#I promised a happier one and a happier one you shall have! oh sharpe oh teresa....

[chiropteracupola]

[1147] burning cities melt hearts

[red-meat-my-beloved]

are we still into demon!dean and non-con blood drinking?

(this was going to be a longer fic but i seem to be physically incapable of writing longer things so i skipped right to the good bit)

warnings: wincest, non-con elements, writer being bitter about the wasted potential of Sam's powers

Also on AO3

Sam should’ve known it wouldn’t be this easy.

In the moment he was so overjoyed that whatever Crowley had done, worked, and Dean survived his ordeal without any lasting damage, that he forgot to be skeptical. Of course he wasn’t meant to have an easy way out.

None of his self-flagellation would do Erica -if he remembered her name correctly- who Dean is now currently holding hostage, any good.

“Dean,” he starts, arms held out towards him in a hopefully calming manner, “I know you’re still in there. Listen to me, you don’t want to do this-”

His plea is cut short by Dean’s laughter, sharp and insincere. His body shakes as he laughs, the knife in his hand moving along against Erica’s neck. She rolls her eyes up, pleading to a god Sam knows won’t hear her.

“Of course I don’t want to do this, Sammy. I just know that you won’t give me what I want if I just ask nicely.” He grins, black eyes just slits as the corners crinkle into crow’s feet, something Sam was leagues happier seeing just mere hours ago.

Sam braves a look at Erica, who’s biting her lip in an attempt to stay quiet. She looks back, pleading silently to Sam.

“Whatever you want from me, she has nothing to do with this. Please let her go.” He tries. His priority is to get Erica out of harm’s way, even if it means throwing himself into it instead. The worst Dean can do to him is kill him and they’re Winchesters; that doesn’t tend to stick.

“Oh, but that’s exactly why I need her.” Sam flinches along with Erica as Dean drags a line across her cheekbone.

“Remember that bitch, Ruby?” The word cuts through the rest of Dean’s taunting. Hard and angry in comparison.

Dread coils cold in the pit of Sam’s stomach.

 “Don’t know if I didn’t get it, or if I got it a little too well, back then.” He continues, putting Erica in a headlock, who yelps in fear as she’s moved.

“I guess we shall see.”

The sight of blood dripping from Dean’s lips takes Sam by surprise.

And the smell.

Sam can smell the sulfur from where he’s standing. Pungent and heavy in the air, the same way a cigarette only smells good to smokers. It makes him want to retch and step closer at the same time.

“Such a slut.” Dean scoffs. With the way Dean’s looking at him, Sam isn’t sure if he’s still talking about Ruby.

“I’ll make you a deal: This girl goes free if you do me a tiny little favor. We can seal it with a good old-fashioned crossroads kiss.”

“I don’t deal with demons.” Sam spits, making a point to breathe only through his nose.

“Suit yourself.” Dean only says, and pulls Erica up by the chin, exposing her throat.

‘Wait!”

“There’s that brain of yours.” Dean grins, his teeth red with it, as Sam steps closer.

“What’s the favor?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Sam weighs his options. This is going to end badly for him, one way or another, but getting Erica out of here takes priority. He works on a plan to gain the upper hand. So far only bad and worse ideas come to mind. They will have to do.

“I’ll do it. Whatever it is. Please let her go.”

“Scouts honor.” Dean crosses his heart with the knife. “Now shall we?”

Sam shuffles closer until they’re chest to chest. He studies Dean’s blood crusted lips and leans closer to press a chaste kiss onto them. Even though he tries to avoid it, Sam’s stomach flips in panic at the taste of Dean’s blood bringing back memories he’s kept locked away for years. He pulls away fast, but Dean has other plans.

He hooks both his hands behind Sam’s head, pulling him back into him. Short-lived relief floods trough Sam as he sees he makes good on his promise to let go of Erica, who books it into the dark clutching her injured jaw. That’s gone the instant he feels Dean trying to force his tattered tongue between Sam’s lips.

Sam puts his hands against Dean’s shoulders, but it’s no use against his demon strength. Instead he feels his world flip and his back hit the ground. His head is cushioned by Dean’s hands still holding him.

Almost tenderly.

Bile rises in his throat as the allusions to Ruby slot into place and in mounting panic he understands it wasn’t just the demon blood Dean was mad about.

He looks up at Dean now looming over him and makes the mistake of trying to reason with him.

As soon as he opens his mouth, Dean forces his tongue in, licking along the inside of Sam’s teeth. His first instinct is to bite, but stops immediately when he feels blood pooling in his mouth. Dean grins against his lips.

Sam kicks around fruitlessly, hoping for some kind of leverage as blood continues to trickle down his throat. As he starts choking, convulsing against Dean, still hoping for some kind of miracle, he feels a hand snake across his abdomen, thumbing the waistband of his jeans. Sam’s stomach drops in terror, realizing how far exactly Dean is willing to take his Ruby role-play. It’s also the moment he realizes his miracle won’t be happening. He takes a deep breath through his nose to ground himself and surrenders. Swallowing the blood itching at the back of his throat first, then sucks whatever’s left from Dean’s tongue.

Dean makes an appreciative sound against his lips which Sam tries to ignore. Instead, he laps at the inside of Dean’s mouth, pretending it’s anyone else. He catches the cuts in Dean’s tongue with his teeth, forcing them open again and again the moment they start to heal.

Sam feels himself slip away as the roaring call of ‘more’ becomes too loud to ignore. He indulges, shoving Dean onto his back, and licks his way deeper into his mouth, his veins thrumming as old potential stirs awake.

They roll through the alley, Dean matching Sam’s energy, until an unexpected wave of pleasure washes over Sam. Horror cuts through his demon-blood induced haze when he realizes he’d ground his hips into Dean’s.

Luckily, this one moment of clarity is enough.

Dean’s head cracks against the wall as he’s thrown against it. It leaves him dazed for a moment, eyes trying to focus on Sam still on the floor, chest heaving in exertion.

The air crackles around them, as black smoke starts pouring out of Dean’s mouth.

“Sammy, trust me, you don’t want to do this.” Dean strains, choking on smoke, “I’m not possessed. It’s me. If you exorcise me, you’ll lose me forever.”

Sam knows he could be bluffing. In fact, he’s almost certain he is.

But that ‘almost’ doesn’t sit right with him. Because what if he’s not? Is he willing to take the risk of losing his brother forever?

Dean slumps along the wall as Sam’s hold on him lessens.

When he recovers, Dean slowly makes his way back over to Sam and places a hand on his head, grinning when Sam doesn’t react. He bends down, bloody lips brushing past Sam’s ear.

“Good boy.”

[lonely-lost-soul]

Immortality and Nymphs Pt. II

(Philza x reader)

Kisses. God Phil missed your kisses against his skin most of all, you were always so warm and gentle. He couldn’t wait for you to be a constant in his life once again, he walked all three of you back to his home. Wilbur was eyeing you the entire time almost like he was trying to find the differences between himself and you, thinking, The boy looked much more like himself than he did you, but there were tiny similarities here and there. You didn’t seem to mind though when he asked you questions you answered them truthfully. Once they arrived back at his house Wilbur stood up a little straighter,

“As much as I’d like to stay and talk more, Fundy and I need to get going.” He trailed off a little looking at you, “I still have thousands of questions but I have a revolution to plan.” Wilbur continued as you raised a questioning eyebrow, Phil’s wings ruffled a little as he cleared his throat.

“You should come back next week with the others.” Phil gave a slight nod of his head, “I’ll send a crow to Techno.” Fundy was the one to whip his head and nod eagerly, Wilbur adjusted his glasses but eventually nodded.

“That should work.” Wilbur turned to face you taking a shaky breath, “I’ll see you then?” A tender smile spread across your lips as you reached out to cup Wilbur’s cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere again baby boy,” You whispered as he flushed hesitantly leaning into your touch “I promise.” He pulled away, clearing his throat taking Fundy’s hand as he waved.

“Bye, grandpa! Bye, grandma!” The fox hybrid called and Phil watched as you flushed deeply. Phil wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, his wings spreading around your body like a cocoon. You giggled softly as he nuzzled his face into your neck, his beard prickled your skin, you missed the feeling.

“Fundy seems sweet,” You mused as the man behind you kissed the skin of your neck. Phil only hummed in agreement which caused you to laugh, “you’re so not paying attention to what I’m saying are you?”

“What?” You burst into laughter at his genuine confusion, “Come on now. I missed you, can you blame me? You’re distracting.” Phil let out a little huff as you pulled away to face him,

“Then show me how much you missed me my crow,” You purred running your fingers through his feathers, you felt his entire body shiver as his breathing hitched. His fingers dug into your hips,

“Careful. They’re sensitive and wouldn't want a pretty thing like you to get hurt.” Phil teased pressing his forehead against yours,

“Oh, I remember.” You winked teasingly as Phil leaned in to swallow your words with a blistering kiss. He felt you melt against his body as his wings fluffed up, both of you poured all your love and admiration for each other into one another. It was then Phil knew nothing changed between the two of you even after all these years apart, there was still the same amount of love and longing you always shared. Phil lifted you into the air and you hooked your legs around his waist, he felt young again, back in the forest by his old home. He felt you giggle against his lips and pull away to rest your forehead on his own, he chased your lips almost desperately. Your hand came up to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes to lean into his palm, “Take me inside first.” You murmured and his eyes lit up mischievously.

“If I remember correctly you never had a problem with making out in the woods before.” He watched your face turn beat red as he smirked proudly, he adored getting you flustered which way to Sunday.

“Yeah well, I’ve lived in the woods all my life. I think I’m ready to stay with my adoring lover in his house, is that really such a bad thing?”

“No. I’d never be opposed to something like that, not when I’ve missed you this much. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, living with you and raising Wilbur, being a family.” He watched you visibly wince and guilt ebbed at his heart, “Hey, hey you had to do what you needed to. I’d rather have you alive and here now than dead or worse.” Phil reassured and you seemed to relax a little bit in his arms,

“I wish I could’ve been here to raise Wilbur with you...I wish I could’ve seen him grow up.” Your voice wavered a little as Phil pulled you close, he hesitated slightly trying to find the right words to say.

“I wish you were there too. But you’re here now, you’re safe and that’s what matters. Plus…” His cheeks flushed a soft pink, “we could always try again.”

“Jesus Christ Phil,” you giggled covering your mouth with your hands and he looked embarrassed. “I just got home Crow, let's give it some time. But...I’m not opposed in the future.” Phil’s face lit up again and he nodded rapidly, he could agree with that, maybe once you built a better relationship with Wilbur and his other boys that’s when the both of you could try again.

Oh god, the other boys. When he invited them all here next week, he hoped they’d make a good impression if not Dadza was going to craft a belt.

“How long has it been since you’ve had an actual meal?”

“God decades!”

He chuckled deeply, kissing your cheek, and led you into his house to have a nice warm meal. Having you around definitely took some getting used to, his days suddenly shifted around as he accommodated for another person but he didn’t mind. Phil woke up happier than he'd felt in a long time, you were curled up against his chest, the top of your head was right under his chin. He ran a hand through your (h/c) hair, letting it run through his fingers, even though it’s been about a week he still felt like you weren’t really beside him.

Wait a week.

His eyes snapped open and he shot up like a rocket, feathers flying everywhere as you groaned, “Crow? Everything alright?” You asked adorably rubbing your eyes, his stress melted away momentarily as he watched you wake up. A few flowers bloomed in your hair as you came to your senses.

“Everythings fine! Just remembered it’s Sunday and the others don’t usually follow set times.” He pulled you from the bed giving you a quick good morning peck on the lips. “Get dressed, something nice I wanna show you off,” He kissed you again longer this time you giggled.

“To who? Our son and your friends?” He gave a happy little nod, as you rolled your eyes, he felt your fingers fix the hair on his face, Phil closed his eyes and leaned against your touch. “But I’ll do as you wish my Crow,” You stood up from the bed and stretched your arms above your head. Phil had managed to get some clothes for you from a nearby village, he still remembered your style, but tried to make it more modern so you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. You slid on the new clothes, they hung off you loosely. They clearly needed some tailoring, and you slid on the boots he got you the day before, as much as you like walking around barefoot it was pretty impractical.

“Shall we?” Phil held his arm out to you, you wrapped your arm around his own as he led you outside. You both stood on a hillside covered in soft green grass and a big willow tree. Phil looked down at you, his big wings gently covering your back from any danger, he was sure not feeling the grass between your feet was a foreign feeling to you but you didn’t seem to mind. The smile on your face said it all, you were peaceful and relaxed, letting the breeze flow through your hair. “You’re beautiful,” your eyes snapped up to him your cheeks turning light pink,

“Oh stop it old man.” He made an indignant sound as you laughed, your hands reached up and dragged him down to your level, kissing him tenderly. Phil felt his eyes flutter closed and his wings drop, he was snapped back to reality by loud whistling. You pulled back and he pushed you behind him, wings puffing up defensively, standing on the side of the hill were Wilbur, Tommy, Technoblade, and Fundy. Tommy was the one whistling eyes sparkling mischievously, Wilbur whacked him on the back of the head to get him to shut up.

“Dad! Wil’s being mean to me!”

“Don’t be mean to Tommy Wil,” Phil pressed his fingers to his nose with a sigh “Wilbur don’t antagonize your brother.” Fundy was cackling at their mischief, your eyebrows shot up on your forehead and Phil cleared his throat, face pink. Technoblade just stared seemingly eyeing you suspiciously, “(Y/n) these are my other sons. Boys this is (Y/n) Wilbur’s birth mother.” It was Technoblade’s turn for his eyebrows to raise and Tommy’s jaw dropped to the floor,

“No shit.” Tommy gawked, “You don’t look like her at all Wilbur! You’re so ugly, must’ve gotten that from Phil. Sad.” You burst into hysterical laughter watching Phil glare over at Tommy. Wilbur was seething at his sibling but ignored him in favor of giving you a light hug,

“Good to see you, mom.” He whispered,

“Good to see you too.” Phil heard you respond and hug him back, Wilbur whispered something to you and you made a little surprised face before nodding. Phil assumed he told you that the other boys were not in fact his biological children, but those he had adopted. Fundy soon joined in the hug snuggling into your stomach, you ruffled the young fox’s head and he chirped happily. Tommy walked over to introduce himself to you next, he proclaimed to be not only Phil’s favorite son but Wilbur’s favorite brother too. Which lead him to then boldly declare he’d be your favorite as well and Wilbur sent him a scathing look, ah yes, Phil knew that look rather well. Wilbur inherited that look from you, nose all scrunched up and eyes sharp. You shook the young boy's hand and happily told him you couldn't wait to see him fall into the number one spot. Wilbur shot you an offended look and Phil covered up a laugh with his hand, the offending look was sent to his father next,

“Dad.”

“What?” Phil laughed holding up his hands, “If he wants to win your mother’s attention I’m not gonna stop him. Every man for themselves.”

“Phil,” You nudged him with his elbow “be nice.” Tommy began to boast about how awesome he was in comparison to his brother, you sent a wink to Wilbur’s, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

You were his number one, anyone with a brain could see that.

Phil noticed Technoblade had his eye on you the entire time, it took him much longer than the others to gain trust. He decided to walk away from you to stand by the hybrid's side, “Hey mate.” Technoblade only grunted in response, arms crossed over his broad chest protectively, “What’s crawled up your butt eh?”

“You didn’t tell me ‘bout her.” He motioned in your direction with his chin, “you tell me everything. Why not her?” Technoblade was trying to remain stoic but after all these years he could tell he was hurt. Phil sighed softly scratching the stubble on his chin as he watched Fundy run around you trying to fight for your attention.

“It was hard for me to talk about, she didn’t leave on her own free will. Her life was in danger and I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. It was a shock when she came back last week, a good shock but a shock nonetheless. (Y/n) was my everything, is my everything. I kept it from everyone because I hoped it would keep her alive and safe from those who wished to harm her.” Phil looked over at Techno, for once Phil’s eyes showed his true age, “I’m sorry mate you know I would’ve told you if I could. Doesn’t take much for me to start gushing ‘bout her. I mean look at her.” Phil glanced back over at you, Fundy was on your shoulders, his hat on your head, meanwhile, Wilbur was wrestling with Tommy on the ground. You looked over at him desperate for his help and Phil only smiled over at you and shook his head. Your eyes screamed distressed as you tried to get the boys to stop fighting, Phil felt Techno’s eyes on him and he looked back at his son and friend.

“I understand I suppose,” Technoblade sighed rubbing the back of his neck, “You wanted to protect her. I can’t be mad at you for that, but no more secrets alright? Promise me?”

“Promise. Now go say hi to her before she gets upset and thinks you don’t like her,” Phil nudged him forward and his eyes widened a little,

“Heh? Phil hold on-”

“(Y/n)! This is Techno.” Phil clapped the man on the back, you looked up at him with a kind smile.

“Pleasure to meet you Technoblade, I like your cape.” Phil watched the man flush in embarrassment at the compliment,

“Eh...thanks. Like your flowers.” He motioned to the flowers blooming in your hair, you beamed brightly at him, always happy to talk about your flowers.

“Thank you, sweetie!” His ears turned red and he waved you off anxiously, he moved to peel Tommy away from Wilbur, wanting to get out of this conversation. Fundy hopped off your shoulders to tackle his father and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, “wow. They’re…”

“A lot?”

“Yes.” You laughed fondly, “but…”

“I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” Phil nodded kissing you on the apple of your cheek,

“Good. You better not. They’re all my sons now. I hope you know that” You leaned against his chest, he laughed and you felt his chest rise and fall.

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Letters. That’s how most of you communicated in the years to follow, Wilbur would send letters and you would beam in delight. It melted Phil’s heart, he knew his son was busy with the revolution and the now Presidency but he wished he’d visit his mother. You would write him back almost immediately after receiving a letter, you’d seal the letter with a kiss before sending it off with one of Phil’s crows. Afterward, Phil would take you in his arms and pepper you in tender kisses, you would giggle and snuggle into his arms. He told you he loved you, and you cooed and told you loved him back, then you both would share a kiss. Phil loved those days the most, seeing you truly happy made his heart swell. There were days where Phil taught you how to fight, days where you would garden, and days where he let you groom his feathers. He loved that, grooming was another one of the things he missed the most, you got out all the tangled feathers just perfectly. He would lean back against your hands head falling on your shoulder as he panted, his pupils were blown wide as you hummed fondly.

So, maybe Phil enjoyed it a little more than he remembered.

It was a cold autumn day when the letters stopped coming, you were heartbroken, always anxiously petting and feeding his crows. They could sense your disappointment in waves, it was almost choking Phil himself, his heart ached to see you so sad. He pets your hair gently as you both sat on the hill with the willow tree, he noticed the bags under your eyes were dark, Phil’s frown only deepened.

“My love please smile for me, I’ve missed it so much these past few weeks.”

“Somethings wrong,” Your voice was soft looking up at Phil “He wouldn’t just stop writing to us. He always writes to us.” He hated the way your voice quivered, “what if he changed his mind about me?” Phil shushed you softly with a kiss,

“First of all, there’s no way he changed his mind about you. The way the both of you bonded these past few years, Wilbur wouldn’t throw that all away for no good reason.” He tried to reassure you, “Although, I will admit this is strange. Wilbur isn’t one to not write to me, it’s something he’s always done ever since he was old enough to spell.”

“Crow…” You whispered, “can we visit him? Just to put my mind at ease...please.” Phil’s heart melted as soon as he saw your puppy dog eyes, he nodded and you smiled.

Good. He was going to keep that there as long as he was physically able.

The next day, Phil scooped you up in his arms and you headed towards the direction of his son's new nation.

It was called L’Manburg if Phil remembered correctly.

What the both of you didn’t expect to see was a war zone, “Phil…” You murmured eyes wide in fear, he held you to his chest, your brow furrowed in worry. He swore he could see Tommy and Techno looking up at them from below, it didn’t ease the anxiety prickling at his skin, the sky suddenly went black with crows.

A bad omen, something bad was going to happen, and they knew it.

“Phil they’re distressed. Somethings wrong.”

“I know hon,” Phil looked around worriedly, he spotted a glance of Wilbur walking into some sort of room. He landed just outside the entrance, he put you on your feet, “Stay behind me.” He instructed you, you nodded your head clutching onto his bicep. The both of you stepped into the dimly lit room, there were scrawlings etched into the wall, all scratched in by Wilbur. Your brow furrowed in concern, fingers dancing across the lettering, “what’re you doing?” Phil spoke, his tone flat and serious, looking dead at your son, wings spreading out behind him.

“Wilby?” You asked softly as he slowly turned around, his big brown eyes were wet and wide.

“Mom…” He whispered, “I didn’t want…” Wilbur looked away from you and grit his teeth, “Welcome to L’manburg. Sorry, you have to see it like this, war-torn and broken. I wanted you to see it in its prime, a shame you didn’t visit sooner.”

“Wilbur, don’t do this,” Phil said watching his son look longingly at the button in the middle of the wall, almost with longing. “This is your country, it can be fixed. Things can be rebuilt, it’s where you raised your son,” Phil continued his entire body tense and nervous he was too aware of the sword on Wilbur’s hip. Phil reached out his hand as you walked towards Wilbur,

“Baby boy…” You whispered tenderly, vines slowly growing out of the cracks in the floor. “Don’t do this I only just got you back, please think about what you’re doing.” Wilbur’s brow furrowed watching you smile softly holding out your arm, “Everything will be alright I promise you. We can help you.” He let out a wet laugh running a hand through his brown curls, his pointed ears visible.

“It’s not the same nation anymore. There was a special place where people could go but it’s not there. It’s no longer the nation it once was Mom.”

“It is there. You've just- You've just won it back, Wil!” Phil spoke up in opposition to his son.

“MOM, Dad, I’m ALWAYS SO CLOSE to pressing this button, Phil! I've BEEN HERE like seven or eight times, I've been here seven or eight times...Phil, I've been here so many times…” All of you jumped a little at the sound of crackling fireworks outside, “They're fighting. They're fighting!” Phil and you glanced at one another, there was a beat of silence.

“And you want to just blow it all up, You fought so hard to get this land back... So hard.” You argued reaching out to cup his cheeks, he melted into your palms, snuggling into them like they were his last lifeline.

“I don't even know if it works anymore, Mom, I don't even know if the button works, I could, I could... press it.”

“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil laughed, “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.”

“Phil... There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor. Once part of L'Manburg. A traitor- I don't know if you've heard of Eret? He had a saying...It was never meant to be!” He tossed his hand back and slammed it against the button, you let out a devastating shriek pulling Wilbur into your arms to try and protect him from the blast. Phil felt pure adrenaline enter his bloodstream as he flew towards you and his son. His wings wrapped around the both of you and you whimpered, some of his feathers caught fire and he squeezed his loved one’s harder. Wilbur meanwhile let out a roaring cry “MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO-ONE CAN, PHIL!”

“Oh, my god…” Phil spoke, his voice quivering with horror, Wilbur looked down at you, hurt and pride swam in his eyes,

“Are you proud of me mama?” He whispered softly as your thumb caressed his cheeks, Phil glanced down at you ignoring the pain in his wing, your eyes were wet but you were still smiling.

It didn’t reach your eyes.

“I’ll always be proud of you Wilbur. I’m your mother, and I love you, I’ll always love you.” He let out a little cry, you were so genuine with him, your love was smothering him. Wilbur looked up at his father and grabbed his wrist,

“Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me!” Wilbur broke away from his hold and tossed his sword Phil’s way. Phil caught it in his arms the lines in his forehead creasing with worry, “Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil! Kill me! Phil, kill me!”

“I- You're my SON!”

“Wilbur NO! PHIL DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” You cried as Wilbur shoved you away from him, your growing distress caused vines to spill into the room, filling it with greenery, nature wanted to protect you.

“No matter what you- dude, no matter what you've done, I can't-” Phil’s voice cracked, his knuckles turning white against the hilt of the blade.

Wilbur slammed his fist against the wall, “Phil, it's- LOOK! LOOK! HOW MUCH WORK WENT INTO THIS, and it's GONE!” He grabbed Phil’s hand and shoved the point of the sword into his chest, “Do it. Do it.”

“PHIL!” You sobbed grabbing onto his other arm, eyes red and puffy, fat tears were running down your pink cheeks.

The man squeezed his eyes tightly, his throat closing up, he couldn’t look at you, he could feel the look of horror that was slowly spreading across your face.

“Phil. I’m begging you we can get him help, I can’t lose him. Not again, not when I’ve only just got him back.” You choked out, “he’s my baby. He’s our baby.” You were clinging to Phil desperately, your smile was gone, he failed you and he failed his own son.

“Do it, Dad.” Wilbur interrupted you, you let out a desperate cry and Wilbur shushed you softly, brushing away your tears. “It’s better this way,” Wilbur leaned down and kissed your forehead, “I love you and I forgive you.” He looked back at Phil and his disintegrating right-wing, guilt ate at him, “It’s time.”

Phil let out a deep breath, jaw tense and he felt you bury your head in his uninjured wing. He ran his sword through his son’s chest, Wilbur fell forward against the blade, he choked on the blood in his mouth, it flowed out of the corners and stained the front of his shirt. Phil felt you move to look but he covered your face with his wing once more, “Don’t look darlin’” He whispered as your sobs only increased, Wilbur slowly died in his arms with a smile on his face that would forever haunt Phil’s nightmares. He stroked Wilbur’s hair as he slowly faded out of existence, three lives completely snuffed out, Phil was part of giving him life and was the one to take his final one. Once Wilbur was gone you crumpled to the floor loud sobs echoing in the chamber, he fell beside you and wrapped you in his arms, you clutched his beanie to your chest.

“It’s alright. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay! Philza Minecraft how the FUCK is this gonna be okay!” You snarled in his arms but he only held you tighter, “Our son...our baby is dead.” You choked holding your hand to your mouth, the vines that had grown started dying feeding off your agony. “He’s gone…” You whimpered letting Phil caress your hair and plant kisses on the top of your head.

“We’ll get through this. I promise you.” He swore up to you cupping your cheeks within his hands, you sniffled a little and gave a small nod of your head. You were drained emotionally and physically, Phil’s heart ached in his chest.

“You’re hurt…”

“I’ll be alright,” He tried to stretch out his wings he flinched as pain shot up the right side of his body. Phil’s wing was charred to bits, you both knew the unspoken truth that he’d never fly like he once did, Wilbur wasn’t the only thing Phil would mourn.

“We need to set up a grave for him. Under the willow tree, I’ll plant yellow flowers. That way he can always be close to us so long as we live there,” You looked up at him eyebrows pinched so tight “Please.”

“You don’t need permission Darlin’.” He whispered to you resting his forehead against your own, “If that’s where you want it that’s where it’ll be.”

“Good.”

Phil slowly helped you to your feet, you weren’t injured, a few cuts and scrapes he took the majority of the damage from the explosion just like he had planned. He hissed as he tried to put pressure on his left ankle, “Fuck me. I’m too young to need a cane.”

“Eh,” You smiled weakly “Wouldn’t say that.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You giggled softly, your laughter significantly improved his mood, even if it was a minuscule adjustment. “We all can’t be as spry as you,”

“What can I say some of us have it and some of us don’t.” You smirked slightly hearing another loud explosion go off in the distance, “the Withers. Technoblade spawned them didn’t he?” Your eyebrows furrowed in thought and Phil gave a little nod,

“Most likely.”

“Our boys, they can’t do anything without explosions can they?” You shakily whispered and Phil couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh,

“Guess so,” He shrugged limply as you slipped Wilbur’s beanie on your head,

“What now?” You looked up at him through wet eyelashes, Phil caressed the back of your head,

“We go home, bury what’s left of Wilbur, and take a look at my wings to assess the damage.” Phil watched you nod numbly against him, “it’ll be a long walk back.” He groaned rubbing his eyes and you rubbed his back soothingly.

“Let me handle that,” You reassured and he raised an eyebrow the both of you moved to leave the structure neither one of you wanted to put up with anyone, you both had lost a son and wanted time to mourn. Plus, it seemed Tommy and Technoblade were busy fighting. Phil watched you with careful eyes allowing himself to lean against one of the trees that survived the explosion. You placed your fingers in your mouth and gently whistled, not only did a crow from a tree flutter by but a wandering horse as well, you really were an animal whisperer. The crow ruffled its feathers and cawed loudly at Phil, he shot the crow a look and flipped it off, meanwhile, you worked your magic taming the horse in a matter of moments. “Come here Crow,” You held as your hand and he fell into it, you helped him onto the horse and he shot you a look,

“I’m not riding on this horse with you walking on foot. Switch with me.” Phil tried to argue but you shushed him,

“You took an explosion to the back. Take a breather, relax, nature helps me heal anyway.” You hummed fondly as he slumped against the horse reluctantly, it took about an hour to get back home, Phil had lost all feeling in his wing and wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and go to sleep. As the looming willow tree came into view Phil heard you sniffle and clutch his son’s beanie on your head,

“(Y/n)?”

“I-I’m alright.” You cleared your throat shaking your head, “Let’s get you looked at before anything else, okay?” Phil too exhausted to argue only nodded limply, you helped him inside and set him down on a chair. “Spread your wings for me,” You commanded, helping him stretch out his wings. He cursed, only feeling pure agony shoot through his right side,

“Ow! Fuck me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” You whispered out tenderly rubbing the base of his left-wing. The mixture of pain and pleasure was foreign but not completely unwelcome. “Oh, Phil…” You trailed off hesitant to touch the damage that was inflicted, “I don’t...I don’t think-” You chewed the bottom of your lip, but Phil got the message, he wasn’t going to be able to fly as he once did, maybe ever again. His flight feathers were singed to hell, completely burned away, not to mention the patchiness of his other feathers. His shoulders slumped forward as he ran a hand down his face, he was exhausted, he felt the coolness on his wing as you spread some antibiotic on the injury. “I’m sorry,” You kissed the back of his neck and he shivered at the feeling. “We’ll bury what we have tomorrow, you need rest.”

“I’ll be fine-”

“Phil, I will force you into bed. Don’t fucking test me right now, I will force you if I have to.” You hissed out glaring daggers at him, he should be threatened but he just felt oddly aroused.

He decided to attribute that to how fucked up he felt today.

Phil allowed you to tuck him into bed as gentle as you were capable of doing, “I’m going to send out some letters. I’ll join you in a little bit.” He felt you remove his hat and run your fingers through his blonde hair, he leaned into your touch like a kitten. As soon as you shut the door, Phil was out like a light.

Phil found out the next day that you had sent a letter out to both Tommy and Technoblade, you wouldn’t specify what you sent but you seemed a bit more relaxed than you had the other day. You both didn’t get a chance to bury what was left of Wilbur until a week later, Phil’s healing process was slower than he could’ve imagined. Phil reluctantly had to use a cane to get around easily, his crows laughed at him but you were also so kind and careful.

You were an angel.

The two of you buried him under the willow tree on the hill where you’d met the other members of your odd family for the first time. Technoblade had shown up at your doorstep holding out a large box inside of it was a stone tombstone inscribed on the tombstone was Wilbur’s name and date of birth and death. It had surprised Phil that the hybrid even agreed to make this for you, but at the same time, he was Phil’s adoptive son and closest friend, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Phil had placed Wilbur’s coat and beanie into a box and placed it under the ground. You had kept your promise and had grown little yellow flowers around the site of the burial, and the two parents mourned the loss of their biological son. Technoblade stood close by a hand resting on Phil’s shoulder in hopes to soothe him at least a little bit, Phil would never admit it but he appreciated the gesture.

Little did the three of them know, a small smile spread across a young ghost’s face. He picked at the sleeves of his yellow sweater, maybe he could give both of them some blue sometime to help them heal.

He had a feeling they’d like that idea.

~~~

I usually don't tag people in my stories but I figured a lot of people wanted a part two:

@xx-smiley-xx @dreamsofficialwife @dirtydiavolo @thatguythatsshy

@shinyshimaagain @little-odd-dude @theultimatewifu32 @hee-hee-haw @thegeekishere

[writeroutoftime]

baby makes three

(gif created by me)

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader (this is for the 3 anons who wanted to see a similar situation with colin being a father!)

summary: snapshots of colin throughout your pregnancy with your first child 

warnings: pregnancy 

words: 1.7k 

a/n: this is the story that kept disappearing in my drafts, but it has reappeared, which is why I’m posting 2 stories back to back! 😂anyway, this is such a sweet thought, and I adored writing it! hopefully it doesn’t seem too choppy, I just thought it would be interesting to write little snippets of colin and yourself preparing to be parents! (as well as some fluff once the baby is born!) anyway, please let me know what you think, and have a lovely day! 

oOoOo

the announcement 

“You’re what?” 

“Pregnant, Colin.” you repeated, unable to keep the smile off your face. “And you’re going to be the most wonderful father!” 

Immediately, Colin’s face morphed from one of disbelief to pure joy in a matter of seconds before he shot forward and wrapped you up in his arms. His laughter and lightheartedness was infectious, and your heart swelled at his reactions. A gasp of surprise left your lips as he spun your around before setting you back down and placing a chaste kiss against your lips. 

Growing up in the Bridgerton family, Colin always knew that he wanted a large family of his own one day. The day he had met you, he knew you were the one for him, and from that day he had imagined starting a family with you. Now, those dreams were coming to fruition, and neither of you could be happier. 

Once recovered, Colin quickly got down on his knees and lovingly placed a kiss to your covered stomach, staring up at you with intense love and devotion in his eyes. You reached down and carded your hand through his thick, chestnut locks, thinking how lucky you were to have someone like Colin in your life. 

“Hello, little bean.” he whispered sweetly. “I cannot wait to meet you, so you just stay safe and keep growing in there until it’s time.” Colin instructed, pulling a laugh from your lips. 

“Little bean?” you questioned the nickname for your unborn child. 

Colin shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Well, we don’t know if we are to have a son or a daughter, so I shall call our precious gift ‘little bean’ for the time being.” he explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  

“Well this little bean and myself love you dearly, Colin.” you praised, smiling down at your husband. 

“And I, the both of you.” he vowed, offering your stomach one more kiss before standing up, unable to keep his lips away from yours. 

5 months 

Colin beamed as he watched you walk into the drawing room and sat down, admiring the glow that you seemed to radiate. The months were passing quickly, and now that there was a visible bump it made your situation feel all the more real. Of course, you had received so much love and support from not only Colin, but the rest of his family, especially the women who had already experienced a pregnancy of their own. It warmed your heart to know you were not alone in this endeavor. 

“Oh!” you suddenly gasped, quickly setting your teacup down and rubbing your stomach where you felt a slight discomfort. 

“Is everything alright, love?” Colin asked as he rushed to your side. “Do we need to call for the doctor? My mother?” he listed, worry glazing over his eyes as he hovered, waiting for your instruction. 

The movement repeated and with your hand rested over your bump, you smiled, realizing what had just happened. “No, no, everything is perfect.” you whispered, lost in wonder and awe. 

“Then what is it?” Colin inquired, still concerned and needing answers. 

Wordlessly, you grabbed his hand and rested it on your stomach, moving it around for a few seconds before pressing down. Colin was about to protest further until he felt the same sensation you did just moments before and his eyes widened at the spot his hand rested on. His eyes then flicked up to meet yours, and neither of you could contain the joy you felt. 

“That’s our little bean in there.” he whispered, voice shaky and eyes misty. 

“That it is.” you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the moment, though you let out a small giggle when you felt the baby kick again. 

“She’s going to be just as beautiful as her mother.” he said. 

“She?” you questioned. “What happened to little bean?” 

“Oh, she’s still our little bean, but I just have a hunch that we’re going to have a daughter to love and spoil.” Colin said, pulling you into your side and soothingly rubbing his hand up and down your bump, and that is where the two of you stayed for the rest of the afternoon. 

8 months 

The further along in your pregnancy you were, the more you found it difficult to sleep, tossing and turning as your child constantly kicked against your stomach. Luckily, Colin was always there to help you and even stayed awake with you on those restless nights. However, one night when sleep was achieved quite easily, you found yourself awakening to Colin’s soft voice. It only took a moment to realize he was talking to your baby, so you kept your eyes closed and your breath even, not wanting to interrupt the moment. 

“I can’t wait until I can hold you in my arms, little bean.” he whispered to your belly, hand supporting his one hand while the other ever so gently rested on your stomach. “You’re mother and I cannot wait for you to be in our lives, and you’re going to be so spoiled between your mother and I and all your aunts and uncles.” 

It was difficult to hold in a laugh as you imagined Colin’s words to be true. The two of you were eager to start your family, and the rest of the Bridgerton clan always enthusiastically welcomed another niece or nephew to dote upon. 

“Speaking of your mother,” Colin continued. “we are so lucky that she is in our lives. I know that this has been difficult for her, but you have been blessed with the best mother. We’ll both have to love and appreciate her as much as possible.” 

By that point, it was exceedingly difficult to keep your act up as you felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. How were you so lucky to have such a caring and attentive man like Colin in your life? It seemed as though your baby had been listening and agreed with Colin because right after he spoke, another sharp kick could be felt. 

“Are you giving your mother trouble, little bean?” he asked, brows furrowed as he awaited another kick. “What did I just say about being kind to your mother? It is not nice to kick her that hard, especially at night.” he reprimanded in the gentlest voice. “Even if she is pretending to be asleep.” he added with a smug grin, looking up to meet your eyes. 

Sheepishly, you looked down at your husband. “How did you know I was awake?” you asked, curious as to what it was that gave you away. 

“I could feel your small laugh earlier on.” he admitted, and shifted his body so that he was face to face with you instead of your stomach. “But I truly meant every word I spoke.” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. 

When you pulled away, you couldn’t stop the tears that ran down your cheeks, moved by the love Colin always gave you. “I’m so lucky to be doing this with you by my side. You are going to be the best father, Colin.” you told him, your voice watery but sincere. 

Colin gently brushed away your tears and kissed the spots where tear tracks had been left behind as he entwined your hand with his. “I think I am the lucky one, love.” he countered, and curled into your side for the rest of the night. 

birth 

The moment you went into labor, Colin was there to hold your hand while sending out for the midwife and doctor as well as his mother. When the doctor tried to shove him out of the room, Colin held his ground and demanded that he be allowed to stay by his wife’s side; he was not about to leave you to fend for yourself at this hour. Hesitantly, the doctor granted his request, and you sighed a breath of relief, as Violet smiled to herself at the sight, her heart warmed at how dedicated the two of you were to each other. 

Hours later, filled with blood, sweat, and tears, you were propped up in your bed, gently holding your daughter in your arms. It was a tender scene between yourself, Colin, and y/d/n. Colin held you in arms and kissed the top of your head while gently stroking his daughter’s cheek with his thumb. It felt surreal that you child was now here and that your family had grown to three. 

“She’s beautiful.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your eyes from your daughter. 

“Just like her mother.” Colin responded, squeezing you a bit tighter. “Thank you, y/n.” he suddenly said, causing you to look up at him. 

“Whatever for?” you asked. 

Colin took a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke. “For starting our family, for being so strong to support our daughter until she was ready to meet us, for making me so incredibly happy every single day.” he listed over, each one more passionate than the last. 

It was already an emotional day, and you didn’t think your heart could feel any more full, but as usual, Colin found a way to prove you wrong. “I love you so much.” you told him, and he leant his head down to rest against yours as the two of you spent the next couple hours admiring the newest addition to your family. 

Later that night, Colin found that he could not sleep, the excitement and adrenaline of the previous day’s events still coursing through his veins. Carefully, he untangled himself from your embrace and padded over to the bassinet in the corner of your room where your daughter slept. He knelt down next to her and simply watched as she slept her first night. A few minutes later, your daughter opened her eyes and met Colin’s gaze. 

“Hello there, little bean.” he whispered, not wanting to frighten her or wake you up. “I just want to let you know that I love you so, so much, and I’m always going to be here to protect you.” Colin promised as he offered a finger for your daughter to grab a hold of with her tiny hand, ready for everything the future would bring. 

oOoOo

tagging: @dreaming-about-fanfictions​, @elennox03

[myhaikyuuthings]

Getting Married

a angst continuation from my ‘tonight.. breakup hcs’ post

also fluff for Oikawa, it’ll be broken up between the two

oikawa x reader fluff & past ushijima x reader angst

oikawa’s song for this: here im just gonna say if you listen to any of the songs, i recommend this one. it is my favorite love song and made specifically for a wedding. i’ve cried many times to the thought of someone loving me the way the singer loves his wife

ushijima’s song for this: here

reader’s song: here

Your heart thumps against your ribcage as you hold your bouquet tightly in your hands.  You’re nervous, but in the best way. He is everything you have ever wanted, and you feel so lucky to have him. In just minutes, he will be yours forever. You make your way to the aisle, a small smile on your face. The music starts up and you take your first step from behind the curtain.

Oikawa turns to you, his face lighting up as he watches you walk towards him. He wipes at the tear rolling down his cheek, his smile brighter than the ceremony lights. You smile, holding back tears of your own. As you reach the altar, he takes your hand in his. 

“You look beautiful,” he sighs happily, not bothering to stop the tears from falling. “I’m so lucky to be marrying you.”

The officiant clears his throat, breaking up your moment with a small smile. “Shall we begin?” 

You try to listen as the officiant speaks, really you do but he looks too beautiful in front of you. You’re trapped in this blissful haze where Tooru is the only thing you see, feel, hear. The only thing that matters to you at this moment. The way his eyes are filled with so much love you feel undeserving for just a moment. How his hands hold yours tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll run away at the last moment. How absolutely breathtaking he looks in his suit, the happiness you can feel radiating off of him. You can tell from how he’s looking at you, that he feels the same. 

“Y/N?” he calls, snapping you from your trance with worry flashing in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry I was distracted, what?” you stammer, blushing furiously as everyone laughs.

“I said, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the officiant chuckles, a knowing smile on his face. 

“Oh, yes I do, of course I do,” you answer quickly, not missing the sigh of relief that falls from the man before you. 

“And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant turns to Oikawa, barely managing to get the words out before he answers. 

“A million I do’s wouldn’t be enough to express how deeply I do,” he rushes, his hands shaking in yours. 

“Well, I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

You lost yourself in the feeling of his lips, your husbands lips. You had waited for this day for what felt like your entire life, and now that it’s here you couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes. The two of you pulled back, resting your foreheads together. 

“I belong to you,” he whispers, bringing your hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss beside your wedding ring. 

“And I belong to you,” you whisper back, feeling the happiest you ever have. 

The reception is a whirl wind of congratulatory hugs and pictures with everyone. You find your eyes moving to him often, the two of you being separated for conversations here and there. Every time you look to him, his eyes are already on you. All too quickly, the two of you are swept onto the dance floor for your first dance. 

I refuse to grow older unless it's with you

You rest your head on his shoulder, swaying softly to the music. 

I fell in love and made you a promise though I'd never noticed how much it meant to you

He presses a  kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around you. You smile against him, your heart feeling calm for the first time all day. He spins the two of you in a circle, your giggles lighting his entire being on fire. 

Yes they can see us but only at a glance only you know the man that I am beyond the surface i belong with you

His hands rest on your hips as the song comes to an end, guests filtering onto the floor around you. 

“I love you Y/N Oikawa,” his voice soft as he smiles down at you.

“I love you too Tooru Oikawa,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m the luckiest person in the world.”

“Oh i beg to differ, that title belongs to me,” he teases, his eyes lit with mischief. 

“Is our first fight as a married couple going to be who the luckier person is?” you ask, giggling at the look those around you are giving you. 

“If we only ever fight over who is luckiest, then I’ll die a happy man,” he decides, pulling you in for another kiss. 

You truly felt your happiest with him. It was amazing how much you could love someone in just three years. Many thought you two were rushing into things, but when you know you just know, and you knew Tooru was the one for you. From the moment he said your name, you knew and there was no going back from that. 

He hadn’t been invited to your wedding, not that this surprised him. But Tendou had, which wasn’t exactly a surprise either. His best friend had been the one to help put you back together after he destroyed your heart and he was forever grateful for the red head. He knew Tendou would post something with you and Oikawa, so he tried to stay off line. 

He went for a run to distract himself. He didn’t know you were getting married nearby, so when he ran past the venue and caught a glimpse of you through the window he nearly fell. You were in Oikawa’s arms, dancing and laughing together without a care in the world. He stood on the sidewalk, watching you two through the window as his heart shattered. 

It had been almost four years since the two of you broke up, three since you had made it official with the other man. He knew he wasn’t over you, that he probably never would be. But seeing you again after so long hurt more than he was prepared for. You looked happy. 

He took off once more, memories of the two of you playing in his head. The time you had laughed so hard you snorted after he let you attempt to put his hair in pigtails. The time you dragged him out for ice cream in the dead heat of summer, a child like innocence to your actions. It had been the very street you were now getting married on, that thought hitting him like a brick. 

You two had sat on the curb across from that venue, discussing how one day you would marry him there. He had been so sure your dreams would come true, but he ruined it. He was young but he thought the two of you were it, and now you’re getting married to someone else. 

He ran all the way home, his chest hollow. The thought of you in Oikawa’s hold was burned into his memory. The one thing he had been trying to avoid, it was funny in a very ironic way. It was as if the universe was reminding him, you were no longer his and you never would be again.

He opened up his phone, knowing your number had not changed. 

“It’s all my favorite numbers! Why would I ever change it,” he remembered you saying once. Your phone number had the dates of everyone in your family, and you were too sentimental to ever change it. 

Before he could process what he was doing, he was calling your number. It was late now, you had already left the venue. To his surprise, you answered. 

“Y/N Oikawa, may I ask who this is?” your voice was as sweet as he remembered, and his heart dropped at the realization you had deleted his contact. “Hello? Tooru-chan do you recognize this number? They aren’t answering.” 

He could hear the pout in your voice. He closed his eyes, knowing you were probably expecting a congratulations from someone, and instead he had called. He threw all sanity from the window, figuring he had nothing to lose. 

“Uh Y/N it’s Wakatoshi,” he cleared his throat, waiting patiently for your response. 

“Oh Ushijima, how are you?” Oikawa’s voice came through the phone. You probably had him on speaker phone. 

“I’m doing good, I just wanted to wish you two a happy marriage,” he lied, feeling the pieces of his heart being shattered into pieces no one could fix. 

“Thank you, I’m glad you’re doing well. We’re about to board the plane, but truly thank you,” he nearly cried at the sound of your voice. You sounded like you genuinely meant your words. How had you moved on so much that you could be happy for him being well? 

“Y/N may I ask you something, just us for a moment?” he asked, knowing this would be the last time he talked to you. 

“It’s okay, I’ll wait by the boarding gate okay?” he heard your husband, he nearly threw up at the realization, say and then the obvious sound of lips against skin.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice as gentle as the first time you spoke to him.

“Do you ever think of me?” he rushed, wincing at the sharp inhale from your end. “Do you ever dream we were meant to be? If i could have, I would have asked for one last dance. One last chance. If i knew you were getting married across from our old spot, I would have-”

“Ushijima,” you whispered, but he continued.

“I would have came in, and begged for you back. I would have, i messed up losing you.”

“Wakatoshi that’s enough,” your voice caught and he froze. “I am married, happily married. It’s been years. I don’t think of you anymore.”

“You don’t?” 

“No, I don’t, we were not meant for each other,” you sighed. “As much as I tried to convince myself of that when we were together, it’s not true. I’m happier with Tooru than I have ever been, there is no one better for me than him. And that includes you. I’m sorry but please don’t call me again.”

You hung up before he could respond. He stared down at the phone in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he broke down. He had truly lost you forever. 

[loverlele]

Courage

Lesbian!Emily Prentiss x Lesbian!Female Reader

Warnings: bad language, a bit of a steamy makeout session ;)

A/N: Hello you lovely people. I only have a few things to say about this one. First of all, I think this is my favourite one shot I’ve written so far. There is a lack of Emily one shots on here and I plan on changing that! Secondly, there will be time skips within this one shot to help with the story telling that will be indicated by the use of ‘-’ between paragraphs. Also, it’s going to be a long one so buckle up folks! So with that said, enjoy :)

Word count: 5669

Taking a deep breath I raise my hand to the door and knock three times successively.

“Come in” a deep, smooth voice comes from within the office.

Opening the door I smile at the man within, “Agent Hotchner? Hi I’m agent Y/L/N. I’ve just transferred from anti-terrorism, the lovely brightly coloured dressed lady told me I could find you in here.”

“Ahh that’d be Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst. Agent Y/L/N, I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat” the tall man in front of me responded, closing the file in front of him. It didn't take long for my brain to connect the dots and realise it was my file he had been reading.

“I see you got my file” I say, still smiling.

“I did, and its an impressive file at that one. I see you’ve worked with Agent Jareau before, you should get used to the rest of the teams dynamics soon. It’s... an odd dynamic” he says, smiling slightly.

“I’m used to an odd dynamic, I had a complex team to say the least” I reply, chuckling to myself slightly. Agent Hotchner smiles at my reply before standing up.

“You ready to meet the team?”

“Of course, lets go!”

We make our way out of his office and down the hall into what I believe to be a conference room of sorts. As we make our way in my thought were confirmed when I was met by 5 sets of eyes, all trained on me. I recognised Penelope from earlier, I sent her a big smile before moving my eyes onto the other people stood in front of me. I also didn't fail to recognise JJ sat down at the table, as well as another face that I couldn't quite put a name to.

“I wasn't we were getting a transfer Hotch. Who’s this pretty face?” a dark skinned man spoke out, extent ending his hand out to mine.

“I’m Agent Y/L/N, nice to meet you” I reply, shaking his hand and smiling at him.

“Derek” Agent Hotchner says raising his eyebrow, “Team, meet Agent Y/L/N who’s just transferred from anti-terrorism.”

“Y/N? Hi I didn't recognise you!” JJ squeals, standing up and rushing towards me, arms out.

“Hey JJ, it’s nice to see you again. No I had black hair back then and as you can see, I’m a red head now” I laugh, giving her a hug.

“I can see that, nice hair!”

“”Y/N this is Dr. Spence-”

“Dr. Spencer Reid, hi. I was at one of the seminars you and Agent Rossi guest spoke at last year” I say, smiling widely.

“Hi, I thought I recognised you. It’s nice to speak to you again” he replied, with a smile on his face. Something tells me that he didn't get recognised a lot by the expression on his face when I spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you Agent Y/L/N” Agent Rossi says, extending his hand. I accept the invitation and shake his hand. A smile hadn't left my face since I walked into the room.

“Where’s Emily?” Agent Hotchner asks the room.

“I’m here, sorry traffic was a nightmare” a response comes from my left. I move my gaze onto the beautiful brunette that had just walked into the room. All the air from my lungs seemed to be sucked out at the sight of her,

“Prentiss this is Agent Y/L/N, she’s just transferred here from the anti-terrorism team.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you” I say, offering her a wide smile. She returns the smile, brow furrowed slightly as if she was having an internal conversation with herself. 

“Please, call me Y/N. Y/L/N makes me feel like my mother” I say, making the team laugh.

“Now introductions are out of the way, shall we Garcia?”

“Of course sir, today we are off to Chicago.”

-

“You did well today Y/N, not many people would be able to connect the dots as quickly as you could. Well apart from the boy wonder laying on the couch” Derek comments from across the table.

“I heard that Derek” Spencer shoots back, sending a chuckle through the four of us.

“Why thank you, I have a sharp eye” I say, with a semi-flirty tone in my voice.

“So, tell us more about you.”

“Well I joined the FBI 8 years ago now I think, I was bouncing around teams for about a year until I joined anti-terrorism. I stayed their for 7 years until I decided a change of scenery was just what I needed. Luckily Hotch got in contact just after I’d decided I wanted to switch to a different team. And here I am.” My gaze slipping onto the brunette sat next to him.

“Talk about lucky timing” JJ says from besides me.

“You could say that” I reply, winking at Emily.

“Any juicy details we should know about?” Derek says, wiggling his eyebrows.

I chuck the file in my hand down onto the table and lean forwards slightly. “What do you want to know handsome?”

“Well, are you single? Boyfriend? Married?”

Smirking I lean backwards into my seat, “Nope, single for many years now and even if I wasn't, I wouldn't have a boyfriend.”

“You’ve lost me angel face” Derek responds, brows furrowed slightly.

“Well I’m a bit like you Derek. Except for the face I’m not a ladies man, I’m a ladies lady” I reply, smirk on my face. Emily’s face lifts up from the file in her hands, eyes connecting with mine and smirking at me. 

“No fucking way. You’re gay” he says, eyes wide open with shock.

“You say that like its a bad thing Derek.”

“No no no! I didn't mean it like that, I-”

“Yo chill out” I say, reaching my hand out to grab Derek’s arm, “it’s cool. I get the reaction, most people either react like that or even worse. I get it.”

“Please know I didn't mean anything by what I said” Derek says, the panicked tone in his voice prominent.

“Derek, its all good I promise. I know you mean well” I reply, sounding as sincere as I could.

“He had the same reaction when I came out, don't worry about it?” My head snapped up, straight to the source of the voice. My smile quickly turned into a smirk,

“Oh did he now?”

“Yup, then he tried to set me up with one of Penelope’s friends. Unsuccessfully, may I add.” Her smirk now mirrored mine.

“Don’t worry Derek, I won’t need you to set me up with anyone.”

“Oh, and why would that be sweetheart” Derek inquires, a smirk growing on his face as he puts together the pieces. My line of sight swaps from Derek to Emily, my own smirk evident.

“I’ve got this one on my own” I reply, winking at Emily one final time before picking the file back up from the table.

-

The last few months at the BAU have been some of the best ones in my career. Granted, they’ve been bonkers and the team has been all over America. But overall, I couldn't be happier being here. Actually thinking about that statement, I could be happier. But that’s not the point here. We’ve had some good cases, some bad cases, and some truly hideous cases. But we’ve got through them together. As a team.

Speaking of team, we’d just got back from a pretty straight forward case - well, as straight forward as cases go in this job - and most of the team scattered, having done the paperwork on the plane ride home. I believe the only ones left in the office are myself and Hotch, although I think Emily is around here somewhere as her bags are still at upon her desk. I hadn't got all my paperwork done on the plane as my attention had been elsewhere, but I didn't fancy having a stack of paperwork to do tomorrow so I decided to stay back and get it done. Besides, it wasn't as if I had anyone to go home to. If anything, the person I wanted to go home to might still be in the building with me. I’d call that a win. 

My suspicions about Emily being here were confirmed when Emily sauntered into the office with 2 cups of coffee in her hands, making a beeline straight to my desk.

“Hey gorgeous, is Hotch still here?” I ask, spinning round in my chair to meet her body as she plants herself onto the edge of my desk. She leans down slightly, handing me a cup from her hand.

“Soy milk caramel latte, right?” Emily asks, brow raised. Nodding my head, I reply,

“Perfect. I’m surprised you remembered.” “I remember everything you tell me princess” she replies, her head tilting down a bit to meet my gaze, “and as for Hotch, no he left a few minutes ago. I bumped into him coming out of the elevators. It’s just us here. Speaking of which, why are you still here? You never stay this late.”

“Ahh keeping tabs on me now are we Prentiss?” I ask in a flirty tone.

“You know I am sweetheart” she says back, with the same flirty tone. This wasn't unusual for us, we flirted all the time. Some might say we are worse than Penelope and Derek but I say we are better than them. It’s never led anywhere though but who knew, tonight could be different.

“Y/N?”A hand comes up to my face and pulls my chin up so I our eyes meet. Her fingers run down my cheeks slightly before pulling away. My cheeks instantly flush at both the contact and the loss of contact.

Coughing slightly and maintaining eye contact, I reply softly “yeah I’m here. Sorry I zoned out for a second. What did you say?”

“I asked why you were still here again.”

“Oh right sorry. I was a bit preoccupied on the plane to finish all the paperwork off and I’d rather not come in tomorrow and see files stacked on my desk. Especially considering we don't know where we’ll be tomorrow” I reply, sarcasm lacing in my voice causing her to chuckle lightly.

“A very wise decision on your part there Y/N” Emily says, voice trailing off at the end. It was my turn to reach up and make skin to skin contact. But since she was sat on my desk her face was too far up for me to reach without me standing up. So I placed my hand on her arm and rubbed it gently.

“You okay Em?”

“Yeah all good” she says, her hand laying on top of mine. It was rare that we had moments like this, so when they did happen it makes me treasure each of them a bit more than the last one. 

“Em, come on. You can talk to me you know.”

“Do you ever think that life is passing you up sometimes?”

“It sure feels like that sometimes” I say with a sigh, “why, what do you think’s passing you up?”

“Any sort of life outside of the BAU. A family. Kids. A partner. Hell, even any sort of stable life. Me and you both know that we don't get any sort of down time with this job” Emily practically yells out “how am I supposed to get any private life stability with this kind of job?” 

Sighing softly I stand up from my seat and walk a few steps closer to Emily’s position on my desk. It’s a bit nerve wracking since we’ve never been this close before. But this wasn't about me and Emily, it was about making sure she would be okay.

“Hey come here” I take her hand into mine, trying to soothe out the anxieties in her, “look I’m not going to stand here and say that this job makes for an easy life outside of it because we both know that’d be a load of bullshit. But what I am going to say is that you can’t lose hope about all of this. Yes this job is practically impossible for stability, but I believe it can be done. You just have to work twice as hard unfortunately. But hey, nothing good in life is ever free, is it?”

The final comment seems to make her laugh, easing the tension in a heartbeat. “Thank you Y/N, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, you know that” I say, a wide smile plastered on my face.

Emily hesitates for a second, unsure if she wants to say anything. “Do I?” she finally replies. I take a step backwards, confused as to what's going on.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m serious Y/N!” Emily yells, finally loosing her temper, “how do I know that you're not just here for the chase, for the game?”

“You don’t Em” I begin. Emily doesn't take well to the start of my speech, getting up and storming over to her desk before turning back round to me.

“That’s not ... how does that-”

“Let me finish Em!” I shout, retracing her steps over to her.

“Okay, sorry.”

“You don’t know that I’m not here for the ‘game” I quote, “because I have only shown you the signs that this is a game to me. I swear this, this thing we have between us, its not a game. Not to me anyway. You have had me under a spell since the day I locked eyes on you four months and 13 days ago.”

“You’ve been counting?” she chuckles, making me laugh with her.

“I wish I could say I have, but Spencer informed me earlier how long I'd been longing after you.He said it was time one of us told the other how we felt.”

“Good old Spencer.”

“No really, without hearing that from Spence earlier I don't think I’d have had the courage to tell you. Not for a while anyway. Here's the thing Emily. You put up all these walls to stop people from coming in, but the higher your walls get the more I want to break them down. No matter what it might cause. Because I am falling for you Emily Prentiss and I need to know you’ll be here to catch me when I fall.”

The room falls silent, my words sinking into Emily. Judging by the air, I put two and two together and realise I’ve just blown my shot. Or any chance I may have had. Spinning round on the balls of my feet I drag myself away from the woman whom I adored and to my desk, gathering up the paperwork and placing it into my bag. I hear footsteps crossing the room but don’t think twice about it, figuring she was running away. Not that I could blame her, I had come on quite suddenly I guess. What I didn’t realise was that the footsteps had been coming my way until a hand grabbed my arm and soft lips smash onto mine. It took a few moments to realise what was happening before my mouth moved at the same pace as the one attached to me did.

Just the thought of kissing Emily made the butterflies in my stomach go crazy; but this, this was a whole new level of butterflies. And fireworks. Lots of fireworks. Like the firework show over the Thames on New Years Eve, but better. So much better. The fireworks only increase when I feel Emily’s tongue run across my lips, asking for permission to enter. Granting her permission, the kiss goes from being controlled and passionate to frenzied and full of lust. The kiss goes on for what feels like simultaneously forever and not long enough (although there will never be enough time to kiss Emily) before I pull back for air. Our eyes open at the same time and become locked on one another, neither of us moving too much. 

Our happy little bubble quickly pops when a text tone alerts us that we’d got an emergency case that we needed to leave for within the hour, giving me and Em very little time to change before we were to meet the rest of the team on the tarmac. Luckily for us I always carried two changes of clothes in each of my go bags meaning we both had a change of clothes and didn't need to go home.

After getting changed and sorted we both headed down to our cars, knowing it'd be incredibly suspicious if we both rolled up in the same car. Even though we know Penelope probably caught our takeout on the CCTV cameras, we knew she wouldn't spill without confronting us first. We share a quick, but passionate, kiss before splitting up and heading to the tarmac separately.

We were met by the eyes of a suspicious Derek Morgan and a half asleep, yet smirking Spencer Reid when we stepped onto the plane. Granted, my ponytail may have been a bit messy but he has no solid proof as to who (or what) caused it. I fell into the seat opposite Spencer, who'd since put his book on the table between us and shoot a wink his way. Spencer chuckles, causing Derek to sulkily say “what, so pretty boy gets to know the 410 but not me.” The conversation unfortunately got put to a halt there as Hotch comes onto the plane with a concrete look on his face, alerting us that the case was more severe than we’d thought.

“I’m so sorry for calling you in so soon after we got back, but you know I wouldn't do it unless it was absolutely necessary. Don’t worry, we have a long flight ahead of us so you can all get some rest before we arrive. Garcia, go ahead.”

“Okay my lovely cherubs, we are off on a not so lovely case to Nashville, Tennessee...”

-

“Oh it’s been a week too long Quantico” I mutter to myself, pushing the elevator button. I’d had a week of off days to use up so I decided to visit my best friend in sunny Florida. It’d been an odd week that’s for sure. When I flew out I decides to keep my break completely communication free, telling Hotch that unless I’d been fired then everything could wait until when I got back. I even left my phone stuffed in between paperwork inside my desk. In hindsight, definitely not the best move on my behalf. But nothing could’ve ever pointed to what was going to happen within the last week, so I didn't think twice about cutting all contact and communication for a week. I expected everything to be the same as it was before I left. However as the elevator doors opened to the 6th floor, the air became sticky and heavy. I didn't think much of it until I opened the glass doors into the BAU and saw the team all stood near my desk, awaiting my arrival.

“Hey guys! As nice as it was to get away, I’m so glad I’m home” teary eyes all look at me, each of them trying to find the right words to say, “Jesus Christ, who died?”

My apparent attempt to lighten up the mood did the complete opposite, causing Spencer to collapse in a flood of tears. I jerk my eyes quickly from a huddled up genius to a hard faced Hotch. “Hotch, what the hell is going on?”

“I need you to sit down Y/N” he replies, dragging my chair out from under my desk.

“You’re scaring me now Hotch” I reply, taking a seat and gently placing down my bags down before turning slightly to face them all, my eyes finally doing a sweep of who's here. JJ stands the furthest away, in her own little world, with Penelope holding Reid slightly further forwards. Rossi stands with his hand on top of Morgan’s shoulder, his fingers almost massaging Derek’s skin every now and again, soothing the obviously distressed boy. Hotch sits on a chair in front of me, reaching his own hand out to hold mine. It takes my brain a few moments to register that Emily isn't present.

“Where’s Em?” I ask, peering around the empty room to try find the brunette I adored so much.

“Y/N. When you were away, there was a case. A personal case. One that included Emily’s past.” Hotch starts.

“Okay, I still don't understand how that answers my question. What happened on the case? Is Emily okay? Was she hurt” starting to get agitated.

“Y/N-” 

“Emily’s dead Y/N” Derek yells, “the bastard killed her.”

“WHAT!”

“I’m so sorry Y/N, she was fighting someone named Doyle and he killed her.”

“No, this cant be right” I yell, getting up from my seat in a trance. “You’re lying, she's right here. She’s just in the conference room, look!” I run to the conference room, shouting “Em” as I search the room for her. I hear the footsteps behind me coming into the room as I stop in the middle of the room, feeling sick to my stomach.

“She’s gone Y/N, I was with her on the way to the hospital” Derek says softy, his sentence causing me to fall into a heap on the floor. Bodies rush to my side, but none of them are the body I crave the most. I know Spencer’s the one with his head against mine when I feel the tears fall from his cheeks onto my forehead.

“I’m so sorry Y/N” he whispers, kissing my forehead lightly.

“I- I never got to tell her that I love her” I say, the last bit of my facade crumbling causing me to sob violently into Spencer’s arms. More arms wrap around me as my sobs become more hysterical.

Within minutes my body had become numb from all the pressure being put on it, but I couldn't care less right now. I just want my Emily back. “I want my Emily back.” A sentence, when said aloud, caused the majority of the team to break down. Including the two team members isolated by the door.

“Hotch are you sure it has to be this way?”

“If there was any other way then we’d have done that. You know that JJ.”

“But look at her Hotch, she’s never going to get past this.”

“She has to, the team needs her.”

“I can’t stand here and look at her like that Hotch, I have to get out of here”

Above the cries of the room I could make out JJ and Hotch’s voices having a hushed conversation, one they obviously didn’t want anyone hearing from the tones of their voices. I, however, picked up a bit of the conversation before it was cut short by the small, teary eyes blonde storming out.

-

I can’t tell you how long it’s been since Emily’s funeral, partly because I’ve completely lost track of time. I wasn't allowed to be on my own for long periods of time, under Hotch’s order, so most nights I’d stayed with Derek. He’s become my rock throughout this all. Him and JJ. If I didn't have them I think I’d still be in complete denial about the whole thing. All I do know is in whatever time had passed, the team managed to get Doyle in their custody. Without much struggle apparently, which I have to admit is a bit odd considering how many years he'd gone under the radar before. I wasn't allowed into the room with him, which is understandable. Hell, I wasn't allowed into the same vicinity as him without at least two other people with me. He murdered the love of my life and, from what I’d been filled in on, the love of his life. I just sat at my desk in autopilot mode, just getting things done. I wasn't much more helpful in the field mind you, so I usually stayed back with Penelope when the team had a more complex case. 

A gentle squeeze of my shoulder jolts me back to reality. It was Rossi. He said Hotch had called a team meeting in the conference room and required all of our presences, specifically mine apparently. Whatever that meant. Derek helped me into the conference room and into a chair closest to the door we’d just walked through. My joints groaning at me from the lack of movement in them recently. Not that I could've helped it. Some comments are passed around the room upon my arrival, not that I could tell you anything that’d been said. 

“Damn Hotch wasn't kidding about needing us all” I mutter under my breath as Hotch files in from the door in front of me. 

“Welcome back” Derek says.

“Thank you” Hotch responds, “Everybody have a seat.”

Glancing at each other in a confused matter, the rest of the team take their seats. Derek stayed standing up, placing himself as close as he could to my seat.

“Why? What’s going on, is everything alright?” Derek asks, taking my hand into his and pressing circles into it. JJ appears in front of us next to Hotch, further confusing the team.

“7 months ago I made a decision that affected the team. Some of us more than others” Hotch started, his gaze flickering to mine. My brows furrowed and I squeezed Derek’s hand slightly tighter as out eyes met. “As you all know Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle” wait, had? “The doctors were able to stabilise her and she was airlifted from Boston to Birthesta under a covered exploitation.” Everyone’s eyes lifted up, snapping from person to person, wondering if they’d heard right - including me.

“No” I muttered lowly.

“Her identity was strictly on a need to know basis. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, one of which we had access to for her security.”

The room fell silent for a minute, everyone starting to process what they'd just been told.

“You’re lying” I say, my voice still low but my eyes moving up to meet JJ’s. Her eyes met mine with an apologetic glint in them. “No fucking way.”

“Sh- she’s alive?” Penelope asks through her tears. Hotch’s slight head tilt gave us our answer.

“But we buried her...” Spencer says, his voice breaking and trailing off at the end.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

“Any issues?” Derek says, his voice raising “yeah I got issues. This girl has been a shell of herself since Emily’s funeral and now your telling us Emily was never dead in the first place?!” Footsteps make their way up the corridor and stop a few metres behind me.

I noticed JJ and Hotch’s attention move slowly onto the person behind me. “No” I muttered again slowly standing up, this time loud enough to gain everyone’s attention. As quick as I’d gained the attention, I’d lost it again. Everyone’s faces had a look of pure shock and surprise on them. All of them apart from Hotch and JJ’s. “I knew it” I growled lowly, my gaze pointed directly on JJ.

“Y/N” JJ began, but got cut off by Penelope’s gasp.

“Oh my god.”

I didn't need to look behind me to know who was stood by the door. It was Emily...

“Hi” the soft voice says, “I’m so-”

“I trusted you JJ. I trusted you and all this time you knew she was still alive?!”

“Y/N, I couldn’t-”

“I don't care if you couldn't! I called you up, every single night, for the last 6 and a half month in tears because I couldn't cope with the pain. I had to live at Derek’s apartment because I can’t go home.”

“Y/N, you need to calm down.”

“No Hotch, I won't calm down! I have woken up every morning screaming and with sweat running down my face because I’ve just watched the woman I love die. I don't care that you couldn't tell me. I care about the fact I put all my trust in you only to find out she’s still alive!” I scream, spinning round and pointing at the figure in the doorway.

“Oh my god you're still alive” I say, my voice rough from screaming so loudly.

“Hi Y/N” she replies, a small smile ghosting her lips as she speaks.

“No, I can’t do this” I say, moving around my seat and making my way to where Emily stands. As I try to make my way out, she grabs hold of my arm and pulls me back

“Y/N stop, we need to talk about this-”

I snatch my arm quickly out of her grasp, “No, I have nothing to say to you. And don't you dare think about following me!” I respond, running out of the room and out of the office as quickly as I could.

Emily Prentiss is still alive...

-

The news about Emily’s not death had spread around quickly. The team had managed to catch the ones hunting for Doyle’s son and Doyle had been shot dead, along with a few others. I wouldn't have known that however, had Derek not shot me a text to tell me what’d happened. vI’d spent every minute since I got home laying in the arm chair I’d sat in when it first clicked that I’d fallen completely in love with Emily. We were sat playing cards one evening after a case and I’d just called her out for cheating, she was defending herself so articulately that it made something just click in my brain. I realised I was in love with her, but I was always too big of a wuss to say it to her face. I think deep down she knew, but if she did she never said anything. 

A gentle, but firm rasp at my door knocked me out of the spell I was in. I knew that rasp anywhere, and I knew that it could only be one person at my door.

“Y/N, I know you're in their. Please, I need to talk to you” the voice said, further confirming who it was. On the other side of the door stood Emily Prentiss, and I was about to come face to face with her since I stormed out of the conference room 4 days ago.

I pad over to the door, unlocking the clasp and walk back to my chair, sitting back down in the position I was in before. I can hear a sign come from behind the wood before the door creaks open. Emily slips into the room and locks the door behind her, taking off her coat and making her way to where I sit.

“Can I?’ she asks tentatively.

“Sure...”

Em places herself strategically into the sofa directly opposite from where I sat, knowing this was the best way at getting me to interact with her at all. We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, both unsure of how to handle this.

“Look, I know you're mad at me-”

“For gods sake I’m not mad at you Emily!” I practically yell, “I’m not mad, I’m fucking hurt. Do you know this is the first time I’ve been here in nearly 8 months? I tried to come here, but I could never get passed the door because the place still smelled like you. Like that stupid perfume we all love so much.. I’ve slept in Derek’s spare room. I spent at least an hour on the phone with JJ every night because of how much my heart hurt, how much it ached for you. Poor Spencer has ripped himself up about not getting to say goodbye to you. On the outside Rossi might look like he’s stable, but these last few months have not been kind to him. If anything, he's taken it the worst out of anyone.. I’m not angry at you. Am I angry at JJ and Hotch? You bet your ass I am. I’m beyond pissed with them. But you? I could never be mad at you Emily.”

Tears were streaming down my cheeks at this point, tears I was no longer able to hide. Emily moved from her seat on the couch and crouched in front of me, our faces at the same height. Our bodies were as close to each other as we could get them without sitting on one another laps. Her hand came out and rested itself on my cheek as I subconsciously pressed my cheek further into her hand. We stayed in this position for a few moments, just taking in each other, before Emily’s voice perked up, 

“I begged JJ to tell you I was okay. These past 7 months have been the toughest months of my life. I lost my family. I lost the best people I have ever met. I lost a part of myself that night, a part of myself I’ll never be able to get back. But most heartbreaking, I lost you.. I lost you right as I got the courage to tell you how in love with you I am.”

The tears, whilst still prominent, had calmed down a bit. I hadn't looked at it that way. I may have lost my favourite person, but Emily’s entire life had been swept up from under her feet without any warning. 

I sighed, reaching up with both my hands to cup her face.

“I love you Em, so much. I just.. I need some time to process all of this” I say gently, pulling myself flush into her. She wraps her arms around my body, placing her head against my shoulder.

“Okay, take as much time as you need. I’ll still be here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise sweetheart” Emily says softly, “and I never intend to break that promise.”

Maybe we can find a way to work through this after all...

[smarchit]

Poetry for an Heiress, Chapter 8

Word Count: 4k

Summary: When a duchess and her children are abandoned far from home, they must rely on the kindness of one stranger to guide them home.

Warnings: Slight allusions to smut, mild violence (no blood/gore)

The next morning, you awoke long after the sun began to stream through the slatted shutters of the inn. You felt warm and safe and happier than you'd felt in months. You hadn't felt so relaxed and refreshed in years, the more you thought about it. It was perfect. You stretched your legs beneath the sheets and groaned in pleasure at the feeling.

"Now there is one of the most angelic sounds I've ever heard," Ezra murmured beside you. You cracked open one eye to look at him. He was laying on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching you with a serene expression.  The thin gray sheet covered him below the waist and you rolled over to look at him properly. 

You ran a hand through his disheveled hair and cupped his cheek in your palm. "Good morning, Ez," you mumbled sleepily. You shifted closer to him under the sheets and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

"Sleep well, Princess?" he asked, nudging his nose against yours. 

"I haven't slept that well in so long," you admitted with a smile. You drew up the blanket over your chest and nuzzled against his arm. 

"Nor have I," he said. "I am usually plagued by vivid nightmares and have to relive horrors no man should bear witness to in his lifetime. It's why I tear through novels like they are simple children's stories. Better to keep the mind occupied with fantasy than to face reality."

You frowned and traced his lips and the contour of his sharp nose with your fingers. "You of all people should know it does not do well to bury your head in the sand. It can be dangerous."

"If I fell asleep to your touch every night and awoke to this every morning," Ezra hummed, "I doubt I would ever have trouble sleeping again."

"Perhaps only for one reason," you replied with a grin as you leaned up to kiss him.

Just as Ezra leaned down to meet your lips with a smirk, there was an excited pounding at the door. The two of you broke away almost instantly.

"Mama!" Marie cried from the other side of the door. "Mama, wake up!"

Ezra looked over his shoulder and chuckled before dropping his head to your breast and placing a single kiss there. "Perfect timing," he groaned as he slid out of bed. He grabbed his pants and yanked them on before he tossed you his sweater from the day before.

"As always," you chuckled. You pulled on the sweater and tidied your hair as best you could. 

Marie's incessant knocking continued until Ezra pulled open the door. 

"Mama!" Marie squealed as she clambered up onto the bed. "Mama! We're going back to see grandmother, aren't we?" She squished your face between her hands and pressed her nose to yours.

With a laugh, you gently pried her hands from your face and nodded. "Yes, my little bug. We are going to see her today."

"And we can introduce her to Mr. Ezra, can't we?" Marie snuggled against you and turned in your lap to look at Ezra as he pulled on a threadbare t-shirt. 

"That's only if Mr. Ezra wants to," you reminded her gently. "And if he has the time. He is more than welcome, though."

Ezra chuckled and nodded. "We shall see if my busy schedule allows for it, little bird. For now though, what would you and your brothers say to some breakfast?"

Marie gasped and nodded as she clapped her hands excitedly. "Breakfast! Yes, please!"

"Go wake your lazy bones brothers up," he said, holding the door open for her. "Dressed and clean, the lot of you!"

You drew your legs up beneath the blankets as Ezra shut the door behind her. Ezra's tone was very paternal towards your children and you couldn't help but smile at the feeling that stirred inside you.

"You're so good with them," you said softly when he looked at you with a puzzled expression. "The children simply adore you. That's plain enough for anyone to see."

He smiled and picked a dress out of the backpack for you. "I would have to be a fool to not see it, Princess. Here, this dress is one of my favorites, I'd like to see it on you one last time."

You bit your lip and brushed your hand against his when he handed it to you. "Ez, I---"

"A short, sweet goodbye," he said, bringing your hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss there before letting it fall to your lap. "It will be best for all of us."

You brushed the tears away and looked down at the dress he had handed you. It was the dress you wore the first full day on the little farm. Soft, cream colored cotton with a pale pink floral pattern. It barely brushed against your calves and the lace trim at the bottom hem had become tattered and tickled the back of your legs when you walked.

Ezra smiled sadly and watched you for a moment from the washroom door before he shut it behind him. 

You waited until you heard the water running before you climbed out of bed to change. Something caught your attention in the pocket after you smoothed down the front and you reached in and pulled out a flat gray stone. The surface was smooth and cool under your fingers. It was from the day you'd all gotten up before dawn to hike to a nearby lake. Ezra had taught the children how to skip stones across the surface of the water. You sat on the edge of the bed and held it in your palms until it grew warm to the touch, trying to hold onto the memory of that day.

The bedroom door opened with a bang and the children entered, all asking a million questions at the same time. Henry climbed into your lap as you slid the stone back into your pocket. He yawned widely and then grinned at you.

"Mama, guess what!" he asked, bouncing on your legs. Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "I lost another tooth!"

"Oh, darling, that's wonderful!" you exclaimed. "How many have you lost so far? Four?"

"Three," Aiden chirped from beside you. "I lost four."

"Ah, yes," you chuckled, squeezing Henry tightly. "Now I remember that. Well, give it here, I will make sure I hold on tight to it."

Henry passed over the tooth and flashed you his gapped-tooth smile. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and gently nudged him off your lap.

You began to tidy up the hotel room, collecting both yours and Ezra's scattered clothing from the night before. It didn't take long until everything was sorted and repacked. By the time you'd finished, Ezra had rejoined you, his hair still damp from the washer. 

The children had stopped jumping on the bed so they could sit with him and listen to the story he was telling them. Marie sat, wide-eyed and captivated as he described the princess who traversed the entire galaxy, searching for her lost love. It was a story Ezra had been telling them nightly for the past week or so. He looked up at you and winked when he told the children of the princess' love confession in order to save her lover from the clutches of an evil witch.

"No matter where you go or what you do," he said softly. "There will be nothing in this galaxy or any other that will keep me from you. Through every black hole and supernova, I will always be there."

"Count on it!" the children erupted into giggles as they parroted what was apparently the fictional princess' catchphrase. 

You smiled as Ezra hugged each of the children separately. Little Marie clung to his neck and refused to let him go.

"Come on," he gently urged the children. "Let's go get something good to eat and then I can take you home. What do you say?"

The children all nodded sadly and stood up. "Yes, Mr. Ezra."

"Now," he hummed, "Why those long faces? You're gonna be home with your grandmother soon. And you'll forget all about me soon enough."

Marie snuggled in closer and shook her head. "I don't ever want to forget about you, Mr. Ezra! I promise I won't."

"Oh, little bird," he soothed. "It'll be alright, don't you worry."

You sighed softly and picked up the knapsack off the bed. Henry held tight to his brother's hand and stood beside the door as you got ready to leave. Neither of them would look at you or at Ezra and it broke your heart.

A few hours later, after a breakfast that you intentionally let go on much longer than necessary, you finally approached the palace gates where until recently, you had never left their safety for longer than a few weeks. It was nice to be back, you figured, you just wished Ezra would be staying as well. Perhaps you could convince him to stay for at least one night. His words about a short goodbye echoed in your head. Neither of you had made it particularly easy and only seemed to prolong your inevitable goodbyes with every passing minute.

You called to get the children's attention as you stood outside the gates. As you tried to make them look as presentable as possible, Ezra hung around, watching you with a fond expression.

Ezra cleared his throat in an attempt to distract himself from the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. He knew he would regret leaving for the rest of his days. But you deserved better than a shabby little rundown farm and a one armed ex-aurelac harvester. He felt like he was unworthy of your love, hell, unworthy of your very presence. He was too rough, too violent. His hands were too bloody from his past to hold you at night.

"Ezra, will you please come inside?" you asked, reaching over to touch his arm. "My mother, she will want to thank you properly. And you could stay for a day or two to gather your supplies. Perhaps they will give you payment as a reward for returning us home." You reached out with your other hand to press the button to let yourself through the gates.

Ezra shook his head and offered a small smile. "What I want isn't something that money can buy, Princess. I am just happy to know that you are safe now. Besides, a palace seems a slight bit too regal for my less than refined appearance. I worry I would repulse even the poor staff with my presence."

You wanted to protest his denial, wanted to throw yourself into his arms and beg him to stay with you and the children, not just for the night, but forever more. You nearly burst into tears when you looked over as the front door swung open. The fence opened just wide enough for you two usher the children through.

Edgar came walking towards you, followed quickly by three palace guards. To your surprise, he actually looked less enthused than he normally did. He wore a deep scowl on his face and glared at Ezra as he got closer.

"I should go, Princess," Ezra said, softly. He brushed his fingers against your hand as he pressed the backpack into your arms. "Before they think me a vagrant and toss me in your dungeon. Until our paths cross again."

He helped you to squeeze through the gate before he pressed a soft kiss to your hand. "Au revoir, your highness."

You wanted to call after him as he walked away, back towards the town center. 

He would be gone in the morning light, back to Muir, back to the farm. And you might never see him again.

Beside you, the children were sobbing and begging him to come back. Marie tried to run after him, but Aiden held her close, shushing her quietly.

"Duchess, welcome home!" Edgar exclaimed as the gate swung open. The three guards quickly circled you and the children and you glanced over one of their shoulders as Ezra disappeared around the corner. 

It wasn't supposed to end like this...

"Oh, we've been so worried!" Edgar continued with a smirk, tilting your chin up with his finger. Repulsed by his sudden forwardness, you jerked away from his touch. You gasped as the larger of the three guards shoved you. The children jumped in surprise at the action. "You weren't supposed to come back, you know. You were supposed to die out there, not cavort with the locals!"

"I--- what?" you asked, trying to back away. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as the guards moved in closer. Your grip on twins' wrists tightened slightly and Henry whimpered and tried to squirm away. You tried to calm him down as best you could.

"Take them away," Edgar said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. His expression turned dark and he grinned as he grabbed your chin so he could look you in the eye. "You need to be well rested. The freighter for the Green leaves tomorrow, Duchess."

"No!" you shrieked, kicking your legs wildly as the biggest guard picked you up with ease. He struck you across the face when you cried out Ezra's name. As he slung you with ease over his shoulder, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if only Ezra had stuck around for a bit... if only you'd told him how you felt instead of just letting him leave. "No! You will unhand me at once!"

"Mama!" Aiden cried, trying to pull the guard off of you. "Let her go! Henry!"

Two of the guards went after the twins, easily capturing them when they tried to bolt. They clapped their hands over the boys' mouths to muffle their screams for help.

Edgar went after Marie, but she quickly ducked out of his reach and doubled back to kick him in the shin. He roughly grabbed her by the arm and yanked her towards him. She let out an ear piercing scream and thrashed about in his arms.

"Mama!" she shrieked, using all of her strength to twist her arm free. "He's hurting me!"

"Stop!" you begged as the guard carried you towards the back garden of the palace. It was where your adventure began, you supposed it was only fitting it was to end there too.

The guard unceremoniously tossed you into the little garden shed. You stumbled backwards into the wall and slammed your head off of a low shelf. The last thing you saw was the other guards shoving your children into the tiny shed with you.

"Mama!" Marie wailed as darkness overtook you. 

Ezra didn't want to leave. He knew that you didn't want him to leave. He knew the children didn't want him to leave. But he also knew that your family would never approve of him should he choose to stay. 

So he did the only thing that he could do. The only thing that he'd ever done when faced with a difficult challenge. He left. Like a coward. It frustrated him to no end. He hated himself for just leaving when divine Kevva above was giving him every fucking opportunity to stay.

He knew something was wrong when the butler marched out of the house with three guards in tow. Based on the way he'd heard you talk about this place, it didn't exactly seem like the welcome wagon that he expected. But you didn't seem too concerned. There was no fear in your eyes...

"Au revoir, your highness," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. He only could hope that what he wanted to say so badly was evident in his kiss.

As he walked away, he did his best to ignore the children crying out after him. It pained him to do that to the poor kids, especially given how much they'd gone through, but he was so sure he was doing the right thing.

Immediately after he rounded the corner of the fence, he heard the childrens' sharp cries for help. Fear and alarm sound different than grief, he'd learned in his many years. You were in danger. The children were in danger.

Ezra took off running in the direction he'd come from, back towards the children, back to you. He crept along the fence, following the voices of the guards, and, he could only pray, you were among them. He wasn't fast enough to reach you, though he was able to get close enough to see the guard drag you into a stone tool shed through a slat in the fencing. 

The alarmed cries of the children were almost completely muffled when the butler slammed the door of the shed.

"No one goes into that shed," the butler growled. Ezra vaguely remembered you'd called him Edgar and expressed a dislike for him, the reason for which you couldn't quite pin down.

The guards murmured in compliance as Edgar made his way back towards the house. 

All Ezra needed to do was lure three highly-trained royal guards away from the shed so he could rescue you and the children. Easy. Right?

Ezra swore under his breath as he weighed his options. The only thing he could think of right now, aside from his absolute terror for you and the children, was the irony of the situation. The butler did it.

He could hear the children pounding on the door, pleading with the guards to let them out.

"Please!" one of the boys begged, his voice barely audible to Ezra. "Our mother hit her head! She won't wake up!"

"Shut up," one of the guards ordered, slamming his fist on the door. "No one in and no one out, your highness!"

Ezra couldn't help but roll his eyes. They were part of a plot to abduct the royal family and yet they couldn't stop with the formalities. 

He looked around, trying to find some way he could get inside the fence. It wouldn't be easy. They were wealthy and could easily afford to have a study fence to keep riffraff like him out of their garden. 

"I wish Mr. Ezra was here," Marie's sweet voice came from inside the shed. She sounded close to tears. 

"Aw, shut up, Marie," came the other twin. "Do you think he's gonna come get us? He left..."

Ezra shook his head. He couldn't let this happen to the children. Couldn't let them be shipped off to the inhospitable hell that was the Green. He wouldn't let it happen, no matter what. They were children.

He stood up and scoured the outside wall of the fence. It was about eight feet high, solid concrete posts, interspersed with iron beams. It reminded Ezra of a prison, not a home for children. If he stayed behind the concrete barriers, the guards would not see him. 

He peered around the edge of the barrier, trying to see the tiny shed where the children and the Duchess were being kept.

Suddenly, he felt the cool tip of a thrower pressed against the back of his head. He slowly held up his hand and straightened his back.

"The fuck do you think you're doing back here?" asked a harsh voice, warped and deepened by a vocoder. "This is private property."

"Pardon the intrusion," Ezra said, keeping his voice even. He closed his eyes and didn't turn around to face the man who had him cornered. "It sounded like someone was in distress. I only came to investigate. I must have been incorrect."

"Get up," the voice barked. Once Ezra was on his feet, the thrower was pressed against his lower back. "Walk. Slow now, no funny shit."

"I don’t believe I am in any position to try anything, regardless of whether or not I want to."

"Shut up," the voice growled. "Walk."

"Do I have a choice?" Ezra asked, smirking to himself even as the guard shoved him forward. He tripped and fell onto his knees with a grunt. 

"Let's go," the man snarled, yanking Ezra back to his feet by his jacket collar. He pushed and shoved Ezra towards an access door in the fence further from the shed. Once inside, the guard gave him another rough shove towards the other guards.

Ezra barely caught himself from face planting into the cobblestone path of the garden with his arm. He hissed in pain and rolled onto his side.

"Caught this one snooping around," he said. "Claimed he heard a noise."

"Saw him hanging around when the Duchess rang the bell," another guard said as he turned Ezra's head with the toe of his boot.

"Maybe we can tell her majesty this one was holding her granddaughter for ransom," another sneered. He pressed his boot against Ezra's arm with enough force to cause Ezra to choke back a curse.

"There will be none of that!" Edgar hissed as he scurried back to the huddled group. "We need to act quickly. They heard the children's shouts. We must move them at once, before they suspect me further."

Ezra wheezed a laugh and shook his head as one of the guards hauled him to his knees. "You're going through a whole lot of effort just for some money."

Edgar scowled and crouched down beside him. He tangled his fist in Ezra's hair and jerked his head upright, causing him to grit his teeth and grunt in pain.

"I'm not doing it for the money, you mangy, filthy mongrel," Edgar snarled, his face dangerously close to Ezra's. "No, no. The old bat is going to leave me nothing when she finally dies. Nothing! And if her bitch of a daughter and her intolerable little brats are still in the picture, I'm to be cast out! But if there's no one left, all that power is mine."

"And you think if no one's left, it somehow magically goes to you?" Ezra wheezed through the pain in his arm. "That is some of the most absolutely dimwitted--"

Edgar scowled and delivered a quick punch to Ezra's stomach. He smirked when the other man went limp in the arms of his captors for a moment.

"Now, do be a good lad and keep quiet," Edgar urged. "I just may let you accompany the children and the Duchess on the charter to the Green if you behave."

"No chance, Eddie," he chuckled breathlessly. "I never have been one for behaving, see? Too much paperwork."

"Very well," Edgar frowned and let Ezra fall back into the arms of the guard holding him. He jerked his head in the direction of the tiny tool shed. "Just you then. Kill them."

"No!" Ezra cried desperately as the guards readied their throwers. The low hum of charging weapons filled the brief silence that followed. His voice echoed off the palace walls and Edgar turned to him with a smile. "Please. Do not kill them." Ezra bared his teeth at the butler. "Let them go! Now! I worked on the Green before. I can do it again! I will take their place on the Green. Not them, please. Please--"

"That's enough!" a voice rang out, crisp and clear through the tension of the garden. "What in Kevva's name is going on out here?!”

********************

Aight it’s up! I’m gonna go reward myself with leftover Taco Bell and wine.

TAGLIST: 

@the-feckless-wonder @gallowsjoker @phoenixhalliwell @waatermelon-sugaar @huliabitch @miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @auandromedus

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Merfolk's Curse (Pt.7)

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

Logan hardly felt emotions for himself, or at least, felt them outwardly, but the pit in his stomach couldnt seem to settle. He felt lost without Roman, and guilty at what had been done to him. He was lost in his own head and he desperately wanted to get out.

He couldnt sleep it off, for his dreams had turned to sharp-toothed nightmares of drowning and song.

He couldnt bring himself to eat anything, it never stayed down for long, and he couldnt drink anything either, it seemed to have the same results.

"Roman I'm so sorry. . . it's all my fault. . ." he whispered, seemingly to no one.

By the next morning he hadnt done much, his bones felt to heavy for his body. His mouth was dry and his eyes were watering from fatigue.

"Logan! Logan you've got to see this!" Patton called from the top of the ship. Logan got himself dressed and walked back to the top, Patton was holding a letter in one hand, and in the other was perched a larger raven with what looked to be a purple collar around its neck.

"What is it Patton?" Logan rubbed his eyes.

"Its a letter from Roman, some of his old friends found him at a carnival, theres an address, he even signed off with a fin-print!" Patton shoved the letter in Logan's face. Maybe it was the sleep-deprivation, or Logan's hopelessness, but it took him a while to understand that the letter was authentic, the crown shaped edges on the fin-print were exactly the same as those on Roman's tail and dorsal fin. Logan felt as if he might cry. He was going to see Roman again, and Roman was safe, he was with friends and he was happy. He was actually genuinely happy.

"Shall I set out a course then?" said Patton, smiling.

"Wh- oh! Yes- I'll uh- be in my cabin," Logan said, walking away. He'd almost gone downstairs before remembering to give the letter back to Patton so he could set out a course.

Logan decided to try and sleep again, with the news of Roman's safety in his mind, he was much happier.

Roman himself was faring much better than he had in the past few days, no longer malnourished and exhausted, he and Janus could chase eachother in the large lake out back for hours at a time.

"You two better not scratch each other up to much!" Virgil said from the chair overlooking the lake.

"We wont darling dont worry," Janus said, pinning Roman to a wall almost imeadietly afterward.

"No fair! I wasnt paying attention!" Roman pouted, prying him off.

"All's fair in the lake little prince," Janus chuckled as he chased him down again.

"I missed this witty banter of ours, yknow, it was nice," Roman hid himself behind a set of rocks, burrowing slightly into the sand.

"I missed it to, I tried finding you but it seemed you were never around this part of the ocean when I looked," Janus replied as he dragged Roman back to the surface.

"Boys! News!" Virgil called. The two mermen rested the top halves of their bodies on the shore, watching as Virgil's personal messenger raven perched itself on the ornate stand next to his chair, and jostled its neck to show off the letter attached to its collar.

"Good girl, now go on, theres treats for you in the kitchen," Virgil said, taking the letter from the bird and watching it fly away.

"What's it say darling?" Janus tilted his head, leaning it slightly on one hand.

"They're charting a course for us now, should be here in a few days time," said Virgil.

"A few days?" Roman said, voice falling slightly.

"I'm sure it'll be alright Roman, dont worry your pretty little head about it," said Janus.

But Roman didnt feel fine. He swam laps in the lake, and rested uneasily at the bottom of the indoor tank for nearly a week, before finally, six days later, an announcement was made.

"Ship! On the docks!" Janus go get Roman!" Virgil's voice echoed through the house, the next second Roman was being pulled out of his tank and rushed outside.

He didnt understand what was going on until he was in the arms of someone much more familiar.

"Logan. . ." Roman buried his face in Logan's chest, relishing in the smell of his cologne.

"Oh Roman I'm so sorry, I love you so much Roman I'm never going to let you go again," Logan whispered in his ear. Roman could feel Logan's tears falling onto his face.

"Its not your fault Lolo, it's not your fault I promise," Roman responded, nuzzling further into the crook of his neck.

"BROTHER!" Roman was startled out of his trance by the booming voice of his brother, Logan set him down in the water next to him.

"And where have you been for the last two years?" Roman said, raising an eyebrow.

"Building an island," Remus said this casually as if it was something all meroctopi were capable of doing.

"Oh- and uh- taking care of my daughter," Remus said, sinking down slightly to show Roman the little girl cradled in his arms. Her eyes were a mixture of sea green with a tinge of red, and brown curls lay nearly to the bottom of her face.

"Aaaaaaawwwww- shes so tinyyyy," Roman said, holding a hand out as Carly made a grab for him.

"Her name's Carly," Remus smiled as he replied, handing the bundle back up to Patton, who was still standing on the deck.

"Well, are you ready to get home?" said Remus. Roman nodded enthusiastically.

"Would you prefer open ocean or a luxury trip?" Remus said.

"I want to be as close to Logan as possible," Roman responded, looking over his shoulder at the man. He smiled with satisfaction as he noticed the blush that crept up Logan's face.

He hadnt realized until he was on the ship how little he liked being in ship tanks at this point. It was nice, yes,nearly perfect, but it still reminded him of what had happened. So he kept most of his body at the top, talking to Logan.

"Roman- theres- something I have to tell you, something I learned on the way here," Logan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What is it?" Roman's expression shifted to one of worry, Logan being nervous was never a good sign.

"I was- reading something about merpeople- about sirensong mutations- and their ability to gain legs and- oh Roman I'm so sorry it's all my fault I never shouldve rejected you so harshly," Logan nearly flung himself into the tank before Roman caught him, holding him close.

"Logan it's alright. . breathe Lolo, breathe. . ." Roman ran his fingers through Logan's hair, watching as tears formed in his eyes.

"But Roman! You might never have legs because of me!" Logan said, tears falling even faster now.

"Logan I don't care about having legs anymore! I care about you!" Roman pressed his forehead to Logan's, smiling slightly.

"You. . . dont? But you always seemed so excited?" Logan puzzled.

"That was because I missed my friends and family, but now I know where they are and how to visit them, now i have you! Logan it's ok! I dont need them," Roman said.

"I'm just happy you're safe," Logan said as he climbed back onto the deck.

"I'm happy to," Roman smiled, resting his head in his arms now that they werent wrapped around Logan.

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

Tag list:

@nerosdayinhell

@official-lucifers-child

@spooky-scary-virgil

@youtuberswithalex

@misunderstoodshadowling

@pretty-as-princey

@meowthefluffy

@sleepy-sphinx

@cemmy

@romanvirgil

@seraphlies

@sassismypower

@melodiread

@lallyphant

@tssidesfamily

@soup-stars-and-silence

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 23.5

Chapter title: Anybody Happen to know how the Hell To Do This?

A/n:  Eyyy! After two weeks Im back!! Just finished finals and decided hey finish your filler chapter! SO :D ANyway YES THIS IS A FILLER CHAPTER!! Because I couldnt write an actual one and ALSO NEEDED SOME LOGICALITY DEVELOPMENT ANYWAY IM SORRY IT SUCKS AND ENJOY

hi my names maria and i make everything bAD AND DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON :(

First | Previous | Next

words: 3476

summary: Patton and Logan work through some thing

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Law and Courtroom, past trauma, crying and yelling, cursing

Ao3 Link  

The first thought was panic, panic as Patton felt an even heartbeat behind him, an arm securing him. His mind runs to the previous night. A safety around him.

“Where should I put him?” Logan asks, cradling a snoring Remus, struggling to find a comfortable position. Patton looks at his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom, his tired eyes happier than usual.

“He likes the middle” Patton responds, he hears careful shuffling but not justification with an answer. He finishes preparing for his sleep, brushing any stressful knots out of his more than curled hair.  “Log-” He quiets himself, his eyes land on the bed where a confused Remus sits up as Logan mumbles in his dazed state. He stifles a flustered chuckles.

Yet he felt the furthest thing from safe, absolute fear as he stumbles out of bed. Clutching instantly to the plastered walls of his room, his safe haven.

“Come here” He whispers to Remus, he waddles towards him jumping into Pattons arms. He laughs sweetly, placing a gentle kiss on Remus’s head. “Bed?” He asks, Remus nods through a yawn. He glances back at Logan but moves to the twins room, tucking in his son, making sure he feels comfortable, and safe. A promise of protection before he returns to his own room.

“No” He cries in a panicked hush, his palms forced closed. Logan startles awake standing fast as he watches Patton's breathing become unstable. The lawyer moves carefully, keeping a safe distance.

“Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” He hears Logan mutter into the pillow, he covers a giggle before kneeling on the floor in front of the lawyer. He strokes his hair delicately, watching as Logans eyes flutter awake. “Mm?”

“Hi” He greets, the moon sneaking its way into the room. Logan smiles back through his state.

“I should head home” He decides, trying to get out of bed. Patton chuckles, shaking his head.

“Dont be ridiculous, its past midnight” Patton chides “You can stay here” He continues his gentle strokes. Logan musters up the laziest fight, feeling as though he’d only be intruding.

“Pat? Breathe for me?” He requests so gently. Patton nods, recognizing the voice, he watches as Logan approaches him. “You're okay” He assures, Patton loosens but keeps alert. He meets Patton face to face, taking his shaking hands in his own. “Come here” Once Patton eases into Logans hold,  his flinching gone, the lawyer leads him to the couch, wrapping a soft blanket around him.

“Ill go to the couch” Logan concludes, he sits up taking Pattons hands as they face each other.

“Adorable, come on lay back down, Ill get you some tea” Patton offers, Logan hums in satisfaction. He returns to find Logan struggling to keep his eyes open.

He feels safe once more, the familiar feeling returns. Patton remains, squeezing deep into his palms, feeling the pressure of his nails. Logan acts quickly, making a calming tea as he hands it to Patton, sitting in front of the man. Patton sighs, feeling his face heat up. Logan strokes away any loose hairs, covering Patton's shining eyes.

Once the tea is placed Patton situates himself on the other side of the bed, checking his phone before he shuts it off. He feels the bed move ever so slightly as Logan adjusts, his arm meeting Pattons in his deep slumber.  The lawyer waits for his typical reaction, for the deep panic to emerge, the whimpers of desperation, yet it never came. As Logan wrapped his arm around Patton, pulling him closer to his chest, nuzzling as he kissed Pattons neck. The lawyer felt nothing but safe.

“Goodnight love” Logan mumbles, a hot flutter as Patton instantly falls into the name.

“Im sorry” Patton bites his lower lip, Logan releases a sweet chuckle.

“You have nothing to apologize for, really” Logan promises, taking Pattons free hand in his own, the father bites his lip scared to object. Hoping to stop the lawyer from digging any further.  “Was that...something left over?” He hints, Patton averts his sullen gaze.

“I guess, Im sorry” He goes again, feeling stupid as Logan treads around him. Logan leans forward, kissing him softly on the forehead, keeping his protective hold on Patton. “You should go, I'm so sorry” He rambles.

“Patton enough apologizing” Logan begs, trying to keep his worrisome voice under control. Patton shakes his tired head, his eyes barely flinting.

“I'm a mess, you shouldn't have to deal with me” he pouts, rubbing away the gentle tears that begin flowing. Pathetic. You got emotional… “You should go, I am so sorry” He blubbers, every decent or controlling instinct floods away with exhaustion. “You'll get bored, and then you'll resent me and-” He chokes back a sob

“Patton what-”

“I'm afraid I'm not enough for you!” He blurts, his arms squeezing tightly to his chest as they fold over his heart. And there he was, a timid child, so desperate yet so undeserving of validation. Logan falls silent, not sure whether he holds a right to reach out.

“Not enough?” He barely breathes “You are more than enough, you are everything” He takes Patton's cheek. “I think you're just tired, maybe we need to talk about boundaries”

“Boundaries?” Patton tilts his head, Logan bites back a saddened expression, the concept so foreign to the father. He pushes through nodding.

“Yes, for example, when I get rather upset or frustrated I prefer to be left alone” He tells, Patton notes this keeping it locked in his mind. “Now you” Patton raise a brow, furled in confusion as he tries hard to think.

“I...I dont…” He fights to conjure something, to simply please Logan. He slumps his shoulders, resigning his efforts. An overwhelming pit of guilt forming in Pattons stomach but soon his mind clears. He’s not doing this to please Logan, this is for him “I want-” Logan raise his brow “I need you to be patient with me” He states, Logan bites back a proud smile

“Patience, I can do that” Logan agrees, he knows that it doesn't matter but a simple affirmation goes a long way. “What else?” Pattons never gotten this far

“I need you to tell me what you're doing.” Patton continues, though confused Logan nods. He notices the couch begin to shake, Pattons leg taps rhymically.

“Explain” Logan regains his attention

“I need- I just...I want to know what's going to happen.” He attempts to clarify his silly thoughts “If you're going to hug me, tell me. If you're going to hold my hand, let me know. If you're going-” He shakes his head “I just need to know whats going to happen” Patton pleads, not that his partner needs much convincing “It won't always be like that, just, for now...I need to know”

“And that makes perfect sense. You can tell me if you feel the need to but I dont require the same courtesy” Logan assures, Patton finds his honesty comforting “I need there to be space” He adds. Patton waits, playing with the loose strings from his blanket. “I don't want to be coddled or cared for every hour of every day” Somehow they both ease into the room, the warmth returning as it becomes their home, their place. “I need there to be communication, I'm going to take your hand now” He smiles, Patton allows him to do so, grateful for the genuine effort. “I need you to inform me as to what's going on in your head, how you are feeling” He rushes the next part “I know it may take time, but I hope you can try, slowly” A comfortable silence takes place, the pair listen to the morning world as each aspect awakes for the day. Playful fiddling takes place between them, a routine so easy, so familiar, they could perform it should they choose. A storm Logan think has passed, no forming a rainbow in its own time, finds one last raincloud.

“I need to be allowed to… be” Patton barely utters the last word. Logan jerks his head back towards him, watching as the light sparkle of blue averts its gaze. Fearing his own temperament, knowing where this stems, Logan maintains a calm demeanor. “I need to be allowed to be emotional, to feel, to be excited-” He stops his rants, catching a crisp breath. “I need to be me” He realizes, a discovery it seems more for himself, his eyes widening only slightly.

“Patton, I can promise you, under no circumstance will I ever stop or discourage you from being you” He squeezes the mans nervous hands. “You shall never feel that way again, If I can help it.” He takes a sharp but deepened breath. Patton leans forward, connecting their lips of promises and a new hope for them. “I need you to bring me coffee every morning” Logan jokes

“Nice try, love you though” Patton teases leaning forward, an excitement to say the phrase so true and so deep, taking his chin as he kisses him once more. It felt nice, to have it simply happen with no resistance, no feeling of obligation. “Breakfast time” He stands, taking their empty glasses to the kitchen. The even rush of water clearing his scrambled mind. Scrambled...scrambled eggs, he prepares the recipe in his mind.

“Mmm” He hums, pleasant as the calm morning happens. “Oh I hear children” He notes, sweet feet scatter towards him. “Good morning Remus” Logan greets, Valerie rushes by making her way to her father. Remus wastes no time securing himself in Logan's arms.

“Are you my dada now?” He exclaims through a yawn, Logan freezes as Patton drops a shattered glass. Logan jumps up instantly, tightening his hold on Remus.

“Angelface stay back!” Patton rushes, Valerie stops in her tracks, her wide eyes staring curiously. “Lo?” He asks, Logan nods taking Valerie away from the kitchen. Once the danger is cleared away, and a hushed conversation between the lawyers takes place, they sit the twins down on the couch. “Good morning my gems”

“Good morning papa!” They both greet with delighted smiles. Logan watches, trying hard not to let his smile grow. Patton laughs, stroking their messy hair.

“You had a question crabcake, care to explain?” Patton jumps right in, his son buzzing back. Logan fiddles with Valerie's excited feet, he's not sure why but neither seem bothered.

“Because he's my dada now!” Remus giggles “You love him, I love him and he loves me and you which means we’re family! Does that mean hes my dada now?” Remus decides, Patton looks up hoping a threatening flood will stop. Patton sighs, finding it much too early to watch Remus and Valeries hopes dim. ”You always say that love makes a family, no matter what” He grins, his toothy grin melting Patton.

But why should they?

Why should Patton say no?

Because of Logan, this isn't up to him, this is more than just about him

“Oh Remus, I-”

“You're absolutely correct Remus” Logan chimes in, Patton turns to him. “We are family now” He amuses the young boy. Patton takes his cheek kissing him, nodding through the most fragile of tears.

“Fam-ily!” Valerie cheers “I love you” She giggles, squeezing tightly to the two lawyers. Remus joins in soon after both run off to the backyard, to play in the remains of the dewey morning. The pair stand moving to the kitchen, facing each other once more.

“You didn't have to say all that Lo” Patton thanks, fiddling with Logans gentle fingers. “I know we haven't really had a moment to talk about...what all this means. I'm sorry if that put you in an uncomfortable position” Patton breathes

“Love, we can talk about this later, no reason to put them down on this fine morning” Neither phased by the adoring name, Patton finding it quite common really. “In addition, I am not uncomfortable” Logan assures, he kisses Patton's cheek, leaving a very flustered Patton to fall back into his blushed routine.

~~~

“My idea of a perfect family isn't marrying a woman!” Patton argues, Logan cocks his head as he closes the door into Patton's office. The lawyer waves to Logan, frustrated as he paces back and forth. “My children mom! My beautiful twins, the man I love and my friends! That's my family!” He shouts, Logan debates whether he should be upset or if his heart shall beat faster “Mother! Do not come down here!” He scoffs, angrily hanging up the phone, clutching the chair.

“How's your day going love?” Logan jokes, Patton rolls his eyes playfully.

“Haha very funny” Patton purses his lips, Logan smirks at him, flipping through some loose files upon the table. The door creaks open, a sweet assistant peeking her head through. “Whats up Willow?” Patton inquires

“Uhm, I-” She fidgets, her face heating up quickly. Logan adjusts to look at her. “Miss Bernard would like to speak to mister Tolentino” She swallows, Logan stands cautious but looks to Patton first. Both prepared to rejoin in the hallway but it seems the young lawyer has her own plans. She steps in, taking a grim look around.

“Thank you Willow” She looks to the assistant, was that a hint of mockery?

“Thank you Willow” Willow repeats clearly deriding her words, both sharing a solid glance before the assistant removes herself, bored of the high and mighty. An amused glance is shared between the men but Diana carries on.

“What can I do for you Diana?” Patton inquires with a smile, fully aware of her intent to question Logan. He upholds his kindness, knowing things don't have to be strictly business.

“Must you be so nice” She jokes, her relief setting in “Unfortunately Patton Im here to talk to mister Tolentino. Seeing as he was-”

“Your predecessor on the case?” Logan finishes, interjecting with his formulated words. Diana nods in agreement. “Makes sense to me, would you care to follow me to my office?” He stands, dusting off his prim outfit. She smiles uneasy, finding his presence less comforting then the shining one of Patton. Logan turns to Patton, leaning over the desk to kiss him sweetly on his soft cheek. “Dinner?”

“Dinner” Patton concludes, returning his focus to his work as the two lawyers leave him.

Diana walks silently alongside Logan, skipping through the marbled halls, playing her own game. The lawyers find no qualms but no connection, simply they are, as two isolating figures.

“Owo we have to set boundaries!! Oh Patttttooooonnnnn” Roman mocks in the utmost nasally voice he can conjure. Logan sighs as they continue walking. Roman joins their journey, skipping delighted.

“I'm going to slap you” He threatens, Roman laughs, shaking his head.

“Do it coward, I dare you” The judge challenges, Logan stops them in their path. Staring right into the previously fiery eyes, now filled with an amber fear. “You should know Patton tells me everything”

“Not to be made fun of I presume?” Logan contradicts, Roman rolls his eyes nudging the lawyer. “That's what I thought” He holds his head up high

“Dude, i'm just screwing with you, I think its good” Roman assures, Diana hums softly on her end. Finding no place in this conversation she skims her files. “Miss Bernard” Roman greets

“Your honor” She breathes, a hint of annoyance. The two actually present themselves quite similarly, Logan notices. “Mister Tolentino I hate to interrupt but I do have a lot of work to get to-”

“Yes, I understand, apologies” Logan laments, turning to a gazing Roman “Roman, I will talk to you later” He nods, the judge walks away seemingly joining an idle James by the fountain.  A sweet kiss shared between them, Logan raises an eyebrow but continues walking. Once they've reached his office, the shift in temperature hits the young lawyer quickly. A chill runs down her spine, tensing it as Logan barely glances her way. “Please, do sit” He offers, however his tone commands. But she does, and soon they face off yet seemingly on the same team.

~~~

“City councilman?” Patton breathes softly into the phone. He listens, though silent, his mind practically stretches with his thoughts. He walks through the crowded halls, frantic as he packs away his things. “No I mean..Im..I need to-” Cut off by more opportunities and new journeys, he smiles at a patient Logan who waits by reception. “yes , no Leo I understand-” He bites his lower lip, shaking his head “Got it, thanks”

“Everything alright?” Logan checks, taking his hand as he approaches. Feeling his anxieties wash away, dripping to the floor, feeling safe in Logan's touch. He leans in kissing his cheek, the softest of skin.

“Yeah, let's get to dinner” He pushes the other things out of his mind, watching his worries and questions seep away, himself leaning into the security of Logans gentle, curious smile. It doesn't take too long, besides the constant checking in with Virgil and the twins the ride itself is peaceful. The lawyers find themselves settled into the restaurant fast enough.

“I think it would be in our best interest to get right into business, as to enjoy the dinner once we have concluded our discussion” Logan advises, tapping the table. Patton sets down his water nodding.

“I couldn't agree more” Patton traces the brim, listening to the faintest hum from the glass. “So…” He drags it out, Logan smirks under the dimmest of lights.

“The kids” Patton states

“Yes you have them” Logan replies, knowing his words were silly. He was nervous, he wasn’t sure how to approach this, how to express a certain desire he assumed would go away but stuck through. “I would like, through the course of our relationship and however that might progress, to be apart of their lives” he explains, Patton keeps his face. He loved Logan, truly, but his kids would always come first. Every person who had even the tiniest place in their lives Patton made sure that for whatever he could do that they were safe and happy. Now he knew Logan and he knew he wanted him in their lives. But that was then, that was when he knew what he would be doing, now things change. To be blunt, now he isn’t just looking at a friend and caretaker, he’s looking at someone who’s going to be around for awhile, someone who will raise and discipline and love his kids.

“A father” he whispers, realizing to himself. Logan only hears the whistle of his soft words but not the substance. “Logan I don’t doubt that, but do you understand what you’re getting into?” He wasn’t just looking out for his kids, he wanted Logan to understand. He could be jeopardizing his relationship, his everything with Logan but he’s not going to allow the man to end up with something he doesn’t want, can’t handle or doesn’t make him happy.

“I don’t think I do either” Logan admits, he leans forward “But I don’t you did when you first had them. It’s a learning process, a place to grow.” Patton goes to rebut but Logan moves fast “And that is what you have to be understanding, that is what you have to be willing to do. Wanting to do” he breathes “and I want to. I want to learn, I want to be, in the most forward of terms, a parent” Patton inhales gently, soft breath not filling his mind quickly enough. “If you’ll let me and if you want me to” he adds, reaching out a hand, ready to receive. Biting his lower lip Patton takes the hand.

“Congratulations, you’ve got the job” He jokes, though forced his voice chuckles. Something sits uneasy with him, it’s not Logan it’s simply his uncertainty. He doesn’t know where to go from here, how does one go from being a friend to someone you love, who will be around, who your kids will see and soon enough see them as more than just ‘Dads friend’. Wide eyes as the reality set in, Patton didn’t know how to do this anymore. He had been on his own for so long, through every late night, every sickness, every fight, every tantrum and every tear. He didn’t know how to share that with someone, how to let them in.

He didn’t know how to let it be a good thing

How to let his previous fears wash away and embrace that maybe someone really wants to love him and care for him, and he can do the same without the fear of obligation. Someone who wants his kids as much as he does, to sit through those nights, to snuggle as they watch movies, to help when they get too much.

He didn’t know

And that frightened him

[shockapella-sweet]

I know that sounds a bit silly, but can you write a happy drabble about Sindel. I'm sad about what they've done to her recently.

It’s not silly at all, Nonny. :) I was delighted to get the request (because I’m still mad about how Sindel was handled in MK11, and I needed to get some feels out of my system).

Sorry it took a while to write, but here it finally is, with Kitana for good measure (and a happier timeline because we all deserve one). Thanks for waiting for it, and I hope it helps in cheering you up.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

“Darling, please keep your head still.”

The small, dark-haired head beneath the older woman’s fingertips refused to obey. Bobbing her chin and swinging her legs in time to a rhythm of her own making, the little girl to whom the head belonged let out an indignant mewl as the bristles of a hairbrush scraped against her scalp. Tilting her neck back, she looked up at the woman from under long, dark lashes; her eyes – large, and a soft, citrine shade of brown – were watery with discomfort.

“That hurt, Mummy,” she whined, an exaggerated sniff following after.

Sindel resisted the urge to smile at this display of dramatics.

“If you keep your head still, Kitana, then it won’t hurt at all,” she replied, almost curt. “Brushing your hair would be much easier if you just don’t move at all.”

“But you and Papa are always telling me that moving is good,” her daughter argued, pouting. “You and Papa get cross at me when I’m not moving, but then you both get cross at me for moving anyway. Why can’t grown-ups make up their minds?”

“Well, I cannot speak for your father,” murmured Sindel, “but I can tell you, darling, that whatever words I say to you at any given time, I say them only because I care about you.”

“If you really, really care, then please leave my hair alone. It hurts when you brush it.”

Sindel raised an elegant eyebrow. “Don’t you trust your mother?”

Kitana said nothing; instead, she shook her head, before shyly tucking her chin into her chest with an audible yet slightly nervous giggle.

The corners of Sindel’s lips lifted upwards. Gently, she threaded her slender fingers through the child’s hair, the black strands looping around the pale digits like fine threads wound around needles.

“I do not ever want to hurt you … you know that, hmm?” she said.

“I know, Mummy,” was the almost muffled response.

“So will you let me finish brushing your hair? Please, Kitana?”

Several seconds passed before the girl did what her mother asked. Lifting her chin, she straightened herself in her seat, looking right ahead with those large eyes at a spot on the wall of her chambers, trying her best not to wince as the bristles threatened to brush closely against her skin. For one so small, there was a regal air about her that would befit a fully-fledged queen.

Indeed, as Sindel brushed out her hair, she thought that her daughter – who was dressed in a fine frock of blue satin, her petite and delicate hands encased in white lace gloves, and her silk-enshrouded feet covered by dainty black slippers – looked every bit like a queen should be tonight.

And what is a queen without her crowning glory? Sindel thought as she fashioned the hair into a bun atop her head. Securing it with a hair-tie, as well as a stick the colour of sapphire, she tucked an escaping lock behind her left ear.

“It is done, Kitana,” she declared, pressing a kiss to the child’s temple. “No more brushing for you tonight.”

Kitana beamed. Jumping out of her seat, and standing at the height of her mother’s knees, she looked up at the taller woman with eyes that now twinkled like gems embedded in earth.

“That didn’t hurt much this time,” she replied, grinning. “I didn’t cry out or anything!”

“What a brave girl you were,” Sindel cooed, returning her grin with one of her own. “Thank you for trusting in me.”

“I trusted you lots and lots and lots. Do you trust Papa lots, too, when he brushes your hair?”

“Not as much as I should,” her mother admitted, running a hand through her own magnificent mane. If not at all. My hair, I leave in no one’s hands but my own. “Speaking of your father, we do not want to keep him waiting. The gala is about to begin in a few minutes. He will want to see how you look before then.”

“I hope he thinks I’m beautiful,” said Kitana, practically bouncing up and down on the spot.

Taking one of those gloved hands into her own, Sindel responded:

“Trust your mother, darling – you are beautiful to us always.”

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Somewhere in the palace of a faraway realm, two women were alone together.

One was dressed in plush purple finery from her neck down to her feet, with her hair trailing down in an endless waterfall of black and grey; regality radiated from her upstanding form, but her perfectly sculpted face bore an expression that exuded a befuddling combination of warmth and concern.

She stood behind the other woman, who sat before a vanity table and was swathed in the soft, cerulean glow of a satin gown. Her thick black tresses were bound together in a neat high bun, which was secured in place with a decadent hair stick. Her features – not unlike that of the standing woman – were both round and sharp at the edges, but the sense of serenity that crossed it gave her countenance a smooth appearance. The eyes, lined with dark lashes, were as brown and lustrous as smoky quartz that had just been unearthed.

Sindel smiled, albeit unsurely.

“Are you ready, Kitana?” she asked.

Her daughter lifted her chin. Her eyes locked with Sindel’s reflection in the mirror.

“You know what the answer to that question is, Mother,” she replied, her velvety tone low.

Do I really?

The shadow of a smirk made itself known on Kitana’s lips, as if she heard the thought.

“I am more than ready,” she declared.

Sindel gently twirled an elusive strand around her finger before tucking it behind Kitana’s right ear. Her chest rose with a quiet sigh. Kitana chuckled lightly.

“Mother, you worry me when you are worried. Tell me, what else can I say to make you calm? Tell me, and I shall say them.”

Sindel tried to appear relaxed.

“Tell me that I can still brush your hair after you have wedded,” she answered.

Another chuckle, but louder.

“Oh please! Don’t you trust me, your own daughter – the reigning queen of Edenia, mind – to brush my own hair?”

The former Edenian monarch laughed with her, but soon took on a sober disposition. Staring into her daughter’s reflected eyes, she made her solemn reply:

“Darling, I trusted you when you fought to set us free from the influence of Quan Chi’s dark magic, and when you helped to liberate us from the Netherrealm. I had complete faith in you when you contested Kotal Kahn’s rule and assumed Outword’s throne. I trusted your judgement when you seceded the realms that made up Outworld’s empire, leaving them to be ruled by others – Kotal Kahn included.”

A pause. “When you took your place as Edenia’s queen – when you promised to lead and serve its people, a vow that myself, your father and many others before you swore to honour – I readily stepped aside, because my faith in you was so strong.”

Another pause, but longer than the first. Then, Sindel spoke again, her voice thick: “When Raiden’s champion asked for your hand, and you obliged him … well, what is a mother to do but trust her child? It would be a slight against the Elder Gods themselves to clip the wings of a swan, and so I abide your decision to wed this day.”

Kitana’s countenance faltered. Her eyes creased as they narrowed, taking on a damp shine.

“Oh, Mother … this marriage worries you so much?”

Sindel tilted her head, a sad smile painted upon her lips.

“No … I am more worried about who will brush your hair now. You are hopeless at it.”

Kitana blinked, before issuing a short bark of laughter. Small teardrops formed like pearls at the edges of her gaze.

“I am not so hopeless at it now, not when I had you to teach me,” she whispered.

Sindel said nothing, but the glimmer in her iridescent globes said it all.

As Kitana dabbed at her eyes, her mother turned her attention to a small, velvet pillow that lay on the table beside the hairbrush. Lying atop the pillow, looking resplendent in the light, was a circlet of platinum. With careful hands, she lifted it up, regarding it at all angles for a few moments. Then, when Kitana’s eyes were finally dry, she slowly set the circlet upon her daughter’s dark head.

Kitana started. “You don’t have to –”

“Keep your head still at once.”

The queen stopped and obeyed, staring ahead.

A queen you may be, but you are still my child.

Straightening the circlet, Sindel appraised her daughter’s reflection and nodded.

“Now you are ready,” she proclaimed. “Truly a queen and her crowning glory – Edenia has never seen a finer ruler.”

In one swift, languid movement, Kitana got up from her seat and stood before her realm’s former sovereign, matching her in height. Nary a ripple was seen as she moved, for her gown hugged every inch of her lithe figure. Dipping her head, she looked up at Sindel from under her lashes.

“Liu Kang and I will make sure to stand by the ideals that you and father had set,” she intoned. “All that I do, I do so to honour you and … and Papa.”

The hesitation was not lost on Sindel, who took hold of Kitana’s wrists, pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When she pulled back, her face shone with pride and fondness.

“I know, Kitana. Jerrod knows you do, too, and wherever his soul resides, he remains proud of you. But whatever the path you choose to take from this day forth, be assured that you are doing right by us, doing right by your people, and most importantly, doing right by yourself, no matter what.”

Kitana dipped her head again, the elusive strand brushing against her jawline.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Sindel reached out towards the strand, but at the last second let her hand fall to her side. She grinned.

“My beautiful queen. Your father would have dropped to his knees and thanked the Elder Gods for giving him a wonderful daughter if he were here to see you now on this special day.”

Kitana giggled. “You think so?”

Sindel nodded.

“Trust your mother, darling.”

With that, she took Kitana’s hand into her own, gave it a gentle squeeze, and led her out of the chambers towards a future free of uncertainty, full of promise, and as everlasting as the light of a thousand burning suns.

And for their child, a mother could not ask for anything more.

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Five | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 3,686

Chapter 5/24

Warnings: Moments of angst, allusions to PTSD, PTSD episode and symptoms

AN: Y’all have been teased enough. The moment is finally here and I was tingly all over writing this chapter. Lemme know your thoughts! My inbox is always open for squealing. Sorry for the dip into angst, but this is where the story is taking me. As always, thank you to each and every one of you who is reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging. You’re making this journey so much fun for me. Enjoy. 💖

*Sidenote: I’ll be posting on Thursday nights from here on out, for a lot of

Chapter Four

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

Seven o’clock on the dot Saturday night you climb the stairs of the familiar subway stop. The hustle and bustle of the city’s nightlife fills your ears as your feet hit the pavement - your mind echoes a similar frenzy. You’d read Bucky’s note a thousand times, had spent all day Friday debating whether or not to go on this date. Every time you made up your mind to stay home, his face interrupted those thoughts. You relived the butterflies you felt when you shared your name with him on the windowpane. You saw his cheeky smirk as he complimented you. You smile at the image of him flipping Anderson’s office the bird. Him laughing when you had done it the first time. A laugh you discovered you were desperate to hear. There was something about this man that drew you like a damn magnet.

Passing your work building, the anticipation you’ve been keeping at bay all day threatens to break free. Your roommate hadn’t helped matters.

Debbie asked a million questions while placing tidy rolls in your hair. This guy is a window washer? And he snuck into your work and left you a note? You’ve never even had a real conversation with him? How do you know he’s not a weirdo? Do you have any mutual friends? What kind of a name is Bucky? What’s his last name? Where are you meeting him? Do you want me to follow you to make sure you’re safe?

You’d sighed deeply, making a mentally note to learn how to do your own hair as soon as possible. Yes, he’s a window washer. He didn’t sneak in, he spoke with the office manager. We’ve had conversations, just nonverbal ones. Honestly I don’t know that he’s not a weirdo, that’s why I’m going on a first date. No mutual friends. It’s probably a nickname or his parents are just that creative. Don’t know his last name, I’ll find out tonight. It’s a restaurant right down the street from work. No, Debbie, I do not want you to follow me, relax.

Doing your best to weave your way through the heavy foot-traffic, you catch a glimpse of Bucky standing in front of the restaurant. The nerves crawl their way into your throat and for a second you consider turning around to go home. You’d never officially given him confirmation that you’d be here; he’d trusted that you’d see the note and show up if you wanted to, right? But then you hear Suzy in the back of your mind - What’ve you got to lose?

Taking a deep breath you wave to Bucky over the crowd, catching his attention. Turning, a relieved yet humble smile looks out of place compared to his handsome suit. He was taller than you’d guessed - you suspected at one time he’d stood more confidently. He had also shaved, which only accentuated that razor-sharp jawline.

Each step forward your heart rate reaches a new level. Each step it registers exactly what you’re doing and who you’re with. Each step carries a weight you feel but don’t quite understand.

Finally you are toe-to-toe with each other, no glass between you.

“Hey there,” a smooth voice greets you.

That voice. That voice washes over you, taking your nerves and untangling them, soothing them, washing them out through your toes that are curling in your shoes. At the same time that voice hits you like a brick wall, stealing your breath, stunning you temporarily. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Hi,” you return, a little breathlessly.

“Everything okay?” His smile drops immediately, apprehension evident.

“Yeah, yes, everything’s great. I just. . .” you pause, thinking to yourself that your admission could be a very strange start to this date. “I just realized this is the first time I’ve heard your voice.”

Bucky’s shoulders relax slightly, a nervous grin back on his face. “I was thinking the same thing. Crazy to think this is the first actual conversation we’ve had.” You nod eagerly in agreement and hold his gaze for a few more seconds before both of you become aware that you are standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other. “Um, shall we?” Bucky asks, opening the door to the restaurant for you.

A posh atmosphere was not what you expected to walk into. But here you were among fine china and luscious flower arrangements everywhere. You find yourself admiring the chandeliers and eyeing the well-dressed patrons as Bucky approaches the maître d'.

“Reservation for Barnes.”

Bucky Barnes, huh? Catchy.

“Oh, Mr. Barnes. Mr. Dugan called ahead and had a table specially prepared for you.”

“Uh, he did? That’s really not necessary.” Bucky sounds surprised, embarrassed even.

“Oh, we insist. He is an old family friend. This way, please.”

“Friends in high places, huh?” you whisper over your shoulder as Bucky trails behind you and the hostess.

“More like nosey friends in mediocre places,” he grumbles under his breath.

While it felt extremely high-class, the atmosphere was quiet: conversations were kept at a low volume almost like there was a reverence in the room. With an extraordinarily decadent table reserved in a corner you are seated in no time, which leaves the pair of you sitting idly, twirling thumbs and picking at nails after you’d read through the menu.

“So-”

“How-”

You both stop.

“I’m so-

“You go-”

Nervous energy in the form of laughter bubbles out of both of you.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky leans his elbows against the table, “I haven’t been on a date in a while. I guess I’m a little rusty.”

“It’s been a long time for me too,” you confess.

He takes a deep breath, finally making eye contact. “Okay, we’ll start simple. Where ya from?”

“Tarrytown, about 30 miles north of here. You?”

“Brooklyn, born and raised.”

You’re briefly interrupted by the waiter who promptly takes your order and leaves you to your devices.

“Alright, I have a question for you, Bucky.”

“I’m all yours.”

“My roommate made me promise to ask you about your name.”

He chuckles as he settles his napkin in his lap. “Figured that was coming.”

“So what’s the story?”

“It’s not very exciting. There were a million other James’ at school and my middle name is. . . Buchanan.” You cover your mouth with your fist, doing your best to stifle a giggle. “I know, I know, I don’t know what they were thinking either. I still ask Dad if he was drunk when I was born - he never finds it as funny as I do. And obviously you can’t go around calling a toddler Buchanan, so Bucky it was.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you tested out. “It suits you.” A smile spreads across his face, a contagious one. Clearing your throat and shifting in your seat you say, “Alright, your turn for a question, Barnes.”

“What, I don’t get to hear about your name?”

“Nope. Try again.”

“Okay, then. Where’d you come from before this job?”

“I worked for Chevrolet during the war. There was a massive demand at the factory in my hometown. I signed up, much to my mother’s disappointment, but I was good at what I did. Worked on engines, learned a lot about combat vehicles. Even got promoted a few times, ended up being the foreman of my department.”

What could only be described as awe flashes through Bucky’s eyes. “That’s incredible. Why didn’t you stay?”

“Well. . .” you bit your lip, picking your words carefully. “The war ended. Men came back expecting to pick up where they left off. A majority of the women were relieved - it was tough work. But I truly enjoyed it. One day my supervisor called me into his office and informed me of the date my predecessor was returning, insinuating that would be my last day. I looked him straight in the eye and told him I would happily take the returning soldier on as a member of my crew.”

Bucky’s brow arches, smirk curling his lips. “And then?”

“And then several executives met with me and tried to persuade me to leave. Said my pretty face didn’t belong in a factory all day, that the work was too hard. Even though I’d been doing it for years without a problem when they needed labor. I mentioned the New York Times would surely be interested in hearing my story about them breaching a contract to counteract their post-war media praise.

“They scrambled and offered me the corporate job to try to smooth things over. But it was clear that I was not welcome to stay. They paid to move me into the city a few weeks ago.” You shrug, “I never wanted to be a career typist, but I’m not sure what else is out there for me to do. I don’t want to teach, I don’t want to just be a housewife. At least I can do this job well.”

Bucky nods, appearing to be lost in thought.

During your chatter, you’ve barely noticed the food that had appeared in front of you. You found comfort in how Bucky seemed to be paying much more attention to you than his plate as well.

“Although my job is a cakewalk compared to your normal routine, I’m sure,” you continue.

“Nah, I think you’ve got it worse. Being stuck in a tie in an office heading into a New York summer? I’m much happier outside where I can catch some wind.”

“Even though it’s kinda hazardous?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bucky shakes his head as he takes a bite of food.

“But you’re. . . . you’re so high up, can’t that be nerve-wracking?”

“It’s not as dangerous as you think.”

You’re sure the face you pull is overly dramatic, but his nonchalance is almost unnerving. “Are you kidding? You almost died on my first day of work!”

“What do you mean?”

You give Bucky an incredulous look. “Do you not remember falling from the roof? It looked like part of your harness had either slipped or wasn’t secured or something like that. You caught yourself on the ledge of a window on my floor.” Bucky still looks lost. “You don’t remember giving me a thumbs up and disappearing?”

Much to your astonishment, Bucky throws his head back and laughs. “Oh that? Trust me, I’ve been in worse situations.”

Your jaw drops, brows drawing together. Somehow Bucky laughs harder. (You had been right, that laugh was worth hearing.) “You can’t be serious.”

“It reminded me of a particularly hairy day but my best friend managed to pull me out. If I survived the war, I feel like I could survive anything at this point. Including the knuckleheads I work with.” His tone shifts away from mirth. “I’m sorry if they were rude to you that day. They’re ignorant kids who think they know everything.”

“For a second I thought you might turn out to be a knucklehead too.”

He winces. “They were that bad, huh?”

“They were. . .” you pause to search for the right word, “boys.”

“Yeah, they got some growing up to do.”

Your waiter places your bill on the table, wishing you a good night. But then your hand bumps into Bucky’s as you both lay hands on the slip of paper.

“No, no, no,” you tut, “this is on me.” With firmness you slide the bill to your side of the table.

“Nuh-huh, Sixth Floor, this was my idea.” He pulls the bill back to his side.

“And you wouldn’t be paying for a meal if I hadn’t shown up,” with one more slip in your direction.

“How about this,” Bucky proposes, sliding the bill from beneath your fingers, “I got this one. Ma would kill me if she found out I didn’t pay for a first date, so really, you’re doin’ me a favor. I’ll split it with you next time. Deal?”

Next time.  

“Deal,” you agree, looking down to hide your goofy smile.

Once the bill is settled, you stay in your seats for nearly an hour while the conversation continues to flow. Topics move from family, to childhood stories - in which most of his involve a guy named Steve - before somehow coming back around to work.

“So, what brought you to window washing?”

“Family friend wanting to help a veteran out. It’s not want I want to do forever, but it hasn’t been awful while I’m getting back on my feet.” He twists his dirty napkin between his fingers. You try to steer the conversation away from serious territory.

“What, not looking to fast-track your career to wash the Empire State Building’s windows?”

Several things happen before Bucky has the chance to answer that question.

Out of the corner of your eye you spy a busboy carrying an entire tray of glassware. The tray is piled high, he’s unsteady, shaking, clearly new at his job. A waiter rounds the corner out of the kitchen, barreling straight into the busboy.

The relatively quiet ambience of the restaurant is shattered as glasses, plates, bowls, and the like smash into the floor. Shards of glass explode across the restaurant, a deafening roar shocking most of the patrons out of their discussions.

Bucky is on his feet, chair overturning with his sudden movement. His eyes dart between the restaurants’ two obvious exits, head swiveling around in search of something else. Reaching behind his back, his fingers grab at air.

You had been fairly certain he had served - how many men his age hadn’t? - but you weren’t going to broach the subject unless he did first. His posture took you back to several memories of your uncle after he’d come back from World War I. He had lived with your family for a few years after being discharged because of his condition. You were barely a toddler but could remember the lamp in the living room shining on in the night, your uncle being awake at all hours. When a door was slammed or a radio squealed because it lost its frequency, he’d freeze at first. Sometimes he screamed, sometimes he swung a fist at thin air. Your mother always ushered you to another room, telling you he’d be okay in a moment.

Shell-shock, she’d called it. It had a hundred other names: war neuroses, battle fatigue, combat exhaustion, railway spine, soldier’s heart, combat stress reaction, nostalgia. But it was all the same thing. The panic, the sadness, the agitation, the flashbacks, the insomnia. Too many people believed it wasn’t real. Generals and doctors alike insisted it was faked, an excuse to be treated and discharged. But you had seen the fear in your uncle’s eyes, the same fear Bucky was fighting right now.

It’s in that small instant that it dawns on you - what Bucky must have seen in his time overseas. He may smile and appear easygoing. But beneath that veneer was a survivor. Someone who has experienced unspeakable horror, who has lost things he could never get back. You wonder what point in time he’s taken back to; what he’s seeing, what he’s trying to escape from.

But then Bucky blinks a few times, hands clenching into fists at his side while he attempts to gain control of his shallow breathing. It’s over in a moment, but doesn’t escape your notice. His behavior stands out to no one but you - several people had stood up to help clean the mess, busboys were scattering everywhere to pick up shards.

You stand as well, drawing Bucky’s attention. “Wanna walk me home?”

He only nods, following you out of the restaurant. The pair of you walk in silence for a few blocks, your feet leading you home out of habit.

Your mind races. What can I do for him? Should I ask him about it? Do I pretend it didn’t happen? Should I talk first or let him say something? I’ll keep quiet for a bit. . . Okay I can’t handle walking around New York in dead silence.

“So, what do you want to do?”

He turns to you with a confused expression, obviously being dragged away from a memory. “Sorry, what?”

“You said you didn’t want to wash windows forever. What do you want to do?”

“Umm. . . I dunno.” He scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly before shoving his hands in his pockets. “I applied for my benefits from the G.I. Bill a few months ago. I’m still waiting to hear back from the VA. They’re all kinds of busy, though. If they come through, maybe I could go back to school or get trained in something specific. . . no matter how much I think about it, I can’t come up with a good answer.”

“Well, you’ve still got time to think about it.”

“I’ve got lots of time. Somehow that’s not as comforting as it should be.”

You hum in thought. “A salesman? Seems like you could be a sweet-talker.”

You get an eye-roll and a sarcastic “Ha ha,” as a response.

“An accountant?”

“Nah,” he scrunches his nose, “too much time inside.”

“That’s fair. . . a teacher?”

“I don’t think schools would want me around kids with my war experience.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Someone who has seen the very worst of humanity would be well-equipped to deal with teenagers.” You both chuckle as Bucky admits that you may be right.

“I had always thought about doing something with my hands. Ma was always getting onto me n’ Steve for taking apart the toaster to see how it worked.”

“Bless your poor mother’s soul.”

“Hey, we could always put it back together,” you raise an eyebrow at him, “. . . most times.”

“Ah, the truth comes out,” you tease. This time the silence is more comfortable, less tense. You make it a few more blocks side-by-side, your arm brushing his every once in a while.

“Have you ever thought about working on cars?”

His looks down at you. “Can’t say that I have. I’ve never owned a car in my life, let alone worked on one. Don’t exactly need one when living in Brooklyn. The most driving experience I have is in war zones.”

“Before I left the factory, rumor was that they’re going to start making bigger cars to cater to families. That means bigger engines, which means a host of problems the factories won’t anticipate when they try to adapt the smaller engine. Cars will be popular, therefore cheaper, which might create a booming market in the next few years.”

“Huh.” He looks forward again, mulling on the idea.

“You don’t have to wear a tie, won’t be stuck inside, have minimal interactions with customers.”

“That’s not a bad thought.”

“Could be interesting to think about. If you think that’d make you happy of course,” you amend. “There’s no point in getting roped into a job you hate after surviving a war.”

“Hadn’t thought about it that way. I’ve been thinking more on surviving than being happy.”

“Thankfully that’s not something you really have to do anymore.”

Your eyes meet again, a revelation blooming in his. “Yeah, you’re right,” he breathes.

“I, uh. . . if it sounds like something you’d want to pursue. . . I’d be happy to teach you what I know. Let you get a feel for what it’d be like.” Immediately you regret what you’ve said - your mother would be horrified at how forward you were being.

Bucky stops walking which only makes you nervous as you stop with him.

“You mean it?” He doesn’t look displeased, rather earnest, actually.

You hum affirmatively. “An old friend from Terryville owns a garage in Queens. I’m sure he’d be okay with us stopping by and tinkering sometime next weekend. I can call him and check in the morning.”

“Okay, uh. . . yeah. Let’s do it.”

“Okay.” Once again, you are staring at each other in the middle of the sidewalk. You had a hard time grasping the fact that this twinkle in his eyes was new - surely that wasn’t because of you. . . right?

You start walking again, hoping you were right that your friend would let you and Bucky visit the garage. And you hope you could deliver on your promise to teach him. But that was a worry for another day.

“Well, this is me,” you come to a stop in front of your apartment building, circling to face Bucky.

“Oh, already? Uh. . .”

Shoot. I didn’t prepare for the end of a first date. It went by so fast, I didn’t have time to think about it. Oh jeeze, does he initiate a second date? Do I? If he even wants to see me again? Oh no, what if he tries to kiss me - I haven’t kissed someone in so long. Has it changed? How the f-

He says your name and you try to emerge from the fog of your frazzled inner dialogue. “I, uh, this was-um.” He shakes his head before blowing out a breath. “Thank you. . . for tonight. I uh, I really enjoyed myself.”

“I did too,” you return, hoping to bolster his confidence.

“Can I see you again?” he asks sheepishly, head turned down, eyes peeking up through sinfully dark lashes. “Before this weekend in the garage?”

Without a second’s thought you reply, “I would really like that, Bucky.”

A grin replaces the embarrassment, his posture already shifting. “You doing anything tomorrow night?” You shake your head. “Meet ya right here around six? I’m sure we can find something to do in the neighborhood.”

You can only manage a small nod, not trusting your voice to hide your emotions. Bucky takes the smallest of steps toward you, moving slow as if not to spook you.

Your eyes are so riveted to his that feeling his fingertips against yours startles you at first. You relax, warmth spreading through your stomach as he grabs your hand. Gently, he kisses the back of it, just long enough to be amorous.

“See you soon,” he murmurs against your skin. Goosebumps ripple up your arm before he lowers your hand and backs away, seeming loathe to turn around.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you croak.

“Goodnight, Sixth Floor.”

Chapter Six

Tags:

@abovethesmokestacks @barnesrogersvstheworld @ursulaismymiddlename @connorshero @moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @wildsageleon @promarvelfangirl @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @just-add-butter @usernamemingmei @the-canary @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @hiddles-rose @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @handfulof-roses @bloatedandlonly @barnestruck @itsbuckysworld @captainsbuck @writemarvelousthings @havanaangel @animeflower26 @igotkatiepowers @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfiction @fangirlfictionmain

[screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms]

A New Life

AN: I got this request a while ago from @wegingerangelica and I finally did it! I am so sorry it took me so long!

Here is the request:

I have never read where Loki, The God of Mischief, delivers a baby! Could you do one where the pregnant reader gets snowed in, goes into labor and Loki becomes sweet, caring and skillfully delivers the baby?

I hope you like it.

(Y/N POV)

It was mid-February, the air had a crisp coolness to it as I sat on the deck of the small cabin my husband, Loki and I shared in the woods. I rubbed my swollen stomach as I sat on a wooden chair and looked out into the forest. Loki and I had known each other for five years and had been married for two of those, and after being married for a little over a year, we were expecting our first child.

Loki was ecstatic about the news when I told him, after years he was finally going to be a father. On occasion he would be worried about being a father, he was scared that the child would hate him or he would be a bad father like Odin was to him. I reassured him time and time again that he was going to be an amazing father to our child once it arrived.

"Hello, love," I heard a silky voice say as I felt two hands on my shoulders. "How is the best mother and child in the world doing?"

I chuckled softly as Loki kissed the top of my head.

"We are doing great," I said looking down at my belly with a smile. "Although, this little bean was being a little restless earlier. I think they want to come out soon."

"Well," Loki began as he stepped in front of me and kneeled down and took my hands into his larger ones. "You are dew in two weeks."

"I know, Loki," I said as I cupped his face with my hand. "And I could not be happier about bringing our little bundle of joy into the world."

*Time Skip Three Days*

(Loki's POV)

It had been snowing all day and there was now a thick white blanket covering everything to be seen around us out the window.

Y/N and I were curled up on the couch next to the fireplace. She had her head on my shoulder as I read to her. I ran my fingers through her soft hair and took in her sent, just enjoying the moment. Then I hear her groan and shift slightly.

"You alright, love?" I asked her softly.

"I...I think so," She stuttered and groaned again. "It's just the baby getting restless."

I looked at her, worry evident on my face, but she only smiled back.

"It's alright, sweetheart," She said as she nuzzled into my chest. "I'm alright. How about we shower and get ready for bed?"

"Sounds good," I said still a bit on edge. "Just promises me that if something changes you let me know."

"I will," She said, quickly giving me and kiss as I helped her stand up. "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

"For this," She said softly. "For loving me, for being there for me, and for this new life we have created together."

"Oh, my love," I said looking into her Y/E/C eyes with mine with so much love. "Thank you."

*Time Skip*

(Y/N POV)

I had just gotten out of the shower and slipped into some loose clothes, and walked into the bedroom. Loki was sitting with his back against the headboard, reading a book and when I walked in, he looked up at me and smiled.

"Hello, darling," He with a warm smile as I sat down next to him on the bed. "Would you like me to read to you?"

"Yes please," I said snuggling into the warm blankets. "You know I love nothing more."

Loki continued to read his book out loud, his silky-smooth voice lulling me to sleep. Right before I fell asleep, I felt a sharp pain in my lower body, and I sat up quickly. Loki looked at me, his eyes full of concern.

"Y/N!" Loki said surprised. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," I said and I felt another wave of pain, causing me to lay back down and let out a few pained whimpers. Then I felt a wetness between my legs. "I.... I think my water just broke!"

"Oh gods," Loki said, and I could tell he was terrified. "Alright, love. Don't panic, I am right here, you can do this."

"Loki," I said in between painful screams. "I don't know if I can. We never..... Never talked about if the... If the baby was born at home. I'm... I'm scared."

"Everything will be fine," Loki as he was quickly gathering things from around the room to help with the birth. "Just focus on your breathing and bringing our little bundle of joy into the world. It's going to be alright."

For the next few hours, Loki was at my said, helping me the best he could. He would use his magic to dull the pain a bit, but even then, it was the most painful thing I had ever felt. Loki was so tender throughout the whole thing, letting squeeze his had so tight that I was worried that it would break.

Finally, after five long hours of screaming, pushing, and words of encouragement for Loki, I could hear the sounds of a baby crying. The pain slowly began to fade, and when I opened my eyes, I cried at the sight.

Loki was looking down at the small baby in his arms with so much love, it warmed my heart. I could see that our baby's skin was a light shade of blue, and knew that it was part Frost Giant like its father, but that didn't bother me at all. The way our baby wrapped its small blue fingers around one of Loki's made me smile. Where our baby was holding his finger, I could see Loki's had turned blue as well, letting part of his true self show.

"She's beautiful, Y/N," Loki said setting down on the bed next to me. "You did so well. I am so proud of you."

"We have a daughter," I said looking at the baby in Loki's arms. "We have a daughter, Loki. We made this new life together."

Loki smiled down at our daughter and handed her to me.

Once I held her in my arms, I knew I would do anything for her. I didn't know that I could love something so much, but at that moment, the only things that mattered to me were Loki and our daughter.

"What shall we name her?" Loki asked after placing a soft kiss to my lips.

I looked down at her and saw a perfect mix of Loki and I in her, while she also had things that made her unique. I could already tell that she would have magic, just like both of her parents.

"What about Titania?" I asked almost to myself, too caught up in looking at our daughter to really focus on anything else.

"Queen of the fairies," Loki said with a smile looking down at our newborn daughter. "I quite like that." Loki and I smiled at each other and then looked down at Titania in wonder. "Hello, Titania. I'm your father, and the beautiful woman holding you is your mother."

She squirmed a bit and made soft cooing noises that warmed my heart. This moment was perfect. Nothing else matters as long as Loki and I had each other and our new angel Titania.

Taglist: @theoneanna @mybabydrivesa67impala @lokislittleslut @camu-winchester @jessiejunebug @fandomnerdsarecool @narvelc00kie35 @kinghiddlestonanddixon @darkprincessloki92 @namelesslosers @turniptitaness @drakesfiance @wegingerangelica @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @imasultforlokiandspencerreid @vethrvolnir @scorpionchild81 @fire-in-her-veinz  @dumbgopher1 @lokislittleslut @justagirl6sstuff

Let me know if you want to be tagged or have a request!

[starksinthenorth]

With All Her Heart

Pairing: Jon/Sansa/Dany Rating: G Part: 1/1

Also available on AO3.

Sansa wakes as her wife’s arm tenses around her waist and thunder rattles the leaden windows of the bedchamber. The door creaks on its hinges like some spectre haunts the entry. She buries her head into the crook of her husband’s shoulder and tries to ignore the loud noises and sheets of rain careening from the heavens.

“Mama?”

Sansa sits up in the bed, Dany’s arm falling off her torso and Jon grumbling sleepily besides her. The torches in the hallway illuminates a silver-haired girl clutching a stuffed wolf in her arms. “What’s wrong, love? Did you have a bad dream?”

Rhaella, her elder daughter, nods with a quivering chin and pulls her wolf closer against her body. “The storm woke me up.”

“Come here.” Sansa motions to the space that formed between her and Dany when she rolled into Jon. Rhaella clambers onto the bed and rests her head against Sansa’s bosom. Sansa strokes the girl’s hair and shoulder. “Tell me about your dream.”

“I was a dragon.” Rhaella begins, cuddling into Sansa. “I was playing by the sea with all the other dragons when a wave came in. I didn’t have any wings, so all the other dragons flew away and left me to drown.”

Tears brim in her eyes and Sansa wraps her arm around her daughter to give her comfort. Rhaella may have Dany’s silver curls and Jon’s grey gaze, but she is soft and gentle and sweet, drawn to embroidery and singing over dragonback or swords, more like Sansa than the mother who birthed her.

“Oh darling, you know the other other dragons would never leave you behind.”

Rhaella sniffs. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Sansa kisses her on the forehead. Besides them, Dany murmurs in her sleep and her violet eyes flutter open. Despite her drowsy state, she instantly picks up on her daughter’s troubles.

“What’s wrong?”

“A nightmare and the storm.” Sansa explains. Rhaella moves her head to Dany’s shoulder. Dany takes Sansa’s hand over Rhaella, forming a protective ring.

“I’m better now, Muña. But can I stay with you and Momma?” Rhaella asks sweetly. Even as she speaks, her eyes close and her voice softens.

Outside, the storm reigns on. Dany kisses the child of her blood. “yes, dōna mēre.” She leans in so her forehead is touching Sansa’s and she whispers, “Thank you for calming her.”

Sansa presses a soft kiss to Dany’s lips. “Of course.”

Before they can fall back to sleep, though, someone knocks on their door. Three more of their pack stand in the entryway. Sansa sighs as Dany’s hand leaves her own and her wife slips from the bed and goes to them. Eddard, the oldest of all their children, holds the young twins on either side of him.

“The babies were crying. They’re scared.”

“I’m sure they’re the only ones who were.” Dany says wryly. Sansa pulls Rhaella into her arms as Dany takes Aemon’s free hand and leads the line of children to their bed. She lifts up the twins and Eddard climbs up himself, much too old to need his Muña’s help.

The children all on the bed, Dany climbs in after and sits against the headboard. Eddard settles between his mothers and Alysanne climbs in Dany’s lap. As the children adjust themselves around their mothers, Jon finally stirs. Noticing him sitting up, Aemon quickly climbs over Sansa to throw himself into his father’s arms. Sansa smiles to see how much alike they look, and Jon’s bewildered expression at the sudden weight of his son in his arms.

Even though Aemon has dark amethyst eyes and silver hair, his face is all his father’s, sullen and brooding. Alysanne takes after Sansa despite her lavender eyes, with sharp cheeks and her mother’s same nose. Eddard is the only child of her womb to inherit her Tully red hair and blue eyes, but he takes after her the least. A dragonrider since age seven, he would have been one younger if Stormwing had hatched sooner.

Jon glances over at Sansa and Dany, his voice playful. “What brings this pack of dragonwolves into our den?”

“I’m scared.” Alysanne whines with a frown and reaches out a hand towards Jon. Sometimes, the girl has the making of a warrior. But other times . . . Of all the children, she has best figured out how to wrap her father around her little fingers.

He takes her hand and squeezes it. “I’ll protect you. I promise.”

Alysanne’s face lights up at her father’s devotion and she wraps her arms around Dany’s neck. Dany leans close to Sansa and sets her head against her shoulders as Eddard shimmies under the fur that covers him and his mothers. 

“Momma, will you sing?” Rhaella asks sleepily.

Dany strokes Alysanne’s soft hair. “How about a lullaby?”

“The Father’s face is stern and strong, he sits and judges right from wrong.” Sansa begins, her voice soft and low. Dany hums along. Although she does not know all the words, the melody soothes her in her own nightmares as much as they soothe the children in theirs. “He weighs our lives, the short and long, and loves the little children.”

Sansa gets through to almost the last verse before a crack of lightning splits the sky and lights up the doorway, where little Brandon rubs his grey eye with his fist and drags a stuffed dragon in the other. 

“I woke and everyone was gone.” His lips tremble.

“We’re with you now.” Jon rises from the bed with Alysanne clutched to his side. He scoops up Brandon in his other arm and takes him to the bed. Sansa pushes back his silver hair and kisses the boy on his forehead. 

Dany reaches out to hold his hand with her free one. “It’s a night of bad dreams, it seems.”

“Yea,” Eddard murmurs. “The babies had nightmares. I had to bring them here.”

“Don’t leave me alone next time.” Brandon insists. Alysanne cuddles up to him on their father’s lap. He’s always been her favorite brother, since the moment she was born. “I can help protect them, too.”

“Now, where were we love?” Dany asks, eyes lingering over the babes in their laps and finishing on her wife’s smiling face. Dany picks up the tune again and the children shift and settle into more comfortable positions.

“The Seven Gods who made us all, are listening if we should call.” Sansa sings, stroking her daughters hair and watching as her family slowly falls asleep around her.  “So close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children.”

As she reaches the last lines, Dany’s humming begins to fade as she too gives in to sleep’s pull. Sansa turns her head, presses her lips to Dany’s forehead and then to Jon’s on her other shoulder. This may not be the life she dreamt of as a girl, but she does not think she’s ever been happier then she is right now surrounded by a husband and wife who love her and who she loves in turn, and children who are theirs all to love together. “Just close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children.”

---

In case you were curious all the children are: Eddard (9), Rhaella (8), Brandon (6), Aemon + Alysanne (3). Eddard and the twins are from Sansa’s womb and Rhaella and Brandon are from Dany’s. But they raise the children equally and are both their mothers. Sansa goes by Mother/Momma and Dany goes by the Valyrian word, Muña. The other Valyrian phrase, dōna mēre, means sweet one.

[izaswritings]

Title: the problem with politics

Synopsis: Rapunzel has been crowned Queen and Varian has finally been pardoned. Some people have objections to this. Or, as Cassandra would say, “Some people need a kick in the—”

Notes: I wrote this in an exhausted daze in the middle of the night during a very tiring vacation. In other words…. Please be gentle if it’s not up to snuff?? 😅

Also, disclaimer—  I know nothing about politics, I just wanted to try my hand at humor and happiness for once. Also, does this count as fluff?? I’m kind of counting this as fluff. It’s for Fluff week.

-

This fic a sequel to another fic of mine, which you read either here or here! You don’t have to read it to understand this fic, but it does set up some background.

AO3 Link for this fic is here.

-

“I just have a few concerns,” says the minister, meaning, I have issues with every choice you have ever made.

“I see,” says Rapunzel, meaning, I regret ever letting you enter my kingdom, you long-winded old coot.

The minister smiles, unsuspecting of her insult. Eugene, sitting beside Rapunzel and looking quite dashing in his crown and kingly outfit, coughs awkwardly into one hand to hide a smile. He always has known her too well.

Rapunzel does not react. She sits there and smiles as pretty as she can, just as her mother taught her, and resists the urge to jump out the window. She’s great at spontaneous dynamic exits, she’d catch herself no problem, and it would, quite honestly, be hilarious.

Across the room, Cassandra catches Rapunzel’s eye and slowly shakes her head. No jumping out of windows, Raps, that’s what that means. Rapunzel scowls back and reluctantly looks back at the minister. He’s one of many, a leader of some far-off country Rapunzel can’t even remember the name of, and she has been sitting here for hours in a meeting she thought would take only a few minutes.

“First,” says the minister, in what promises to be a very long list of everything this old man thinks Rapunzel is doing wrong, “there is the matter of your choice in… company.”

“Hmm,” says Rapunzel, slouching in her chair.

“Not that I would object to a Queen’s decision! But ah, there are some… concerns, Your Highness, on what would inspire you to pardon a known criminal?”

It’s rather hilarious how quickly the kingdom has forgotten Rapunzel’s roots. Her husband—and their Prince Consort, technically nearly a king—was once a thief, her royal baker and pianist and many others in her court are former thugs of the Snuggly Duckling pub, and Rapunzel herself caused quite a stir way back when with her absolute refusal to wear shoes. Really, they should have seen this coming.

Also, known criminal? Who is this man kidding? Half the reason Varian was such an effective informant was that the only people that still remembered his crimes were the guards. And the royal family, admittedly; but this man is neither of those things.

Varian, standing to the left of her, who thus far has been absently fiddling with a new vial of some green concoction, must be thinking something similar, because he snorts and nearly drops the vial on Rudiger. The raccoon chitters at him and jumps up to his shoulders, and the minister gives them a sharp look, before ignoring them entirely, not giving Varian or Rudiger a second glance.

…Which, now that Rapunzel thinks about it, is another mark against the minister. So much for ‘known criminal,’ has the man even realized the criminal in question is standing right across from him?

Seriously. Rapunzel’s been dealing with these people for weeks. She’s already given her long-winded explanations, her stories and her reasoning, and yet the number of complaining royals seems to have only increased. Why, why do they just keep coming? It’s not like Varian attacked their kingdom!

“Very concerning,” Rapunzel agrees pleasantly, trying not to sound too eager to leave. Her fingers tap restlessly against her leg. “I’ll take those suggestions under advisement. If there is nothing else…?”

Cassandra, familiar with the former King’s favorite phrase, chokes on her breath, nearly dropping her halberd. Behind her throne, Rapunzel can hear Varian snicker.

If they give her away, Rapunzel is banning them both from the castle. She has dealt with too many of these people. If they subject her to another hour of this… Well! Drastic measures must be taken.

However, thank the Sun and Moon, the minister seems unaware of their mockery. His smile is slimy but genuinely pleased, and Rapunzel resists the urge to wrinkle her nose at him.

“Well, if you insist,” says the minister, sounding… far too high-and-mighty, actually, oh dear. Rapunzel turns her attention back to him, feeling a bit desperate, her heart sinking. “I do have a few other recommendations for how your castle should be running. First of all—" And here, he looks pointedly at Pascal, perched on Rapunzel’s head, before eyeing Rudiger up on Varian’s shoulders. “—this isn’t exactly a zoo, Your Highness.”

Rapunzel goes absolutely still. Beside her, Eugene sighs openly, clasping a hand over his face. Varian clutches Rudiger to his chest and gives the man a dirty look. Even Cassandra looks offended, one hand rising to pat Owl on the head.

Pascal, turned yellow-white with shock at the audacity, gives a little gasp.

Rapunzel closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. Then she exhales slow and careful, and fixes the man with her best smile. “Quite right,” she says, her gaze boring into him. The minister starts to look at bit nervous. Rapunzel keeps on smiling. Her teeth are grit. “This is no zoo, it’s a castle. Therefore, sir, I implore you to treat these animals with respect, and assume they are here for a reason. Unlike yourself.”

The minister looks startled, and then offended, opening his mouth again. Eugene flies up to his feet before a word can pass through his lips. “Well!” he says loudly, grandly, one hand flung out to the sky. “That was positively riveting! Thank you, kind sir, for your marvelous advice. So helpful! But, alas, it is time for lunch. Can’t ignore the bell.” He grabs Rapunzel’s arm, smile wide and bright and a little desperate. “Ta-ta, see you later! Or never! Or whichever works, really! Come along dear, I think the steak is calling for me.”

He tugs into her into a half-way spin and drags her bodily down the hall and out of the throne room. As if following an unspoken cue, Cassandra and Varian tag along behind them. Cassandra is grinning. Varian is petting Rudiger and muttering under his breath.

Rapunzel closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to reorient herself. Oh, darn it. She hadn't meant to lose her temper. Still... at least it got her out of that room, at any rate. She doesn't think she could've lasted another hour.

“So,” Rapunzel says dryly, once the throne room is out of sight, in lieu of thanks. “Steak can talk now?”

Eugene blinks down at her and then flashes a winning smile. His arm comes around and squeezes her shoulder. “Well, now, you never know! Maybe Varian used the kitchen for his alchemy.”

“Um, objection,” Varian says, jogging slightly to catch up to them, before slowing down to walk at their heels. He crosses his arms, chin tilted up in false offense. “That is sloppy. I am never sloppy.”

“Anymore,” says Cassandra, slyly.

“Do you know what flynnolium does to steak?” Varian asks her. “I mean, even for me— sloppy.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow at that, looking curious. “What does flynnolium do to steak?”

Varian brightens, pushing back his goggles up further on his head and starting to grin. “Well—”

“I do not know,” Eugene says, speaking loudly over them. “I do not know, and I hope I never find out, because wow that is a terrifying thought.”

“Ah, spoilsport,” Varian mutters, but drops the subject without further prompting. Behind Eugene’s back, noticeable only in the corner of Rapunzel’s eye, Cassandra nudges at Varian's shoulder. She points between Varian and herself and then towards the direction of the royal kitchens, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Varian gives her an ok-sign back in return.

Rapunzel has a feeling she is going to receive a report on what happens when raw meat interacts with deadly chemical very, very soon, no matter what Eugene wishes. She hides a smile behind her hand and looks ahead, feigning innocence. If Cassandra and Varian want to make things go boom in the castle kitchens, Rapunzel isn’t going to stop them. She confesses to being bit curious herself, honestly.

Besides. Maybe it will give those old coots something else to gossip about. It’s been nearly a month, after all—they’ll have to move on from Varian’s pardon eventually. Maybe this is just the nudge they need.

Rapunzel loops her arm with Eugene’s, grinning outright at the idea, ignoring his concerned expression. “What was that you said back there? Lunch? Lunch sounds amazing.” She peers over her shoulder at a guilty-looking Cassandra and Varian and winks. “Shall we head for the kitchens?”

Cassandra grins back with all her teeth. Varian bounces once on his heels and mouths, Explosions. So many explosions, at her with an expression akin to a kid in a candy store.

Don’t get caught, Rapunzel mouths back, and Varian gives her a little salute.

When she turns back to Eugene, his face is downturned but his eyes are resigned. “For the love of—" He sighs, suddenly and loudly, and shakes his head. "Oh, well. It’s past time we had new gossip in here anyways. The pardon was getting pretty stale.”

There are no ministers here, no nobles or guards or anyone Rapunzel needs to pretend around. She is surrounded by her friends and family, surrounded by those she loves. Her greatest threat now is dealing with annoying dignitaries, rather than evil sorcerers, and Rapunzel—Rapunzel couldn’t be happier.

She takes Eugene’s hand, throws back her head, and laughs. “To the kitchens!”

[we-shall-remain]

Covenant

“You shouldn't go,” David said, sitting neatly upon one of the royal chairs in Jonathan's room, the crowned prince, son of King Saul, strumming a few notes upon his harp, although it was clear that he was to distracted with worry to play, “Since your father and brothers are going, you should stay... with me.”

“Oh, is that your great council then?” Jonathan smiled slightly, understandingly, teasing a little as he approached the shepherd, “I admit it is a hard choice: stay here and listen to your exquisite melodies, or go into bloody battle. Hm, tough choice indeed.”

“I'm serious, Jon. What if-” David said, turning to come face to face with his lover and best friend, the prince smiling and stealing a soft kiss from the harpist's lips to sooth him. David sighed gently into that kiss and he loved this man, dearer to him then anyone he had ever known. He lifted a hand to cup the prince's cheek, look into his eyes when they parted. They were so blue, like the deepness of the sea.

“You're worrying yourself like an old woman, David,” Jonathan said tenderly, his own hand lifting to cover David's, press a kiss into his lover's palm, “My love, O Star of Bethlehem, come now. Such anxiousness is not like you. Give me a smile to keep when I leave, so as to light my way home to you.”

“Jonathan,” David continued softly, his hand shifting through Jonathan's dark hair to cup the back of his head as the prince leaned close once more, his kisses moving lower, down David's neck, the shepherd's toes curling in pleasure, “If I give you such a gift, you must give me something in trade, to keep my heart warm while you are gone.”

Jonathan smirked against David's sun kissed skin at that, chuckling to rise and look at his beloved.

“Very well,” he said, amused, “What would you like?”

David placed his harp aside and looked at his dearheart full on, thinking on such a request. What should he ask for?

Jonathan was every inch a true prince of Israel; strong and noble, kind with an easy smile, handsome, with his dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, a promised leader. He was dressed the part too, and David tilted his head to the side, an idea springing to mind.

“I would ask for your robe,” the shepherd replied and Jonathan nodded his acquiesce.

“Then it is yours,” the prince said humbly, removing the fine rich cloth to draw it around David's shoulders, but the harpist had his plan, so he did not smile.

“No?” David's beloved asked, curious, “What now then, my darling?”

“I would ask for your bow, my love,” David replied, and Jonathan nodded once more and presented it to him, but David did not smile.

“Hm? More then I see,” the prince commented, his tone light, “Very well, ask. I shall give you the world, if only to see you smile.”

“Flatterer,” David said, pressing his lips together because Jonathan made him so happy, but he would not give in yet, “I would ask for your sword, O warrior of Israel.”

The man chuckled then and drew his sword, bending on knee to present the fine blade to whom he loved more then his own soul, offering it to David as if he were king. The shepherd accept the sword, brushing his fingertips over Jonathan's palms, but he did not smile.

“Shall I gift you heaven then, my seraph, if you should only smile?” was the request and David tipped his head the other way and motioned for his lover to stand.

“I would ask for you garments, my dearest heart,” David replied, his voice even, even though at this point he wanted to smirk, his worries having eased because Jonathan was to kind to die. God would not be so cruel as to take him, from Israel or from David.

Jonathan blinked, his smile easy as he understood.

“My, lust and greed are sins, David,” he replied, teasing but he lowered his hands to his belt to begin removing his clothing, his tunic and breeches, leaving him in his girdle, a fine image of a man.

David almost broke then, almost gave up his game, because Jonathan was magnificent and the harpist was almost shy with giddiness. He loved him so.

So he crooked a finger to draw the prince close, sharing another kiss with him, beauty and love and faith with them together, before David's hands descended to rest upon the girdle around Jonathan's hips.

“I would request this,” David purred in his lover's ear and the prince sighed in desire, nodding to allow David to slip it from him, down his thighs and to the floor.

It was then, that David smiled and their lips were sealed with a kiss, Jonathan lifting his greedy, lustful, blessed lover from the chair and into his arms. They reached the bed, David on his back as he too was striped, lovingly made nude by the darling of his heart, and their love making was full and hot and tender.

The shepherd clung to his prince, moaning softly as Jonathan moved blissfully within him and there was nothing that made David happier. Nothing but being with his dearest lover.

“Ah, ah, Jon~...”

Drifting in a hot, honey dipped haze, and then David opened his eyes and...

He was looking up at the dark canopy of a bed, the frozen wind blowing outside the Chaldea's window and all was deadly still and dark. The king hiccuped, tears pricking his eyes as he realized his mistake. Dream, it had been a dream, a memory from long past, and his heart ached.

He closed his fist over the cloth of his heart and tried hard not to weep, because Jonathan was dead. Died in the battle alongside Saul and Jonathan's brothers, the battle that David had tried to spare him from. He had failed to protect the lover of his soul, and...

David sobbed, because in the darkened night when everything was soft and sharp around the edges of his mind he couldn't stop it and he was crushed and afraid as he had been the moment he'd learned of Jonathan's death.

There was a shift in the darkness besides him, and David turned to look as a warm hand reached out to tenderly take hold of his shoulder, gently draw him into the warm embrace of his artist. Michelangelo was awake, his brown eyes soft with understanding, and David sobbed once more and curled up into his divine one's arms, his own arms wrapping around Michelangelo's neck to hold tight.

“Michel, stay with me, please,” he murmured, so soft and fragile like a newborn lamb, unsteady on it's feet, and Michelangelo hushed him gently, ran his fingers through emerald strands and down David's back to sooth him.

“I shall never leave you, I promise.”

And they curled together in the dark in Michelangelo's bed, and while the past would always remain, they had their future, held like a vow. They would see to it.

[misskikuwrites]

I loved your "Breaking Composure" fluff story of Corrin and Kaze! Would you be willing to do one of Azura and Kaze? (It's really hard to find a ship for this man that isn't good lol)

₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡ 

Aww thank you! I absolutely adore Kaze and Kaze/Azura was one of my pairings in my first playthough and they will always have a soft spot in my heart! 

Like No Other 

Kaze/Azura

It was her voice that made himpause. A gentle song spilled out into the evening air, drawing Kaze closer asif tugging, plucking and pulling on the very threads of his heart with everysweet note Azura sang. A light shiver washed down his spine. He’d never heardanything like it before. Never heard her sing so freely, so openly and full ofconfidence. There was no audience, no battle, no watching eyes, nothing holdingback the true power and grace in her voice.

And when Kaze saw her, goldeneyes raised heavenward, a blissful smile on her face as she sang, his lungsemptied of air. He saw nothing but her, nothing but the light in her eyes. Hedidn’t see the branch beneath his foot as he stepped forward in a daze. The branchsnapped, shattering the calm and Azura’s song as she whirled to face him with agasp.

“K-Kaze!” Azura gasped, eyesblowing wide. She drew a hand to her chest in surprise, her cheeks colouring asoft pink as an embarrassed blush crawled up her face. “You gave me a fright. Ididn’t notice you there.”

Looking at Azura now, her cheeksflushed, the polite smile on her face to hide her embarrassment, Kaze foundthat his brain had ceased functioning. No words came to him. He stood, frozenby her gaze, and couldn’t remember the reason why Corrin had asked him to seekher out in the first place. Instinct took over and replaced the mesmerisedexpression on his face with a genteel smile.

“My apologies, milady.” Kaze gaveher a curt, apologetic bow. “I heard your singing and was enchanted. I couldn’thelp but want to listen to such a beautiful voice.”

Azura’s smile brightened. “Thankyou, Kaze. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Her smile was as beautiful as hervoice. Behind the composed mask on Kaze’s face, he was entranced. His heartfluttered away in his chest as if her song, her voice, that graceful yetfleeting smile on her face had cast a spell on him. He was utterly bewitched, entranced,stunned speechless that she would ever grace someone like him with a smile likethat. It was hard to swallow. To reply. To say anything at all when he knewthat someone of his stature should excuse themselves quickly and not deign tospeak further but, by the gods, there was a spell over him.

“If I may be honest,” Kaze began,forcing the words out through the tightness in his throat, “I have never heard –or seen – you sing so freely and happily before. Your voice is such a gift, Ihave to wonder why you come so far away from others to use it.”

Kaze didn’t know what he wassaying. The question formed before his mind had caught up with his tongue andhe was walking towards her as if still under the magic of her song. Stillcharmed. Still pulled, drawn, towards her. He stopped a polite distance away.

“My mother taught me that song.”

Kaze regretted asking immediatelywhen her gaze fell. The light in her eyes, blissful and glowing, faded as sheturned to the horizon. Her smile, once free and radiant, became forlorn andheavy. Her eyes glazed over.

“It’s all I have left of her now.”

The pain in her voice was a stabto Kaze’s heart. A blade driven deep by his own words, his insatiable curiosityand complete disregard for propriety.

“I… I am sorry. I should not haveasked.”

His heart ached. Throat clampedtight as he chided, cursed himself for asking, for being so lost in her voiceand his desire to speak with her that he forgot himself.

Azura turned back to him with asmile. “That’s all right. It was only a question; you didn’t mean any harm.” Itwas a smile that, however faint, stole his breath once again.

Kaze began to seek out that smile time andtime again. He began to look forward to delivering her messages from Corrin oranyone else in order to be beneath Azura’s gaze once more. Every time he wasrewarded with a smile. It didn’t matter to him, or his heart, that the smile hereceived was her just being polite. A smile of greeting. Of thanks. It made hisheart lighter and his composed mask slip. He smiled earnestly, brightly, inreturn. His voice softened. He lingered, and she smiled.

Their meetings were always short.Always Kaze initiated the conversation and lost himself in her eyes, in hersmile and her gentle laughter. And her laughter did wonders to his heart justlike her song had. His heart was her instrument and her laughter played anever-ending concert that continued even after they parted.

Perhaps there was magic to hervoice, to her song. Or perhaps she was the embodiment of magic itself,entrancing and bewitching even in the simplest moments. His heart had stoppedwhen she approached him with a request and she graced him with a sweet laughwhen he acted in surprise like they’d never spoken before.

He’d been so shocked, so stunned,absolutely speechless and frozen to have her seek him out first. And it wassuch a simple request that Kaze found himself wishing she had asked for morebut he smiled at how kind she was, thinking of her nana who had taken ill.

He hadn’t expected her to burstinto tears at the sight of a single flower petal that came along with the reply.Her eyes widened and filled with tears, her fingers shaking as she took hold ofit.

“Milady! Are you crying?” Hisheart stopped when her eyes washed over with tears. “Is everything all right?”

Azura cupped the flower petal inher hands and swallowed a sob, a sharp gasp of air. “We used to pick theseflowers…” she broke off with a sniff, tears falling as she blinked, “a-all thetime! She taught me how to make them into flower crowns…”

Azura dropped her head to Kaze’sshoulder as she cried. Her shoulders shook with each sob, each gasp and sniffleas she tried to calm herself, every single pained sound a sliver of ice to Kaze’sheart. He stiffened, his arms frozen by his sides. He longed to wrap his armsaround her, to hold her close and give her the comfort she needed but the tinyspecks of his composure screamed at him not to.

“Milady… surely this should makeyou happy,” Kaze said, unable to think of anything else. His heart ached, histhroat ached as if he were the one crying, as if the hands clenched by hissides were clenched around his neck.

Azura drew back from him with asob. “It does. It’s just…” she trailed off when she realised just how closethey were, how she’d left a damp patch on his shoulder. She snapped away from himwith a quick step. “I’m sorry! I can’t believe I sobbed all over your sleeve…” Shesniffled, and tried to bat away the remainders of her tears with her hands.

“Don’t apologise, milady,” Kazesaid kindly. “Your tears showed how deeply you must care for your nana.” Heoffered her a warm smile, covering up the torrent of emotions churning insidehim with his perfectly composed smile. His heart pounded in his chest, in hisears. He wondered for a frightful second if she’d felt the rapid beating whenshe’d leant against him.

She managed a slight smile andKaze’s heart lifted. “I’m so embarrassed… I can’t believe I cried like that.Please, swear to me you will forget this ever happened!”

Kaze’s smile dropped. Hisexpression became serious. “Milady, I am afraid I cannot swear to that.”

Azura’s eyes widened. “What?”

“The image of you crying,clutching my shoulder, will be burned in my memory forever,” Kaze said, lettinghis lips quirk in the beginnings of a smile. He spoke the truth with a teasingtone, eyes glinting with mirth. “I could not forget even if I tried.”

“Kaze, that’s not fair!” shegasped, mortified. “Don’t taunt me like that. At least promise not to tellanyone!” She pressed her lips together, a faint dusting of pink colouring hercheeks, though the glare she gave him was anything but serious.

Kaze laughed. He couldn’t helpit, not after teasing her like that, after having her respond to him in such away. His heart had grown wings. He felt free, felt strangely happy, almosteuphoric, to act like this with her. “I guess you will have to be extra nice tome in order to keep my silence,” he teased. “Here. If it will make you feelbetter, I shall renew my vow of service to you.”

Sceptical, Azura studied his eyesfor a moment. “Fine then, if you insist.”

When Kaze knelt down before her,she was smiling. Kaze rested a hand over his heart and lifted his eyes to hers,speaking with reverence. “Milady, I swear to always protect you and your nanaeven if it should cost me my life.”

Her smile brightened, removingall traces of her tears, and he couldn’t have been happier.

From that moment onward, Kazefelt drawn to Azura more than ever before. His eyes always sought her out,always lingering on her in the distance, his ears picking up her voice fromacross the room or in the heat of battle. She was always on his mind, foreverin his heart. She affected him like no one had done before.

He hadn’t realised his gaze hadbeen following Azura until Corrin laughed and caught his attention.

“If you like her so much, why don’tyou tell her?” Corrin asked, a knowing smile on her lips.

Kaze’s eyes widened as his heartskipped a beat. “I… I beg your pardon, milady?”

“Azura.” Corrin gave a nod in herdirection. “You should tell her how you feel.”

Kaze blinked, stunned intosilence. “I… what?”

His reaction made Corrin laugh. “Oh,Kaze. Just go talk to her instead of staring, all right?” She gave him a lightpush, and other when he protested. Reluctantly, with his heart in his throat,Kaze made his way over to Azura.

She smiled when he approached. “Kaze,there you are. Do you have a minute?”

Kaze nodded, finding his smilewidening as he stepped close. “Why yes, milady! I am delighted every time youwish to speak with me. I look forward to our conversations. They are becoming aregular thing now!” He teased her with his words but there was nothing falsebehind their meaning. He spoke honestly with a smile, his heart squeezingwhenever they spoke. A warmth enveloped him whenever she smiled.

“Yes, they are, but I wish youwould stop acting so surprised all the time!” Azura shook her head, chidinghim.

“I am not surprised!”

“Well, you’re blushing!” Azurapointed out. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for spending time with me.Whenever I find myself feeling out of place here, all I have to do is glanceover to find you by my side. You give me a smile and, suddenly, you and I arethe only two people in the room.”

Azura spoke with such honestly,with such a gentle smile, that Kaze feared his heart would run away from him. Hesoftened at how open, how honest she was being.

“I know how you feel.” It was allhe could say without his tongue tripping up and revealing something he shouldn’t.He was walking on thin ice, the fragile layer of his composure fracturing andcracking beneath her smile. One slip was all it would take and the depths ofhis heart would reveal itself.

“Kaze, having you near me makesme feel at home no matter where I am,” Azura continued. She reached out andtook his hand, giving it a nervous squeeze, giving him a nervous smile. “Ioften feel alone but when I am with you, I know that I have at least onefriend. I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

Kaze squeezed her hand in return,knowing that if he spoke, it would be with his heart. She gazed at him so earnestlythat the final piece of his composure, of his fear, shattered.

“You’ve stolen the words rightout of my mouth,” Kaze said. He stepped closer, taking her other hand so thathe held them both. “If it was up to me, I would never leave your side. I wouldmarry you if I could…”

The words came out before hecould stop them. Azura’s eyes widened and for an excruciatingly long momentKaze feared she would pull away.

She smiled and Kaze’s heartburst. “Kaze, I thought you would never ask.”

“You feel the same way? Really?”He was breathless. Unable to believe what he’d heard until she nodded, blushingbeneath his questioning, his ecstatic smile. “Please, will you marry me, LadyAzura?”

Her laughter was as sweet as hersmile, as sweet as her answer. “Yes, Kaze! Of course I will!”