#THEY MADE A HOLE TO THE VOID IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOUNTAIN.

[abyssboo]

As I make my way through Joel’s pov of hc10 I am being further and further faced with a fact: Magic Mountain is Boatem but with more people

[mother-above]

All the Time in the World

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and his family are reminded that even fae don't have all the time in the world.

*I've made some edits! (nothing major)

Warnings: fluff, angst, death, swearing, grief (this is my formal apology to you all)

*masterlist*

Everything happens for a reason.

Those are five words people say to cope and rationalize why bad or good things happen. Azriel, Rhysand, Cassian, Morrigan, and Amren are no strangers to those five words. They thought about it daily, sometimes it was their first thought after waking up. You were always in their dreams, sometimes frolicking in a meadow, they wouldn’t see your face, but they knew your body, how your hair blew in the wind, how your arms lifted to feel the sun's warmth. Sometimes you were the main character of their dreams. So vibrant and full of life while tugging their hands to make them hurry and keep up with you whether it was running errands in Velaris or on a mission.

Sometimes, they would whisper, “Everything happens for a reason” before they slept. They would go about their day and even if it were filled with love, happiness, and laughter there was always a missing piece, a void that could never be filled. 

You were an enigma. So powerful, so enchanting, the nobles in Hewn City knew to keep you hidden away. But someone like you could never go unnoticed, especially when you could manipulate the elements. You’d been surrounded by earth and rock all your life. You just knew there was something more, you felt it when you touched the granite walls, the stone told you of the sun beating down, of the wind and water that battered the outer layers of the mountain. 

Fae with your powers could never be contained for too long, the Court of Nightmares was a prison you were bound to escape. The nobles trained you like a warrior, Keir hoped to use you to usurp the High Lord, but he acted too late, your power had grown.

When Rhysand became High Lord, he caught wind of your presence, a flourishing beacon of power trapped underground. Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian took it upon themselves to investigate where this power was coming from. When they landed on the mountain, they were met by a female who paid no attention to the Illyrian warriors. 

Your head was thrown back as you savored the hot kiss of the sun for the first time. Around you was granite rubble, and when they looked fifty feet to the right, a gaping hole came straight from the mountain's depths. You had dug yourself out and the Illyrians had no idea how.

Finally acknowledging the three brothers, you eyed the male with violet irises. “They told me your name is Rhysand. That I have to kill you.”

Azriel and Cassian’s siphons flared as they drew their weapons and pointed them menacingly toward you.

That was the first time you met the young High Lord and his brothers. All it took was for Rhysand to read your unguarded mind to see what you are and how you’ve been raised. To Azriel and Cassian’s surprise, Rhysand invited you to live with them. Shortly after that, you were acquainted with Morrigan who you’ve seen around before, and this ancient creature named Amren. The six of you became a family that supported each other through thick and thin. Under their care, you developed your powers and could manipulate nature's elements in any way you could imagine. 

Your type of power has never been seen before and you were dangerous only when you needed to be. Despite your rough upbringing, you were good, you were the sunshine that graced every room you entered. The only unstable part of you was how your moods could sway the environment around you, like the time that idiotic male cheated on you, and landslides affected the mountains around Illyria. On your 250th birthday, the inner circle threw you a surprise party and you were so happy, the next few days were unusually warm and sunny for the middle of winter. There was also that time Cassian pissed you off during training for pushing you too hard, a bolt of lightning and thunder cracked right above the House of Wind’s training ring. You don’t think you’ve heard Cassian scream like that before.

One would think the High Lords of the other courts hated you, but they didn’t. Yes, you were a threat because you were another powerful individual who was loyal to Rhysand, but they couldn’t hate you, it was impossible to. Amren credited you for being the reason the other courts haven’t waged war on the Night Court, your presence was soothing, and you had a way to compromise like no other. You were such a good courtier that Beron tolerated you. It also didn’t help that your laughter was infectious, Thesan and Helion made sure you were invited to every big event.

You were accomplished, sociable, and a capable elemental manipulator but you always thought your greatest achievement was bringing Azriel out of his shell. At first, the shadowsinger was apprehensive about you living with them but that quickly changed, his shadows found you interesting and you coaxed him out of the shadows. In a way, he felt obligated to help you, all your life was spent in Hewn City and even then, you were more isolated than Morrigan. He knew you were stuck in the darkness, and he wanted to show you the light. At the time, he didn’t know he needed you more.

Azriel loved to replay the memory of taking you on your first flight tour of Velaris, you gripped his neck and shoulders as you shrieked in glee. He would never be able to forget how your scent overwhelmed him that day, pine and cherry blossoms forever embedded in his consciousness. He landed by the Sidra, and you leaped from his arms and headed straight to the water. You slipped the sandals off and dipped your toes into the cool water and a wide grin spread across your face. 

“Azriel! Come here!”

He obliged, he found it difficult to say no to you. He stood by the bank and found comfort from the sound of rushing water. All was calm until water splashed his shirt, and his eyes snapped open to see you with a mischievous smile, perfect spheres of water floated above your hands. With a flick of your wrist, they collided with his body, the water sticking his black shirt onto his muscular torso. You had approximately 2 seconds to admire him before a large splash headed your way. Azriel grinned as he watched you stand there in shock. 

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” smirked Azriel. 

Then the water fight started and the two of you never gave up, it was elemental magic versus a strapping warrior. You called a truce and both of you walked to the townhouse soaking wet, Mor wouldn’t let you into the house till you stopped dripping so you and Azriel sat on the front steps and watched faeries of all kinds pass by. Azriel caught himself smiling at you whenever you talked, he felt safe with you, like you would never judge him for his scars or dark past. He found it easy to talk to you, you never pressured him to talk like his brothers and Mor would do. Over time, one glance was all it took for you to understand what he needed.

The two of you danced around each other for decades, neither of you brave enough to take the next step. You saw Rhysand and Cassian as your brothers but when it came to Azriel, it felt different, there was unspoken tension, a different love that ran deep and made you blush. Every time he brought a female home, jealousy filled you and the clouds became grey and stormy. Azriel felt the same way when you started dating. No one ever stuck for more than a few months, but he hated every one of the males, they would never be good enough for you. What stung the most was Azriel didn’t think he was good enough for you either. 

One day, you and Morrigan were sitting at the table having breakfast. She remembers this day so clearly because she had never seen you blush that color red. Azriel stopped by to eat a banana before training, Morrigan watched you not so discreetly check Azriel out in his Illyrian leathers. When he was done eating, Azriel threw you a wink before he bounded up the stairs to the training ring.

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

You choked on the yogurt causing you to have a coughing fit. “Mor!” you hissed. “Why would you ask that?”

“The two of you work well together, you understand each other.”

You shrugged as you drank water. “He’s my best friend, how else am I supposed to act around him?”

Mor looked at you incredulously. “Do best friends check each other out? Give each other massages after a long mission? Lay their heads on each other’s laps when they read? Kiss each other on the cheek constantly? Fall asleep together on the couch? Do they-”

“Okay!” you exclaimed. “You’ve made your point!”

Your cheeks and ears were cherry red, they burned as you stared at your breakfast.

“The two of you are single right now. I think you should tell him how you feel. Azriel… is Azriel, I think he’s too scared to make the first move, he’s always been more insecure,” said Mor. 

“What if he says no and I ruin our entire relationship?”

Mor looked at your beautiful features and softly laughed. “He would be lying to himself.”

A week later, you finally dared to talk to Azriel about your feelings. He was standing on the balcony nursing a glass of whiskey, staring at the distant storm clouds. You leaned against the railing and looked at him, your heart pounding.

“Are you okay?” Azriel focused on you, his eyes scanning for anything amiss. 

You breathed deeply and fully turned to him. “Azriel… you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t want to change a thing, but I want more and… I think you do too.”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes wide as he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream. 

“Oh, gods. You don’t feel the same way and I just ruined everything, haven’t I?” Your hands covered your face as you spun around to make a run for it.

Scarred hands clamped down on your shoulders and moved you to face him. Gently peeling your hands away from your cherry-red face, he smiled as his hands cupped your cheek. “You didn’t give me time to process.” 

Your lips parted in shock. “So you want more?”

Azriel leaned closer to you, his breath blowing across your face. “I want to be with you.”

Going on your toes, you met him halfway. He remembered how soft your lips were, how you tasted like the wine you had been drinking to gather your courage. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him in closer, his large hands grabbed your waist and lifted you to sit on the railing.

A giggle stopped him from kissing you. “I might fall!”

Azriel’s arms wrapped around your body. “Then I’ll catch you.”

You beamed at him and Azriel’s heart felt full, you were the light he had been chasing all his life. He pressed his lips against yours and you melted against him, a small moan of contentment escaped your lips and Azriel grinned. He needed to hear that sound from you again.

“Ahem.”

You leaned to the side to see Amren smirking at the two of you. “Fucking finally. I thought we’d have to wait two hundred more years for this to happen.”

Azriel growled. “Is there a reason why you’re interrupting us?”

“High Lord Kallias sent out a distress message, I don’t know what kind of emergency so be prepared for anything. We leave in 5 minutes.”

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh and laid his head on your shoulder. “Such bad timing.”

Your fingers went to stroke the hairs on the nape of his neck. “I know,” you purred. “We can finish this when we get back. We’ll talk more about our future and what we want.”

Azriel lifted himself and looked in your gaze, so warm and full of life. The pad of his thumb ran over your bottom lip and that’s when he felt it. That golden thread unraveled itself and snapped into place. He was startled as he looked at you, your features oblivious to the mate bond.

He blinked as he realized it had yet to snap for you. You looked at him with so much adoration that for once in his life, he didn’t doubt your feelings. Your eyebrows scrunched when you noticed a shift within Azriel.

“Nothing,” he said as he pecked your cheek and helped you down from the railing. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay, we have all the time in the world,” you said as you tugged his arm to get ready. 

How the enemy was able to transport a Middengard worm to Winter Court still made faeries scratch their heads to this day. There were also enemy soldiers to worry about, but Rhysand ordered you to help with the monster. According to Rhysand, it was the largest he had ever seen, and its skin was thick and impenetrable. It was getting closer to the city and no matter what the courts shot at it, it never faltered. You joined Kallias and the other fae with ice-manipulation powers to do anything to get the worm away from the city. You slammed a foot down onto the ground and the frozen earth shot upwards hundreds of feet into the sky, creating a barrier for the city. 

Kallias grinned at you, and you threw him a wink, you loved using your powers. Running full force toward the worm, you conjured large razor-sharp spears from the snow and made them jut out in the ground in hopes the Middengard would impale itself. It turned out you all severely underestimated the creature, it grew in height and then slammed itself onto the earth allowing it to burrow and move underground. Your jaw dropped in horror as it quickly made its way to the city, the wall you built would not be able to withstand its power. You looked at the gleaming lights of the city and your heart dropped. There were millions of faeries in danger. 

Your mind whirred as you looked at all your options and the only thing you could think of didn’t look too good for you.

Rhysand could still remember the panic he felt when his Daemati talons slammed against your thoughts. You were so concentrated; your mental walls were halfway down. 

Please don’t do that! It’s too dangerous, there must be another way.

Rhysand’s fae sight let him see your soft smile, your eyes already lined with silver tears.

That’s a whole city, Rhys. you would do the same. Thank you for everything. Tell Azriel I love him.

Rhysand started screaming your name but that didn’t stop you from sprinting toward the Middengard and getting as close as you could. The moment you could detect the worm underneath you, you let out a strangled scream as you used every ounce of your power. Your arms were lifted and when your hands tightened into fists, the earth around you and the worm caved inwards. The giant earth wall that blocked the city crumbled down as you used all the materials available to bury yourself and the Middengard into the depths of Hel. 

High Lord Kallias will never forget the sounds of your family screaming for you, he could still hear it in his nightmares. He remembered Morrigan throwing up and the spymaster dumbfoundedly staring into the soil you disappeared in. 

*** 

Your death shattered the inner circle’s life, they were never able to recover your body making them feel even worse. It was too deep into the earth; the High Lords couldn’t even sense the Middengard worm.  Amren had stayed behind to guard Velaris, so she was the last one to find out. No one had ever seen Amren cry but when her family winnowed in without you, looking shaken and pale, she crumpled onto the floor and let out a wail that shook the townhouse. Rhysand built a beautiful memorial for you by the edge of the city, and upon Azriel’s request, it was placed near the Sidra. 

Everything had turned upside down. It rained for a whole month, and it certainly helped no one's mood. The day you died became a court holiday, the people of Velaris mourned you, even some in Illyria and Hewn City. Every year on your death anniversary, the High Lords came to visit your memorial, they brought flowers or expensive bottles of wine that you liked. Tamlin never showed up, but he always sent a courtier to deliver an extravagant wreath made of spring flowers bursting with color. You had once complimented the peonies that lined his estate and he never forgot about it. 

Every time Azriel opened his eyes in the morning, he wished for sleep because, in his dreams, you were still alive. Your favorite phrase in the world was “Everything happens for a reason”, it helped you cope with your childhood and the inner circle had adopted it as their mantra. Azriel hated it. He refused to believe that what happened to you was written in the stars. He hated that you had to sacrifice yourself. Why you? Why his mate? He had loved you for so long yet so much time was wasted on others when you could have been together. The pain he felt when the golden thread disappeared was unlike anything he had felt before. Azriel thought he was dead until he saw the earth cave in with you in the middle of it. His shadows were screaming but he was numb, he couldn’t believe you were gone just like that.

Azriel swore the birds had stopped singing in Velaris, his family thought he was crazy but then they noticed it too. There were these songbirds that sang every morning and if you heard it, you whistled back and they’d respond. It was like the natural world knew you were gone. Life without you was dull, the stars didn’t shine as bright, and the sky wasn’t as blue as it used to be. 

Like most things, time was the only remedy. With each year that passed, the pain slowly became bearable. Azriel was encouraged to see other people after a hundred years had gone by but nothing went past the first date, no one was ever going to compare to you. He couldn’t touch another female without feeling sick.

The inner circle had gone through so much since you died, and like clockwork, Cassian went to your memorial to sit and give you updates every week.

 ‘Rhys is stuck Under The Mountain. Azriel is being a pain in the ass about going to Illyria. Rhys came back from Under The Mountain. Azriel misses you. Rhys found his mate but she’s with Tamlin. Feyre threw a shoe at Rhysand. He met Feyre’s sisters. We miss you. A war with Hybern was coming. I have a suspicion my mate is Nesta Archeron. The High Lords are having a meeting and we all wish you could be there to contain everyone. I was forced to see Bryaxis, again.’

Sometimes Cassian came with other members of the family but most of the time, it was just him talking to you. 

One day, Rhysand brought Feyre to your memorial, and she gasped at how beautiful it was. Using his Daemati powers, he showed his mate his most precious memories of you. You had befriended a beast in the mountains of Illyria. It was a horned creature and Rhysand had almost obliterated the monster but your delighted laugh stopped him. Yes, the beast was running at you but Rhys failed to notice your outstretched arms and bright grin. You were never scared. 

Feyre squeezed Rhy’s hand as she admired the fresh flowers and gifts that were placed around.

“She was so beautiful and so kind-hearted. I wish I met her.”

“Me too,” he whispered. “You would have loved her.”

The war with Hybern was brutal. If you were still there, you would have tipped the scale and Prythian would have been winning from the get-go. Amren had to unbind herself from her body to save everyone, she was scared in her last few moments but then remembered how selfless and brave you were. The war was over but then Rhysand passed as well, sacrificing himself for the greater good, your last words to him ringing in his ears. 

Feyre begged the High Lords to revive her mate and they did, her anguish reminding them of the loss they all felt when a certain Night Court member had passed. With Rhysand alive, he nodded toward the Cauldron, telling them that Amren was there too. Morrigan and Varian fished her out and Amren came out sputtering and desperately trying to gain control of her body. She kept coughing up water, so she furiously pointed to the Cauldron. 

“What is it?” cried out Morrigan.

Silver tears started streaming down Amren’s face as she attempted to crawl. “I saw her, she’s in there!” she said desperately. “Get her out before she drowns!”

Every faerie looked at her like she was crazy. Who else would be in there? 

Her head swiveled around until she locked into Azriel’s gaze. “She is in there.”

Azriel’s legs carried him toward the Cauldron and not a second later, Morrigan joined him as they blindly reached in. Morrigan started swearing as she felt a limp arm in there, finding the torso, Azriel helped heave the body out of the Cauldron. The female's body thrashed as she coughed out all the water she had swallowed. The High Lords and their courts burst into chaos when Azriel brushed the female’s hair off her face.

Still dressed in Illyrian leathers, there you lay sprawled and gasping for air.

a/n: thank you for reading! please let me know what thought in the comments! xoxo

Part 2

[damnaation]

Light in the Deep

A little lost mer ends up face to face with a deep water leviathan.

Soft, safe, unwilling-to-willing vore, mer pred and prey.

She was lost. Not that she knew where she was supposed to be, actually, but surely it wasn't here, in the middle of the open ocean? Some part of her brain was setting off alarm bells at that, but trying to remember why was like trying to catch bubbles with her fingers.

Well, they weren't going to figure it out just floating there. Maybe there was someone nearby they could ask for help? Though they couldn't see any signs of anyone else, just a steep slope riddled with holes—a dead volcano, some part of their brain noted. Full of lava tubes.

“Hello?” She chirped, ear fins perked to listen for any response, though after a few seconds she deflated slightly. Nothing.

Hanging around out in the open wouldn't help anything, though. With a sharp flick of her tail she darted towards one of the holes, peering in curiously—it seemed empty, without even any signs of passage. The next several entrances were the same, dark and empty voids leading into the mountain.

The further down they got, the darker it became, growing dim like a storm was rolling in. They paused, glancing up—they'd gone deeper than they'd expected, and still no sign of anyone.

The next opening in the mountainside was much larger, a gaping black chasm many times her own length. It sent a shiver down her spine, though she couldn't say why—it looked almost like a mouth, yawning wide and ready to swallow her up.

A sudden shift in the water made them tense, fins flared in a subconscious attempt to make them look bigger, but otherwise unmoving for the moment.

“Hello there, little minnow.” A low voice rumbled from behind them, chuckling slightly. The light had changed, an odd greenish glow emanating from something they couldn't see quite yet.

Turning with a flick of her tail, her eyes widened as she came face to face with a much, much larger mer, speckled with bioluminescent markings.

Leviathan.

He grinned at her, revealing long, needle-sharp teeth that made her blood run cold. A disturbance in the water alerted her to some movement, and that was the final straw.

They bolted, darting away with a sharp flick of their tail. It would be impossible to outswim him, but if they could get out of reach-

Diving into one of the lava tubes, they followed it to a dead end—the path forward blocked by an old collapse, but at least there was a bend blocking them from view. And the tunnel was surely too small for him to be able to grab them.

The sound of rock crumbling under pressure made her yelp, pressing against the rubble and trying to make herself as small as possible. She was too brightly colored to blend in, pink scales and orange fins a distinct beacon in the dim grey tunnel, but there wasn't anywhere else for her to go.

“Oh, come now, little minnow. That's not any way to greet a stranger.” The leviathan hummed, though his pleasant tone was undercut by yet more cracking and shuffling of stone.

Leviathans were dangerous. They remembered that much, or at least they could figure it out. Whatever he had in mind for them would no doubt end badly.

A frightened noise escaped them as they cowered, fins trembling and pressed close to their body. The cacophony from whatever he'd been doing had stopped, at least, but there was no way he'd left. Not that quickly.

She shuddered, pulling her tail close and wrapping her arms around it nervously. How long could she wait? Not forever, surely—eventually she would need to eat, after all. But who knows how long he would wait, lurking outside for her to come out so he could… do whatever leviathans did with shallow dwellers. Certainly nothing good, that's for sure.

Maybe they could shift the rocks blocking their path enough to escape? But they could also trigger a bigger collapse—best not to risk it. With a soft, anxious click they settled in to wait, nervous and trembling.

She wasn't sure how long it'd been by the time she saw the light, bright and comforting like the sun. Uncurling from her spot, she approached cautiously with a flick of her tail, but the light stayed out of reach. Still bright, with a slight greenish tint, but she couldn't tell what it was. It hovered near the entrance to her little hideaway, gleaming just barely out of reach.

They hesitated, feeling a brief flash of concern at the thought of leaving their refuge… but surely it would be alright? Leviathans didn't like bright light, after all. They were deep-dwellers, living in the constant night of the darkest ocean depths. Surely he was gone.

With a little chirp they slowly made their way out of the lava tube, catching a glimpse of claw marks gouged into the rocks as they swam past. A brief shudder ran through them, but they focused on the light again. It seemed a little closer, like they could just reach out and touch it-

The light pulled back, dancing out of her reach as she tried to grab it. Letting out a frustrated noise, she darted forward, reaching out with her hand to touch the light. Her fingers just barely brushed against it when it suddenly jerked back and went out.

A low chuckle surrounded them as they blinked, eyes unadjusted to the dim surroundings after staring at the bright light. They tensed at the feeling of water being disturbed, but couldn't see where it was coming from just yet.

“Well, well, well. Aren't you a cute little thing with a head all full of seaweed.”

She froze, hardly even daring to breathe at the sound of the leviathan’s low call. Stupid—of course he hadn't been gone. And she'd all but swum right into his jaws. Her eyes finally adjusted enough to see his face, looming over her ominously with a threatening smirk and-

And a lure. Poking out of his head of dark curls, pulsing a soft greenish light like the rest of his bioluminescent spots.

“It's awfully dangerous for little minnows like you out in the open. You're lucky I showed up—you could've ended up as a snack for someone far crueller than I.” He murmured, hands curling loosely around them and pulling them closer to his face. They let out a distressed click, pressing back against his palms but unable to escape—he could catch them easily no matter how they tried to flee. Shaking, fins pressed flat in fear, they stared up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, don't be like that, little one. I'll keep you perfectly safe, don't you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Y-you don't have to- I'll b-be fine-” She stammered, voice high pitched and shaky from fear. The leviathan chuckled, shifting his hands and extending a clawed finger to trace along one of her fins—despite the distressed trill and flinch away his action prompted from her.

“But you're such a cute little thing. Really, I could just eat you up.” He chuckled, running his finger along their body until he tipped their chin up, the point of his claw just barely touching their skin. They shuddered, gills flaring anxiously—eat them? Surely it was just an exaggeration-

But after a moment he grinned, revealing needle-like teeth that made their blood run cold. “In fact…”

She yelped as his hand suddenly closed around her, holding her up closer to his face as she squirmed. Damn it- she should have stayed put, not gotten distracted by that damn light. “No- I- let me go!”

His hold was tight enough she couldn't wiggle free, arms pinned by his fingers and tail fin just barely poking out, but not tight enough to hurt though. Even as he lifted her to his face despite her protests.

With a low hum he opened his mouth wide, sharp teeth parting to give them a far too close view of the inside of his maw. There were a few spots of bioluminescence inside, pulsing softly as if beckoning them in. His grip on them loosened slightly, and for a brief moment they hoped to escape, but he simply shifted his hold on them before shoving them unceremoniously into his jaws.

Teeth snapped shut behind her with a definitive clack, and for a moment she sat there stunned before his tongue moved beneath her, abruptly pinning her to the roof of his mouth. The water surrounding her started to drain, and she gasped as she was abruptly forced to switch to air breathing. The sound of him swallowing made her shudder, shoving her hair out of her face and trembling in terror.

He wouldn't be able to hear their calls if they weren't in water—it didn't travel as well above the surface, and they had no way of knowing if he knew human speech. He'd effectively silenced them with hardly any effort, and all they could do was wait—their claws weren't sharp enough to do any damage, and they didn't have any other spines or defenses-

He licked her, jarring her from her thoughts and making her flail and sputter. For a brief moment she'd wondered if he was just planning to hold her in his mouth, but the sudden activity dashed that faint hope. A low, pleased rumble surrounded her as she squirmed and shoved at his tongue, making her shudder at the implication—he was tasting her, and apparently liked it.

After a few moments he pressed them to the roof of his mouth again, head angled towards his throat—which they could unfortunately see quite well, with the spots of bioluminescence in his mouth. “No!” They shouted, writhing desperately but unable to move much before he opened his mouth again and swallowed them with a torrent of water.

His throat was hot and tight, pinning her arms to her sides and forcing her deeper into his body despite her squirming. It felt like an eternity, powerful muscles squeezing and shoving her past the thumping of his heart and the dull rush of water through his gills before she was finally dropped into an open space, once again lit with bioluminescent flecks. Splashing into a pool of water, she yelped, bubbles trailing from her mouth and gills as she re-adjusted to breathing water. An amused chuckle surrounded her as she flailed, trying to reorient herself.

At least there was enough water for them to call. “Let me out!” They cried, shoving and clawing at the fleshy walls surrounding them. Their claws weren't very sharp, but they doubted it felt very good—a suspicion confirmed as they were suddenly squeezed in place and prevented from moving by the muscles tensing around them.

“You're not as fast as I am, little minnow. I'd rather not be waiting around for you to catch up.” The leviathan rumbled, making her pause her attempts at struggling.

“... What?”

“Would you rather I let you exhaust yourself swimming after me? Or risk getting snatched up as someone's snack? Not all deep dwellers are welcoming to your kind, minnow.”

That made even less sense. “Oh, ‘protect’ me from ending up as food by eating me yourself. Sure.” She snapped, wriggling enough to get her arm out of the uncomfortable position it had been stuck in. He let out a short series of exasperated clicks before she was suddenly released from the tight squeeze, letting out a startled yelp as she practically fell back to the bottom of his stomach.

“Your head really is full of seaweed, isn't it?” He hummed, a brief area of pressure resting on them for a moment. “You're just in storage, minnow.”

… What?

They paused, flicking their tail in confusion. The water didn't look or taste strange, and the only opening was above them… was he telling the truth? They couldn't feel anything, and when they reached out to touch the walls they just felt slimy, no tingling or burning on their skin.

“You couldn't have told me that before- before making me think I was gonna die?” She responded, sounding a little shaky. The leviathan rumbled softly, as something pressed against her again—his hand, maybe?

“I could have. But you wouldn't have squirmed as much, and it felt so nice.” She swatted the side of his storage-stomach with her tail, letting out an indignant noise. “But you're safe, minnow. You're lucky you ended up in my territory, I'm not one to make a meal of something that can talk back. Unlike some other leviathans…” An odd shiver went through her surroundings, as if he'd shuddered at the thought.

“Oh.” They twisted to curl up on themself, wrapping their arms around their tail nervously.

“Do you have a name, little minnow?” He asked, the bioluminescent flecks surrounding them brightening slightly. For a moment they paused, unsure if they could answer—they couldn't remember much, after all, certainly not why they were in the open ocean on their own—before something came to them.

“Phoenix.” It sounded like a name, and she liked it. “You?”

“Phoenix.” He hummed, repeating it slowly as if savoring it much like he had the rest of her. “Interesting. My name is Juniper. What were you doing out here all on your own?”

Of course he would ask that. She curled in tighter on herself, fins drooping slightly in distress.

“Little minnow?”

“... I don't know. I'm lost, I think, but I don't know where I'm supposed to be.” She finally responded, sounding rather morose. Juniper went silent for a few moments, clicking softly before speaking up.

“Well, I wouldn't mind a bit of company. Especially not from such a cute little thing as you.” Their fins perked up slightly at his offer and they uncurled some, looking up towards his call.

“I... Thank you.” He might not have made the best introduction, but he hadn't hurt them, and at least hanging around a leviathan would minimize the chances of something happening to them.

“Of course. Now, make yourself comfortable, I'm going hunting.”

[lunar-writes-things]

21) Rainstorms of Joy

Despite it being almost 3 am, a bright light shone from the iconic hole to the void in the middle of the boatem village. In a carved-out nook from within stood five of the six boatem members and discussed their current problem

their essentially non-existent restraint when it came to the apple of their eyes

"For the record, this is self-destructive," Grian said and watched as Impulse and Mumbo nodded 

"For the record, I'm aware of that!" Pearl dragged her hands down her face

"For the record, I've been picturing their body draped over the sofa wearing nothing but my hat," Scar piped up and covered his face with his hat with a blush spreading from his cheeks to even the back of his neck

"For the record," Impulse started but was cut off by Mumbo who muttered 

"We're screwed." 

The group groaned in union and turned away from each other to breathe and calm down. 

"So what do we do?" Pearl asked and looked towards Impulse 

"I have no idea," He admitted and shook his head "But we gotta say something before one of us bursts." 

"What if they are uncomfortable?" Mumbo spoke up, eyebrows furrowed in worry 

"That's a good point," Grian muttered "We don't want them hating us because we wanted to go faster." 

"I mean," Mumbp started "I wouldn't mind waiting for them... Ive been waiting since season 3." 

"Yeah, You could also wait because you got the first kiss from Y/n." Scar playfully griped at Mumbo as well as the rest of boatem agreed with passionate 'yeahs!' and Mumbo adverted his gaze as a flush spread on pale cheeks  

"That wasn't planned," Mumbo weakly 

"Yeah whatever-” Grian playfully rolled his eyes “Moving on, I think we should just hang back on what we want to do. Right now, this is all about Y/n and how they feel. We don't wanna do anything that will push them away.” 

The group nodded in agreement. They would hate to push Y/n away because of their own wants 

“However,” Impulse spoke up “Relationships are a two-way street. If it's really desperate and they need to hear it then tell them. Right now, communication is key. Especially now since we’re trying something completely new for all of us. We will make mistakes but we have to trust each other and be willing to talk it out and be there.” 

The group gave each other a soft smile and crowded each other into a hug. 

“We’ll get through this.” Scar muttered “and we’ll start by including Y/n in the next conversation.” 

The group soon dispersed and scattered into their homes and bases so they could get some sleep before the sun rose 

As the sun was beginning to set, however, Y/n had gotten a letter from Scar. 

A smile bloomed on their face as they read it 

To the Angel Next door, 

You are cordially invited to a candlelight dinner at these coordinates

[125, 123, 625] at 7:30 pm

Dress is something warm and nice. 

Forever yours, Scar 

Y/n had to hold back a squeal as they read the letter 

Scar was a romantic, which was always obvious, but a handwritten letter asking them to rendezvous made Y/n’s heart race, and had a dopey grin spreading on their face. Y/n set down the letter and moved to pick out something warm to wear before going to take a shower and packing for anything that could happen. 

Two hours later Y/n was flying through the air and made their way through a mountain range when they realized the coordinates listed were close and saw a dim light flickering in a cave. Swerving suddenly, y/n headed toward the light and saw Scar at the entrance looking nervous. 

"Y/n!" His grin was brighter than the flame of the candles behind him as he rushed up to them and lifted them up in a hug as he spun "Welcome!" 

"Scar!" Y/n laughed lightly in his dizzying grip "Thanks for inviting me!" 

"I'm so glad you could come," Scar murmured and gently placed Y/n down his hand trailing down from their ribs to their hips, sending shivers down Y/n's spine 

"So glad I could make it," they said and looked towards the inside of the cave

the cave was not man-made, but Scar did cover up and roll rocks to cover up the part that lead to deeper caves and monsters. Vines and mossy cobblestone lined the walls as grass lined the floors with a paved path leading to the table which stood on stone bricks. Flowers were obviously planted in the grass but it was hidden by the long blades of green. Fairy lights hung from higher jagged stone that was smoother as it went down. The table was wooden but handmade and decorated with wonderful-looking food and candles.

all in all, it looked like Scar did everything himself

oh how it made their heat swell knowing someone would do this for them 

Scar guided Y/n to one of the two empty seats allowing his hand to gently hover over the small of their back and pulled out their chair for them

"Thank you," Y/n smiled up at him as they sat down and he pushed their chair in "So... What's all this for?" 

"I can't spend a nice with the person of my dreams?" He replied smoothly and grabbed their hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of it 

"You charmer," Y/n smiled and Scar pointed out all the food and little munchies that Y/n could eat 

An hour and some conversations later, Y/n and Scar were talking when Y/n playfully threw a grape at him when he said something silly only for it to bounce off his arm and hit the torch behind Y/n. The torch fell from its perch and on the way down lit the vines and grass below it on fire. 

"Oh my gosh!" Y/n exclaimed and stumbled to pull out their water bucket when Scar stood up and rushed toward t 

"No, No, Stay right where you are, I'll put out the fire my love!" Scar said with a panicked look on his face as he grabs a bucket of water and throws it on the fire successfully extinguishing it while making Y/n laugh out of relief "I wanna make you swoon Baby! I want to rock you with my righteous romance!" Y/n is dragged up by scar who dips them down, their laugh echoing through the cave where they were having dinner 

This smooth motherf-

"I wanna make a move darling!" Scar spun Y/n around and into their seat before sitting down himself with a cringe "But I sweating through the seat of my pants!" 

"Are you okay?" Y/n asked leaning forward, their cheeks hurting from smiling so much 

"Yeah," Scar giggled breathlessly "Do you wanna get out of here? I'll come to clean up tomorrow." 

"Okay," Y/n said softly, silently groaning. They didn't want to leave just yet "Hey... Do you remember Season 7? We had a ball to see if we could come to terms when dealing with the resistance and we danced?"

"Yeah? What about it?" Scar asked turning to look at Y/n from the mouth of the cave

"Do you remember what you said?" 

"I do," Scar said 

"Want to remind me?" Y/n asked, a smirk playing on their lips 

"I said 'One day I'm gonna take you dancing'," Scar walked towards them and grabbed them by their hips to pull them closer before he murmured into Y/n's ear 

"And I replied ' Then in my future builds I will try to make a courtyard so we can dance in the rain," Y/n replied smoothly putting their hands on his chest and staring straight into his eyes 

"Well, one day when it rains we will go dancing." Scar promised "Let's head home. It's getting late My beloved." 

"Okay," Y/n sighed and stood at the mouth of the cave with him before spreading out their wings 

Scar did the same, mechanical wings that matched his starter base and all of the wagons attached to it stretched out and began a mechanical whirring as they began to flutter and scar took lift off. 

Y/n took off as well and flew circles around him as he was taking off but once he was off the ground he rushed towards Y/n and they ran away with a shriek and thus began the chase back to boatem village where they discovered tiny droplets of rain began to fall from the heavens. 

how convenient 

"Well look at that..." Y/n trained off as they landed in the courtyard of their cathedral the quartz floor coated in a light sheen of water "I guess that's something I have to fix."

Behind them, Scar landed and looked up with a smile and silently thanked whatever god was out there before looking down at Y/n was beginning to soak through. 

"My Love?" Scar asked and held a hand out to Y/n as they turned around "May I have this dance?" 

The smile that spread across their face made scar's heart melt. It was wonderful and as big and as bright as the moon. He loved it

"I thought you would never ask," Y/n said and stepped toward him, taking his hand in theirs and placing their other hand on his shoulder while Scar placed his extra hand on their waist

He led them in a quiet song, humming with the quiet pitter-patter of the rain behind him. The two were so close to each other that their breaths mingled and Scar had whispered something Y/n couldn't hear. 

"Come again Honeydew?" Y/n asked and they felt Scar's grip on them tighten just slightly 

"Can I kiss you?" He asked softly

His eyes were so unsure and kind and Y/n could feel their heartache at the thought of him not kissing them. The rain fell around them as their gentle swaying stopped and Y/n reached up to gently cup his face and say 

"Of Course Scar. Even if you didn't ask I would love a kiss from any one of you guys." 

Scar lit up and pressed a gentle kiss to Y/n before slowing pulling back, his breathing shaky as if trying to restrain himself but after two seconds he smashed his lips against Y/n's again as he quickly dragged his hand up to cup their face, a longing sigh leaving his lips as he kissed the life out of them. When they finally pulled apart, they were gasping for breath as their foreheads leaned against each other. 

"Holy Shit do that again," Y/n whispered and Scar laughed before indulging Y/n to their hearts desire  

Masterlist

[companionjones]

Impromptu Flying Lesson

Pairing: Han Solo x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: You’re forced to fly the Falcon on a mission for the rebels. How does Han react to you not doing that well a job?

Warnings: Slight cursing, Han being an ass

*******

    “I’m not doing it.”

    “Oh yes, you are.” Han hastily climbed into the cockpit.

    “No, I’m not.”

    “Yes, you are!”

    “Han, I am not a pilot! I’m sorry, but we need to find another way out of here.”

    Solo was exasperated as he turned to you. “Y/n, my co-pilot is back there, barely alive. I, myself, have got a few mortal scrapes and bruises. Our only option is for you to climb into that pilot’s seat, and get us out of here.”

    “But Han--”

    “I said get into the pilot’s seat!” Han’s voice boomed through the cabin.

    It was enough for you to flinch. Without another thought, you followed Han’s intense order and tried your best to get the Falcon in the air.

    “No, pull up...Up! Up, Y/n!...Okay, now avoid that huge mountain right there. I said avoid. Avoid! A-VOID! Y/n! Be careful with my ship!”

    “I’m trying!”

    Han rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right...”

    It was a less than smooth flight, to say the least. It was a miracle you and Han got the Falcon back to the Rebel Base in one piece, more or less.

    Luke and Leia were waiting for you when you got back. They were there to witness Han lecturing you as you and Han helped Chewie off the Millennium Falcon.

    “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s the propulsion to go, and the brakes to stop!”

    “I know you use the brakes to stop,” you grumbled, “I’m not an idiot.”

    “Really? Because you sure looked like one up there.”

    As soon as you got Chewie into a stretcher, you turned and headed back to your quarters without sparing anyone else a glance.

    Han watched you go with a pissed-off look on his face. The only thing that got his eyes off you was Leia flicking the back of his head.

    “What is wrong with you?” she scolded the tall man, “How dare you speak to Y/n like that?”

    Solo immediately defended himself. “You should’ve seen them, Princess. They almost tore a hole through the middle of my ship!”

    Luke then cut in, “But what happened? That was supposed to be a recognisance mission.”

    “Then you might need to check that mighty force of yours, because that is not what happened.”

    Leia brought back her previous subject. “Han, you better go apologise to Y/n right now.”

    Han scoffed, “Like hell--” He was cut off by a distant and angry roar from Chewbacca. Han understood his best friend. Reluctantly, he huffed, “Fine,” and followed in your footsteps to your sleeping quarters.

    When he got there, Han stood outside your door for a few seconds as he calmed himself down. He opened his mouth to call out to you, but nothing came out because he heard your sobs from inside your room.

    The sounds made his whole body freeze up. Slowly, Han raised his fist and softly knocked on your door.

    You sniffled, “Go away, please.”

    “It’s me.”

    There was silence on the other side of the door for a bit longer than Han liked. He debated saying something else, or leaving you be, when the door opened.

    Han was met with your tear-stained face.

    “Here to yell at me again?” you questioned.

    Han didn’t respond.

    You continued, “Maybe to add one more thing to the list the length of the galaxy filled with the things that I did wrong? Maybe to--”

    Han pulled you to his chest.

    You gasped at first. Then settled against him. Then, you let a few more tears fall.

    “I was scared too,” Han admitted, “That’s why I yelled. I was scared I wouldn’t get you--us,” he corrected, “back home.”

    The two of you stood there for a few moments, you in Han’s arms.

    “We need to get you to the med bay with Chewie.”

    “I am going to teach you to fly the Falcon, if it kills me.”

    You had both spoken at the same time.

    “No way. On any planet. Am I ever getting into the cockpit of that thing again.”

    “Oh, come on! They don’t need to check me out. I’m doing fine-ugh.”

    Again, you spoke over each other.

    And so, the bickering continued. Though some (Leia) would say it was out of your caring for Han that you were yelling at him to go to the med bay, and Han was only trying to give you flying lessons to get closer to you.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you!

[skrunklybf-archived]

𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟;

summary: bertholdt loved his new little toy -- the highest tech available on the market, a brand new innovative VR set that fully taps into your senses, bringing you into whatever fantasy world you desired. the best part? the cute girl on his friends list that he just couldn't get out of his head.

pairing: bertholdt hoover x f!reader

warnings: smut, online relationship, meeting in person!, virginity loss, unprotected sex, slight praise, fluffiness, friends to lovers, partly takes place in a virtual fantasy setting

notes: heyo!! here's a little piece i loved writing, for the lovely @tadokorochann, who has the best fucking ideas i can't even deal <3 stay lovely, i hope you enjoy!!

Work had never felt so long, Bertholdt thought to himself as he eyed the little clock on his car radio. In just under an hour, he'd be ready to jump into his favorite hobby and spend time with his favorite person. It was the perfect set-up for blowing off steam. The shit day answering calls and dealing with angry customers weighed on his shoulders heavily, but none of that would matter once he was home.

He scarfed down an unimpressive dinner. He showered, even fixed his hair to be presentable despite the fact that nobody would even see it -- perhaps it was a slightly nervous habit, but it didn't matter -- Bertholdt was ready to see you.

Even if it wasn't... you, exactly, it still was, in a way.

A familiar melody chimed in his ear upon donning the headset. Swirls of color lifted to life in front of his eyes, bright and harmonious. Bertholdt relaxed back into his aging gaming chair and let the giddy smile consume his face.

Everyone needs a hobby, right? Something to fill the void. Bertholdt certainly did, when he ordered the newest VR set on the market almost a year ago. The tech was groundbreaking; fully immersive like nothing else before it, and all-encompassing to the senses. It was really something amazing to experience (even if it burned a pretty little hole in his wallet) and quickly became part of his nightly ritual, keeping him up way longer than his body appreciated.

The biggest and most popular game available for such new technology enraptured him immediately: Planes of Eldia, a high-fantasy MMORPG that plopped you right in the middle of a massive world filled to the brim with strange creatures, breathtaking scenery, and, of course, no shortage of players to aid or hinder your journey.

It was his first week of playing when he met you.

Bertholdt wandered himself around the cute, quaint village his avatar lived in, eventually picking up a little fetch-quest from the inn-keeper to go collect some rare mushroom that only grows in a certain cave outside of town. He figured it'd be easy enough. Such missions were standard fare for the fantasy games he was accustomed to.

Lush grass licked at his calves as he walked, cool and dewy against the thin fabric of his low-level gear. He could hear birds chirping in the trees; a river running not far away; the coo and caw of mythical creatures that made these kinds of woods their home. Bertholdt eyed the barely noticeable gap in the tree line up ahead. He was closing in on his destination.

Traversing the forest had been too calm. Palm-sized, scaly beasts bawked and took flight if he drew too near. Fuzzy mouse-like creatures scurried themselves up the trees to avoid his booted feet. Nothing even spared him a glance as he passed by, weaving his way between impossibly tall trees until the thick of it finally broke into a rather bare clearing. The grass was dotted sparsely with tiny pastel flowers. It led like a trail up to a dark, eerie crack skirting along the side of the mountain before him. Bertholdt eyed the scene. He took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of the ocean not far away, reeling at the way the wind brushed at his hair and nipped his cheeks.

He figured it'd be easy enough, but he quickly realized he was out of his element -- quite literally. Right as his fingers brushed along the thin cave mouth, a flurry of tiny, winged creatures burst from the darkness in a powerful stream, knocking his avatar back on his ass. A cacophony of screeches and caws grated harshly through the air as they swarmed, enough to make his teeth ache and grit strangely in his mouth. Laid out, defenseless, Bertholdt slapped his hands over his ears, but it did little to drown out the relentless screaming surrounding him and draining the health bar hovering over his head.

He closed his eyes. Surely he'd wake up in his virtual bed soon, pockets a little lighter after suffering the respawn fee -- but the swirling dark clouds that accompanied the 'dying' mechanic didn't take over his vision as he'd expected.

"Dude, what are you doing?!"

A savior in mismatched armor, a diamond among the rough tree line.

"You don't even have any ranged abilities yet. You gotta pick up a crossbow or something, man, you're fucked against stuff like this!"

The first time he met you, you saved his ass. And you never let him forget about it, either.

It was months ago when he made his first friend in Planes of Eldia, who just so happened to be a sweet, higher-level mage. You didn't mind gifting him gear and weapons, you didn't mind escorting him through quests you'd already completed. Bertholdt felt babied by this objectively better player, utterly dwarfed in skill and abilities, but you never minded.

You were cute -- well, your avatar was cute, he had to remind himself. He felt drawn to you in embarrassing ways. Whenever he'd log on, he'd check to see if you were also online. He'd travel to your avatar's home a few villages away, feeling much like a nervous teenager when he knocked on the door. It was just a game, he had to remind himself.

Just a game.

Eventually, you two played nearly every day together. It became a ritual of sorts: Bertholdt would get off work, put on the headset, and you'd almost always be waiting. The gentle greetings and little laughs were a symphony to his ears. So many nights stretched far too long, sometimes not even getting anything done in the game. Hours of just talking felt like minutes when it meant he could lie in a field of grass next to you.

"You... you have an online girlfriend?" Reiner had smirked at him from across the table one night, amusement dancing behind his golden gaze. Bertholdt blanched, nearly choking over his beer. "No, no! She's just... a friend, on the game, who happens to be a girl," he sputtered and glanced away. The restaurant surrounding them felt too quiet for the friendly conversation to take such an embarrassing turn. Distant forks scraped against plates and patrons chatted to one another, yet Bertholdt felt like he was trapped in a closet with his oldest friend, pressed into an inescapable corner. He picked at a fry on his plate absently.

The blonde arched a brow, clearly inquisitive after that reaction. "Well, you sure spend a lot of time together. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," he hummed and paused to take a bite of his meal, "I finally pin you down and now I feel like I know everything about this... friend."

The sound of phone chimes suddenly broke into their space -- three dings, back to back -- and Bertholdt stiffened in place. A hole was burning in his pocket and anyone half blind could see it. Reiner blinked at him and the curious way he molded into a rather ghoulish statue under the dim lighting. "...Don't tell me that's her."

"Okay, I won't."

"Bert, buddy," Reiner swiped the back of his hand across his mouth a little unceremoniously, clearly loosening up after his third beer, "listen. You like her, don't you?"

The brunette didn't reply, instead choosing to take an inappropriately massive bite of the burger he'd been neglecting. He started talking earlier and didn't notice the rapid pace that took over him, words simply spilling from his usually timid mouth at breakneck speed, dripping with puppy-like excitement. It was rather unusual, Reiner noticed immediately, but he simply grinned and soaked in the gleefulness radiating from his friend.

Bertholdt looked guilty, but really, he felt torn.

He knew the answer to Reiner's question. Of course he liked this girl, how could he not? The connection was nearly instant and completely automatic. He'd always been a rather shy individual, finding it hard to communicate and find a comfortable space around others. People were intimidating. People were confusing.

But you were kind. You were sweet, you made him laugh, you looked at him like he held no flaws.

Maybe it was naive of him, a man in his twenties falling for someone over the internet like some lost puppy, someone he had never met in person. Naive or not, he knew what Reiner was going to say -- it was written all over his face, that slightly wry smirk slipping into a rather tight line.

"Do you know what she sounds like?" The blonde asked next. Bertholdt nodded and swallowed, not really tasting the food in his awkward reverie.

"We talk every day."

"And she... sounds like a girl?"

Okay, maybe he didn't quite know what Reiner was thinking. He assumed there'd be some light ribbing, not an entire interrogation.

"Yes. God, Reiner, what are you getting at?"

The man across from him held his hands up in a show of defense, dipping his head a tad. "I'm just saying, there are some weirdos out there, man!" he flicked his golden gaze over Bertholdt, calculating his next words carefully. "Do you know what she looks like?"

"Yeah," he replied quickly, but faltered after a moment of thought. "Well... I guess not. I haven't asked for a picture or anything."

Reiner laid his palms flat on the table. A steady look washed over his relaxed face. "Bert," he said sternly. His name never felt heavier coming from Reiner's mouth. The brunette shook his head, heat rising to the tips of his ears.

"W-Who cares what she looks like? She's my friend, we just play games together, nothing else."

Except, there was something else. He'd just rather keel over on his plate before admitting it to the skeptical mass of muscle across from him.

Bertholdt remembered the first time he felt a line had been blurred, past the casual flirting and prolonged eye contact that was so beautifully normal for you two.

Digital stars hung in the sky, twinkling little holes punched behind a swirl of pastel colors, painted like careful brush strokes. That particular corner of the gigantic map was your favorite. The sky was always dark, but the gentle glow from the aurora above served as the perfect night light. Soft blues and greens lit up your cheeks and glistened in your eyes. Bertholdt felt dizzy watching you, felt his breath nearly sucked from his lungs when the realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

It was just a game, sure, but he was smitten. The avatar sitting at his side was just that: a character.

But when you -- your digital form -- laid your head on his shoulder, he could feel the pressure. He could feel the heat radiating from you, feel the butterflies in his belly.

He knew he was in deep.

"Have you ever seen something so pretty where you live?" you asked, tone dreamy and voice soft. Bertholdt shook his head gently without needing much thought.

"It's pretty boring where I'm from, honestly. Not much to do around here," he replied. Briefly, he thought about you, most likely sitting thousands of miles away in some city he's never heard of. He thought about what your daily life might consist of, outside this magical realm you traversed together nightly.

It became easier to be bold in this virtual setting, no matter how real it felt. Bertholdt slowly snaked an arm around your form and let his fingers ghost over your waist, something he'd be petrified to do in person.

"Ugh, me too. I visited Paradis with some friends last year, and it was so fun. Made me super jealous that my town is just so... bland, even if it's not that far away."

Bertholdt looked down at you. "Not far from Paradis?" he asked. A sense of excitement leaked into his words, one he hoped you didn't catch onto.

"Yeah. It's like, a ferry ride away."

No fucking way.

Bertholdt straightened himself. Suddenly, the hilltop you two lazed on felt sky-high, his heart catapulting into a slightly frenzied state. "Do you live around Liberio, maybe?" he asked, a little shake in his voice.

He could tell he caught you off guard with the way you snapped up to look at him. The answer was plain as day, but the satisfaction of hearing you confirm it felt too delicious to pass up. "No fucking way," was all you said, but it was music to his ears, easily stealing the breath from his lungs.

The VR was revolutionary, impeccable and immersive, allowing you to feel everything your character would -- almost everything, anyway. Bertholdt knew his actual heart was threatening to burst in his chest. He knew he was probably sweating in his gaming chair, and he knew Reiner would have a field day with this information if he ever caught wind. What the brunette didn't know, though, was how real it would feel when you planted a kiss on his cheek.

Not just the sensation -- of course he'd feel it, he felt everything that touched him -- but the implications behind it. You were a real person, somewhere not far from him, someone he absolutely adored, and you had kissed him. On purpose, no less.

At least he wasn't crazy like Reiner inadvertently made him out to be. It wasn't all in his head. All the hours spent together, all the late nights, all the texts that made him glow while he was supposed to be working... it wasn't nothing. It wasn't silly, it wasn't weird. It was real. You were real, somewhere, and he needed to settle some things before he went insane from self-doubt.

Despite his outward skepticism, Reiner was a good friend, with good intentions. Bertholdt knew it all came from a place of love, even if it left a sour taste in his mouth sometimes, which is why he even allowed this Scooby-Doo-level scheme to transpire in the first place.

The cafe was quiet, but not empty. A few students dotted the tables, typing away on laptops. A little group of women clad in athletic gear chatted amicably just a few seats away. Bertholdt tried to sip away his nerves, the coffee burning his mouth in his haste. A new text tore his gaze away from the front door he'd been burning a hole in for the past five minutes.

Reiner: You look like you're about to shit yourself

He rolled his olive-colored eyes, shooting a pointed glare at the blonde sitting not-so-casually across the building. Reiner tilted his head with a grin before biting his croissant.

The blonde came as backup, a safety net in case things went horribly wrong with this... date? Would you even call it a date? Maybe it'd be too forward to assume. Sure, he'd held your hand; you've hugged plenty of times; you've kissed his cheek, and he's kissed your forehead. But this was all virtual, Reiner was quick to chirp in.

Truthfully, Bertholdt wasn't sure what to expect as he waited anxiously. What if things were painfully awkward? What if he didn't know what to say, what if he clammed up like he tended to do in social situations, and you thought he was some weirdo from the internet?

What if you didn't even show up?

Reiner: This is taking forever

Bertholdt heaved a sigh, staring at the phone laid on the table. As much as it pained him, he agreed with the sentiment, nerves frayed like a man on death row. What a painful, mortifying mistake this could be. What a--

"Bertholdt?"

He must've missed the door chime, must've missed the little gasp hidden behind the fit of self-depreciation he'd immersed himself in because he certainly missed the girl that walked cautiously up to his table and stood before him. Wide eyes slid up your form to settle on your face -- your strikingly familiar face that he'd actually never seen before, except, he has.

Just... digitally.

You looked exactly like your avatar, which came as a stark surprise. People usually embellish their characters, making them wildly more interesting or attractive to live their best fantasy life -- but you, standing a little ways away with your fingers fiddling at your sleeves -- you were so familiar, it made his chest ache and stomach flip dangerously.

He managed to mumble out your name, disbelief accidentally dripping from the syllables. A jovial smile crept over your cheeks, hidden by the hand you slapped over your mouth rather quickly. "No way, no way," you muttered, voice raised an octave in what he hoped was excitement.

Any sense of confidence he held in your little virtual world completely dashed away, knowing how stunning you actually were in person. He suddenly felt bashful, hot prickles rising under his skin as he stood up.

"Woah, you're really tall," you gawked, staring up at him with a gleam in your eye.

Reiner let his mouth hang in subtle disbelief as he watched the scene play out. He'd suggested the plan in wholesome concern, fully expecting to console his heartbroken friend over a few beers and maybe a little shit-talking session -- never in a million years did he expect a beautiful girl to waltz in, let alone bury her face in Bertholdt's chest as he timidly wrapped his arms around her. The two men made eye contact from across the cafe, sharing the moment of shock.

Reiner was a good friend -- he knew when to make himself sparse.

"Sorry I'm-- I'm really nervous, to be honest," the man before you said breathily, swiping his hands over his jeans. You'd felt how stiff he was during your hug, the energy radiating off of him like a live wire. As incredibly flattering as it was, it also fed your anxiety, making your hands shake just the slightest bit, but you laughed it off, enraptured by the adorable blush dusting his cheeks. "That's okay, I am, too," you replied gently, trying your best to even out your tone.

Bertholdt looked down at his drink. Something clicked, making him jump a little bit. "I'm so sorry, c-can I buy you a coffee?"

Your stomach fluttered, unable to look away from him. "I'd love that, thank you, Bertie," the nickname slipped out so easily, but it nearly threw him on the ground, his face and neck now a deep red.

"It's no problem, anything for you."

You weren't sure what you were expecting from this little plan. To any outsider, it was undeniably risky -- meeting up with some guy from the internet, alone. The fact that he asked you to choose the destination was a good sign in your eyes, though, as if you personally needed more reassurance... despite not knowing him in real life (yet), you knew there couldn't be a malicious bone in Bertholdt's body. The man was honey personified, extremely respectful in all of your interactions thus far, even when the playful banter turned a little less than platonic.

As he sat across from you, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, you knew he was a shy thing; the way he would bounce his gaze between you and his drink made you squirm with adoration. Nobody else in that little cafe felt relevant as you talked, minutes slipping away until the sun began to dip behind buildings outside.

How long had you been there? The parking meter certainly needed to be fed, or you got slapped with a ticket already, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Your favorite person and the only man on your mind for the past year or so was finally in front of you, laughing at lame little anecdotes and strange stories from your life as if you were the most interesting person in the world. It felt so normal, so natural, it's like you hadn't had the wind knocked out of you just hours before.

"It's getting late," you said suddenly, sighing into the empty space inside your cup. Bertholdt glanced out the window, blinking in surprise. "I guess so," he replied, "I didn't even notice."

You smiled coyly. "I take it you're enjoying yourself?"

"More than I'd like to admit." The brunette ran a hand through his hair, all but forcing you to take note of the prominent veins that ran up his forearm, hiding under the rolled sleeves at his elbows. He'd dressed so nicely, it made you swoon inside. "Well... okay, call me crazy--"

"You're crazy, but so am I, because I already agree with whatever you're going to say," you found yourself leaning across the table, eyeing him with a heated, curious gaze.

Bertholdt chuckled -- a deep, rumbly noise that lit a fire under you. "Don't agree too quickly, you'll get my hopes up. I was just wondering... would it be weird if we, I dunno," he looked away shyly, fiddling with the long-empty cup between you both, "spent some more time together tonight?"

At your grin, he flushed deep again. Oh, how adorable this giant, bashful teddy bear was.

"I-I mean, like, maybe a movie or something? I'm sorry if it's weird. I just... I've had a lot of fun, I really like being around you, and I don't want today to be over."

Reaching over, you laid a hand over his, nothing but syrupy sweetness in your voice, "I'd love that, Bertie."

He really should've cleaned. It's not often he has guests in his apartment, let alone gorgeous women, so the space seemed embarrassingly lackluster as Bertholdt guided you inside and flicked on the lights. "Sorry for the mess," he mumbled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, and you waved him off immediately, muttering a playful 'shush, you're fine' in reply.

It's not like he could've predicted bringing you back home. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if he'd be meeting you at all -- and now, there you were, curiously gazing at a few framed photos hanging on his entryway wall. You looked utterly adorable, smiling at the image he knew to be his graduation day; he stood side by side with Reiner, red gowns draped over them and wide smiles plastered on their faces. "You look so cute here," you cooed, a sense of adoration dripping from your lips.

Bertholdt chuckled meekly. His stomach was tying knots around itself at a rapid pace. "Thanks. You look cute, too," he replied before he could think it over.

"Oh, do I?"

"Y-Yeah, stunning, actually."

The air felt heavier as you looked at him, your hands drawn together before you, lips pursed in the cutest half pout he'd ever seen.

Bertholdt was never good with women. He could feel himself crack under your gaze, nervous energy surging him further into his apartment in a feeble attempt at diffusing the tension he depicted as discomfort. "S-So, make yourself at home," he cleared his throat and set his keys on the granite countertop separating the kitchen from the living room.

Truthfully, you were on cloud nine. Despite only just meeting him (formally, anyways), your mind wandered to dangerous territory as soon as he sheepishly brought up extending your night. All these emotions that had built up for so long were finally coming to a head, in one way or another, and the need to explore it outweighed your frazzled nerves.

Fuck, it felt good when he complimented you. It felt good when he looked at you; it made you feel whole, complete, admired for everything you were. There was something so different about having that deep emotional connection before any inkling of physical attraction -- but that was most definitely there, too, burning deep in your belly and making your thighs squirm a bit.

His couch had never felt more comfortable than it did with you snuggled on it. It was impeccable, really, how smooth everything seemed to go despite how devastatingly nervous he was inside. Part of him wanted to text Reiner, maybe to gloat just a little bit, to revel in how he finally felt wanted by a beautiful girl that just so happened to lean into his side so casually it was like she was made to be there.

But, no, Bertholdt couldn't tear himself away from the moment, even for all the satisfaction that blabbing to the blonde might bring.

You hummed, utterly content in this mans hold, your core swirling as he rubbed little circles into your arm. His smell was intoxicating, something so clean and masculine and new but it felt so comfortable, so familiar in a strange way. How odd of a feeling, to be enamored with someone for so long and finally be able to feel them under your fingertips, take in their scent, even taste them if you so chose.

The thought brought electricity to life under your skin.

The movie still played idly on the TV, though truthfully, nobody was paying attention. Bertholdt realized this when he chanced a peek down, being met with a heavy gaze through thick lashes. His heart hammered in his ears.

"Hi," he breathed, so easily sucked into the beauty pressed against his side.

"Hi," you mirrored, nearly purring once he squeezed you closer, your head falling naturally against his chest. An experimental hand laid across his abdomen, spurring surprise at how toned he felt under the soft cotton. "This okay?" you cooed gently.

Bertholdt sucked in a sharp breath, feeling himself tense up as your fingers explored the peaks and valleys of his stomach. "Y-Yeah, that's okay," he watched you closely, deathly curious to see exactly what was happening before him.

"Bertie?"

The way you said that little nickname always made him melt. Though you could probably call him anything and he'd be quick to swoon.

"Mhm?"

With a tilt of his head, you leveraged yourself to lean up his torso and plant your lips across his own, eyes fluttering shut before you could spy the way his face immediately flamed up. Bertholdt's body lit up in record time, his skin searing and mind reeling -- it took a few seconds before he pulled together and leaned into you, but the action was eager, needy, incredibly charged. The sound of your lips working against each other overpowered the film, but was barely a thought in his mind over the subconscious screaming your intimate affections spurred in him. Embarrassingly enough, with a few swipes of your tongue against his, he could feel his dick growing harder and harder, just inches away from where your hand now played under his shirt. The man groaned softly into your mouth, worming his hand up to brush your hair away in utter adoration.

You pressed your thighs together, the fire between them becoming overwhelming as his hands curiously began to roam over you. He was so gentle, so cautious -- you leaned yourself further into him, shifting your hand down to grasp his thigh, but gasped into his mouth when you accidentally brushed over his bulge.

"S-Sorry," he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, "I'm... you're really pretty, and I just really like you--" it was Bertholdt's turn to gasp when you palmed him through his jeans, pressing down with teasing force.

"Don't be sorry," a catlike grin spread over your plump lips, "I don't mind at all. I really like you too, y'know." You bumped your nose against his in a sweet little nuzzle, completely eating up how his breathing quickened with your gentle rubbing. A few short, involuntary jerks from his hips completely fed your ego, ushering away any nerves that threatened to fray in the heated moment.

"Is it okay if I...?" he pressed his forehead to yours, finally prying his eyes open to watch you, uncertainty laying heavy in his green gaze. A coy giggle spilled out in all your excitement, taking his hand and pressing it against your chest, kneading a little bit for extra measure. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you could feel his cock twitch.

A cute hitch caught in his throat when your hand fell away from his, his guide lost. "I... um," he pressed against the soft swell curiously, "h-honestly, I'm not the most experienced."

You pecked his lips, heart swooning when he eagerly pecked back. " 's okay, Bertie, neither am I."

"Really?"

Playfully, you squeezed at his hard length. An unmistakable tingle pooled in your core when he slipped a delectable moan against your kiss-swollen lips.

"Really. But I feel so... comfortable with you. I'm down to try some things out, if you are," your words were honey, and he was soaking up every bit he could, his heart utterly slamming against its poor cage. Bertholdt nodded eagerly, eyes falling shut again with a hard swallow. "Y-Yeah, yeah, I'd like that, a lot," the slight quiver in his voice made you notice the throb between your legs.

Bertholdt was so addicting in every sense. The smell of his sheets gripped you, pulled you in, made you think about how gruff his morning voice would sound or how cute he'd look with sloppy chocolate bedhead. It was almost too perfect, how at ease you felt under his careful touch. The incredibly flustered look splayed over his face once his cock was freed sent you into a horny tizzy -- it was perfect, if a little intimidating: long, flushed at the tip, drooling precum as it hung heavy between his toned thighs.

"I-I've thought about this a lot," he breathed, saddling himself between your bare legs, "it doesn't feel real. You're so gorgeous, so perfect," he shyly traced his thumb up and down your drooling lips, mesmerized by the sheer amount of wetness pooling already. "I'm so fucking glad you're here with me."

Electric jolts shot through you once he found your clit, swollen and needy and begging to be played with. Instinct made your legs squeeze together around him, even if all your lust-riddled brain wanted was to open up as wide as you possibly could for more of his delicate touch. Bertholdt watched in near astonishment as you writhed under his hold, one hand settled gingerly on your thigh and the other rubbing sweet circles against your hot button.

Succulent moans slipped from your lips, giving him the biggest confidence boost in the world. "Keep doing that," you cooed, "feels s'good," eyes fluttering shut, your head nudged back against his pillows in a state of bliss. He listened obediently, swirling your clit, and pressed his silky cockhead against your heat. With all your juices nearly dripping out of you, he barely needed any pressure before he was slipping between your lips, the new sensation sending shivers down his spine. "F-Fuck," he hissed quietly, even more pre dribbling out in his excitement. Needy, nearly throbbing, you wriggled your hips against him.

"More, need more," you whined.

"You want more?" the brunette breathed, rocking against you, dipping just the very tip of his cock inside and pulling out again. "Please," came your desperate reply, "please fuck me, Bertie."

The request alone nearly made him cum. With a groan, Bertholdt urged himself further at a careful pace, faltering a tad but not relenting on your sensitive little clit. Stretching around him, the unique sensation left you a bubbling mess, gripping onto his forearms hard enough to leave little crescent moons along the lightly tanned skin. "A-Am I hurting you?" he gasped, pausing mid-thrust and leaving only half his long cock inside, despite how desperately he wanted to bury himself all at once. He wanted to get lost in you, in your warmth, your wetness, but not at the sake of your comfort. Feverishly, your head thrashed side to side, eyes popping open to catch his hazy gaze. " 's okay, I'm okay, I promise."

"Want you to feel good," his chest, slick with a light sheen of sweat, heaved so deliciously. It looked like he was falling apart at the seams. "Are you ready? C-Can I keep going?"

You bit your lip. Such a sweet fucking man, towering over you in all your indecency, tripping over himself to make sure you were alright. With a little mewl, you raised your hips, sucking in more of his hard dick. "More, more," you begged, "want you t'fill me up..."

It was all he needed, a strained little moan accompanying his push into you. Pelvis to pelvis, Bertholdt couldn't believe the sight in front of him. The woman he'd been hopelessly in love with, splayed out on his sheets, face twisted up in pleasure that he was more than willing to provide. It was real, you were real -- the pressure in his lower belly was absolutely real, coiling aggressively fast as he slid in and out of your wet pussy. The sensation was addicting, he decided, your gooey insides massaging him so perfectly it was hard to stop, and even harder to keep himself contained. "Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, forcing his eyes shut as he tried to find a rhythm between hip thrusts and messing with your clit. The circles grew sloppy, but he couldn't find it in himself to correct it, every moment drawing him closer and closer to release. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bertholdt gasped, his hips stuttering along with his words, " 'm so close," he nearly whined, completely in love with the way your body sucked him in so greedily. Your hands found their way to his chest, lightly scratching down to his abs, tipping closer and closer to your own orgasm with his delicious words and needy moans. " 'm I gonna make you cum, pretty boy?"

The brunette lost the battle, that coil inside him completely snapping under your sticky sweet words -- muttering incoherent praises, Bertholdt hung his head as he came, thrusting deep inside you to bury himself as far as he could. A tiny bit of sense knocked back into him with your wiggling, enough to pick up the pace on your clit while his cock eased in and out of you slowly, riding out the tail end of his orgasm and feeding your own.

Clenching, spasming, your cunt sucked onto him desperately, a silent cry falling out of you and sucking all the air out of your lungs. This was so incredibly different than cumming against your own fingers, hitting so much deeper and scratching an itch you didn't know you had until Bertholdt satisfied it so intensely. "So good, so fucking good," he panted, easing himself out of you once your muscles began to relax.

The glow that settled over you both was intoxicating. His room felt hot, heavy, as if there wasn't enough oxygen for your needy lungs as you tried to recover with shaky legs. He laid beside you, trying to muddle through the wave of emotions crashing against him as he gazed at your breathless form in his bed.

"Thank you," Bertholdt said rather innocently, pressing his nose into your messy hair.

You giggled. "Thank you, what an excellent host you've been."

"My pleasure," he sighed. It felt like he just ran one of Reiner's impossible marathons, leaving his muscles weak and brain foggy.

"Yeah, speaking of... do you mind if I use your shower?" your thighs pressed together, acutely aware of his cum threatening to dribble out of you. A strange sense of pride coupled with slight sheepishness filled his chest when he realized what you meant, agreeing immediately and taking you on a little tour of his apartment, starting with the bathroom.

"So, you do have an online girlfriend."

Reiner was looking rather smug, leaning against his forearms on Bertholdt's counter. He studied the little photobooth strip of you both stuck to the fridge as the brunette rummaged around in it. Bert looked happy, kissing your cheek in one of the squares, beaming in the next.

"Not just online," the taller man mused, "she's coming over later, so don't make a mess."

Almost like a proud parent, Reiner straightened and grinned, playfully dusting off the spot he just occupied. "Alright, alright," he mused, not missing the way Bertholdt smiled so effortlessly as he crossed the kitchen. It was refreshing to see him so happy. "I'll get out of your hair. You have fun on your little date."

Waving him off, Bertholdt grinned into the sink as he washed the vegetables for your dinner that night.

You were real. Not just you as a person, not just your feelings for him -- you two, as the inseparable berserker and mage duo -- your connection was real, infallible, undeniable.

God, he loved that damn VR headset.

[ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm]

wip whatever day

something from my very elaborate expanded draco-in-mundane-apocalypses universe. the rest of fic has a lot of game theory and mountain goats references

On Tuesday afternoon, the entire state of Florida sank into the ground. Not at all slowly, like quicksand, but in a manner more akin to swallowing, to a vacuum without an air lock or something pulled in on a lizard's tongue. Draco was at work when it happened and all but one of the wall-mounted television screens interrupted their various sports broadcasts to live feeds of affiliate stations, footage of men and women in suits doing their best to keep straight faces while plugging in words like vanished and unclear and contact and grid. Draco was in the middle of scanning the slips from the morning shift - most of them Nascar and the Icelandic Counter Strike league when all the screens flickered in clunky synchrony, drew his eyes up from his work. There's nothing you can film when something disappears, so the b-roll was an odd collage of people standing on state lines outlined by a yawning void, of fences and highways cut off like string, of loops of CCTV that stops like someone switched off the lights. The shop was empty, had been since he'd kicked out the regular huddle of truant teenagers and would be until the 5pm rush.

Draco reacted the way he usually does to catastrophe, which is to say he did nothing at all except feel the small muscles running along the vertebrae of his neck tense, the way they do when someone brings up tendons and cutting throats. A delicate tap to the tiled floor beneath - still there. A glance through the window - the grey afternoon untouched. One of the Sky Sports channels had switched to the news and the news presenter was wearing the same glasses as someone in a split-screen on CNN. One of the screens showed footage from the gulf of mexico, a fishing boat on the water, but the water was sliced clean through with black. It would have been 11am in Tallahassee, said the big LED clock on the wall. It was funny to see the name on the wall, Miami somewhere slightly higher up. There were seismological readings coming in on some of the screens now, 3D visualisations and graphs that plummeted down and then shot right back up. None of them seemed to mean anything, as far as anyone knew. There was a neon globe spinning on RAI 2, the same as always except for one glaring hole. When Draco was little, before the world expanded dramatically and then reduced to this little life of lockboxes and betting slips and freezer-friendly meals, he was taught about the old wizarding conception of the world. His governess taught him that it was once believed that the globe was full of itself in reverse, like a dome collapsing, like a reciprocal fraction. That it was how they made sense of un-being, of vanishing spells - a thing that cancels itself out, hidden somewhere deep under the core.

There was a live feed from the white house now on every screen, staffers scurrying around a podium no one was stood at yet. A brief pain shot through the muscles in his left palm, right by the wrist, bone deep and startling. Fear, understanding, certainty, doom and then - he'd been leaning against the clunky keyboard, pressing down too hard. The world sharpened, sounds and colors coming in at the end of a release of pressure, humming like a tuning fork. A cacophony of ding-s and abberated notifications was ringing out from the computer, from whatever processes he'd accidentally triggered. A dry noise outside broke through the sound.

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 4

... Skeppies- not in his house... he was in his mansion. Now he is in a mine. That’s not normal, or shouldn't be normal. Who knows what’s normal really. “I reject normal,” He muttered to himself before turning and yelling down the mineshaft “Baaaaaad... Very funny Bad!” He started back down the mine shaft, Bad had to be hiding around a corner up here somewhere. “How did you do it?... Bad?” No response “Bad! Stop hiding already, I know you’re there.” 

Wait, what was this. Skeppy stopped and squinted at the mineshaft walls. He’s a literal diamond, Skeppy knows a thing or two about rocks, and this was a rock he had never seen before. The whole wall was made up of large patches of this dark scaly stone. He knocked his knuckles against it, his diamond skin barely scratching it. “What the hell?” He said and was disappointed when Bad didn't interrupt with his typical ‘language.’ This gave him an idea. He cursed louder. Still silence. Skeppy frowned. Maybe Bad really wasn’t there. 

“Well, I'm leaving now. Last chance.” Still nothing. There was a sinking feeling in Skeppy’s chest. Bad wasn’t there. If this wasn’t a prank then what was this. Skeppy hurried down the mineshaft wasting no time in finding the ladder and climbing out into the sunlight. He exited the little house at the top only glancing back down the mine shaft once through the glass floor. He came out on the edge of a bay, mountains and trees behind him. There was some dirt scaffolding laid out in a massive square across the water, and a nether portal and some chests could be seen on a tiny island in the distance.  

He blinked at it for a minute and then Skeppy did what he always did when he didn’t know what to do. He started yelling.

“Hey yooo! Anyone, there!? Anyone out there?! Hellooooo, I’m talking to you!?” His voice echoed back to him and the water lapped softly against the beach. Skeppy scowled “Well, if you don’t want to be friendly then I’ll just leave. How about that? You hear me? I’m leaving, never returning. Not coming back.” He shouted for the benefit of any hypothetical hiding onlookers as he marched into the forest and started climbing the hill. 

The forest quickly thinned and the hill became more of a cliff, and soon he was climbing over rocky boulders and through flat patches of blue-green grass with the occasional grazing sheep. He came over the next hill and stopped short. The mountain dropped off in front of him and in the plain below looked to be some kind of a village. He squinted; a collective of houses built around what looked to be some kind of pole. 

He heard a bleating sound behind him and turned just as something white with horns rammed into him, knocking him off the cliff and sending him tumbling down the rocky slope, head over heels, till he slid to a stop at the bottom. He looked up at the blue sky and groaned. If he wasn’t a literal rock, he would have been covered in bruises. As it was he still felt like shit.    

“Well look at what the goat dropped in.” Someone laughed. Skeppy tilted his head back to look behind him, everything upside down. A man in a red sweater cast his shadow over him. 

He smiled and the corners of his eyes creased, his shadow growing as a pair of wings spread slightly behind him “Hey there, you seem new, welcome to Boatem town.” 

“Uuuuu... hey there?” 

“You just gonna to lie there, buddy?” He laughed again, reaching out a hand. 

Skeppy blinked and shook his head rolling over and taking the offered hand as the man helped him up. 

“By the way, I’m Grian, whatcha doing out here?” 

“Skeppy, and I, with my excellent sense of direction, was exploring and definitely not lost in any way. I know exactly where I am. And I’m definitely not the victim of some unnamed prankster” He said, starting to walk towards the village and looking around. They were behind a big mossy house.

“Oooh, a prank you say, I’ve got to hear this.” Grian said, following. They walked around the house into the village center, a tower of boats hovered in the middle over an ominous pit. 

“Naaah it’s boring really,” Skeppy waved his hand dismissively as he stopped near the edge of the Boatem hole and peered over. It went all the way down to bedrock, like L’manburg. “Huh... interesting...”

“Ah, yes. That is the Boatem hole, we're planning on opening it up to the void at some point.” Grian explained.

“The void? Wait, you can do that? That sounds awesome. Imagine the pranks you could pull with that” Skeppy said his curiosity getting the better of his caution.

“I know right, Scar’s already fallen down there several times,”

“Hey Grian, who’s your friend there?” A man with in a maroon coat and a tinny hat said coming over. When he came closer Skeppy noticed a long scar running diagonally across his nose and face. 

“Hey Scar! Speak of the devil,” Grian called out to the aptly named man. “This is Skeppy, he’s absolutely not lost.” Grian quipped, smiling, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“You’re lost you say,” Scar said his voice full of all the honey of a car salesman. Skeppy would know, he used the same honeyed tone when trying to talk Bad or Techno into something that probably wasn’t going to end all that well for them but would be absolutely hilarious to watch. 

“Not lost,” Skeppy quickly corrected. 

“Well even those who aren’t lost are trying to get somewhere. I’m sure you wouldn’t object to us sharing a shortcut or too.”

This man was good. Skeppy didn’t want to look too desperate though. Just add a bit of hesitation sprinkled with some skepticism, that should do it “Well... I suppose a shortcut sounds like a good idea. I am heading for the Badlands, know a faster way to get there?”

Skeppy was met with vacant looks, the car salesman gone. “Actually I have no idea where that is,” Scar shrugged sheepishly “How about you Grian,” 

Grian shook his head “Nope... now that I think about it, how did you get on the server anyway,”

“Um... I... I think, I think I just spawned... It’s hard to remember honestly, it’s been so long.” Skeppy frowned at the strange question. 

Grian and Scare glanced at each other in shock. New players weren't born, they were spawned, but it was very rare for players to spawn for the first time in a community server. Usually they spawned in a private server and then moved into a community when they found one that worked for them. 

“Oh!” Skeppies eyes went wide with realization then horror. If a diamond could blanch, Skeppy was the closest thing to that. “...This isn’t the Dream SMP, is it?” 

“Oh dear...” Grian Muttered, “That’s not good.”

---

TFC had been mining. Now he was standing in the middle of a quartz building. That wasn’t normal. His connection to the server had always been a bit glitchy. Maybe this was just another instance of server glitch. He had been frozen in place for days, lagged out, and even defended. Teleportation could just be added to that list. And it wasn’t all that bad, it’s not like it dumped him in the middle of the ocean or lava. As it was, it seemed like he was in someone's starter base. 

He walked down the stairs and out the glass front doors. There were pools of water to either side of a walkway and the yard was cluttered with large colorful statues. A muffin, a duck. Goodness the hermits were already at it with the pranks this season. 

He walked around the statues and came to the front gate of the grounds. A long wooden path lead off in one direction, and wrapped around behind the mansion in the other. A large red multi story building loomed in the distance. The hermits really had gotten busy. 

It was always nice to see what other people were making but he needed to get back to his mine. He took the path following it around the back of the mansion. The path dropped off suddenly. He jumped down and landed with a grunt before taking some bread out of his pocket and munching on it as he rounded the corner of the quartz building's foundation. 

He faltered as his eyes fell on a massive blackstone building looming out of the sea, two imposing lava infused towers book ending the walls at either side... And he had thought the Red build had been big for early game. This was definitely too big for early game... even by hermit standards. 

He slowly walked closer. Beyond the Quartz house was mostly just an open field until it reached the water. As he got closer he noticed his pickaxe suddenly become unnaturally heavy. It felt strangely like Mining Fatigue. What would a Guardian be doing out here? He returned his pick to his inventory. TFC had seen a lot of things in his time, and this thing felt off. 

“Pst..” 

TFC jumped and looked around for the source of the noise. 

“Over here,” 

Now he noticed the footprints in the ground and a floating potion bottle. That sounded like Etho. 

“Etho?” TFC queried.

“Yeah, it’s me. Here drink this, I can explain later,” Etho said, shoving the potion into TFC’s work calloused hands. 

TFC looked down at the bottle of bubbling silver liquid for a moment before uncorking it and downing the liquid. He trusted the young man with his life. 

--- 

Sam started up from his chair in the dark room where he had been flipping through the prison's security camera feeds, lit only by the glow of the computer screens. He expanded the outside front camera feed to full screen and rewound the feed. A strange old man he had never seen before slowly approached the beach by the prison then just disappeared. Who the hell was that and why did he take an invis potion. 

Sam scowled. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, summoning his trident from his inventory and marching for the exit.

[human-do-a-worm]

Ramblings of an Old Soldier Part 3/3

Sorry about the wait. The second dose of COVID vaccine drains you a lot more than the first dose. Anyways here’s part 3, part 1 and part 2 can be found here.

Admiral Sturm sat on the park bench as he always did. Sipping on his coffee and reading the latest news from his datapad. Once again, the Unkall boy approached him and sat beside him on the bench. He noticed that the aging Terran was wearing a strange uniform, with the image of a furred beast embroidered on the chest and upper right arm.

“Good afternoon Mr. Sturm.” “Ah, hello there son. Back for story time again?” “Yes sir. I was wondering what happened after the summit. Almost all traces of you vanished from records 8 cycles ago, and the only mentions of you after that were how the Terran Navy wanted you back.”

“Well, as I said the other day, I became a merc. My crew and I were the best. We took contracts from the Segmentum Norrus, all the way down to the Serectan Void. We didn’t work like most mercenary groups. We sought out our clients, and saw a lot of business. Everything from running escort duty on supply runs to desperate worlds, to taking down entire groups of bandits and pirates. Wherever we went, outlaws and tyrants alike feared the sight of The Wolf’s Den.”

“The Wolf’s Den? I think we heard about a group of people using that ship last cycle in our Galactic History class. Something about taking part in the Gingral war, only a few cycles ago.” “Ah yes, the Gingral war. Some of the bloodiest fighting I’ve ever seen. That was the last contract my crew and I took. We started off in a small role; mostly just escorting supply freighters to the border colonies since most of the supply lines had been cut and the colonists were starving. Our last supply run had been going well, until 6 light cruisers decloaked and opened fire. We did the best we could, but the supply freighter carrying food and civilians was destroyed in only a few minutes.”

“We could have escaped after that. Made a jump to the nearest Unkall station and gotten reinforcements, but My crew and I all knew what had to be done. We knew that the Gingral had to pay. They may have outnumbered us 6 to 1, and they may have had us outgunned, but they didn’t account for us having a mark 7 jump core. We warped around behind them and took down 2 of the light cruisers rather easily, but then we took a hit. The jump core cut out, and we were relying only on engine power.”

“But The Wolf’s Den must have survived somehow. The history logs said that it served through the entirety of the Gingral War.”

“That’s almost right. We knew that we wouldn’t be able to keep her together much longer, so we did what all Terrans do in situations like this. We became unpredictable. We gave all power to weapons and blasted the furthest ship from us, then mustered to the airlocks. We put on EVA gear and as soon as we were close enough to the next ship, we boarded.” “Wasn’t ship boarding added to the prohibited activities of War after the Terran war?” “It was, but targeting civilians has always been among the prohibited activities of War, so we were still committing a lesser infraction. We blasted open the port hangar with a plasma charge, and cleared the first room. Then we cleared the rest of the ship up to the bridge and took out the last remaining light cruiser. Changed the comms channels to the ones we had on The Wolf’s Den, then modified the IFF tag accordingly. When we arrived at the Unkall station we had just left, they demanded an explanation, so we told them what happened.” “And you weren't reprimanded?”

“Oh, we were. There was even a small tribunal held to determine if we could still fight. That’s when the call came in. Rakthis had been attacked, with only a handful of survivors. I immediately got up and started heading to my ship. The Unkall admiral demanded to know where I was going. After calmly telling him that there was now a full scale war, we had work to do. I went to the hangar and got the light cruiser repaired and ready for combat, but not before renaming it. The Wolf’s Den was never destroyed, it just became another ship.”

“What happened next?” the Unkall boy asked. “Weren’t the forces around Rakthis said to be uncounted?”

“They were, that’s why we didn’t go to Rakthis. We went to Waalon instead. Then to Rek’lon, and finally to Scrurros. Everywhere we went, we pushed back the Gingral horde. My first mate, Sarah Callingham, had family on the outer colonies back in the Vrumoid war. Saw most of them killed in front of her when their shuttle was shot down leaving atmosphere on Vrall VII. Scrurros was a tough nut to crack, and she had more crafty ideas than I did. We landed The Wolf’s Den on the uninhabited side of the planet, then bought a grav truck from one of the farmers. It was hard to weld the armor plates on it at the right angle, but mounting the lasguns and mortar was rather simple. I stood in the back, manning two of the lasguns and the mortar while she and two other soldiers were up front in the cab. We got almost to the planetary capital before we faced any resistance.”

“But the history logs said that Scrurros didn’t fall until the later end of the war.” “That’s right. We couldn’t take the planet as easily as we’d taken the others. When the first mortar hit the shield on the planetary governance center, we knew we were in for a fight. We got the truck away with only a few shots on the armor, but we were pursued by the planetary militia. One of the armored gun trucks fired their heavy las gun and took out the rear grav drive. With the back end of the truck along the ground, our speed tanked to a crawl. I was able to keep the militia back for a while by pinning them down with the lasguns, but then another shot hit us, dead center mass.”

“How bad was it? Were you alright?”

“I made it out with only a few scratches, scrapes, and bruises, but Sarah and the others up front weren't so lucky. The shot penetrated the cab and blew up at the steering linkage. Only Sarah, myself, and the one crewman in the back with me made it out of that. We ducked into a nearby building for cover, only to find that it was a school. Not wanting to put the civilians in danger, we lightly dressed Sarah’s wounds and went on into the forest surrounding the city. We came to a cave at the foot of a mountain, and made camp inside.” “Who was the other crewman that was with you? I notice that you haven’t said his name yet.”

“His name was Richard Grumman. He was the newest addition to The Wolfpack, joining us less than a cycle ago. We hadn’t had much time to get to know each other. The Militia found us in the first week, and he was shot to death on the night they raided the cave. Sarah and I managed to get away, but we were far from being safe. The next night we got a transmission from The Wolf’s Den; They had been found, and were wondering what to do. Sarah and I were at least four days away from the ship, so I made the call and told them to leave while they had the chance, to keep fighting and never forget about us.” “So you willingly stranded yourself and an injured crewmate on a hostile planet just to save your crewmates? The stories about the Terrans must be true.” “You’ll learn that those stories don’t even tell half the story if you stick on a Terran ship for even half a cycle. Anyways, there we were, just me and Sarah on Scrurros. I treated her wounds the best I could, but she wasn’t getting much better. Eventually she died, less than half a cycle into our time on that world. I retired with her body to the farmer who sold us the truck, and paid him to let me bury Sarah on his property. Much like with the freighter, the Gingral would pay. I took stock of what I had. Two lasguns, three fragmentation grenades, an energy grenade, and a plasma charge. Not nearly enough to take on the forces of the planet, but maybe enough to make it possible.”

“So what did you do? The Gingral don’t just let prisoners get away. Especially not in the middle of a war.” “Well, I couldn't just storm the Planetary Governance Center. That would accomplish nothing but my own death. Instead I went for something better. Three grids away from the Governance Center was the Defense Center. The plan was simple. Get inside, break as much stuff as I could, and hope that was enough to take down their defenses. It took me ten days to reach the capital again, and another three to figure out how to get inside. Turns out the Gringal didn’t make their roof as secure as they should have. I opened up the ventilation system and got inside. From there it was a short trip to the bunker exterior.”

“Aren’t Gingral bunkers some of the hardest to break open in the entire galaxy? How did you get inside?” “Simple; I didn’t break in; I snuck in. I kicked out the vent and got inside the bunker, then closed and locked the door behind me and smashed the controls. There were only technicians and a few soldiers inside, who were easy enough to dispatch. The harder part was accessing the communications room. Aside from the door of the bunker itself, the communications room was the most secure place in the facility. The door was half a meter thick, and barred at six points. That would prove to be a great challenge, so I left it for later. I quickly found the controls to the weapons system, and took it down. The planet was now mostly defenseless against ships in orbit and low atmosphere.”

“So you took down the guns, but how did you get in?”

“The door was too hard to get through, so I made my own instead. I went above the room and opened up the three fragmentation grenades. Terrna frag grenades use a pressure sensitive explosive to detonate, so I poured it out above the room, then placed the plasma charge on top of it. I ducked out of the room and waited for the explosion. When that charge went off, it was as if the whole planet shook. When I went in to check on the hole, the charge had only just broken through the floor. It took hours for me to get the hole wide enough for me to wriggle inside, but it was worth it. I contacted the Unkall fleet, and they were there within the week. The planet fell and I was pulled from the bunker before the food and water stores were even dented.”

“So that’s why taking Scrurros was so easy for the fleet. There wasn’t as much resistance as the planet originally had. And you were the one to take it down?”

“That’s right. After the war, I was broken. My knees were all but useless for fighting, and I could barely stand without swaying. The Unkall empire never forgot what my crew and I did. We were paid many times more than what was written in our contract, and they even got me a home right here on Unkall Prime. Now I sit here, enjoying retirement in my old age. Though the Terran lifespan is almost 50 cycles, we’re usually out of our working years after only 30 cycles. Our bodies are too old and weak to do most of the hard tasks that we normally would.”

“So what do you do now? Surely after a life like yours you want to do something just as exciting after you’re done working.”

“I mostly just read now. When you spend your life as a soldier, you miss out on so much. I never settled down and had kids, and my time for that is even drawing to a close. I did take up a few hobbies here and there, but nothing really stuck. I still work part time for the Unkall empire, training their soldiers in virtual reality simulations is about all I can do, but I’ve given the Unkall the strength to protect their planets, and given their generals and admirals the knowledge not to go on any missions they will regret. I’m happy with the contributions I’ve made in my life, and if I had the chance, I’d do it all over again. By the way, I never did catch your name.”

“My name is Ruthal Nerzak, and I’m slotted to be a soldier in the Unkall Defense Force.”

“Well Ruthal, I hope we will meet again someday.”

With that, Ruthal stopped recording and went home, finishing his final report.

A few days later, Ukall prime came under attack. A colonial independence group made numerous strikes around the city, and Ruthal had been caught outside on his way home from class. He tried to run away, but was chased by one of the insurgents down an alleyway, when suddenly two lasgun shots rang out. Ruthal though he was dead, but he slowly opened his four eyes and saw that the terrorist was dead on the ground in front of him. Looking up, he was me with a familiar face

“Thank you Mr. Sturm, I thought I was surely dead.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we’re seven grids away from the nearest shelter, and there’s enemies all around us. You said you wanted to be a soldier, well your training just started early.”

Sturm handed Ruthal the lasgun from the dead insurgent, and after showing him how to fire and teaching him how to make sure it doesn’t overheat, he led the Unkall boy out of the alley and down the street. Two blocks later, Sturm pulled the Unkall boy into an alley.

“Alright son, listen up. There’s about fifty armed and angry people between us and shelter. Our espace routes have been mostly cut off, so I need you to listen to me and listen well. When I tell you to run, you run as fast as you can. We should be able to get past most of them by taking the alleys across the street. I picked up some kit off one of these guys. The flashbang should buy us enough time to cross the street, but I’ll have to think of something after we get to our next crossing.”

Sturm threw the flashbang far into the crowd of terrorists, blinding a dozen of them and allowing them to cross the street. After seeing how many insurgents were at their crossing point, Sturm and Ruthal entered a tall residence building across from a big shootout between the insurgent and Unkall forces.

“Alright, we don’t stand a chance of crossing that. Here’s the plan. We’ll get up high, and then open fire on them. If nothing else, we’ll draw their attention away from the defense forces and allow them to break through.”

“I can’t. They’re people, just like us.” “Look around you kid. There’s men, women, and children all gunned down by these guys. I’m not sure what that makes them in Unkall society, but to us Terrans, they’re no longer people; they’re monsters. As a soldier, our job is to get rid of the monsters, so that everyone can sleep soundly at night knowing they’re safe. Taking a life isn’t something one does lightly, but it’s still something that has to be done. It’s better that we take them out, because if we don’t, who knows how many more people they’ll kill. We don’t do this because we like killing, we do this because we love the people we protect, and we’d give anything to keep them safe.”

“But I don’t want to hurt them.”

“I understand. I’m not sure if the Unkall have a saying like this, but Terrans sure do. You have a big heart. You want to keep people safe, not put them in the ground. But sometimes the best way to keep people safe is to put bad people in the ground. We’re between a rock and a hard place. If we sit here and do nothing, they will continue to hold this street, but if we can take them down, even just one or two of them, we can make them fight on two sides, which is the easiest way to break through an enemy line. I recognize a few of the soldiers I can see from up here. I trained them myself. They’ll realize what’s going on and they’ll do the heavy lifting; we just need to give them a helping hand. So, are you ready?”

The young Unkall nodded, then Sturm and Ruthal braced their lasguns on the windowsill, and opened fire on the street below. As Sturm said, the insurgents shifted their position, attempting to defend against incoming fire from two directions. As the Unkall defense forces broke the lines, a single shot came from the street and hit Sturm in the neck

Bleeding badly, Sturm stumbled back, Ruthall catching him in his arms. As he was losing his grasp on consciousness, Sturm held Ruthalls hand

“Never forget what happened here. Never forget the atrocities you saw with your own eyes, and never be afraid to rise up against the monsters who make things like this happen.”

With that, Sturm closed his eyes. Unkall security forces soon burst into the room, seeing the state of the old Terran, they gave him the best aid they could, and sent him off to the hospital, with Ruthall at his side.

After a lengthy surgery and two pints of blood, Sturm woke up in his hospital room, Ruthall asleep on his lap. Colonel Rengar, a soldier in the Unkall defense forces entered the room.

“So Admiral, I see your retirement is going well.”

“Can the crap Colonel. How many did we lose?”

“Casualties are still being counted, but even one is too many.”

“And what about the boy, Ruthall. Why is he still here?"

"His family were among those killed in the attack. We haven’t told him yet, just that we’re still looking for them.”

“So what will happen to him?”

“We don’t know. He doesn’t have any living family, and in our culture friend’s do not step in for situations like these. He will likely be left to become an adoptee for some family here, but after this, I’m not sure who would adopt him.”

“I will.”

“What? You can’t be serious. The looks he would get, especially here in the capital. I’m not sure if he can take it.”

“He knows my story. He knows that I take care of the ones I call family. He didn’t hesitate to pick up a rifle and follow me through the streets today, and he only barely hesitated to fight beside me. He’ll make a fine soldier, and he’ll make a damn good son. Get me the documents dammit.”

“Very well.”

Ruthall woke up, and was told about what happened. He didn’t take his family dying too well, but was glad that he would not be alone. The next day that school was in session, Admiral Sturm put on his old Terran uniform, and walked his son into class. It was not easy adjusting to caring for a young Unkall child, but it was a change that Sturm was happy to make. He had known what it was like to be alone, and now he could keep Ruthall from knowing that pain.

The End

Let me know if you guys want a follow up series about Sturm and Ruthall on Unkall Prime, and how they live their lives together.

[icyteaa]

So … I just read the recent manhwa. I don't know why, but I don't find anyone who talks about this, so I will speak up.

This picture:

I don't know why, but this picture makes me very sad. I imagine the hardships Alberu had gone through since he was just a kid after his mom died, until he finally found a new family and friends (Cale and Co.).

My heart shattered as I thought about it. And I can't help but want to write something for him. So this is it. Headcanon that I dedicated to our beloved Crown Prince.

TCF Headcanon

[Found A Family]

Alberu dreamed last night. He didn't know he should say it was a good dream or a nightmare. He sure, finally met his mother again even if it's in a dream is a very good thing that rarely happens, but he too can't avoid the sorrow he felt after he wakes up from that dream. It makes him remember short but precious moments—the best memories he has in the twenty-four years he lives, mourning about it and wanting it to come back; to feel it again.

Alberu sighed without he can even resist. His morning felt rather gloomy because of that, but his responsibility as a Crown Prince in the middle of war never waited for him to get ready; so he took a bath and let the maid help him with the clothes. Push aside his feelings to the corner of his heart and wrap his prince-like behaviour that should never disappear in front of his people just like any other day.

He found a particular message in his communication device while he sorted all messages from his vassal and subordinate there. It's from his Aunt, Tasha. It's not something related to his duty, he thought, as he saw there were no formalities in the first greeting. So he just read it after he went through another meeting with noble about preparation for war and had a moment to rest for himself. Because responsibility always comes first than his own interest.

—If you want it, I can take charge of your task for today so you can visit your mother's grave. Don't push yourself too much. At least you can do that today.

Alberu chuckled. But there is no smile in his void eyes. Finally, someone brought it up. After all the silence his subordinate reluctantly acted in front of him, or even just normal behavior because they didn't know what date is today as they didn't have much care for the deceased person; someone finally showed care to him in the way most sincere than any bullshit talk all noble threw. And just like any year he passed, it's always and only his aunt.

Maybe that is why he has a rare dream today. Today is a special and gloomy day. He will never forget it. Nintheen years had passed, but he couldn't erase the grief in his heart. His most beloved person. The only one who is on his side in this cold palace. The only one who looked after him when everyone turned their eyes. The one who affectionately caressed him. It's just five years and still, Alberu can't get away from the sensation; or the fact he wants to feel it once more.

But remember the mountain stack in front of his eyes and duties that he should do today, he shook his head before answering his aunt's massage shortly. Rejected her offer softly before continuing with the paperwork he should read and sign. It's not the time for it. And he knew, he couldn't do it because it meant there would be people who see his weak side. And in this critical moment, that kind of weakness will be very dangerous if the enemies (any other princes or princesses) hold it.

Just like that, there is nothing different in Alberu's schedule. He read and signed paperwork—mountains of it, before he went to another meeting. And without even he realized, the time passed to the night as he found the moon shining brightly and illuminated his study.

It's tiring, of course. But it's not like he can complain much as this is the path he chooses himself. Alberu frequently questions his own decision. Why did he still stand when the favor of King had fallen from him? Why did he still choose to fight his step siblings to get the throne? Is it really just because of the power he will hold as the new King? Or is it because that is his right to have it? Is this continual tiring activity worthy enough for that?

Alberu can't help but let out another sigh. As time passed and he had let his subordinate get a rest while he finished a few more paperwork, he let himself not act as a strong prince without weakness to be pointed out. His too much absent-mindedly thought made him not realise someone had already transported into his study and observed him with absolute silence.

"You look more tired than normal, hyung." Alberu jolted when he heard the man's voice. His face narrowed with a big frown and his body all tensed up, before he realised his body again after he saw whose voice that he heard. He scoffed when he found the man so-called his sworn brother, stoicly staring at him while sitting on the couch opposite him. He huffed under his breath, "Can you step into my room with more proper attitude just like any other noble do?"

Unfortunately, the man is a few people that he can't really scold or punish even with any improper behavior he did in front of the Crown Prince. So even after receiving just a shrugged shoulder from the man as an answer to his sarcasm question, he just let out another sigh. Really, he didn't know why this man could be very unafraidly approach him. And then again, he didn't know too why he himself was never really angry because of his behaviour. He shook his head and reached another paperwork, "So, what business did our busy young master do in my study this late at night?"

At least Cale, the name of a young master that weirdly came to his life just a year ago, didn't come with an empty hand. They have yet another small meeting, discussing things they should prepare for war while Alberu finishes his paperwork left. It may be close to midnight when they finally end their discussion and Alberu finished his work. He stretched his stiff body before letting out another sigh. As time passed, it seemed he was too comfortable enough to let this young man see his un-prince behaviour somehow, so he didn't care and did it while Cale still observed him silently.

"Aren't you push yourself too much, hyung?" The reddish brown eyes observed him thoroughly. Cale rose his eyebrows with disbelief, as if Alberu's appearance right now made the young man pitited him. Alberu eyebrows rose too, "And whose mess do I take care of the most?" He said jokingly. Yeah, joking because even if he looks quite not like what the man did as he roamed and spread mess, it's too for the greater good of Roan Kingdom. They two know well about that. But still, found Cale scoffed when he heard Alberu complain, sure amusing to be watched.

"Seriously, your highness. I just state the fact, but it looks like our sun is too tired and wronged his subordinate without him even realizing." Cale stood from his couch and bowed in proper manner this time. Alberu could see unpleasant glints in the young man's eyes as they stared at each other, "Then I will take my leave so our sun can rest."

Alberu chuckled. This type of sulky face Cale has made him a bit better. It looks like teasing this young master can make his stressed out body more relaxed. "It's hyung." Alberu rose one side of his lips, "If our beloved hero can help this tired human, how about accompanying me with a few glasses of wine?"

They have a quiet night with just the voice of glasses collided with each other. He let his sober fly away as the wine passed his throat. His memories of his mother filled his mind. He didn't even realize that he talked about his memories with the young master. He didn't remember much, but he knew Cale heard his stories patiently until his body flopped into the table and his consciousness faded.

"I miss my mother." Alberu heard himself mourning as his body was lifted and Cale carried him in the shoulder. This can happen just because his consciousness disappeared bit by bit, and he wasn't in the state to care about pride. He is sad. And he really misses his mom. Cale, who is still by his side, is the only place he can mourn as he pleases.

He could see his way to the bed not smooth as the weak young man staggered to support him. Nevertheless, Alberu succeeded in plopping on the bed surface before Cale dragged his body again so he could lie down properly. He saw Cale's face that sat on the edge of bed. The young man still shut himself even if Alberu wanted to hear his response. It makes him a bit upset, so he scoffed, "You don't even react. Are you don't care about that either?"

Cale sighed softly. Alberu felt a warm hand in his forehead pat him stiffly after that. "If I didn't care, I would have left you alone a long time ago." Alberu shut himself as he felt the warmth caressed his head. It is surely not as soft as his mom did; but he can feel the same warmth. The one he really likes, and the one he really misses. His body relaxed more as the hand adjusted the hand move and running in his head more gently. "If you care … don't die. Don't leave me alone."

The hand stopped for a moment before doing his task again while another one moved the blanket to Alberu's neck to keep him warm. "I'm not planning on dying." He can hear Cale's voice. That voice calmed him down; like a lullaby his mothers always sang to make Alberu sleep. And finally, Alberu shut his eyes slowly and his consciousness faded fully as he heard the last sentence from the young man, "Rest, hyung. You deserve to have it."

In his dream, he met his mother again. But unlike today, he can feel this is going to be a good dream he has tomorrow as he finally comes to the realization that, he isn't alone. His mom couldn't support him again nor caress him, but someone had filled the hole in his sorrowful heart. Someone had reached his hand toward Alberu. Someone who can he call his younger brother—dongsaeng. Maybe he will not admit it openly, but he knew his heart had already accepted the man's existence.

If tomorrow he felt embarrassed because of his mourn in front of the young man, let it be the story for tomorrow. Just for today, he felt content. Because finally he realized; he had found a family.

Note:

I labelled this as TCF Headcanon, not AlbeCale because I want to write this not as AlbeCale stan, but as a fan of Alberu Crossman. I love him and I want him to be happy after all he has gone through up until now.

Please shower Alberu more love. Not just because of his looks or his relationship with Cale, but because of his entire existence. He deserves it🥺

[pedropascalssimp]

Feisty dala

Boba fett x fem reader

Summary: din djarin and you have been traveling together since you had both met that day you two had discovered Grogu, now on a mission to find a jedi seeing stone, only you find a certain mandalorian who seems to like getting on your nerve.

Warnings: language. Violence. Mentions death. Blood is mentioned. Boba being grumpy. Fluff because Im obsessed with soft old Boba 🤧💕 and lastly (gasps) IT'S LONG!?

No one asked for this I just wrote it because I was bored and finally had free time.

*not my gif*

The razor crest was submerged In silence, Grogu in the seat beside your mandalorian friend while you was in the one behind the little green boy.

The stars whizzing by in white blurs while you simply tap your fingers against the leather chair arm as you boredly look around at the ship. You was told by din to be quiet, your constant talking about various things had irked him, he claimed you couldn't be quiet for even five minutes. ever so eager to prove him wrong you decided to bet on it, telling him that you was capable of being quiet for ten minutes to up the stakes of the bet, so he threw fifty credits on the table and you agreed. But damn was it hard to keep quiet, especially whenever the urge to tease the mandalorian about how he just spoke to his son in a baby voice was so strong.

But you bite your tongue and ignore it, ignore how he puts the ship into autopilot so he can hold Grogu and continue to baby him. "are you hungry kid? You haven't eaten in nearly two hours... Surely you must be hungry little womp rat" din tickles his side making the child giggle. It was then you knew din was purposely trying to make you tease him, trying to make you lose the bet. But you stubborn and determined to win, so you cross your arms and lean back in the seat comfortably.

"lucky for you... I managed to get you some more cookies while we were on Trask, want some?" he asks the green child who nods eagerly, din proceeds to retrieve the promised cookies and soon let's Grogu dig in. Standing up from his seat, his visor falls on you.

"one more minute until the bets up, I'm actually surprised you haven't spoke yet" he said with amusement, watching how you grin at him with a cocky expression. "but I do dread when it's over... Because I'll never be able to shut you up" he jokes while patting your shoulder, walking out of the cockpit to eat you assumed. Once he was gone and the minute was up, you let out a deep sigh, smiling over at Grogu who had cookie crumbs all over his face.

"that man spoils you kid, but judging by the smile on you're face you don't seem to mind" you stand up and plop down in the pilot seat to see Grogu better, "can I have one?" you ask, eyeing a cookie. Grogu looks at you, down at the cookies then sighs deeply before handing you one, as if he was opposed to giving you one. You take it with a grateful nod, saying thanks while munching on the cookie.

The sound of the door opening makes you look back, seeing din walk in and motioning you to get out of his seat, doing so you outstretched a hand, looking at him with a smirk. "I do believe you owe me fifty credits Mando" you enjoyed the huff that escaped his modulater as he practically throws the money at you.

"I hate you, you know that right?" he said, the playful tone giving away his words was nothing but playful banter.

"the feeling is mutual buckethead" you laugh while sitting back in your usual seat, looking at the credits with a proud smirk. "can you believe that you lost to me? That is just so surprising" you sarcastically say, remembering how you always win bets, but din hasn't learnt his lesson on how not to gamble with you.... The muttered curse word's from din only make you laugh more.

"Grogu, remind me next time not to indulge her when she places a dumb bet" Grogu coos and looks out the window, "it won't take long before we land on tython" din announced after a few moments of silence.

"oh maker, everyone prepare yourselves! Mando is about to land the ship!" you giggle after you buckled in, "try and not wreck this time captain" you tease him while you watch him buckle Grogu in.

Whenever his visor falls on you, you can feel the glare fixated on you, burning holes through your head. But you offer him a innocent look. "next words that leave you're mouth will be you're last, because I'm taping you're mouth shut" he spoke while turning back to focus on flying.

"oh, kinky" you joke with a grin. That made him snap his head around.

"what!? No - no I didn't mean like -

"it's just a joke Mando, calm down" you laugh, his stuttering at a simple joke letting you know it embarrassed him. He was definitely a innocent soul, even though his line of work put blood on his hands, he was somehow still a kind person, but damned if you ever got on his bad side, because that's when the cold blooded bounty hunter comes out. Hint why you befriended him that day you and him met, you was after the same bounty, along with a Droid. You, din and the Droid made your way to the bounty and your heart dropped when you saw Grogu, innocent wide eye's looking up at the three of you. The Droid, ever so heartless, was going to kill the kid, but din killed the Droid and you and him made a promise to protect Grogu. From that bloomed your friendship.

"let's just get to this jedi rock thing" din mumbled while you chuckle behind him from your seat. Maker was he clueless about the jedi, you wasn't that educated on them either but knew more about them then him.

Din flies around in search of the right location, green mountains and blue skies a beautiful contrast to what you've usually been seeing lately. Tython wasn't much, but it was still beautiful. You watched with adoring eye's as Grogu looks around with fascinated eye's.

"Looks like that’s the magic rock I’m supposed to take you to down there" din spoke while he slows down to fly around the rock in the middle of a clearing on the mountain. "Sorry, buddy. I can’t land on the top. Too small. We’re gonna have to travel the last stretch with the windows down" you looked out the window at the seeing stone with amazement, it was definitely something new to you. But after a few moments you take in din's words.

"wait, you're gonna use the jetpack? What about me? What am I supposed to do walk?" you questioned while looking at the mandalorian.

"either walk or stay on the ship" he shrugs while finding a place to land, surprising you by how smoothly he landed the razor crest. "me and him will be back after we figure out whatever it is this jedi thing does" he picks Grogu up and holds him tightly while looking down at you. "don't destroy my ship out of boredom, I know how you get when you're bored" he points a finger at you like a dad scolding his kid.

"I'm not gonna destroy you're ship Mando, besides... Now with you gone I can finally take a peaceful nap, you're snoring won't bother me now" you lean back in your seat and spare a glance at his void visor.

"whatever, I gotta get Grogu to the jedi rock thing" he leaves without another word, taking little Grogu with as you sigh. What the hell was you supposed to do? Actually sleep? As much as you really wanted to, you found yourself to wired to sleep, so you stand up and explore the ship, descending the ladder to the cockpit. You look around at everything boredly, finding a crate to seat on while looking over your blaster. It was what felt like hours later, but really more like fifteen minutes, when you heard the landing of another ship, this made you jump up and holster your blaster while opening the ramp of the crest, looking for the mysterious ship you heard. Out in the distance, you spot a ship, it was rusted and old looking from what you could gather, but you didn't see anything. Walking back into the crest while the door closed with a hiss, you grab the com din gave you and activated it.

"Mando is everything okay?" you ask, hoping he'd respond, hell he probably didn't even have his com on him.

Crackling was heard before the sound of din's voice comes in, "yeah...sort of..." he muttered back, making you lift a brow in confusion.

"sort of!? What's happening? Who's ship just landed!?" you rushed out while pacing the floor, worried things might be going south out there while your in this ship doing nothing to help.

Din detected the concern and stress in your voice and sighs, "I'm fine, Grogu is doing his jedi thing and I'm talking with this guy -

"guy!? What guy? What the hell is happening out there din!?" you used his real name making him turn the com off. Great now your clueless as to what is exactly happening while your stuck on this ship. Perfect.

Laying the com down, more like slamming it, you let out a angry huff. Running a hand down your face while deciding if you should stay on the crest or leave. About ready to make your mind up your almost out the door, but before you could open it, the sound of yet more ships landing was heard, that's when you take out your blaster and open the crests door. Walking outside only to spot stormtroopers.

"oh you have to be kidding me!" you angry growl out while spotting din fighting stormtroopers off alongside two other people, din tries making towards Grogu who was at the top of the hill. But of course you can't focus on that now considering a few troopers spot you, rising your blaster up fast you shoot at them, hitting one in the leg while the other in the chest, taking another shot you take the last one out easily.

Running towards the hill while taking out troopers your almost toward din, but a familiar face stops you, "Fennec!?" you ask, looking the woman over, she shoots you a small smile before shooting a trooper who was behind you.

"you sound surprised to see me y/n!" she shoot another trooper while you start aiding her in taking down the damned men.

"well considering the last time I saw you, you was dead" you quickly dodged a blaster shot before looking at her again, "yes, I'm a little surprised to see you" you offer her a smile before parting ways. Trying to help your partner out, but din was already so far up the hill. That's when you spare a glance at the crest and spot a man going inside. This intrigued you and your quick to race back down the hill to see what the hell that was about.

Running inside the ship you hold your blaster up, spotting a older man putting on din's hard earned beskar. "and what do you think you're doing with my friends beskar?" you ask him, looking over his face. Although scarred greatly from what you could only assume a life threatening experience, he was quite handsome. Dark eye's and a ever present scowl on his face.

He hums before looking away and continues putting the beskar on, placing the chest piece on. "this armor belongs to me" he grunts out with a gruff voice, a accent leaking through his voice. It was beautiful, rough but still a sound you find yourself yearning to hear again. "and don't point that thing at me unless you plan on using it princess" he spoke while putting the leg pieces on now.

Holding it more firm you walk closer to him, not liking his attitude. "and who says I won't use it? Now put my friends armor back before I decide to drop you old man" you say, deciding if he wanted to call you princess, something you really didn't mind but hating how it made your heart feel weird, you'd call him old man.

Ignoring you, something that really pissed you off, he places the helmet on and pushes past you. "I knew you wouldn't pull the trigger, now either help take some of these troopers out or stay put princess, wouldn't want you to break a nail" he walks off after that, leaving your blood boiling and jaw clenched.

Oh he was definitely going to pay for that, because you don't let anyone get away with such shit like that. Practically in a fit of rage you help Fennec, asshole, and din take out the troopers, fighting your way back up the hill as you switch between using your blaster and blade. You felt his lingering gaze on you as you fought, but ignored him, to focused on killing those jerks. And finally you succeeded and stood by din as you both watched the other mandalorians shoot the ships that held the remaining, fleeing troopers. The shot hit one ship making it fall and crash into the other.

"nice shot" din said while you roll your eye's and glare at the mandalorian in green chipped and beat armor.

He turns around, visor fixated on you two. "I was aiming for the other one" he spoke and this time you found his beautiful voice annoying.

You hated the man already, yet... Why the hell did he make your belly flip and heart flutter?

Oh maker...at the realization you was falling for the stranger you hate him even more.

It all happened in a blur, one moment Grogu's in his protective blue force field thing, the next his not and some rather lethal looking droids are taking. And the crest? It's gone, blown into dust. You couldn't do anything but watch your friends world crumble before him. No matter what you said it wouldn't make him feel better you knew, but once you heard the anger in his voice and determination, you knew he would stop at nothing to get his son back.

And so that's where you was now, all on the slave I while boba, you found out the assholes name finally, paints his armor, you watched him with crossed arms and a glare. You was still angry from his earlier words and attitude, but also still hypnotized by his face, the scars looked like they had to have been deep painful wounds once upon a time. But his beauty in them was something that really drawn your attention, his dark brown eye's held this new special glent in them as he looks at his armor, painting it with care while the smallest of smiles tugs at his lips whenever his paint brush comes across a certain deep mark or dent in the armor. It was stunning.

But like hell your gonna let his good looks capture you, draw you in like some lovestruck puppy. Because you didn't like him, no, that would just be obserd, idiotic even. He was a smug, grumpy jerk, he was even a bit older then you.... But maker was his voice something else, something you could never tire of.

"like what you see princess?" he spoke up, gruff voice startling you out of your thoughts. Scoffing at him you look away, trying to glare at the wall without letting your blush creep up your cheeks at being caught staring.

"can't say I do" you retort while glaring at him again, his smug amused face making your skin burn with frustration at the man. "and stop calling me that fett, unless you want me to kick you're ass?" you offer him a little smirk this time and he chuckles, focusing back on his work.

"oh, a feisty dala eh?" he doesn't even look up to see your reaction, he didn't even know if you spoke mando'a or not. "I like that" he adds with smug smirk, this time catching the red painting your cheeks.

"I don't even know what the hell dala means" you shake your head and glare at him again, his eye's now glued to yours, the intensity of his eye contact enough to have your skin burning for other reasons besides anger.

"I see you're little boyfriend doesn't teach you his own people's language?" he hoped that din wasn't really your boyfriend, for whenever he said that you was a feisty dala and he liked it, he meant it.

"okay for one thing, that idiot is not my boyfriend, and another no, he hardly even speaks to me unless it's absolutely crucial" you chuckle at the thought and watch how boba let's a little smirk tug at his lips while he works.

"dala means woman, therefore I called you a feisty woman...which you are"

"and you like it?" you tease him with a prideful smirk, standing up and walking over to only sit back down beside him. He looks down at you with confusion and a little skeptical look.

"what are you planning little girl" he grumbled as he puts his paint brush aside and turns his attention on you.

Shrugging you simply gaze up at him, loving how he keeps flickering his gaze over your face, obviously taking in every detail. "well it's kind of boring just sitting around doing nothing so I thought you'd like some help?" you point at the extra brush and his eye's look down at it, then back up at you.

"sure, just don't mess it up" he grunts out while handing you the brush and instructing you what to do. After he explained how he wanted it, you began helping him silently, your mind souly focused on the even slow strokes of the brush, turning the beskar a deep green. While you was lost in painting the man beside you watched with the smallest of smiles, boba found himself lost in the soft expression on your angelic face, the way your brows slightly lift up when you come across a dent, the way your lips slowly tug up when you triumphantly finish and admire your handy work. Boba fett wasn't one for being all sappy or overly lovey dovey. But he couldn't help but note how his eye's was practically glued to you, because he thought you was absolutely beautiful, an angel among the galaxy he had the privilege of meeting. Looking away from you he wipes any trace of affection off his face and starts painting the more detailed red and oranges onto the beskar.

It was ever since that day spent on the older bounty hunters ship, you and him sat and painted in a comfortable silence. And although he seemed like a grumpy and cold person of few words, you couldn't help but enjoy his company. After you had both finished your work you started small talk that soon led to you befriending the man.

Walking into the cantina with boba close by your side and din taking the lead, you follow the man in silver beskar to a table where two mandalorian women sit, eating while their helmets are discarded on the table. As you approached them, they stare up at you, boba and din. The red head eyeing din, the one you knew as bo-katan, having met her back on trask, while her friend simply pays you no mind, the one who's name you have yet to learn, not that you really cared honestly.

"I need you're help" din spoke, bo doesn't bother to look at din.

"Not all Mandalorians are bounty hunters. Some of us serve a higher purpose" she tells him, making you scoff quietly and look away from them, arms crossed across your chest, eye's focused on your shoes. After that you zooned her out, not really caring what she had to say, you wasn't her biggest fan after all, she didn't really make a good first impression.

But when she starts speaking to boba? That's when you really start listening. And at first, although angry, you let her insult slide.

"You are not a Mandalorian"

Not wanting to start a fight with someone din was speaking help from. And then the one you soon discovered to be koska reeves spoke up with a jab.

"I didn’t know sidekicks were allowed to talk"

Making your blood boil, but you bite your tongue and ball your fists up by your side, boba saw you growing angry and that sparked his interest, but din also knew and you could read him like a book, you knew he was pleading you to stay calm, and you honestly tried, but then....

"You are a disgrace to your armor" bo said, while standing up. You instantly scoot closer to boba and the anger was like fire in your eyes as you glared at the red head.

"it belonged to my father" boba spoke, and you remember how he told you the stories of his father jango that one night on his ship, how his eyes would light up fondly at certain memories he told you, that same light turning to a dark look of what one could only describe as grief as he then told that jango was taken from him by the hands of a jedi...you felt sad for boba, wrapping a arm around him, and if it was any other being boba would have chopped their arm off for touching him, but he couldn't deny how nice it felt whenever you held him. Boba grew quite fond of you, that scared him in a way, but he'd be damned if he ever pushed you away, so he embraced the feeling and finds himself falling harder for you each passing day, only hoping you felt the same.

"Don’t you mean your donor?" that hung thick in the air and you couldn't take it anymore. Din noticed that your calm composer had faded into nothing and was replaced by rage.

Pushing past boba you glare at bo-katan and now stand in front of the man, "watch you're tongue bo before I cut it out" you emphasis your threat by retrieving your blade, holding it in your hand casually. Boba smiles beneath the helmet at your words, but din was shaking his head knowing that your threats was never empty.

"this isn't you're place to talk sunshine so why don't you continue being quiet and hiding behind you're Clone friend?" she takes a step closer to you, tempting your patience.

"unless you want you're ass kicked I'd suggest you shut up" you almost growled the words out, your hands twitching to just punch her in the face. You hated the disrespect she was giving boba, he was a tough man, had a tough life ever since his father was taken from him at such a young age, he deserves better then bo-katan and her little friends insults.

"y/n... Not now" din warns in a sad attempt to make you back down. But once bo opens her mouth and let's her words fly out... Din knew there was no way that would happen.

"like you could do anything" she mused while eyeing you. That's what made you throw the first punch with your left hand, the blade you carried still in your right. That made din nervous, he didn't want you to kill the people he was seeking help from. He needed them.

Bo dodged your punch and lands a kick to your leg, almost making you fall but your quick to throw yourself at her and manage to grab both her arms and forcing them behind her back while kicking the backs of her knees causing her to fall, you held the blade against her throat and force her to look at you.

"I do believe you owe my friend an apology" you pant out, having lost your breath during your brawl. Bo glares at you hard, her own pants huffing out from the fight.

"dank farrik y/n! Stop!" din snaps, hand on his blaster making you gap at the man. Boba held his blaster as well but his visor wasn't on you.

"are you seriously going to shoot me?!" you exclaim making him shake his head.

"no but if you haven't noticed there is a blaster held at the back of you're head" he seethes prompting you to peek over your shoulder and spot koska behind you with a blaster. Rolling your eye's you retract your blade from bo's neck and push her forward. She stumbled but soon stands up shooting daggers into your skull. Before you could move past her she punched you in the face making you stumble backwards with a grunt, grabbing your now bleeding nose.

This made boba step forward now, grabbing your arms and ushering closer to din. "I'm sure you can handle the rest by yourself mandalorian, we'll meet at the ship" boba told din before leaving the cantina, hold firm on your upper arm as he practically drags you away.

"you're something else dala, we didn't need you starting a fight" boba tried to scold you, but his amusement was clear as day in his voice.

Scoffing at him you shake your head. "they were disrespecting you, someone needed to put them in their place" you say while your eyes squeezed shut. The pain now slowing creeping up on you, the blood still flowing from your nose.

"that wasn't you're battle to fight, you should have kept you're mouth shut and let me handle it" boba grunts while stopping to look over your nose, it was most likely broken. "does it feel as bad as it looks?" he teased while slowly using his thumb to wipe away the blood, only to have it replaced by more.

"I'd be lying if I said no" you offer him a smile, looking up into his visor void of any signs of those brown eye's.

"well once we're back on the ship I'll fix you up, it's the least I could do after you defended my honor" he muttered and the smirk in his voice was heard. You only smile and start walking, his hold on your arm loosened up, slowly sliding down, past your elbow, fingers covered in leather do to the gloves he wore danced across the skin of your wrist. For a brief moment you thought he'd hold your hand, the thought making your heart flip in a way you've never experienced. But... He drops his hand and instead walks a little bit ahead of you, disappointment setting in deeply in your chest. Perhaps he only saw you as a friend, that thought makes you sigh softly and look at the back of his helmet. Perhaps you was ignorant for thinking a man like him could think more of you then a friend.

Boba wanted to hold your hand through, the mere thought of it appealing to him. But boba fett doesn't hold hands, he doesn't display any sort of affection, especially not publicly like hand holding.

It didn't take long for you both to arrive at his ship, Slave I. Once on the ship your met with Fennec and Cara casually talking amongst each other, both pairs of eyes falling on you and boba. Fennec takes one look at your face and gives boba a lifted brow.

"what happened?" she asks as cara shakes her head, already knowing that you most likely started a fight, you and here having met during a fight against each other along with din actually. She had a smirk and you chuckle at her lowly.

"she couldn't control her temper and feisty nature and it got her a broken nose" boba takes his helmet off and starts looking for his med supplies.

Fennec looks over your nose with a grimace, "it's broken alright. Where's the mandalorian?" she proceeded to ask boba questions as you surprisingly wait patiently for boba to get the med kit.

Finding it he walks back over to you, making you sit on a crate while he kneels in front of you, elbows resting on your knees as he wipes away the blood. The closeness almost made you blush, but you managed to compose yourself.

"he's most likely trying to salvage enough trust from his two friends to help him on his rescue, although this feisty dala here probably stomped that hope out the moment she held a knife to bo-katan's throat" boba explained and now with the helmet off, you could see the proud smile on his face, more like a smirk actually.

"what made you do that?" Cara laughs while cleaning her blaster rifle. Giving you a amused look.

Rolling your eye's you wince when boba starts putting bacta spray on the gash across the bridge of your nose. "they were being rude, so I taught them some manners.... Sort of" you wince again making boba mutter a apology. Cara chuckles and stands up, heading somewhere amongst the ship, Fennec saying something to boba you didn't quite hear as she walks off and out of the hull of the ship as well.

Boba sighs and stands up, adding the bandage to protect your new wound. Then he starts putting away the kit. "you really shouldn't have done that back there princess" he spoke while turning to look at you, arms crossed while leaning against the wall of the ship.

You sigh and start picking at the forming hole in your pants on your knee. You didn't regret what you did, you'd even do it again if it was to ever happen, but you didn't want to look boba in the eye's, you didn't want to see the angry or disappointed look he'd most likely have. So you picked at your pants, "I wasn't just going to sit there and listen to them basically trash talk you boba... You deserve better" you muttered the last part and can't help the little smile that tugs at your lips, you found it quite funny actually, hilarious that you had the upper hand in the fight and almost put her in her place.

"I don't deserve anything" he spoke gruffly. That made you snap your head up to give him a confused look. Eye's taking in every detail and scar on his face, you hated the look in his eye, the sight of self loathing. You stand up quickly and waltz over to the man and ever so cautiously placed a hand on his armored chest.

"you deserve more then what the galaxy has given you boba fett, you deserve a easier life. A damn break for once, from the stories you've told me... I know for sure you deserve only the greatest things in the galaxy. Especially after this" you trail your hand up his chest and ever so gently trace his scar's adorning his face with a look of admiration, a look boba didn't expect to see.

He grasps your wrist and holds your hand against his face. "I've been dealt with some tough obstacles in my life mesh'la, but the galaxy has finally took some pitty on me and gifted me a angel" he whispers gruffly, making sure only your ears heard the sappy words that left his mouth, he'd never live it down if Fennec heard him, she'd tease him up until he finally snapped and either killed her or glued her mouth shut. And have to settle on the last option because he would never kill the woman.

You smile at him, the sight one boba would store away in his mind forever, it was a beautiful sight. "surely you're not talking about me?" you mused, trying to hide the blush but boba saw the slight tent of your cheeks.

"who else would I be talking about?"

"well din is a absolute innocent angel under all that beskar" you joke making boba huff and give you his scowl. "but since you're obviously talking about me -

Boba rolls his eyes at your talking and grabs the back of your head and smashes his lips against yours, making you gasp in surprise but eagerly respond and kiss him back, eye's fluttering close as you cup his jaw now. Chest flush against his as his other hand grasps and squeezes at your hip. You've never felt more intoxicated by anything else in the galaxy then now, the man definitely knew how to kiss, no doubt highly experienced. His lips was chapped but addicting as yours moved against them roughly, his pace he set for the rude interruption of your words, but your not complaining.

That is until he pulls away with a smirk, making you pout up at him. "I don't expect a yes to come after this, but once I help you're mandalorian friend retrieve his kid me and Fennec are going to tatooine... Would you be willing to tag along with me?" he asked lowly, hushed almost as he cradles your face.

"you kiss me like that and expect me to say no? Of course I'm going with you boba, I don't plan on leaving you're side any time soon" you say, gazing up into those brown eye's of his. A smirk tugs at his lips. "who else would defend you're honor?" you add playfully, but a truth was laced in them.

Boba rests his forehead against yours before pulling away. "well then after this little rescue I'll give you enough time to bid you're friends goodbye and we'll make our way to tatooine" he gives you one last peck, it was rare of boba to do so, let his lips gently press against another's with such delicacy, but he liked the feeling of your soft lips in such a way. Almost tempted enough to do it again but you spoke up making him shrug that off for now.

"what are you going to do there?" you ask curiously, catching the smirk on his lips as he hums in thought.

"take what's mine... Perhaps even do what you said, take a little break" he starts walking to the cockpit with you hot on his heels, waiting for din's arrival.

Plopping down in a seat beside him, you lift a curious brow at his words, wondering what it is he'd be taking. But you decide not to pry any more. You'd figure out over time. "do you think bo and her friends will help us?" you stifle a laugh at the memory of the fight.

"if she's smart she'd stay far away from you princess, you had a murderous look in those pretty eye's of yours" he spoke with amusement.

"then she'll help us" you snort at your joke as boba shakes his head. A little blush on your cheeks from his compliment.

"I'm the luckiest man in the galaxy to have found someone like you, my feisty dala" he looks over at you from where he sat in the pilot seat.

It didn't take long after that for din to arrive, announcing bo and her friends would help. Later that night you told din that your and his ways would part as your path was wherever boba leads you. Din agreed with your decision and even felt happy for you, and after saving Grogu and bidding him goodbye as din allowed Luke to take him... You, Fennec and boba made your way to tatooine, where Boba had taken the throne that once belonged to jabba and Fortuna and given you a home. Your relationship bloomed from there and that's when you knew what you felt for him was love....

___________________________________________

[ink-herrscher]

yearning, in my bones, in my skin

— herrscher of sentience x fu hua

genre : hurt/comfort

warnings : none

wordcount : 2,615

summary : it didn't feel right, to just relax and leave everything to everyone else. but, humanity, hua learned, could help itself move on without her.

it's too late to follow her now, though.

all she can do is to wait until her xiǎo shí comes back.

The Huangshan pine tree is growing majestically.

Fu Hua steps over the dancing leaves, and touches the trunk of the tree. From here, in the middle of its golden shade, its branches seem to extend to forever, billowing gradient leaves like a sienna sunset, burning and glowing embers of the autumn skyline.

She raises a hand, and catches a wilting leaf in the middle of her palm. It's so small, shrinking, littered with decayed holes and insect bites along the edges. Hua sighs.

It will be winter again, soon. In a few more months, two whole years will have passed since she left.

The breeze blows the leaf in her hand away, stirring the fallen autumn leaves into a quiet dance that steals her dreams like a magic carpet. She catches sight of the leaf she held, falling far away from the rest, and keeps her eyes on it until it falls down the mountain cliff, and drifts into the river and debris below.

It will be winter, soon. She wonders what gift Senti will bring this time.

It was spring when she left, just a few months after the wintry death of the Herrscher of the End, somewhere far away on the moon. There were talks of the world healing, echoing outside of Hua's hospital room, but the outside world was void of anything but the thin snowflakes that fluttered across the windowsill and erased everything that ever existed.

"Old timer," Senti said, messily slicing an apple on a plate. There was already what was effectively a fruit salad on the bedside table, a bowl full of apples and oranges, pears, and everything she could loot from the kitchen. Hua could barely eat them all, but Senti only insisted on cutting them even smaller so she could eat and get better soon.

"Hm?"

The last slice fell to the bowl. Hua made a face at the amount of fruits she had to eat.

"I've decided to travel the world."

"Travel . . . ?" But she couldn't finish the thought, not with Senti shoving a slice of watermelon down her throat. She grunted in protest, and Senti eased up, allowing Hua to chew slower and take it easy.

"Yeah," she said, a half-smile on her lips as she watched Hua struggle to eat more. She had already been eating fruits non-stop since the day she woke up — and it had been at least a month since then. "Travel. I've been thinking a lot 'bout it, and yeah. I'm gonna travel around the world. See stuff for myself and . . . stuff."

Her hair fell to her side, and she shrank slightly into herself, as if suddenly shy. She twirled the fork in her hands, eyes sliding to the corner of the room.

There was a growing knot in her chest. Hua couldn't pinpoint the source, but it was there, like a gaping hole in between her ribs. Like choking on air. She cleared her throat, and tried to smile.

Her cheeks hurt. "That sounds good, xiǎo shí. Do you have a plan on where to go yet?"

"Not really." She raised the fork, and Hua bit off the rest of the watermelon. It spilled into her mouth as she sank her teeth into it, fresh and juicy. There was a seed still stuck inside. "I was thinking of just taking the next plane off and see where it lands me, y'know? I'll grab some cash from Theresa and survive on my own."

On my own. There was some irony there, she thought. Once upon a time, on my own was Hua's worst fear. And this time, it was Senti's greatest dream.

"That . . ." Sounded bad, really. Hua couldn't imagine not having a plan. But this was Senti, and Senti was always so carefree and spirited. She didn't need plans — she was someone that always felt like the wind would blow away if Hua didn't hold her hand at all times. So she forced herself to smile again. "Sounds nice. When are you going to go?"

"Soon," Senti said, offhandedly, and then glanced at her. "I was . . . I was wondering if you'd like to come with me?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "Come with you?"

"Yeah." A slice of banana this time. Hua chewed slowly, and Senti tapped her boots against the floor anxiously. It rang through the empty room, across the empty hall outside. "You know. When you get better, we can go. You haven't seen much of the world, either, right? You barely ever travelled."

No, Hua didn't. Travelling was a luxury; it was something a soldier like her could not afford. She only left her home when it was vital for a mission, and even then, she rarely stayed.

"We could see the world," Senti said, looking straight at Hua now. "Actually live life now that we don't have to fight. Besides, you don't really have anything now that your mission's done, right?"

Right. Hua has nothing without her mission.

The pale sky is slowly turning into gold. For a moment, the way the sunset hit her profile was so perfect that it was almost magical. Her golden irises constricted in the light, leaving an expanse of crimson like the sky in a painting of a dawn.

For a moment, Hua was almost going to say yes.

But there was still too much to do here, too many things to take care of. She had to help Theresa organize the new Shicksal, support her friends in whatever they will be pursuing after the war. Help humanity recover from the Honkai.

She didn't really know. Maybe her mission ended with the Honkai, but it didn't feel right to just leave everything to everyone else, either.

So Hua sighed, and shook her head. "I can't. Sorry. There's too much left to do here."

For a moment, Senti looked as if she was going to argue. Her brows scrunched, and she opened her mouth to speak — and then she sighed too, and looked away. Her fork stabbed a piece of apple. Hua obediently ate it up.

"Fine," she said, and pursed her lips. The sunset on her skin was so radiant that Hua almost felt guilty looking at someone so exquisite. "You never change, old timer."

Truly. Fu Hua never changes.

It was spring when she left.

True to her word, Senti stayed until Hua had recovered fully, dutifully looking after her and feeding her a bowl of fruits every day until she was finally let out of the hospital.

It was almost bitter, her day of departure. Senti had picked a place at random on Theresa's globe and excitedly told Hua that she would go there first — and then the next day, she was already all packed up, ready to go.

And now here they were.

"Are you sure you have everything?"

"Yeah, yeah. I do." Senti gave her the side-eye, and clicked her tongue. The airport was full of people, buzzing and humming. It was so early in the morning, but the place was already so awake. "Didn't you pack up with me?"

She did. She did. Hua knows the contents of her bag like the back of her palm, but looking at her single suitcase, it really felt like Senti was bringing far too little on her trip.

Then again, Senti never owned much.

But still.

Hua sighed again, and worried her elbow. Someone bumped into her shoulder — she turned to apologize, but the person had already left. Senti wore an annoyed expression on her face, one that faded into softness as they met eyes again.

"Hey, old timer," she said, and flicked her forehead lightly. "Stop being such a worrywart. You're gonna get wrinkles."

"I know."

"I'll be fine."

"I know."

"Besides, what's the worst that can happen, anyway? I'll get lost? As if that's a problem."

Her smile was half-hearted. "I know. I know, you'll be fine. I just can't help it."

Senti rolled her eyes again. "If you're so worried, just come with me, idiot."

But she couldn't. She knew she couldn't. Hua pursed her lips, and rested her hands on Senti's shoulder. "Xiǎo shí, if you ever need help or anything, remember to just contact me, okay? Keep your phone on you at all times."

"Yeah." Her eyes softened. "I'll remember. Don't worry too much, old timer."

A lady started reminding passengers to head to their gates. Senti looked over for a moment, and sighed. Her hands laid on top of Hua's, and she felt so warm against Hua's cold skin.

It's quiet between them, for a while.

"I gotta go now."

"Yeah."

Senti took her hands off her shoulders, and squeezed tight, before letting go. She wore a half-smile on her lips, and Hua would never forget the way she looked that day. The messy strands of her hair that fell off her ponytail, the one-half of a pair of earrings that she stole from Hua, the way her smile was equally lovely and heart-wrenching.

It was almost bitter, her day of departure. It felt like Hua was the only one who felt like that but, as she swallowed through the boulder in her throat, Senti ruffled her hair, and it almost looked as if she was holding back tears.

"Hey, hey, hey," she said. "I'm not gonna be gone forever. What's with that look?"

Hua really didn't know. She took Senti's presence beside her for granted, she guessed, and now, even a temporary separation stabbed through her heart like a sharp glass shard. She didn't really think for one second that Senti would want to leave her side like this.

Although, she thought, she should have expected this. Senti was too much of a free bird to keep trapped.

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, all right, old timer?" Senti said, frowning. "Don't skip meals, eat your fruits. And, uh. Sleep on time. And stop spending so much time training! You need to rest, too!"

Hua let out a choked laugh. "I will."

"Good."

Senti stared at her for a while, and Hua took the opportunity to memorize her, and the way her eyes were more amber and honey today, the way her lips pinch into a thin line when she's trying to hold back a sob and show a smile instead.

"Old timer," she started. "I . . ."

The lady on the microphone repeated her reminder. Senti glanced impatiently at the kiosk, as Hua leans over, and wraps her arms tightly around her neck.

Senti stiffened in shock in her arms. But before she could return the hug, Hua pulled away, and gently pushed her to her gate.

"Take care," Hua said, as Senti reluctantly took her suitcase, and walked away. She looked back, once, and Hua waved at her goodbye until she couldn't see her in the waves of people anymore.

It was almost bitter, her day of departure.

Her first gift came just weeks after she left.

It was a little trinket from one of her destination spots, a few bookmarks with pressed flowers and leaves that fell from an envelope with a letter and a few photos in it. They were badly taken, blurry and shaky, terribly unaesthetic views of rolling hills and a field of flowers, and Senti herself, grinning happily at the camera.

It was at that point, she thought, that the loneliness that Senti's absence brought was worth it. She looked so happy, and the letters she wrote were so full of life, rambling and nonsensical, almost like diary pages ripped out of her notebook.

Reading her letters in between work shifts became a pastime, and then a habit, and then, when there was nothing left to do, they became her only sense of comfort.

Humanity, Hua learned, could help itself move on without her. But by the time she realized that, she couldn't go to accompany Senti anymore. The letters had no return address, and whenever she asked where these packages came from, the postal service could only shrug and give her no answer.

She could go and follow the trail of Senti's pictures, but it almost felt impossible to meet with her when she seemed to be in a new place every week. 

This was fine, too. There was a lingering sense of loneliness that wouldn't leave her, a sense of emptiness despite being in her friends' presence, but it was okay. Senti was enjoying herself, and there was only so much travelling an adventurer could do before she felt homesick, and came back home.

Maybe, then, Hua could join her to see the world, too.

But it will be winter, soon. In a few more months, two whole years will have passed since she left.

It's a little cooler today, compared to yesterday. Hua draws her coat tight to her chest, and follows the golden trail back to her house. It's lonely here, up in Taixuan, but it holds a sense of familiarity that she could never find in her cold sheets, alone in the Shicksal Headquarters or the Salt Lake Base.

This is familiar. This is comforting. It's almost nice, and the smoke filtering out from the hearth makes the temple look as if it were a house made for two.

It's almost nice. It's almost warm.

The box of Senti's letters is still on the table. She had been in the middle of rereading her letter about her trip to the cold, snowy depths of the North when she came out to watch the sunset outside. She catches Senti's smiling face in her photograph, and smiles back.

Maybe tonight, she'll brew one of the tea Senti sent her last week. It's already cold, after all, and Hua needs all the warmth she can get.

She tucks the letter and picture back into the box, and sighs.

She wonders what gift Senti will bring this time.

But winter has come, and all the leaves of the ancient tree have already wilted and buried beneath the pale snow. Its branches are cold, shivering with every gust of wind, and Hua feels her soul shiver alongside.

There is no sign of her letters today, as well. She should go to the nearest postal office tomorrow. Maybe it got stuck in the rush of deliveries. Maybe the mountain is too steep to climb in this winterfall.

Maybe she should have stayed in Shicksal. But Theresa already promised to deliver any letters from Senti that gets delivered to them to Taixuan, and staying there only makes Hua feel even more antsy, alone.

The wind blows again. She bites her lip against the cold, and sighs, patting the old tree as she trudges back inside again.

The snow ceunches behind her. Hua turns around, and finds red eyes staring right at her.

Hua blinks. And blinks again.

"Xiǎo shí . . . ?" she says tentatively, into the falling indigo evening.

Senti smiles. She's holding onto the tree, leaning against her knee for support as she pants slightly, but the sweat on her brow only highlights the way the dimming sunset turns her eyes into rubied gold.

"Hey," she says, and stands up on wobbly knees. "Miss me, old timer?"

Oh.

Oh.

Stumbling, almost falling, Hua manages to shamble over to where she is. Hesitating, because what if this is just another dream — what if she is just daydreaming again?

But Senti wraps her arms around her neck tightly, laughing, and when Hua returns her hug, she does not disappear like a dream. She's here. Senti's here.

"I'm home," she says.

"Xiǎo shí," Hua says. Her heart feels warm, like the prick of tears in her eyes. She buries her face in her shoulder, and laughs, too. "Welcome home. Welcome back home."

[xiaomomowrites]

home

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary:  “Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?” 

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Or; Zhongli struggles to define what exactly “home” means to him.

Find it on Ao3!

This part takes place between act V and Zhongli, Come Down. I know I posted this series totally out of order, please forgive me for my lack of organization :,D

A/N: First of all, I finally have a beta reader!! She’s helped me through the process of writing this and I’m incredibly thankful for her support. I accidentally made her cry with this fic though, even if it wasn’t necessarily sad?? Regardless I appreciate her feedback haha. 

Oh my, I feel like I’ve been writing these two being really soft for too long. After this, I really need to face the music and write these two fighting. The time has come. They won’t be in the honeymoon phase forever!! I’m gonna vibe check all of you. 

Also, do yourself a favor and listen to the songs Home by Michael Buble and Sparks by Coldplay after or during you read this. You’re welcome.

Lastly, you can find me on Twitter @/xiaoscribbles where I’m extremely active and talk too much about Genshin. I love making friends there!

Enjoy <3 -u.n.

--

Zhongli never had a place to call home. 

Or rather, he never bothered to find one of his own and commit to it.

He was always too mobile, too nomadic. He had places to be, people and adepti to see, contracts to see through. Zhongli never found himself settling into one place for too long. Sure, when he was Rex Lapis, he had nested many times. He was a beast whose presence was too large to be confined into one space, so he would glide to the highest mountain in Liyue with ample space for a dragon like him, and settle. Zhongli remembered how he would make it as comfortable as possible for himself using all kinds of things he would pick up on his travels. A deep purr of satisfaction would rumble through him as his scaled belly would make contact with the coolness of the earth, and Rex Lapis would allow himself to relax against the stone, body sinking as if he were weightless. Although, no matter how he shifted, tossed and turned when he tried to rest, something was always missing. 

Even the familiar feeling of the Liyuan ground was not enough to fill the void in his chest.

It was satisfying, sure, but never completing. 

Hence, his lack of understanding of the human desire to settle down in one home for the rest of their short, yet meaningful lives. 

Were they not itching to get up and go somewhere else? See the world? Appreciate the land beneath their feet in all its entirety? Zhongli failed to comprehend. Even an ancient being like him fell short in understanding the idea of a “home”. 

Well, what consisted of a home, anyway? Four walls and a roof over their heads? A kitchen filled with food? A soft bed with layers and layers of sheets? What was the meaning of all that, when the true beauty of the world was beyond those four walls, high into the sky, and deep beneath the sea? What kind of pleasure could possibly come out of being domesticated? 

Nevertheless, Zhongli did make an old promise to try to understand humans as they were. So sure, Zhongli supposed he could appreciate the art of architecture. He saw how hard people worked to build these beautiful houses with intricate designs to maximize safety for the residents excited to inhabit them. It was endearing, Zhongli thought, how enthusiastic humans got about a house. The idea of settling down with their loved ones would give them so much serotonin, so much drive. It was inspiring to him. Zhongli had always hoped that one day, he could feel the same way about someone.

So why couldn’t bring himself to understand the joy in this “home” everyone spoke of? What was he missing? Was he missing the duvet? The one thousand thread count sheets? Was he missing the fine China he saw peddlers selling on roads far from town? Because he had tried his best, living in his mortal form, to find the simple pleasure in decorating his home. 

But no matter what he did, no matter how many throw pillows he placed on the couch, he simply could not deny the gaping hole in his chest when he went to bed at night. He had reached a point where even cooking for one every night upset him so, and he would go to bed disgruntled and hollow. The vast margins left on the king sized bed in the middle of the night kept Zhongli awake.  Though he did not even need sleep, he had tried his best to form what the humans called a “proper sleeping schedule”. Apparently, according to Hu Tao, sleeping at four in the morning and waking at seven for work was “not suitable”.

But in truth, what was he supposed to do? Pray tell, what could he possibly do to absolve the issue of the chasm growing in his chest with each passing night? 

“Xiansheng!” A jovial voice snaps him out of his reverie. 

Zhongli looks up from his mundane paperwork to see a familiar head of red hair bounding toward him languidly. Oh, what a sight for sore eyes.

“Childe,” he greets, “did you pester Miss Hu Tao into letting you back here again?”

“Pester?” Childe brings a hand to his chest to mock his hurt, “I hardly have to bother her to come back here. A simple ‘you look fantastic today’ is always my ticket in.”

Zhongli scoffs fondly. “How can I help you, Childe?” He sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, amber eyes following the Harbinger curiously.

“Well your break is in ten minutes, so I figured I’d come grab you for lunch at Wanmin?” Childe plants two hands flat on the cherry red oak desk and leans forward into Zhongli’s space. There’s his signature teasing smile spreading slyly across his face, the one he knows Zhongli won’t be able to resist.

Zhongli hums in approval. “Sure, let me just wrap up this last form and I should be ready to go shortly.”

Childe drops down to his elbows in response and rests his face between his palms. “You sure? We could just go now, you know. I got Hu Tao consulting Ying’er about the new fragrance for the next hour or so.”

Zhongli leans forward and meets him in the middle. “I must be responsible, Childe. If my lunch break is at noon, then I will not leave my post until then.”

Childe pouts, jutting his bottom lip out cutely in an attempt to convince him otherwise. Zhongli, immovable as ever, simply leans forward and captures his lips between his own. The Harbinger makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and presses closer, positively humming when the ex-Archon reciprocates. But the older man is quick to get back to work, pulling away as quick as he came, but not before he nips at Childe’s bottom lip. The ginger whines petulantly at the loss of contact. 

“Have a seat, Ajax.” Zhongli speaks, a hair’s width away from kissing him again. Childe grumbles, but agrees regardless. He seats himself in one of the plush armchairs located in the corner of the office and makes himself comfortable for the next ten minutes. 

Zhongli readjusts himself in his seat and picks his pen back up, glancing back down at the form he had already completed. He blinked owlishly at it. He must have finished signing it while Childe was talking without realizing what he had done. Regardless, he moves onto the next document to peruse silently. Mid sentence, he scoffs playfully, shaking his head at the thought of the ginger distracting him so. Is he even surprised at this point? Not even a little bit. The ginger has an incomprehensible hold on his heart, one that he doesn’t really want to shake off.

“Something funny, Xiansheng?” Childe teases from his seat. He’s reclined in his chair, relaxed, head lolling against the cushioned headrest. His eyes are closed and his shoulders are drooping into the leather. He’s relaxed, for once, and the thought of Ajax allowing himself to let his guard down in his presence makes Zhongli’s heart thump happily in his chest.

“Not particularly,” Zhongli pushes himself up with a groan. Goodness, his joints are getting tired. He pads over to where Childe is seated and forcefully makes room for himself on a chair that is clearly made for one person. Childe lets out a surprised yelp at the sudden intrusion but scoots over to make room, anyway. Zhongli makes himself comfortable by angling his body to where it’s being cradled by the junction between the armrest and the back, and opens his arms as a silent invitation.

Childe takes it happily and launches forward to burrow into Zhongli’s chest. He rests a gloved hand over his heart and snuggles closer, inhaling the deep scent of silk flowers and leather. Zhongli’s arms come around to strap him against his chest, gloved hands petting his sides as he presses a kiss to red hair. The contact immediately vanquishes the discourse in his mind. He squeezes him tight for good measure, forcing a grunt out of his Tartaglia. 

“Xiansheng,” he calls. 

“Hm?”

“You’re working too hard again.”

“Am I?” He questions absentmindedly. “And here I thought I was pulling my weight just fine.”

Childe snorts. “Pulling your weight? You know I make enough for the both of us. You could retire and stay at home, relaxing and reading books, or whatever it is you do at home.”

Ah, there it is again.

Home.

For the second time that day, Zhongli is struck with confusion.

“What is home to you, Childe?” He asks, voice soft and far away. Childe frowns against his chest in confusion.

“Home?” He parrots.

“Yes, home. What is ‘home’ to you, Tartaglia?” 

“Hmm,” the Harbinger hums, tapping a gloved finger against the ex-Archon’s chest idly as he speaks. “I suppose home is Snezhnaya. Home is what I grew up in. The unbearable cold and the old cottage house. Ice fishing with my siblings, massaging my mother’s back. Those things are all home to me.”

Zhongli ponders. Of course that is what home means. Familiarity, yes? So, technically, his home was Liyue. The hustle and bustle of trade by the harbor, the loud sizzling woks at the food stands, the loud marketers on the street that work hard day and night, the enthusiastic story tellers spewing exaggerated lies— that was all home to him. 

So why, then, was Zhongli still dissatisfied with this conclusion? Home should obviously be Liyue. He created this land with his own two hands. Gave people the very drive that keeps them alive today; he gave the idea of mora and fair trade and economic prosperity. He’s watched countless faces pass him every day, every year, every century. He’s seen new faces, young faces, old faces, familiar faces, too, the ones he had seen on older souls. Reincarnated souls. Zhongli knew those souls. He’s had dinner with many of them on multiple occasions. 

And it was no secret that Zhongli was well known in his hometown. Every business owner was familiar with his eloquent way of speaking and ambitious ways of buying. With the arrival of Childe, every business owner all but doubled their enthusiasm now that Mister Zhongli finally had a means to pay. People knew Zhongli, they adored him. They admired his amber eyes and long, beautiful hair, the ends of it looking like it had been dipped in melted mora. When he walked, people’s eyes followed. They would stare longingly at his beautifully crafted coat, his single earring, the fine leather gloves that cover his deft hands, and they would admire the way he walked with purpose, and with fire. A confidence so set in stone, it was almost difficult for one to even approach Mister Zhongli. For so long, he was considered Liyue’s most handsome bachelor, until of course Tartaglia came along and swept him off of his feet, capturing his attention in a way no one else could ever imagine imitating.

Yet, despite all the attention his people lavished upon him, there was always a nagging feeling of isolation nipping at him in the back of his mind. Despite creating the very ground beneath their feet, he simply felt like he did not fit in. Only when he was with Tartaglia did he truly feel like he belonged anywhere. It was rather inexplicable. There was something about the way Tartagali’s presence wrapped around him with a level of tenderness he had never experienced. It covered him like a gentle embrace, welcomed him without judgement, and loved him without expecting anything in return. The thought of Ajax himself made Zhongli’s heart swell

Speaking of which, the said man was now pressed tightly against his chest tracing lazy patterns into the fabric of his coat. Their long legs were tangled where they were dangling off the seat, with Tartaglia’s foot rubbing affectionately against the older man’s ankle. 

Oh, how far they have come. 

“But,” Tartaglia suddenly interjects, jolting Zhongli out of his thoughts. “If my family were to come here to Liyue to stay, then I suppose Liyue would be home, too.”

Zhongli hums. “Naturally. I’m sure they would find the variety of houses here in Liyue nice and peaceful, perfect for a new home.”

At that, Childe lets out a light laugh. “Honestly? They could live in a cardboard box in Inazuma, and I would still call that home.”

Zhongli frowns. Well now he’s even more confused than when he started. Since when was a cardboard box a suitable home for a human? It completely lacked all the appliances the houses here in Liyue had. Why would Childe settle for that? He of all people was aware of the love he holds for his family, there simply was no way he would call that a suitable home for his family. 

“I don’t understand,” he says instead, “a cardboard box, Tartaglia? You do not strike me as the type to settle for such an...unbecoming home. Especially for your family.”

“No, no, Xiansheng,” the Harbinger chuckles, sitting up slightly so he can look Zhongli in the eye. “I was just exaggerating. And, home isn’t always supposed to be a house, you know. Those two things can be mutually exclusive. Maybe not all the time, but, definitely most of the time.”

Well this was certainly new. Now he truly did not understand what it meant to have a home.

“Apparently I do not know.”

Childe sits upright to look down at the ex-Archon.

“Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

Childe is aware he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Once he starts talking about his siblings, he simply cannot stop. “It wouldn’t matter where I was if I couldn’t hear my siblings from the other room. If I didn’t wake up to Tonia’s loud blow dryer every morning, or if I didn’t hear Anthon trying to talk to her over the blowing, then it isn’t home. If I can’t hear Teucer’s footsteps coming toward me asking about a new Mr. Cyclops toy, it isn’t home. Not to me. But like I said, it’s different for everyone.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?” 

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Childe pushes himself up and off the chair, stretching and yawning obnoxiously. “Great,” he replies once his jaw finishes unhinging itself from that yawn, “let’s eat, I’m starving.”

—

To put it simply, Zhongli rethinks his definition of home all night. After he gets home from his dinner date (Tartaglia tugged on his sleeves until he agreed to leave his shift early in favor of a new restaurant that had popped up recently), he closes the door behind him to take in the composition of his home. Tartaglia had been the one to pick out most of the furniture, so although it lacked many of the traditional Liyuan decor Zhongli would have furnished the place with himself, it had a nice touch of Tartaglia everywhere he went. 

His couch, for example, was a deep mahogany leather that stayed cool to the touch despite the hottest of summers. Zhongli’s dresser was nice and tall, a deep chestnut brown cut from the forests of Snezhnaya to match his bed frame. His bed was elevated by an incredibly grandiose four post frame that hung a beautiful golden translucent curtain all around the bed, draping the perimeter and creating an ethereal atmosphere for when he sleeps at night. 

(“It’s kinda sexy, don’t you think?” Childe had asked one day, while he was pondering which bed frame to buy for his boyfriend. Not that he needed to, considering Zhongli finally has a stable salary, he just wanted to.

“Ajax,” Zhongli had said disapprovingly, “what about it is sexy to you? 

“I don’t knowww,” the Harbinger hums, “maybe it looks like I would feel like I’m on cloud nine when we’re, you know…”

“You can say sex, Ajax, I believe in you.”

“Oh stop that!” Childe whacks him playfully with the catalogue, “I’m being a good boyfriend and getting you a beautiful bed frame cut from the finest oak tree and sheets woven with high quality silk! You could be nicer to me, you know.” He’s pouting, and he knows it. Zhongli’s eyes soften.

Zhongli shakes his head, laughing. “You know you don’t need to do that, you know.”

“I want to,” Ajax persists, “this is your first actual living space as a mortal! I want it to be perfect. I refuse to have my boyfriend, who is a literal god, sleeping on a bed with no bed frame. Unacceptable.”

Zhongli smiles and watches him as he continues to ramble about all the different bed frames he could buy. Oh, his love for this boy knows no end.)

The hints of Ajax everywhere he goes is how he keeps himself sane each night. His possessive urge to be around him every second of every day (courtesy of being a dragon deity his entire six thousand year life span) is soothed with the smell of him on his sheets and the extra toothbrush by the sink. One of Tartaglia’s scarves is folded neatly on the arm of his couch, and during those nights where he truly feels Ajax’s absence, he’ll hold the red fabric close and breathe the scent in deeply. The smell alone is enough to rock him to sleep on some nights, but on others, it simply is not enough. On those nights, he finds himself reading book after book about Snezhnaya culture until he passes out from exhaustion. 

One would think that it would be better for them to just live together. Given that they spent every second outside of work with each other, even going so far as walking the long route home just to avoid saying goodbye, a person would look at the way they held each other close in public and think that they’ve been married for quite some time already. 

But alas, they had agreed to take their relationship slow in the beginning. The both of them had much to adjust to, given that one of them was a notoriously fierce Harbinger, and the other was an ex-Archon adjusting to the world without his gnosis. They both had complex schedules that they were much too familiar and comfortable with to just up and leave for another person. There was a certain period of time that they had agreed to spend apart, well, as “apart” as they could be, before they decided to do anything drastic, like move in together. 

There was too much to consider, anyway, Zhongli reflects as he gets ready for bed. Would their living habits even align? Would Tartaglia even be a good roommate? Would he take out the trash responsibly? As much as he loves the ginger with his entire heart, he doesn’t think he could do it for long if Tartaglia was the type to walk around with shoes on. Such an act should be considered illegal, anyway.

Waiting was the right thing to do. 

Right? 

The nights Tartaglia spent with him were the nights he could sleep a full, uninterrupted eight hours. They were the nights that Zhongli felt himself truly relax into the sheets and sink into a blissful sleep, knowing his beloved was being held impossibly close. And if nighttime was therapeutic for him, mornings felt ethereal. The mornings where he rose with the sun to be met with the sight of Tartaglia next to him were the mornings he felt like he could fly again, and soar through the open Liyue skies in his rawest form forever, so long as Tartaglia was with him. 

In fact, more often than not, Zhongli thought about the way it would feel to have Childe by his side as he explored the skies again. He would think about the way he would have to strap him down, nice and close so he doesn’t fall off his back, and then take off high into the sky. Not too high, lest he accidentally give his boyfriend a heart attack, but high enough to hear those delightful shrieks Childe will let out when he’s excited. He thinks about the way Childe could grasp onto his mane for security, hands threading through golden locks, legs tightening around his torso to avoid falling. Oh, he thinks about this a lot. 

But, waiting was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted was for Childe to feel uncomfortable with the pace that their relationship was going and make him uneasy. Besides, just because he was a possessive dragon at heart, it didn’t mean Ajax was willing to cater to his needy tendencies. So, he promised himself that he would create a reasonable distance between them for the time being.

Why then, did he hate this distance with every fiber of his being? 

Why is the distance so unbearable, especially at night? 

Why is he so unsettled with the very few miles between them? It’s not like Zhongli is in Liyue and Childe is in Snezhnaya. Tartaglia is literally only at the inn. 

Yet he craves nothing more but to be close to him at all times. Zhongli’s skin itches with the desperate desire to feel him by his side when he goes to bed, when he wakes up, and all the moments in between. Does that make him clingy? Maybe. But old habits die hard. 

Zhongli huffs and looks down at his flattened pillow with disdain. No amount of fluffing will restore it to a state that is suitable for his likes. Even the elegantly woven silk night robe wrapped around his body offers little to no comfort. 

He glances at the clock. 

It’s only half past midnight. If all went well with Tartaglia’s shift, he should be home now, fresh out of the shower. 

Without thinking twice, Zhongli throws together an overnight bag and rushes out the door. 

—

“Coming, I’m coming,” Childe calls to the incessant knocks at his door. The knuckles continue to rap against the barrier, though, and Childe’s fingers itch to summon a water blade in the case that things go south. Considering that there is rarely anyone that would dare to disturb him at this time of night, Childe would say his precautionary measures are reasonable. He had summoned an angry water god, after all. It was only a matter of time before the angry mobs got to him. 

The knocks sound again, and Childe angrily ruffles his hair against the towel. If they could just wait one second, he could answer the door with dry hair, but no. Peace was not an option, apparently, and neither was a perfectly fluffed head of hair.

He stomps toward the door and swings it open, ready to scold whoever had—

“Xiansheng!” He startles when he sees Zhongli standing in the doorway, donning a simple black t-shirt tucked into high waisted pants that were loose and slightly flared at the bottom, and his feet were covered by simple strappy sandals. Childe vaguely remembers purchasing those pants for him when he had mentioned wanting more loose and liberating clothes. The ex-Archon looks good like this. He looks… impossibly soft. Vulnerable, almost. There’s a distant look in his amber eyes that has Childe mildly concerned, though. Childe tries to ignore the sudden urge to protect him to his last dying breath.

“What are you doing here?” He sidesteps and reaches out to drag his boyfriend in. “I thought we had already discussed you sleeping so late! I know you’re an adeptus, you don’t require sleep, blah blah blah, but still, you—“

“I missed you,” Zhongli stated so matter of factly. “I wanted to see you. So I came here.” 

Childe gawks at him and closes the door slowly. So he had just walked all the way here?! At this hour?! Goodness, the audacity—

“Xiansheng,” he whines instead, dragging the older man into an embrace. He wraps his arms around his neck and presses his cheek into his hair. “You can’t just say those things. It’s impossible for me to love you more.”

Zhongli holds him with desperation, welcoming the hug so enthusiastically that Childe knows there’s something to be said. 

“Can I stay the night?” The adeptus asks once they pull apart. 

Childe looks at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t even need to ask! Go, make yourself comfortable. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner?” 

Zhongli drops his bag by his side of the bed and takes a seat, still watching Childe with careful eyes. 

“I’ve eaten,” he answers carefully. “I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable at… home… so I came here.” 

Childe frowns, and joins him on the bed. He flips the covers open and clambers in, resting back against the headboard. “Not comfortable? Is something wrong with your place?” 

“Maybe,” Zhongli tries, “I really don’t know. Frankly I’ve been conflicted about… many things… recently, and I feel as if I have reached an impasse. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Zhongli,” Tartaglia says, suddenly serious, “how come this is the first time I’m hearing of this?” His voice drops an octave, the worry seeping into his tone. 

Zhongli reclines and rests against the headrest, too. “I did not know how to express my troubles to you, mainly because I’m having trouble defining it myself.” 

Well, that’s fair enough. Tartaglia can’t find it in himself to be mad at that reasoning.

“Well,” Tartaglia begins, reaching for Zhongli’s hand and hugging his arm to his chest. He scoots closer and uses Zhongli’s shoulder as a pillow. “Why don’t you just start rambling and maybe it’ll come to you.”

“I think I have a vague idea, actually,” Zhongli adjusts himself to make himself more comfortable for Ajax. The both of them find themselves staring up at the ceiling as they converse. “Remember when I asked you what ‘home’ means to you?”

“Of course,” Tartaglia answers. Oh, he has an idea of where this is going.

“Well, I’m unsure of what it means to me.”

Bingo.

“What it means to you?” The Harbinger asks, craning his neck to look up at him. Zhongli hums, affirmative. 

“Yes, I’ve been struggling to define the term for myself. I’ve been observing others much more closely and how they define their own home, but I’m afraid it has made me more confused.”

Tartaglia juts out his bottom lip in contemplation. “What do you mean?” 

Zhongli takes a deep breath, a long explanation at the tip of his tongue. Tartaglia braces himself, as he usually does.

“Today you told me home was your family. Miss Xiangling told me home was her father, and the smell of their kitchen. Young Xingqiu told me his home was within whatever book he was reading, even describing it as his safe space. And Miss Ningguang, most peculiar of all, had told me home was when she was out at sea, but only when Captain Beidou was by her side. Mind you, I had fully expected it to be the Jade palace, considering the built it from the ground up.” Zhongli rambles, “and I just found it strange how so many humans find different definitions for the word home. Such a simple word, too, so imagine my surprise when I discover it’s true complexity.”

“I’ve encountered many things in my life, Ajax. I have met so many people in this lifetime and watched them grow, watched them die, and even watched some be reincarnated. But I think…” he trails off, and the warmth in his eyes glimmer as he reaches an epiphany. “I think I am struggling to define the term because I have never been presented with the idea of stability. Things are always changing. The world around me continues to warp and I have noticed, in my time so far, that humans find the need for stability and reassurance because of the nature of their short lives. That is where I am lacking.”

—

Try as he might, Tartaglia takes slight offense to his statement. 

Lacking stability? The thought was bitter on his tongue.

Was… was Childe not enough? 

No, no, he forcefully derailed that train of thought, he came here tonight because you’re the only thing he can rely on in his life right now. Show him that.

“Well,” Childe starts carefully, and thanks the stars that his voice is steady. “What about me?”

Zhongli makes a confused noise. “What about you?” 

“Do you consider me as a stable thing in your life?” Childe prods, digging his cheek deeper into his shoulder.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Zhongli snorts. 

Childe unironically feels an ache in his chest. He stills against Zhongli. Ouch. 

Luckily, Zhongli is at least able to pick up on his sudden discomfort, and he’s quick to follow up his statement. 

“You misunderstand, Ajax, you being wildly chaotic is a beautiful thing in and of itself.” Zhongli gently pries Childe off his arm to look at him directly. As expected, Childe is upset. He’s got the same glassy eyes he always dons when he’s upset, but doesn’t want to admit it, and his bottom lip is red and obviously bitten in an attempt to keep himself from feeling unreasonably angry. 

“Oh,” Zhongli coos at the sight, “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine,” Childe blinks hard, “I’m just being dumb.”

“You’re not being dumb,” Zhongli is quick to negate his self-deprecative tendencies, “I must have come off very harsh just now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Childe thumps a fist against his chest, “it’s fine, really.”

“As I was saying,” the Archon continues, “nothing about my life so far has been stable, Ajax. Things are constantly changing. Time continuously flows, and it simply does not wait for any man. Unfortunately, I have seen many people come and go. And unfortunately, one day you will become one of them--”

“Zhongli stop,” Childe interrupts him. He’s angry, now. His brows are furrowed and there’s an evident frown on his face. There’s a slight scowl across his lips where there used to be a precious smile just moments ago. “What the hell?” He asks angrily. 

“Ajax,” Zhongli scolds softly, “it would be in your best interests if you let me finish.”

“Well, not if you’re just gonna talk about death,” Childe retorts. He’s aware that he sounds childish, but such a topic is not to be taken to lightly. Especially when it revolves around him, and what he would be leaving behind. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

“Whether or not you’re stable, whether or not you’ll be here forever, you are the most important thing to me, probably ever.” He speaks with a certainty that makes Childe shiver. “You are the first person in a very long time that has made me want to try to grasp at the fleeting seconds I have with you, Ajax. You drive me crazy. And I love you for it, because never in my six thousand years have I had as much fun as when I am with you.”

Dammit, Childe is crying now. Zhongli has such a way with words, how could he not? Dating him is just one, huge, glorified emotional rollercoaster. Zhongli brushes a stray, reluctant tear away with the pad of his ungloved hand. 

“Frankly, stability is overrated,” the ex-Archon smiles at the soft giggle that escapes his beloved’s lips. “I have found, albeit slowly, that I would rather have someone loud and rambunctious than someone slow and settled. That is my role, if anything. There simply cannot be two of us, can there?”

A soft “no” is huffed as laughter from Childe. What a boring relationship that would be, truly.

“But if it is stability you seek, Ajax, let me be that for you. Let me be here, solid as stone and steadfast. Let me be the pillar of strength you need to turn to in times of trouble. Okay?” He brushes a knuckle gently across his skin.

Childe makes a sound that sounds a little broken and a little delirious. “When did this become about me, Xiansheng?” 

“To me, it’s always been about you,” Zhongli smiles fondly. Childe feels as if he’s been shot in the heart.

Childe gives him a shaky smile and nods. He can’t seem to control his heart at the moment, so instead, he says, “You’re my home, Zhongli.”

--

The gears seemed to finally click somewhere in Zhongli’s chest. The hollow feeling inside suddenly swelled with a sense of nostalgia, bringing with it a feeling of peace and serenity. Zhongli’s eyes widen, and the ex-Archon looks down at Childe with a sudden air of solid certainty. Childe almost shrinks at the intensity of his gaze. 

“Of course,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Of course it’s you.”

“What?” 

“How could I be so blind?” Zhongli cups his face with both hands, and Childe reciprocates by placing both palms on his wrists. Confused, but following along. Cor lapis eyes stare straight into his soul, unforgiving as it digs deeper and deeper into what makes him whole. 

“Xiansheng?” Ajax asks, dazed by the intensity of Zhongli’s stare. God, his eyes are so golden.

“It’s you, Ajax,” for once, his voice cracks and he loses composure, “you… are home. You are home. To me, that is my definition of home. I only ever feel-- I only ever feel like I belong when I am with you. It was so obvious, and I--”

“Zhongli,” Ajax gently pries off the hands cupped around his face. His heart can’t handle this right now. It’s too much. He’s too in love, he needs to do something or he’ll explode. He stares directly into those beautiful, mesmerizing golden eyes. Ajax cradles Zhongli’s hands in his own, petting over his knuckles, when he asks, “Marry me?”

His eyes widen comically, as if they weren’t already the size of saucepans with his first epiphany.

“Oh.”

So that’s what he was missing. 

“I know we said we would take it slow, and I know I’m young, or whatever” Childe begins to ramble, “but fuck going slow, Xiansheng, it’s been months and all I want to do is go to sleep with you next to me. I know what I want and it seems like you do, too, but if I misread that then--”

Zhongli hushes him with an incessant press of his lips against Childe’s. It is a loving kiss, yes, but it is filled with a desperation that only the both of them understand. It is a kiss that is so different from the others; one full of certainty and ambition, a kiss full of overwhelming commitment. The longing behind the contact is an answer in and of itself, but he pulls away to speak regardless. 

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against Childe’s, “yes.”

That night, Zhongli finally comes to the conclusion that home does not have to mean four walls and a roof. It doesn’t pertain to any kind of fancy kitchen appliances, or four post bed frames. Zhongli quickly learns that it doesn’t have to be about a place, and all the stories it tells. It’s not even Liyue, the very land he built himself. It has nothing to do with any of that. In fact, the sheer ridiculousness of Zhongli’s inner conflict has him rolling.

Instead, it has everything to do with the red head beneath him. It has to do with the way he calls his name in the middle of the night, claws his hands down his back and juts his hips forward, desperately seeking friction. Home has everything to do with swollen lips, red from being kissed, cheeks hot pink from the heat slowly filling the room, and strong thighs clenching and unclenching around his waist. Home has to do with his precious Snezhnayan soulmate.

Simply, home is Ajax. 

[imaginealpha]

I saved this screenshot over three years ago.

Today, at 10:50 PM, I made a document titled "I'm gonna bang this out in an hour and submit it at 11:58pm because that's just how I am" and wrote this for my school's literary magazine. I submitted it at 1:15 AM, because that's also just how I am. It's a little long, but that's okay.

The screech of the train’s brakes cuts through the night air, startling you from your light doze. There aren’t many people in the station, and no one seems to want to get on. Except you, of course, because you want to be anywhere but here.

A man hangs out the window of the car in front of you. “First time?” he says, his eyes crinkling sympathetically.

“I’ve ridden the train before,” you snap back defensively.

“That’s not what I asked.” He gestures to the open door.

You lean against the window, making sure to keep your head off of it before the slight shaking gives you a headache. The buildings whipping by are quickly replaced by a rolling countryside. You suppose this is when you consider your place in the universe, as one does on the midnight train going anywhere, but you are content to just watch.

A voice breaks the fog in your mind. “I need your ticket, dear.”

An older woman stands by your seat, the only other person in the otherwise empty car. Wordlessly, you fish your ticket stub out of your pocket and hand it over.

She clicks her tongue as she punches a series of holes into it. “It’s a lovely view on the way, dear. Make sure to watch. I believe it’s quite a sight for the soul.”

She hands it back. When you turn back to the window, you don’t hear her leave.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you closed your eyes. When you force them open, a dusty brown expanse stretches outside the glass, the surface pockmarked with tiny craters. The sky is pitch black but twinkling with a million points of light, steady companions in an ever-changing eternity. A blue planet covered in faint green landmasses and swirling white clouds hangs above, too big and too small at the same time. For a moment, you feel a little less lonely.

In the distance in front of you, a single building sits, quite literally in the middle of nowhere. A neon sign blazes brightly, but you can’t quite make it out. Thin tendrils of smoke rise from the front, where a small group of young adults are sitting around in folding chairs.

As you watch, one of them throws back their head and laughs, while another one stands, holding an empty bottle to their mouth like a microphone. You can almost hear them. That could be you someday.

There is a young child across the row.

“How did you get here?” you ask, a little dazedly.

They wrinkle their nose. “That’s not a fair question. I rolled the dice, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeat numbly. “Why isn’t it fair?”

“Because everyone rolls the dice, so you’re gonna get the same answer every time.” They shrug simply. “It’s the only way to get on the train, you know. You roll the dice, and if your number is low enough, you can choose to come on the train and roll again. It says so on your ticket.”

You dig out your ticket. It’s punched so full of holes that you can’t make out any of the text anymore.

“I didn’t roll the dice,” you hear yourself say.

The child just stares at you. “Of course you did.”

“Of course,” you say again, for lack of a better answer. “Where are they, then? So I can roll again?”

“That’s not how it works.” The child is rolling their eyes now, and you vaguely wonder if it is socially acceptable to use them as makeshift dice. (It isn’t, obviously.) “Ask me a more interesting question, please.”

“Who are you? Where are you from? And-” you twist around again to glimpse what is now a never-ending ocean rippling below the train, an electrical storm brewing on the horizon. “-where are we? Where are we going?”

“Everywhere. Nowhere. It’s hard to say, really.” They smile at you, something unreadable in their eyes. “I suppose a better answer would be anywhere. It’s up to you.”

“Me?”

Their smile turns sharp. “It really is your first time, isn’t it?”

The waves outside splutter in response. They go on and on and on and on, with no signs of stopping.

You can make out the thin glistening of water pouring softly down the cavern wall from the lights on the outside of the train.

“What’s it like, where you’re from?” the child asks.

“Pretty,” you say noncommittally. “Elegant, in its own way. Normal.”

They hum and swing their legs, gripping the edge of the seat. “And?”

You watch the walls of the cavern narrow in on the train, and a spark of nervousness flares inside you when you think of the train getting stuck. “Trapped. It was a nice place to grow up, but there wasn’t anywhere to go except where everyone told you to go. Sometimes, those places weren’t very special. Not to me, at least.”

“You have anywhere here.”

“I guess so,” you sigh. “The ride has to end eventually, though. I didn’t really think this through, so I have no idea what I’m going to do when we get to the last stop.”

“There’s only one stop,” the child says casually, “but think about what you want to do when you get there. It’ll be a whole new world for you, if you believe in it.”

Watching the tunnel widen again into a room full of gorgeous glowing crystals towering high above you, you think you’re starting to understand.

A lone streetlight stands outside, its harsh yellow light flickering on the ground. Silhouettes of people pass underneath like shadows, fading away into mist at the edges.

“They look like they’re searching for something. What are their lives like, I wonder?”

You square your shoulders bitterly. “They spend decades locked in a miserable cycle of work and expectations and exhaustion, with no real joy or expression left.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what society demands. That’s what people demand.”

The child surveys you curiously. “So they’re looking for emotion? All of them?”

All of them. The confirmation is on the tip of your tongue.

You remember the people outside the desert store. “Maybe not all of them,” you amend. “Some of them had higher dice rolls.”

“They all fade away in the end,” the child observes.

“But they’re brighter.” Happier.

“The dice alone don’t change that,” they remind you.

The streetlight dies.

“Can you rig the dice?”

“No,” the child replies. “But low numbers aren’t always a bad thing. If you add them right, you get a bigger number.”

The chunks of ice speeding past the window start moving backwards.

“Do you wanna play a game?”

You decide to humor the kid, for lack of anything better to do. “Sure. What game?”

“You stomp your feet like this.” They stretch their legs to the floor and pound a steady rhythm on the ground. “When I make this sound” - a series of clicks you can’t for the life of you figure out how to do with your mouth - “you knock against the window.” Another beat, their knuckles rapping gently against the glass. “And I’m gonna do my own sounds, and we’re gonna make a song. But you can’t step in the same place twice, or it’ll get boring.”

It takes you a while to get the hang of it. Before long, you are up and out of your seat, hopping across the car in an effort to avoid landing on the same spot you just stepped. The kid is singing a melody that shoots adrenaline through your veins, lights a giddy fire in your chest, and opens a haunting void in your throat all at the same time. You feel more alive than you have ever been in your entire life.

Here, dancing in the soft white light of the train, with a forest whispering outside and brushing the windows with gentle branches, believing in this seems easier than ever.

The child isn’t there when the sun’s rays spill over the horizon, tingeing the sky a pale pink. The country hills rise around the train again, tiny farms dotting the green. Roused from your deeper slumber, you lazily watch the early morning mist climb over the grass. Distantly, a mass of grey clouds hangs in the sky. If you think about it hard enough, they look like looming mountains. An impossible, majestic journey.

“We’re almost at the stop, dear.” The woman is back, speaking quietly. “I’ll take your ticket stub off your hands for you.”

You pull it out and give it to her. “You were right. The view was incredible.”

Her face softens. “It always is.”

The train finally pulls into the station with another screech. The doors slide open with a hiss, and you step back out onto the platform, breathing in the morning air. You take a moment to turn to the man hanging out the side window.

“Hope to see you again sometime,” he bids you, kind eyes now crinkled in a smile. “Next time, I’ll say ‘Second time?’”

“I look forward to it,” you agree with a small huff of laughter.

The ticketmaster gives you a weird look as you leave the station. “Were you in there all night?” he asks, perplexed. “Did your train even come by? There’s none on the schedule.”

You shrug. “No, it did. It was a round trip.”

You climb the stairs to the ground level and step outside. As you head home, you try to hold on to the feelings you found on the train. Looking for emotion, indeed.

Even when you don’t have an anywhere to go, at least you know there’s always another option. You’ll do what you do best: you don’t stop believing.

What do you think @writing-prompt-s?

[aria-i-adagio]

Mudlark

aka. Chapter 46 of Where the Elfroot Grows (read on AO3)

---

Rhys Trevelyan - Fucking Herald of Andraste and newly appointed Lord Fucking Inquisitor - kneels on the warm ground of Skyhold’s garden, ripping out weeds with his bare hands, getting dirt all over his trousers, and trying his best to enjoy the autumn sun in peace. The walls of the garden are working as they should, collecting and trapping the heat of the day, even as the shadows cast by the trees begin to grow long. It’s brilliant engineering, even more brilliant than he thought at first. Even at lower elevations, the season for pears and applies should have passed, but the trees here are still producing. He suspects some sort of enchantment built into the walls to amplify the natural effects of the design, but he hasn’t been able to clear enough growth to uncover all the stonework. He’d have finished days ago. Except for Leliana and Cassandra interrupting his plans to declare him Inquisitor.

He’s as close to alone as he’s likely to manage anytime soon. Mother Giselle wandered into the chapel a half hour or so ago either to pray or to work on cleaning and repairing the ancient statue. She’d probably tell him that work and prayer are much the same if one has the right attitude of devotion to Andraste’s teachings and the Maker’s will. He heard the sound of other feet in the gallery a bit after Mother Giselle passed followed by the scraping of a chair being pulled into a desirable spot. Someone might be there still, but whoever it is, they aren’t bothering him, just trying to get a break of their own from the general cacophony of a hundred or so people trying to make Skyhold fully habitable.

It shouldn’t bother him so; it wasn’t as though he’d ever had space to himself in the Circle, but there’s something very different about being in charge of more than seedlings. And Inquisitor feels so much more permanent, so much heavier, than Herald.

Josie kidnapped him promptly after breakfast and trapped him in meetings all day. First with Leliana about the couriers she would be sending: to the Inquisition camps around Redcliffe, to the Chantry, to the College of Enchanters, to Queen Anora in Denerim, to Orzammar, maybe to the Queen of Antiva. Rhys had honestly lost count at a certain point, even though he did his best to read the ones she wanted him to sign. They were all variations on the same theme - an announcement that the Inquisition had survived the destruction of Haven, a reminder that they were responsible for closing the Breach, and requests for supports to oppose Corypheus.

Then, Rutherford and Cassandra wanted to discuss the soldier’s progress repairing an old road that ran through a pass between Ferelden and Orlais, just under the peak on which Skyhold sits. Rutherford says the road is in shockingly good condition and mostly only needs a bit of clearing a few holes filled to be usable by caravans. At the moment, the engineers can’t explain why it was abandoned, as once opened the route will save a significant amount of time transporting products between Orlais and the Lake Calenhad region. Further, they’d discovered auxiliary forts will secure Skyhold's control of what will be a valuable trade route. There’s some discussion of collecting tolls as a source of income for the Inquisition, but it all seems very abstract to him.

The only part of the report that Rhys is internally motivated to be interested in is the repair work on an ingenious winch and cable system that would allow people and goods to be moved up and down the mountain in a matter of hours, versus days. Like the road, it is in remarkable condition - a little grease and a few solders to the heavy cables made it functional again. They’re already able to use it to send messages and lightweight supplies up and down the mountain. (And one adventurous member of Bull’s Chargers. Rhys is slightly envious.) To operate it with any significant amounts of weight, they'll need some strong draft animals to turn the winches at the base and the summit, but Rhys is told that the contact he had made with the farmers around Redcliffe and a few generous handfuls of gold should be able to make that happen.

Rhys had just thought assisting the farmers to secure watchtowers so that they could better defend themselves seemed like the right thing to do as he had no solution to the conflict in the area. Even without Templars and Maleficarii, there were still bears to worry about. Rhys has developed a strong dislike of bears. But they do all the allies they can manage. And Rhys wouldn’t say no to a bear fur or ten or a hundred. Skyhold is magnificent, but with the exception of the garden suntrap, the temperatures are rapidly dropping below anything he’s ever experienced.

An hour after lunch, when he thought the four of them were finished with him, Harritt showed up talking about the tunnels underneath the keep that he’d been exploring with a small team. They go deep, far deeper than Harritt is comfortable taking the men without reinforcements, but he just feels that they reach the Deep Roads. Skyhold is close to Orzammar after all. No signs of Darkspawn, thank Andraste! But they do need to be mindful of the possibility of an attack from below. (It balances the threat of an attacking dragon from above, Rhys supposes. Good to keep your equations balanced.) Cassandra suggested that Harritt take Blackwall along with a few soldiers to explore further, and around yawns, Rhys agreed with her. If the road between Ferelden and Orlais is somehow valuable, why not a road to Orzammar? Or Minrathous? All the roads!

Rhys continues ripping out vines and mentally curses all four of them for promoting him from Herald to Inquisitor. (Although, he’s fairly sure that Rutherford isn’t entirely happy about having a mage in charge for the longue durée.) Morning glories - another plant that would generally need a warmer clime to survive, even as stubborn as it is. Pretty flowers, but they take over everything. He’ll transplant some to a bed near an arbor he discovered two days ago when he swung a machete at a stand of ragweed and hit a metal post. The morning glories will be a desirable replacement - Josie will like the decorative element - if he can keep them contained.

Why couldn’t Andraste just need a gardener?

That question, of course, assumed that Andraste is in fact, the Bride of the Maker and thus, endowed with the power to toss Rhys back out of the Fade (however he ended up there in the first place), which, in turn, assumes the existence of the Maker and not just an empty throne in the middle of a Golden City. And as far as Rhys has ever been able to tell, the Maker’s existence can be neither proven nor disproven, and the people debating it - quietly, of course - were both wasting their breath and risking their necks.

A better question might be, why in the Void did he let Cassie talk him into agreeing to lead the Inquisition? It was a bit unfair of her and Leliana to ambush him with the question in public. And Josie and Rutherford’s little display of rallying acclamation from the survivors of Haven strongly suggested that the decision had already been made before Cassandra and Leliana asked him.

From the Fade and into the fire. Just my luck.

Rhys is too distracted by humoring his own grumbling to notice the loose, mounded soil hiding under the vines until his right hand is buried well past his wrist and stinging sharply from hundreds of tiny mandibles pinching the flesh and sinking venom under the surface of his skin.

Rhys springs up and back with a yelp, flinging his arm to the side in an attempt to shake the ants free, then immediately back in front of him to cast a cage of lightning around the anthill, hoping that it circles deep enough underground to cut off the entire colony before any more of the ants can swarm out to attack him.

“Andraste’s flaming weasel -” Some of the ants have already gotten under his sleeve, and it doesn’t take many of this species to produce abject misery. He swats futilely at his arm, then gives up and tears off his jacket. “Knickerbocker tits!”

“Rhys, has some demon of dance possessed you?”

“Ants.” Rhys tosses the jacket aside and tries to crush the insects between the fabric of his sleeve and his arm for a second before ripping the buttons on his shirt open and stripping it off as well. A couple of the damned terrors have made it to his neck and chest. “Blighted fire ants.” Ugh. That’s a horrible notion - fire ants infected with the Blight. The Maker really will have abandoned us.

“So dramatic. Here -” Dorian attempts to brush a few of the blighters off before Rhys can stop him. “Fasta vass! That thing bit me.”

“Yes.” Rhys flicks one off his neck and sweeps his left hand over his right arm. Be damned nice if this Anchor were effective against fire ants. “Get me a bucket of water, will you?”

The static cage spell will wear off shortly, releasing any of the ants that hadn’t been shocked to death already. And those ants will be an infuriated horde with murder on their hive mind. Rhys ignores the stinging long enough to cast as controlled and intense of a fire spell as he can manage over the mound and watches with satisfaction as it erupts through the weeds and rolls over the anthill in a destructive wave. Invasive little fuckers. Kill them. Kill them with fire.

Rhys grabs the full bucket from Dorian and splashes the water over his right side, knocking most of the remaining ants loose and hopping away from that bit of ground before they can recover and decide to crawl up his leg.

“The hell are those things?”

“Fire ants.” Rhys glares at the scorched earth, watching for movements that might single a second assault. Dorian really must have spent the majority of his time in cities and libraries if he didn’t know about fire ants. The things are native to Tevinter and had been slowly invading the south for decades. He goes back to the well in the center of the garden and draws another bucket of water to dump over his head. “Also known as the most vicious little blighters known to Thedas.”

“Certainly they can’t be that bad. They’re just insects.”

“I fell into a mound once when I was still an apprentice... I’ll take a small horde of Darkspawn over these things.” Rhys rubs his hands over his neck and face. He doesn’t think he’s allergic; the bites should just be an irritant - just one more irritant for an irritating day - but people do develop allergies to insect bites following initial exposure. He can’t feel any swelling around his throat, but there is an itch along his jaw. He swats at his cheek - unsure if there’s an ant, or if he’s just imagining it - and inadvertently smears water and dirt together into mud.

“Ah, thus the warpaint.” Dorian smirks at him.

Rhys touches his face. The tacky mud over his cheek and nose sticks to his fingertips. Fortunately, it seems like Dorian is the only other person about to bear witness. Rhys laughs. Ah yes, he should definitely be in charge of a quasi-religious movement with a military. “Yes. The warpaint.” He slaps his thigh as he feels another series of stingings pricks. Excellent. One or two had made it to his legs, but at least it’s not a swarm. “And the two or three more fireballs I’m about to hit that mound with.”

“Such a vengeful little mudlark. Ready to defend his territory. Want help?”

“Oh yes. Fire. Kill them with fire.” Rhys casts another fire spell over the mound as the first burns out, silently apologizing to any innocent soil dwellers caught in it... But... Fire ants.

“Then quick healing spell, a bath, and clean clothes, I suppose?”

“Volunteering to help with that too?”

“I could be.” Dorian paces a tight circle around Rhys and flicks one of the insects off his back with a single manicured nail. “You seem rather distraught to be left alone.” A wave of magic - Dorian’s spells always feel warm - flows over him, easing the stinging, although the sensation - real or imagined or a combination - of insect feet has Rhys ready to crawl out of his skin - along with the rest of his clothes.

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra shouts down from a window in the tower she’s claimed for herself. “What are you doing? Why are there flames?”

“Fire ants!” Rhys yells back. That should be self-explanatory. He thinks the known range of the damned bugs includes Nevarra, but then Cassandra hasn’t spent that much time in Nevarra, and probably not that much time stomping through weeds anywhere. Andraste! Fire ants under armor. He shivers at the thought.

“What?” Cassandra sounds confused.

“Don’t worry about it, Seeker. The Herald and I have everything under control.”

Rhys can imagine her grumpy huff even if he can’t hear it over the sound of the shutters of the window slamming shut.

Dorian’s eyebrows arch high with amusement. “Be careful, Rhys, or there’ll be a rumor started that you’ve gone quite mad.”

“If I get many more bites -” He smacks a different spot on his thigh. “I just might.”

“Well then, we’d better go make sure you get them all drowned then. Is it safe to touch your shirt?”

“Leave it. Damn things will get confused now that their colony is gone and wander off in a bit.” He can retrieve the shirt and jacket to be cleaned later - once the ants are well gone. The morning glory vines around the ant mound are too green for the fire to spread easily, but Rhys throws another bucket of water over them to be safe. Josie would probably tell him it’s bad form to burn down one’s new base of operations. And then yet another bucket over his head.

If Varric has questions when Rhys, shirtless and still dripping water stalks past the table he’s writing at with an amused Dorian following behind, he keeps them to himself.

“Why so grumpy today?” Dorian asks. He’d volunteered to go find some dry, ant-free clothes for Rhys, and after returning to the kitchen storeroom - the most rational place to locate a tub for bathing until further repairs are made - had remained, leaning against the closed door and toying with the rings he wears, switching them from finger to finger. “You're normally as chipper as a little bird.”

“A mudlark?”

“Does that bother you? I won't call you that if it does.”

“No, no. I kind of like it.” Rhys scrubs a bit of soapy flannel between his toes - just in case an ant had found its way there. At least Josie won’t be able to complain about dirt under his fingernails for a few hours. “Much better than Herald.”

“Or Inquisitor?”

“Definitely better than Inquisitor.” Rhys slides down in the tub, dunking his head under the water again. His next oldest brother and little sister calling him snaggletooth when he was eight would be better than Inquisitor. Besides, he likes the way that Dorian says ‘mudlark’ when talking to him. Rhys resurfaces and pushes wet hair out of his face. “I really don't want to be called Inquisitor. And yet, here I am.”

“You know, the fact that you don't want to be Inquisitor might be precisely the reason why you should be.”

“I spent all morning trying to keep up with discussions on topics that I know nothing about. Politics, economics - roads! I’m not the right person for this.”

“You’ll learn. Quickly, I’m sure.”

“You’re more confident than I am.” Rhys flicks idly at the surface of the water. “But for what it’s worth, thanks.”

“Rhys, the kind of person who would be prepared for something like this is also the kind of person who is likely to abuse any power they are given. And you will have power once the rest of Thedas realizes the threat Corypheus poses. Wouldn’t you rather be the leader and not just the tool?”

Rhys lifts his left hand from the water and studies the Anchor carefully. Yes, a tool. An instrument that controls the Veil in terrifying ways that he doesn’t understand. Something that he’s not supposed to have and that an ancient monster desperately wants. The faint green glow is more apparent in the dim light of this basement room than it was in the sunlight of the garden - one more reason to cherish the place. “It feels so foreign. Wrong. Like some disease that should be pruned away.” He touches the first three fingers of his right hand to his palm and draws them slowly down to the fold of his elbow, following the path that the magic flows along before Solas pushes it back again.

Dorian’s brow creases and moves fluidly, kneeling on one knee beside the tub and catching Rhys’s hand in his. “You’ve managed well this far.” He weaves their fingers together, and almost - almost - touches his lips to Rhys’s knuckles. “You can always come rant to me, you know. If any given day is too much.”

Rhys remains still for the space of one, two, three heartbeats, then he runs his thumb over Dorian’s fingers, soft skin, metal rings warm with heat from his body.

Dorian’s eyes drop. His cheeks might be colored a touch, but Rhys can’t quite be sure in the dim light. He rises to his feet and turns away in a single elegant motion. “You should take a break. Soak for a while. Relax a bit.” He pushes the door open, just a crack, hesitating for the barest second. “I guess I’ll -”

“Dorian?”

His back straightens as he turns back around. “Yes.”

“Keep calling me mudlark.”

Dorian glances down, breaking eye contact between them, but the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “You know where to find me, Mudlark, trying to salvage books. I could try to do something about the mess you’ve made of your hands playing in the dirt again.”

[vidalinav]

Love is Bright Red, Hope is Dark Blue SNEAK PEAK

So, it seems that sneak peaks keep me accountable, because every time I posted one I finished the fic, and if that’s not some voodoo magic I don’t know what is. 

However, this hopefully will be the last fic I post before ACOSF. I’m aware that many of you will probably be logged off by the time I post, but honestly who even remembers this fic series. I’m perfectly okay with shouting to the void. I’m going to abandon every fic I said I was going to write and keep them on the back burner. This will be the first completed work I’ve ever had and I’m determined and... also very bored! (insert little emoji with the fists up) 

So, I’m going in. 

Nesta’s Love is Quiet/Cassian’s Love is Warm Masterlist

~

The picture of Nesta hangs on the living room wall. She moves and its eyes follow. She blinks and it awakens. The other her stares. Her expression a collage of painted lashes, crimson dusted skin, a rose that is cradled in her hands. This Nesta, praying to some unknown deity who never answers.  

She looks innocent. Far too innocent for the amount of horrors she’s seen... and she’s alone.

A singularity. An outlier.

The image lies off center in the middle of the wall, yet the other pictures crawl up the space like tangling vines suffocating the life out of her. Life is not painted in her eyebrows, or the color of her hair, or the red of her lips, or her pale neck. Rather, it is what is around her. The pictures that are filled with laughter and smiles and heart-wrenching happiness.

They must have taken it from her, she thinks. Poor girl.

But Nesta shakes her head. No, she never had it. It was always the others who laughed, who yelled, who joked those jokes of theirs. She might have been placed here, forced to fit, squeezed into the place they could find room for, but at the end of the day, she is merely a pretty painting tacked in Feyre’s living room wall. Beautiful… but not alive. Cold, and alone, and red with the stain of blood.

Is this what Feyre sees when Nesta skidders through her memories? If it is, she is even more certain of their foolish want to love her.

“I painted it the day you left. I think it came out beautifully, don’t you think?”

I think I look dead inside; she wants to say, turning to Feyre who leans against a table, all starry skies and none of the bleak, burning black holes.

Dead.

Dead and buried.

Feyre grimaces, taking a breath as if she’ll recite poetry in the hall. What other words will spew from the depths of her throat and croak out in sounds and syllables?

Are words even enough to describe memories turned to dust and rose-colored wounds freshly healed?

The fiery anger blooms out of Nesta’s lungs. Its laid dormant for far too long, all those winter days in the mountains trapped under frost. But, Nesta can’t respond, doesn’t know what she’d say to her little sister who means so much to her, but at the same time makes her heart ache as if it bleeds from where’s she’s stabbed her in the chest.

Nesta opens her mouth to speak...

Elain strolls in.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” She grins, grasping her forearm, pulling Nesta towards the dining room in glee. “I thought I’d show you what I made to celebrate.”

Nesta shudders at the thought, at the feeling of her sisters at her side and behind her. Huddling around her as if they mean to keep her close. Nesta thinks it feels like a prison. “Celebrate what?”

Elain looks at her oddly, “You being back—and Cassian, of course… Your health.” She adds, her brows furrowing in concern. Nesta doesn’t know what that look means.

Tell me, she wants to scream.

Elain swallows, the dandelion charm at her throat bobbing. “When Cassian carried you in, you looked so… small. Feyre and I were worried that you’d—”

“We had complete faith that you’d be safe and well again,” Feyre smiles, the mirth never reaching her eyes.

An odd phrase, Nesta thinks, for she’s never been safe or well.

Nesta squints to the table and Elain perhaps noticing the shift, moves quickly to the image of steaming casserole and piping hot buns. Dessert already sits in each corner and she wonders who exactly they’re all feeding if this is the amount of food they waste.

“The roast is still in the oven.” Her favorite.

“You’re favorite,” Elain mumbles softly—shyly, “I thought since we missed your birthday, we could celebrate now.”

That word again.

Celebrate…

Don’t they know that she rejoices in being away from them? That she finds solace in the quiet day by day. There is no obligation of sterile complacency, of beauty she can never live up to. She doesn’t need to be a good sister, a caring sister, a sister who reaches both hands out in compassion. In Windhaven, beyond Velaris, she is just Nesta. She is no one.

Nesta resists rolling her eyes or saying something snarky just because she can, just because she knows it’ll hurt. Instead, she touches the plate on the table, a fine porcelain made of blue glass. It reminds her of the chandelier she has at home, blinking and twisting like an unhindered star.

She doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday.

Feyre pulls out a chair, the noise screeching against the floor and Nesta can’t stop the harsh look she sends her way.

If they missed it, she did too.

But at her cold demeaner, Elain is quick to lure her to a seat, proclaiming that Nesta will sit beside her all evening. Perhaps, they’ll exchange stories. I want to hear everything, she pleads. Will Nesta tell her the weather then? The bitter frosts, the buried cemeteries, the avalanches that never came crashing down like she wanted. It was all too perfect, all too according to plan.

Nesta will not let them have the satisfaction.

Elain smiles crookedly, some noise that sounds both like a laugh and a cry barreling out of her lips.

Nesta half-wonders what about her now seems fragile to her little sister when she had treaded precariously past death and disinterest and yet nothing could persuade them a year ago that she wasn’t well enough— okay enough.

Nesta only looks to the stairs. The sound of rustling feet stampeding above. She can feel him even now, wants to call for him even if she abhors the thought.

Her sisters are… different when Cassian is around. More watchful, more cautious. Not as eager to touch her or to offer an array of activities that don’t at all sound pleasing to her ears. He is her guard somehow, even though he offers nothing but laughs and soft, easy smiles.

But he ambles down the stairs as if she calls him. Perhaps she does, in that hollow part of her body she still doesn’t understand. The part that whispers his name, echoes his feelings, reminds her that she is not alone.  

“Sit,” She urges lowly, moving the utensils that Elain sets down to another place setting. Cassian raises a brow but sits beside her.

His hand rests on the table and Nesta wants to know what it would seem like to these… people—her family if she placed her palm in his so openly. She clenches her fist to stop the reaching, turning her gaze away from his golden skin.

“Oh,” Elain says, noting the seat beside her taken.  

To be continued….

~

Tagged and those who will be tagged from Cassian’s Love is Warm and those who said they wanted to be tagged on everything: (let me know if this changes)

@dreaming-of-bohemian-nights , @missing-merlin, @strangeenemy, @saltydreamcollector, @midnightbluhm, @my-fan-side, @queenofillea1, @tswaney17, @gloriousinlove, @ekaterinakostrova, @thebluemartini, @anishake, @lord-douglas-the-third, @soitsgorgeous, @lolasjournal @duskandstarlight, @arinbelle, @nestaarcher0n, @allilal @mis-lil-red

~

I hate confrontation like my life depends on it, but I don’t know how to start the healing process for the sisters without some, so maybe you’ll get an outburst or two from Nesta and maybe Cassian. But ultimately it’s going to end not like the healing is complete, but rather that the healing is able to take place, ripping off band aids here. It’s going to be long and emotional. 

I read the previous chapters and omg I get so mad when I read it. It’s like physically impossible to read Nesta’s voice without being stark, ugly mad, but it is easier to write that way. Also, Feyre is about to be annoying in this but it has to happen to come full circle. But at least Cassian and Nesta will be uber cute and established! I have a day out in Velaris date for them.

If y’all have followed this story and have some burning desire to see something, let me know! It will be the last chance to do so. Because again, I’m determined to finish and I’ll NEVER write for this fic again. NEVER. But I will not write smut (unfortunately I suck at that and I try to avoid anything I suck at)

Actually let me set a date: it’s going to be posted on Wednesday by 11:59pm central time. Yell at me if it’s not lol. This will be my reaching 1000 followers gift.