#also can we discuss that Hen’s plan was to GO ALONE???)

[bucksboobs]

Both the major same sex couples in Chimney’s life right now met through him… the Actual Greatest Ally in the 118, possibly the world.

[grimace-writes]

New Kid in Town *.•.*• No. 2

GN!Reader x Task Force 141 (feat. Alejandro + Roldolfo)

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

Summary: The Reader must show the team what they are made of during a sparing session with Ghost.

Word count: 1449

(3rd Person POV | They/Them so anyone can read :) | Early to Mid Twenties) [Unfortunately contains Google translated Spanish...I apologize (˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) Also the Reader is written to be a badass, they deserve it]

[Enjoy! (๑ º ᗜ <; ๑) ノ♡ ]

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Their 141 and MSF friends were really like their own little found family, who functioned mostly by themselves in their own little corner of the base. There were plenty of other teams that shared the other factions of the base, though it seemed rare to see them as Price and the gang were higher on the food chain. The captain made sure they all participated in training with the recruits or other teams for missions, along with helping the other teams on certain larger missions. Seeing as {Y/N} was still fresh meat themselves, they were exempted from participating in group training until the next week. Price wanted to gauge their skill first hand before releasing them to the populous.

“Thanks for the meal, guys..It was good. I hope whatever I make will be up to par like this..” {Y/N} said standing from their place at the table to grab all the empty dishes.

“I’m sure it’s going to be just fine and you are very welcome.” Rudy says, handing his plate to them with a smile before grabbing the leftovers to pack up.

“Sí, estaba delicioso. Gracias, mi amigos.” (*Yes, it was delicious. Thank you, my friends.*) Alejandro joined in collecting the dishes to help with cleaning.

Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost stayed seated as the three went to the kitchen with the mess from the table. {Y/N} rinsed and scrubbed the plates as Ale wiped and put them away, he made sure to explain where each item went. Ghost and Price seemed to be talking about work things as Price’s eyebrows furrowed when {Y/N} glanced at him as they put dishes away. {Y/N} met the Captain's gaze which softened the older man’s expression, “Mind coming over here a sec, {C/N}?”

{Y/N} nodded, excusing themself from their task wiping their hands dry before making their way over to the two superior officers. “Yes?”

“With the day still young, Ol’ Ghost here suggests we start your training early. This will give us the opportunity to get a head start on your training regime, if you are up to it that is. It’d be understandable if you need a full day to get settled, though we’d have to start tomorrow at the latest.” Price paused to finish the remnants of coffee in a mug that read ‘World’s Greatest Boss’ in comical lettering as he let {Y/N} mull over the options. It didn’t take long for their answer, they were eager to get started mixed with the anxiety they felt earlier fed their decision.

“Good choice, hen. You two can discuss the details more at the training halls, for now best go back to your previous task.” Price them a smile, cheekily sliding his empty mug towards {Y/N} causing them to snort as they took the glass.

˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

{Y/N} sighed, wiping the dampness from their hands on the front of their pants. They went to the restroom before they went to the session, which separated them Soap and Ghost who were walking with them to the training halls. With a quickened pace they made their way through the halls to their destination, Ghost stood alone by the sparring mats in a room filled with various types of gym equipment.

“Thanks for your patience, sir.” They said jogging over to him, “Where did the sergeant go?”

A pair of silent footsteps made their way to the pair, making a direct beeline towards {Y/N}, who had their back to their attacker. The person held out a ‘knife’ going to sneak attack them, though their plan was foiled by {Y/N} slamming their heel into his foot. With swift action they rounded a kick backwards, hitting the person in the stomach sending him to the floor. They held their fists up to shield themselves from anymore onslaught, a deep grimace in their face as they looked to their attacker.

Soap laid on his side groaning, one hand on his stomach, the other holding his foot. Ghost looked dumbfounded as Soap began to laugh, “That's pure class! How did ya dae that?"

"I took self-defense classes during intermediate (middle) school, then Karate and gymnastics as my electives all throughout secondary (high) school," {Y/N} picked up the discarded rubber knife pointing towards Soap and straightened their posture. They earned themselves confused looks (well eyes in Ghost’s case), which made them feel a little self conscious. “What can I say? I was a military brat, raised by two overprotective commanders who wanted to make sure no one could ever hurt me.”

‘Plus my mentor made sure I could survive any circumstance during the summers, but that’s a story for another day.’ They thought to themselves with a shiver of the memories of those days.

“You’re need for private sessions makes more sense, now” The poor beaten up Scottish man said, he was hoisted up by Ghost. Soap groaned when he put pressure on his foot but was fine otherwise (his pride was more damaged than anything). “You really are something else, best to rein in those feral tendencies, huh? Though one of these days, you mind showing me how ya dae that?” Mactavish walked over to {Y/N} to give them a friendly victory shake, which they gladly took with a smile.

“Maybe, suds.” They said jokingly back.

{Y/N}’s actions made the silent lieutenant more intrigued by them, their skills and techniques seems to match the intel in their file. He felt like he was going to have to take their match more seriously now, it broke his cold persona making him chuckle. “{C/N}. You may have been able to defeat an opponent sneaking up on you..” Ghost crossed his arms leaning back into his full height, tilting his head to the side to stare down at them. “..Let’s find out how good you are against an opponent head on.”

{Y/N} placed their hands on their hips, matching the lieutenant’s gaze before making their way onto the actual training mate. They held the rubber knife to Ghost as he walked over, he shook his head in response.

“Nope, you are going to be the attacker for this exercise.”

{Y/N} gave him a confused look for a second, the plan they quickly came up with went out the window. Having the new prompt they quickly formulated a new plan, with Soap it was easier to find his weak spot and exploit them (plus natural instinct for self preservation). Ghost’s masked expressions mixed with the overall difficulty to read his body language, made this a harder challenge.

‘Attacking the lieutenant, this is a life or death moment..Fight like you are gonna die..’ {Y/N} thought as they moved into an offensive position, Ghost grunted in satisfaction as he matched them in defense.

‘My only chance will be to catch him off guard, he’s probably expecting me to run up and attack..Perfect.’ They stepped forward letting their guard down, making their way to the very confused lieutenant. Ghost held his guard as they twirled the knife in their hand quickening their pace. Once they were at arms length the lieutenant went to swing at them, not taking any chances for them to gain any more ground towards him. {Y/N}’s slid their foot back into a slight fencing lunge, narrowly avoiding Ghost’s fist from colliding with their face, they harshly clapped their hands upwards towards Ghost’s face. This abnormal technique caused Ghost to blink briefly, giving them the tiniest advantage they were gambling for.

{Y/N} grabbed his extended arm, which made Ghost tense and held himself grounded, allowing them to swing through the small space between his legs. They let him go as they slid quickly twisting their body, pouncing up to hop on his back and wrapped their legs around his waist. Ghost grunted as Y/N held the knife against his throat, their other arm wrapped under his arm as they rested their head on his shoulder. “I think I handled myself pretty well, Lieutenant. I win..”

A loud whistle followed by group clapping ran through the empty space, Price and Gaz snuck in to join Soap to watch the match. {Y/N} released Ghost as they gently got off him, feeling awkward with the peanut gallery seeing them clinging to the lieutenant. They cleared their throat taking a step away from Ghost, an expression explaining how they felt clear on their face.

“You did good..” Ghost’s voice cut through praise of the others, he wasn’t the type to easily give out compliments. {Y/N}’s chest filled with pride, “Thank you, sir.”

To be continued..

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Author's Note: If you recognize the technique that inspired the Reader’s, you get 5 gold stars ⭐. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story. Let me know what you thought of it, Love Love~ (o´ ω `o)💕💕

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

[lynnlovesthestars]

"I wandered lonely as a cloud"

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader (afab for eventual smut) Genre: hurt, comfort. Angst, smut eventually. CW: gore, past trauma, abuse, reference to SA, ptsd, ocd, feeling of inadequacy, fear of rejection, fear of loneliness, anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts[...] Setting: Act 2. Synopsys: "let's pretend we are not alone"

AN: Hello my stars, I haven't wrote a fanfic in a while, though this is a mix between a fic and a collection of one shots. The story is introspective, as we dwell in the story, our focus will be on two lonely souls that find solace in each other's touch. It will not be an action driven story, but fear not, It wont just be cuddles and kisses! (Though we'll have plenty of that) Anyways i hope you'll enjoy this, and you'll find comfort in it.

I'm also going to open a tag list, in case someone is interested. (if the taglist flops, you didn't see it) I'll link the form here so you can avoid leaving it in the comments if you prefer!

Form.

Playlist.

Masterpost.

Loneliness was a strange feeling, sometimes it sprouted when you least expected it, but it hit you the worst at night. It was a feeling you grew accustomed over time, it coated your days, your food, your eyes. In a way it became your way of knowing you were alive, that deep down that emptiness you felt, something akin to a heart was beating, though lonely.

Everyone could see when loneliness was hitting you the worst, cause in the morning you would be more tired, eyebags would sulk your face and you would be avoidant.

The Last Light Inn was finally in sight as you descended the dark and shadowy path that the group of harpers pointed to. The bright glow of encircling the area was the only sign that could point at your way.

Despite the rough welcome from Jaheira and the harpers, they offered you a few rooms so you could rest while you planned your next moves. Jaheira took it on herself to give you a briefing on all she gathered in the shadowlands, but she could clearly see the dark circles under your eyes, and she knew them very well. The eyebags of a leader that needed rest and a warm soup. Little did she know that whatever you felt inside, it was much more than that. It was the thug you felt in your chest, the yearning for even the smallest touch. The need of closeness, like a body pressed against your skin as you dozed asleep. It was the daydreaming of respite in someone else’s embrace, safe and tucked away, though in that moment you wanted to concentrate more on the situation at hand: looking for the beds, cause for once in the past weeks, you didn’t need to set up camp or gather wood, or even sleep on the floor.

The group was directed towards the hen, where the strange ox from the emerald grove was moo-ing about its food. Jaheira gave you a key that would open a hatch where extra rooms would be tucked away. As you descended down the staircase, a soft light glimmered at the center of the space, where four doors were scattered around the empty communal area. A small kitchen sat on the side, while a fireplace was opposite to it. 

Whoever resided here before the darkness hit this place, was probably the owner of the inn and their family. The space was left clean, the harpers kept it in good conditions as they took over the perimeter of the inn.

You dropped your backpack near a door as you took a glimpse of the rooms: all of them had a poster bed that could easily hold two people and a partition to hide a bathing corner.

You opted to divide the rooms with the support of a coin flip. It was nothing against Lae'zel, but when the coin fell and it assigned you to her, you contemplated if you could have set a tent in the middle of the road. Your brain started churning ideas as the rest of the group was knees deep discussing on the beds.

"Oh don't sulk, Astarion" Gale played with the elf as he shoved his elbow in his hip. "I'm not an awful bedmate" 

"There's no way, I'm sleeping in the same room with you again" Astarion whined as he turned his head the other way. Then it hit you. 

Astarion.

Lae, do you mind sharing a room with Gale?" You asked, lowering your tone.

"Tck, are you trying to bed me and Gale?" She shot you a cold glance as you feing ignorance. 

She could think whatever if it meant you wouldn't hear her complaining every night. If you had to share a room with someone, you were oddly more comfortable with the idea of sharing your space with Astarion, and maybe it was for the fact that you were already closer. Feeding him every night meant learning how to share a small space and a closeness you were not willing to share with much people. Then in those nights you couldn’t rest, you’d sit together in front of the fire as you opened up to each other. It was a slow process for both of you, a little at a time you’d feed each other with bits of your hearts. You even mentioned a few times about that loneliness that was always devouring you, though you made sure to sugarcoat it a little, and he was very understanding of the bits you gave him.

You felt that you'd be more at ease with someone that understood loneliness the way you did, someone that wouldn't cross the boundaries unless you allowed him, cause if there was something you liked about him, it was the work he was doing on himself, relearning behaviors he couldn't claim before. Like the meaning of the word 'no', and how to trust, though he still pretended he didn't like anyone.

It was a shield he would put on, so that he couldn't get hurt or worse, rejected. He shared it with you in another sleepless night.

Though elves didn't need to sleep, during meditation something very akin to dreams was happening: your mind would focus on events of the past, over and over again, and you weren’t fond of your past crawling out again unwanted. Nevertheless, you both enjoyed sleep, there was something about those hours of nothingness that it made you breathe. 

Your attention was quickly drawn back to the room when Astarion and Gale were still bantering when Lae'zel lost her temper. "I'm done with you" She pulled out her knife menacingly, a good way to keep Gale in check when he would cling.

She pointed the knife towards Astarion first. "Tck, you take your stuff to Tav" She ordered, everyone's eyes were wide as they witnessed how she put them in check. Then she pointed the blade towards Gale, not a second of hesitation in her voice. "You sleep with me. You take the bed, I take the floor." She didn't wait for anyone's opinion, she picked up her belongings and disappeared behind a door.

You could still hear her complaining through the closed door. "Tchk, I don't like beds anyways, they are too soft"

Deep down you appreciated what she did, she understood more than what she gave away, and you would have to thank her one of those nights.

Everyone looked at each other speechless, before taking their turn to leave. It was an odd silence, a rare occurrence in your not so little marry-band. 

The room was definitely better than what you could see from a glimpse. It wasn't big, but the bed was big enough to fit you and Astarion comfortably, while the partition was just enough to create a nice bathing corner.

The bed was made with a set of linen sheets, and covered with a thick duvet to fight the cold of the shadow-cursed lands.

You dropped your bag on the right side of the bed before making a beeline to the tub. You spent a solid two weeks only in the underdark, the lack of water to wash you was agony.

You made good use of your magic by filling the tub with it, and keeping it warm. You labeled create bonfire useless a long time ago, when you noticed it was not enough to even roast a goblin, but it worked wonders for baths when you were short on time.

You were quick to discard your clothes and sink in the hot water, the steam coated the mirror in the room, as you allowed the water to caress your body.

Only a few minutes in the water passed by, and you realized how exhausted you were. Your movements were slow as you scrubbed away the dirt and sweat from your skin. You untied your hair, finally relaxing your sore scalp as you took your time massaging in your shampoo.

You wanted to go out for dinner, but when you put on your clean clothes, and tucked yourself under the comforter, that inevitable loneliness started growing thick on your body.

You wrapped your arms around your pillow as for a moment you wanted to disappear. Though you didn't want to move from there, you grabbed a book from your bag, your mage hand opening it and holding it for you as you tried to get distracted.

What was worse than being touch starved and in severe need of affection? Picking up the wrong book.

A fantastical love story between gods. If the book could make Umberlee and Valkur fall in love and find balance then why were you still alone?

You wondered if your parents angered a god when they were younger, and as a curse you ended up being shadowed by the incessant feeling of loneliness. 

As Umberlee cradled against Valkur's chest, you couldn't take it anymore. You dispelled the hand, letting the book drop down on the bed, careless if you lost the page you were at.

Your eyes pooled with the familiar salty tears, that night in particular it felt harder to shield yourself from the pain. So before you could fully have control of your body, the warm tears were flowing out like a river. 

It was your routine, in a way, to just let everything out at night instead of bottling it up, though the warmth of the comforter was not enough to satiate the warmth you wish hugged your body, yet you still tried your best to imagine it was a warm body that was pressed against yours. A soft hug that was trying to shield you from the outside. A whisper that reminded you it was okay to feel like this. Yet at the end of the day, you simply hid behind the delusion.

You didn't know how long you stayed there, in that fetal position you couldn't help but ball yourself into. Even after you finished all your tears and all that was left of it was the stains on your cheeks and your wet pillow, before Astarion appeared from the door, you were still cradled in that position.

You didn't speak or move, you just sunk a little more under the duvet.

"I noticed you didn't join everyone for dinner." He walked to your side of the bed, you couldn't see him but you could follow his footsteps before feeling his cold hand tap on your shoulder. 

"So I brought you some food" His voice was a whisper, as he slowly looked around the room, and then to you. Trying to catch what was going on. Insight check: succeeded.

"I know you are not feeling well, darling." He sat on the side of the bed, his hand gently swiping away a lock of your hair so he could catch a glimpse of your face. "But you need to eat something" This was a side of Astarion which you rarely had the chance to see, it was reserved for those nights where you allowed him to drink from you: the ever so soft touch and a voice that felt raw, more.. intimate. It was something that always made you cry later when you'd be alone, the closest you've been to that kind of physical touch you missed so much.

So many nights you wondered if he would be this soft with everyone he'd bed, until he admitted he didn't know how to be kind, caring, sweet, if not for show, and he wanted to give you some kindness back. 

You risked so much for him, including your neck, so he wanted to give you back at least a soft touch before leaving you to sleep, or the closest thing to some affection that he could manage.

So whenever he'd give you even the smallest of touches, you'd bask in it, taking as much as you could even from those small interactions.

His voice shook you from your thoughts again, his thumb swiped away a tear you didn't know you were shedding.

"My darling, what's going on?" You could feel the concern snicker between the honeyed words, trying to coax an answer from your quivering lips.

You wanted to find an excuse, something that would be much more serious than feeling lonely, yet all you said was that last word, a pained croak that escaped your lips.

Your heart clenched tightly as he hesitated just for a moment, wondering how much he could do to help you, without scaring you away.

But then he sat up, he took off the outer layer of his clothes, almost making you wonder if he already brushed your pained confession aside. He quickly reached in his bag for his nightshirt and made his way under the duvet.

He didn’t forget, at all.

With his face to yours he leaned forward, his palm touching your warm cheek as he finally could see you better. You tilted your head, almost silently begging for that innocent touch. Yearning for it.

His thumbs slowly dried your skin, catching the tears that would spill.

You both laid there in silence, you closed your eyes to avoid his stare, which was concentrated in taking in your shivering body.

"I understand," He whispered, almost as if they were hiding from someone. "I feel lonely too, every night" His voice was just like a caress against your ears, though it hid your same pain.

You wanted to say something, but no words would come out. The tadpole in your head squirmed, reminding you of its abilities just for a second.

Astarion didn't hesitate nor forced you out as you probed his mind, and when you were safely tucked in there, you just allowed your thoughts to flow free. Your every emotion spilling like a cup of coffee on the floor, even- accidentally- some of those memories of the loneliest nights where you just wanted to give up.

As soon as you slipped out from his brain, you sunk your head in your pillow, trying to hide those tears that you were starting to hate so much.

You couldn't comprehend what was happening at first, until your warm skin met with Astarion's cold chest. His arms held you close as he waited for you to raise your eyes to his.

He didn't know what he was about to say or do, he just allowed his dead and touch-starved heart to take control. 

Your gazes mixed in the middle, the veil that usually covered his emotions was pulled away, exposing his own hurt, his own need for affection, before his words struck you.

It was the occasional broken syllables that caught your ear, the way his mouth twitched and twisted before finishing a sentence, and the way his body would stiffen as he'd almost felt like a plea. It was not just to comfort you that he did whatever he did, it was for him as well.

He needed it just as much as you did.

His words would still echo in your brain whenever he'd caress your cheek. 

"Let's pretend just for a few hours that we are okay, that we fell in love. Let's pretend to be vulnerable. I'll be here pretending until you need me to, cause at the end of the day, we both deserve to feel loved, even if only for a split second. Let's pretend we are not alone." It was something between a hopeful proposal and a sad begging, something that reverberated through you like nothing has ever done before. His eyes were barely open as he still held you, you could tell from the way his fingers lingered on your exposed skin that he was taking the most out of this, for the eventuality that you'd move away from your grasp.

Instead you leaned completely against him, your head resting against his chest as you nodded.

His body softened around yours, his legs intertwining with yours as he'd place a kiss on your head.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Bathena: First argument from season 4 resurfaces in season 7

Unpopular opinion: Bathena's arc in season 7 seems to be related to their future as retirees and it's a repeat of the argument they had in season 4.

Please understand, I'm not saying they will retire at the end of season 7 but I am saying it's possible they're being setup to start thinking about it so they can prepare in advance. If they are then Bobby will have to pick someone to train to be the next captain of the 118 and Athena may have to train someone to take over the region/territory she covers as a field sergeant.

Based solely on the conversation they had with Norman and Lola during their first dinner on the ship, along with Athena's fear of being alone with Bobby because she's not sure what they'll have to discuss when there's "no chaos" (her words to Frank), it appears their first argument that began in 4x12 and carried over into 4x13 and 4x14 has resurfaced in 7x1.

In 4x12, when Bobby was hyped about finding the treasure, Athena asked him where his interest in it came from and the last answer that he gave her was "We can even decide to retire". She looked at him and replied, "Retire? I thought you loved your job." He said, "I do but jobs like ours... nobody does them forever." He was correct because their jobs as a captain and a sergeant are demanding and they won't last forever. People can age out of them and sometimes employees are forced out for ReAsOnS.

To make a long story short, she said she planned to be on those streets (being a sergeant) until they forced her off them and Bobby was taken aback by her response then replied, "Somebody almost did" and he was talking about Jeffrey. They continued to talk but Bobby learned from the things she said that she had been offered retirement after 3x17 but she turned it down. He went on to explain that he didn't know about it and well... their communications or lack thereof, continued until it turned into a huge argument in 4x13 that went into 4x14. The only thing that stopped them from continuing was Hen's call to Bobby about Eddie getting shot.

They made up in 4x14 and they didn't discuss it again.

Fast forward three years and here they are again, faced with the real possibility that the day is coming when they'll have to retire. This is NOT about ageism or anything like that but it is about them being realistic. Everyone at the 118, Maddie and Athena are all seven years older than they were back in season 1 (Eddie and Maddie didn't join the cast until a year later but they're all older than they were) and Bobby had a point when he told his wife that jobs like theirs don't go on forever. Most LAFD and LAPD civil servants have the option to retire and collect their pensions at the age of 55 so it's an option.

Athena's explanation to Frank illustrated how she's afraid of the way their communications will be after they don't have their jobs to discuss anymore and she also mentioned how she's afraid to talk to Bobby about it.

Bobby believes she's avoiding him (she was) and it affected him so much he went to an AA meeting.

IMO, Norman and Lola are on the ship too as a way to show Bobby and Athena that retirement can be a good thing but they'll have to plan for it like Norman and Lola did. Reminder, they just kept popping up everywhere they went and Athena said she didn't like them. It could be because they remind her of their future. (TM is a genius for establishing their retirement arc this way.) Norman and Lola are happy and enjoying their lives while living on a cruise ship. While Bobby and Athena don't have to do what they did, their storylines do parallel especially since Norman specifically said he was a retired dry cleaner from Encino, CA and he wasn't a rich guy who had lots of bitcoin and he doesn't have a dongle. That was a direct callback to 4x12 when Bobby wanted to find the treasure so they could setup trusts for the kids, remodel their kitchen and guess what else? Retire!

After Lola finally got Norman's attention in 2x8, they've been inseparable. Also, don't forget Lola said she spent 18 years raising their kids and then Norman stopped seeing her. He really didn't because he was just going on with life but she thought he did. She explained that he came to see her everyday while she was in jail and they've continued to communicate ever since and now they can't stay away from each other.

Bobby and Athena spent most of 7x1 not communicating but when they got into their "crime fighting mode" after assuming Norman had killed Lola, like they've done before when they were investigating the owner who burned down his restaurant in season 2 and the casino heist in season 5, they were unstoppable. He's a fire captain so he knows fires and she's a field sergeant which means she knows crime and investigations, therefore, they're an awesome duo who could combine their skillsets and build an empire. IMO, they would make an awesome private investigations team but I digress.

Reminder, they're empty nesters now and when they're not at work, they spend most of their time talking about it. All of their friends are at work too and we never see them hanging out with other couples like Norman and Lola so maybe this is a good thing. Also, if they don't plan now, what are they going to do when they actually do retire?

Only they can answer that question or they'll end up like the first couple in the episode who had the fighter jet land inside of their home, onery, frustrated and angry.

Disclaimer: facing retirement is a real fear for some people because they didn't/don't prepare or discuss what they want to do after their jobs end. Some people make their jobs their life and when it's over, they don't know what to do with themselves. That's why work/life balance is important along with setting boundaries with an employer.

There's an old saying, "I work to live, I don't live to work" and it's true.

[watchyourbuck]

We’re literally DAYS away from s7 but I just watched the graveyard scene™️ and I have,,,, thoughts

I haven’t publicly discussed the lighting strike, the coma dream or the third kitchen scene yet, but there was something about this scene that irked me enough, so now im here

For starters this whole episode was centered around death. We have the Fake Funeral, Shannon’s grave, the Athena arc with the man who died then came back to life, and obviously,,, as one might imagine, we brushed Buck’s near-death experience (⚡️) — then at the end,,, the ever angering Buddie talk at a previous victim’s grave.

In this episode we meet Natalia, a death doula who Buck and the rest of the 118 tend to after an accident.

She quickly takes an interest in the recently Discharged™️ Evan Buckley, even asking him out on a date after finding out about his “acquaintance” (sic.) with death.

On the date per se she manifests her excitement towards Buck’s whole story, even prompting him to say ‘look at how excited you are. you’re like a real fangirl of this stuff.’

Upon research, I’ve found that death doulas are a real thing. Slow blink. I had no idea.

Thing is, she keeps saying how cool it is to have died and come back to life, imo pressuring him into discussing details he doesn’t seem all that ready himself to say out loud (he just seems to like her, however). He does anyway. She says how amazing and cool it is. Again.

We do not get more details of the date.

Now to what brings us all here.

The scene starts with Buck and Eddie in front of Marie’s grave (a victim they knew). Buck explains how she died and mentions Natalia. Eddie says ‘we’re all gonna die alone’,,, which,, 👁️ ok mister Diaz a little somber but um– let him cook.

Buck seems a lil taken aback by this, turning to look at Eddie quietly until he explains that’s what Marie said to him and Hen. Buck disagrees with the statement.

Then it’s Eddie’s turn to mention Natalia. “That’s a beautiful thing Natalia did for her,” he says, looking at the ground. I’m not particularly a Natalia stan, but I can say that at this point of the conversation Eddie means no ill-will towards her. She’s actually somehow a… background character (of sorts) to this whole story.

This is when it gets,,,, interesting 🧍🏽‍♀️

As soon as Eddie speaks, Buck takes a small breath and smiles. Like WIDE. (Like guys that’s the picture I just put above this whole scene) — BUT he looks like he’s a bit hesitant in entrusting Eddie with the fact that he’s seeing her. He even ducks his head a little bit, which is a clear sign of cautiousness.

Before Buck’s even done speaking, Eddie sighs and throws his head slightly back. I don’t have the WORDS to explain to yall the way this man looks like he’s e x h a u s t e d (they haven’t even started the conversation bro 😭)

“Really? Dating someone you rescued?” OKAY LISTEN TO ME. This is what sets off the Marisol arc. Before Buck started dating Natalia, we hadn’t even heard about Marisol in the whole season !!!! She was gone, poof! Then Buck gets all deathy-snuggly with Natalia and suddenly Eddie’s really interested in her (when not even half an episode ago he was telling Tia Pepa he wasn’t ready even if he didn’t wanna be alone). Otherwise it would be awfully cynical of Eddie to be saying all this when he’s planning on going against his OWN words in like two episodes……….. 👨🏽‍🦯

Not only that, but it’s the fact that he looks completely against it from the very get go. Ummmm Taylor was someone they rescued, so was Ali. We never heard this speech before did we??? “You know that never ends well.” Also it’s the second fact that he says YOU know it never ends well. Excuse me? Wasn’t Ana someone you rescued also? 🤨 it just seems like he’s trying very hard to convince Buck to not do this. How do I know this you ask??? Bc I’ve been in that situation.

When Buck starts defending his choices, Eddie only nods. He can’t even look at him. He’s defeated, but not AS defeated as he’s about to be. “Anyway, she wanted to ask me about the lighting strike” “Right. You love being the guy with the answers.” This is NOT PLAYFUL. EDDIES NOT SAYING THAT ENDEARINGLY. Omg I can’t even- he’s not fooling around the way a friend would tease someone about their hot new date, he’s deliberately using the same PHRASING Buck used with him and Chris like a minute ago. He’s hurt. Eddie’s HURT. By now Eddie thinks Buck’s just playing around with this girl. And he’s hurt bc when he had his moment with Tia Pepa, he envisioned a life for himself with Buck (and I can’t tell you it was super romantic or platonic, but in his head it was a family. All three of them. This was clearly breaking that vision that he took so long to accept).

Okay. “I feel like she sees me.” I have… I need to have extensive PTO rn cuz im seething. The way Eddie’s head immediately turns to Buck, even though he had been avoiding his eyes through the entirety of the scene. Another person said this so im not gonna take originality credit but: it’s like their whole friendship flashes through his mind, and his face contorts into a very painful ‘but I see you.’ I’m in so much pain lmao

Eddie’s literally scrambling now. He doesn’t know what to say, how to stop this pain. He’s lost Buck. He lost the man he’s been secretly and unawaringly in love with for over five years. He tries to be okay with this new reality asap. He hides his feelings. He starts joking. Buck’s not really laughing either, it’s futile.

“You haven’t been the same since it happened. But how could you be?” The last bit Eddie says to himself. He’s trying to adjust so fast he might have whiplash. It’s like he’s thinking: “if I had acted before this all happened, maybe I could have changed with you, instead of watching you change from a corner when im nothing but your best friend. No authority, no rights, no permission.” 😀 im ready to end it all btw

Thing is,,, Eddie STILL loves Buck, even if he’s convinced himself in his head right about now that he can’t have him. He’ll be happy (he’ll have to be) just being his friend, because losing his romantic love won’t ever be worse than losing him completely, so he says: “You don’t have to be anything for anybody.” Does this REMIND YALL OF SOMETHING ???

(gently borrowed from @loveyourownsmiilee – although it was a gif but I’m kinda computer stupid)

Anyway, then Eddie becomes a little preachy, ending it w “so what changed you?” Which honestly he says quite angrily and accusatorially. If you watch the scene he even nods his head up, pointing at Buck and separating him from himself. He’s cutting their lines. YOU changed. YOU moved on. YOU died. YOU didn’t wait for me.

Then Buck kinda extends his hand back. “That has to mean something, right?” (Cheating death). He looks at Eddie with hope, but the man ISNT LOOKING BACK…. And the window is lost. Eddie’s joking again, Buck looks away.

Whatever, the scene ends with Eddie wanting but refusing to look at Buck, while Buck stares into a hypothetical horizon with a glimmer of a new, different hope. He never realized Eddie’s heart broke an inch away from him.

“It’s all a gift.”

Not to Eddie, it isn’t.

[mintedwitcher]

I don't think it was you getting your hopes up too high, I think it was the marketing and teasing being done regarding the bucktommy of it all that let us down. Tim claiming in an interview that this was going to be something "sweet and tender" and yet, where? Then falling into the fox trap of giving us almost the entire scene in a teaser, because the scene itself was only barely a couple minutes longer than what we were shown ahead of time.

And if your hunch is right then we're not even going to see any of them actually dating because 7x06 is going to be the wedding.

Which renders all of the comments about their relationship from Tim completely and utterly void. Because how are we supposed to know this is a good relationship if we never SEE it?

Same goes for Eddie/Marisol. We don't SEE their relationship. From a viewer standpoint, going on this season alone (which is what most of the new viewers are seeing) their relationship is basically "she babysits sometimes, they hook up, now they're living together? Oh wait no they're not, because she's a nun and he has issues? And who is Ana?" And we're all supposed to see this as some good, healthy relationship?

Eddie hasn't addressed Christopher's abandonment issues (and if he wants to be setting a good example for his son as 7x01 set up, he's failing), we never got any indication that Eddie WANTED Marisol to live with him and Chris. Even the way he tells Buck about them moving in together is "She agreed to move in with ME," not "us" not "me and Chris". We don't know how long they've been discussing this (6 months into a relationship is too early to move in together regardless, especially when one party has a CHILD to consider) or how Chris feels about it.

This is another case of Eddie leaping before he looks, only this time its worse, and you can bet going off the way this season has been handled so far that there won't be any actual ramifications about it.

I have. Mixed feelings about the henren and Mara situation. On the one hand, I love that they were able to connect with her. On the other, I don't like HOW it was done. The rescue dog analogy was over the line, and the fact that there was no consequence for Mara assaulting Denny (and that nothing came of the "ripping up Dennys favourite toy" thing either) was... uncomfortable to say the least. There should have been no shame in Hen and Karen admitting that they are not equipped to handle a girl with the trauma that Mara has, because it's TRUE. They're not equipped for this at all. And now Denny has to live under the same roof as someone who lashes out violently as a trauma response, because Hen (through the writers) compared Mara to a rescue dog she saved.

(And that's not even getting into the uh.. implications of Mara being a black girl and the dog being a rescued fighting Doberman.)

I think, overall, this episode was just too cluttered. There are no consequences for the events of 7x04, there are no lasting effects from the basketball game or the "alien arm" call at the beginning of 7x05. We're all supposed to just jump right on board and believe that everything is peachy and everyone mended their fences mysteriously off screen, and that is NOT how this show is supposed to work. Especially when they are trying to establish it with a brand new audience.

Sorry this got long and I sorta hijacked your post lol but. Yeah. This episode was... a lot. I think if they'd trimmed the fat and kept it to two major plot arcs - preferably bucktommy and madney, since Buck's revelation and Maddie's wedding are the two big-ticket items this season - it would have been a lot smoother. But this felt too much like the end of season 6b. Too many balls in the air all at once, and not enough time to catch any of them, so everything just fell flat.

(Also the fact that the wedding is NEXT EPISODE and we haven't seen a millisecond of wedding planning or prep? Not even a vague discussion about venues or dresses or food or anything at all? Yeesh.)

I have so many thoughts about the episode.

First, the positives. The Henren moments were good, I’m glad they’re working things out with Mara. I love that they didn’t give up. Buck. Talking to Maddie about Tommy and Eddie was wonderful. Telling Eddie about Tommy and their hug and everything was great.

But, I’m just disappointed in the bucktommy of it all. It’s my fault for getting my hopes up too high, I know that. But I really wanted to see Buck and Tommy happy and dating. I wanted to see them going on dates and getting to know each other. I wanted to see them have a lovely first date, but instead we only saw The Cringe ending. Buck being left on the curb broke my heart. I don’t blame Tommy and I still like him, but I really hate that Buck’s “first date with a dude” ended like that. It hurts my heart. And then we didn’t get Tommy back until the end of the episode, when Buck to ask him to be his date to Madney’s wedding. Which, was wonderful. But I feel like we missed out on so much of the *good* that I so desperately wanted to see. And now having to wait 3 weeks to possibly see it…just not what I was hoping for at all.

And then just everything with Eddie/Marisol. It feels like we wasted so much time on the whole her moving in thing, for them to just end the episode basically how they were before it started. It also just didn’t make any sense to me. Eddie saying she agreed to move in as if that’s something he’s discussed before. Why did he even ask? What about the Christopher of it all, and his very recently established abandonment issues? I feel like that whole plot came out of nowhere.

Overall, I don’t think it was a bad episode necessarily. It was just the stuff with Buck that really soured it for me. I so wanted him to have a good queer experience. And everything after, the talk with Maddie, Eddie, and Tommy, just felt like too little/too late to remedy that. For me.

[kyuuppi]

“You lie to your best friend/crush that you have an OnlyFans just to see their reaction”

Ft. Sugawara; Nishinoya; Tsukishima; Oikawa; Kenma

Pt. 2

A/N: My bias is so obvious here LOL

KARASUNO

↳ Sugawara

➣  You are over at his house, the two of you idly watching a sitcom while browsing your phones and chatting in between; it’s comfortable, as times with Sugawara usually are.

➣  Every time Suga leans in to show you a funny meme on his phone or throws his head back in laughter at a joke from the show, you find your heart skipping a beat.

➣  He is beautiful, basically an angel in your eyes, but he is also your best friend and you don’t think he has any interest in you like that. Not in the way you do. 

➣  That’s how you get the idea to test his feelings. 

➣  Being the troublemaker you are (how else would you and Suga get along so well?) you decide to shake things up by casually mentioning you’re interested in starting an OnlyFans and asking if he thinks its a good idea. 

➣  You expect either of two reactions: either he’ll be as supportive as usual, possibly advising you to be cautious with strangers online like the mother hen he is, proving he only sees you as a friend—or he’ll tell you not to, possible evidence that likes you.

➣  The response you receive is not quite what you were expecting...

➣  Once the words leave your lips his head immediately whips around in your direction, light brown eyes looking at you with a serious expression on his face, something you’d never really seen before. It makes you uncomfortable and you begin to regret all of your life decisions.

➣  Suddenly though, he is leaning into you, his arms coming up to trap you against the couch as you try to back away. Your eyes are as wide as saucers and face completely flushed as he continues to stare you down before speaking.

➣  “Even though I’m your best friend, I’m still a man, you know. You’re being awfully cruel right now.”

➣ You audibly gulp, suddenly feeling light-headed but he keeps speaking, close enough that you can feel his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

➣ “Asking me to watch the person I like show off in front of thousands of other men? Even I have my limits.”

➣ And that marks the day of you and Sugawara’s first kiss. ♡

↳ Nishinoya

➣  Your best friend, Nishinoya Yuu, is notoriously unabashed with his affections. 

➣ The two of you have an interesting relationship—Noya has no qualms with expressing how pretty he thinks you are, borderline flirting with you at times, and you frequently return the favor. 

➣  But you don’t take any of it seriously, of course, regardless of how much you secretly wish it were real. Everyone at Karasuno knows about Noya’s undying dedication to the volleyball club manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, and he confesses his love to her at least twice a day. 

➣ Unbeknownst to you those professions became less and less frequent after he met you and now most of Karasuno thinks the two of you are basically dating

➣ The two of you are at the mall, a frequent hang out place where Noya can look at volleyball gear and you can browse manga at the bookstore, when you get the idea to prank your friend.

➣ “Hey, Noya? I’ve been thinking about finding a way to make more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so I decided to make an OnlyFans—I already have a few subscribers.”

➣ Nishinoya nearly trips and falls flat on his face. You would have laughed if it weren’t for how he immediately grabs at your shoulders, staring at you with a mix of anger and fear. 

➣ “Absolutely not! No one should be allowed to see your beautiful body like that but me!”

➣ You immediately fluster at his loud declaration, acutely aware of how other customers in the mall are giving the two of your strange looks as they walk by. 

➣ “B-but Noya, we aren’t even dating—”

➣ “Then let’s start dating!” 

➣ And what are you gonna do? Say no?

↳ Tsukishima

➣ Being friends with Tsukishima could be frustrating at times—a sentiment you and Yamaguchi frequently discuss when the blond isn’t around. 

➣ Tsukishima likes to think most things are beneath him and he’s too cool to find enjoyment in activities most other friends enjoy, ranging from mini golf to video games. The man seems content to waste his life away studying and listening to music if it weren’t for you and Yamaguchi forcing him out of his room. 

➣ Naturally, something like a prank war would be something Tsukishima would want no part of—not that that has ever stopped you. 

➣ Usually, your pranks are failures. Either Tsukishima easily figures out what you’re doing before it can happen or he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction, chastising you for wasting your time pulling pranks when you have a failing grade in mathematics you’ll later beg him to help you study for.

➣ He still helps you though, he’s whipped

➣ Your newest prank however, you feel exceptionally confident in. Not only is it simple to pull off, only relying on your acting kills, but it also might answer your curiosity on whether you have a chance in getting your dearest Tsukki to see you as more than just a friend.

➣ The day you decide to do it the three of you are hanging out in Tsukishima’s bedroom as usual, you working on the math homework Tsukishima forced you to study while he reads a book and Yamaguchi sits in the corner reading a book.

➣ You had already discussed your plans with Yama beforehand, to which his expression looked suspiciously devious, like he knew something you didn’t know, as he proclaimed his support. 

➣ You hear Tsukishima turning a page and decide to speak up. 

➣ “Hey, Tsukki, have you heard of OnlyFans?”

➣ You hold back a snicker as you see Tsukishima visibly tense, his eyes widening behind his glasses for a moment before he relaxes. From the corner of your eyes you can see Yamaguchi smirking behind his comic, watching the blond closely. 

➣ “...yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Tsukishima simply replies. 

➣ “I’ve been thinking about making more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so my friend suggested it. She said I could make over ten thousand yen a month.”

➣ “I think only the really attractive ones make that much.”

➣ You gasp, thoroughly offended, and Yamaguchi looks mildly annoyed by his friend’s response, already opening his mouth to chastise him for being so mean—but before he can say anything, Tsukishima is speaking again, still looking down at the book in his lap. 

➣ “Don’t do it though.” 

➣ “Why not?” You pout, refusing to look up at him when you speak. 

➣ “...I don’t want the person I like to do those types of things.” 

➣ You nearly choke on your own saliva, head darting up to stare at him in disbelief. Yamaguchi, for some reason, only smiles softly, looking unsurprised by the admission. 

➣ “W-what? You...like me?”

➣ “Oi, shouldn’t you be studying? One more F and you’re gonna flunk out of the class, dummy.”

➣ You’re slightly disappointed by the change of subject but when you notice the soft pink on Tsukishima’s cheeks you can’t help but to smile the whole time you finish your homework.

AOBA JOUSAI

↳ Oikawa

➣ Oikawa is a busy guy.

➣ You were well aware of that before the two of you happened to be paired up for an assignment and got to know each other, eventually becoming close friends. 

➣ Between volleyball practices, tournaments, magazine interviews, and appeasing a passionate fan club, Oikawa rarely has time for himself, let alone another person. 

➣ Despite all of that, you could tell he always made sure to spend time with you, dedicating a few weekends a month to hanging out, just the two of you, and constantly texting you in the times the two of you couldn’t physically be together. 

➣ From an outsider’s perspective, it was almost like the two of you were dating. 

➣ But alas, you know the sad reality is that Oikawa is most certainly not your boyfriend and you have no idea if he has any interest in your like that…

➣ ...Which is why you decide to try to make him jealous one day to push him towards confessing his feelings, if they exist. 

➣ The two of you are at a café, sipping lattes and gossiping about other students when you bring it up. 

➣ “Y’know...I’ve been thinking of making an OnlyFans.”

➣ To your surprise, Oikawa’s eyes seem to light up, his lips curving into a smile of excitement. 

➣ “Wow, really? Maybe I should make one too!”

➣ Oikawa immediately pulls out his cell phone and the color drains from your face as you realize your plan has completely backfired. 

➣ “My fans are going to love this—hey do you think we can do a collab? The two of us in one pic would make us top creators for sure.”

➣ You can only nod numbly with a fake smile at Oikawa’s enthusiasm.

➣ Oh god, you’ve created a monster…

NEKOMA

↳ Kozume

➣ Unless you’re Kuroo, becoming friends with Kenma is a nearly impossible feat. Actually making him want to spend time with you alone, even more so. 

➣ But somehow, you managed to work your way into Kenma’s tightly knit social circle more like a two point line segment of him and Kuroo and your evenings after his volleyball practice are usually spent in one of your bedrooms, playing Splatoon and Animal Crossing until your Switches die or your parents force you to come home for dinner—whichever comes first. 

➣ You love spending time with Kenma, his quiet presence somehow making you feel comfortable—but over time those feelings of ease have shifted into something more akin to nervousness and excitement as you’ve come to develop a crush on the setter.

➣ Every moment with him, watching the small smiles tug at his lips when he wins a match or his cute, frustrated pout when he can’t figure out how to defeat a boss makes your heart flutter and it’s becoming more and more painful to idly sit by without expressing your feelings.

➣ A direct confession, especially to a boy with nearly 0 social skills, is scary, so you want to be sure your feelings are returned before you even attempt to share them. 

➣ Thus, you’ve decided to take Kuroo’s advice.

➣ “Push him into a corner. Kenma will only act when he thinks he has to.” 

➣ You take a deep breath to steel your nerves before you speak, eying him sneakily from behind your Switch. 

➣ “Gamer girls and boys are kind of trendy these days; I’m thinking about starting an OnlyFans to make money to buy more games.”

➣ The only visible response you receive is a slow blink as Kenma continues to play his game, fingers tapping furiously on the keys. 

➣ “Ah...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

➣ “Why not?”

➣ There are a few moments of silence between you two, the room only filled with the SFX of your games as Kenma seems to finish his round. You recognize the victory music as Kenma pauses to finally raise his gaze to meet your own. 

➣ “It's your body so I can’t tell you what to do but...I would feel really jealous of all your subscribers.”

➣ And just like that, Kenma returns his attention to the video game, unpausing and starting a new match, blissfully unaware of you struggling to calm your racing heart and flushed cheeks. 

[piceuscelus]

do it right (monday) by piceuscelus

Chapters: 1/1 (7,726 words) Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Dara Characters: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Dara (The Witcher), Minor Original Characters - Character Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Age Difference, Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, Magic, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, POV Multiple, Knotting, elves have different anatomy, Kissing, Hen Llinge | Elder Speech (The Witcher), Discussion of Pregnancy, Discussion of Abortion Series: Part 1 of ciri week 2022 Summary:

“Now, are you still willing?”

He gapes for a moment. “Willing?” he asks, and then he catches up. Can we help her? We can, if there is anyone willing.

 Sweet fucking Melitele.

 “Yes,” he answers.

An elvish ritual has an unintended effect on Ciri, and it falls to Dara to help her.

full fic also below the cut! (the italics didn’t copy over, though, as usual, so it’ll probably read a bit more smoothly on ao3)

Ciri is…a little uncomfortable amongst the elves. 

Of course, she’s grateful that they’re letting her stay – sheltering her alongside Dara, keeping her hidden from the Nilfgaardian forces combing the countryside. After everything with the doppler, it’s a relief to know that at the very least they’ll have some warning from the camp scouts before any further chaos.

She knows that at least part of the discomfort is just the background human-elf tension, that no matter how long they stay most of the group will always keep her at arm’s length and out of circles. And that – it’s fine, really. Mostly, at least. It leaves her feeling unmoored and unsteady, if she thinks too hard on it, but it’s not…it really can’t be fixed, least of all by her alone. Add in that the elves know who she is – because she and Dara had been found bickering while burying the body of a doppler, and the camp had, rightfully, had some fucking questions – and she knows that the basic level of civility she’s treated with is more than a gift.

Still, though, it’s…awkward, is probably the best way to describe it. And it’s particularly noticeable on nights like this, when she’s left alone in the tent she and Dara share with a few other strays this camp has taken in. She’s the only human in the camp – or at least, the only full human in the camp, and tonight the elves are out in the woods doing…something. A ritual, is all Dara had said, and it had been clear that the vagueness was on purpose, so she hadn’t pressed.

And it’s not really that she feels left out so much as she’s not really sure what to do with herself. Earlier in the day, while most of the camp was still preparing, she’d kept to herself and done laundry, and then helped gather water with some of the other refugees. But by now, dark has fallen, and unlike during the day, the loneliness feels…more real, now.

There’s an irrational part of her that thinks they might have abandoned her, but she knows full well it’s irrational; if they were going to abandon her they’d send her out to forage and be gone when she got back, or they never would have let her stay. They wouldn’t plan for a ritual, let Dara tell her that it was happening, and let her help gather water for it. It’s just not practical.

All the same, she feels unsettled in her skin, and the longer she stares out into the darkness of the empty camp, the worse it gets. Finally, she can’t stand the feeling anymore and stands, intending to…well, she doesn’t know – she’s intending to do something about it, but standing outside the tent and listening to the moths buzz around the last sputtering candle lanterns isn’t terribly inspiring.

And then she hears singing.

It’s faint, at first, and then louder, and she realizes that it must be coming from the elves, deeper in the woods – wherever they’ve gone to do their ritual, whatever it is. For a split second she considers going back into the tent and maybe trying to sleep, but that thought it gone nearly the moment it comes, and she realizes that she’s…moving toward it. The sound, the elves.

She shouldn’t, she knows. She should stay at the camp, should leave them to whatever they’re doing, because if they wanted to include her, Dara would have told her that. She’d be there, if she was welcome – but she’s not, so she isn’t.

All the same, her feet keep moving without her permission, and soon enough she’s seeing the light in between the trees, soft and golden and flickering but bright, and large – a bonfire, maybe, she isn’t certain. All she can see right now is the light, and the trees, and when she steps a little further, the silhouettes of the elves. 

Finally, she’s able to force herself to stop moving, to not go any further and actually interrupt, crash their – whatever this is. Party feels…disrespectful.

This – it’s magic. She can feel it in the air, the faint buzz and crackle; Mousesack’s magic was different, but similar enough. The longer they all sing, the louder they get, and the stronger the charge in the air. She knows some of the words, but she can’t piece them together, and as she watches the light gets somehow brighter, and her head starts to spin. 

She squeezes her eyes shut against the glow, but finds she can’t escape it; the brightness glares through her eyelids, and bringing her hands to her face barely helps, either. She stumbles back, then, turning until she can face away, but it’s like the light follows her, and the singing is even louder now, as if the elves are shouting. She scrapes her hand on bark as she stumbles again, but she doesn’t stop moving, just keeps trying to stumble away, the light and the noise following along, as if it’s chasing her. 

Soon enough it’s not just the light and sound, either, it’s heat, and she collapses to her knees, moss and rotting leaves under her hands. She can just see the outline of her fingers, splayed on the ground, but barely, and soon enough she’s squeezing her eyes shut again as if it could help her escape the burn. 

It’s like a fever and a sunburn and standing too close to a hearth all at once, sharp, prickling heat with no sweat to cool her and no cover to protect, and soon she’s shuddering, even the veined red shadow of her eyelids starting to spot and swim.

She faints.

– – – – –

Dara can’t say what leads him away from the ritual, why when the priestess stops their singing he turns and stumbles into the woods, but he knows it’s important. It’s like there’s a hook in his gut, and the line attached has started to pull, and then, when he’s far enough he can only barely hear the priestess speaking, it yanks.

Of all the things he expects to find in the woods, Ciri is not one of them.

At first, he’s angry – it had been clearly implied, he thought, that she was not to follow them, that she was not welcome. That this was theirs. That he and his people have already given her so much, she ought to let them have at least something to themselves. 

But then he actually sees her – how she’s collapsed into the undergrowth, fingers pressed into furrows they must have dug there, cheeks scarlet while the rest of her skin is near translucently pale, and his anger is immediately dashed away by fear, bloodcurdling and cold.

“Ciri,” he calls, but she doesn’t so much as twitch. Her chest is barely moving. His heart skips. “Ciri.”

Still nothing, and when he goes to his knees beside her prone form, he can feel the heat pouring off of her, hotter even than the fire the priestess had been feeding. Touching her almost hurts, but he has no choice; she’s as limp as a corpse as he gets his arms around her shoulders and under her legs and lifts.

It’s not the first time he’s carried her, but it is the first he’s realized just how small she really is. His heart skips painfully again, and he turns back toward the faint light of where his fellows are finishing up the ceremony. 

They’ve broken apart and are gathering things, when he stumbles back into their midst, and he feels how the air seems to freeze along with them.

“I found her,” he says, and doesn’t bother trying to explain how or why, “something’s wrong.”

“She’s just dh’oine,” someone scoffs, and Dara’s panicked enough he can’t even pin their voice, “she’s probably fallen ill. Take her back to camp.”

“This isn’t sickness,” he insists. “I’ve seen her and other humans sick – this is different.” 

He pushes through their loose gathering to reach the priestess. Farryn, is her name, and he already knows that she’s the sole reason he and Ciri had been allowed to stay with the camp; he’d have been allowed, possibly, but without her say, Ciri would have been shunned. He doesn’t know what reasons she had for convincing the others to let Ciri stay, but he hopes that whatever they were, she’ll help her now, too.

Farryn’s eyes sharpen when he’s near enough that she can see Ciri properly. “Where?” she asks, and then steps back, gesturing to the stone dais they had used for their offerings. It’s still wet with wine, but he doesn’t hesitate to place her on it, cradling her head against the rough surface. 

“Between here and the camp,” he answers, finally, tearing his eyes away from Ciri’s deathly pale face to look at Farryn. “I just – I left, something called me, and I found her lying there. Is this a fever?”

Farryn steps closer and passes her hand over Ciri’s face, then down her throat and to her sternum. She’s frowning in concentration, and Dara holds his breath as if he might shatter her focus. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the others forming a bubble around the dais, slowly inching forward to stare. 

“It is,” Farryn says, softly. “But not one I’ve ever seen myself.”

“Can we help her?” Already, Dara is wondering how close Nilfgaard is, or if maybe they’ve moved on from the area by now – he knows there are healers in nearby towns, and if he has to carry Ciri to each one individually, so be it. 

As far as anyone gathered here is concerned, he and Ciri are the same age; his years count barely thirty, and while hers are less than half that, his kind live for so much longer. When they met, he hadn’t stopped to consider that she may consider it differently, and now that he thinks about it, he’s not even certain she knows. If he covers his ears, he looks very much like a human teenager.

But he’s not that, and as he cradles Ciri’s head and feels the heat rolling off of her, heart rabbiting, he feels…responsible. Whatever has happened to her, whatever this fever is – the others have no obligation to help her, but he does. He brought her here, and as much as he’s always considered himself at her same level, he’s lived many more years, and more of them in the shadows and mud; between them, he’s the one with any kind of experience.

Farryn hasn’t answered his question, though.

“Can we help her?” he asks again, and Farryn looks up at him. Her expression is sad, and her eyes are a little haunted.

“We can,” she says. “If there is anyone willing.”

Dara frowns. “Me,” he says, because he’d thought that would be obvious. “Of course, me.”

Farryn’s frown deepens. “We’ll see,” she says, softly, and then she’s turning away and barking orders at the others. They all startle and scramble, some heading back to camp, some deeper into the woods, and others begin unpacking the things they’d begun packing up. 

Dara can barely make himself listen or watch, he’s so focused on Ciri. Her breathing is still quick and shallow, her chest barely rising, and it feels like the fever is worsening, though he’s not certain if it actually is or it’s just the contrast of the cold stone against them. 

Farryn returns to them after a moment, carrying a curved blade. “Het ichaer,” she’s muttering, “I never should have done it with her here.”

“What?” Dara asks. “What about blood?”

Farryn barely glances at him as she sets a bowl next to Ciri’s limp arm. “Hers,” she answers, as if that explains anything at all. He watches with his heart in his throat as she picks up Ciri’s hand and uses the blade to draw blood from a fingertip.

“Her blood?” he asks, once he snaps his attention from watching the bright red drip into the bowl. “Never should have done this? Farryn, what’s going on?”

“She’s – different,” Farryn murmurs, and turns to grab something that one of the others has brought from the woods. It goes into the bowl with Ciri’s blood. “I’m not certain what it is. Or, well, I have a hunch, but it’s so far-fetched I won’t say it to you.”

“Would you speak plainly, please?”

Farryn finishes doing – something, Dara doesn’t know what, with the mixture she’s got in the bowl, and then she looks up at him. “The ritual,” she says. “The blessing. It was just meant to be a call for fertility, to help us when we struggle so much to conceive.”

“I know that.”

Farryn shakes her head. “You think you do,” she mutters, but before he can ask about that, she’s continuing. “She’s…something else, though, and I think it’s had the same kind of reaction a curse might.”

“Something else? A curse – what kind of curse?!” Dara tries not to panic audibly, but all the same his voice raises and cracks, just slightly, on the inflection. 

“She’s human,” Farryn says, “at least mostly. It’s her blood that’s different, her lineage. As far as the curse, well – you’ve heard of the foilé minne geas haven’t you?”

Dara blinks, and if he weren’t so highly strung and shocked all at once he’s certain he’d be flushing with embarrassment. “It’s – a…sex curse.”

“Except that a curse implies intention, and there was no intent behind this, yes.”

“...except there was!” He doesn’t really mean to shout, but he can’t help it. “Tonight, the ceremony, the offerings – the intent was fertility, conception. So you – ”

“Do you think I would have actually done it if I knew she would end up like this?” Farryn asks, cold, and Dara’s teeth click painfully as his mouth snaps shut. “I thought it might have an effect on her, too, like it hopefully will the rest of us. I thought it might even be a little stronger. But if I had thought, even for a moment, that she would end up dying from foilé minne, I wouldn’t have done it. Not without sending the two of you away first. Humans have nothing but my contempt, but she’s barely more than a child, Dara.”

Dara swallows the lump in his throat and nods. Ferryn nods back, a sharp, decisive thing. 

“Now, are you still willing?”

He gapes for a moment. “Willing?” he asks, and then he catches up. Can we help her? We can, if there is anyone willing.

Sweet fucking Melitele.

“Yes,” he answers, as steady as he can get it, because what else can he say? 

This was never Farryn’s fault. It’s because of him that Ciri is here.

“Good. Now, sit her up. She’ll only be lucid for a few minutes – you’re going to have to explain quickly.”

“Why not – ”

As if reading his mind, Farryn cuts him off with a, “Because if the both of you make it out of this, it’s not me who is going to have a half-elf bastard out of it.”

Sweet fucking Melitele.

– – – – –

The first thing Ciri registers is that something thick and gritty is sliding down her throat, and that her mouth is filled with the taste of blood and crushed herbs. She chokes, coughing, but there’s a hand on her mouth as soon as she does.

“Swallow, girl, you need it,” a voice says, and she pries her eyes open to find her vision swimming. Slowly, it stills out into still-blurry focus, though, and she recognizes – 

“Farryn?” The name is muffled beneath the priestess’ hand, but when it doesn’t move, she swallows pointedly. The elf squints at her for a moment, then removes her hand. “Wha’s….”

She’s suddenly shifting, and she lets out a yelp. 

“Sorry,” Dara says, suddenly in front of her. It’s him holding her up, she realizes, though she can’t really parse how. She just recognizes the feeling of his hands on her. He looks…scared.

“Dara?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly.

Ciri frowns, because what could he be sorry for? She…doesn’t know where she is, or what’s happening, but she remembers following the sound of singing and then heat, and…. Dara wasn’t there. Not with her, at least. She…must have fainted. Yes, she fainted, she sort of remembers her vision swimming, but….

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Dara repeats, but she doesn’t think it’s because he thinks she didn’t hear. “Look, I don’t – there’s not a gentle way to tell you this. The ritual we were holding, the ceremony – it was a fertility blessing, and it…. Something happened to you. Is happening.”

Ciri frowns harder. “What?” she repeats. Her skin is starting to crawl with heat again, but at least this time there’s sweat, too, though the adding tingling in…uh. That’s…unexpected and a little uncomfortable. 

“It’s a sex curse,” he finally says, sounding a little pained. “At least, more or less. You – we. We have to have sex.”

“...what.”

Dara’s laugh is even more pained. “You’re dying,” he says. “The ritual, it – something reacted, in you, your blood.”

Suddenly, violently, Ciri is thrown back to an open field and mangled bodies – the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown.

A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame.

“Dying?” Ciri whispers, vision swimming again.

“I won’t let you,” Dara says, sharp and firm. “I won’t, Ciri, I just – I have to, we have to – to save you.”

He’s asking, she realizes, in a sort of distant way as heat and tingling continue to crawl up her spine, through her body, til her head is spinning again. He’s asking, and she thinks if she says no, he’ll…let her.

Let her die.

Her breathing is labored, and she finds the only thing she can really focus on is Dara’s hands; they’re cold against her overheated skin, and his palms are smooth but his fingertips are callused. Like a string player. For a split second she’s distracted, wondering if he plays an instrument, but his voice calls her back.

“Ciri, please.”

She trusts him. Despite all of their bickering, the horrible things he said about her and her grandmother, she trusts him, because – because he’s earned it. He came back, after the doppler, and saved her where she was helpless and tied up. He helped her kill that monster masquerading as Mousesack. He helped her chip into the frozen ground deep enough to bury the corpse, even as he spewed vitriol the whole time.

He said he wouldn’t leave even if the elf camp turned her out. That he’d stay with her, like he did when she left Brokilon. 

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” And then he’s – kissing her.

It feels – incredible. And it’s not just pleasure, the illicit thrill of it, though it’s that, too, it’s…she’s so hot, skin crawling with the fever, and his hands on her back and her face and his mouth on hers is like being dunked in cold water. Like the time in Skellige that she jumped into the sea along with the rest of the clan, sharp-stinging cold that jolted her into a new kind of awareness.

There’s no jolt into awareness, here, but she feels like she might be swimming toward it, finally. 

She’s clumsy, as she tries to kiss Dara back, but he doesn’t seem concerned. She vaguely notes that he seems – confident. Smooth, like he knows what he’s doing, and for the first time she wonders how old is he really? but then Dara drags his mouth from hers and to her ear and she’s distracted from considering it.

“I think – I think I can feel it, too,” he murmurs. “It’s – not the same, not what happened to you, but….” 

If he has anything more to say, he doesn’t continue with it; instead, he drags his mouth down her throat. She gasps at the zing of pleasure that strikes her core, and he seems to notice, kissing back up the stretch of her neck and then back down, letting his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin. 

Now she’s whining. It’s an embarrassing sound, but she can’t stop; she barely has any control of herself, really only enough to cling to the stone she’s sitting on and Dara’s thigh. She can’t seem to figure out what they’re sitting on, or how he’s positioned in relation to her, but he distracts her once again by dropping kisses further down, along her collarbone and even further.

She remembers, suddenly, that she’s only in her nightclothes. She wonders, distantly and vaguely, why that hadn’t occurred to her when she left the camp, that she was hardly dressed, but it doesn’t matter now. 

Mostly, it’s lucky, because it means Dara only has to shift a little and tug at the large, scooped neck to bare her breasts, and his mouth is following along quickly. 

The pleasure of all of it has been shocking, really – his mouth and his hands and how well her body responds to him, how slick she is between her thighs – but this is something else entirely. The noise she makes is broken, caught in her throat as she tries to writhe, nails scraping rough and painful against the stone. 

Dara shifts again, and this time when her nightgown moves it’s because he’s pulling it up, uncovering her thighs and belly and then her breasts again. She struggles to help, letting go of his leg when he tugs at the sleeve on that arm, and then lifting the hand she has braced on the stone to let him pull the whole thing off, finally. Her hair is in her face, but that hardly matters when he kisses her again, still moving but in a way she still can’t seem to figure out. 

Until, of course, she’s suddenly being lifted. She yells, heart jumping to her throat, but Dara’s grip is sure and he’s murmuring soothingly as they move. Her vision is still too blurry to make anything out, never mind the fact that it’s dark and she doesn’t know where she is, but she thinks he turns them. She can tell he only takes about a dozen steps before he’s lowering her again.

It’s…a fur, she realizes. A smaller one, as her legs rest on moss and undergrowth, but a fur all the same, soft even where it sticks to her tacky skin. As soon as she’s laid out on it, Dara is laying over her, his hips pressed between her thighs and his elbows on either side of her face.

She…expects to feel his cock, expects him to tip her hips up and just – get on with it, really, but that doesn’t happen. His cock does press against her hip, blood-hot and hard and…a little oddly shaped for what she expects, actually, but she can’t really focus on that when he’s kissing down her throat and murmuring.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, “wish it wasn’t like this, that I could do it right.”

“Right?” she asks, feeling marginally clearer with so much of his skin pressed to hers. He responds to the way she rolls her body up against him by dropping a little more of his weight onto her, pressing her further into the fur and the soft ground beneath. 

He chuckles against her throat, but it’s strained. “I – you’re a princess, Ciri,” he says, and she…kind of gets what he’s saying, there, but also….

“Not anymore,” she reminds him, pretending it doesn’t make her chest go tight, and he shakes his head, though he doesn’t actually disagree.

“Even so,” is all he says, and then, after a momentary detour to mouth at her shoulder, “This is – something like this is…a gift, at the least. Sacred, at best. Having to do it like this…you deserve better.”

And she’s still hazy, still sort of trailing behind him, but that – it hits her and she snorts.

Dara leans up to give her an incredulous look.

“It’s a chore,” she counters, echoes of a dozen maids in her childhood echoing in her head. “Not – not always, but….”

He just sort of blinks at her, and then shakes his head. “Not for us,” he says, finally, and then he’s ducking back down to kiss her again, and this one feels…different. Softer, hotter. She whines into his mouth, and he sucks gently at her swelling bottom lip before he pulls back and puts his mouth back on her chest. She almost doesn’t catch how he murmurs, “Not to me.”

Something about that is….

Too much, she decides, unsure what to do with the myriad of emotions swirling in her gut and her chest, on top of the way her body is screaming a new, unfamiliar need at her. 

“Please,” she murmurs, entirely unsure what she’s even asking for. She knows the fundamentals of bodies and the basic mechanics of sex – her grandmother was protective, but not shy – but that’s all, really. It seems clear to her that Dara at least knows those and a bit more, so she ignores the way her stomach is twisting with uncertainty and gods know what else and just…trusts him.

He nuzzles against her breast and hums, the same sort of soothing as when he lifted her, and then he’s shifting his weight to balance on one arm instead of two. It pulls his weight off of her, mostly, and she whines, but he just kisses at her sternum and hums again. His freed hand trails down, over her shoulder and across one breast, pausing for just a moment to circle a fingertip around her nipple as she shudders helplessly, and then over her ribs and to her hip. Once there, he circles the touch in with gentle strokes, until he’s resting his palm over her mound, fingers held lightly against her folds.

Just as helplessly as the shudder, her hips buck, and that movement seems to be what he was waiting for. His mouth finds her nipple, and then his fingers are spreading her gently before just sort of stroking over the slick flesh there.

The sound she makes is close to a wail, loud and sudden and then choked, when he just sucks at her nipple and that stroking touch turns into his fingertips gently circling her entrance. Her hips buck again, and his fingers move back up, until that gentle circling is at her clit. 

Her skin feels electrified, and the heat is worsening but it’s good, now, it feels right. Dara’s mouth moves to her other breast, and he presses his fingers just a little harder against her, sending a shock of pleasure through her so intense that she jerks, the leg she has bent around Dara’s tensing and forcing him a little closer. 

With the way he shifted to touch her, his cock is pressed between his belly and her thigh, and he grunts when her leg forces him tighter to her, his own hips rolling and grinding his erection against her. This time, she can sort of pin what seemed odd about it – it’s more tapered at the top than she’d expected, and she can’t really tell if it’s just that feeling is different than seeing, or if his cock is actually oddly tapered.

…or maybe that elves have slightly different anatomy than humans, because now that she’s thinking about it, she’s fairly certain none of the scholarly writings and sketches she’d seen ever talked about elves at all. 

The movement of his hips doesn’t stop, either, and she can tell there’s – texture, almost, though that’s…not quite right. His skin feels just like any human’s, but it’s underneath the smoothness of skin. Soon enough, though, he’s shifting his fingers and thoroughly distracting her by holding her spread open with two while a third strokes directly over her swollen clit. 

She loses her breath, and then her vision goes, too, everything spinning and black-white-starry. She’s trembling, but Dara isn’t stopping, isn’t moving away; instead, he’s just firming the touch against her clit, moving faster, starting to bite messily at her breasts in between panted encouragements.

“Like this, just one, I promise I’ll give you what you need, but this first – ” he rasps, still grinding his cock against her thigh, the movement growing slicker with sweat or maybe precum, she doesn’t know which. He keeps murmuring, some of it choked, but she loses track quickly, the trembling turning into quivering into shaking, until the jittery tension finally snaps and she’s coming.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the small part of it that isn’t drowning in heat and pleasure and somehow worsened need, she realizes oh, so this really is why people do this so much.

There’s knowing, objectively, that orgasms are enjoyable and that people like them, and then there’s feeling it – the spiraling heat and seeping tension, how her heart hammers and then settles alongside a sudden lassitude in her limbs. She lets out a sigh she’s almost embarrassed of, it’s so – wanton.

“Gorgeous,” Dara is whispering, forehead pressed to her collar as he rocks his hips against her. “Gods above, look at you, want to do this again, later, when I can take my time and give you everything – “

Her stomach twists again, much more pleasantly this time, but already the heat is coming back with a vengeance to steal the afterglow, her hips cramping as they jerk up against his stilled hand. 

“Please,” she breathes, and her voice is startlingly raspy – she wonders if she was screaming, and pretends that the heat flooding her face is just more of the effect the ceremony had on her and not a blush. “I think it’s – I need….”

She knows what she needs, now; she needs him to fuck her, properly, but the words stick in her throat. She swallows against them, opens her mouth to try again, but still nothing comes out.

Dara says something she doesn’t catch, Elder Speech, she thinks, but his hand is moving then. “Okay,” he says. “Just, first – ”

His fingertips circle her entrance again, but this time instead of just being an electrifying tease, one of them is sinking slowly inside her. She makes another incredibly wanton noise, but can’t even bring herself to care about it, angling her hips up as if she could force that single digit any deeper. 

“Please,” she gasps again. 

“I know,” he murmurs back, kissing from her sternum to her mouth. “I know, I have you, just – let me, just for a second.”

She makes a vaguely assenting noise against his mouth, clenching down on the finger he’s rocking in and out of her. He grunts, and then there’s a second finger singing into her, and it’s – a stretch, one she can feel, like when she reaches above her head too far, but there’s no pain. She moans. 

“Fuck.” Dara sounds almost pained, but he kisses her again before she can try to ask, and his fingers are moving faster now, pulling almost all the way out before he sinks them back in, and it’s – good, it’s so fucking good, better than she ever though possible, but it’s not enough.

“Dara,” she pleads, voice pitchy, “Dara, please.”

He curses again, in Elder this time. His fingers slip out of her with an obscenely wet noise, and she whines in loss even as she realizes he’s moving to give her what she needs. It takes more effort than it rightly should, but she manages to lever herself somewhat up on her elbows as he settles on his knees between her thighs, wanting to actually see him now, at least as much as she can in the blurry dark as clouds pass over the moon.

She loses the thread of her thoughts, though, when she does look. He’s – handsome, even pretty, she knows that. She’s known that since the first time  she saw him anything resembling cleaned up, the first time they had to bathe together in a freezing river after the Cintran refugee camp had been attacked. But she realizes now that it had been purely objective, then, seeing his chest and the cut of his hips and his fine bone structure and knowing that he was conventionally attractive. 

What she’s experiencing now, watching him breathing hard where he’s poised between her legs, his cock in his hand, is anything but objective. Especially once her eyes land on his cock. 

With everything so shadowed, only the occasional beam of moonlight to highlight edges and base colors, it’s hard to really see, but she can get an idea – and she was right, earlier, with the assumption that maybe elves’ anatomy is different than humans.

It’s not unrecognizably different, the same basic shaft and head shape, but his cock is much thinner at the top than the sketches she’s seen of human men, and the whole shape is more tapered. Also, along the sides and bottom, thrown into more relief as he strokes himself and his fingers shift, are some sort of – ridges. The texture she’d felt, earlier. 

She swallows, and even if she feels a little unsure, the longer they sit in this sort of tableau the harder it gets to breathe and think so – she shoves it aside. 

“Dara,” she says, again, less of a plea but still very much a request.

His eyes drift up from where he’d been staring between them, and at least he looks as off-kilter as she feels.

“Yeah,” he says, as if his name had been a proper question, and then he’s shuffling closer and leaning over her again, their hips still separated but only just. Ciri gasps at the feeling of his cock twitching against her belly and lets him steal the breath right out of her with a kiss, the most desperate of them so far. 

“Please.”

– – – – –

He really doesn’t know what to do with how hearing Ciri plead makes him feel, so he shoves it pointedly aside and instead focuses on the here and now, the fact that no matter what trepidation he feels he cannot back out and risk her life.

Especially since he’d really rather like to give this a shot when it’s not life-or-death, if she’ll have him.

It’s easy, really, to slot their hips together, feeling the heat radiating from her cunt. She pants into his mouth when he kisses her again, and then whimpers when he shifts and drags the head of his cock over her folds. She’s so slick he has to keep a grip on himself to control the movement, and his heart hammers in his chest, wondering how much of that is the ritual, the effect on her, and how much of it is just her natural response. 

“Please,” she whispers again, lips still against his, and he kisses her again, shuddering at the sensation as he rubs his cock over her hole. 

“I have you,” he murmurs back, when he has to pull back to breathe. 

She just whines and hooks her legs around his waist properly, knees at his sides and feet crossed against his lower back. The movement rocks him forward, pushes just the tip of his cock inside her cunt, and they both freeze for the space of one rapid heartbeat.

“Dara,” she moans, outright moans, like the neediest whore, and any real control he was trying to exert is gone.

“Ciri,” he murmurs back, biting at her jaw as he sinks inside her with one smooth thrust. The searing heat and pleasure must scramble his brain, too, because the next thing he whispers is, “En'ca minne, yeá elaine.”

He has no idea if she even knows enough Hen Llinge to understand that, and he also doesn’t know if yes or no is the worse answer, so he bites his tongue and focuses on moving. Slowly, at first, at least as slowly as he can manage with his instincts beating at his chest to just take, to move faster and rougher. 

Needing to do something with that urge, he leans his weight to one side and drags his opposite hand between them, plucking at her nipples for a moment before he moves down, until he can get his fingers on her clit. She jolts and clenches so tight around him he’s afraid for a split second that he’s going to flare at just that, but the moment passes and he’s able to concentrate on moving his fingers and his hips in tandem. 

Beneath him, Ciri falls apart beautifully, seeming to melt everywhere except where she’s gripping onto him, hips tilting so he can shove just a little deeper. He hisses and bites at her throat, knows he’s leaving livid purple marks on the fair skin, and resists the urge to bite harder. 

Encouraged by the way she’s rocking her hips in tandem with his rhythm, how she’s gasping his name and please and arching into him, he moves faster. When she just whimpers and asks for more, he finally lets go, stops worrying so much about the pace and instead fixates on making her come on his cock. 

She’s so responsive it’s almost easy, and each new pleasure seems to overwhelm her in the best way, so he sets to it; rubbing consistent, tight circles on her clit, tilting his hips so his cock grinds against the sensitive front wall of her cunt, and when he can get his back bent the right way, sucking at her nipples until she wails. It only takes a few minutes of that dedicated attention for her to shatter, her wails turning into breathless screeching as she clenches down so hard he’s forced to stop thrusting.

Instead, he just grinds against her, struggling to breathe as his knot starts to swell – not to the point of a flare, not yet, but so close, and he doesn’t want it to happen yet, wants to make her come again first, really let her wring all of the pleasure out of this possible.

It takes several minutes of deep breathing as she comes down to get a grip on himself, but he manages, and soon she’s rolling her hips against his in a wordless demand. It makes him laugh, as strained as it is, but he moves.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmurs, and Ciri makes a noise in response, but he couldn’t say what it means. He doesn’t worry about it, instead just rolling his hips a little faster again, until he’s fucking her properly once more. 

He knows that even if he wants to he won’t be able to control himself this time; he’s going to come right with her. He shifts carefully, until their hips are more properly aligned and he can get his arm under her shoulders; she helps, unintentionally or not, by throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself up to cling. 

“One more like this,” he murmurs, lips pressed to her ear since she’s buried her face in his throat. He can feel more than hear the way she’s still whining, clearly overstimulated but still needing. “One more for me, en'ca minne, just like this.”

“Dara,” she mewls, and just like that she’s coming again, barely anything more needed than the steady roll of his hips and a little gentle pressure against her clit. He bites down on her shoulder to keep in a vicious noise, sliding his hand up her belly and then to the side, til he can curl his fingers around the space between her waist and her hip and steady her frantic movement as she trembles through it. 

“Fuck, Ciri,” he practically growls it against her throat as his knot finally flares, and he grinds as deep into her cunt as he can get, entire body jolting and head starting to spin when he feels how she squeezes around the intrusion.

Human women don’t lock properly, not like elves, but it’s as if their bodies know to try anyhow. All the same, bodily instinct or not, the sensation is clearly enough of a shock that Ciri’s mind objects.

Luckily, the grip he has on her is enough to keep her from jerking away and hurting either of them. 

“Shh,” he soothes, “it’s okay, minne, it’s alright, shhh.”

“What is – fuck,” Ciri whines, voice cracking, and seemingly without her input her hips are rolling against his, cunt clenching even tighter around his knot. The sensation of her squeezing like that, and the way she’s trembling as she grinds his cock deeper inside herself, has him shivering and whining himself, fingertips pressing little point bruises into her soft skin.

“Knot,” he says, shorter and sharper than intended as she squeezes again. “Just – don’t try to pull away.”

“I – fuck, yeah, okay,” she mutters, clearly distracted. He can sympathize. 

It takes a bit of effort, but he’s able to sort of scoot his knee higher on the little fur Farryn had laid out for them and then twist, lifting Ciri off of it so he can continue to turn and drop back on it. Unfortunately, the movement means that his knot just presses deeper, almost to the point that he knows he would be locked because of the shape of her pelvis.

She gasps and then mewls, and with a mind-bending little movement of her hips, comes on his knot.

He loses his breath, hips jerking as if he could ever get any deeper than this, with all of her weight pulling her to the very base of his cock. She just makes a cut off little noise, almost a sob, and sort of collapses down onto his chest, still shaking through the aftershocks. 

It takes a long moment for him to regain any of his thoughts, but when he does, he notices that she’s cooled off considerably – in fact, she’s shivering now, the sweat they’re both covered in probably chilling her something fierce. He tugs her down, grunting at the shift, and wraps his arms around her. He can’t do much else, pseudo-locked and out in the woods. He’s sure Farryn probably left more than just a single fur for them before she started herding the others back to camp, but he would have to look for that, and that just circles right back to the fact that Ciri is still caught on his knot. 

At least the fever is gone, and as her breathing settles, he can practically feel her overactive thinking returning.

“Shh,” he hushes, preemptively, but she isn’t deterred.

“Dara,” she says, softly, and her voice is serious enough that he surrenders and lets her sit up a little. He hisses at the movement, cock twitching inside her, but they both ignore that. 

“Mm?”

“...you said fertility ritual. Before.”

“Mm.”

“Dara, I – I have a cycle. I can – this is….”

His stomach drops out. Because if the both of you make it out of this, it’s not me who is going to have a half-elf bastard out of it.

He had known, of course, that it was the risk he was taking in saving Ciri’s life. But she hadn’t, not really.

“Elvish fertility isn’t great,” he offers, and it must sound as weak as it feels, because Ciri whacks his chest.

“With other elves,” she says, and she’s unfortunately right. Human-elf pairings are so much more likely to create offspring, and everyone knows it.

“It’s still possible you won’t take,” he says, and catches her hand before she can hit him again. He can’t resist the urge to kiss her fingertips, though, and he watches as her frown softens. 

“But if I do?”

He swallows. “If you don’t want to carry my child,” he says, carefully, refusing to acknowledge the emotional reaction to that that rises in his chest, “then we’ll go to the temple, or one of the healers in the cities. As long as we go early, they can get rid of it.”

Her eyes go wide, at that. 

“You would – ” she starts, and then cuts off, looking away. “I know half-elves are frowned upon, but – ”

“Children are…revered,” he interrupts. “And mothers the same. I told you, this, this act itself –  it’s a gift, a sacred one, and….”

“...and?”

“And I wouldn’t make you carry a child you didn’t want.”

No matter how desperately I want it, how much my people need children and hope.

She pulls her hand from his, just to turn it and cup his face. Her palm is small and smooth, her skin the kind of soft that tells of her origin. Her thumb strokes over his cheek while she looks at him. After a moment, he can’t take the intensity of the stare, and she doesn’t say anything when he closes his eyes and turns his face into her hand. 

Finally, though, she moves, and first he feels her lips at his temple, and then on the bridge of his nose, before her mouth finds his. The kiss is chaste and soft and sweet and his chest aches over it.

“Look at me,” she whispers, against his lips, and he goes cross eyed at first when he obeys, but she just leans a little back and smiles. 

“What?” he asks, after another moment of silence where she just smiles softly at him.

“No temple or healers,” she murmurs. “...at least, not for several months.”

Her meaning takes a long moment to sink in, and then he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum. 

“You – Cirilla.”

“That’s my name, yes.”

He laughs, then, even as tears gather in his eyes. “Ciri,” he breathes, and tugs her back down into another sweet kiss. “Really? Even if it means that a half-elf has a right to the throne of Xin’trea?”

Her smile widens into a grin. “Better than Nilfgaard, isn't it?”

The tears are spilling over, then, as well as the laughter again, and she shakes a little as she starts to giggle, and he can’t possibly do anything except roll them back over, her back in the undergrowth, and kiss her until the sun comes up.

[silyabeeodess]

So... Last night, I read the Balan Wonderworld novel.  It’s... something.  It's not bad--I did enjoy it and it does have its moments--but there’s bits that don’t really seem to work as well as they could’ve and they can add up.  To avoid major spoilers, like last time, I’ll put my thoughts below the cut, so be warned:

Most of my concerns are issues with the individual characters, but I’ll start by talking about the book itself first.  Because there are so many people and themes in it to discuss, with the plot covering every stage and each of the residents’ backstories, you have to move through events quickly: We don’t really spend enough time with any of the characters to know them beyond some basic traits and what they need.  Fine for a game and with visuals, sure, but not so much for a story.  Things can feel like they’re moving a bit too fast, which I can excuse because of the large cast number; however, the writing only amplifies the problem and makes it feel like the book is being padded with wasted, repetitive dialogue that takes away from the story. I want you to imagine taking the 12 Days of Christmas and turning it into a novel--not with the things divided up into each individual day, but each chapter repeating all of the other days that came before it.  It’s stale, it’s droning, and you as a reader will just end up skipping through material after a while.  The book does this through the visions the characters share of Balan and Fighter/Emma, with Streetbeat/Leo and the residents each having them with slight differences in-between.  As you meet each individual resident, one by one, they repeat a lot of the same things over and over.  Not only that, but then you have to loop back through them and their stages a second time as Leo saves everyone.  It’s not quite as bad as my 12 Days of Christmas example, but it does get to the point where you’re ready to say, “I get it! Your lover gave you calling birds, hens, doves, and a partridge--please, just move on already!” There are such easy fixes to this issue too, like having characters already meeting in each other’s stages to cover them together, maybe summarizing the differences in their stages to set up Leo’s expectations before he sees how distorted they become later on since he’s going to have to visit each one anyway.  Instead, time is wasted that could’ve been spent on descriptions or building the characters in other ways.      

I think the one character that suffers the most because of this Fighter/Emma.  Because she’s placed in the story with the same mystery as Balan and viewed as a villain by the rest of the cast up until the end, she’s constantly being sidelined even though she’s a main character.  She’s used more-so as a plot device for Leo, running off to do her own thing when she’s no longer needed, and then gets no conclusion where all of the other characters do.  It’s like that meme where a person asks, “What about Emma?” and everyone just repeats the question dismissively as an answer. Again, I get it, we’re following Leo’s story here just as we would only be following one of them in the game, but it’s bad to keep dismissing her all while using her as a necessary key to saving everyone else.  I guess it’s implied at the end that the Wonderworld gang might seek her out too, as they did with each other, but she’s barely a footnote.  Balan and Lance suffer a little bit too, but do make enough satisfying reappearances that it’s not as much of an issue.  

I kind of want to avoid talking about the writing style further, as I can’t help but wonder how much might be more of something like a translation issue; however, I will say that if you plan on reading this with a young reader, be ready to explain some extensive vocabulary to them.  The style itself isn’t very flowery, the book isn’t a heavy text, but there are some words they won’t understand that can’t be deciphered by using the surrounding text.  Like I said, the book doesn’t have a strong focus on description: Moreover though, there’s not as many illustrations paced through the book as you would imagine based on the preview.  You end have having to rely on what you already know going off those first images at the start of the book introducing the characters or if you’ve played the game. It’s not a big thing, but I can see it being a small problem if you chose to read the novel alone.  I tend to lean toward styles with heavier description in both my reading and writing though, so that might be a bit of my personal bias as well.  Some of you may prefer it as it is.

Now getting on to the individual characters... Oh boy, is there some stuff to go through.  Let me start with the one I’m actually a little uncomfortable with, as her actions affect some of the other characters as well in major ways: The Clocktower Kid/Cass Milligan.  Throughout the story, we’re given clues that she has a big crush on Pensive Perriot/Attilio Caccini--who, as most of you likely already know--is in love with a woman who works with him at his theme park as a princess.  By the end of the book, it’s revealed that there’s a near decade-long gap between when the two stepped into Wonderworld and that Cass is the princess...  Thankfully, Attilio showed no interest in Cass as her child-self and this means that they’re actually close to the same age, but let’s unpack the assortment of other problems this brings up.  1.)  This goes beyond a childhood crush with someone older that most people get over: The girl devoted a decade of her life to getting the princess role so she could be with the guy.  If it was a year or two between teenagers, that would be one thing: This borderlines obsession.  2.) She knows who Attilio is from the beginning and waits for him to confess his love to her before revealing her identity.  She says it’s because she didn’t want to risk messing up the timeline, but her own actions could’ve done exactly that had the princess role been meant for literally any other girl on the entire planet.  She didn’t know that she was meant to be the princess: All she knew was that she wanted to be with Attilio.  3.)  Either Attilio just kind of accepts all of this or, again, the pacing won’t give us some much-needed details, because the next thing we know we’re getting to their engagement and honeymoon months later.  Keep in mind: While she waits a decade for him, his confession takes place barely a few hours after he leaves Wonderworld.  I think the guy would need at least a little time to process everything.  4.)  While the book seems to stay close to the game’s canon from what I’ve seen, this particular relationship is handled even weirder in its cutscenes.  For one thing, it’s not revealed that Cass is the princess.  For another, despite this, we see her with Attilio anyway as her young, childhood self--granted, without any big hints to a romance between them. I’ll let you dissect what you will from that.

Let me get to The Checkered King/Cal Suresh next.  In the novel, a couple of the characters had their backstories tweaked.  These changes don’t interfere with what we see from the game’s cutscenes, but they do add more context to them that changes what particular issues the characters are suffering through.  In Cal’s case, his obsession with his champion title in chess led him to ignore his dying wife, adding an extreme sense of guilt and longing that wasn’t there when we believed this was just a matter of his pride and sense of identity alone.  Enter Cass, who reappears in her timeline before this death takes place, finds out who Cal is... and apparently does nothing to warn him. We can use her timeline excuse, but this is someone’s dying wife we’re talking about--she even sees him grieving over her in an illusion as they’re all leaving Wonderworld.  Even if no one could do anything for Mrs. Suresh, even if Cal didn’t listen to Cass and dismissed everything she had to say about wasting precious hours better spent with the people you love, I think an attempt at talking to him would at least be necessary.  No though, the book just ignores that while the two of them and Attilio eat snacks together.            

Cal isn’t the only one who had the added trauma of death: They did it to The Watcher/Sana Hudson too.  In her case, she was trying to protect some endangered birds that were killed--both directly and indirectly--by the construction workers in her area, leading her to despise humanity for its “greed and selfishness.”  Now, her situation/feelings is/are perfectly understandable, especially given how the construction workers in the story are portrayed.  What doesn’t really work is the context surrounding the issue and her actions involving the event. Now, I admit this first point is a bit weak as I can’t speak for the regulations across every country and we don’t know exactly where Sana is from, but a lot of places have heavy regulations and work with big organizations to protect endangered species.  Not to mention this is a bit of a heavy topic with much-needed context for a book like this to properly cover.  This fact isn’t even glossed over though and the workers have no problem cutting down the birds’ tree despite how this would likely cause massive legal trouble for them and be a major deterrent as a result.  As to the “greed and selfishness of man,” this doesn’t really work well considering that the workers are trying to build a residential area.  A cost to the environment?  Yes.  However, it was likely ordered for the benefit of the community.  We see this debated a little more evenly in the conclusion to Sana’s story; however, we’re also pretty much told “Yeah, humans are terrible and can never change. Pick birds over them,” beforehand.  Lastly, Sana’s own actions--or rather, lackthereof.  When the birds lose their tree, their eggs are destroyed and the parents stay behind out of their love for their deceased offspring rather than leave for winter later on, resulting in their deaths.  To try to prevent this, Sana begs the birds to leave... Let me repeat that: She begs the birds to leave.  The problem?  They’re birds.  They’re animals.  And, outside of the theatre, this is supposedly a world just like ours.  You can’t reason with a bird like a person.  She could’ve just as easily tried to capture the birds and brought them somewhere safer herself or called someone who would.  If that didn’t work, at least those actions would make a lot more sense for the hatred she feels towards other humans: Instead, this decision makes their deaths kinda her fault too for leaving them there despite knowing what would happen is she did. 

I don’t know how I feel about the added issues involving death.  Yes, there’s a lot surrounding that theme alone to cover, but part of Balan Wonderworld’s charm is confronting all these people with extremely diverse problems, some stemming from issues beyond their control and some their own, internal struggles. The inclusion of death might have made the consequences of events more traumatic, but I think to a detriment.  It doesn’t affect Sana as much, but Cal’s case is the worst, as his wife’s passing echoes the regret and mourning we already get from The Lady/Iben Bia’s story when it could’ve been it’s own, independent thing focusing on pride, identity, and a sense of fulfillment that we see more in his game counterpart.  I can’t help but feel that we miss out on a wider range of messages by emphasizing on the aspect of death so much.         

Lastly, let’s get to Balan and Lance.  Overall, I greatly enjoyed the twist at the end with the connection between their characters.  The problems I have with them, honestly, I debate whether or not are even problems at all as they do address real concerns that perfectly fit what individuals in their circumstances would go through.  First Lance, then Balan, they’ve spent a millennia helping others repair the imbalance in their hearts.  People come, people go, and they’re left behind, forever alone in that that theatre.  It would be crushing.  Lance already broke under the weight of that pain, which is why Balan exists--and now he’s likely doomed to continue the cycle as he suffers this same degree of loneliness.  My main issue is that there’s so much to cover about this that we’re barely given a teaspoon of.  The author couldn’t really give us much, as this book’s main focus was on Wonderworld’s inhabitants.  It feels though that there’s something being built-up that we might not ever get to see completed depending on how successful the franchise it, which is sad if that’s the case.  (Hey though: That’s where we fans usually step in, right?)          

Secondary to that is that there’s a level of hypocrisy to Balan, Lance, and how they engage with the inhabitants.  I kind of love it, but this is where I’m a little conflicted since Balan is supposed to be the one helping people fix their hearts.  Two general themes that carry over greatly among all of the inhabitants is the importance of love and friendship, how we rely on others to grow and save us from the worst of ourselves.  Balan, however, is required to stay detached from others no matter how much it hurts or what it will inevitably lead to, as everyone must leave Wonderworld eventually.  It’s a conflict of interest.  Ironically enough, it’s Lance’s decision to trap Leo in a stage and his overwhelming longing for true connections that allow the inhabitants to find and help each other.  It’s bad that Balan and Lance couldn’t take the lessons they gave others and apply it to themselves, because their situation is so extreme. 

Furthermore, there’s a hypocrisy between Balan and Lance in their decision to wipe the inhabitants memories.  It’s revealed not to be a magical phenomena caused by the theatre itself once people leave it as many of us thought, but rather a conscious choice Balan makes--just like Lance.  However, while Lance does it to keep the inhabitants contently trapped inside their hearts, we’re not really given a reason for Balan’s actions. Memories, good and bad, are a vital piece of us: We reflect on them as we grow to maintain the lessons we learned in those moments that make us who we are.  We see the danger of lost memories not just with Lance, but with Balan as well as part of Sana’s conclusion alludes to a potential relapse.  It was her connection to the people she met in Wonderworld that allowed her to recognize one of them--Eis Glover--back home and keep her grounded in another, potentially shattering instant of her life. Similarly, Leo only managed to restore his imbalance because of his friendships with the other inhabitants--friendships he was destined to lose the moment he walked out of the theatre had Balan taken everyone’s memories.  This too, I feel, could’ve caused Leo to relapse.  If so, Balan’s choice to let them keep their memories of Wonderworld likely prevented them from needing to come back to the theatre--at least not as often as they may have needed to otherwise.  Let’s get to the question Lance brings up at the end: “Honestly, enough with the self-deception.  You normally take everyone’s memories when they leave, so why this time did you make an exception?” It could be that Balan simply didn’t want to be forgotten anymore.  It could also be that he loved them enough that he didn’t want them to suffer to the extent where they had to return to the theatre even if it meant there was a chance he wouldn’t see them again.  That idea would beg a second question though: Why did Balan erase the memories of every inhabitant who came before them?   (If it isn’t obvious by now, this scene was my favorite bit in the whole book.)    

I know this whole post seems to be mostly a series of complaints, but I did enjoy the book overall: I just have a tendency to look at every detail and, when things don’t work, they stay in my mind for a long while.  Like I said at the start, the novel isn’t a bad read, it just has some bad points.  If you’re already a fan of the game, you’ll probably enjoy it too.  If not, I’d recommend checking out some of the other content available--like the video previews/cutscenes introducing the characters--before stepping into this.   

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Imposter Syndrome Part 6

4,600 words of collaboration and training! I’m sorry for how long this is. Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting (also, thanks for RJ!), @maple-writes (also thanks for Volt!), @pen-of-roses (also, thanks for Reine and Aleksis!), @thoughts-of-nora (also thanks for Syl!), and @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Atwater!)!

For the first day of training, I just observed all of the other tributes to see who might be willing to listen. It certainly wasn’t because I felt a little worried about the plan. No way.

My mind kept going through ideas of how to make the plan better, or even make the plan have a back-up plan. But I couldn’t think of anything. And I was just going in circles. I couldn’t even sleep that night.

I jumped out of bed and started pacing. How was I going to save all these people? My plan was tenuous, at best. What if the Capitol figured out about it anyway, and Shine wasn’t able to save us? Would they all die because of me?

I hissed out a breath, and I opened the door to my room silently. I had to get out, clear my head, and just screw with the Capitol.

The best way to do that: go steal a hat or something from a dumb Capitol person. And I knew just the one. District 9’s escort didn’t exactly have a hat, but he had to have something fun to steal in that over-the-top wardrobe.

In my preparations for the plan, I had figured out the codes for the elevators in the training building, so I was able to access the elevator and head down to the District 9 apartment. Going through the front door probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but no one should be up at this time, or expecting this.

The lights were off when I got to their apartment, and I grinned. The designated room for the escort was at the back, so I snuck back there. There weren’t any sounds in the apartment, so they should all be asleep.

And right when I thought that, the elevator door opened again, and two people walked in. How? Did they know the codes too? And I was in plain sight. I froze as their eyes landed on me.

The one in front stepped in front of the other one quickly. They were wearing dark clothes, and the one in the back was holding a bag. Hopefully not Peacekeepers.

I shrunk down and looked around to see if there were any escape routes. None, of course, except the elevator behind them. “I’m sorry. I’ll just leave now, if that’s okay.”

The person in front relaxed and said something I didn’t understand. The person behind her turned on the lights. Oh. Reine, one of the tributes. And a stranger. Reine turned back to me, crossing her arms. “More concerned with how you got in. District 10, right?”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded. Man, how incompetent was I? I couldn’t even go steal anymore without getting caught.

“Remind me to work with you on your interpersonal skills if this plan of ours is ever going to work,” the man said, heading to the kitchen. “She’s all bark, really, well. Usually anyway. We won’t report you or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Be kind of idiotic when you saw our secret as well,” Reine cut in. She sat down and put her feet up. “If you tell me why you learned the codes here, I’ll give you whatever you came here for. Unless it’s to kill us.”

Were they lying? Well, I had caught them sneaking out too, so there was no reason to think they would report me. Fine. Rolling with it, it was. I sat down too and smiled. “Honestly, I figured out the codes to the elevator so I could screw with the Capitol in any way I could. I came here because your escort has a gaudy wardrobe, and I wanted to steal from him.”

Reine watched me for a little bit before she grinned. “Well, pirate, I think we’re going to get along just fine. Unless the clothes you keep finding yourself in are just for show? And trust me, I will gladly let, no help you steal as much as you want from him.”

“Oh gods there’s two of you.” The man sat down across from us. “No, no this could work. How far would you be willing to go to mess with the Capitol?” Pause. “Oh, where are my manners? I am Aleksis Arkender, at your service.”

I nodded. “Triel Reeves. And I already have a plan to help as many tributes as possible to escape from the arena. So, I’d say I’m willing to go pretty far.”

They exchanged a glance and talked in that strange language for a little bit before Reine turned to me. “You’re not lying are you? That’s a pretty big claim.”

“And a pretty big coincidence,” he added.

I sucked in a breath. “I’m not lying. And I know my plan sounds stupid, but I’m going to help as many tributes escape as possible. I have an airship, and my engineer has made machines that can help us avoid detection.”

“Don’t misunderstand us,” Aleksis said. “We don’t think your plan is stupid, we think our paths just happened to align at the same time. Call it—”

“Don’t you dare,” Reine cut in. “What he’s trying to say is that we were planning the same. Well, not exactly the same, but to escape.”

This was perfect! I wasn’t the only one trying an escape, and they probably had a better plan. “Really? What’s your plan? Do you think we could work together?”

“I definitely think we can and should work together. If you really have a ship that already secures one part. Their forcefields aren’t quite as great as they like to pretend, there’s easily exploitable weaknesses if you know where to look, though that will take both someone inside the arena, and at least one person on the outside who can find a way into the control room.” Reine sat up now as she got into the details.

“Or access someone with that access,” Aleksis said.

“Right, well we don’t have to detail all of that, Allie. Anyway, we’ll need to get as many people on board with the plan as possible. We can only have access for a limited time once it starts. And there is one problem of not communication with the outside once we’re in.”

I smiled. Thanks, Shine. “Well, I might be able to help with the forcefield. I got blueprints for the arena for this year, and that included the forcefield, and my engineer has been working on a machine to disrupt the forcefield. And I have no answer for contacting when we’re inside the arena. I’m not even contacting my people now because of the possibility of the Capitol figuring out my plan.”

“I can slip in and out of here without much notice if you did need to get them a message, or Conor could, for the right price,” Aleksis said.

“Being able to cause more chaos would probably be enough for him,” Reine added.

“Right. And I will be able to get messages to you in the Games through the…oh what are they, floating packages, gifts.”

“See I’m not the only one who struggles with it!” Reine looked oddly gleeful at that.

I grinned, though. I wasn’t alone! And I could talk to my crew if necessary. “That’s perfect! Thank you!” That sounded like a good talk for now, so, back to business. I grinned wider. “Is there anything else you want to discuss, or could we go steal from that escort now?”

She smiled and stood up. “After you. And please, take as much as you like.”

*

Armed with a new confidence and new allies, I strode into the training hall early to look for potential allies. But I didn’t want to be too obvious. So, I went over to one of the survival stations and watched the other tributes out of the corner of my eye.

And the tribute at the agility stations caught my eye. RJ. She was going through them, but then she fell badly, and tried to cover it up with a loud comment.

Mood. I walked over with a smile and held out my hand to help her up. “Be careful. Don’t want to get hurt before the Games.”

She laughed and took my hand, standing up. “Thanks, but I don’t get hurt that easily.”

Time to probe a little. “I’d hope not for someone who volunteered for the Games. What were you thinking when the words left your mouth? Were you looking for glory?”

She shrugged. “Glory is overrated. I just felt the need to do something. I’m not one that likes to just sit and watch.”

Perfect. I crossed my arms, and my smile turned into a smirk. “Well, how would you like to do more? Me and another tribute are planning an escape, where we get out as many tributes as possible. We could use someone like you.”

She blinked, her eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head. “Nope. I have an airship and an engineer who’s great at making machines against all the Capitol’s eyes, and they have someone on the outside who can keep us supplied and alive until we can escape. It’s no joke. It’ll work.”

RJ hesitated, but then she laughed. “Alright. This could blow up horribly in our faces, but I’m in.”

I grinned. Perfect! “Hey, what’s a little mischief without risk involved?” I held out my hand for her to shake. “I’m glad to have you.”

She shook my hand. “Glad to be a part of this. Just let me know what I can do to help.”

“The first thing you can do is recruit as many tributes as you can. It would be much appreciated.���

“I’ll do my best. It should be easy, right?”

I shrugged. Volt and Atwater had been skeptical, so it wasn’t super easy. “Some of them don’t exactly believe it’s possible, so they’re harder to recruit, but I’m in the business of doing the impossible, so I’ll take those chances.” I turned to leave, already scanning for other tributes. “Thanks! And see you soon!”

*

After the lunch break, my eyes found Syl, who was throwing knives. They had a deadly aim. They would be awesome to recruit! I walked over with a big smile. “Hi! It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Uh, sure.” Syl spared me a glance before they turned back to their knives. “Who are you?”

“Triel Reeves. I’d tip my hat to you, but we aren’t allowed hats in the training arena. Believe me, I tried on the first day.” I watched them throw a knife right into the center of a target. “You’ve certainly got the spirit to match the fire in your eyes at your Reaping, but do you really want to be in this death match?”

“Do any of us really have a choice?” They sighed, biting their lip. They threw another knife. “I don’t want to kill, unless I have to. And I don’t wanna die, so…”

“A tough decision.” I paused watching another knife throw. Good enough time to ask. “But maybe you don’t have to make that choice. Would you be interested?”

They paused and looked over at me incredulously. “You’re joking, or trying to trick me.”

I shook my head. “I’ve teamed up with another tribute, and we’ve combined our individual escape plans into something better. We want to get as many tributes out of the arena as possible.”

They narrowed their eyes. “No price? Just wanna get us out of there? Out of your own goodwill?” Good point. They scoffed. “If this was real, then I might come. But I barely know your name. How can I trust you?”

I grinned as the darker emotions behind my plan came to the surface. “If this is more believable, I want to rescue tributes not just because I want to save lives. I also want the Capitol to burn for all the lives they’ve ruined. But, I’ll settle for making them sweat right now. If we can pull this off, they’ll know they’re not as all-powerful as they think.”

A grin flashed across their lips. “Pull one over on them.” They twirled a knife in their hand. “I like this plan. But, fair warning, if I find out that this is a trick, I will hunt you down.” They threw the knife, and it hit the center of the target. “If this is real, then I’m definitely in.”

Now, that was sexy. I nodded. “I don’t doubt you could skewer me in a second,” I said in a low, flirty voice. I held out my hand for them to shake, and changed back to my normal voice. “Thank you for trusting me on this. You won’t be disappointed. If there’s any way, could you recruit some other tributes for the plan?”

Syl put down their knife and shook my hand, their eyes glittering. “I can try to recruit. I look forward to it. Beating the Capitol at their own game.”

I grinned. “The best of plans. I look forward to working with you.”

“Back at you.” They smiled and turned away. “See you later.”

I nodded and walked off. It was going well so far.

*

That night, I thought more about the plan. Now that I had more people who also had a plan, it wasn’t all on me, but…

They had a plan. They knew what they were doing. So, if this failed, it was my fault. So, I had to make sure everything went right. So, it actually still was all on me.

Which meant that I had to get it off my mind, or I would obsess about it the whole time. Which meant that I had to screw with a Capitol person, namely the Peacekeeper I bumped into the on the second day of training who had interesting knick-knacks in his pockets. He had snapped at me to pay attention.

No worries. I would pay close attention to him. After I got a team together. And who better than the tribute who swore like a pirate when he was chosen?

I put on my best smile and approached Atwater as he was not doing anything (at least how I saw it). “Sooo, I have a proposition for you. I want to screw with a Peacekeeper, and I bet you’re a good thief. Would you want to steal from a Peacekeeper while I talk him to death?”

“I don’t grave rob as a rule,” he said pleasantly, “and I resent that accusation. Also, Peacekeepers don’t tend to carry much I find worth stealing.”

I thumbed over my shoulder at the Peacekeeper I dubbed Steve. He was snapping at other tributes who weren’t even doing anything wrong. “Steve over there would like to say otherwise. I got a sneak peek at his pockets, and he has a wealth of valuable knick-knacks. Probably from the people in the district he terrorizes.” Pause. “And I bet you can steal the hat off his head.”

“I guess I’ll give it a shot.” He looked around at the crowded training center. “What’s your plan for killing the witnesses?”

Oh, I liked him. I laughed. “You assume anyone’s even going to see it. Just stalk him while I lead him on.” I winked.

“You have a problem with that eye. You might want to get it checked out at some point.” And he sounded completely serious. He left to go hide and get ready to steal. I snorted. Perfect. Time to get started.

I ran up in the fakest run I could muster, and I stopped in front of Steve and pretended to be out of breath. After I “caught my breath”, I finally spoke. “Sir, I need your help. You’re the only one who can help.”

He looked me up and down and smirked. Never underestimate the power of the pretend sexy. “What do you need?”

“I-I have no idea how to shoot a gun, but I’m embarrassed about the idea of someone seeing me. Could we go somewhere…more private? I can tell how helpful you are, walking among the tributes. Please.” He smirked wider and let me lead him down the hallway that led to a smaller, locked training area. And he didn’t even question how I knew about this.

He just unlocked it for me, and I leaned against the door with a sexy wiggle of my eyebrows to keep his attention on me as Atwater snuck in. I laughed. “So, would I be able to try your gun?”

He laughed and walked toward me, looking like he certainly wasn’t thinking about showing me how to shoot, but I slipped toward him and snatched his gun before he could get too close. Atwater had stolen something as he slipped through the door. I held the gun backwards and held a stupid pose. “Is this how you hold it?”

He walked toward me again and almost put his arms around me to show me how to hold it (sure), but I interrupted, cocking my head as I stared at the gun. “Wait, actually, did I say gun? I meant bows and arrows. Crap. I’m sorry. Do you have any of that here? Or should we go find some?” He stared at me and opened his mouth a few times without saying anything. Good.

But he started walking again, and I stayed close to him as Atwater snuck forward again, looking like he was about to grab something. I batted my eyeslashes at him to keep him distracted, but then as we were walking through the door, Atwater slipped and was about to fall, and I spoke up to cover it.

“Yeah, guns are so boring. Bows and arrows just scream protagonist, don’t you think?” Volt had appeared out of nowhere, now holding the Peacekeeper’s gun and keeping Atwater from falling. Aw. She did care. “But then I think that knives might suit me better. What do you think?”

He laughed. This dude was a dumbass. “Maybe hand-to-hand? I could teach you.”

Sure you could. You probably suck at fighting. I laughed. “What? But not having a weapon is boring. Let’s go check out the knives!” Now Volt was sneaking after us too. Awesome!

When we got back to the main training area, he started walking over to the knives, but I gasped and grabbed his arm (he was so dumb that he didn’t even complain), pointing over to the flails. I grinned. “I’ve got to try those! I bet you know all about them! I want to see your moves.” He let me drag him along as everyone else pointedly ignored us. But he looked a little more nervous. He probably didn’t know anything about flails.

Atwater slipped forward again, so I kept leading him to the flails, and I picked one up, pretending like it was heavier than it actually was. I laughed. “Wow, this is so heavy! Could you show me how it’s done?”

I had to stop myself from laughing when Atwater slipped Steve’s hat off his head without him noticing. Brilliant! After Atwater had slipped away, I finally handed the flail to Steve, and he tried to brandish it while he stumbled. Not very impressive.

“Fisker!” I suppressed a laugh as his commanding officer stomped up and tore the flail from his hands, showing off a much better knowledge of flails than Steve. “What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t be touching the weapons, especially when you clearly have no idea how to use them!”

He stuttered and glanced over at me, but I just gave the commanding officer an innocent smile. “Do I have to stay around here? I’m just a clueless tribute, and this Peacekeeper decided to cut in front of me when I was trying to practice.”

He nodded as I could feel Steve’s eyes burning holes into me. “Of course. Continue training.” He turned back to Steve as I walked off. “And where is the rest of your uniform, Fisker? Leave right now, and I better not see you without your hat or gun again!”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing once I was out of sight, and I finally caught up with Volt and Atwater in a secluded corner. I grinned at them. “Now, that was awesome! You just lifted his hat off his head, and he didn’t even notice! Highlight of my week!”

Atwater offered the hat. “Would you like it?”

I took it, turned it inside out so it wasn’t so easily recognizable, and put it on my head. “Why not? It’s not like he can admit that a little nobody from District 10 got the better of him. Thanks for that. I needed to cause some mischief.” I turned over to Volt and her newly acquired gun. “And thanks for your help. I thought you would just roll your eyes if you heard my proposal.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.” She shook her head. “You could have been in a world of trouble if that Peacekeeper had any idea what he was doing.”

I winked. “That’s why I made sure to pick the stupidest one out there.”

“And by what metric did you pick your accomplices?” Atwater muttered.

“The smartest ones, of course!”

“I’ll suspend my belief on that for now.” Volt turned to glance at Hugo, turning some ammunition over in her hand. “Good work, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, for the most part, anyway. Thanks for saving my ass,” he grumbled. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t mention it.” She tucked the gun and ammunition away. “Nothing ever goes off without a hitch anyway. Just don’t get cocky.” She eyed me too. “Both of you.”

I smiled innocently. “When could I ever get cocky?” Obvious sarcasm. “Anyway, we make a great team! So, we should stick together.”

“Joy,” Atwater said flatly.

Rude. I snorted. “C’mon, I’m not that awful, am I?”

“Doesn’t matter. As a teenage boy, I’m contractually obligated to not like people as much as possible.” He paused for a while. “That means no.”

Yay! Bonding! I grinned. “Then we’ll certainly find each other in the arena.” I held out my hand for a handshake.

Volt didn’t agree with the handshake. “Not making any promises, but we’ll see.”

Hugo did agree with the handshake! “I am going to start charging you by the handshake.”

I laughed. “That’s good enough for me.” I headed off on a somewhat high note. At least I had been able to take my mind off the plan for a little bit, and I had (kind of?) made friends!

*

The night before the interview, I couldn’t sleep. Even distracting myself during training today hadn’t helped in the long run, but I had made some friends. I was just feeling stressed out.

I shot up when I heard noises from the room beside me. Nesri was there, and it sounded like she was crying. Shit. She must have had a nightmare again.

I snuck out of my room and carefully opened Nesri’s door. Her head popped up from where she was sitting, and she scrambled for her pillow, where she kept a knife. I closed the door quickly and held up my hands as she pointed her knife at me. “It’s just me, Nesri.”

She sucked in a breath and nodded, lowering her knife. “I’m fine. You don’t need to bother with me.”

“Sure.” I walked forward, and she didn’t tense. That was a good sign. “Was it a nightmare?” She nodded, and I got close enough to take her free hand in mine. “You don’t need to be alone right now. I can sleep next to you, if that will make you feel better.”

She looked up at me, scrutinizing eyes staring into mine. After a pause, she nodded. “That would be nice.”

We settled into bed together, and I wrapped my arms around her. She tensed for a little bit, but then she relaxed, and it only took a few minutes for her to fall asleep. I just closed my eyes. I wouldn’t be able to sleep.

What was I going to do? How could I keep her safe from being taken when I was in the arena? Would I see her again, or would the Shades take her? Was I dooming her by going into the arena?

Before I could spiral too much, however, the elevator door closed quietly, but not quietly enough to hear through the paper thin walls. Luckily, the escort hadn’t been awake the first night when I had stolen from him. I frowned and got up, and Nesri jumped awake.

She stared at me. “What is it?”

“The elevator closed.” She flinched, and her breathing quickened. “I’m going to check it out. Don’t leave.”

I slipped out of Nesri’s room to see Spectra arguing with Churi, the Shade that had tormented Nesri the most. Shit. He had long, silver hair pulled back in a ponytail and bright red eyes. He looked over at me as I walked up, forcing myself to look as confident as I could.

Spectra frowned at me. “You should be resting. Tomorrow is a big day.”

I smiled as pleasantly as I could at Churi, though I couldn’t promise there wasn’t a little bit of darkness there too. “It’s a little hard when someone decides to interrupt our sleep overnight. Is there anything I can help you with?” I would gladly strangle you if that would do any good.

He smirked back at me. “You should listen to your escort and go back to sleep.” He had that slimy, oily kind of voice that made me want to punch him in the face, if that would do any good.

I crossed my arms. “No, I think I’m entitled to know why someone has disrupted my sleep. Please, continue. Pretend I’m not here.”

He turned on me even more, looking me up and down. “I guess I could let you know. It’s not like you can change my mind. I’m here to bring your mentor to a separate building to have a chat with her.”

Shit. He was planning on taking her now. I puffed up. “No! I need her! You can’t take her. You’ll be interfering with the Capitol’s precious Hunger Games. I can’t imagine that they’ll be happy with that. I still need to discuss my strategy.”

He laughed. “I think they would excuse that. Didn’t you say that you were going to win when you volunteered? Where did that confidence go?”

I unconsciously grasped my necklace as I glared at him. “Confidence comes when you’ve prepared. I had prepared as well as I could before the Games, but there are still preparations I need to do now.”

His eyes flickered down to my necklace, and he frowned. Double shit. He cocked his head and held up my necklace to examine it closer. A tiny red crystal heart. He smirked. “That’s a lovely necklace. I’m sure you treasure it.” I swallowed hard as he turned to Spectra. “This one’s arguments have changed my mind. I will be back in the future to have a chat with Nesri.” He nodded at me, and he left in the elevator.

Spectra frowned over at me, but I just turned away and walked back into Nesri’s room. I didn’t want her to ask any questions. Nesri looked up from where she was sitting hunched on the bed. “What happened?”

I forced a smile. “I scared him off. He’s not going to take you.”

Nesri sighed and lay back down. I wrapped my arms around her again, but I certainly wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Churi probably suspected my secret. And that wasn’t good.

[shadowhuntertrash]

hello! im really mad at myself for not taking time out to talk with a fellow fanfic writer such as yourself, but could you please do a fic with matthew and cordelia (platonic) discussing Cordelia's situation with Elias? thank you 💜

This was forever ago and I'm so sorry <33

Cordelia desperately needed someone to talk to but had no one to go to. She was extremely stressed out about Elias coming home and normally she would talk to Lucie about these things but she seemed to conveniently disappear every time Cordelia blinked.

  She couldn’t go to her mother or her brother as they were both stressing over the same thing and they both also had other things on their minds. She couldn’t talk to James, not that they were ever close enough for him to be a real option but he’d been distant ever since their engagement and oftentimes only saw her when they went out in public together.

   So really Cordelia had planned to just keep it bottled up since she really knew no one else to go to. She had briefly thought about Anna but she didn’t seem the type to take things seriously, not to mention Cordelia was fairly certain there was some tension between Anna and Ariadne that she wasn’t supposed to know about.

   Cordelia couldn’t help but be relieved when Matthew cornered her one day and had announced that they were going to Devil’s Tavern. It was a nice distraction and Matthew and herself had been getting rather close so she hadn’t minded it though she knew she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere or be left alone with any man that wasn’t James.

   Matthew had surprised her when he walked straight past the bar and towards their room instead of getting whiskey or wine of some sort. Matthew lit the fire and sat on the floor, his back against the fireplace as his eyes lingered over her curiously. Cordelia took a seat on the couch that was facing the warmth the fireplace was now giving off.

   “Is something wrong?” Cordelia asked, shifting slightly to rearrange her dress beneath her. Matthew shook his head, his blonde curls bobbing slightly. “No, I just figured you could use someone to talk to.” Cordelia frowned at her hands and wondered briefly if she had truly been that obvious.

   “It wasn’t obvious,” Matthew said quietly as if he could read her mind. “I am just well acquainted with that feeling and everything’s been so crazy I know you haven’t gotten to talk about much and it’s clear to me at least that something’s wrong.” Cordelia bit her lip and felt a wave of appreciation roll over her.

   No one ever realized that Matthew was the mother hen of the group. He cared about his friends deeply and was there whether they knew they needed him or not. Most people thought it was Thomas who took care of them all and while he was also always watching out for his friends, he tended to be rather distracted these days. No one could blame him for being distracted after all he’d been through though.

   Cordelia smiled softly at Matthew. “Ever the mother hen, you are. It’s absurd.” She said, wondering why she was deflecting when she’d been wanting to talk to someone for so long. Matthew scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not the mother hen I’m the father rooster.” The playfulness left his face and his eyes narrowed at Cordelia as if he were trying to see her soul.

   “What’s wrong, Delia?” Cordelia let out a little sigh at the name. Since they had become friends he’d never called her Daisy because it had always been James’s name for her and it felt weird so he had come up with his own.

   Cordelia bit her lip and frowned, relaxing into the couch. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just anxious for my father’s return. Knowing what I know now I truly wish I hadn’t tried so hard to get him back. Does that make me a bad person?” Cordelia asked, her eyes seeking Matthew’s green ones that she knew would be full of reassurances.

   As expected, Matthew’s eyes were reassuring as he shook his head firmly. “No, it doesn’t. I’d have to say if I were in your situation I’d probably be feeling very similar.” Matthew scooted from where he had been resting against the wall to situate himself on the floor in front of her.

   Matthew took her hands gently. “I can tell there’s more going on than that. If you want to talk about it it’s fine I’ll listen and if not that’s okay too it’s your call. I’m here if you need me, to listen or distract s up to you.” Cordelia smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

  “Thank you.” She said quietly as Matthew wrapped his arms around her to return the hug. “Always.” Cordelia pulled away and her hand went to Matthew’s hair absentmindedly when he rested his chin on her knee. 

   Cordelia let out a sigh before she began. “I’ve always seen my father as a good person, a good father, but now things have been brought to my attention and I can’t help but look back and see that all those times were falsely remembered.” Cordelia frowned and Matthew grabbed her free hand encouragingly. 

   “I used to think he was sick, that’s what Alastair told me anyway. He wasn’t, he never was, he just had a problem with alcohol. He could drink it like water and then be sick and have a lapse of memory.” Cordelia bit her lip, now feeling rather bad for having this conversation with Matthew, but Matthew as if reading her mind again shook his head. 

   “Keep going.” He said gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Did you know that the reason he was on trial was that he was so drunk he genuinely couldn’t remember what happened. It’s why the Mortal Sword didn’t work on him when it asked him questions.” Matthew’s eyebrows furrowed together in distaste. 

   Cordelia knew Matthew was a drunk as well but he almost never got blackout drunk. “I’m just- Really I’m worried about Alastair.” Cordelia almost expected Matthew to scoff or dismiss the subject since he was quite adverse to her brother, but he almost looked concerned.

   “Why?” He asked quietly, his chin lifted off her knee so he could look her in the eye better. “He and my father don’t have the best relationship to put it lightly. Alastair grew up protecting me and my mother and it wasn’t always an exchange of words.” She said carefully, not wanting to say it aloud.

  Matthew seemed to have understood if the dark look in his eyes was anything to go off of. “Has he ever hurt you?” He asked darkly. Cordelia was torn between wanting to yell at him for suggesting such a thing and thanking him for being protective. “No, he hasn’t ever hurt me or my mother but there have been many occasions where Alastair has dealt with it.”

   Matthew frowned and looked down, Cordelia could practically hear him thinking. “I know I have never liked your brother but I wish that hadn’t happened. I hope you know that if that ever happens again or if he turns on you or your mother that we will all be here for you. All of us. Your family could stay at the Institute if something were to happen so all I can say right now is that we’ve got your back. Not just if something happens but we’re here to listen too. That’s a lot to go through, but I hope you know how strong it makes you to have gone through all that and come out the person you are, Cordelia.”

   Cordelia felt the anxiety that had knotted in her stomach loosen some. Matthew was right, she did have many people who were there if things went wrong. It wouldn’t do any good to stress about it and she knew that Alastair would never accept their help but she would ask them in a heartbeat.

   Cordelia leaned down and hugged Matthew again. “Thank you. It means a lot and just thank you. For being there and willing to listen.” Matthew laughed softly against her. “Of course.” He whispered. 

   For the first time in a long time, Cordelia felt like everything might just be okay.

[datenoriko]

Wondering if I could request some reactionary Headcanons for the warlords where MC is a highly trained and skillful forensic scientist?

I’m so sorry this is waaaay overdue and writing-wise is still unsure of the style... I hope this one’s okay though~ TnT

p.s. I tried adding Kennyo & Motonari too, but brain won’t let me ><

p.s.s. Updated masterlist for my random shenanigans here!

*Every one of them thought MC would be scared of a dead body and multitudes of it on the battlefield and beyond it but...

ODA FORCES

Nobunaga

- “Huh, this fireball’s not afraid of the dead?” // “I examine them for a living.” Visibly impressed, a devilish smirk forms on his lips

- The Devil King is fascinated by you actively asking to take her to battles to study the bodies

- “Look at this! With that deep slice on his jugular vein, no wonder he’ll die pretty quickly due to all that blood loss.” // “On his what?” // “T-the blood vessel found on the neck, my lord.” // *is confused*

- Nobunaga considers this carefully and commissions the armour makers to improve their designs, and/or trade for more sturdy materials with the Portuguese (you know… aside trading for konpeito :3)

- Lets you examine more specimens to determine all possible deaths in battle, and then have it discussed at the next council. It’s a great help for them in terms of preparation & strategizing. After all, prevention and preparation is still much better!

Hideyoshi

- A worried mother hen as always, all he wanted is for you to stay away from the worst sights possible and definitely not going straight towards them! “What do I keep telling you?” // “Uh, stay away from the corpses…?”

- Just like how his lord would sneak away to have konpeito, you also tend to get around stealthily just to study “them”

- Being a highly observation person due to your work, you even know which wooden floor in Azuchi will make a creaking sound and by instinct you will avoid it

- But Mamayoshi is just as observant as you are, and he caught you one night

- “I know you were once this ‘forensic expert’ from where you came from, but you are a princess now and must behave like one!” Legend has it that the lecture continues...  

Mitsuhide

- Ah, he loves asking for your suggestions on how to get away with murder treason!

- I mean, he’s surely an expert but an additional piece of advice his little mouse wouldn’t hurt, right?

- “This place’s almost clean, I’d say.” // “’Almost’, little mouse? It scares me so that you have trained eyes for such matters. // “Is that a compliment? Anyway, I saw a strand of hair near the sliding door... and its color is much similar to yours. Care to explain?”

- Now he’s more careful than ever to leave any trace, knowing you can find him even with the smallest of clues

- The tables have turned for him after such a long time of being a sneaky fox

Masamune

- Oh boy, make sure you won’t overwork yourself by being with this man, being a battle-loving man that he is (meaning, more bodies and scenes to check out)

- At the same time, he finds it amusing that you proactively ask him to take you to his trips, campaigns and whatnots

- “It really is fun having you around, lass! Or should I say ‘partner’?” // “Damn straight, partner… now, let’s solve this case!” Cat-like grin commences for you two

- He sees you having fun hanging out at the scouts’ camp, chatting about experiences in the battlefield. your eyes would glimmer the more explicit they describe it. Creepy? Maybe a little, but at least he sees you happy about it… right?

- The One-Eyed Dragon will find this unusual, sure, but it certainly makes him want to know you more

Ieyasu

- Did he care at first? No, not really. He just wanted no involvement at first and to be left on his room alone, reading or eating extra-spicy food

- However, Yatsun gets curious when he finds you taking a peek at his medicinal work on a man he is a bit late to save :(

- “What are you doing here? You better not get in the way.” // “Oh no, poor man though… what’s the cause?” // “I am yet to find that out, if you’ll excuse me,---” // “Can I take a look?”

- He tries to pry you away from the room but being already in and touching the body leaves him no choice but to keep a close eye on you, making sure you’re not doing anything daft.

- “Huh, not bad.” Ieyasu says as you were able to identify the cause of death, deep inside he’s amazed of course. Later on he would let you join him in his post-mortem activities if the schedule allows to, but still keeping an eye on you to prevent any mishaps from happening

Mitsunari

- “Wow, MC-sama is unfazed as we all are in the battlefield! You truly are an amazing woman.” Did you see that sunny smile on his face as he says it???

- Your logical explanation as to identifying one’s death baffles the force’s cinnamon roll (because of the jargon used), otherwise it fascinates him

- Well, he’s never seen a woman who’s into dead bodies work-wise!

- Like some other warlords, he would ask you for advice when making strategies for the next battle

- When you went to his room one time to borrow a book, the first thing you said was “Am I in a crime scene?” when seeing piles of books around, untouched food and seeing a man unmoved in the middle of the room, reading and not even sensing your presence. “Ah no, just a normal room. I see.”

Ranmaru

- While in an errand, he sees you one day looking at a dead body about to be taken away. He is worried that the view might traumatize you for life… in the back of his mind he already has a plan to take you to a sweets shop and let you gorge in manjuu for the rest of the day

- “MC-sama, are you alright? You look shocked.” // “Yeah, I mean it looks to me that someone killed him when everybody says the opposite! I wanted to look into this so badly…” // “My apologies, but… what?”

- Of course it is never the answer he expected, but when you plead to help him solve it, this page is more than willing to do so

- Now both of you are going around the town looking for clues and asking who you think are involved; partners-in-crime!

- You did get to gorge on manjuu (and tea, lots of it) with Ranmaru when the case is solved!

UESUGI-TAKEDA FORCES

Kenshin

- Oh boy, make sure you won’t overwork yourself by being with this man, being a battle-loving man that he is pt.2

- “How dare you try to even speak with MC; draw your swords. Now.” // “Kenshin-sama, even if I’m used to seeing the deceased, please don’t do that. You’re scaring your own men!”

- He has little to no problem in taking her along to the battlefield, too! One more way to keep her in sight at all times

- Sometimes when you two are drinking and think he had too much you just had to stop him, to his slight annoyance. You have seen many deaths due to alcohol poisoning and definitely wouldn’t want him to be in the list… Bunshin Lord Kenshin appreciates the thought though

- Like Nobunaga, he allows you to do some research on the dead bodies, anything useful for the ongoing war

Shingen

- How can an angel such as you be associated with death and decay? He thinks

- But this daddy needs to accept the fact that you are quite comfortable around such! However once your investigation takes a scary turn expect him to nearby, comforting you with soothing words, or a hug… or eating sweet buns as many as you’d like to calm yourself down

- At first he is reluctant to let you get near the deceased, however whenever he sees your expression light up whenever he makes a cheesy comment (albeit in a rather awkward place) he thought of going along with it

- “Hm, this job of yours is unfitting in every way.” // “Oh yeah? How so?” // “You are brimming with life that I do think you are a goddess who descended upon us men.” // “Ah, here we go again…”

- You have to admit, his presence help you keep your sanity as you used to work alone for long periods of time

Yukimura

- “I thought you might be running away now once you see these.” // “As if they’ll chase me! Unless… are they still alive?” // “Weird woman…”

- This tsun does admire how brave you are after even making such joke

- Along with Sasuke, you three are pretty much effective when doing some investigation at the enemy’s base with you giving them (modern) tips of not getting caught. Unusual hiding spots? Hidden weapons? Suspicious people? All checked and cleared! 

- He has been doing that for a long while now, but hearing your strange ideas do sound plausible… especially when ninja friend is highly approving it

- If Sasuke trusts you, he surely starts to trust you (and your skills) too

Sasuke

- Once again, be paired up with Yuki and you three would make a great investigation/espionage team

- When investigating, you and memelord ninja are speaking to each other in partly jargon, partly heavily-memed language

- Possibly having watched and/or read crimes shows or movie you two are getting along so well

- “So here’s our undercover story: husband, wife and husband’s best friend---” // “Wait, do we get cool names too?!” // “Yeah, I’ll get to that part later… or I’ll do it now. Miyako, Tsune and Chozaburo; sounds cool?” // “Noice.”

- As the conversation continues, Yuki is left by himself to wonder how on earth did he get friends like you, shaking his head lightly as your talk no longer makes sense to him

Yoshimoto

- This beautiful mailman sees you one day sketching and as a man of the arts he comes over to look at what you’re drawing

- What he sees is a detailed sketch of a man, possibly a random person. The facial structure, features are all spot on! He is in full admiration mode

- “My, such a lovely piece you are making there. Has someone commissioned you to make him a portrait?” // “Actually Yoshimoto-san, I am making this to be posted around town. A wanted poster of some sorts… he’s a criminal.”

- You explained to him your job as a forensic artist, and he listens to every single word of it. Yoshimoto would find himself asking about your style of sketching as you continue drawing

- When the posters are up he is one of those people who would look at it for a long time; for him it’s not for memorizing the perp’s face, but simply to appreciate the art, fanning himself ever so gracefully

[simply-ellas-stuff]

My thoughts on Zack Snyder's Justice League because I watched it

The opening sequence, bc even tho the repeated scream audio was stuipid this opening was better

The new meeting between batman and Aquaman - that drawing on the wall in the og was unnecessary

Diana's extra badassery

The design of Stephen Wolf, because now he actually looks scaryish

The Queens emotions about losing her sisters of Themyscira - QUEENS DON'T JUST SEND THEIR PEOPLE INTO BATTLE EMOTIONLESSLY THESE SCENES WERE NEEDED - FUCK

THE BIGGER WITH IN THEMYSCIRA WHY THE FUCK DID THEY CUT THAT OUT?! - oh right, its because the previous director is sexist as fuck,

Stephen Wolf's Daddy Issues because that's fucking hilarious

Bruce explaining his want to find everyone bc of his promise

The close up on the fly things because that actually made it scary

THE FUCKING LIGHTING CEREMONY IN THEMESCERIA HOLY MOTHER FUCKING SHIT

Diana's extra badassery after getting the Arrow because WHY THE FUCK WAS THAT CUT?! This explains SO MUCH about how Diana knows SO MUCH about a time she wasn't alive in and I have NO FUCKING CLUE why it was cut!?

Arthur Curry is a Stripper - Confirmed!

Arthur and his trainer talking, but idfk why they kept the bubble thing Although I do like that they clarify that it's not just Mera who can do that bubble thingy

The scene between Stephen Wolf and the stone-wall dude person was cool and it explained why Stephen Wolf was so desperate

Zeus, Ares, and Artemis prepped for battle along with Poseidon in the flashback was FUCKING AWESOME!!! Diana's Aunt as well, the shows of the Green Lanterns, and the ring returning to the planet [Although they should've named Artemis, bc she can easily be mistaken for Athena - Also; Artemis' roman equivalent in the goddess Diana ]

Darkseid being in the flashback, which explains a lot

The Gods vs Darkseid was FUCKING AWESOME

Barry's awkward rambling after running into Iris

ALSO IRIS FUCKING WEST!!!

The Big Belly Burger Reference, nicely done

My dad says Iris' car is beautiful

BARRY SAVED IRIS BITCHES

The slow-mo crash gave me anxiety

My dad says, "I know you got all the time in the world but c'mon this is ridiculous" about that scene then "That beautiful car..."

THE SCENE WITH STEPHEN WOLF AND THE ALTLANTIAN MAKES EVERYTHING MAKE SO MUCH MORE SENSE BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK DID STEPHEN WOLF KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE MOTHER BOX IN ATLANTIS

Do. Not. Make. Diana. And. Bruce. Romantic. Don't. Fucking. Do. It.

The use of slow-mo is kind of redundant

Victor being fucking AMAZING even tho he's getting in trouble at school

Victor and Mama's discussion gives some life to the 2-Dlike Cyborg from the og movie, WHY THE FUCK WAS IT CUT?!

Victor's inner-world where he's still fully human

Barry being sarcastic as fuck towards his father lmfao

"Very attractive Jewish boy"

The reference to Grodd YAAAAAAAS

I still hate that Barry's lightning is blue and not red

The explanation of the Speedforce and Snacks

"What are your super powers again?" "I'm Rich" Still one of the best lines

I love Diana's shirt in the scene with Alfred

"Looks like you have a date, Ms. Prince" lmfao - Unless his name is Steve, I doubt it

I feel like Victor and Diana would be a good brother/sister duo, ngl

Burying the fucking box at your mothers grave was the stupidest shit I have ever fucking seen Victor.

COMMISIONER GORDON HELL YES

Barry's utter fail at being normal around Diana

The underwater click-like dolphin speak was cool, but still kinda dumb knowing that later Aquaman speaks underwater just fine - ngl

Nice Liquidkinetics, Mera. Amber you're still a cunt.

Also, Mera says her parents died - Wasn't her father alive in Aquaman??

Victor seeing the bat-signal explains how he knew how to find them, honest

The badass entry of Bruce, Diana, and Barry makes me laugh

Barry is far too close to Bruce

Victor scared Barry LMFAOOOO

If Victor's father is the head of STAR Labs where the fuck is Harrison Wells?????

THEY LEFT BARRY BEHIND, ASSHOLES

Diana's annoyance at Barry running ahead is such a Mom thing

Stephen using the bug thing makes SO MUCH MORE SENSE

Diana trying to make a plan and it getting ruined fits with the exasperated Mom theme she's got going on.

THE SONG HEN DIANA GOES AGAINST STEPHEN WOLF, THE FUCKING VOCALS ALONG MAKE ME HYPE AS SHIIIIIIIIT

"I Belong To No One" I FUCKING LOVE IT

HEEEEEEEEELL of a push Barry lmfaooo

"Thank you Alfred" "Don't mention it" Mans is bored of your shit

"Sword Lady" LMFAOOOOOOO

Diana's x-move thing against Stephen Wolf YAAAAAAAAS BITCH

Diana saving Barry's ass - Accurate!

Victor taking over the Crawler makes more sense this way, honest

OKAY YOU AN ACTUALLY SEE AQUAMAN IN THE WATER AND IT MAKES IT MAKE SO MUCH MORE SENSE

That jump onto the crawler was smooth as fuck Diana!

Stephen Wolf getting visions from the boxes also explains a lot about some shit

"I know the requirements, I wrote them" Suuuuuuubtle lmfaoo

Victor brining the box them also fits better

Why is this Stone looking mother fucker speaking Latin?

Hello Darkseid, you look particularly dramatic this evening

Victor's explaining how he knows about the box makes a lot of sense, why was this cut again??

Actually explaining the fucking Mother Box was Helpful

Mrs. Kent and Lois having a heart to heart holy shiiiit

Martha talking about how Clark's death was drowned out by Superman's - wooow

WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH MARTHA'S EYES IS THAT J'ONN J'ONZZ?! THATS THE MARTIAN MANHUNTER HOLY FUCK IT'S J'ONN J'ONZZ

Ironic that Ezra-Flash's hero is Superman while Grant Gustin's hero is superman lmfao

Diana and Arthur chatting was cute, the quote was awesome and the Atlantians totally copped that quote from the Amazonians

Alfred being a sarcastic fuck is my favorite

Alfred being the voice of reason, as always

Arthur helping Barry pick a hat is AMAZING

Diana telling the boys to change, mom or big sister?? lmfaoo

Barry's social awkwardness gives me second hand embarrassment

This little infiltration arc makes SO MUCH more fucking sense

Every one being suited up and triggering the alarm is amazing

Mr. Stone fucking trusting his son is my faaaaaavorite

THE SUITS ACTIVATED AND CAME OUT WHEN CLARK WAS MOVED PAST THEM DUDE WTF

IS LOIS PREGNANT?!?!?!

Barry looks like he's about to throw up

BARRY HAS ALREADY TIME TRAVELLED THAT LINE SHOULDVE BEEN KEPT IN

Arthur being antsy about not doing the resurrection makes so much sense

VICTOR SEEING A POSSIBLE FUTURE IS THE BEST SHIT

I love vision-Diana's Norse burial

EVIL VISION-SUPERMAN DUDE CMON

THE MISUNDERSTANDING MAKES THIS WORSE AND BETTER AT THE SAME TIME

HE REVERSED TIME WHEN HE RESURRECTED SUPERMAN WHAAAAAAAAT

The Military arriving was a sensible addition

The fancy ass dramatic ass arrival of Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Flash, and Cyborg when Superman gets to the monument is hilarious

Victor loosing control is the woooooorst

The Lasso of Truth almost got through to him but he's a stubborn fuck

Superman functioning in Flashtime is something I will never understand

Yeah lets shoot at the guy whose indestructible, right

"you should probably move" LMFAOOOO

Batman v. Superman part 2 insert eye roll here

headbutts like children - and that's cheating on the playground Clark.

Heat vision makes so much more sense than "do you bleed?"

Lois coming in cluuuuutch

I like Lois' appearance better than Alfred bringing her, it fits Lois better

Arthur and Barry now have rivalry lmfaooo

Mr. Stone being obsessed with the mother box is annoying as fuck

Mr. Stone is an idiot and he should've fucking left the box alone

That was a horrible death why was that necessary?!

Arthur being a pessimist in this movie is honestly hilarious, tho why is he anti-love??

Barry being surprised at Batman's richness is never not funny

"I'll take that as a yes" okay Clark, don't show off

IS LOIS PREGNANT OR NOT?!

"Its really me Ma" Best scene of the whole fucking movie

Barry and Arthur heart-to -heart "I thought you didn't car" "I never said that" BUILD THIS FRIENDSHIP

BRUCE TELLS DIANA OF THE VISION

Bruce talking about faith never bodes well

THE QUEEN LOOKS BEAUTIFUL

"uh with the power of love" "Barry" LMFAOOOOOO

THE KRYPTONIAN SUITS LOOK AMAZING

Since when does Superman have Geokinesis??

I LOVE HOW BOTH OF HIS FATHERS ARE TALKING TO HIM I FUCKING LOVE IT

THE SUIT UP SCENE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME IT LOOKS AWESOME

"just have to knock a little louder" Well, that's one way to knock Bruce

Nice crash boy

Straight up sounded like "Loud and queer" lmfaoooo

Diana leading the teeeeeeeaaaam Hell Yes!

I do miss the "I think we're all gonna die" lasso-Arthur scene tho. it was stupid - but funny.

DIANA COMING IN FOR THAT SLICE AND DICE BAYBEEEEY

THE TEAM SHOOOOT YES totally taken from Marvel but fuck did it look good

"you really are out of your mind" says the idiot who talks to fish

"not done yet" vs "your welcome" I like the second one better

Glorious hair Arthur lmfaoo

Fucking chair eject

NICE SHISH-KA-BOB ARTHUR FUCK

Alfred doesn't even fucking blink when Clark arrives

ARTHURS TRIDENT DOES THE WAVY THING ON LAND TOO BROOOO

Oh yeah, step back for the demi-god princess

DONT PISS OFF DIANA AND DO NOT USE HER FAMILY TO FUCK WITH HER IT NEVER ENDS WELL

The familiar flash buildup power ring will never not make me happy

Daaaaaayum Diana!!

Nice catch Arthur

Diana knows her mother and sisters are alive bc they sent the arrow to her, so why is he even trying it??

NICE SAVE SUPERMAN!!

"Not impressed" Smooooooth

THAT FINAL BATTLE IS FUCKING AWESOME

TIME TRAVEL

BADASS DIANA WITH THAT DEPCAPITATION

You sent Today at 5:44 PM

Them all standing there was straight up "Fuck with us, I dare you"

The epilogue was great but that dream was confusing, are we doing Alt-universe shit??

MARTIAN MOTHER FUCKING MANHUNTER BITCHEEEEEEEEEEZZ

IS LOIS PREGNANT OR NOT?!

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Hitch

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 17 | Part 18 Hitch | Part 19 >

Disclaimer: sad fluff, some body insecurities

Author’s note: Can you tell it’s Monday? It’s Monday. Gosh I feel like I need a hug after writing this. 😭

Word count: 1.764

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

Do you ever look in the mirror, just to study the way you are slowly changing? I don’t want to say older. Just, changing. My eyes are practically always the same shade of brown, like milk chocolate, and my hair is often an equally chocolaty mess, pulled up in a bun. And I like it like that, too. 

And then there is my skin. Sometimes pale like porcelain, sometimes sun kissed with a hundred small freckles, dusted over my cheeks and nose. I don’t understand why people wouldn’t like their freckles by the way. I absolutely love mine. Unfortunately now that winter has come, I mostly look tired. Thank heavens for concealer!

I wonder by the way if men also look at themselves in the mirror like that. Especially since it’s generally far less accepted and normalised for them to wear make-up, even if it is just a simple concealer.

Anyways. It’s winter and I look like a walking, talking zombie, my once fresh looking skin now showing some mean little creases and fine lines. Admittedly, I do sometimes rub my skin with a little bit of extra cream when I see those lines. Not that I am willing to invest in those luxury treatments or get my panties in a twist, but still. It does, in some way or form, influence the way you feel about yourself.

I embrace change, but today? I am most definitely wearing make-up. Thank you very much.

Done-with-winter-already,

Ali

With the loudest of sighs I flung the refrigerator door closed, my shoulders slumping visibly as I plopped down on my chair at the dinner table, dinner long cleared away from the table but my parents still sitting there. 

My mom was the first to pick up on my sulking mood, her careful eyebrow raising up over her reading glasses as she put down her Swedish crossword, pen still in hand.

‘Looking for something?’ She asked casually.

‘No.’ I grumbled, looking over at dad who was still hiding himself behind a folded open newspaper. Mom sniffled and shook her head. ‘Then what is it, Ali dear?’

‘It’s just…’ My lip trembled - not even make-up could make me feel any better today. ‘..things are not working out like I want them to and..’ Sniff. ‘..it’s so frustrating.’

Slowly my dad lowered his newspaper. Usually it was my mom who dealt with any off-days on my end, which truly were sparingly. I didn’t really wish to share my troubles and thoughts with my parents too much, fearing they’d continue to see me as “their little girl”. I wasn’t a little girl for crying out loud. I was a grown woman of 37-years. I shouldn’t need my parents anymore, right?

‘Is this about eh..’ My dad started, squinting his eyes as if looking for any signs that I would go for his jugular right here and now. I didn’t. ‘..eh..Henry?’ He swallowed as I started to cry, shaking my head no.

Mom quickly moved aside her crossword and pen, reaching out her arms to smooth her warm palms over my shoulders. Even through the tight knit of my dark grey sweater I could feel the soothing calm of her touch. ‘What’s the matter baby? Tell us.’

‘UGH..it’s just.’ I sniffled and angrily wiped a few rogue tears away. ‘I..ugh..this feels so stupid. I just thought I had found a place of my own. I’ve been looking at some apartments..and..I thought I had found one. Ten minutes from here. Perfect. Finally. But..’ I furrowed my brows. ‘..I couldn’t get it. The owners chose someone else, despite me being first choice. I just got the news.’

Mom was quiet for a moment and dad swallowed harshly, the two of them deciding on how to go about it. I sniffled again and looked up. First at mom, then at dad, the both at them suddenly looking even older then I remembered them to be.

‘Oh..’ Mom finally exclaimed, seemingly relieved. ‘I thought it had to do with Henry. Woof! Thank god for that.’ She quickly pushed her chair closer to mine, wrapping a bony arm around my shoulder and pulling me in for a mom hug. ‘Come here.’ She hummed, squeezing me even tighter to her chest. ‘Hmmm! Well, you know you can stay here for as long as you want. We love having you here with us. Close to us. It gives our life a bit of…’ She leaned back and smiled, shrugging slightly. ‘..joie-de-vivre!’

I snickered, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘You could get a dog too, you know.’

‘Hahah oh we might, we might. We actually discussed it the other day. Would you like that, a dog?’ She asked at me, dad snuffing in amusement - either because he absolutely didn’t want a dog or because this whole shift of moods was amusing him.

Women.

‘That is yours to decide mom…dad.’ I gave him an exasperated look and he chuckled, quickly grabbing his newspaper again, hiding the cheeky grin that lingered on his lips.

‘But really, I am just glad that it’s not Henry. You and him are just such a fine couple together.’

‘Thanks mom.’ I smiled, wiping the last remains of my tears. I laughed. ‘I eh..actually confessed I love him the other day.’

‘OOOHHH.’ Mom near jumped with excitement and my dad quickly duck even further away behind his newspaper - he really felt uncomfortable with all this girl chat. Me and mom both grinned and before long we were deep in conversation about what had transpired between me and Henry the past few weeks. A talk that was long overdue honestly, because of course mom had HEARD  a gazillion things, but in her motherly role she had decided to wait for me to spill the beans.

Well. The beans were spilled. And I couldn’t be happier to hear how enthused and adoring my mom was about everything Henry concerned.

—

Henry carefully read the words on the screen of my phone, the both of us sitting on my parents couch, the rest of the house quiet as my parents were out. 

It was an e-mail I had received that afternoon. Bad news. Again. As if losing that house wasn’t enough, of course more shit had to happen. He slowly furrowed his brows as he licked his lips, scrolling back up - as if checking he didn’t miss anything in his careful read.

‘O..kay..’ He finally said slowly, sighing visibly. ‘Yea..’ I bit my lower lip and reached out for my phone, retrieving it from his hesitant fingers. ‘Are they even allowed to..’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘..make such a suggestion?’

‘I don’t know Hen. Ugh. What is it with this week?! I hate it. Two weeks ago it was all fine and now this? Please let it be over..’ I sulked, reopening the e-mail of the fertility clinic and giving it a once-over. Yep, there it was really in black and white; due to a rapidly growing waiting list they suggested that me and Henry would perhaps first check out “other means of fertilisation”, before enlisting for a sperm donor. Meaning, most probably and quite rudely; just forgo the condom and see where that takes you.

There went my plan B. My back-up plan. At least for another extra 6 months of extended waiting as they had simply pushed me back on the list now I had a “partner”. Could they do that? I don’t know, but it sure was a blow in the gut.

‘What would you do in this situation, Hen?’ I asked quietly, seeing him shift his weight to turn towards me. ‘Well, believe it or not. I think this is my situation too now.’ He swallowed and reached out for my hand, tentative fingertips stroking my palm.

‘True.’ I smiled with watery eyes.

We were after all a team now. Together. Boyfriend and girlfriend.

‘I eh..’ He shook his head. ‘Okay this is going to sound so stupid now, but I want to get it off my chest. Before I did the Durrell challenge, just really a few weeks before, I had a chat with a..’ He sighed. ‘..a woman who would wish to surrogate a ..-’

‘WHAT?!’ I sat up a bit and swatted his hand away.

‘No no..Ali. It..nothing happened. I just..’ He swallowed awkwardly. ‘I guess I just started my very own path in trying to become a father. It’s a thing that’s been on my mind for a long time now. I want it. Though it immediately became clear after that conversation with that woman that I could not do it like that.’ His eyes searched mine, hoping I would not hate him for it, understand him.

I sighed. ’Gosh..I thought you were going to say you had like a kid on the way and..-’

‘Ali.’ He grabbed my wrist and looked me even deeper in the eyes. ‘There is nobody else. There is no kid on the way. It’s just you and I.’ - ‘Okay.’ I quietly nodded and swam through the depths of his stormy blue eyes. I near drowned in them. 

‘So, you want to be a dad, hmm?’ A tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it and Henry’s eyes instantly tracked it as it moved over my cold skin. With a tender finger he brushed it off, his lips curling in a sad smile. ‘Badly.’ He swallowed harshly.

He suddenly looked so fragile, like I could see right through those big bulking muscles and handsome features and see within, see the most deep and hidden away piece of Henry that I had ever gotten to see. 

With pensive blue eyes he was looking down, his hand re-interlocking with mine, his other hand now aimlessly hanging by his waist. He looked a bit forlorn, lost at the sea that I had found in his cerulean gaze.

The sea that was Henry. Sometimes calm and soothing, something strong and unbending. 

A sea that wanted what I wanted. Badly. 

Without words I crawled over to him, using whatever strength I had to pull him into my chest, his head resting in the crook of my neck and his breath slightly shallow. He was such a large man that it was hard to actually make him surrender and lean into me. Usually he was the one who was to protect and be strong. Now it was the other way around. Sighing harshly he finally gave in, his nose sniffing as his arms slowly folded around my waist.

‘All I learned is that I don’t want to do it alone.’ He finally gulped, softly.

I closed my eyes and let a hand roam over the soft material of his sand coloured cable knit sweater. Poor bear. My poor bear. I nodded.

‘Neither do I, Hen. Neither do I.’ I pushed my nose in his neck and whispered into his skin: ‘And I think you are going to be an absolutely great dad.’

He swallowed back a cry.

‘In fact I KNOW it is so.’ I smiled, pressing up a number of kisses on his skin until I reached his lips. ‘And all other things are just a hitch, a hiccup. What I really, really need.. is.. you. Let’s..let’s make this work.’ I sniffled. 

--

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[tripleaxeldiaz]

all was golden when the day met the night

chapter 3/5

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“...and then we saw the lions, but they were sleeping so they weren’t very scary. And the otters were so cute, and they came right up to the glass when they were swimming underwater!”

Eddie smiles as Chris recounts their day at the zoo to his parents over FaceTime. The monthly calls had been their idea, a way for them to stay up to date on Chris’s life in between holidays and summer visits. It was also their way of having a scheduled time to nitpick Eddie’s life from 800 miles away.

He loves his parents, he does. He just loves them more when they aren’t speaking.

“Your face looks a little red, sweetheart, were you wearing sunscreen today?” his mother asks, face getting too close to the camera as she inspects her grandson.

“Yeah, Dad put some on me when we got there.”

“Did he put on any more during the day?” Her eyes shifted to Eddie, perched next to Chris on the couch. “You know you need to reapply every two—”

“Yes, Mom, I did. And it’s getting late so we should really get going, say goodbye buddy—”

“Wait! I didn’t show them my snakes!” Chris rifles through his backpack underneath the coffee table, yanking out a folder and flipping through it until he finds the drawings he and Buck worked on. He holds them up triumphantly, angling them so his grandparents could see. “Buck helped me with them!”

“And Buck is…”

“Dad, you know who Buck is. My friend that owns the tattoo shop?” He tries not to ignore how calling Buck his “friend” feels like a disservice to all that he really is, how it tastes like sand in his mouth.

“He’s an awesome artist,” Chris pipes in. “He has huge books in the shop of all the stuff he can do, and sometimes he lets me watch when he’s working!”

His parents blanche at that, and Eddie is really not prepared to have this argument right now. He and Chris had a great day together, a rare day when he wasn’t in the shop for any reason, leaving it in Hen’s more than capable hands. They had a lot of fun at the zoo, were getting ready for a Marvel double feature in their living room, and Eddie was in an honest-to-god good mood, for once not plagued by lingering stress or ambiguous sadness. He’s not about to let any outside judgements ruin that.

“I think it’s time to go. Chris, can you say goodnight and go get your pajamas on?” Chris waves as he grabs his crutches and heads to his room. Eddie turns back to say a quick goodbye, but his dad clears his throat before he can speak.

“You leave your son alone in a tattoo parlor?”

“He’s not alone, Dad, he’s with Buck and all the other adults that work there. Plus it’s only in a pinch.”

“Eddie, do you really think those are the kind of people you should be leaving Christopher with?” his mother asks, a look of contempt masked by concern on her face.

Eddie takes a slow breath in and out through his nose. No use in giving them more ammo by getting angry. “Just because you don’t like their business doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“We just want to make sure Christopher is—”

“He’s fine. He’s happy when he’s learning to draw with Buck. I’m not going to take that away from him just because you don’t like it. Now we have to go, we’ll talk to you later.” He hits the red end button before they can protest any further. He tips his head back to rest on the couch and scrubs a hand over his face, his good mood now tinged with prickly frustration.

He thinks his parents mean well, but they’ve always been forceful when it comes to Chris, especially after Shannon left. It’s like they knew, somehow, how lost Eddie was on his own, how scared he was that every little thing he did was setting Chris up for failure, and took every opportunity to fix something he was doing or tell him he was wrong. That he didn’t actually know what Chris needed since he had been gone for so long. 

Eventually, Eddie started believing them.

But when Mrs. Negrelli gave him the money to start his own shop, he didn’t just see it as a fresh start for himself, but for Chris too. Eddie would be able to take them anywhere, away from the looming disappointment of his parents, and give himself the opportunity to figure out how to best be the dad that Chris needed. And if the past year is any indication, he knows he made the right choice, a credit he isn’t usually able to give himself. He’s not perfect, still second guesses himself constantly, but Chris gets invited to birthday parties and sleepovers and gets As on his report card, so something must be working.

Chris comes back from his room, Spider-Man pajamas on, handing Eddie the remote to queue up the first movie. He’s happily chattering about all the cool things Spider-Man’s costume does in the movie, and as he settles into Eddies’s side, head resting on his chest, Eddie feels the prickliness subside, replaced by the contentment he only ever feels around his son.

They’re good here. Chris is happy here. That’s all that matters to Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sundays are Eddie’s favorite days in the shop — traffic is usually slow, so he has time to plan out orders for the rest of the week and make sure their inventory is in check. It’s a little monotonous, but it eats up about four hours of time and gives him a break from any real thinking, so he feels almost relaxed by the time he’s done stocking cases. He has the added bonus of Chris and Buck’s conversation in the back room as background noise, interspersed with the occasional yell and slap of the table and Buck teaches him a new card game. The melody of Chris’s laugh and the harmony of their voices soothes him even more than usual, quiets some of the lingering annoyance from his call with his parents.

As he heads into the back room to grab the last boxes of peonies, Chris beckons him over to the table where he and Buck have been stationed since breakfast. It’s become a bit of a tradition: Buck brings muffins or bagels from Bobby and Athena’s bakery on Sundays and hangs out until the afternoons when his earliest appointments are scheduled (I refuse to tattoo anyone while they’re hungover from Saturday, Eddie. It’s not good for them and the extra complaining is certainly not good for me.). 

Maybe that’s another reason Sundays are his favorite days. Add that to the list of secret feelings involving Buck that are following him to the grave.

“Dad! Look, I colored Buck’s skull purple!” Chris says as Eddie comes behind his chair, bracketing him in with his arms on the table. Chris giggles as Eddie kisses the top of his head, leaning over him for a closer look. Buck’s latest tattoo is indeed a bright shade of purple, the roses surrounding it colored in blue.

“I told him I like cooler colors and he ran with it,” Buck says. Eddie’s eyes shift to Buck’s face, and he feels his heart stutter when he sees the soft, fond smile directed at Chris. It stutters again when Buck’s eyes meet his, that familiar warmth settling over him as Buck’s smile gets bigger, and he feels good enough, relaxed enough, that it actually soaks into his skin. Buck’s gaze flits down to Eddie’s arm where it’s still bracketing Chris, a crease appearing right between his eyebrows. The urge to lean over and kiss it away is unbelievably sudden and strong, and Eddie silently congratulates himself for keeping it together.

“Your ink looks a little faded there, Eds. I can fix it up for you, if you want.”

Eddie looks at the script on his arm, twisting it back and forth to see the whole thing. Buck’s right, the ink does look duller. Makes sense for a tattoo he got on his 18th birthday that he definitely didn’t take care of properly. 

Fortalecer la mente y superar el cuerpo. Strengthen the mind and overcome the body. When he was young and invincible, that seemed like all he needed. A clear head, clear purpose, clear desires, and he’d be able to do anything he wanted. If he followed the rules and did everything right, he’d get a happy ending.

But, once again, it hadn’t been enough. And now, looking at that tattoo just reminds him of the ways he’s failed. How he hasn’t been able to make his mind into anything resembling strong, how there are days when he’s so weak even basic functions take too much effort. How a happy ending is feels so far away he can’t remember what one even looks like.

He shrugs, hand rubbing the tattoo unconsciously. “Maybe, I kinda just want to let this one fade out though. Maybe get a different one somewhere else.”

“Well, my offer of a free tattoo still stands, just name the day.” Buck says. 

Chris gasps and twists around in his seat, eyes bright with excitement. “Can I help you pick it out? Can I draw it? I’m good at lots of stuff now, and Buck can help!”

And he’s not sure what it is — the smile on Chris’s face at the idea, Buck’s matching one, the lingering frustration with his parents transforming into rebellion (something he hasn’t felt since he last got a tattoo), or a combination of the three. But before he can think too hard about it, he hears himself saying:

“You know what? Why not. I’ll get another tattoo, and you guys can design it.”

They cheer and high five each other, Chris hugging Eddie tight around the middle.

“But,” Eddie says, “I do want final approval. And no cartoon characters.”

“I promise, Dad, it’ll be the best tattoo ever!” Chris grabs his nearby notebook and starts doodling, chattering happily about what he thinks will look good. Buck catches his eye again and winks, and Eddie’s returning smile is the easiest it’s ever been.

He grabs the boxes he came back for and goes to the front, still smiling as he hears Buck and Chris very seriously discuss the details of what Eddie should get. He’s not nervous, really, but he does say a silent prayer to whoever is listening that they don’t pick something too big or too bold. He loves them both, but not that much.

~~~~~~~~~~

They take about a week to design it and are so secretive they might as well be planning a jewel heist. It seems like every time Eddie walks into a room, they’re there with their heads pressed together, whispering over sheets of paper and pens. When Eddie tries to sneak a peek, they quickly hide everything away so he can’t see. Buck throws his whole body on the table at one point just to cover up the sketches.

Again, he’s not nervous. But the anticipation does start to get to him.

Finally, after a busy Saturday full of wedding deliveries, they announce that the design is complete, and Eddie is scheduled at Armageddon the following Friday evening. Chris already has a sleepover with Denny that night and won’t be able to come, but he makes Eddie double pinky promise to send pictures to Hen as soon as it’s done. 

It’s Friday now, and Eddie is all set up at Buck’s station in the back of the shop, waiting to see the final product of Buck and Chris���s hard work. He is a little nervous now, but he mostly blames that on Buck, who keeps looking over the sketchpad, pen in hand like he wants to make last minute changes, or like something isn’t quite right.

“Just show me, Buck,” Eddie says after a few minutes of watching Buck bite his lip in worry. Whatever the design is, he’s sure he’ll love it, if for no other reason than because of the two people who made it.

“Okay, okay. You can be honest if you don’t like it, but I think you’re gonna like it.”

He flips the paper over, turning it towards Eddie. It’s a crescent of flowers, an unfinished wreath, featuring moonflowers, Eddie’s favorite, with their starburst centers spiraling open, and ox-eye daisies, which he knows Chris loves. Sprigs of lavender and thyme fill in the gaps, and there’s a small bee floating around the center. It’s beautiful and a little chaotic, but it’s perfect. Reminders of his son and peace and courage that he’ll be able to carry with him always, that he’ll be able to look at when he forgets that he is capable of bravery or deserving of peace. He stares at the sketch, taking in every detail, for who knows how long. Buck clears his throat to get his attention.

“Chris thought the daisies and moonflowers would look good together, and they’re both white so no need for color. I thought the herbs would be nicer than just plain leaves. And he wanted it in a ‘C’ shape, you know, for Christopher.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “And the bee?”

“Chris thought that would be cute, too, but you can nix that if you want.” There’s a faint blush dusting Buck’s cheeks as his eyes track down to the bee in question. “So, what do you think? Any major changes? You can tell me if you hate it, I won’t tell Chris.”

He looks up and Buck’s eyes are excited and worried all at once. Eddie would do anything to take the worry away, but at least this time it’s an easy fix.

“I don’t hate it, it’s perfect,” he says, handing the sketch back to Buck and settling back in the chair. “Let’s do this.”

Buck smiles brightly as he grabs an antiseptic wipe, holding Eddie’s right arm steady as he wipes down the area just below his elbow crease where the tattoo will go. Eddie knew he wanted it there as soon as he’d agreed to get one — he’d be able to see it easily when he needed to, and he liked that it matched the placement of his current one, would almost be replacing it if the words ever fully faded away. Once it’s cleaned, Buck puts a temporary transfer of the design there to trace over, starts up the tattoo machine, and loads the ink. The low buzzing of the machine mixes with the music playing and soft conversation coming from other clients in the shop, washing over Eddie like white noise.

Buck takes his arm again, machine in hand, and locks his eyes on Eddie. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“You can yell if it hurts too bad, just try not to pass out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, says “It’ll be—” before cutting off with an involuntary hiss as the needle touches his skin. Buck snorts, and Eddie does his best to glare but feels it fall short.

He hadn’t worried about the pain — he vaguely remembered the sensation of being stabbed over and over again and didn’t remember it hurting that bad. He had also been shot before, so he figured he’d be able to handle it.

What he hadn’t taken into account was that for the next two hours or so, he and Buck would be very close together, close enough that Eddie can feel Buck’s breath on his arm as he traces over the outline, feels his strong hand on his wrist as he keeps Eddie from twitching. He had never been this close to Buck, had never allowed himself to be, and now that he is, he’s not sure how to act. He tries to look anywhere else, takes in the art on the wall, watches the other clients with Maddie and Chimney. He tries to make a to-do list for the weekend in his head, go over the things Chris will need for school next week, mentally figure out the designs for next week’s orders.

It’s all in vain, though, because no matter what, his eyes always drift back to Buck. From here, he can take in everything, and for once, he lets himself, because who knows when he’ll have this opportunity again. 

Buck’s brow is furrowed in concentration, blue eyes dark as they focus. He can almost count every eyelash, and his birthmark stands out even more than usual, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. Eddie itches to reach out and touch it, feel how soft he imagines Buck’s skin to be under his fingertips. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp and beautiful, and Eddie wonders again how anyone could resist them. How someone could look at this man, have even one conversation with him, and decide they didn’t want more. He’s biting his lip as he finishes the first moonflower, and it turns and even darker pink as he releases it. Eddie gets a little lost imagining how those lips would feel on his, how gentle and warm and good. He imagines feeling them on his shoulder as they wake up on a Saturday morning, sees them laughing as they both make breakfast, trading kisses as they go. He wants to taste them, feel them moving down his neck, down his chest, wrapping around his—

He inhales quickly and shakes his head, because this is not the time nor the place to go down that particular road. Thankfully, Buck’s still in his own little world, eyes never leaving Eddie’s arm. He must mistake Eddie’s movement for discomfort, because he moves his free hand down from his wrist until they’re holding hands, Buck’s thumb moving slowly back and forth in comfort.

“You can squeeze if it hurts too bad,” he mutters, still not looking up. Thank god too, because Eddie can feel his face go bright red and his heart start working overtime.

The first pass takes about an hour, and they take a break so Eddie can stretch his legs and Buck can get more ink. There’s still some detailing left to do, but Eddie already can’t stop staring at the tattoo. It looks even better than the sketch, and having a tribute to his son literally branded on his skin fills a fiercely paternal part of him like nothing else ever has. There’s also a smug part that’s still 17 years old and can’t wait to see the looks on his parents’ faces when they have their next video call.

Buck finishes getting set up again and Eddie settles back in the chair. It’s quieter now — they’re the only two on the floor, Maddie and Chimney having finished up and moved to the back room, and the music playing over the speakers is something slower, stripped down, seems to filter into the room and soften all the hard edges of the world. Buck catches his eye from where he’s sitting, asking silent permission to start. Eddie nods, and he feels his heart swell when Buck automatically grabs his hand again. 

He’s got maybe 45 more minutes in this proximity to Buck, and he takes full advantage: notes the way his curls are starting to fall loose after a long day, tries to catalogue each shift of his face, every twitch of concentration, the shadow of his stubble growing in. Getting to study him like this — memorize the details of the beautiful face that houses an even more beautiful soul — makes all the feelings Eddie’s been trying to fight for months now bubble to the surface, fizzing inside of him like pop bubbles. 

But there’s a chill that settles in as well, because despite his heart desperately pulling him towards this man, he reminds himself once again that he can’t have this. He can’t let himself have this, can’t do that to Buck. He’s supposed to be forgetting about his feelings, releasing them so they can both be happy — Buck with someone who deserves him and Eddie...alone. With Chris, but still. Alone. And now he has to wrestle with that while a slide show of Buck’s every facial feature plays through his head on a likely infinite loop.

He can’t forget as easily as he thought. If he’s honest, there’s a small, hopeful part of himself that doesn’t want to forget, that never wanted to forget, and it’s getting louder and harder to ignore with each passing minute.

“Done!” Buck says as he turns off the machine and wipes away the last of the excess ink. Eddie looks at the finished product, a soft smile settling on his lips. He looks up and sees Buck watching him, looking hopeful. “What do you think?”

Eddie’s finger hovers over a daisy reverently. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers, smile spreading as he meets Buck’s eye again. “Thank you, Buck.”

Buck returns the smile, squeezing Eddie’s hand where they’re still clasped together, neither of them moving to let go. They’re still in each other’s bubble, close enough that Eddie can still count Buck’s eyelashes, and he watches Buck watch him for a moment. His eyes roam his face like he too is cataloging Eddie from here, and that hopeful voice is convincing him that from where they’re sitting, it’d be so easy to lean in and confirm exactly what Buck tastes like, how his lips would feel under his own. Just six inches away from allowing himself to be happy, because he can’t imagine being anything else with Buck.

His phone goes off from his pocket, immediately bursting the bubble, both of them flinching as the loud trill fills the shop. They both know it’s Chris, but he still looks at Buck apologetically, like it’s his fault for shattering whatever atmosphere they’d just been living in. Buck just waves toward the phone, squeezing his hand one more time before letting go to clean up his station. He talks to Chris for a bit, showing him the tattoo from every angle, and Chris talks to Buck as well, gushing about what a great job Buck did. Buck blushes at the praise, and that tug of want pulls at Eddie again.

They hang up and Eddie gathers his things while listening to Buck’s strict aftercare instructions, both heading to the front door so Buck can lock up. 

“Are you sure I can’t pay you?” Eddie asks.

“I told you it was on the house and I meant that. Plus it’s nice to work on someone I actually care about.”

Eddie feels his face get warm, hopes the neon lights in the window are bright enough to cover it up. It gets warmer as they continue looking at each other, neither willing to break their little bubble again. He thinks he sees Buck move more toward him, like he wants to get closer, but he stops himself before following through, leaning back on his heels instead, looking sheepish.

“Goodnight, Eddie. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eddie waves as he leaves, stepping into the cool night to walk back to the apartment. He keeps glancing down at his arm on the walk and while he’s getting ready for bed, thinking of the care Chris and Buck both put into creating it. That small voice in his head keeps nagging him, saying Buck wouldn’t do something like this, something this personal, for just anyone. He complains about his clients enough for Eddie to know that’s true.

Maybe the voice is on to something. As he falls asleep, Eddie lets himself think that maybe, maybe, on top of everything, on top of two years of friendship and flowers and looks that make Eddie’s insides flutter, maybe these feelings he’s been trying to ignore aren’t as one sided as he thought.

Maybe he has a chance.

[alj4890]

None But You

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) in a regency era romance as requested by @pixieferry

A/N Migraines and indecision kept this chapter from being finished earlier. I will try and get the next one out soon. Only a few more left for this story so I must make them the best 💗 Shall we see what is happening at the house party?

@graceful-popcorn​ @krsnlove​ @alleksa16 @hopelessromantic1352  @pixieferry @emceesynonymroll​ @buzz-bee-buzz @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @lxaah11 @my-heart-beats-for-ya @friedherringclodthing @aworldoffandoms @ab1901 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

Summary: Lord Thomas has recieved a special license from the archbishop. He, Lady Amanda, and Lady Lucinda begin wedding plans. He continues to spend sleepless nights guarding his love from Duke Montmarte. Lady Millie has a couple surprises that quite discombobulate her.

Masterlist

Chapter 10

"What say you, Kirkwood?" Lord Michael Rawlings asked

Ryan nudged Thomas who had once again fallen asleep.

The viscount jerked awake. "Er, sorry Rawlings. What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you thought we should postpone the grouse hunting until the day after the ball." He repeated.

"Yes, I do." He grumbled.

The duke chortled. "Still having trouble sleeping, Lord Hunt?"

Thomas narrowed his eyes at Viktor. The past few days had been filled with those type of remarks followed by hints that Amanda was the one keeping him awake. He doubted that the duke knew he had been sneaking into her room every night to keep watch over her. If he had known, there was no doubt in Thomas's mind that he would cause a scandal.

The truth about his lack of sleep, though, was indeed tied to his intended.

Lying beside Amanda had been a mistake from the moment his head hit the pillow. He couldn't turn his mind off. She had no trouble at all falling asleep. Knowing she was practically his and returned his love, had made the rush of desire unbearable.

At one point during the night she had turned toward him. She cuddled close against his back.

He could feel her warmth through his linen shirt. Without even pausing to consider the ramifications, he rolled onto his back. He lifted his arm and tucked her close to his side. She rested her head under his chin and placed her hand over his heart.

He dipped his head and took a deep breath against her hair. She smelled of roses. His fingertips stroked down her bare arm.

Then she made a slight moan in her sleep.

He couldn't move her back to her side of the bed fast enough. The rest of the night was a tortuous battle between his chivalry and desire.

He found that his future wife could sleep through anything except his leaving the bed.

She sat up with a start when he got up to sneak back to his room. The sky barely held the first blush of dawn as she watched him put his shoes on.

"You're leaving?" She mumbled past a yawn.

"The servants will be down soon." He gathered his coat and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Lock the door behind me."

She followed him to the door and smiled when he pulled her close.

"I'll come by to escort you downstairs for breakfast." He whispered against her lips.

After a tender kiss he quickly left for his own chambers.

The other nights had fallen into the same pattern. She would fall into peaceful slumber while he tried to guard her not only from Montmarte’s possible attack but also from himself. He didn't trust himself in his sleep with her so near.

He had been caught often falling asleep during dull conversations and recitals. While Amanda was kind in allowing him to rest, his friends were more than happy to startle him awake.

Thomas rose from his chair and decided to find his intended and finish that nap he had begun.

His steps were interrupted by the Duke.

"Kirkwood?"

Thomas grit his teeth and turned around

"I heard that you sent a request for a special license." Viktor's leer formed. "Can't wait to get her in your bed, can you?"

Thomas felt his temper snap. "I--"

"There you are!" Lucy said in a loud, chipper tone. "Please excuse us your grace, but I need Lord Hunt to settle some wedding plans." She took Thomas's arm and tugged. "So much is left to be decided. The flowers, church, good heavens! What about..."

Thomas tuned her out as he turned back to watch the Duke. The man was still chuckling as he walked outside.

"Where is Amanda?" Thomas interrupted.

"She and Millie are lawn bowling with some of the other ladies." Lucy whispered. She looked back over her shoulder to make certain they were alone. "Have you heard from the archbishop yet?"

"I did this morning." Thomas's frown eased. "Amanda and I can be married as soon as she wishes."

"How wonderful!" She exclaimed. "We must get her inside at once. Though I used the excuse to get you away from that horrid man, we do have much we need to discuss."

______________

"Drat." Amanda mumbled when her roll left most of the pins up.

"Just look at her." Millie hissed.

Amanda didn't bother to ask who she was supposed to observe. Her dearest friend had taken personal offense to everything Ms. Victoria Fontaine did.

At the moment, Victoria was holding court with a few gentlemen. Many of the unattached ladies gravitated to her, in the hopes that the men would turn their sights on them.

Nothing galled Lady Millie more than a conceited person having flocks of people worshipping at their feet.

"Ladies." Ryan murmured, stopping beside them. "How goes the game?"

"I would be crowned the champion if the object of the game was to get the ball as close as possible without knocking any pins over." Amanda teased.

Millie let out a rage filled gasp. "Oh! She's captured Lord Matthew!"

Ryan followed her gaze. "I don't believe he is falling under her spell. Lord Rodriguez is simply much too kind to shun her publicly."

Millie hmphed and cut her eyes to the bane of her existence. "And what of you, m'lord? I noticed after dinner last night that you remained by her side for the rest of the evening."

Ryan's lips curved. "You kept your eyes upon me the entire night?"

"I did no such thing!" Millie snapped. "I might have glanced your way once or twice." She stuck her nose up in the air. "You seemed entranced with her conversation."

"Seemed is correct." He informed her. "She was relaying some gossip about a mutual friend of ours."

"You two are sharing malicious tales now?" Millie bit out. "Why am I not surprised?"

Ryan's charming smile disappeared. "I do not partake in such activities." His cheerful demeanor hardened at such an insult. "I only stayed long enough to persuade her to cease sharing such a story." He bowed stiffly and left.

"Millie, perhaps you should--" Amanda said softly.

"I am not chasing him down to apologize!" Millie covered her mouth when her harsh tone caused Amanda to step back. "Forgive me, I'm--I've been out of sorts lately."

"Millie," Amanda whispered. "Could it be Lord Summers that is making you out of sorts?"

"Why, that's absurd!" Millie denied. "That man is nothing more than a--a--..." She closed her mouth and turned her eyes toward where he was laughing with Chris and two other ladies. "Oh no."

Amanda smiled and gave her a quick hug. "I am so happy you have chosen a gentleman who I am fond of."

Millie paled. "It can't be true. Surely, he isn't the reason I--" she noticed her mother and father going for their usual walk in the garden.

Whatever Gabriel said had Henrietta sticking her nose up and snapping at him. As she tried to leave his side, he said something else that caused a reluctant laugh to escape her lips. The two looked at each other in adoration before she took his arm once more, hugging it close to her.

"I've become my mother." Millie said in utter disbelief.

"Isn't it amazing how our hearts seem to recognize our true love before our minds do?" Amanda teased. Her gaze fell upon her own heart's choice when he stepped out into the courtyard.

His frown eased when he found her, and he started to come her way.

"I think I need to lie down while I come to terms with this." Millie murmured. She walked off in a daze, absent mindedly nodding to those she passed.

"Is something the matter with Lady Millicent?" Thomas asked once he kissed Amanda's hand.

"Yes, but all will be made right eventually." She slipped her arm in the bend of his and gently squeezed. "How are you holding up?"

He grimaced at her noticing his tiredness. "I'll be fine." He lifted her hand to his lips again. "I sought you for a purpose."

"Oh?" Her smile turned teasing. "It wasn't simply because you crave my company?"

His lips curved. "That is something you should never have to question." He walked with her toward the house. "I received our special license. We can marry whenever you wish."

"We can?" She asked. Her smile brightened. "Does Aunt Lucy know?"

"She does and sent me to fetch you." He pulled her into an empty sitting room, shutting the door behind her. "We have a number of decisions to make."

Amanda didn't bother to hide her joy with such news. Her lips parted to tell him how happy she was, only to have him press his lips to hers.

His arms slipped around her waist as her hands tangled in his hair. The kiss would have continued if they had not heard a throat clear.

"Don't mind me." Ryan remarked with a grin. He rose from the wingback chair he had been sitting in. "I was only seeking a moment of peace from some of the cackling hens outside."

He winked at Amanda before hurrying out.

"Remind me why we agreed to attend a house party?" Thomas grumbled.

Amanda laughed and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, drawing a smile from him. "Let us not dwell on that. We will find Aunt Lucy and then a place where you can doze for a few hours."

He kissed her once more and then followed her out."

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

"I believe the first decision to be made is where you wish to marry." Lucy began. "Once that location is chosen, then we can see what dates are feasible."

"I don't have a preference." Amanda said. "Do you, Thomas?"

"I had hoped to marry at the parish near my home. My parents were married there as well as the heirs to Kirkwood." He took her hand to hold. "Mr. Blake became the new minister five years ago. He is a good man and one who's counsel and friendship I cherish. If you wish to marry somewhere else, I will at least want him to perform the ceremony."

"Mr. Simmons, our minister for decades, passed away two years ago. He would have been the one I would have wanted to marry us." She smiled at him, gently squeezing his hand. "I have no objections to marrying at your parish nor having Mr. Blake to officiate it."

"Thank you." He turned to Lucy. "Are you agreeable to this?"

"I am." She replied. "I would be agreeable to anything that the two of you wish." She wrote out the plan thus far. "Now we must decide when we should have the ceremony."

Thomas and Amanda shared a smile. "As soon as possible." She answered.

Lucy didn't bother hiding her delighted smile. "Depending on the number of guests--"

"I want Amanda to have as many guests as she wants, but I would be content only having those that are our true friends." He spoke up.

"An intimate ceremony would suit me as well." Amanda added.

"Well, then..." Lucy tapped a finger to her chin in thought. "Three weeks should be sufficient time to have all made ready."

"Three weeks? Are we not returning to London for the gown?" Amanda asked.

Lucy's smile turned a touch proud. "I had a modiste begin your wedding gown the day after Lord Thomas began sending gifts during your recuperation. I knew after the way he cared for you when your fever raged that you were meant to be." A bubble of laughter escaped her lips at the utter surprise on the couple's faces. "All that's left is the final fitting and she and her seamstresses are willing to travel to complete it."

Lucy rose from her chair, waving Thomas back down. "I'm going to speak to Henrietta about Millie's maid of honor dress." She beamed at them. "I am very happy for you both, my dears."

Once she was gone, Amanda took his hand.

"Where are we going?" He asked, following her out.

"Somewhere where you can rest undisturbed." She whispered.

Amanda led him to a small den, far from where the guests usually congregated.

He eyed the room. The furniture here was a touch worn yet seemed comfortable. He then noticed her sewing bag sitting beside a chair.

"You planned this?" Thomas slipped his arm around her waist.

"I did." She looped her arms around his neck. "Since you protect me at night while I sleep, then I can protect you during the day while you rest."

He was at a loss for words at her sweet gesture. He placed a tender kiss on her lips then settled into a leather chair.

She sat across from him and picked up her embroidery.

Thomas watched her a few moments. She seemed so content to sit with him while he slept. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he was most fortunate to find such an agreeable lady to love.

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

"Millie, dear, diamonds are the trump for this hand." Henrietta's brow furrowed as she looked upon her daughter.

"Oh." Millie rubbed her hand across her eyes. She was usually better at whist and had been known to be diabolical in her winnings.

She forced herself from looking once more at the card table where Lord Ryan was entertaining a young lady as well as Amanda and Thomas.

"Your play, Lady Millie." The duke snapped.

She quickly laid down a card and softly groaned. She had played the wrong one once again.

"Another trick for us." Viktor crowed.

"If you will excuse me," Millie stood up. "I believe I am in need of air."

She scurried outside before anyone had a chance to offer to come with her. She needed time alone to think. To plan.

How in the world was she going to convince Lord Summers that he should leave his devil may care, flirts much too often with ladies from the ages of sixteen to seventy, life and join the ranks of happily married men like her brother and the soon to be wed Lord Hunt?

If only she had been kinder to him, then perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult.

She didn't know how to act around him now that Amanda had pointed out that she had fallen for the marquess. When she joined the guests for dinner, she had been assigned him as her escort.

Her tongue felt as if it had grown three sizes. She couldn't think of anything to say.

He of course was still a bit miffed at her earlier insult. He had not spoken a word, save for good evening, and then practically ignored her throughout the meal.

Millie wanted to be angry, yet all she felt was hopelessness.

"Lady Millie?"

She turned and smiled at the gentleman that stepped out. "Sir Chris. In need of a break from cards too?"

He nodded while a smile played about his lips. "I am dreadful at them. I believe Ms. Wright will try and partner with someone else before the night is through."

"I'm not playing at my best this evening. Perhaps we should join forces for the next set." Millie leaned against the trellis and thought of Ryan charming all the ladies except for her.

"Millie?" Chris stepped closer. "What has brought on this sudden case melancholy?"

"I don't know what you mean." She tried to pretend ignorance.

"Millie, I am the gentleman with whom on a number of occasions have been witness to your anger and delight." He motioned toward her slouching and tear-filled eyes. "This is something entirely out of character."

"Have you ever been in love?" She blurted her question out.

"Have I ever--Millie!" He took a step back. "Lady Millicent, I am flattered you think so highly of me, but I do not share your--"

"No!" She violently shook her head. "I did not mean with me, I meant with anyone?"

"Oh thank heavens." Chris slouched next to her. "I was afraid I would have to make a mad dash to town to escape your wrath."

She snorted and then laughed. Millie realized that she had reached the level of absurdity that she had looked down upon for years. She had become a lovestruck fool.

"Who's the lucky chap?" Chris asked.

"I would rather not say." She bit down on her bottom lip. "Needless to say, he does not share any of my feelings."

"Ah." Chris replied. "Summers only reacts that way because of your constant badgering."

"I do not badger him!" Millie snapped. "If he would only act like he is supposed to, he wouldn't have to--" she covered her mouth when she realized what her argument revealed.

"Ah hah! I knew it!" Chris's smile was filled with triumphant. "You and Summers. It will be the match of the season!"

"Hush!" She clapped her hand over his mouth. "Do you want everyone to hear you?!"

"Not everyone." He muttered behind her hand.

She released him and nodded toward the doors. "Escort me inside and do not let on that you know anything."

"Will be difficult since I am one of the most intelligent men in our circle of friends." He grunted when she elbowed him. "But I will appear dumb for the sake of my abused body."

Ryan glanced up when they entered the drawing room. His eyes narrowed on the suspiciously innocent expressions on their faces. Are they becoming attached to one another, he wondered?

His lips firmed into a slight frown at the thought. They had been seen together several times during the house party. They also seemed to have a number of private jokes.

Millie was much too stubborn and demanding for someone of Chris's jovial temperament. He would be a henpecked husband within a month.

She needed someone who could stand toe to toe and combat her serpent's tongue with quips that could easily cut just as deep. That was the only way to handle her.

She would lead a man on a merry chase. Looking like an angel with her golden curls and blue eyes, she deceived all with her smiles and wit. He knew the devil she truly was.

And though he would never admit it aloud, he rather enjoyed sparring with her. It was certainly more interesting than listening to the simperings of some of the other ladies present.

Millie did have a tender heart with those she loved. He had seen that often with her wanting to match Thomas and Amanda.

If she did love Chris, perhaps she wouldn't be such a harpy.

Maybe.

"My Lord," Ms. Chauncey placed her hand on his arm. Her lashes fluttered as she leaned closer. "It is your turn."

He flashed a flirty smile at her. "Forgive me. I was lost in my musings."

"Over anyone in particular?" She asked, hope tinging her tone.

"As a matter of fact," he glanced at Millie again, "my thoughts do seem to stray toward a certain someone."

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

Thomas sneaked into Amanda's room that night once the house was silent.

"Perhaps we should make a run for Gretna Green." She teased. "Then you won't be forced to sneak about."

"And deny your aunt a wedding?" He shuddered. "I wouldn't dare."

She laughed softly and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for being so willing to have a ceremony for her."

He wrapped his arms around her. "As long as you are the one that I end up with, I do not care what type of ceremony we have."

Their lips met in a tender kiss that soon deepened.

They broke apart when they heard the ominous click of the doorknob turning.

"Amanda? I need to speak to--" Millie abruptly stopped with her mouth hanging open.

Amanda quickly shut the door and pulled her stunned friend further into the room. "There is a perfectly good explanation for this."

Millie stared at her in disbelief. "I know you two are betrothed, but--"

"Thomas has been coming here each night--"

"Each night!" Millie gasped.

"To protect me!" Amanda snapped in irritation.

"Viktor Montmarte has been hinting around that Amanda might disappear before the ceremony." Thomas added. "I refuse to allow him to do so. Until she is safely my wife, I will not put it past the lecher to concoct some scheme to whisk her off in the night."

Millie plopped down into one of the chairs near the fireplace. "Good gracious. I knew he was wicked, but surely he wouldn't abscond with an unwilling lady."

"I believe he would." Amanda muttered. "He certainly didn't release me until Lord Matthew forced him to the night of the recital."

"Is there anything I can do?" Millie asked.

"I know we can trust your discretion in this." Thomas reached out and took Amanda's hand. "If you can help keep this from causing a scandal and alert me if you see or overhear anything suspicious from the Duke, that would be just the help we need."

"Of course." Millie's chin firmed in determination. "I will do all I can." She hesitated on her way out. "Does anyone else know of this?"

"No." Thomas answered. "You are the only one who knows of my coming here each night. Summers and Winters have been witness to numerous comments Montmarte has made. Rodriguez also knows of my concerns."

Millie swiftly hugged Amanda and squeezed his hand. "We will make certain that nothing ruins your wedding." She smiled at them both. "I'll sneak back to my room. Good night."

"Thank you, Millie. Good night." Amanda whispered as she locked the door behind her.

Thomas rubbed his hands over his face. "I will breathe easier once we are no longer a part of this bloody house party."

Amanda's lips trembled with laughter. "Everything will work out well." She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He cupped her face and kissed her. "We should try to rest."

He watched her get into bed and took a steadying breath as he joined her.

Her hand found his. "Goodnight."

He lifted her hand to his mouth. "Goodnight, my love."

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

The next morning, Ryan went for a walk. Though life in London kept him out all hours of the night, he thoroughly enjoyed waking up at the first blush of dawn to enjoy a trek across a lush meadow.

As his steps took him near the lake, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He grit his teeth when he recognized who it was.

Lady Millie fluffed out the quilt she had brought along and sat down upon it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting the peaceful sounds of ducks in the lake and the occasional buzz of a bee wash over her.

Her night had been one of tossing and turning. Sleep eluded her as she debated different ways to change Lord Ryan's mind about her.

It seemed impossible.

She picked up her sketch book and decided to let her mind rest as her artistic side took over.

It seemed her artistic side had turned against her. She had begun sketching a likeness of Lord Summers.

"My chin is not nearly that weak."

She looked up and nearly toppled backwards at seeing him standing over her.

"Where the devil did you come from?" She exclaimed.

Ryan quirked an eyebrow. "Is that rhetorical or are you suffering from memory loss?"

She tried to stand up and tumbled forward when she stepped on the hem of her dress.

Ryan reached out and righted her.

Millie's heart thumped against her chest at the feel of his hands on her arms. "Thank you."

His brow furrowed. "Have you been in the sun too long?"

"No, why?" She asked.

"You were actually polite." He murmured.

"I can be polite." She grumbled.

His lips quirked with suppressed humor. "You have the sunniest disposition I have ever encountered."

Laughter bubbled up within her. "I suppose I do tend to treat you like a wretch."

She noticed a softening in his expression, one that held a great deal of approval. "You do, but then again, I'm not exactly on my best behavior when around you."

Her smile made him blink. "Life would be rather dull if we didn't have that one person we could occasionally misbehave with."

Ryan chuckled and shook his head. "As a gentleman I should disagree."

"But?" Millie added.

"But, I agree wholeheartedly."

She smiled once more. "I should probably return to the house. Guests will soon be coming down for breakfast."

He knelt and helped her fold her quilt. "Shall I escort you?"

"If you wish." She replied. "Feel free to continue your stroll."

He bowed to her. "Then I will see you later."

Millie remained in her spot as she watched him walk away. When she knew he was far enough away to not hear her, she let out a deep sigh.

At least they had not argued.

She hurried inside and encountered her mother and Lady Lucy.

"Millie dear, thank goodness you are awake. We have a few remaining tasks to complete before guests arrive for the ball." Henrietta explained. “I would like for it to be a celebration of love.” Her smile was warm. “With Lord Thomas engaged to our Amanda and your brother and Cora announcing that I am to be a grandmother soon, I want all to feel how joyful we are.”

She glanced back outside and saw the gentleman she had her heart set on. "Do not worry, Mamma. We will make this ball unforgettable."