#am I even allowed to feel sorry for him? what if he hid hundreds of dead bodies?? WHY the heck would they make him do that...

[yuseirra]

This comic must really be pulling my heart in a pretty painful way...it's about I stop talking about it, but I think I keep going about because I really can't stand seeing a once kind character...not being properly addressed.

I think I can understand the writing choices of having a person like that break severely. It's not like I can't accept it if they make him the worst villain in the world, that character is theirs(although I sincerely believe that would be a horrible choice to make and I think they would know too)

But the fact that we can't even be sure to what to feel about him really frustrates me. I don't even know what he's actually done yet and there are these vague hints and speeches of him being a horrible person but I don't get to WITNESS that as that actually plays out, we don't get to see what he thinks, what brought him to be this way all the while he has a really strong potential of a narrative that can be explored. The songs display that, so I feel it'd come, but because it's not my work, I can't have any control over it or get a solid sense, right.. It's very tiring.

While that's being taken place I can see a once kind person REALLY hurting, and they never got any help at all till they got destroyed. That aspect of him never gets properly acknowledged and he's hopelessly alone while our protagonist dunks him in the water, chokes him and smiles in relief after thinking he did his part. Why doesn't anyone understand his pains and what kind of person he used to be? It really upsets me. I also can sense why the writer could have made this choice, but in that case, they're not handling this character with respect yet. The problem I have is that there is no guarantee that they will either, I definitely would if I were to be them, and I can infer what direction the story can go, it can be a really good one in that case and I would respect it, but I can't be sure, you know? Regardless of the outcome, I think it's an aspect that should be explored and given to the readers already.

That's the problem with weekly pieces, the wait can get so harsh. Not so many chapters have passed and they would tackle this the way I see it, probably... Things would be resolved one way or the other after a year or so, with the author's intended pacing... But the ambiguity is so painful!!

I wouldn't have as a hard time if I cannot feel things. There are some very strong feelings that get to me when I see this and it makes me feel so pained, the fact that the piece makes me wonder if I'm even allowed to feel pained in relation to the character is just terrible. What did I do to deserve this??

Well, I suffer one way or the other when I get into a series, SOMETHING happens in it that makes me feel very sad. Do you know? Recently, I read the sense of empathy is strongly interconnected with sadness. Perhaps you can relate to others because you can feel sorry towards them, it does make sense. Sadness pains you. You want to alleviate it, if you feel sad about someone else, you wish to tend to them and help them. I'm not sure if I can say that about myself entirely but I CERTAINLY feel pretty sad!! And I want to feel happy, for goodness sake.

They'll handle this just fine. If they don't...well, they really want to make me start writing my own work too. I'm also the type that does inflict a lot of pain to my characters depending on the story, so I feel like I see what the writers want to do. They're probably not doing this to their character because they hate him, they want to make a point. Because the world is like that sometimes. If it were to be about me and my characters, I won't be cruel on them just for the sake of being cruel...they are like my children in a way or a part of myself. The crucial ones that weren't made as a device at least(even them I feel a bit sorry for, for not having given them a chance to be developed much) the writers here are much more capable than I, I am in no place to judge them... I just hope that there will be something meaningful to derive out of all this in the end! And I really should draw out my own stories too! I have so much fun drawing things based on other's works...but I have to also make mine before I die. This gives me that sort of realization, I think I can talk about this piece a lot because it has many things that resonate with me and what I can spot out, relate to, invoke the feels etc, but it can never be exactly what I want it to be, and it should not be that way either. Even if no one would see it besides myself, maybe it's really time I start displaying what I like and think of... I put off thinking I'm not prepared and I lack the insight but it'll never happen at this rate. And... The ships I love, they certainly remind me of my ocs and characters!

In that case, I can actually go more out of my way with drawing my own characters because they're CANON. They're officially what I make of them..so yeah! The ships I love have great dynamic, right. Wait till you see what I made out of my ocs. I sent scenarios to my friend sometime back and they suffered in a good way :) I didn't get why they were so sad but maybe that's what's happening with me and onk too. Maybe the writer of this series and I function in a similar way on that aspect...(I really want that guy to have a chance to smile again though. How can his life be that cruel? He was sweet! That's why I am so bothered and distressed, he needs help, Ai is right. Ai was so righf about him.)

[asherbakugou]

The Deal of Gods and Humans

Prince Laenor of House Velaryon sat in a plush velvet chair within his wife's small study, sipping sour Arbor Gold from a golden chalice in silence as he watched Crown Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen stare out the window of her study. The light highlighted the features of her youth, reminding him of the heavy burden that had been placed upon his shoulders and was now shared between them. She was a little girl, still, with the weight of a Kingdom upon her shoulders and yet she stood with the strength of a dragon against the lit towers aiming to bring her crashing down.

"I'm sorry," Laenor murmured, tearing his wife from her thoughts. "If only the Gods had not made like this. If only they had made me like my father or Prince Daemon then maybe–"

"Stay your tongue!" Rhaenyra ordered, sharply. She whirled around, pale grey skirts swirling along her legs as she stalked towards him. "Had the Gods not made you this way then I would never have agreed to this marriage, no matter that my inheritance would be stripped away. I agreed to take you as my husband because I can trust you within this nest of vipers my home has become. You are my husband and my future King Consort, the man who shall aid my rule and support me."

Laenor gave a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, "I am the husband that cannot give his wife heirs. The man that cannot see a woman for the beauty she is, and feels no lust for the pleasures others speak of."

"We shall figure something out. It will just take time."

"What if you took a paramour? He could give you children that I could claim as mine. They would be mine in name and that is all that matters."

"And if they resembled any but me? Or you? They would be called bastards even if they were an exact copy of Rodrick Arryn or Jocelyn Baratheon as long as they did not have the Valyrian coloring. The Queen and her supporters would make our lives a living hell if she even had an inkling that they were bastards. Even now, she seeks to undermine me."

"I thought the wedding was her only move," Laenor stated, sitting up. Worry shone in his grey-purple eyes. They might not be in love as other matches were but they were partners.

"No. Every day she gathers the Ladies of the Keep for tea and speaks behind my back, spreading rumors of my virtue, of your taste in men, of how I am a heathen whore unfit to be the Heir to the Iron Throne," Rhaenyra sneered, sitting down in the weirwood chair behind her desk. A present from Lady Jeyne Arryn and Lady Amanda Arryn for her wedding.

"She dares speak ill of the Crown Princess? And none stop her or bring her words to the King or you, yourself?"

"Why would they? Each of them come from the Reach or Westerlands, supporters of her son as Heir and future King."

"Then we must dispel the rumors," Laenor stated, reaching into his doublet. He pulled out a letter, setting it on the desk between them. "My dear Laena has sent us a letter. She reminds me of the tales my father used to tell us before bed. Of Sea Serpents, Giants, Gods . . . and Demigods."

"Demigods?" Rhaenyra whispered, remembering the tales Daemon had once told her. "Children of both God and Man. What do those tales have to do with our problems?"

"For years we have hid how we worship the Fourteen Flames, let those of the Seven deem our culture as heathenistic and disrespectful. I believe she means for us to seek out our true Gods and ask for their help."

"They are Gods, Laenor. What could we possibly give them in return for three children?"

"Anything they wish. Rhaenyra if you wish to be Queen this might be our only option. We need trueborn heirs and who better than the Gods that shaped us and gave us dragons?"

"The same Gods who allowed hundreds of thousands of people be wiped by the Doom. The ones who allow us to be ridiculed and shamed even as Kings, Queens, and Heirs of Valyrian Houses. The only ones left of Old Valyria, might I add," Rhaenyra snapped, glaring.

Laenor did not let her flames deter him. "And what other option do we have? Let Prince Aegon be named Heir because you have no children to rule after you?"

Rhaenyra snarled, teeth baring as Syrax sang within her soul, black teeth bared as flamed gathered in her chest. "Watch yourself husband. I could take that as treason."

"But I speak the truth," Laenor stated, Seasmoke humming in the back of his mind, tail swishing across the dusty ground of his cave. "You said we would need trueborn children and I have given you a suggestion. It is either this, your give birth to bastards after taking a paranour, or remain childless and have your titles taken. Take your pick, wife."

Charged silence fell within the study as the two dragons stared each other down. Eventually, Rhaenyra acquiesced.

"Fine. In two days time we travel to Dragonstone. We will call it a honeymoon of sorts, as if we seek alone time for . . . things. The Temple of the Fourteen will hear our prayers and we shall see if the Gods will answer."

"Then it is decided."

—Temple of the Fourteen—

The Temple of the Fourteen was almost hidden behind Castle Dragonstone, even with how large it was. The rotunda had 14 stained glass windows, each displaying the symbol of one of the 14 Gods or Godesses sitting above the corrosponding statue. Made entirely out of black dragonglass with runes carved in and filled with Valyrian steel, the Temple was truly of Valyrian make and ancestry.

Over the two days planning their week long trip to the Isle of Dragonstone, they had argued over which statue to pray too, eventually agreeing upon the Goddess Meleys. She ruled over fertility, love, sexuality, mothers, and childbirth, so they had come to the realization that she would be a better fit than Arrax or Aegerax.

"It's beautiful," Laenor murmured, High Valyrian rolling of his tongue with an Essosi lilt that Lord Corlys and his sister both had. It brought a heat to Rhaenyra whenever she heard it even if she preffered how it sounded when Daemon spoke.

"It is." Rhaenyra and Laenor came to a stop before the white dragonglass statue of Meleys. Stood in a patch of dirt, a large myrtle tree had grown alongside her, manipulated to lean over her seemingly sheltering the Goddess who wore a floor length dress with long slits up the side leaving her most of her legs and bare feet exposed.

Held in her left hand was a mirror, as pearls draped across the exposed cut of her shoulders while long sleeves fell around her forearms. Perched upon her shoulder was a dove while a peacock stood at her side, long beautifull feathers carved and painted in detail.

"Do you remember the prayer?" Laenor asked as they both stared up into the gentle features carved into the statue.

"I have not had the time to forget it," Rhaenyra murmured dryly, unsure of if she should speak normally. Together they kneeled, bowing before the Goddess' statue.

"O' Meleys, O' Queen of the Gods, Goddess of Love, Goddess of Fertility, Goddess of Motherhood, Goddess of Childbirth, we seek your aid. As Heir to the Iron Throne and Heir to Driftmark, we ask you to provide us with heirs and a spare. To allow us to further our bloodlines, O' Queen of the Gods. Name a price and we shall pay it for three children borne of our blood."

The pyre that stood to her right suddenly lit with pale pink-whire fire, startling both of them. So focused they were, neither saw the statue move until she spoke, voice soft but firm, loving and kind.

"Greetings, Princess Rhaenyra, Chosen Heir. Greetings, Prince Laenor, Chosen Guardian. I have been awaiting your call for many moons."

Neither could find it within themselves to speak, staring at the talking statue with awe and fear in equal parts.

"Be not afraid. Your call has been anticipated and awaited eagerly." Her soft look melted to something sharp and protective. "The Promised Heir shall come from your blood, Rhaenyra, but due to your father's folly, in one line of fate they fall and the world is taken in the Long Night. No one is left, no dragons, no people, no wildlings. Only wights. To make sure this never comes to pass We, the Fourteen Flames, the Seven-Who-Are-One, and the Elder Gods have decided to intervene. We have decided to interfere with fate itself to make sure our favored survive and fight back the Long Night."

"Us? But my father said– when he told me of the prophecy . . ."

"Tessarion gave the prophecy to Aegon in the hopes that he would unite Westeros to prepare them for the Long Night. But after making them kneel he in turn kneeled for the Seven-Who-Are-One who have no control over any family of Valyrian Blood. We are not the only the ones that have been disrespected or forgotten.

"The supposed followers of the Seven have perverted and twisted the words of the Seven-Who-Are-One to fit their agendas, destroying the faith that once was. The Elder Gods are slowly being forgotten as we are, and with fewer and fewer worshipping us, we are dying."

"Dying?" Laenor asked, horrified. Every story ever told spoke of how a God could not be killed.

"Not in the way you understand but yes. Magic is being forcibly taken from your world, one of the few weapons that would secure your future. But we believe we have a way for this world to survive. Do you accept the responsibility, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Laenor Velaryon?"

They both hesitated, but looking upon her face, one that looked similar to Aemma's in Rhaenyra's eyes and one that looked sinilar to Rhaenys' for Laenor and they made their decision.

"We accept this responsibility, My Queen."

She smiled softly.

"From us you will be given 14 children, born of each of us with our favor to save the Targaryen, Velaryon, Celtigar, and Stark lines. The Seven-Who-Are-One and the Elder Gods have decided that their gifts will be given in secret to aid you. But I have another gift to offer you." Meleys' smile grew wider. "Would you like to hear the names of your children and who they are the child of?"

"Yes! Please, My Queen," Rhaenyra added, blushing fiercly at the outburst. While afraid to have so many children, a part of her was curious to know her future.

"The First. Son of Arrax, King of the Gods, Jacaerys Targaryen."

"The Second. Daughter of Tyraxes, Goddess of Peace. Alyssa Velaryon."

"The Third. Son of Caraxes, God of the Seas. Lucerys Velaryon."

"The Fourth. Son of Vhagar, Goddess of War. Maegor Velaryon."

"The Fifth. Daughter of Vermax, God of Travel. Visenya Velaryon."

"The Sixth. Son of Aegerax, God of Creation. Aerion Velaryon."

"The Seventh. Daughter of Tessarion, Goddess of Dreams. Daenys Velaryon."

"The Eighth. Daughter of myself, Goddess of Love. Aemma Velaryon."

"The Ninth. Son of Syrax, Goddess of Chaos. Saeryn Velaryon."

"The Tenth. Daughter of Meraxes, Goddess of the Sky. Rhaella Velaryon."

"The Eleventh. Son of Gaelithox, God of the Sun. Aegon Velaryon."

"The Twelfth. Son of Vermithor, God of Smiths. Aemon Velaryon."

"The Thirteenth. Daughter of Shrykos, Goddess of Beginnings. Valaena Velaryon."

"The Fourteenth. Son of Balerion, God of the Underworld. Baelon Velaryon."

"Tonight Tessarion shall visit you to give you the instructions on how to allow us to give you children. Be ready. Good luck."

The statue straightened back into her precious position and fell still, allowing complete silence to fall within the Temple.

"Well," Laenor began, mumbling. "I believe we should head to the Keep, should we not? A drink or two might help."

"I agree." With that the two retreated back to the castle to talk about what had just happened, and drink enough wine to help settle their nerves before Tessarion came to visit.

[naresnani]

Overture

Fandom: Ikemen Prince | Nokto Klein/Adam Kain (OC) | Words: 880

Tags: Jealousy, Bodyguard/valet AU

Summary:

I am not a jealous man. I do not feel strongly towards people.

Notes: Supposed to be for @xxsycamore 's AU event... right? is that still going on? well anyway...

If I ever were to fancy somebody I shouldn't, it is trivial to simply abandon those feelings and let go. It's been easier that way, and none was ever the wiser. 

Some light sounds of laughter were being carried by the evening wind. A pair. I stayed behind. Higher up the rose hill. It was a cool evening with petals fluttering around me while the sky turned a warm colour. The breeze lifted up my sweat. I couldn't feel the sun. The prince and his maiden squeezed each other's hands. Their whispers couldn't reach me. 

It feels wrong, but it's my job to watch him. It's been my job for years. Five, maybe seven. Since I left my tribe I've never known anything else. From writing his letters to dressing his wounds to dressing him in the morning. From a clueless lad to the only one who knows of all his needs.

I am paid well. I am respected. Although he doesn't always make my work easy, he's fortunate that I do care for him. I do, beyond what they paid me to. 

I don't think anyone else would care for him if it isn't me. 

"I can't let you go through with this. My… heart wouldn't let me."

"Adam, all you need to do is pick me up outside the building and ride. Do you have no faith in me?" 

"I do. But my faith holds no water in what will actually occur. Please, your Highness, look for another way. You cannot be more needlessly reckless."

"...I revealed all my plans to you because I trust you. You're someone I trust the most. No one else would do this for me but you." 

"Then let me come with you!" 

"No!"

"Why? What difference would it make?"

"I'm someone they can't hurt. I could walk out of there without a single worry in my life whether or not I succeed. You, on the other hand, have a bright future ahead of you."

"What do you mean by that, what are you saying?" 

This maiden. She's a commoner, here for purposes I am not privy of. He's different. She's not like the other women he's had taken with him. He doesn't play around or use her. He is smitten by her looks. He told me so. He's smitten by her voice and laughter and by the way she does care for him. She caresses his hair and she reads to him at night and she allows herself this. He lays his head down her lap and he allows himself this. He is smitten. 

He took her near one of the rose bushes and hid her face in his hands. I avert my eyes. I shouldn't be allowed to follow them this far…

The rose hill is too large even for a hundred people, much less an individual. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm too large and too small. I hear too much and too little. I'm curious, and I'm sick to death of them. If I could leave I would. His laughter is the only sound that reached me. I'm sick. 

He always has his way with words. He's too kind, too caring. He "trusts you the most." He misleads people all the time, who was I kidding? He "likes the company." He "likes having you at all times." He "wants you to feel like you belong." He, "If you have nowhere else to be, then I want you to be with me."

"Adam…"

"It's me, I made it. I mean… you did."

"Where are we?" 

"You took the antidote too late, your Highness. You took them too late, my God. It could've been it. It could've been… If it weren't for…." 

"You made it."

"The doctor got to you just in time, I could have been too late. I'm sorry. Please, please don't ever do this again. I can't do this again." 

"I told you, I trust you with my life, and I was right." 

"Please don't… not me." 

"Hahahah… who else?" 

They're all just words. I should never have allowed myself this delusion, that he even slightly cares for me beyond how much he paid me. Yet who could blame me? I've carried him on the verge of his death after he ingested that poison. I didn't sleep for a week, I never left his bedside. I changed his clothes, I cleaned him. I've once fought till my blood beat out of me for him. I've killed for him. I've loved him. I couldn't do any of it without some form of love. Does anyone? Can anyone? 

I didn't think anyone else would love him if it wasn't me. 

"Adam, what are you doing here?" 

He was right behind, the maiden still tailing him. 

"Ah, I apologise. I thought you should have your own space." 

"Me and Emma are going to the city. Do you have somewhere else to be?" 

I do not, of course. 

"I'll take your Highness there, don't worry."

They smile. Seeing them happy, content, I do not feel any bitterness, nor sadness. I don't really feel anything. I don't think I'm a jealous man, nor do I feel strongly towards people. 

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 26: Beyond the Liaison & Profiler

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​ @averyhotchner​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989​​​​​​

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

Aitana brought her game tonight even if it meant feeling her soreness each time she moved quicker than she should. Still, she was very proud when she fit the last piece of the puzzle before Spencer could even reach for the damn thing.

"Ha! Yes! I win—" She had barely cheered with fists in the air when she felt the sharp jab on her side and was forced to pull her arms down. She settled for one mock salute afterwards.

Spencer was only holding his laugh because it looked like she'd hurt herself badly. "I, uh, thought this was supposed to be a friendly puzzle..." He remarked, pushing his chair closer to the table.

Aitana snorted, very subtle passing a hand over her wound. The kitchen table thankfully hid the movement from Spencer. "You do realize that everyone else was happy to tell me that you're secretly competitive, right?"

"Spencer frowned. "I'm not competitive."

"That's not what Morgan swears."

"I'm not!"

Aitana raised a hand, indicating she would pause the argument. "You know what? Because you so kindly came over to lend me a new book and you actually sat down to do a puzzle with me, I'm going to pretend that Morgan wasn't right. You've given me some fun on this solitary evening of mine."

Spencer deadpanned her. "Wow, so big of you. Thanks."

Aitana smiled proudly. "Yes, I am."

Spencer pretended to disapprove of her tidbits. She was right, though, in that the evening had turned out to be a little more fun than expected. Keeping true to his promise, he had let her borrow some of his books while she recuperated at home. Tonight, he'd stopped by to pick up the finished book from her and to give her a new one in place. He found her alone at home doing a puzzle and when she asked if he wanted to stay for a bit, he couldn't refuse. More to the fact that he actually liked doing puzzles, he wasn't fond of the idea of her being alone while she was healing a bullet wound. In the case of an emergency, it would be better if someone was with her. It was also a better way to spend his free evenings. He had found himself drifting to JJ's home a lot more lately and he would like to give her couch a break. Aitana seemed to help distract him in a good way.

So, she allowed him to help her with her puzzle. Somehow along the way, it may have turned into an unspoken race to see who could finish it first. She did, apparently. It was all still very shocking to Spencer.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Aitana said in the end, offering him one genuine smile. "I may get a little competitive myself."

"Noo," Spencer feigned shock.

"But it's not often I can do it with puzzles!" she exclaimed. "My family doesn't do them and Elia thinks they're kind of stupid so I'm usually only competitive with myself. But now I have you!"

"Lucky me…"

"I'll stop," Aitana said, leading Spencer to laugh.

"No, it's fine. But you do know that I let you win, right?"

Aitana raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? You let me win?"

Spencer nodded, now growing his own smirk. "Sorry to tell you the truth, but you don't get a pass just because you have an injury."

Her 'ha!' echoed in the kitchen. "We'll just see about that," she warned. She reached for the puzzle box and pulled the lid open. "You know I have like a hundred more of these boxes, right?" She asked as she started dumping their finished puzzle into the box.

"Are they actually challenging?" Spencer was full blown proud of himself by this point. He couldn't tell if the incredulous shock on Aitana's face was real or not but he liked it either way.

"Oh, oh, it's on!" she pointed at him. "It is so on! Just you wait!"

"I look forward to it," he said, flashing her a casual smile that just irked her even more.

Before she said anything else, they heard the front door opening. Spencer didn't even have the time to consider the possibility of an intruder when a familiar voice called.

"Aitana?"

"Kitchen!" Aitana didn't look up from the puzzle she was dumping into the box.

Spencer recognized Angel when he walked into the room.

"We have visitors?" He looked at Spencer with some curiosity.

"Competition," Aitana corrected, shooting Spencer a little mock-glare.

Spencer smiled only briefly now. It was hard not to feel self conscious around Angel after everything that happened — things that almost happened. He was beginning to realize that he had actually spent quite a few hours with Aitana tonight. There was nothing wrong with it of course (they hadn't done anything wrong) but there was the senseless guilt gnawing at him anyways.

"I'm sorry, what was the name again?" Angel asked.

Spencer cleared his throat as he pulled himself up from his chair. "Spencer Reid," he could only wave a hand at Angel.

"I'm Angel, nice to see you again. Sorry, I forget just about everything."

"His head wouldn't be there if it wasn't attached," Aitana remarked and smirked when Angel shot her a look.

"Ignoring her," Angel pulled his attention off her a second later. "If you stayed with her voluntarily, I commend you."

"Uh, it was…" Spencer was naturally puzzled with the words. They seemed a little harsh, in his opinion.

Aitana rolled her eyes at the comment. "Don't mind him, he's extra rude when he comes home from work."

"I own a restaurant so I deal with a lot of people," Angel exhaled a heavy breath, his dark eyes widening as he probably thought of his day. "We had multiple big parties today, so..."

Spencer nodded. That sounded hectic and definitely not what he would want to do with his day. "I should get going," he said.

"What?" Aitana blinked in surprise. "But I said it was on! You can't leave once I say it's on!"

Spencer smiled at her. It was a whole other side he was seeing of her and it was very amusing.

"She is so competitive, don't mind her," Angel shook his head.

"I am not!"

"Right."

"It's fine, Aitana, you need to rest. Penelope really wants you to come back already." Spencer counted at least a dozen moments in which Penelope said those exact words. She had grown attached to Aitana working as co-liaison partners.

"Do you mean to tell me it's just Penelope who wants me back?" Aitana feigned offence. "Nobody else?"

"Of course we all want you back," Spencer amended his fault even if he didn't have any. "But to do that, you do need to rest."

Aitana sighed. "Fine, but you're not off the hook."

"God forbid you get off the hook," Angel reiterated with a small laugh to follow.

Aitana chose to ignore him. "Thanks for the books, Spencer. I'll take good care of them, I promise."

He had no doubt that she would. She was the most organized person in the team. "I'm glad they're helping with the boredom. I'll see you soon."

She nodded. "Yup!" If it was up to her, she'd already be back at the BAU.

"Bye." For some reason, Spencer left in a hasty manner like he was trying to get away. He was smart enough to know why but it was better to pretend to be confused. It saved him the embarrassment.

"I cannot believe you forced that poor guy to do a puzzle with you," Angel said as soon as they heard the front door close. "Seriously? Did you want to torture him like that?"

Aitana rolled her eyes as she finished placing the lid over her puzzle box. "Some people actually like doing puzzles and for your information, Spencer is one of them."

Angel snorted at the idea. "Why?" He headed for the kitchen cabinets.

"They're relaxing!"

"Not with you! Ten bucks says you got competitive with him." Angel paused to see Aitana's face and was more than pleased with himself to see her looking away with guilt. "I knew it." He snagged a glass from the cabinet and headed for the filter.

"It's not my fault," Aitana shrugged. "You and Mateo never wanted to do puzzles with me. I always did them by myself so now that I actually have a friend who likes to do puzzles, I want to keep my winning streak." Angel shook his head at her then drank water. "And I'm going to keep them, eidetic memory or not."

Angel snorted again, nearly choking on his water because of it. "It's not healthy to be that competitive, you know."

"It's fun." Aitana gathered her puzzle box and got out of her chair.

"You're going to run him off, you know!"

Aitana smirked. "Doubt it. He invited me to the movies Friday."

"Oh!" Angel barely made a face when Aitana added that it was a group invitation. It was nowhere near what he was thinking.

"There's a movie that Penelope wants to watch," Aitana said, shrugging her shoulders. "So there's your FYI. You better cook dinner yourself tonight."

Angel snorted then fully laughed. "When do you ever cook dinner for me!?"

Aitana rolled her eyes and decided to head upstairs for some relaxing reading. She did have something new to read after all.

~0~

On Friday, Aitana received an apology text from Penelope because they'd gotten a new case and their movie plans were unfortunately put on hold. Aitana sent back a response assuring her that she of course understood.

She spent the weekend moving around as much as she could without forcing herself too much. The idea was to slowly ease her body back to her old routine so she could finally go back to work.

She went around her room organizing her things. Her shelves had gathered dust from her bed rest days and her poor plants needed more of her attention. Even her fish tank downstairs got a well deserved cleaning. After she felt like her home was decent enough to live in, she got to reading the books Spencer let her borrow. He'd been so nice this whole recuperation time, letting her read from his personal shelves. She wasn't a big reader growing up, at least not out of her favorite subjects (space and marine life). And wouldn't you know it, the first book that Spencer let her borrow was a space fiction story. After that, Spencer started bringing her a few classics he thought she might like.

This time, it was Crime and Punishment. Aitana couldn't help her smile when she first saw the title. It turned out to be a book of moral dilemmas, reminding her of the trolley problem (which she would happily compare to when Spencer asked her about the book). It was fascinating and she couldn't wait to find out how it ended. She hoped to finish soon. She had an inkling fear that Spencer was too nice to tell her not to take too much time with his book. She learned well by now how he was with his things and she did not want to upset him by any means.

She was so deep into her book that she almost missed Penelope's text message on Sunday night.

Hey Sprinkles! I know it's a little late but I managed to convince the others to go to the movies! If you're interested, we can pick you up!

Aitana answered within the minute. Of course she was ready to go at any time. And even though she insisted on getting to the theater on her own, Penelope insisted that she should take it easy. Seaver would pick her up. And in an hour, Seaver was at her front step.

"You're going out?" Angel caught the pair unexpectedly just as they were getting ready to leave. "Kinda late, don't you think?"

"What are you? My mother?" Aitana playfully rolled her eyes.

"Well, I know Pamela wouldn't like it."

Seaver smiled at the pair. "It'll just be a movie," she assured Angel but Aitana scoffed.

"Please don't indulge him. He thinks he's so cool being an annoying big brother."

"It's a fun job," Angel said with a completely serious face. Seaver had to laugh.

"Goodbye!" Aitana ushered Seaver out so she could shut the door. "God I hate him sometimes!"

"He's funny," Seaver remarked on the way to her car. "I always wanted a sibling…"

"You want him?" Aitana gestured back to the house. "You can have him. Or Mateo, really. He's my other brother. Both of them are up for grabs, seriously."

Seaver laughed again. She unlocked the car so they could get in. "I just thought it would be fun having someone else in the house. A sibling would've made a big difference."

"I guess they would," Aitana would have to agree. As rowdy as her childhood had been with Mateo and Angel around, she couldn't fathom the idea of living as an only child. "It would be too quiet without them," she realized. "My house was always loud. Angel's my step brother so he wasn't always in our house. He came by every weekend but even then, it was still loud."

Seaver turned the ignition on and soon drove into the street. "You know my childhood," she said with a sigh. "It was so quiet at times. I could hear every little noise in the house."

"You didn't have friends over?" Aitana curiously asked. "I always had Elia over too."

Seaver shook her head. "Not a lot. My father didn't really like them coming over."

"Oh, sorry about that…"

Seaver didn't seem to think long about it. She had long ago learned to move past the troubles in her home.

"You're more than welcome to stop by my place anytime you want," Aitana promised, "As annoying as Angel is, he's actually really easy going. It's why we work as roommates."

"Looks like it," Seaver chuckled. "I've never met any pair of siblings willingly living together, honestly."

"Ah, well, there's a reason why we have this arrangement," Aitana admitted. "I, um, had a lot of trouble living by myself after coming out of WPP. My parents had been looking for a while to rent the house so they decided to let me rent it. And I know they didn't want to say it out loud but I knew that they didn't really trust me to live on my own yet. Angel offered to pay half the rent. I couldn't say no."

"I'm sorry about that too," Seaver said. "It's ironic how many different ways there are to ruin a person who's lived peacefully all their lives."

Aitana hummed in agreement. "I was different," she said. "I know that I'm better now but I also know that I will never be who I used to be, not with the things I saw and lived through."

"I can share that sentiment too," Seaver said and shared a small laugh with Aitana. "The things that my father did...I could never go back to being who I used to be before we found out what he was. And I tried…"

"Yeah, we always try," Aitana whispered, falling distant with the memories of her failed attempts to reintegrate into society after WPP. "I went through so many jobs within the FBI. The leniency they had with me...dear Lord."

"I changed my name," Seaver reminded lightly, exchanging a brief glance with Aitana. "I was naive for thinking I wouldn't have to do it. The stares that I used to get…"

Aitana sympathetically looked at the woman. That would have to be something hard to live with.

~0~

"They're parking," Penelope looked up from her phone to Morgan and Spencer. "We should start buying the tickets. Save Aitana the extra walk."

"Well, we could've avoided it altogether if someone had just postponed the plans for later," Morgan shot her a look. She was so eager, as usual, to go out even after what felt like the longest case.

"Shush," Penelope waved him off. "She's bored. And I want to see a movie!"

"Can't be that bored…" Morgan swayed his head in Spencer's direction, leaving the man little time to ready himself for the inevitable teasing, "Not when Pretty Boy over here is stopping by every night to see her." Penelope snickered between them.

"I am not!" Spencer frowned.

"But you have been several times," Morgan flashed him a smirk.

Spencer's eyes landed on Penelope, accusing her for all this. She should know better than to tell Morgan this kind of stuff. She had the decency to smile a little bashfully.

"So has Penelope, so has Seaver," he said as his genius defense.

"Yeah, but you're doing puzzles with her and lending her books…"

"Talking about fishes and space," Penelope decided to add, giggling when Spencer glared at her. "Oh c'mon, you guys talked for guys about her little space project for her fish tank! It was really cute!"

Spencer shook his head at the pair. It was all harmless talking and they knew it. He knew it. It was actually really fun getting to know more about Aitana's side projects at home. She was more in depth than anyone at the BAU would expect their liaison/profiler to be. For the past 7 months, she'd been thoroughly focused on healing and reintegrating, leaving very few moments to really get to know her. Now she was beginning to open up and she was turning out to be a very interesting person. She was huge on space and, by an odd extension, fishes. He even learned that she had been president of an astrology club in her old high school. She had more plants than she needed to, she was constantly on the hunt for new fishes for her tank, she liked to dance, and there was still much more to her. She was surprisingly competitive when it came to doing puzzles, though he should've seen that coming with her little playful point system with him. Her easy going nature provided for a comfortable atmosphere, a trusting atmosphere. It was easy talking to her and therefore spending time with her, even alone.

To say, she even made it a little easier to tell her more of the situation with his mother. He still felt guilty for lashing out at her on their last case and though she had every right to still be upset with him about it, she welcomed anything he wanted to talk about. Everything was nice, everything was easy. The last thing he needed was for it to shatter because of some incessant, baseless accusations. Everyone also seemed to conveniently forget that Aitana was very much in a relationship. That alone proved she was just a friend.

"Hey there Sprinkles," Penelope was the first to greet Aitana when she and Seaver joined them. They already had the tickets and were merely waiting for the group to be together.

"Hey," Aitana waved before hurriedly stuffing her hand into her pocket. She was a little cold. "You guys look like crap, no offence."

"Just because it's you, I'm going to let it go," Morgan sarcastically wagged a finger at her.

Aitana's small laugh was short but it appeared like she could laugh freely without feeling the pain of her wound now. "Spencer, still reading the book. Might hang onto it for a couple more days if that's alright."

"Take your time," he said. "And I always have more."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," she nodded, chuckling.

"More space?" Morgan asked with a healthy tease smile.

"Don't diss it," Aitana waved him off. Penelope started leading the way into the theater. "You know I was president of my astronomy club in high school?"

"And that's supposed to be cool?"

"It sounds cool to me," Seaver said, earning a grateful 'thank you' from Aitana.

"I even got us a camping trip to see the constellations! We saw Ursa Major on the first night, then Cepheus and Cassiopeia the following nights!"

"What? No shooting stars?" Morgan reached for the entry door first to hold for the others.

"Unfortunately, nothing fell from the sky those three days," Aitana dramatically sighed.

"You know, it's estimated that 60 tons of debris falls from space each day into our atmosphere," Spencer remarked.

Aitana scrunched her face at the fact. "I think I would've seen it."

He smiled. "A lot of it is microscopic particles that burn up when they enter the atmosphere."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, a lot of it ends up falling into the ocean."

"Those lucky fishes!"

Spencer laughed with her. From behind, Penelope nudged Morgan. She mouthed 'this is what I meant' to him, and consequently, Seaver. The two had a fairly amusing time understanding exactly what she meant.

~0~

"Unnecessary!" Penelope huffed as soon as they were out of the theater. Not even the chillier air could distract her from the deep disappointment of their movie. "There's too much blood and gore and eew!"

"Garcia, it's a slasher film," Spencer reminded her. "How do you do a slasher film without violence?"

"You imply it!"

"Baby, the movie is called "Slice 6." What were you expecting?" Morgan could barely hold his laugh for her sake.

"A refreshing beverage with a twist of comedy!?"

"That's what you got from the title?" Aitana made a face. "I would think the word 'slice' is a dead giveaway of what the genre was."

Penelope did not care for reason. "I'm gonna have nightmares for a week!"

"With everything that we do and see on a daily basis, that got to you?" Seaver had to ask because from a logical point, it didn't make sense.

"Listen, newbie, you may be all Sigourney Weaver ass-kicking tough, which is awesome, but the mystical mavens of innocence like myself jump at things that go bump in the night!"

"Why are you worried? I'm sure that Morgan will protect you," Spencer gestured to the man, though he added with a growing smirk: "As long as he's not jumping out of his chair like a prepubescent schoolgirl." The others snickered.

"The only reason I jumped is 'cause you guys woke me up," Morgan said.

"How could you sleep during that?" Aitana asked. Several people had screamed around them multiple times.

"Easy. They dragged me out after a 12-hour workday...for what? You telling me that girl didn't know that the unsub was waiting for her upstairs? Come on, now."

"Villain," Spencer corrected.

"What?"

"Villain. In movies, unsubs are called villains."

Morgan playfully rolled his eyes. "My bad."

"You want to know why horror movies are so successful?"

"Why is that, genius?"

"They prey on our instinctual need to survive. In tribal days, a woman's scream would signal danger and the men would return from hunting to protect their pack. That's why it's always the women and not the men who fall victim to the bogeyman."

"Count on you, Reid, to break a movie down to science," Seaver said with eyebrows raised. At this point, she shouldn't even be surprised.

"I don't know, if you ever meet my maternal grandmother, the boogeyman will seem scarier," Aitana said, causing an eruption of laughter from the group. "She's got a tough attitude if you cross her."

"Oh, so we know where you get it from then," Morgan smirked. "Spicy Sprinkles."

She rolled her eyes at him. She would keep in the fact her parents often said the same thing. He didn't need the extra ammunition.

"I actually like horror movies but I need to be mentally prepared for them," Penelope said, thankfully changing the topic. "My favorite thing about horror movies is the suspense factor."

"Ah, the ticking clock," Spencer hummed. "The helpless victim walks through the dark. Shadows reaching out to get her. A sudden noise draws her attention. Is someone there, or is it just in her head?"

"Still, it's totally unrealistic," Penelope said, "No one should be walking through a dark alley by themselves at night."

"Ahem, hello?" Morgan made a clear gesture to himself.

"Ah," Penelope immediately endeavored to fix her mistake, "No one should be walking through a dark alley without a Derek Morgan by their side."

"But the best part of a horror movie is you never know when the end is gonna come," Spencer said. Their movie had ended suddenly on them, leaving a big 'what if?' for the audience to leave with.

"Unfortunately, that's also how it goes in real life," Aitana said, folding her arms over her chest. She turned around to the group, smiling wryly at them. "And with that, I bid you all goodnight."

"Oh, what a lovely send off," Morgan remarked.

Aitana mocked a bow, almost losing it when Penelope exclaimed a sharp 'Oh my god!' and tried straightening her back up. "Your wound!" She reminded.

Aitana laughed. "Pen, I'm good. Doctor says that I'll be able to go back to work next Monday."

"That'll be good," Seaver nodded, "We really need you around."

"I'll be back, promise," Aitana raised a hand. "I can't wait, honestly."

"Well you take care of yourself," Penelope said, reaching over to close Aitana's coat. "We want you nice and healthy for Monday."

Aitana promised her that she would take care of herself. She was going crazy at home doing nothing. She couldn't wait to go back to work. She just hoped she didn't miss anything important in the meantime. She also hoped that the first case back would be an easier one to prove for sure that she was just fine.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Swimming Lessons.

(1-1)

Short story # 9

2,350 - Words

Fandom - Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing - John Marston X Reader

Summary - Based entirely on Imagine # 662, which reads. imagine taking it upon yourself to teach John how to swim.

Warnings - Light smut, its just a handjob. (Cause I'm a horny bitch, especially when it come to Mr. John Marston.)

----

Looking to her left (Y/n) began snickering quietly when she noticed John snacking away on candy. "What?" John cocked a confused brow at her, still munching away. "You and your candy." (Y/n) shook her head with a grin. "What, I like 'em." John frowned, hesitating his chewing. "Oh nothing, I think it's sweet." (Y/n) joked making John roll his eyes playfully. "Ya got any to spare for your favorite girl?" (Y/n) hummed as she rode beside him, batting her lashes. "Oh I don't give Grace candy." John retorted as he pat his horses mane, his words making (Y/n) huff with a frown. "I see how it is." (Y/n) crossed her arms, spurring her horse into a trot. "Now hold on darling." John called out spurring on his own horse. "I was only playin' sugar." John nudged her shoulder, holding out a few pieces of candy. "And here I am, going out of my way to help you. And what do I get in return, the nerve of some people." (Y/n) sassed turning her nose up at his offer, a fit of giggles erupting from her when John practically pulled her onto his lap, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry darlin'." John whispered into her hair as he nuzzled into her neck. "Oh alright, I forgive you." (Y/n) sighed playfully, adjusting herself back onto her horse, afterwards leaning over to plant a kiss on John's scared cheek. "Here sugar." John hummed as he grasped her hand, pushing a few pieces of candy into the palm of her hand. "Awe thanks honey." (Y/n) cooed making John chuckle at her, smiling contently as they continued their journey.

--

A few hours had passed and the sun was beginning to set. "We're almost there, but the path isn't the safest to travel at night, we should set up camp then continue in the morning." (Y/n) suggested. "Alright." John agreed with a nod of his head. "Where you wanting to set up?" John asked as they trotted across a bridge. "There's a clearing up ahead, looks like a good a spot as any." (Y/n) pointed to the clearing in the distance. "Sounds like a plan." John agreed as they neared the sight. "Where is it your wanting to go tomorrow?" John asked with curiosity. "Dodds bluff just south of widows Rock, there's an abandoned shack we can set up in." (Y/n) answered his question. "Why there?" John asked with curiosity. "Several reasons, one because the water up there is beautiful, and always a comfortable temperature in the summer, plus we're far away from our friends, so you don't have to worry about them teasing us." (Y/n) explained as they moved from the road to the grass to find the best spot to set up camp. "What exactly are we doing, that they would tease us about?" John eyed his girlfriend wearily. "I'm gonna teach you how to swim finally." (Y/n) stated as she dismounted, her words causing John to freeze up. "Swim?" He muttered in worry. "Yes John, swim." (Y/n) laughed softly as she unpacked her things. "I-I um..." John stammered nervously. "John sweetie, we'll take it slow I promise." (Y/n) assured him as she approached his side, resting a reassuring hand onto his knee. John smiled softly, his heart melting. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." John whispered softly, his confession making (Y/n) blush under his tender gaze.

--

"So darling, how long you plannin' on us staying out here?" John asked as they sat up the camp, one tent for them, and the other to keep their supplies dry if it rains in the night. "However long it takes until your able to swim on your own confidently." (Y/n) hummed as she moved on to feed the horses some grain. "That could take awhile." John chuckled nervously. "That's okay, I let Arthur and Dutch know we wouldn't be back for awhile." (Y/n) shrugged casually. "How'd you manage that?" John asked as he finished up the last of the work. "I found a few gold bars while out exploring, and I donated two of them." (Y/n) hummed as she brushed her horse, John joining her to brush his own horse. "How many did you find?" John asked with astonishment, both surprised and impressed that she found any gold bars to begin with. "Four." (Y/n) smiled at him, a certain gleam in her eyes. "And what are you planning on doing with the other two?" John asked with a curious gaze. "Well someone real special has a birthday coming up." (Y/n) mused with a playful grin, making John feel all giddy inside like a little kid. "Darlin' you're just to much sometimes." John shook his head with a smile, making (Y/n) giggle softly. "You love me for it." (Y/n) shrugged, gasping when John hugged her from behind. "I love you for more than that baby girl." John cooed as he nuzzled into her soft hair, inhaling her natural scent.

--

When morning came around (Y/n) was practically bouncing with excitement, while John sluggishly followed after her. Having broke down camp and packed up, the couple continued their journey. The small road they took seep and narrow in some spots, making John understand why they didn't risk riding on last night. "There's the shack." (Y/n) pointed to the little shanty, a wide smile upon her pretty face. "The water looks kinda fast." John pointed out as they neared the small building. "It's slower upstream." (Y/n) hummed as she dismounted her horse. "If you say so." John murmured skeptically. "Are you sure no one lives here?" He added as he dismounted. "Yeah I've come up here a hundred times, no one's ever here." (Y/n) shrugged while unpacking their supplies. John wasn't convinced however and removed his bolt action rifle from his saddle, approaching the house first. "Let me just check first." John explained when (Y/n) eyed him funny. "Oh alright." She smiled up at him before he turned his attention to the door, which he pushed open slowly with his rifle. Humming with satisfaction John turned back to (Y/n), shouldering his rifle. "You were right, it's abandoned." He walked down the steps of the porch, taking the supplies from (Y/n)'s hands to take inside. "I would say I'm always right, but you've proven me wrong plenty of times." (Y/n) laughed as they continued their work, her words making John chuckle. "Oh you mean like that time you thought you wouldn't like it when I stick my-" (Y/n) threw an apple at him, cutting him off. "Yes John, like then." She sassed with pinkness in her cheeks, making John laugh a hardy laugh. "You walked funny for three days, but not once did you complain." He teased with a grin, making (Y/n) whine as she hid her face in her hands. "Can we please stay on task here?" She groaned between her fingers, making John beam with pride. "Sure thing sugar." He mused into her ear, relishing in the sight of her shuddering from his voice alone.

--

After everything was dealt with, and the horses tended to (Y/n) led John a little ways upstream. "Are you sure about this?" John asked as they began stripping out of the majority of their clothes. "What of someone sees us?" He added with a nervous glance. "We're far from the main road, and people don't really use this road. We'll be fine, and even if someone sees, it doesn't matter. What we're doing is none of their business." (Y/n) assured her lover, pecking his lips to comfort him. "Hey I want a real kiss." John pouted as he followed after (Y/n), who was now hip deep in water, having gone into the small stream that connects into to river. "Then come get it cowboy." (Y/n) teased as John stood on the back, having an internal debate. Gathering his courage he made up his mind, and began walking into the shallow stream. "The things I do for love." John huffed when he reached (Y/n), his hands instinctively resting on her hips. "I've got you baby." (Y/n) hummed before connecting their lips, the sweet feeling of her lips against his detracting him from his fear of the water. John's grip tightened when she began walking backwards into deeper water, their lips still connected in a passionate kiss. "Wait." John broke the kiss with a strained voice, looking at the water beyond her shoulder. "Hey John look at me." (Y/n) grasped his face between her hands, turning his attention solely to her. "Do you trust me?" She asked as she peered into his dark eyes. "Of course I trust you, I trust you with my life." John proclaimed with a series tone, knowing she'd never hurt him or betray his trust. "Follow me, and stay focused on me, I'll keep you safe." (Y/n) smiled softly, slowly walking back towards the river. John nodded his head, his grasp on her hips still tight as he followed her obediently. His breath came out shaky as he breathed through his mouth, his eyes still locked onto (Y/n)'s. With each careful step they moved deeper and deeper into the water, until the water rest now at chest height. "How you doing John?" (Y/n) asked as she stroked his hair back, smiling at him reassuringly. "I'm alright, just need a moment." He admitted his hands noticeably shaking against her hips. "Take all the time you need baby." (Y/n) cooed as she leaned forward, catching his lips to distract his mind.

When they broke for air John had relaxed quite a bit, now ignoring the sounds of rushing water, he focused solely on the woman before him. "I love you." He murmured softly, so touched that she wanted to take the time to teach him how to swim, something no one else had ever tried. "I love you too John." (Y/n) leaned into his chest, resting her head into the crook of his neck. They stood their in a relaxed tranquil state in the water, allowing John the time he needed to truly relax. "Let's keep going." He suggested softly. "How about we stay here, so you know you can stand up if you begin to panic." (Y/n) countered his suggestion, slowly lowering herself into the cool water until she was on her knees. "Okay." John muttered to himself as he followed suit, slowly lowering himself. "You're doing good." (Y/n) praised when he finally sank down before her, the water now up to his neck. "I'm terrified." John admitted with a shaky voice, wrapping his arms around (Y/n)'s hips now. "Relax sugar, I'm here." (Y/n) hummed as she rubbed his back soothingly, smiling when his back muscles relaxed under her touch. "You know I might just have to reward you for doing so good." (Y/n) mused with a suggestive tone, her words causing John's breath to hitch in his throat. "R-really?" He stammered with surprise, his excitement building in an instant at the lewd thoughts popping into his head. "Yeah." (Y/n) hummed softly, one hand slowly drifting under the water, and down his body. "(Y/n)." John murmured quietly, his cock hardening as her fingers brushed against it. "All for me?" (Y/n) smirked before slipping her hand into his underwear, grasping his manhood by the base, and giving it a gentle squeeze. "All for you." John nodded his head in agreement, his hips thrusting forward, desperate for more friction.

(Y/n) giggled softly as she began stroking his length, rubbing her thumb against the underside of his cock firmly, from time to time. John's mind went hazy with pleasure, his eyes closing as he rest his forehead against (Y/n)'s shoulder. "Just relax baby, I'll take care of you. Make you feel good." (Y/n) cooed and then began peppering his face and neck with kisses. "So good." John praised quietly, unaware of his surroundings anymore. (Y/n) twisted her wrist while brushing her fingers across the tip of John dick, causing a shutter to run down his back. John hissed in pleasure his cock throbbing with need, twitching a little as he neared his end. "Cum for me honey." (Y/n) encouraged picking up her pace, the erratic movements of her arm, made the water slosh around them. "(Y-Y/n)!" John stammered in a moan, ropes of cum spurting from his cock as he came undone for her. "Good job baby." (Y/n) praised her lover, still stroking his cock slowly, working him through his euphoric high. "(Y/n)." John murmured her name, pecking sloppy kisses against her neck. "John my sweet sweet John." She cooed tilting his head up to look into his eyes. "You didn't even notice." She added with a playful smile, her words causing John to take in his surroundings. His heart froze for a moment when he realized they were now much deeper in the river, his feet just barely able to touch the bottom. "See John, swimming ain't so bad." (Y/n) brushed his hair back softly, smiling at him warmly when he noticeably calmed. "Y-yeah I guess you're right." John smiled remaining relaxed when (Y/n) moved back a little, allowing him to float on his own. "It's kinda fun actually." John chuckled as he got the hang of swimming in place. "It is." (Y/n) agreed with pure joy, beyond happy to have taught John Marston how to swim. The couple spent the next three days swimming, and the next four nights making sweet love under the stars, and within the privacy of the little shack. Only leaving when John felt comfortable with swimming. The pair of them worn by the time they got back to camp, Arthur watching them excuse themselves straight to bed with a knowing smile.

[fruitcoops]

i would love to read coops doing one of those lie detector youtube videos!!

This was such a fun fic to research! I highly recommend watching the Try Guys Lie Detector videos if you'd like some context. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Why are there so many of these?” Remus muttered, shaking his hand around. A series of multicolored wires smacked the table and Marlene rolled her eyes as she passed. “Sorry.”

“Welcome back to Lion Pride!” Sirius said as he turned to the camera with a smile. “I’m Sirius Black, and I’m here today with my husband, Remus Lupin, to get some answers.”

“We are also joined by Mark, who is an expert at reading polygraphs,” Remus added.

A middle-aged man in a blue shirt raised his hand in a slight wave. “Thanks for having me. Since you’re already hooked up, you’ll be going first. This machine measures your sweat, your heart rate, and a couple other common tells for liars. Do you lie often?”

Remus hesitated; Sirius hid a smile in his hand. “No, since I suck at lying, but I’ll do it if it makes somebody feel better. I think I’m pretty good at that.”

They stared at the polygraph for a moment before Mark nodded. “Checks out. Take it away, Sirius.”

Sirius cleared his throat and took a notecard from his stack. “Was going to college worth it?”

“Yes,” Remus answered almost immediately. “I don’t know what I would have done without getting my degree and staying close to hockey. Wouldn’t have met you, for one.”

“True,” Mark said without looking up.

“Do you like my playoff beard?”

“I do, yeah.” Mark raised his eyebrows and Remus pressed his lips together. “Okay, sometimes it’s a little much, but you’re pretty good about keeping things under control.”

“Alright,” Sirius said with playful skepticism. “Good to know. Who’s your favorite Lion?”

“Besides you? Talker.”

“Yeah, we don’t need a polygraph to know that,” Sirius laughed when Mark nodded. “Did you like my last haircut?”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus said under his breath, looking away.

“I knew it.”

“It wasn’t bad—”

“He’s lying,” Mark interrupted.

Remus turned to him with betrayal written all over his expression. “Dude!”

“You are.”

“Answer the question, Loops,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. “How did you feel about my last haircut?”

He bit his lower lip. “It was a little too short and really threw me off for a couple days. But you didn’t like it, either.”

“I didn’t,” Sirius agreed, grinning. “But I vividly remember several ‘no, honey, you look great’ conversations.”

“Next question,” Remus sighed.

“Ha! This one is self-explanatory. Have you ever lied to me?”

“Yes, but only when I knew it would make you feel better.”

“True,” Mark confirmed.

“Do you think you’re a better dog owner than me?”

Remus thought for a moment. “No.”

“True.”

“Do you think I’m a better dog owner than you?” Sirius asked.

“No. I think we balance each other well, and we wouldn’t be as good apart.”

“True again.”

“Interesting.” Sirius surveyed the cards. “Do you trust me?”

“A hundred percent,” Remus answered without hesitation. Mark nodded.

“Do you think I would be a good dad?”

He rested his chin on his hand, then smiled a little. “I do, yeah. I think you know what to do and what notto do, and you’re very protective without being controlling. So, yeah. You’d be a good dad.”

Mark glanced over. “He’s telling the truth.”

Sirius leaned across the table and kissed Remus on the cheek. “Merci. Oh, this’ll be fun. Is any of our relationship just for show, especially on Lion Pride?”

Remus narrowed his eyes with a hum. “Yes and no.”

“Pick one,” Mark said.

“In a general sense? Yeah, sure. We’re not perfect all the time, but we pretend to be. The specifics stay honest, though. None of our relationship is based on building clout. We keep the core genuine.”

The polygraph beeped for a moment. “He’s telling the truth.”

“This one is super morbid. Ready?” Sirius rested his elbows on the table. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds Jules. Which one do you drop?”

“I love you, but I would absolutely drop you,” Remus said after only a brief period of thought.

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius huffed. “I would be so upset if it was the other way around.”

“Right? I love you more than anything, but it’s Jules.”

Remus turned to Mark, who shrugged. “True.”

“Do you think we live together well?” Sirius asked.

“After a full year of it?” Remus laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

“True.”

Sirius checked the list and his eyebrows rose. “You’re going to hate this one.”

“Am I?”

“What do you really think about my parents?”

Remus’ smile turned thin and Sirius spread his hands in a see? motion. He was quiet for a few seconds, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to use those words on this channel. Um, I don’t like them.”

Mark snorted. “Very true.”

“Last one,” Sirius warned, though his eyes crinkled happily at the edges. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“That’s cute,” Remus said. “And…yeah. I think I do.”

“Wrong,” Sirius said before Mark could answer. “You have absolutely no idea.”

“Sap,” Remus scoffed. His cheeks were pink, and he pressed a quick kiss to Sirius’ temple while they swapped chairs.

“He was telling the truth,” Mark informed them as he helped Remus untangle his arm and hand, then transferred the devices to Sirius. “Though I am interested to see the flipside. Do you lie often?”

“Not anymore. I’m pretty good at it, though.”

“First one: have you ever had a crush on one of your teammates?”

“Oh, for sure,” Sirius said with a light laugh. “I never did anything about it, but I was the king of pining for a solid decade.”

“True,” Mark affirmed.

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “Who is the handsomest Lion?”

Sirius bit his lip, making a thoughtful noise. “That’s a tough one. I’m assuming a player other than you?”

“Yes.”

“In that case…I think Dumo is the classic definition of ‘handsome’ even though he is so not my type, but Kasey might be the most attractive.”

“Not Pots?” Remus teased. Sirius pulled a face and flicked him on the arm.

“He’s being honest,” Mark said.

“Do you think you’re the best player on the team?”

“…no.”

“He’s lying.”

“Shit.” Sirius sighed heavily as Remus looked at him over the edge of his notecard. “Look, it’s—it’s not an ego thing.”

“It’s the captain thing, isn’t it?” Remus sounded quite amused.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, defeated. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Mark nodded. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Oh, another parent one,” Remus remarked. “Did my parents scare you?”

“Not really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “You’re right in the middle.”

“Huh.” He thought for a few seconds. “I think seeing you all together was a lot like meeting Dumo’s family the first time. You’re just so…normal. And you genuinely like each other. So I wasn’t scared, but it was definitely an adjustment.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they adore you. I’m glad we didn’t chase you off, though. Does it really bother you that I leave my socks around the house?”

Sirius pressed his lips together as several people off-screen began to laugh. “I can’t answer that.”

“See, that’s all the answer I need.”

“Fine. Yes, but only because I don’t know where you get them from. You don’t actually own that many socks, and I still find them every-fucking-where.”

“True,” Mark said.

“I’ll try to keep a better eye on things,” Remus assured him, smiling. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds James. Which one do you drop?”

“Goddammit,” Sirius muttered, tilting his head back. He thought for a long, long moment. “I can’t answer that.”

The polygraph buzzed. “False.”

Sirius shook his head. “Neither of you. I wouldn’t drop either.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “True.”

“On a much lighter note,” Remus said with a cough. “Which of us is lazier?”

“Me.”

“True.”

“Really?” Remus gave him a baffled look. “You work so hard all the time.”

Sirius shrugged. “Agree to disagree?”

“Fine, but I hope you know taking time for yourself doesn’t mean you’re lazy.” He shuffled through the cards. “Oh, this’ll be very interesting. Do you think I talk too much?”

“No.”

“True.”

Remus sat back in his chair, a pleased blush coloring his cheeks. “Wasn’t expecting that. Good answer, I love you. Do you think we’ll get divorced someday?”

“Oh, god, no.” Sirius’ previous self-satisfaction turned to revulsion. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“True,” Mark said again. “For someone who said he was good at lying, you’re very honest.”

“No point in lying with that thing around, is there?”

Remus shrugged. “Saves time, for sure. Have you kissed any of our friends?”

“Yeah,” he snorted.

To his credit, Mark didn’t even let a smile slip through. “True.”

“Do you enjoy getting stopped in public by fans?”

“Fans, yes. Ex-fans who take it upon themselves to explain why I shouldn’t be gay, no.” He paused, then shook his head with a smile. “I’m not good at talking to people, but I do like it when people say hello. It’s cool.”

“True.”

Remus raised his notecards. “Two left, and the first one is hella morbid.”

“Hella,” Sirius murmured, earning himself a teasing glare.

“Watch it. If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?”

The playfulness dropped away. “What?”

“If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?” Remus repeated.

Sirius looked horrified by the very thought. “I wouldn’t.”

“True,” Mark said, seemingly uncaring about the alarm on Sirius’ face.

“Even if it happened tomorrow?”

“First of all, thanks for my new nightmare. Second, no. I wouldn’t get married again.” He kissed Remus’ forehead gently. “Let’s not test that, though. Like ever.”

“Deal. Ready for the last one?”

“As long as nobody else is in danger of death.”

“I dunno, it’s a tough one.” Remus gave him a solemn look across the table. “I need you to be really honest with me on this one. Do you think you have better hair?”

Sirius blinked at him, then burst out laughing. Even Mark’s lips twitched into a suppressed smile. “Oh my god.”

“What’s so funny?” Remus asked, completely poker-faced. “This is important, honey. I’m really counting on you to be genuine with me here—”

“You can’t even—” Sirius broke off again and gestured to Remus’ face, which turned steadily pinker as he bit down a grin. “You can’t even keep a straight face.”

“My face is the only straight thing about me. You know this. Answer the question.”

“He’s trying so hard,” Sirius managed as he looked to the camera. “So hard, mon dieu.”

“Shit,” Remus muttered as he finally gave in and hid his laughter in the crook of his elbow. “We were doing so well until now! It’s the last question, just answer it!”

Sirius wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and nodded. “I do think I have better hair, but I love yours, too.”

Mark chuckled. “True.”

“It would help if you finally got a haircut that was different from the one you’ve had since you were thirteen.”

Remus closed his eyes, sighing. “Y’know, exposing my haircut choices for the entire internet to mock really wasn’t how I planned this day going.”

“Isn’t that the point of this whole video?”

“Mark, I’m not sure if we owe you an apology or not, but thank you for putting up with us.” Remus turned back to the camera with an easy smile. “Thanks for joining us today, everyone. Make sure to like and subscribe to Lion Pride for more videos like this!”

[cuquitalocita]

nothing like customer service |rowaelin month- day 1|

rowaelin masterlist

an: starting it off with a requested part two (prequel??) to this fic. hope you all enjoy and happy rowaelin month!

word count: 3,406

~~

Of two things, Rowan Whitethorn was one-hundred percent certain. 

One: he never should have applied for college if it meant getting a job like this to stay afloat.

Two: he didn’t get paid nearly enough to deal with customers like the woman in front of him. 

It was six in the morning, Rowan wagered. It probably wasn’t the woman’s fault she was so cranky. But it most definitely was her fault that she was choosing to take it out on Rowan on only his second day of work at the local cafe near campus. 

Rowan sighed, attempting not to show his rising frustration with the black-haired woman who had confronted him moments before, yelling with all she was worth. The sun wasn’t even out yet.

“Ma’am I-”

“Maeve.” Rowan allowed his posture to drop a smidge as his boss’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. The smaller man had to step beside Rowan to even be seen but by the raise of his brows, it was clear Malakai was familiar with the woman. “What seems to be the problem this morning?” 

The tense smile Malakai wore faded as Maeve turned her dark gaze on him, her eyes glittering. “It seems your new hire is quite useless, Malakai,” she hissed. “Can’t even make a simple cup of coffee.” 

Rowan was trying his best not to growl as Maeve locked eyes with him once more and gave him a cold smile. She knew damn well he hadn’t been the one making coffee. But it seemed this woman just wanted to see the world burn. Rowan knew something else he wanted to see burn too. 

“That would be my fault, I’m afraid.”

Rowan nearly jumped at the new feminine voice that sounded behind Maeve, clearly belonging to another woman. He didn’t need to see her to know she was younger, her voice almost musical compared to the deep rasp of Maeve’s. 

He stayed still as Maeve was lightly pushed to the side, revealing a girl he knew to be about his age. Rowan swore his breath caught in his throat as he took her in, wondering how he hadn’t noticed her on campus.

She was absolutely stunning. 

Golden blonde hair ran down her shoulders and covered her head with a beanie, just showing the red tips of her ears due to the fall wind and the tips of her cheeks and nose were stained red from the cold as well, almost making it impossible to see her freckles if one hadn’t been focused on her face. 

Rowan was. 

But what truly caught his gaze were her eyes. Bluer than he had ever seen before, he was just able to make out the golden ring around her pupils which somehow emphasized the pink of her lips. 

She smiled easily as if there was a single thing about Maeve that was even remotely amusing, and shot Malakai a knowing look. Unsurprisingly, her smile was truly breathtaking. 

The girl pointed to the coffee in Maeve’s hand- apparently loaded with enough cream and sugar to “kill a small animal” and locked eyes with Maeve. “I wasn’t paying attention when they called the order number and it seems you grabbed mine. I believe this-” she held up a small cup of coffee that looked jet black. “-is yours.”

“Miss Galathynius.” Maeve seemed to almost hissed the words. “Isn’t it a bit too early for me to be dealing with you this morning?” 

The girl didn’t balk, only raised a single brow in amusement as she adjusted the beanie on her head. “Always a pleasure running into you, Professor.” The small smile she wore would have infuriated Rowan had he been on the receiving end of it. Instead, it had him biting his tongue to keep from laughing as he looked between the women in front of him. 

He knew Maeve had looked familiar. He now recognized her as the statistics professor at the University. 

“Well,” Maeve didn’t respond to her. She turned back to Rowan with a glare that had him sitting up straight, his face unwavering. “Apparently you owe me a new coffee and I’ll be on my way.” She addressed the young man behind Rowan who quickly burst into action, a look of sheepish guilt on his face. 

Rowan handed her the coffee quickly enough and Maeve was headed to the door. She turned back to the blonde woman, shoving her sweet coffee into her hands with enough forced to knock over a small person or severely warn her had the coffee not been capped.

“I expect to see you in class this afternoon, Miss Galathynius.” The saccharine smile the girl returned held a spark of mischief. “That is if you deign to show up.” 

“I’ll be the one with a pen in my hand.” 

The bell rang out loud as the door smacked shut behind her. Rowan shook a little as some of the fall wind went up his back.

“Bitch.” Rowan barely heard the muttered word uttered by the woman in front of him. 

His head whipped around as he took in her eyes that were glued to the door that had just shut.

“Aelin…” Rowan had forgotten Malakai was even behind him. He turned to see the older man watching her with a warm smile. She returned it with a sheepish smile of her own as if caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, even though she sounded anything but. 

The girl- Aelin finally turned to Rowan, pinning him with her blue gaze. She gave him a polite smile and it was made very clear to him that this woman could have anyone wrapped around her finger in a matter of moments. It slightly infuriated him. She was probably one of those people who believed she was entitled to everything in the world around her. That she could bat her pretty lashes and it would be done. 

“Can I just get a blueberry muffin?” She held up the coffee Maeve had shoved into her hand. “I guess I already have my coffee.” 

“Not thanks to you,” Malakai chirped as he walked back behind the counter. “I wonder, Aelin, do you go out of your way to infuriate the poor woman?”

Aelin looked ready to burst as she bit her lip and looked down at her feet, shaking her head. “Nope. That’s just a perk.” 

Malakai snorted as Rowan rang up her order. 

She made to pull out her wallet to pay but was stayed by Malakai’s hand. She glared at the older man as he waved off the cash. “Malakai-”

“No, Aelin, what have I said?”

“But I don’t work here anymore! I should pay just like everyone-” 

“And you have,” he insisted, shaking his head with a tone of finality. “Time and time again. Now take your muffin and get out of my new hire’s face.” 

Rowan jerked at the mention of him and Aelin smirked as she looked at him, her gaze running over his body. “Trust me,” she scoffed. “I bet he’d love for me to be in his face.” 

Luca choked on whatever he was eating as a dark blush attacked Rowan’s face. He attempted to cover it up as he leveled her with an unimpressed look. “Not likely, Princess. Don’t you have a class to go to?” 

“Couldn’t I ask you the same thing?” she replied. 

“That doesn’t concern you.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Then why does my answer concern you?” 

Rowan shrugged. “It doesn’t. But if Maeve’s reaction to you was any sign, you need all the academic help you can get.” 

In what seemed like a second, the playful girl in front of him was gone. Her blue eyes hardened and she scoffed a cold sound, ruffling back into her purse and pulling out a small handful of coins. She dumped them furiously into the tip jar. 

“For the great service,” she snapped. 

She was out the door without taking her muffin. 

~~

Surprisingly enough, Aelin was back the next morning, ordering the same shock-inducing coffee with the same bright smile on her face. But this time it was Luca at the register, and the stumbling boy seemed to be in a wonderful conversation with her before she turned to Malakai. 

“Maeve’s a bitch,” was all she said.

“Takes one to know one,” Luca chipped in from his spot by the register. Aelin shot the boy a venomous glare that quickly had him turning back to the customer in front of him. Rowan hid his smile as he gave her his back. 

“Oh shut up, Luca. You’re not even out of high school yet.” 

Aelin threw her hands up in frustration, her blue eyes sparkling with a look Rowan was starting to think about more and more often. “What am I supposed to do? I’m an arts and humanities major!” 

“I think you can deal with Maeve for another semester and then never see her again,” Malakai said unhelpfully. 

“If I don’t set her classroom on fire first,” she muttered, causing Rowan to bite his tongue. There was no doubt in his mind that Aelin would do it. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I better get going if I want to make it to Hammel’s class on time. Thanks for the coffee again.” She raised herself out of the stool.

Before she could make her way to the door, Rowan shoved a bag into her hand, his face stoic. Her eyes flared with indignance before seeming to check herself. 

She eyed it warily before taking it gently and gazing inside. Aelin eyed him with pure bemusement.

“A blueberry muffin,” Rowan stated. She raised her brows once more.

“I can see that.” She placed a few coins in the tip jar. 

~~

It was times like these that Rowan was sure he wanted to quit his job. 

A young college girl stood in front of him sporting ridiculous-looking pigtails and a University sweater, and Rowan was more than sure he wouldn’t feel bad if he were to kick her out at that very moment. 

It was the third time this week the annoying brunette had decided something was wrong with her order and felt the need to comment on it. Rowan could admit that she had been quite polite about it, but he couldn’t care less when they were in the middle of another morning rush. 

“Luca,” he barked out, causing the teenager to spin around quickly with wide eyes. “Make me a small caramel latte. Quickly,” he enforced as he set to work. Rowan turned back to the girl in front of him as Luca shoved the new coffee into his hand. 

He gave her the coffee along with her money back and watched with rigid stillness as the girl tipped him and turned to leave the coffee shop.

Aelin watched him from her table in the corner, shaking with silent laughter at his tense shoulders. By the time the bell rang signaling the girl had left the shop, Aelin was holding a new blueberry muffin in her hand and gazing at the doorway. She turned back to Rowan as his jaw seemed ready to snap.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” He met her gaze with a raised silver brow. 

“For what?” he snapped. “She complained. For the third time this week.” Aelin threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh, not for the order,” she smirked. “I meant for tolerating you.” Her blue eyes twinkled. Rowan turned back to prepare another order so she couldn’t see the twitch of his lips that almost looked like a smile. 

~~

It was another four days before Rowan saw her again.

She was back later than usual- this time in the afternoon on a Wednesday, and the cafe is basically empty apart from a few other college students. Unlike them, she gravitated straight to the bar top and dropped all of her heavy textbooks with a loud huff. 

“I don’t suppose you’d mind being an accomplice to arson?” she mused. Rowan was glad she couldn’t see the smile on his face as he prepared a coffee with his back to her. 

“Only if I get to light the flame,” he deadpanned as he handed the coffee off to the student it belonged to. He watched as Aelin dropped her textbook before catching it with her other hand.

“I’m sorry-” she choked out a laugh. “Did you just make… a joke?” Rowan said nothing but gestured to the clear cabinet of pastries in front of him, asking her what she wanted. Aelin pointed to a blueberry muffin in the window cabinet. Rowan bagged the muffin silently, pretending not to notice Aelin’s gaze on him or the insistent yearning to look at her. He handed her the muffin and Aelin took it without a word, the two working in silence until Aelin shoved her textbooks back into her backpack and dropped a few coins into the tip jar. 

Rowan’s words stopped her with her hand on the door handle.

“Thank you.” 

~~

It’s raining the next morning Rowan sees her. Fall was finally in full swing and Rowan had taken to wearing long sweatshirts that covered up most of the tattoo in his arm to keep him warm, much to Luca’s dismay. The kid claimed it was ‘way too cool to cover.’ 

Aelin walked in around her usual time, closing her umbrella with a large snap, and barely acknowledged Rowan as she walked up to the counter.

“Same as usual?”

Her response was a small silent nod and Rowan set to work, enjoying the amiable silence between them. But it was strange for Aelin. She was usually so chipper in the mornings and usually, she was the main thing that woke him up. He didn’t think he liked quiet Aelin. 

“Are you…” he cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

Aelin’s eyes shot up to his own, surprise coating her features at his out-of-character question. She paused the movements of her fingers as she looked at him before shaking her head and continuing. 

“Yeah,” she shrugged, smiling a little bit. “I just hate the rain. It’s so glum.” 

“Nah.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them. “Rain is pretty cool actually. It’s like… a reminder. That the world isn’t always pretty. And yet it still goes on another day.” 

The look of shock coating Aelin’s features had Rowan immediately feeling insecure and he realized he hadn’t meant to speak so honestly. But as Aelin’s smile softened, and she placed a few coins into the tip jar, Rowan allowed his own to turn up at the corners. 

Maybe he hadn’t regretted it.

~~

“All good customers today?” she asked. Aelin had returned during yet another afternoon during a rare time for her, with a sweet smile on her perfect face. Rowan groaned as she dropped a few coins into the tip jar.

“I think I’d like to take you up on that arson offer.” 

~~

Aelin is brooding today, Rowan notices the next morning as she glared down at the thick red ‘D’ on her paper. She had walked in without her usual brightness, her smiles dim, and her small talk bland. Rowan was too much of a coward to admit it more than bothered him. 

He observed her silently and ignored her glare, simply glancing between her face and her paper before clearing his throat. 

“You look beautiful today. I mean, not that you don’t look beautiful every day but…” Rowan didn’t think he had ever floundered for words harder in his life. He could feel a deep blush creeping up the back of his neck but was more than happy to see the tension in Aelin’s shoulders drop as a girlish smile covered her face. He wasn’t counting, but he swore she dropped more coins than usual today. 

Rowan waited until the door shut behind her before he gazed out the window, more than pleased to see a matching blush on her own cheeks as well.

~~

It had been a week.

An entire week since Rowan had last seen her, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t bothering him. It was damn near embarrassing how often he perked up at the ring of the door every time someone walked in, only for them to slump back down when he realized it wasn’t the blonde he had been expecting. 

It was the middle of the day, the cafe relatively empty as Rowan gazed pathetically at the unmoving door. He jerked up as Malakai slammed down a tray of blueberry muffins next to him. He looked at the younger man and sighed. 

“It’s her finals week,” he said as if that explained everything. 

“Hmm?”

“She has her statistics final tomorrow and I told her to stay away and study. That’s why you haven’t seen her.”

“She can study here,” he couldn’t help but point out. Malakai only rolled his eyes.

“I hate to break it to you Rowan, but you aren’t the only one who gets distracted when she studies here.” The blush was back attacking the back of his neck in full force and Rowan turned away and began restocking the muffins. 

The thought had crossed his mind more than once- if what he and Aelin had could be anything more than just friends. But he had dismissed the thought as quickly as it had appeared. He liked Aelin- she was kind and funny and hardworking from what Rowan could tell. 

“You know she’d say yes,” Malakai supplied knowingly.

“What?” Rowan pretended to brew some more coffee.

“To… whatever it is that’s going on between you two. She wouldn’t say no, Rowan.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he did know. The fact had hit him in the face like a truck at high speed and the realization almost had Rowan dropping the pot of coffee on his feet.

He was in love with Aelin Galathynius. 

~~

“Rowan!”

The man in question barely had time to look up and see a wisp of blonde hair before a smaller body was thrown at him in a full hug. He felt the breath leave his body although it had nothing to do with the weight of the girl in his arms. No- he had been waiting months to have her here. 

Aelin smelled like lemon verbena and it was difficult for Rowan not to inhale the scent that was directly in his face as his nose touched her silky hair. He tried not to squeeze her too tight as he had no idea what was happening. Although he did feel Aelin let out what felt like a giggle as she finally pulled away, not leaving his arms as she looked up at him. 

She held up a thick stack of paper that read ‘STATISTICS FINAL EXAM.’ 

And next to it was thick red A-.

“I did it!” She was beaming at him.

“You did it,” Rowan repeated, unable to look away from the paper. But then it hit him. “You did it!” Lifting her up and squeezing her even tighter, Rowan spun Aelin in a circle, delighted in the laugh that sprang out of her. He wanted to record the sound and listen to it every night. 

Finally, he put her down but once more, he refused to let her go. Aelin made no motion to move away either.

“All thanks to you,” she smirked. “Who knows what I would’ve done without my study buddy?” Rowan didn’t register anything she was saying. He was too busy looking at her mouth- at her perfectly pink lips and how much she wanted to kiss them.

She was saying something-

“Go out with me.” The words sprung out of their own volition. Aelin stilled in his arms, looking up at him with a raised brow before a brilliant smile cracked through.

Rowan didn’t think he was breathing as she reached up and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek, his skin burning at the contact. She grinned. 

“It took you long enough.”

Before he knew what was happening, Aelin had turned away and placed a few coins in the tip jar.

He didn’t need to count them to know it was quite a bit more than usual.

~~

the prompt was: i just realized i’m in love with you

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

[zsocca55]

Hello There fellow Hungarian from Poland!

Do you have aby headcanons about Poland or Polish and Hungarian Relations?

Yay, another Pole! :D Much, much love from Hungary to you guys! ❤️❤️❤️ I tried to summarize my thoughts in short sentences but….eh… sorry for the length of this, but there is like, a ton of history to work with, and one idea popped up after another and then I just got lost typing this. I might as well write a whole book about it. XD

These are listed in more or less historical order. Am I doing this right? I’m bad at making headcanons! Also my interpretation of Poland is very different from his Hetalia presentation and my notes are based heavily on how Poland and Polish people are perceived in Hungary. Sorry if that bothers anyone, but I like to stay accurate to History.

Anyway, I hope this list satisfies!

Poland:

-Used to be really childish and carefree but after the partitions he matured rather quickly

-He is quite the attention-seeker, very social and has many friends but only a few real ones and he has trust issues and fear of abandonment - that’s why he can get very clingy

-Has pride like the size of the moon

-Communicates his emotions poorly - which results in him sometimes mistreating people he likes (Lithuania and Ukraine for example) - he is getting better at reading people though

-He is a “lets get shit done” type of person - you give him a job and he will do it impeccably and in time

-He appears like this happy-go-lucky guy, but it’s actually a coping mechanism

-When he feels down, he becomes emotional - and drinks a lot - he is an emotional drunk

-Had a big fat crush on Ukraine (he even has a folk song dedicated to her, Hej Sokoły!)

-Complains a lot - like a really lot

-Poland keeps old gifts he received from his great kings and queens in a safe (nobody knows about it though)

-The partitions caused him to lose consciousness for weeks. It was the shock of losing his identity as a ‘state’. All countries involved believed that he would die.

-Poland lived with Russia between 1795-1918 due to Russia possessing most of his territory. But he often made official visits to Austria and Prussia to negotiate the treatment of his people with them. He also got away on his own a few times (to help out Hungary in 1848-49 for example).

-Poland accompanied Tadeusz Kościuszko to America, but couldn’t stay for long. Youthful America’s enthusiasm inspired him a lot.

-He is a very bad driver, and had so many accidents he doesn’t keep count, but he is a skilled pilot so he often complains about not being allowed to fly around instead of driving around.

Poland and Hungary:

-Poland was also victim of Hungarian tribal attacks before the 10th century so his boss decided to befriend the new southern neighbour in hopes of making an ally. At first Hungary thought Poland was a girl while he thought she was a boy.

-Hungary first met a Polish tribe called “Lendzianie” and so she named his people “lengyel”. Poland never corrected her though.

-They paid visits to each other often during the early decades of the 10th century and played a lot. Once they jumped in a lake for fun’s sake, without clothes, and Poland quickly realized that Hungary is in fact a girl but he hadn’t got the heart to break the news to her because she was so confident in being a boy.

-They got distanced whenever internal crisises rose in their countries. Even up to this day, if one of them has an internal struggle, the other doesn’t pry and keeps a respectful distance. They respect each others boundaries in every way.

-Poland and Hungary were married twice, but all they ever did was giggle about it like the young teens they were and caused a lot of trouble for their kings with their pranks and mischiefs.

-Poland never understood why Hungary’s attention turned towards Austria in the 1400s though. Hungary also never understood why his attention turned towards Lithuania either.

-Poland and Hungary have a very similar residing scar running in three directions across their bodies which are testimony to them being thorn in three. Poland during the partitions and Hungary during the Ottoman-Habsburg invasions when she was also basically three entities in one.

-Poland fought with Hungary against Austria in 1848-49 but was dragged back by Russia when Hungary lost. He learned of her marriage to Austria through a newspaper much later and was severely disappointed in her.

-Poland tried to negotiate with the Allies in order to save Hungary from being chopped up and lose their shared border, but France faced him with a decision: either shut up and get a place on the map or refuse the treaty and have less territory. Poland never ratified the treaty but he still resents not fighting it more.

-Hungary tried to help Poland during his war with the soviets in 1920-22 but because Czechoslovakia refused to grant access to him out of spite, she turned to Romania of all people, pleading him to help. Romania actually helped.

-Hungary was pretty shaken and isolated from everyone after WW1. Only Poland and North Italy reached out to her, searching ways to keep in contact.

-Hungary resents joining the wrong side in WW2, which made her and Poland enemies. She tried to make the best of the situation and help Poland when her troops were stationed on his territory. They met accidentally in a forest while Poland was marching with partisans towards Warsaw in 1944. She helped him out but Prussia found them and Hungary pretended to take Poland hostage in order to release him later during the night. Her men were killed for fraternizing with the enemy.

-During the German occupation in Poland it was forbidden to listen to Polish nationalist songs and so Hungary and her men played “God save Poland” on repeat just because they could and Poland and his people were very thankful for it.

-When the Iron Curtain was drawn, Hungary hid away in her land, depressed, but Poland kept fighting the new rule until the Poznan protests inspired the uprising in Budapest in 1956. Originally Hungary organized a solidarity march for him but it turned into a freedom fight. She was struck down by Russia though, leaving her bleeding out on her streets with a hole in her chest. Poland flew to Budapest and offered his own blood to save her. Hungary remained unconsious for a week until she woke up. He was at her bedside the whole time.

-Poland often jokes about Hungary probably inheriting his “immortality” because of the blood transfusion.

-Hungary hid away again after 56. He tried to help Hungary get over her trauma by visiting her often during the rest of their years in the Soviet Union, but something broke in her and he didn’t really know what to do.

-This put a certain distance between them.

-After the USSR fell, Poland was quick to make new friends and make up with his neighbours but Hungary came out of her shell much slower. She did admire him for his strength to move on. He also encouraged her a lot to get up and improve her country.

-Hungary considers him her only real friend. She doesn’t trust anybody else with her life anymore. Out of gratitude, she decided to declare a special day for Poland (March 23) and when he heard of it, he actually teared up.

-Nowadays they visit each other on their Independence Days and celebrate together. They also go and cheer for each other’s football teams with hundreds of Poles chanting “Ria, ria, Hungaria!” and hundreds of Hungarians chanting “Polska! Polska!” on the streets.

-After hearing the song “Varsó hiába várod” from the band Republic, Poland thought Warsaw is indeed too far from Budapest so he made a plan to build a railroad so they can come and go between each other’s capitals in five hours. The idea is under construction at the moment.

-Poland and Hungary like to think that they are the heart of V4.

-Hungary goes along with whatever mischief or prank Poland makes up. And vica versa.

-They also promote their friendship with so much enthusiasm that Romania often calls them out for being too mushy.

.

Uh, thanks for reading through this! I know this is a lots of text, I get carried away when making up ideas. I’m unable to summarize my thoughts in short sentences. I don’t have the ability.

Also 50% of this is not even headcanon, some of these really happened or are happening.

Anyway, I hope I answered your question! :’)

[wolfish-trickster]

Old oak tree

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 2,3K+

Warning: typos, angst, itsi bitsi fluff at the end

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @forevernthensome @kozkaboi

"So, what do you think?" Loki asked spreading his arms and showing you his new outfit.

You shrugged. "Looks good to me."

"Don't you think it's too much?" he checked himself in your mirror.

"Is anything EVER too much for you?" you asked with a smirk.

"I just...I really like her and I don't want to mess up."

"You won't, trust me," you reassured him.

He hugged you tightly, to your surprise. "What would I do without such a friend like you?"

The younger prince bolted from your room faster than you could answer. You sighed and closed the doors after him so no one could hear your heart breaking, again.

You and Loki were friends. Best friends actually. But you started to to see him more than that years ago. And you hated it.

You already accepted the fact he'll see you as only his supportive friend. If only he could stop asking you to help him woo his love interests. He always asked your opinion on everything. Flowers, his outfits, gifts he wanted to give them.

Once he even asked to kiss you so he could practice. It was in general your and his first kiss ever. Your head spinned when your life long best friend and crush in one person gently placed his lips on yours, his tongue sliding to your mouth. When he pulled away he just mumbled simple 'thanks' and ran away, leaving you flustered and with a face on fire under your favourite tree. At first you often sat under that old oak, remembering the feeling and smiling to yourself. However with every new interest of Loki you started to avoid the poor tree. Hate it even. You hated how it represented how you foolishly threw away your first kiss.

You still stood by Loki. What else could you do? Confess your feelings? As if that'll help.

You started to see pattern in his interests and you never managed to tic the boxes. You were only average among everything; intelligence, looks, skills. There were hundred and one people who were exactly like you. Loki would never choose you over a noble woman or man he was used to courting.

Now, when you were finally alone, you could think about what are you going to do about your never ending crush. You layed down on your bed and stared at your white ceiling. You already tried to avoid him in hopes you will loose your feelings for him, that didn't work. You wrote down every negative thing about him, trick your mind he isn't a good boyfriend material. Didn't work either since he is the kindest person you've ever met. And the gentlest. And nicest. With the most beautiful smile and eyes. And arms that give the coziest hugs.

"Fuck," you whispered and closed your eyes. It always ended like this. No matter how much you tried, you could never see him as something less than a great person he was.

Suddenly you heard his melodic laughter under your windows. As well as some girl's. You couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what? If he can date around, so can I!" you told yourself in pure desperation to get rid of the jealousy and pain from knowing he will never love you.

First thing you did was hiding everything he gave you as a child, every little trinket you cherished in false thought he's starting to catch feelings for you. You removed all of it from your shelves and put in a big box sliding it under your bed.

There, now onto the more complicated part: the oak of your very first kiss. Your heart ached with every step you took towards it. It was already old and not so full of life like it used to be. Its bark was dry and overgrown with moss. The poor thing didn't have enough energy to grow its leaves as viscoulsy like few years ago. No one visited it anymore. It was lonely just like you.

"Looks like you're few years from death, old buddy," you patted its trunk. "Let's end your missery now."

*

You were on your way back to your room holding a little pot filled with soil. Nothing was growing out yet, but in few months you were expecting a small oak sappling to grow. You couldn’t say goodbye to your old wooden friend just yet.

There, deep in halls, sounds are resonating. Sounds you soon came to hate. Kissing, Loki chuckling, some woman moaning, door closing.

You sadly looked down at the pot and took the biggest diversion to your room, avoiding coming any near Loki's bedroom.

*

Few days later you still avoided Loki. That time was the first time he had brought anyone to his bedroom to do....that. It was good he didn't ask you to practice on you. If he did, you would've.... you don't know what would you do. Probably panic first and get angry next.

While Loki was, let's say, occupied you got closer to one soldier, Arne. He was kind, tall, ginger with freckles and very skilled fighter. He wasn't the smartest but he had a sense of humor and always tried to make you laugh. He wasn't Loki though, but it didn't matter. At least you kept yourself busy, so your heart could heal.

Right now you were in stables with Arne. He was telling you how he got his first horse when he finished his soldier training few decades back. You were braiding his mare's mane as he stood right beside you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. Everything was at peace.

"Y/N! Y/N, WHERE ARE YOU?" came Loki's voice.

Almost everything.

You turned your head towards his voice. He was rushing towards you until he stopped when he noticed Arne standing so close to you.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked a little irritated.

"Well-"

"It doesn't matter, I have to show you something," he took you by the hand and started dragging you out of the stables only for you to slip your hand from his and hugging Arne. "See you tomorrow," you waved him goodbye and walked out, Loki trailing after you.

"So, what is it you wanted to show me?"

"What the Hel was that?" he pointed at you and behind him at the stables, completely ignoring your question.

"A hug. Why?"

"Since when are you hugging random soldiers? And since when are you even hanging out with low ranking soldiers like Hofferson?"

"His first name is Arne, and I'm allowed to hug whoever I want. Same goes for hanging out. Now are you going to show me the thing or can I return to him?"

"Right," he remember, took your hand again and ran to gardens. To the familiar now empty corner. "Look what some bastard did," he pointed at the wide oak stump.

"Yeah, I know."

"You do? Oh, darling," he threw his arms around you. You fought with yourself internally to not hug him back, but being close to him after a very long time felt just too good not to give in.

"I'm so sorry. I know it was your favourite tree. I will find the culprit and-"

"You don't have to," you interrupted and pulled yourself away from him.

"I do! That tree meant a lot to me too. I was actually working on a spell to bring life into it again."

"And how exactly did it mean a lot to you? I never saw you even near that tree."

Loki stuttered. "E-ehm, we had our first kiss underneath it."

"As if that meant anything to you," you muttered.

"What?"

"I said it was old and it had to be cut down."

"Well you could've asked me before you killed it," he spat rather angrily.

"My family planted it, I get to do whatever I want with it!"

"Did it mean so little to you?"

"No. On the contrary, it meant the world to me! That's why I had to cut it down!"

"What? Why? I don't understand you," he shook his head.

"Well excuse me for wanting to destroy the biggest thing that reminded me how my best friend stole my first kiss!"

"Stole? I asked and you complied!" Loki defended himself.

You groaned. "Okay fine, you didn't steal it, I lost it. Now can I go back to Arne?"

"Lost it?! Have you got any idea how many people would murder for a kiss from a prince? And why do you want to go to Arne so desperatelly? You never talked to soldiers before, so why the change of heart?"

"I like him, he's nice and courageous and-"

"I forbid it."

"What?!" you couldn't believe your ears.

"I forbid it. You can't whore around with soldiers like him, think about your reputation!" he crossed his arms infront of him.

"Whore around? Look who's talking! You've had at least 5 lovers in the past month!"

"T-that's different."

"And how exactly is it different, Loki?"

"I-"

You waited. Nothing came out of him.

"That's what I thought."

*

Few days passed, you continued avoiding Loki and he started to close off from everyone. Occasionally you saw some green sparkles in a shape of a person sitting on the oak stump. You figured that must be Loki under cloaking spell. All you wanted to do was run to him and hug him, he looked so depressed and lonely. Just like you were when you saw him with all those lovers in the past.

You felt bad for him. But you doubted he felt bad for you back then. Or now. So you always walked pass him, pretending you didn't notice him.

*

*knock knock*

You looked up from watering your growing oak sapling. Who could it be? You weren't expecting anyone. "Who's there?"

"Guess," came a dull voice.

You put away your watering kettle and hid the pot behind courtains. "Come in, Loki."

He stepped inside wearing one of his ordinary clothes, his hair wasn't slicked back like he used to style it and he had apologetic expression on his face.

"Y/N, I came to apologize."

Loki is apologizing. Now that's new. "What for?" you asked teasingly.

He sighed. "For saying you were whoring around. It wasn't right from me," he pulled out your favourite flower from behind his back, "friends?"

You took the flower. "Okay, friends."

Loki clapped his hands excitedly. "Great, now that we're at good terms with eachother I-"

"No!" you silenced him. You knew there had to be a catch. He made up with you just so he could ask you for help. Just like always.

"You don't even know what I was about to say."

"Oh, I think I do. You want me to give you advices again. Well, guess what? That's not happening. So you can, as mortals say, do 180 and walk out that door," you pointed behind him to your bedroom door.

Loki held out his hands in surrender. "I wasn't going to ask you that! I just want to talk."

"Oh," now you felt stupid. "Okay, a little talk never killed anyone I guess."

"Thank you," he let his hands fall down and took a walk around your room. "I see you were redecorating," he noticed all of his trinkets he gave you were gone. He assumed you most likely threw them out or burned them. Just the thought of it hurt him.

"Yeah," you hugged your arms to comfort yourself. "I still have them, I just didn't want to look at them anymore."

He turned towards you. "Why? First the tree, then my little gifts. What's next, me?" he joked to ease both your and his growing anxiety.

You chuckled lightly and shook your head. "No, don't worry."

He walked to you and put his hand on your shoulders. "Then why? We're best friends, right? We can tell eachother everything."

"That's exactly what I can't do," you grabbed his hand on your shoulder and slowly removed them.

"Why? Do you... do you hate me?"

"What? Heavens no! I could never hate you!"

He sighed from relief. "Good. But then why? I can't think of a single reason you would do those things. Wait. On a second thought," he held his chin between his thumb and index finger and looked down like he always does when he was thinking. He shook his head then and chuckled to himself. "No, that's absurd. You could never be in love with me."

You involuntarily tensed up. He noticed.

"Or could you?"

Tears started burning in your eyes as you nodded. "Sorry."

"For how long?"

After few minutes of thinking you shook your head. "I don't remember when it happened. It just happened."

"Well, when did you realise then? That you...you know? Are in love with me?"

"Few days before the oak kiss, I guess."

"But that was decades ago! This long time and I never saw," he facepalmed.

"And you...?" you asked hopefully. Maybe he will tell you he loves you too, right?

He sighed. "I'm sorry Y/N. I love you, but not like that. You have always been like a little sister I always wanted."

You nodded. Of course he doesn't love you like that. How even could he? You turned away from him and let some tears escape.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he rubbed your back. "We can still be friends. Nothing will change between us. I promise."

But it already did. Everything changed for you. How could you even look him in the eye?

You wiped away your tears and put on a perfectly rehearsed fake smile. "Okay, I can work with that," you offered him your hand, "friends?"

Instead of shaking it he hugged you. "Friends."

You hugged him back and let your fake smile fall. Your naive little self told you he will change his mind in the future. You are already so close with eachother. Closer than anyone you know. It's just a matter of time. For now, you can only dream.

[shatouto]

bare his neck on the execution block

[gen fic, 2.5k. obi-wan and anakin discusses ahsoka’s apprenticeship early on. vent fic + character study, sort of. read on ao3]

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

Obi-Wan glances up. Anakin has uttered those words so quietly, so unlike his usual tone of voice when he is upset in some ways. There is none of that off-kilter lilt of minor irritation, nor the somber reverberation of suppressed but boiling rage in his voice. He sounds… defeated, the resignment almost nothing like Obi-Wan has heard before – and that is saying something, considering the ten-odd years they have broken bread and shared quarters and matched blades. Concern sinking coldly in his stomach, he stands up, paces over and settles beside his former apprentice, setting a hand on Anakin’s back in a tentative offer of comfort.

Anakin doesn’t really respond, just slumps lower, his forehead propped against his fingers, his face hidden behind his hands. Obi-Wan keeps his frown to himself, merely brushing his hand up and down Anakin’s back. He has a thousand guesses as to what Anakin means exactly, and no less than nine hundred of them would pertain to this grueling war that has covered their life in a grey pall. But assumptions are the enemy of comprehension; one who speculates will judge instead of listening at all, whereas Obi-Wan strives to be a good listener first and foremost. So he merely asks, “Would you like to talk about it, Anakin?”

Anakin lets out a slightly shuddery sigh. Obi-Wan studies him for another few moments of a silence that is not quite tense, just somewhat suffocating, like the humid air before a rainstorm. His eyes wander from the guarded curve of Anakin’s shoulders to the exhausted slouch of Anakin’s back. Between the back armor plate and ringlets of baby hair at the base of his skull, a pale strip of skin is exposed where his neck slopes like a prisoner bowing over the execution block. Obi-Wan shudders and pushes the intrusive macabre image all the way down to the bottom of his mind. He must focus on the here and now, especially the irregular pulses that spread from Anakin’s signature into the fabric of the Force around him like the throb of a dull ache.

“Ahsoka…” Anakin trails off just as he begins, but the fact that he opened up at all is already a relief. Obi-Wan says nothing, only brings his hand up to cover Anakin’s nape, giving it a grounding squeeze, in a way shielding it from the phantom blade that still haunts his mind’s eye. A minuscule intake of breath – too sharp, too much like the ghost of a sob for Obi-Wan’s liking – preludes Anakin’s wavering voice.

“I can’t—can’t train her, Master.”

Obi-Wan blinks, brows shooting up in surprise. Anakin and his own Padawan haven’t had the easiest of beginnings – what with Yoda’s doublespeak orders that led to misunderstandings and unpleasant surprises on the part of young Master and Padawan both – but Obi-Wan was almost sure that they have smoothed things out between them since. He doesn’t doubt Anakin’s care for his apprentice and Ahsoka’s respect for him likewise.

“I was under the impression that Ahsoka has been making great progress under your tutelage,” Obi-Wan says in a hushed tone, tilting his head down a little, not to force eye contact with Anakin but simply to suggest Anakin to turn to him. “What makes you say so?”

“Everything,” Anakin grits out at once, his voice taking on a watery edge. He slumps down lower, full on burying his face in his hands now, and Obi-Wan’s heart twists. “She’s been making progress because she’s just that good, Master. I didn’t do anything… She’s already trained in the reverse grip before I even taught her anything, remember?” Anakin gives a brittle laugh, breathless and humorless and fooling no one, least of all himself.

Obi-Wan bites the inside of his lips, his forehead creasing deeply in frowns as he shifts closer and slides his arm around Anakin’s shoulders in reassurance. “Lightsaber techniques are not nearly everything about being a Jedi, and you know it, Anakin. She needs a Master—”

“Then I’m not what she needs! I’m not a Master!” Anakin’s voice climbs to a near-cry. He takes in a shaky, stuttery breath and suddenly turns towards Obi-Wan, his eyes red-rimmed and downcast, a miserable frown etched into the downturned corners of his mouth. “I can’t pretend to be one anymore. I can’t take this anymore!”

Anakin’s pain pierces through his word and lodges into Obi-Wan’s heart as well. “Anakin…”

“There’s so much to do. I have to lead my battalion, I—I have to fight this war. We all have to, but I… I don’t know! I can’t do so many things at once! I can’t do right by her like this,” Anakin continues, sniffling, his flesh hand clawing into his gloved one so hard that his fingers blanch from the pressure. “I’m just—I just got Knighted this year, I don’t know anything about this. Aayla is even older than me. Why did <i>I</i> have to be the one to take on a Padawan? What, am I the only Knight in the Order who’s available to take an apprentice? I don’t get it. Anybody could have taught her better than I do.”

“Anakin, that isn’t true—”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Anakin unceremoniously cuts him off, his voice dripping with dismissal and disdain – at himself. He glares up and flinches back as soon as he meets Obi-Wan’s eyes as though only realizing then what he has been trying to hide. His gaze immediately drops, but by then Obi-Wan already saw the furious tears in his eyes. “Don’t lie just to reassure me,” Anakin mutters, roughly dragging his hand over his eyes. “Anybody else would’ve been better for her. You know that, the Council knows that, Ahsoka knows that.”

Anakin droops completely, and Obi-Wan finds it somehow both relieving and alarming that Anakin isn’t pushing off. Anakin’s need for comfort – physical comfort, especially – is nearly always at war with Anakin’s need to prove himself capable of handling everything on his own. This certainly isn’t unique to him; what is unique to him is the intense manner in which he feels, no less aggravated by the expectations that he carries on his shoulder and his incredible attunement to the Force. This is not the first time Anakin has broken down in tears from the stress of it all – his words, in fact, distinctly remind Obi-Wan of that one occasion, years ago, where he begged Obi-Wan to quiet the noise in his mind and take away the burden of being the Chosen One – but the pain it brings to Obi-Wan’s chest is the same.

“I’m sorry, Padawan mine,” Obi-Wan murmurs, squeezing Anakin lightly. He regrets making light of it when it turned out that Ahsoka was to be assigned to Anakin instead of him, to the young Knight’s surprise. He regrets taking it for granted that Anakin would just find a way to get along with this fourteen-year-old Padawan – an adolescent chock in the middle of her rebellious years and prone to challenging any authority, especially the one closest to her, the most insecure and inexperienced figure of authority, the easiest one to snip and quip at. At least when he took on Anakin as a Padawan himself, Anakin was only nine – unsure and outright frightful of his new life, but sweet and earnest – which allowed Obi-Wan a period of respite before the boy’s childish idolatry turned into a teenager’s testiness and brooding.

It’s easy to see Anakin as older than the nineteen-year-old he is; easy to believe him as capable and competent as he tries to prove himself to be; easy to consider him as bearing the full responsibility of a Jedi Knight and more, for being a prodigy, for having accomplished what he had. It’s much harder – and much more painful, especially for him who loves Anakin so – to dwell over and over on the fact that Anakin struggles in ways that one can neither fathom nor help with. There are burdens Anakin cannot share with him, phantom blades that will hurt Anakin only even if Obi-Wan volunteers to bare his neck on the execution block in his stead.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I did not know you were suffering. I should have stood up for you – and I would, had you objected the apprenticeship.” He pauses for a moment, rubbing up and down Anakin’s arm in soothing motions. “Why did you not say anything?”

Anakin leans limply against him, the remaining tension in his body suggesting exhaustion rather than relaxation. Obi-Wan simply holds up that weight with his own. He has always thought of it this way: if he cannot bear his former Padawan’s burden for or with him, then the least he could do is to provide shelter, absorb his hurt, cushion his fall. He would embrace Anakin’s fire with both arms until all the stars in the universe have burned out, and even then.

“I didn’t want to,” Anakin shudders out the words, turning and hiding his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s shoulder like he’s a Padawan again and Obi-Wan welcomes the gesture like ocean waves cradling the setting sun. Anakin often hid in closets or even cracks in the wall as a child – until he apparently discovered that the safest hiding place in the universe was where he could tuck his head under his Master's chin and let himself be covered by Obi-Wan's great billowing sleeves. “Didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d feel rejected,” Anakin mumbles. “And… I don’t know. It felt like a mission – being her Master, I mean. I don’t—I don’t want to refuse a mission.”

“Anakin, you…” Obi-Wan lays his cheek atop Anakin’s head, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment in frustration at himself. Inane question, Kenobi. Of course he would not even try to say no to the Grandmaster’s order. This is not the time to think about who to blame, yet Obi-Wan cannot help feeling immediately at fault. He knows and has always known Anakin to be this way, ruled by not only pride but a deep-seated fear of being seen as anything less than utterly competent and fearless. He knows better than most, and so he should have known better. Of all people, he should have been the one to check on Anakin, discuss his feelings with him, speak up for him.

And how hard must it have been? How hard was it to earn the respect of someone barely five years your junior? How hard was it to assert your authority over someone you would rather just be a good friend to, just because you need to prove yourself to the authority above you? How hard was it to do all of that while trying to grow into the too-large mantle of General of the Republic, at the age of nineteen?

“Forgive me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, shattering inside out – from guilt and in empathy. “You are not wrong – it was a difficult and awkward situation you were in. I’m truly sorry. I wish I had come to your aid sooner.”

“I feel like I never got to be a Knight,” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, his voice nasal and dangerously close to cracking. The confession is a bolt to Obi-Wan’s heart. It was how he’d felt as well, when he took Anakin under his wing immediately after his hasty graduation that followed Qui-Gon’s death. But at least it was a choice he made himself – a choice he doesn’t at all regret, looking back. He can say so with surety and fondness. Can Anakin even say so about his own apprentice? Anakin didn’t have any say in the matter to begin with. Even if he has grown close to Ahsoka, he is clearly tormented by the responsibilities that have been thrust upon him.

“It’s not like I don’t like her,” Anakin adds all of a sudden, shuffling up a little bit, clearly disquieted by Obi-Wan’s pensive silence. “She’s brilliant, I just… I’m going to fail her. I know I will. I’m not you. I wouldn’t have been able to do this even if I were twenty-five and she was nine.”

“Anakin, no,” Obi-Wan firmly hushes, frowning. Comparisons hurt. A comparison without context can poison self-perception like nothing else. He wraps his arms tighter around Anakin. “Please do not say such things. We are different – because we are different people. Look—Can you look at me, Padawan?”

He cradles Anakin’s face, and Anakin looks up through matted, darkened lashes, slightly biting down on his lower lip. With a tone as gentle as he can possibly muster, Obi-Wan speaks.

“If you’re thinking you aren’t capable of being a Master, or a good Master, then I assure you that isn’t true. I have seen your capacity for teaching, both in your methods and the results thereof. You have made progress just as Ahsoka did. I have faith in you, Anakin. However”—Obi-Wan absentmindedly wipes half a droplet of tear at the corner of Anakin’s scarred eye with the pad of his thumb—“what matters is whether you want to continue this apprenticeship. You are capable, but being capable of doing something doesn’t necessarily mean you have to force yourself to do it. Do you understand?”

Anakin watches him with a wariness that has Obi-Wan’s heart aching almost physically. It pains him so, when Anakin feels the need to tread carefully when speaking to him; he’d rather Anakin balk and brag and act brash than this. “I do, Obi-Wan,” Anakin utters syllable by syllable, chewing on his lip. “I just—don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

His voice is rough and fragile at the same time, tearing at the raw edges like a gauze that Obi-Wan wishes he could singlehandedly hem. Anakin looks drained, with circles under his eyes that suggest he would’ve looked ashen if it wasn’t for the flush of fury and frustration from earlier, and puffed-up eyelids that look ready to shut for the rest of the day. Obi-Wan holds back a sigh and brushes Anakin’s hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“That’s alright, Padawan mine,” he says, prompting Anakin to draw closer to him with a light touch. Thankfully, Anakin does, and finally wraps his arms around Obi-Wan in a returning embrace this time. “That’s quite alright. You don’t have to decide everything right now. You can take your time and rest – you’ve done enough.”

Anakin lets out a sigh so deep that Obi-Wan can physically feel the way his chest constricts against his own body. He wraps Anakin’s signature with his presence in the Force, lighting up candle after candle in the gloomy aftermath of the hurricane. Anakin shudders, and whispers. “Thank you, Master.”

“Anytime, dear one,” Obi-Wan says against the crown of his head, softly stroking his hair. “I’m here. I’ll be here.” And I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me. Here I am and here I shall remain, be it to hold up the night sky before it crumbles in your chest or patch up the stars that burn and bleed from invisible blades. I will, until the day I cannot do it any longer.

[wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse]

Wishes (Aragorn x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 2207 Warnings: ANGST

AHHH OK so this fic was made in collaboration with @hey-its-nonny and it was so fun to write!

You woke in a restored Gondor, eyes fluttering open at the beams of golden sunlight seeping through your window. The day you‘d dreaded for months had finally come. It was the day Aragorn was to be wed to his love, Arwen.

You rose, already mourning your loss of your friend and your love. You didn’t know how you could stay, concealed in the dark. Hiding. Ignoring your emotions and acting as if they didn’t exist was a difficult task. But, if it meant Aragorn would be happy, you would try your best, unsure of what might come of it.

Slowly, you slid on your dress, the silky fabric brushing your legs. It was a beautiful gown, one that Arwen had made especially for you. It fit perfectly, snug around your waist and flaring out. In your favorite color, too.

The necklace Aragorn had given you laid heavily on your neck. It felt wrong to be wearing it to this event, but without it, you didn't feel whole.

And with a look in the mirror, you sighed, a saddened smile gracing your lips while you prepared yourself for what would be one of the saddest days of your life.

You thought back to a better time when everything was easier. When your love for Aragorn had bloomed.

It was a cold night. You and Aragorn had gone on yet another adventure together through the hours of the night. After plenty of frolicking and distractions, you’d both agreed that it was time to eat.

You’d decided a warm soup was the way to go, and Aragorn agreed with you on that as well. And while you waited for your meals, you talked around pointless things, avoiding the affection that was blossoming.

You were teasing him, pushing him around, baiting him. When he finally retaliated, he accidentally hit your soup out of your hands. The target for the food? your clothes. Your shirt was covered, and you stifled a laugh while Aragorn looked mortified.

You winced a bit at how hot your soup was, as well as the fact that you could no longer eat it, since it was so elegantly spilled on your shirt.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. Here, let me- I can-” The poor man rambled, looking for a cloth to dry your shirt. You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, though the fiery wrath of the soup was definitely a contender for your attention.

Yet still, you laughed, opening your bag with a hum. “Aragorn, I’m sure I have a spare shirt in my pa- What? Where is it?” You quietly gasped, Aragorn’s eyes brightening.

“Take mine, Y/N. I have a spare.” He stated, the red on his cheeks dissipating.

Your gentle hands gingerly grasped the shirt as you stood, sharply inhaling at the temperature of the soup. “I’ll be back.”

After a minute or two, you walked over to the table and sat down, cozier than ever in Aragorn’s off-white shirt. You offered a smile and caught Aragorn’s eye, his shocked expression warming your cheeks. “It is a little big, I will admit, but it will do until I get a fresh change of clothing.” You grinned, biting back a smile.

“Keep it.” Aragorn smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the slightest and sweetest of ways. “It looks better on you than it looked on me.” He stated, inhaling a breath after stealing another glance at you.

You still had that shirt, after all the time that passed.

Those were fond memories you had of him, but fleeting. You smoothed your dress down and slipped on your shoes. Another memory came to haunt you, the emotions overwhelming.

You were wandering Rivendell when you heard a giggle. You had turned a corner, finding Aragorn, his lips glued to Arwen’s. You cleared your throat, causing them to break apart, looking at you sheepishly.

Arwen spoke softly, “Oh, I am sorry about that. We didn’t know anyone else would come here.” Of course, she didn’t know that Aragorn and you had spent many hours in this same place. You avoided his gaze and hid your emotion, laughing instead.

“Oh I have so many things I could say, but most important of all, I could tell everyone!” You paraded around them, joking of course. They laughed along, not truly seeing how much this hurt you. And you would keep it that way.

The decorations were beautiful. You gazed upon the arch that Aragorn was to be wed under, trailing down the cascading vines and flowers. You counted at least a hundred guests.

If it weren’t for the emotions you felt at the moment, you might have smiled just because of how beautiful everything looked.

The bells rang, signifying that the ceremony would start soon, and you took a sharp breath. Your stomach churned like you were about to face the armies of Mordor alone. But it wasn’t the time to be afraid. It was time to be Aragorn’s friend.

The very man that your thoughts were formed around jogged up to you, handsome as ever. His armor contrasted his eyes beautifully, and the smile he wore made you melt.

“Y/N. Just the woman I wished to see.” He grinned, placing a hand on your shoulder while you returned the smile.

You hummed, straightening your back. “What do you need?” You asked, ready to do whatever he needed.

“A friend.” He replied, indicating that he was nervous.

“You’ll be fine, Aragorn.” You smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Everything will go smoothly, I assure you.”

The man nodded, a dreadful sigh escaping his lips once the bells rang again. Of all the things you’d said today, the three words that left your lips were some of the hardest to get out. “Go get her.”

Once everyone was settled, the ceremony began with Elrond giving Arwen away. You watched Aragorn closely, the way his eyes lit up when Arwen was unveiled, the pure love and devotion he had for her nearly killing you. You had no idea it would be this hard. Tears pricked at your eyes when they kissed and you were glad you could blame it on the “beauty” of the moment.

You watched Aragorn lead Arwen down the aisle, each step a dagger in your chest. No matter how strong you wanted to be for Aragorn, you couldn’t watch this any longer. Your strained smile slowly disappeared as they walked out of sight. You had to get out of there.

So, when he wasn’t looking, you quietly slipped away, allowing the tears to finally fall. What you didn’t know, however, was that he saw you walk away, more confused and worried than ever.

Once you were far enough, you broke into a sprint. You needed to get as far away from there as fast as you could. You slipped your shoes off, the cold and roughness of the stone adding to your anguish. Upon reaching the garden, you sobbed, collapsing onto the stone ground where you once stood. You couldn’t control it. Your shoulders softly shook as you cried, feeling nothing but sorry for yourself. You thought you could watch Aragorn give a special part of himself to Arwen. You really did. But you couldn’t.

And you hated yourself for it. You held your head in your hands, sniffling quietly into the silence. You never got to tell him how much better he made you. You never got to hug him as Arwen would. You never got to laugh at his flirtatious jokes like Arwen would be able to. You never got to kiss him as Arwen would. But then again, why would he ever kiss someone like you? You weren’t even half as pretty as her.

Too lost in your own sorrow, you didn’t hear Aragorn’s footsteps approaching. Something about rangers, they always knew how to stay quiet and test the situation. Upon seeing you, he removed his crown, kneeling beside you with worry written on his sharp features. “Y/n? Y/n, why are you upset?” The worried man asked, gently grasping your trembling shoulders.

You flinched under the touch, shrinking away from the touch. “It is nothing, Mellon. Please, go be with yo- Arwen. Were you not just betrothed?” You asked, wiping away the salty teardrops on your cheeks.

While you stood to leave, Aragorn mimicked your actions, blocking your exit. “Y/n, please. I only wish to help,” He pleaded, following your gaze. He gently grabbed your chin, sending a shiver down your spine while he forced you to look at him.

“Aragorn, please let me go.” You sniffled, lip quivering while your eyes begged him to leave.

Aragorn frowned, giving one final attempt at helping you. He couldn’t know. He could never know. “Was it Arwen? Gandalf? I do not know what could have upset you in such a way.” He frowned, brow creased in worry.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. No more games, or guessing, or hiding from it. You’d tried so hard, only for it all to come crashing down in flames before your eyes. “It’s you, Aragorn!” You cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks while throwing your hands out.

You laughed a sad laugh, backing away from the man you’d loved for countless years. “It’s always been you.” You croaked weakly, your voice brittle and defeated. Aragorn was still confused. He cautiously stepped forward, taking your hands in his own. “Y/n, what do you mean?” He asked, clearly worried that he’d hurt you in some way.

You shook your head, biting your lip while you trained your gaze on the ground. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just-” You smiled, shaking your head as you met his gaze. “Just go be with her. You need to be with her.”

But instead of walking away, Aragorn shook his head. “Y/n, we cannot keep circling amongst each other like this. Please, tell me what I’ve done to hurt you.” He pleaded, worry and remorse engraved in his expression.

You took a shaky breath, tearing up once again. “I can’t, Aragorn.” You admitted, the cost of saying the words far more than you were willing to give. “If I do, I will have to leave.” You choked, willing away the tears.

Aragorn sighed, determination set in his jaw. “Whatever you are facing, Y/n, whatever comes, I will face it beside you.” He stated, confidence and truth behind the words. You hated how perfect he was. Always an amazing friend, but not for much longer.

Finally, after a minute of silence, you decided that if you were going to leave Gondor for the rest of your days, you might as well make it memorable. “Forgive me, Aragorn.” You pleaded, leaning in to steal a kiss from Aragorn.

He hummed in surprise, but didn’t back away, eyes fluttering shut. You relished in the feeling, your hand on his warm, stubbly cheek. It was incredible. Until the both of you realized what was happening. You gasped, backing away from the kiss. “I-“ You stammered, quickly going into a panic. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” You breathed, stumbling out of the garden.

You felt like such an idiot. All of the nights wasted in tears rushing back to haunt you as you ran away from the love you’d held onto so dearly. You ran as fast as you could for the forest, clutching the necklace Aragorn had given you. Habit.

Little did you know, Aragorn decided to run after you, desperate to clean up the mess you’d made. You ran, skillfully weaving throughout the trees to lose Aragorn.

Once you thought you were far enough, you leaned against a tree, dirt marks along your arms and legs. That was the last time you would ever see Aragorn. You wasted it. So, you cried. Then you decided you would move on. Start over.

Aragorn approached, careful not to startle you. You looked up, resting your head against the tree with an irritated sigh. “I can’t stay.” You whispered, your defeated tone letting Aragorn know just how much of a toll this took on you.

Aragorn frowned, the glisten of a tear catching your eye. “Why? We can forget it happened, Y/n. We can make this right.” He suggested, a pleading in his voice that you’d only heard a handful of times. It hurt.

“We can’t. I have to leave.” You replied, forcing yourself to look at him. “I love you, Aragorn. I always have and will. Nothing can ever change that. So, unless you have miraculously realized that it is not Arwen, but me you love, which I highly doubt, I’m leaving.” You explained, standing with a sigh, knowing Aragorn would try to follow.

He stood, watching while you unclasped the necklace Aragorn gave you. “Goodbye, Aragorn.” You spoke defeatedly, gently grasping his hands to place the necklace in them.

“Y/n, anything you wish, I will do. Just stay.” He asked one final time, slow tears falling down his cheeks.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiping away his tears with your thumb. “I wish I were Arwen.” And with that, you walked away, thankful that Aragorn didn’t try to follow.

taglist: @lady-latte

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.11

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eleven: I Know It’s Over: Things get a little more clearer as you deal with the pain Spencer caused. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, mentions of alcohol consumption / intoxication, serious serious angst, this whole series is a real slow burn.

series masterlist

A/N: everyone go thank @ellesgreenaway​ for getting me out of my writing rut just in time to get this chapter done! and as always, i wanted to reiterate how fucking grateful i am that y'all are reading, and liking, this little story! it means the world to me! also, i didn't reread this so there may some mistakes ill fix later, sorry!!

-

People love weekends. They’re like a mini holiday. A break from the tedious and repetitive cycle that is Monday to Friday. Weekends are time spent away from the office, your profession and whatever that entails. They are time spent away from completing menial tasks. A break.

Saturdays and Sundays help regain all of the lost energy. When people get caught up in everyday life, weekends remind them to enjoy the simple things. They gives the opportunity to try new things, visit family and friends, or allow to simply spend some time alone. People love weekends.

Your weekend however, was an utter blur.

Aiding a killer hangover on Saturday, you opted to spend the day in bed. A plastic bucket within your reach and a bottle of water on the side table. You slept a lot. Partially to ease the headache, but mainly to ease the pain you were experiencing in your chest. The heartache.

The only thing you could remember from the night before was Spencer completely shattering your hopes and dreams, and the first six shots of tequila you took after at a nearby bar. You weren't entirely sure how you got home; the next morning Ethan clarified he picked you up after the bartender rang him using your phone. Not one of your proudest moments.

Your lack of motivation carried onto Sunday. The grief you were experiencing was not unfamiliar, after all Spencer’s broken up with you before. Although this time the agony that accompanied it felt a lot more intense. You couldn't move, or eat, or even shower. You were frozen. Stuck to the bed as if it was your only lifeline.

Thankfully Ethan was working both days. In your eyes, he was too preoccupied to notice something was wrong. Unbeknown to you however, he knew exactly the reason behind your melancholy.

The weekend soon ended, almost as soon as it began. Monday morning rolled around and with it the encouragement to get out of bed. Not like you wanted to. If you had it your way, you would never leave the comfort and safety of your duvet again. You knew however, you couldn't stay home without at least some of your colleagues questioning your absence, asking what was wrong. No. It was time to face reality.

Time to face Spencer.

The brunette doctor was sat at his desk. He arrived to work today earlier than usual, about four hours early to be exact. He made his usual cup of coffee and since then he hasn't moved an inch, just staring silently at his phone.

It wasn't something he done often, honestly he only carried the thing around for work purposes. But something happened that he couldn't quite get over.

On Saturday morning, Spencer woke up to a message left on his voicemail. A message from you.

At first it was hard to decipher what you were saying, or rather what you were mumbling. Between the drunken hiccups, slurred speech, and obnoxious background noise, Spencer initially thought it was a butt dial. It must have been, right? He was after breaking your heart for a second time, why would you leave him a voicemail?

However, hearing your melodic tone just saying his name, prompted Spencer to listen to the message again. It was then he really heard the distorted words coming out of your mouth.

“Spencerrrrrr, I uh I don't believe yo-ou. I know-w in uh my hearrrt-t you d-didn't mean it.” Hiccup. “P...p-please let’ssss forgetuh abo-ut it.” Hiccup. “I-I love youh-uh anddd I kno-ow you love meeee. I jussst kno-w.” Hiccup. “I-I me-an you uh couldn't-t even look me-e in the eye when you sss-said it.... please-e S-Spencer-”

The message cuts off and he’s left dumbfounded.

Blood drained from his face. The voicemail registered in his brain and he suddenly felt dizzy. Nauseous even. His hands began to tremble in his lap, and he swore if he wasn't sitting down he would have fainted.

By Monday, Spencer had listened to the voicemail a painstakingly two-hundred and eleven times. He had it memorised, and yet he kept playing it over and over again just to hear your voice.

As he sat at his desk, waiting for his colleagues to arrive, he wondered whether you remembered sending it. Truthfully, he hoped you didn't. It would be easier to move on that way - as if moving on from you was an option.

The glass door opened and he heard a faint sound of footsteps walk across the bullpen. Footsteps Spencer would honestly recognise anywhere. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced up from his phone and slightly turned his head, his gaze landing on you.

The air caught in Spencer’s throat, the voicemail instantly replaying in his head.

He wondered what you were thinking. Simply by looking at you he could tell you were in pain. Pain he caused, and he hated himself for it. Having spent countless hours over Saturday and Sunday rethinking the situation, he knew he made a mistake. He should have never given into Ethan’s smug demands. And even if, he should have told you what happened. Leave the choice up to you, as it was in the first place.

It was too late now to fix this, Spencer knew even if you remembered sending the voicemail you wouldn't listen to what he had to say anyway. Selfishly, he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to gaze into your eyes as the drunken message replayed in his mind yet again.

And although you could feel his eyes on you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his stare. No. The heartache would only intensify. This was a mistake. You should have stayed home. With a blank expression, you placed your bag on your desk and hurried in the direction of the office kitchenette.

Spencer on the other hand followed you with his gaze. Every fibre of his being screamed to follow you, to talk to you. But he was completely frozen and remained glued to his own chair. Once again, a true display of cowardliness.

By lunch time, the whole team picked up on the odd dynamic between you and the handsome doctor. Two people that spent every waking moment together were no longer speaking to one another.  It didn't take a profiler to see something was wrong.

You hid in Penelope’s lair with the bubbly blonde and Tara. Enjoying a couple minutes of peace away from the prying eyes of everyone you worked with, most importantly however, away from Spencer.

“So chicken, are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Garcia enquired, taking a mouthful of her lunch. “Because a blindman could see something is off, and don't you dare telling me I’m delusional or something.”

“Penelope is right, Y/N. Last time you were this silent and upset was when Spencer was in prison.”

You let out a deep sigh at the sound of his name. It was no use hiding your feelings from them, they would figure it out eventually. Plus these were the people you trusted more than anything in the world. If you couldn't tell them, then who could you tell what was going on?

“It’s something similar.” You mumbled, avoiding their gaze. “Just much much worse this time...”

“Well whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re here for you.” Penelope chimed, and reached out her hand to grab yours. She gave it a gentle squeeze and shot you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, exactly. We will support you through anything, you know that.” Tara added nodding along.

You sniffled. What were becoming all too familiar tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you would break down at any given second. Taking in a long breath, you began to tell the two girls everything that’s happened since your engagement. They listened attentively, never turning their attention away from you. As they listened, they both held your hands and took turns whispering ‘it’s okay’ or ‘take your time’.

“I’m going to kill our resident genius. He won't know what’s coming.” Penelope murmured after you finished in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of your lips twitched ever so slightly upwards as you wiped the tears away from your face.

“What are you going to do?” Tara asked after a congenial moment of silence.

“Ehm...” You cleared your throat. “S-Spencer wants nothing to do with me, but uhm... I after everything I c-can’t, I just can't be with Ethan. I can’t-t.”

The girls both nodded their heads, and even though they understood exactly what you meant by what you were saying, you still felt like you had to say the words aloud. For your own sake.

“So, uhm, I-I’m going to break up with Ethan. I-I’m going to end the engagement.” You stated, and even though your heart still ached, you felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You felt free.

And I know it's over - still I cling I don't know where else I can go 

-

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies��� voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

[seirin613]

I wanted to do the comic on this story but in the end I decided to write it, because after all I never posted anything written here, so I decided to try this little story :3

the past of Classic

It was a perfect day, the sun was shining high in the sky and a light breeze blew that caressed the skin and bones of the couple, the skeleton was lying on the grass, holding his head resting on his arm, while the human had his head resting on the chest of the skeleton.

Several times the skeleton had asked the human if she would not be more comfortable in another position but she laughed and always replied that she was in her favorite place, close to him soul and this answer made the skeleton blush every time.

They were watching the few clouds pass in the sky when the human called it "Classic?"

Classic's gaze lowered, as far as possible, to the human and said "what's Chara?"

At that point Chara lifted her torso and looked the skeleton straight in the eye, her expression hinting at a slight concern "do... do you love me?" She then asked.

The question left Classic a bit confused, he didn't understand the need for a question like "of course I love you, but... why this question?"

"It's that ... ours is actually an arranged marriage ... to unite the myriad of monsters with that of humans and making our families stronger ... so ..." but she couldn't continue the sentence because Classic lifted him torso and put a hand to her face, juggling with her brown hair that he loved so much.

"hey, don't worry about this Chara, I really love you, it's true, ours is an arranged marriage, wanted by our parents to unite families but ... when I met you .... I realized that with you I would find happiness, in fact I am very happy now, because we will get married soon" he said as he drenched the tears that, moved by Classic's words, had begun to flow down her face

Chara smiled with tears still streaming down her face "you make me very happy too Classic, I'll do everything for you"

This was the memory that had resurfaced in Classic's mind as he watched, helpless, the scene.

Chara, his beloved Chara was torturing his brother Papyrus, saw him writhing in pain screaming and begging Chara to stop, asking for help from Classic but he was impaled on the ground and could not free himself due to the difference in strength between him and Chara who, being human, was stronger than him.

"Chara now enough! Why are you doing all this ?! Papyrus has never hurt anyone! Why are you hurting him !?" He cried out hoping that his words could have an effect on the human. His soul was split in two: on the one hand the anger at seeing his dear brother tortured so cruelly, on the other he was hurt by Chara, he really loved her and seeing her hurt Papyrus was unbearable.

But even worse was his response, Chara in fact hearing the words of Classic stopped, turned to the skeleton and looked at him as if he did not understand why Classic had reacted in that way. Then he smiled, but his smile had something strange, it was no longer that sweet smile that had made Classic fall in love, it was a smile that hid something twisted, sick "Don't you understand Classic? I'm doing it for us, him" and he pointed to Papyrus who was on the ground suffering and on the verge of death "he wants to separate us, but I won't allow it, you remember right? I'll do anything for you"

"W-what do you mean? Chara don't-!" But unfortunately he could not finish the sentence that Chara gave the coup de grace to Papyrus which slowly turned to dust.

It was too much, even though he loved the woman in front of him he could not forgive her for that gesture, he felt something in his soul spring up deep inside, the love he felt for Chara had turned into hatred and was setting his soul on fire, filling every single one phalanx of a magical power unknown to him until that moment, he did not know where that power came from but he didn't care, thanks to it he was able to free himself from the magic of Chara that blocked him to the ground and attacked her with all the fury.

Chara could not defend herself, both because she did not expect an attack from his beloved, and because Classic's strength was beyond the deadly limit. She ended up on the ground, suffering but still going thanks to her determination.

Classic was panting heavily from the strain and the excessive magic that emanated from his body, he couldn't explain the reason for that force, but now that he was no longer using it he felt his bones creak, as if he were being crushed by that absurd amount of magic, it was a sensation he had only felt when he was a child and his magic was out of control but now ... it was a hundred times worse, he had even created an ecto body to consume energy but it was tremendously unstable and painful as it was crushing him bones.

Eventually he was able to focus again on who had triggered that reaction in him; Chara. He approached her trying to think licidly about what to do, but between the physical and emotional pain the only thing he thought was to turn his brother back and never see Chara again. So he reached out a hand to the woman and unleashed all his energy by combining both white and black magic, he did it almost without thinking, as if it were instinctive, as if his soul knew what to do to have Papyrus again with him.

There was an explosion of lights without sound or pressure changes, as if watching a silent slide, then in place of the girl Papyrus returned, alive.

Classic was in pain but happy to know it had worked, he didn't care what consequences his gesture would bring, or so he thought.

In fact he couldn't even greet his brother, because before he woke up two creatures appeared, two skeletons, one completely black with tentacles and horns while the other was white and dressed in yellow, with a halo and wings, the first looked at him disgusted and annoyed, the second instead was very sorry but also annoyed.

"Stupid mortal, you have no idea of the misfortune your gesture will bring to this world. It is for people like you that this world is going to hell." said the black skeleton scolding Classic.

"Brother don't be so hard on him, he's just a mortal, he made a mistake but he can't understand concepts such as the balance of light and dark, plus it was still love that guided him" replied the other, he didn't seem to want to forgive Classic but still tried to understand it.

The black skeleton turned to look at his brother "love !? Don't tease me Dream! His soul was full of hate, his love was corrupted" he turned to look at Classic "and think he comes from that family. Deserves a adequate punishment. "

"I'm not saying to forgive him Nightmare, but to give him a chance to make up for his mistakes," Dream replied.

Nightmare sighed "okay, listen to me mortal good, we are the keepers of black magic and white magic, you have uncovered a forbidden power and for this reason you will now be punished, you will lose your physical remains and you will become a demon, you will live in the underworld and you will abandon the earthly world, the only way you will will be allowed to return will be in the form of a slave to the sorcerers with whom you can make a pact and get their souls, you will understand later what you will need" he said raising a hand towards Classic who began to feel something change in him, he had the sensation of becoming dust and yet he did not see his body disappear, on the contrary he clearly felt that something had appeared on his head and he felt a pain in his shoulder blades and sacrum and then clearly perceived the extra weight, horns had grown, a tail and demon wings.

"In addition since it was your ignorance that made you wrong you will have the gift of foresight, use it sparingly though because it will consume a lot of magic when you are on the mortal world" Dream added moving his hand and a small light hit Classic without hurting him.

Classic still hadn't been able to say a word since those two figures had appeared and before he could say anything a hole opened under his feet causing him to fall into the underworld to pay for his sins, he had died without even realizing it and he had left his brother alone.

But he still had to discover the worst part of what he had done.

[suckmykawaiidesu]

Compilation of Nessian Moments:  ‘A Court of Wings and Ruin ’ Edition

Hello loves! ♥️

I recently asked for a compilation list of Nessian moments and there doesn’t seems to be one so I decided to hurriedly put one together before the release of “A Court of Silver Flames”. I have probably missed some scenes but these are the ones that I came across during my re-read. I will be making a post for each book and will link them once available:

A Court of Mist and Fury

ACOMAF Target Exclusive Story uploaded by bookofademigod

A Court of Frost and Starlight

Sneak Peak at the end of A Court of Frost and Starlight

A Court of Wings and Ruin

Chapter 15

Nesta had been beautiful as a human woman. As High Fae, she was devastating. From the utter stillness with which Cassian stood beside me, I wondered if he thought the same thing. She was in a pewter-colored gown, its make simple, yet the material fine. Her hair was braided over the crown of her head, accentuating her long, pale neck—a neck Cassian’s eyes darted to, then quickly away from, as she sized us up and said to me, “You’re back.” With her hair styled like that, it hid the pointed ears. But there was nothing to hide the ethereal grace as she took one step. As her focus again returned to Cassian and she added,

“What do you want?”

But Cassian sauntered over to Nesta, a half smile spreading across his face. She stood stiffly while he picked up the book, read the title, and chuckled. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a romance reader.” She gave him a withering glare. “And, again, why are you here?” She snatched her book from Cassian, who allowed her to do so, but remained standing beside her. Watching every breath, every blink. “Elain’s mate is here,” I said. And it was the wrong thing to utter in Nesta’s presence. She went white with rage. “He is no such thing to her,” she snarled, advancing on me enough that Rhys slid a shield into place between us. As if he, too, had glimpsed that mighty power in her eyes that day in Hybern. And did not know how it would manifest.

“If you bring that male anywhere near her, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian crooned, trailing her at a casual pace as she stopped perhaps five feet from me. He lifted a brow as she whirled on him. “You won’t join me for practice, so you sure as hell aren’t going to hold your own in a fight. You won’t talk about your powers, so you certainly aren’t going to be able to wield them. And you—” “Shut your mouth,” she snapped, every inch the conquering empress. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, and if you—” “You come between a male and his mate, Nesta Archeron, and you’re going to learn about the consequences the hard way.” Nesta’s nostrils flared. Cassian only gave her a crooked grin.

Nesta only shook her head, turning toward the chair and her book. “I don’t care. Do what you want.” A stinging dismissal, if not admission that she still trusted me enough to consider Elain’s needs first. Rhys jerked his chin at Cassian in a silent order to leave, and as I followed them, I said softly, “I’m sorry, Nesta.” She didn’t answer as she sat stiffly in her chair, picked up her book, and dutifully ignored us. A blow to the face would have been better. When I looked ahead, I found Cassian staring back at Nesta as well. I wondered why no one had yet mentioned what now shone in Cassian’s eyes as he gazed at my sister. The sorrow. And the longing

Chapter 16 I cringed. “I guarantee Nesta is now guarding Elain. I think she might honestly kill him if he so much as tries to touch her.” “Not without training she won’t,” Cassian grumbled, tucking in his wings as he claimed the seat beside Mor that Azriel had vacated. The shadowsinger didn’t so much as look at it. No, Azriel just walked to the wall beside Cassian and leaned against the wood paneling. But Rhys and the others remained quiet enough that I knew to proceed carefully as I asked Cassian, “Nesta spoke as if you’ve been up at the House … often. You’ve offered to train her?” Cassian’s hazel eyes shuttered as he crossed a booted ankle over another, stretching his muscled legs before him. “I go up there every other day. It’s good exercise for my wings.” Those wings shifted in emphasis. Not a scratch marred them. “And?” “And what you saw in the library is a pleasanter version of the conversation we always have.” Mor’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was trying her best not to say anything. Azriel was trying his best to shoot a warning stare at Mor to remind her to indeed keep her mouth shut. As if they’d already discussed this. Many times. “I don’t blame her,” Cassian said, shrugging despite his words. “She was—violated. Her body stopped belonging wholly to her.” His jaw clenched. Even Amren didn’t dare say anything. “And I am going to peel the King of Hybern’s skin off his bones the next time I see him.”

Chapter 17 Not that there was much finery to bother with. I’d opted for my Illyrian leather pants and a loose, white shirt—and a pair of embroidered slippers that Cassian kept snorting at as we flew. When he did so for the third time in two minutes, I pinched his arm and said, “It’s hot. Those boots are stuffy.” His brows rose, the portrait of innocence. “I didn’t say anything.” “You grunted. Again.” “I’ve been living with Mor for five hundred years. I’ve learned the hard way not to question shoe choices.” He smirked. “However stupid they may be.” “It’s dinner. Unless there’s some battle planned afterward?” “Your sister will be there—I’d say that’s battle aplenty.” I casually studied his face, noting how hard he worked to keep his features neutral, to keep his gaze fixed anywhere but on my own. Rhys flew nearby, far enough to remain out of earshot as I said, “Would you use her to see if she can somehow fix the wall?” Hazel eyes shot to me, fierce and clear. “Yes. Not only for our sakes, but … she needs to get out of the House. She needs to …” Cassian’s wings kept up a steady booming beat, the new sections only detectable by their lack of scarring. “She’ll destroy herself if she stays cooped up in there.” My chest tightened. “Do …” I thought through my words. “The day she was changed, she … I felt something different with her.” I fought against the tensing in my muscles as I recalled those moments. The screaming and the blood and the nausea as I watched my sisters taken against their will, as I could do nothing, as we— I swallowed down the fear, the guilt. “It was like … everything she was, that steel and fire … It became magnified. Cataclysmic. Like … looking at a house cat and suddenly finding a panther standing there instead.” I shook my head, as if it would clear away the memory of the predator, the rage simmering in those blue-gray eyes. “I will never forget those moments,” Cassian said quietly, scenting or sensing the memories wreaking havoc on me. “As long as I live.” “Have you seen any glimpse of it since?” “Nothing.” The House loomed, golden lights at the walls of windows and doorways beckoning us closer. “But I can feel it—sometimes.” He added a bit ruefully, “Usually when she’s pissed at me. Which is … most of the time.” “Why?” They’d always been at each other’s throats, but this … yes, the dynamic between them had been different earlier. Sharper. Cassian shook his dark hair out of his eyes, slightly longer than the last time I’d seen it. “I don’t think Nesta will ever forgive me for what happened in Hybern. To her—but mostly to Elain.” “Your wings were shredded. You were barely alive.” For that was guilt—ravaging and poisonous—in each of Cassian’s words. What the others had been fighting against in the loft. “You were in no position to save anyone.” “I made her a promise.” The wind ruffled Cassian’s hair as he squinted at the sky. “And when it mattered, I didn’t keep it.” I still dreamed of him trying to crawl toward her, reaching for her even in the semiunconscious state the pain and blood loss had thrown him into. As Rhysand had once done for me during those last moments with Amarantha. Perhaps only a few wing beats separated us from the broad landing veranda, but I asked, “Why do you bother, Cassian?” His hazel eyes shuttered as we smoothly landed. And I thought he wouldn’t answer, especially not as we heard the others already in the dining room beyond the veranda, especially not when Rhys gracefully landed beside us and strode in ahead with a wink. But Cassian said quietly as we headed for the dining room, “Because I can’t stay away.”

Chapter 17 His focus shifted behind me before he replied—and Lucien shut his mouth. His metal eye whirred softly. I followed his glance, and tried not to tense as Nesta stepped into the room. Yes, devastating was a good word for how lovely she’d become as High Fae. And in a long-sleeved, dark blue gown that clung to her curves before falling gracefully to the ground in a spill of fabric … Cassian looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

Chapter 19 Something drew Cassian’s attention behind me. And even as his body remained casual, a predatory gleam flickered in his eyes. I didn’t need to turn to know who was standing there. “Care to join?” Cassian purred. Nesta said, “It doesn’t look like you’re exercising anything other than your mouths.” I looked over my shoulder. My sister was in a dress of pale blue that turned her skin golden, her hair swept up, her back a stiff column. I scrambled to say something, to apologize, but … not in front of him. She wouldn’t want this conversation in front of Cassian. Cassian extended a wrapped hand, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. “Scared?” I wisely kept my mouth shut as Nesta stepped from the open doorway into the blinding light of the courtyard. “Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?” I choked, and Cassian shot me a warning glare, daring me to laugh. But I felt for that bond in my mind, lowering my mental shields enough to say to Rhysand, wherever he was in the city, Please come spare me from Cassian and Nesta’s bickering. A heartbeat later, Rhys crooned, Regretting becoming High Lady? I savored that voice—that humor. But I shoved that simmering panic down again as I countered, Is this part of my duties? A sensual, dark laugh. Why do you think I was so desperate for a partner? I’ve had almost five centuries to deal with this alone. It’s only fair you have to endure it now. Cassian was saying to Nesta, “Seems like you’re a little on edge, Nesta. And you left so abruptly last night … Any way I can help ease that tension?”

Chapter 22 The Carver purred to Cassian, “If I tell you a secret, warrior-heart, what will you give me?” Neither of us spoke. Carefully—we’d have to phrase and do this so carefully. The Carver stroked the shard of bone in his palm, attention fixed upon a stone-faced Cassian. “What if I tell you what the rock and darkness and sea beyond whispered to me, Lord of Bloodshed? How they shuddered in fear, on that island across the sea. How they trembled when she emerged. She took something—something precious. She ripped it out with her teeth.” Cassian’s golden-brown face had drained of color, his wings tucking in tight. “What did you wake that day in Hybern, Prince of Bastards?” My blood went cold. “What came out was not what went in.” A rasping laugh as the Carver laid the shard of bone on the ground beside him. “How lovely she is—new as a fawn and yet ancient as the sea. How she calls to you. A queen, as my sister once was. Terrible and proud; beautiful as a winter sunrise.” Rhys had warned me of the inmates’ capacity to lie, to sell anything, to get free. “Nesta,” the Bone Carver murmured. “Nes-ta.” I squeezed Cassian’s hand. Enough. It was enough of this teasing and taunting. But he didn’t look at me. “How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too? Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.” I wasn’t sure Cassian was breathing. “What did she do, drowning in the ageless dark? What did she take?” It was the bite in the last word that snapped my tether of restraint. “If you wish to find out, perhaps you should stop talking long enough for us to explain.” My voice seemed to shake Cassian free of whatever trance he’d been in. His breathing surged, tight and fast, and he scanned my face—apology in his eyes.

Chapter 23 “Would you be frightened of her, if Nesta was—Death? Or if her power came from it?” Cassian was quiet for a long moment. He said at last, “I’m a warrior. I’ve walked beside Death my entire life. I would be more afraid for her, to have that power. But not afraid of her.” He considered, and added after a heartbeat, “Nothing about Nesta could frighten me.”

Chaper 24 Mercifully, or perhaps not, Nesta’s retching filled the silence. Cassian gaped at Rhys. “What did you do?” “I asked him the same thing,” I said, crossing my arms. “He said he ‘went fast.’ ” Nesta vomited again—then silence. Cassian sighed at the ceiling. “She’ll never fly again.” The doorknob twisted, and we tried—or at least Cassian and I did—not to seem like we’d been listening to her. Nesta’s face was still greenish-pale, but … Her eyes burned. There was no way of describing that burning—and even painting it might have failed. Her eyes remained the same blue-gray as my own. And yet … Molten ore was all I could think of. Quicksilver set aflame. She advanced a step toward us. All her attention fixed on Rhys. Cassian casually stepped in her path, wings folded in tight. Feet braced apart on the carpet. A fighting stance—casual, but … his Siphons glimmered. “Do you know,” Cassian drawled to her, “that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?” Nesta’s burning gaze slid to him, still outraged—but hinted with incredulity. He just went on, “It was Amren’s fault, of course, but no one believed me. And no one dared banish her.” She blinked slowly. But the burning, molten gaze became mortal. Or as mortal as one of us could be. Until Lucien breathed, “What are you?” Cassian didn’t seem to dare take his focus off Nesta. 

Chapter 27 Cassian had stationed himself by the doorway, I realized, to be closer to Nesta. To grab her if Amren decided she didn’t particularly care for where this conversation was headed. Or for any of the furniture in this room. Precisely why Rhys now placed himself on Amren’s other side—to draw her attention away from me, and Mor behind us, every muscle in her lithe body on alert. Cassian was staring at Nesta—hard enough that my sister at last twisted toward him. Met his gaze. His head tilted—slightly. A silent order.

Cassian casually slid Nesta behind him, his fingers snagging in the skirts of her black gown. As if to reassure himself that she wasn’t in Amren’s direct path. Nesta only rose onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.

Chapter 30 Both males went a bit still. But Azriel sketched a bow—while Cassian stalked for the dining table, reached right over Nesta’s shoulder, and grabbed a muffin from its little basket. “Morning, Nesta,” he said around a mouth of blueberry-lemon. “Elain.”

Cassian finished the muffin, licking his fingers. I could have sworn Nesta watched the entire thing with a sidelong glance. He grinned at her as if he knew it, too. “Ready for some flying, Nes?” “Don’t call me that.” The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up. I chose that moment to winnow to the skies above the House, chuckling as wind carried me through the world. Some sisterly payback, I supposed. For Nesta’s general attitude. Mercifully, no one saw my slightly better crash landing on the veranda, and by the time Cassian’s dark figure appeared in the sky, Nesta’s hair bright as bronze in the morning sun, I’d brushed off the dirt and dust from my leathers. My sister’s face was wind-flushed as Cassian gently set her down. Then she strode for the glass doors without a single look back. “You’re welcome,” Cassian called after her, more than a bite to his voice. His hands clenched and slackened at his sides—as if he were trying to loosen the feel of her from his palms.

Chapter 31 In the terrible silence, Cassian hauled me out—toward the dim center of the pit. Nesta was standing there, arms around herself, eyes wide. Cassian only stretched out an arm for her. As if in a trance, she walked right to his side. His arms tightened around both of us, Siphons flaring, gilding the darkness with bloodred light.

Chapter 32 I wondered what had happened in those initial moments, when he’d found my sister. As if he’d read my thoughts, Rhys sent the image to me, no doubt courtesy of Cassian. Panic—and rage. That was all he knew as he shot down into the heart of the pit, spearing for that ancient darkness that had once shaken him to his very marrow. Nesta was there—and Feyre. It was the former he saw first, stumbling out of the dark, wide-eyed, her fear a tang that whetted his rage into something so sharp he could barely think, barely breathe— She let out a small, animal sound—like some wounded stag—as she saw him. As he landed so hard his knees popped. He said nothing as Nesta launched herself toward him, her dress filthy and disheveled, her arms stretching for him. He opened his own for her, unable to stop his approach, his reaching— She gripped his leathers instead. “ Feyre,” she rasped, pointing behind her with a free hand, shaking him solidly with the other. Strength—such untapped strength in that slim, beautiful body. “Hybern.” That was all he needed to hear. He drew his sword—then Rhys was arrowing for them, his power like a gods-damned volcanic eruption. Cassian charged ahead into the gloom, following the screaming—

Chapter 39 But Nesta was glancing between us all, her back still stiff, mouth a thin line. “Where is he?” “Who?” Rhys crooned. “Cassian.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard his name from her lips. Cassian had always been him or that one. And Nesta had been … pacing in the foyer. As if she was worried. I opened my mouth, but Mor beat me to it. “He’s busy.” I’d never heard her voice so … sharp. Icy. Nesta held Mor’s stare. Her jaw tightened, then relaxed, then tightened—as if fighting some battle to keep questions in. Mor didn’t drop her gaze. Mor had never seemed ruffled by mention of Cassian’s past lovers. Perhaps because they’d never meant much—not in the ways that counted. But if the Illyrian warrior no longer stood as a physical and emotional buffer between her and Azriel … And worse, if the person who caused that vacancy was Nesta … Mor said flatly, “When he gets back, keep your forked tongue behind your teeth.” My heart leaped into a furious beat, my arms slack at my sides at the insult, the threat. But Rhys said, “Mor.” She slowly—so slowly—looked at him. There was nothing but uncompromising will in Rhys’s face. “We now leave for the meeting in three days. Send out dispatches to the other High Lords to inform them. And I’m done debating where to meet. Pick a place and be done with it.” She stared him down for a heartbeat, then dragged her gaze back to my sister. Nesta’s face had not altered, the coldness limning it unbending. She was so still she seemed to barely be breathing. But she did not balk. She did not avert her eyes from the Morrigan. Mor vanished with hardly a blink. Nesta only turned and headed for the sitting room, where I noticed books had been laid on the low-lying table before the hearth.

Behind us, Amren murmured to Nesta, “Cassian has gone to war many times, girl. He isn’t general of Rhys’s forces for nothing. This battle was a skirmish compared to what lies ahead. He’s likely visiting the families of the fallen as we speak. He’ll be back before the meeting.” Nesta said, “I don’t care.”

Chapter 42 Nesta only lifted her chin. “I …” I’d never seen her stumble for words. “I do not want to be remembered as a coward.” “No one would say that,” I offered quietly. “I would.” Nesta surveyed us all, her gaze jumping past Cassian. Not to slight him, but… avoid answering the look he was giving her. Approval—more. “It was some distant thing,” she said. “War. Battle. It … it’s not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means …telling them what happened.”

Mor sagged a bit, jewelry glinting with the movement, and went to take Cassian’s arm. But he’d at last approached Nesta. And as the world began to turn to shadows and wind, I saw Cassian tower over my sister, saw her chin lift defiantly, and heard him growl, “Hello, Nesta.” Rhys seemed to halt his winnowing as my sister said, “So you’re alive.” Cassian bared his teeth in a feral grin, wings flaring slightly. “Were you hoping otherwise?” Mor was watching—watching so closely, every muscle tense. She again reached for his arm, but Cassian angled out of reach, not tearing his eyes from Nesta’s blazing gaze. Nesta blurted, “You didn’t come to—” She stopped herself. The world seemed to go utterly still at that interrupted sentence, nothing and no one more so than Cassian. He scanned her face as if furiously reading some battle report. Mor just watched as Cassian took Nesta’s slim hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. As he folded in his wings and blindly reached his other hand back toward Mor in a silent order to transport them. Cassian’s eyes did not leave Nesta’s; nor did hers leave his. There was no warmth, no tenderness on either of their faces. Only that raging intensity, that blend of contempt and understanding and fire. Rhys began to winnow us again, and just as the dark wind swept in, I heard Cassian say to Nesta, his voice low and rough, “The next time, Emissary, I’ll come say hello.”

Chapter 44 “You’re insane,” I breathed to Tamlin as Varian bared his teeth. “Do you hear what you’re saying?” I pointed toward Nesta. “Hybern turned my sisters into Fae—after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!” “Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress—I’m sure the trait runs in the family.” Nesta let out a low laugh. “If you want someone to blame for all of this,” she said to Tamlin, “perhaps you should first look in the mirror.” Tamlin snarled at her. Cassian snarled right back, “Watch it.” Tamlin looked between my sister and Cassian—his gaze lingering on Cassian’s wings, tucked in behind him. Snorted. “Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.”

Chapter 45 Rhys lifted a brow. “Your staggering generosity aside, will you be joining our forces?” “I have not yet decided.” Eris went so far as to give his father a look bordering on reproach. From genuine alarm or for what that refusal might mean for our own covert alliance, I couldn’t tell. “Armies take time to raise,” Cassian said. “You don’t have the luxury of sitting on your ass. You need to rally your soldiers now.” Beron only sneered. “I don’t take orders from the bastards of lesser fae whores.” My heartbeat was so wild I could hear it in every corner of my body, feel it pounding in my arms, my gut. But it was nothing compared to the wrath on Cassian’s face—or the icy rage on Azriel’s and Rhys’s. And the disgust on Mor’s. “That bastard,” Nesta said with utter coolness, though her eyes began to burn, “may wind up being the only person standing in the way of Hybern’s forces and your people.” She didn’t so much as look at Cassian as she said it. But he stared at her—as if he’d never seen her before.

Chapter 47 Helion paused his debating the wall to survey her carefully, as he had done earlier. Spell-Cleaver. That was his title. She surveyed him with her usual disdain. But Helion gave her the same bow he’d offered me—though his smile was edged with enough sensuality that even my heart raced a bit. No wonder the Lady of Autumn hadn’t stood a chance. “I don’t think we were introduced properly earlier,” he crooned to Nesta. “I’m—” “I don’t care,” Nesta said with a snap of her wrist, striding right past him and up to my side. “I’d like a word,” she said. “Now.” Cassian was biting his knuckle to keep from laughing—at the utter surprise and shock on Helion’s face. It wasn’t every day, I supposed, that anyone of either sex dismissed him so thoroughly. I threw the High Lord a semi-apologetic glance and led my sister out of the room. “What is it?” I asked when Nesta and I had entered her bedroom, the space bedecked in pink silk and gold, accents of ivory scattered throughout. The lavishness of it indeed put our various homes to shame. “We need to leave,” Nesta said. “Right now.” Every sense went on alert. “Why?” “It feels wrong. Something feels wrong.” I studied her, the clear sky beyond the towering, drape-framed windows. “Rhys and the others would sense it. You’re likely just picking up on all the power gathered here.” “Something is wrong,” Nesta insisted. “I’m not doubting you feel that way but … If none of the others are picking it up—” “I am not like the others.” Her throat bobbed. “We need to leave.” “I can send you back to Velaris, but we have things to discuss here—” “I don’t care about me, I—” The door opened, and Cassian stalked in, face grave. The sight of the wings, the Illyrian armor in this opulent, pink-filled room planted itself in my mind, the painting already taking form, as he said, “What’s wrong.” He studied every inch of her. As if there were nothing and no one else here, anywhere. But I said, “She senses something is off—says we need to leave right away.” I waited for the dismissal, but Cassian angled his head. “What, precisely, feels wrong?” Nesta stiffened, mouth pursing as she weighed his tone. “It feels like there’s this …dread. This sense that … that I forgot something but can’t remember what.” Cassian stared at her for a moment longer. “I’ll tell Rhys.” And he did.

Chapter 48 Nesta let out a breathy, sharp noise and surged from her chair. I lunged for her, nearly tripping over the skirts of my dress as she staggered back, a hand clutching at her chest. Another step would have taken her stumbling into the reflection pool, but Mor sprang forward, gripping her. “What’s wrong?” Mor demanded, holding my sister upright as her face contorted in what looked to be—pain. Confusion and pain. Sweat beaded on Nesta’s brow, though her face went deathly pale. “Something …” The word was cut off by a low groan. She sagged, and Mor caught her fully, scanning Nesta’s face. Cassian was instantly there, his hand at her back, teeth bared at the invisible threat.

Chapter 49 Nesta smoothed a hand down her dark dress. “What do I do now?” A purpose, I realized. Assigning her the task of finding a way to repair the holes in the wall … it had given my sister what perhaps our human lives had never granted her: a bearing. “You come with us—to Graysen’s estate, and then travel with the army. If you’re connected with the Cauldron, then we’ll need you close. Need you to tell us if it’s being wielded again.” Not quite a mission, but Nesta nodded all the same. Right as Cassian clapped Rhys on the shoulder and prowled toward us. He paused a foot away, and frowned. “Dresses aren’t good for flying, ladies.” Nesta didn’t reply. He lifted a brow. “No barking and biting today?” But Nesta didn’t rise to meet him, her face still drained and sallow. “I’ve never worn pants,” was all she said. I could have sworn concern flashed across Cassian’s features. But he brushed it aside and drawled, “I have no doubt you’d start a riot if you did.” No reaction. Had the Cauldron— Cassian stepped in Nesta’s path when she tried to walk past him. Put a tan, callused hand on her forehead. She shook off the touch, but he gripped her wrist, forcing her to meet his stare. “Any one of those human pricks makes a move to hurt you,” he breathed, “and you kill them.” He wouldn’t be coming—no, he’d be mustering the full might of the Illyrian legions. Azriel would be joining us, though. Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta’s hand. “Ash can kill you now,” he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. “A scratch can make you queasy enough to be vulnerable. Remember where the exits are in every room, every fence and courtyard— mark them when you go in, and mark how many men are around you. Mark where Rhys and the others are. Don’t forget that you’re stronger and faster. Aim for the soft parts,” he added, folding her fingers around the hilt. “And if someone gets you into a hold …” My sister said nothing as Cassian showed her the sensitive areas on a man. Not just the groin, but the inside of the foot, pinching the thigh, using her elbow like a weapon. When he finished, he stepped back, his hazel eyes churning with some emotion I couldn’t place. Nesta surveyed the fine dagger in her hand. Then lifted her head to look at him. “I told you to come to training,” Cassian said with a cocky grin, and strode off. I studied Nesta, the dagger, her quiet, still face. “Don’t even start,” she warned me, and headed for the stairs.

Chapter 51 On and on they went, until Devlon looked over Rhys’s shoulder—to where we stood. A scowl at Mor. A frown at me—wisely subdued. Then he noticed Nesta. “What is that,” Devlon asked. Nesta merely stared at him, one hand clamping the edges of her gray cloak together at her chest. One of the other camp-lords made some sign against evil. “That,” Cassian said too quietly, “is none of your concern.” “Is she a witch.” I opened my mouth, but Nesta said flatly, “Yes.” And I watched as nine full-grown, weathered Illyrian warlords flinched. “She may act like one sometimes,” Cassian clarified, “but no—she is High Fae.” “She is no more High Fae than we are,” Devlon countered.

Chapter 56 But Nesta had jolted to her feet, staring at Cassian, at the helmet he had tucked into the crook of his arm, the weapons still poking above his shoulder, in need of cleaning. His dark hair hung limp with sweat, his face was mud-splattered where even the helmet had not kept it out. But she surveyed his seven Siphons, the dim red stones. And then she said, “You’re hurt.” Rhys snapped to attention at that. Cassian’s face was grim—his eyes glassy. “It’s fine.” Even the words were laced with exhaustion. But she reached for his arm—his shield arm. Cassian seemed to hesitate, but offered it to her, tapping the Siphon atop his palm. The armor slid back a fraction over his forearm, revealing— “You know better than to walk around with an injury,” Rhys said a bit tensely. “I was busy,” Cassian said, not taking his focus off Nesta as she studied the swollen wrist. How she’d detected it through the armor … She must have read it in his eyes, his stance. I hadn’t realized she’d been observing the Illyrian general enough to notice his tells. “And it’ll be fixed by morning,” Cassian added, daring Rhys to say otherwise. But Nesta’s pale fingers gently probed his golden-brown skin, and he hissed through his teeth. “How do I fix it?” she asked. Her hair had been tied in a loose knot atop her head earlier in the day, and in the hours that we’d worked to ready and distribute supplies to the healers, through the heat and humidity, stray tendrils had come free to curl about her temple, her nape. Faint color had stained her cheeks from the sun, and her forearms, bare beneath the sleeves she’d rolled up, were flecked with mud. Cassian slowly sat on the log where she’d been perched a moment before, groaning softly—as if even that movement taxed him. “Icing it usually helps, but wrapping it will just lock it in place long enough for the sprain to repair itself—” She reached for the basket of bandages she’d been preparing, then for the pitcher at her feet. I was too tired to do anything other than watch as she washed his wrist, his hand, her own fingers gentle. Too tired to ask if she possessed the magic to heal it herself. Cassian seemed too weary to speak as well while she wrapped bandages around his wrist, only grunting to confirm if it was too tight or too loose, if it helped at all. But he watched her— didn’t take his eyes off her face, the brows bunched and lips pursed in concentration. And when she’d tied it neatly, his wrist wrapped in white, when Nesta made to pull back, Cassian gripped her fingers in his good hand. She lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. Nesta did not yank her hand away. Did not open her mouth for some barbed retort. She only stared and stared at him, at the breadth of his shoulders, even more powerful in that beautiful black armor, at the strong column of his tan neck above it, his wings. And then at his hazel eyes, still riveted to her face. Cassian brushed a thumb down the back of her hand. Nesta opened her mouth at last, and I braced myself— “You’re hurt?” At the sound of Mor’s voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted toward Mor with a lazy smile. “Nothing for you to cry over, don’t worry.” Nesta dragged her stare from his face—down to her now-empty hand, her fingers still curled as if his palm lay there. Cassian didn’t look at Nesta as she rose, snatching up the pitcher, and muttered something about getting more water from inside the tent. Cassian and Mor fell into their banter, laughing and taunting each other about the battle and the ones ahead. Nesta didn’t come back out again for some time.

Chapter 56

Nesta did not flinch at the clash and din of battle. She only stared toward one blackarmored figure, leading the lines, his occasional order to push or to hold that flank barking across the battle.

Chapter 57 Nesta laid a hand against her bare, rain-slick throat. Cassian began another assault on a Hybern captain—slower this time than he’d been. Now. I had to go now—quickly. I took a step away from the outlook. My sister narrowed her brows at me. “You’re leaving?” “I’ll be back soon,” was all I said. I didn’t dare wonder how much of our army would be left when I did. By the time I strode away, Nesta had already faced the battle once more, rain plastering her hair to her head. Resuming her unending vigil of the general battling on the valley floor below.

Chapter 61 I squinted at the watery light—the very last before true dark. When my vision adjusted… Nesta stood by the nearest tent, an empty water bucket between her feet. Her hair a damp mess atop her mud-flecked head. Watching us emerge, grim-faced— “He’s fine. Healed and awake,” I said quickly. Nesta’s shoulders sagged a bit. She’d saved me the trouble of hunting her down to ask her about tracking the Cauldron. Better to do it now, with some privacy. Especially before Amren arrived. But Mor said coldly, “Shouldn’t you be refilling that bucket?” Nesta went stiff. Sized up Mor. But Mor didn’t flinch from that look. After a moment, Nesta picked up her bucket, mud caked up to her shins, and continued on, steps squelching.

Chapter 62 Nesta still didn’t move. She could not use the bathtub, she’d told me. Because the memories it dragged up— Cassian said to her, “Nothing can harm you here.” He sucked in a breath, groaning softly, and rose to his feet. Azriel tried to stop him, but Cassian brushed him off and strode for my sister’s side. He braced a hand on the desk when he at last stopped. “Nothing can harm you,” he repeated. Nesta was still looking at him when she finally shut her eyes. I shifted, and the angle allowed me to see what I hadn’t detected before. Nesta stood before the map, a fist of bones and stones clenched over it. Cassian remained at her side—his other hand on her lower back. And I marveled at the touch she allowed—marveled at it as much as I did the mudsplattered hand she held out. The concentration that settled over her face. Her eyes shifted beneath their lids, as if scanning the world. “I don’t see anything.” “Go deeper,” Amren urged. “Find that tether between you.” She stiffened, but Cassian stepped closer, and she settled again. A minute went by. Then another. A muscle twitched on Nesta’s brow. Her hand bobbed. Her breath then came fast and hard, her lips curling back as she panted through her teeth. “Nesta,” Cassian warned.

Chapter 63 Cassian chuckled hoarsely, and looked to Nesta, who remained pale and quiet. What she’d seen, what I’d seen in her mind… The size of that army… “Eat or bed?” Cassian had asked Nesta, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he’d meant it as some invitation. I debated telling him he was in no shape. Nesta only said, “Bed.” And there was certainly no invitation in the exhausted reply.

Chapter 64 “We’ll get her back,” Cassian rasped from where he perched on the rolled arm of the chaise longue across the small sitting area, watching her carefully. Rhys, Amren, and Mor were meeting with the other High Lords, informing them what had been done. Seeing if they knew anything. Had any way of helping. Nesta lowered her hands, lifting her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lips thin. “No, you will not.” She pointed to the map on the table. “I saw that army. Its size, who is in it. I saw it, and there is no chance of any of you getting into its heart. Even you,” she added when Cassian opened his mouth again. “Especially not when you’re injured.”

Chapter 66 “Good,” Cassian said, glancing at Nesta. “If I end my life defending those who need it most, then I will consider it a death well spent.” Lord Devlon, for once, nodded his approval. I wondered if Cassian noticed it—if he cared. His face revealed nothing, not as his focus remained wholly on my sister.

Chapter 69 During the brief midday break in a large meadow, Nesta and I climbed inside one of the supply caravan’s covered wagons to change into Illyrian fighting leathers. When we emerged, Nesta even buckled a knife at her side. Cassian had insisted, yet he’d admitted that since she was untrained, she was just as likely to hurt herself as she was to hurt someone else.

Chapter 70 Nesta pushed herself onto her elbows, hair shaking free of her braid, lips bloodless. She heaved into the grass. Rhys’s magic shot out of him, arcing around our entire army, his breathing a wet rasp— Nesta’s hands grappled into the grass as she lifted her head, scanning the horizon. Like she could see right to where the Cauldron was now about to be unleashed. Rhys’s power flowed and flowed out of him, bracing for impact. Azriel’s Siphons flashed, a sprawling shield of cobalt locking over Rhysand’s, his breathing just as heavy as my mate’s— And then Nesta began screaming. Not in pain. But a name. Over and over. “CASSIAN.” Amren reached for her, but Nesta roared, “CASSIAN!” She scrambled to her feet, as if she’d leap into the skies. Her body lurched, and she went down, heaving again. A figure shot from the Illyrian ranks, spearing for us, flapping hard, red Siphons blazing— Nesta moaned, writhing on the ground. The earth seemed to shudder in response. No—not in response to her. In terror of the thing that erupted from Hybern’s army. I understood why the king had claimed those rocky foothills. Not to make us charge uphill if we should push them so far. But to position the Cauldron. For it was from the rocky outcropping that a battering ram of death-white light hurled for our army. Just about level with the Illyrian legion in the sky—as the Attor’s legion dropped to the earth, and ducked for cover. Leaving the Illyrians exposed. Cassian was halfway to us when the Cauldron’s blast hit the Illyrian forces. I saw him scream—but heard nothing. The force of that power… It shredded Azriel’s shield. Then Rhysand’s. And then shredded any Siphon-made ones. It hollowed out my ears and seared my face. And where a thousand soldiers had been a heartbeat before… Ashes rained down upon our foot soldiers. Nesta had known. She gaped up at me, terror and agony on her face, then scanned the sky for Cassian, who flapped in place, as if torn between coming for us and charging back to the scattering Illyrian and Peregryn ranks. She’d known where that blast was about to hit. Cassian had been right in the center of it. Or would have been, if she hadn’t called him away. Rhys was looking at her like he knew, too. Like he didn’t know whether to scold her for the guilt Cassian would no doubt feel, or thank her for saving him. Nesta’s body went stiff again, a low moan breaking from her. I felt Rhys cast out his power—a silent warning signal. The other High Lords raised shields this time, backing the one he rallied. But the Cauldron did not hit the same spot twice. And Hybern was willing to incinerate part of his own army if it meant wiping out a strength of ours. Cassian was again hurtling for us, for Nesta sprawled on the ground, as the light and unholy heat of the Cauldron were unleashed again.

Nesta had her brow in the grass as Cassian landed so hard the ground shuddered. He was reaching for her as he panted, “What is it, what—” “It’s gone quiet again,” Nesta breathed, letting Cassian haul her into a sitting position as he scanned her face. Devastation and rage lay in his own. Did he know? That she had screamed for him, knowing he’d come… That she’d done it to save him? Rhys only ordered him, “Get back in line. The soldiers need you there.” Cassian bared his teeth. “What the hell can we do against that?”

Chapter 72 Rhys made to shoot me back down to the ground, where Amren and Elain were still waiting. Nesta said, “Wait.” Rhys obeyed. Nesta stared toward that armada, toward our father fighting in it. “Use me. As bait.” I blinked at the same moment Cassian said, “No.” Nesta ignored him. “The king is probably waiting beside that Cauldron. Even if you get there, you’ll have him to contend with. Draw him out. Draw him far away. To me.” “How,” Rhys said softly. “It goes both ways,” Nesta murmured, as if my mate’s words moments before had triggered the idea. “He doesn’t know how much I took. And if … if I make it seem like I’m about to use his power … He’ll come running. Just to kill me.” “He will kill you,” Cassian snarled. Her hand clenched on his arm. “That’s—that’s where you come in.” To guard her. Protect her. To lay a trap for the king. “No,” Rhys said. Nesta snorted. “You’re not my High Lord. I may do as I wish. And since he’ll sense that you’re with me… You need to go far away, too.” Rhys said to Cassian, “I’m not letting you throw your life away for this.” I was inclined to agree. Cassian surveyed the depleted Illyrian lines, now holding strong as Azriel rallied them. “Az has control of the lines.” “I said no,” Rhys snapped. I’d never heard him use that tone with Cassian, with any of them. Cassian said steadily, “It’s the only shot we have of a diversion. Luring him away from that Cauldron.” His hands tightened on Nesta. “You gave everything, Rhys. You went through that hell for us, for fifty years.” He’d never addressed it—not fully. “You think I don’t know what happened? I know, Rhys. We all do. And we know you did it to save us, spare us.” He shook his head, sunlight glinting off that dark, winged helmet. “Let us return the favor. Let us repay the debt.” “There is no debt to repay.” Rhys’s voice broke. The sound of it cracked my heart. Cassian’s own voice broke as he said, “I never got to repay your mother—for her kindness. Let me do it this way. Let me buy you time.” “I can’t.” I wasn’t sure if in the entire history of Illyria, there had ever been such a discussion. “You can,” Cassian said gently. “You can, Rhys.” He gave a lazy grin. “Save some of the glory for the rest of us.” “Cassian—” But Cassian asked Nesta, “Do you have what you need?” Nesta nodded. “Amren showed me enough. What to do to rally the power to me.” And if Amren and I could control the Cauldron between us… That distraction they’d offer … Nesta looked down to Elain—our sister monitoring the bloodbath ahead. Then to me. She said quietly, “Tell Father—thank you.” She wrapped her arms tightly around Cassian, those gray-blue eyes bright, then they were gone.

Chapter 74 Nesta surged to her feet, staggering across the clearing, blood at her mouth from where he’d hit her, and threw herself to her knees before Cassian. “Get up,” she sobbed, hauling at his shoulder. “Get up.” He tried—and failed. “You’re too heavy,” she pleaded, but still tried to raise him, fingers scrabbling in his black, bloodied armor. “I can’t—he’s coming—” “Go,” Cassian groaned. Her power had stopped hurling the king across the forest. He now stalked toward them, brushing off splinters and leaves from his jacket—taking his time. Knowing she would not leave. Savoring the awaiting slaughter. Nesta gritted her teeth, trying to haul Cassian up once more. A broken sound of pain ripped from him. “Go! ” he barked at her. “I can’t,” she breathed, voice breaking. “I can’t.” The same words Rhys had given him. Cassian grunted in pain, but lifted his bloodied hands—to cup her face. “I have no regrets in my life, but this.” His voice shook with every word. “That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta.” She didn’t stop him as he leaned up and kissed her—lightly. As much as he could manage. Cassian said softly, brushing away the tear that streaked down her face, “I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.” The King of Hybern stepped into that clearing, dark power wafting from his fingertips. And even the Cauldron seemed to pause in surprise—surprise or some … feeling as Nesta looked at the king with death twining around his hands, then down at Cassian. And covered Cassian’s body with her own. Cassian went still— then his hand slid over her back. Together. They’d go together. I will offer you a bargain, I said to the Cauldron. I will offer you my soul. Save them. “Romantic,” the king said, “but ill-advised.” Nesta did not move from where she shielded Cassian’s body.

Chapter 80 My sister had barely spoken, barely eaten these past few days. Had not visited Cassian in his healing bed. Still had not talked to me about what had happened.

- END - 

[heathermorningstar0510]

Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave

Chapter 2- Listen To Your Heart (Through Fire)

Warning- swearing, mention of death

This chapter is from Emmett’s POV. I’m also horrible with names, so since Emmett didn’t have a last name in the movie I borrowed one from another Cillian role!

“This is all their fault, they brought that creature here!” A strange voice yelled, dragging Emmett back to consciousness.

“You know that’s a lie. We’ve all seen the boat the creature came over on, no human would have lasted on there with it. This could have happened at any point, which is what I have been telling all of you for months but almost no one wanted to listen to me. I was just paranoid, remember? If it wasn’t for Regan and Emmett we’d all be dead! Last time I checked though, you don’t run this community.” Katherine stated calmly and Emmett recognized that deceptive tone. He could hear the fire edging into her voice and knew that whoever she was talking to was sure to lose the fight. He himself had been on the receiving end of that anger more than once.

“They have to leave, they can’t stay.” The person repeated.

“If they leave, I leave. It’ll take me an hour to pack what I need.” the icy tone in her words indicating that she meant every one. “Just give me an hour Denny, and then we’ll be out of here and you can go back to living with your head’s up your asses.”

“Now wa-wait a minute Katie. There’s no reason you have to leave too.” Denny stuttered nervously.

“No, if you force them out you force me out too. I’m not leaving a child to take care of an injured man.  It would be a death sentence for the both of them. I care about them and I won’t let them die alone. Unlike you I won’t sacrifice someone for my own safety, I’m not a monster.” Katherine spat back venomously.

“Don’t you dare bring that up you bitch!”

“Or what, huh, what are you going to do about it Denny? Kill me too? Go on then!” Katie yelled back voice dripping with a hatred Emmett had never heard from her before.

Before the argument could get any more heated, a voice that sounded frail and elderly spoke up, “If she leaves I’m leaving too.”

“No mama Lou.” Katie began to protest but was quickly shut down by several others in the crowd stating that they too would leave. Emmett was shocked to hear so many people taking their side, simply assuming that more people would be like Denny and blame them for causing such devastation. Maybe, just maybe there might still be some good and decent people left in this world after all he thought.

“Face it man, you’ve lost. Half the island would leave if she goes.” a male voice taunted.

“Fuck you Chase! Fine, they can stay. Since I’m outnumbered” Denny angrily replied and it sounded as if the crowd began to disperse.

“Thank you mama Lou, but I don’t know what on Earth possessed you to say that.” Katie whispered though Emmett could still hear her every word.

“I saw the way you looked at him last night. He’s the boy you told me about isn’t he? The one you loved when you were young, the one you still love. This world needs more of that sweetie, especially now. Listen to your heart.” The elderly lady simply stated.

Emmett took a shaky breath not hearing any of the rest of the conversation. After all this time she still loved him, it took him by surprise. He had never stopped loving her. Sure, he loved Nora and his kids and he wouldn’t have changed them for the world. But there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t think about her, his Katie. He had always felt so guilty about it and he was convinced that she had forgotten all about him. Nora never talked about her at all and Lee and Evelyn didn’t talk about her much. It was like they knew it still hurt. But on occasion, usually after a few too many when he would finally get the nerve to ask, they would tell him bits about her life. Lee told him she had been stationed in Hawaii but was choosing to spend as much time deployed as she could. Evelyn told him of her accomplishments, medals and awards and he felt immensely proud and only slightly heartbroken when they showed him the pictures she’d sent of her re-enlistment ceremony with the Pearl Harbor Monument shining in the background and her uniform crisp and white in the warm sunshine. What he never knew was that they did the same in turn when Katie asked about him, sending her pictures of him and the boys and telling her how well he was doing at the factory with her feeling the same sense of heartbroken pride when she learned of what an amazing father and husband he had become.

The opening of the door pulled him from his thoughts as Katie quietly crept into the room. However, she quickly saw that Regan was the only one still sleeping. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” She smiled at him, the smallest of smiles almost like she was afraid of his reaction. “You didn’t wake me up.” He smiled back at her and pointed to the open window. Katie’s face quickly fell and she sighed “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that you really don’t like Denny, but apparently you really like Regan and I. You didn’t have to threaten to go with us Kate, I would never ask you to go back to that hell.”

“You listen to me Emmett Miller, I would walk through a thousand hells and battle hundreds of those things for you two. That’s my best friends’ oldest baby, and you… well…” Katie faltered here, her confidence quickly failing.

“You love me.” Emmett filled in for her and watched her sharp intake of breath.

“Yes, but you have a family. So it’s not like it really matters how I feel.” She gestured half heartedly to her chest and turned towards Regan’s sleeping form trying to compose herself.

“Had a family.”

“What?” She spun back around to face him.

“I lost the boys on the first day of the invasion, Nora passed 11 weeks ago. Though if I’m being honest I lost her the day we lost the boys. I did all I could, but I know she blamed me. Hell I blame myself. I was trying to get us out of town, when those damn things attacked. One minute I was driving the next I was waking up after someone crashed into the side of the car. The boys died on impact, thankfully. They never really had to know the horror of those monsters or the fear of making noise. But I’ll never forget seeing them like that.” Emmett stopped and saw the tears shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laid that all out there.” He sighed, swiping at his own tears that had managed to escape.

“Emmett, I am so sorry. I didn’t know” Katie whispered. She silently crossed the room and grasped his hand gently. He in turn clung to her like a drowning man, allowing himself more human contact then he had in months. He tugged down on her hand until she sat beside him.

“I’ve never really told anyone other than Evelyn that and even then she didn’t know all of it,” he whispered. “And I think this is the first time I’ve cried. And this might sound crazy so please don’t judge me, but I just want you to lay here with me. I just want to feel safe for once. Can you just hold me, Katie please.” His voice cracked.

She could sense that Emmett was on the verge of breaking. He had always hid his vulnerability, afraid to seem too weak. But she knew him well enough to know when he had reached his breaking point. Katie gently laid beside him on his uninjured side, sliding her arm under him, gently pulling him into her and he turned just slightly to rest his head against her chest. She felt his arms tighten around her as the sobs finally broke free and he let out all the heartache of losing his family. Katie gently placed her lips against his hair whispering “It’s ok Em. You’re safe now and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.” And as the sun slowly faded in the sky and the shadows began to creep across the floor with the sound of waves gently crashing in the distance, Emmett slowly let down the walls he had built around his emotions and cried himself to sleep in Katie’s warm arms. And for the first time in over a year… he felt safe.