#but the truth is he would be calm and gentle and say something wise

[iztarshi]

87 Splinter is being hard to write because his thing is being Wise and Calm, but out of all Splinters he should be the least prepared for the stuff he winds up guiding the turtles through. He's just a guy who was teaching his clan's ancestral martial arts for cultural reasons. It doesn't seem like he was ever a soldier or a crime-fighter, definitely not an assassin (87 just straight up ignores what ninjas actually are a lot of the time). Despite his insistance on calling Shredder his "ancient enemy" Shredder was a surprise, there wasn't an evil guy who needed fighting until Splinter's student suddenly betrayed him and allied with an alien warlord.

Some of Splinter being Calm and Wise and always knowing the Right Thing To Do has to be a pose, right? He can't be feeling Calm and Wise all the time. He can't always be sure he's doing the right thing, although he certainly never apologises when he ends up hurting the turtles with his lessons.

Considering how gentle he is towards the turtles 90% of the time I feel like it must be intended for their sake. In an uncertain world he thinks they need an authority that can always tell them the right thing to do. His own uncertainty is something he can't show (and the few times we do see him uncertain it's on missions, especially ones where the turtles aren't present).

When I think about it the turtles are darling little guys, but they're also bigger than Splinter, capable of ripping through sheet metal, and went straight from animals to adolescents. Maybe that's another reason why he can be rigid about the moral code he imposes on them and about his own authority. We see mutants like Tokka and Rahzar and Slash who can cause a lot of damage without real ill-will just because they were suddenly thrown into a world they were unprepared for without guidance. Even though the turtles are never accepted into society properly, Splinter is very insistent on them seeing themselves as part of society, emphasising their usefulness to others as something they should be glad of. (Which actually strikes me as a very Japanese attitude, but since it's also an attitude seen in a lot of 80's cartoons that's probably a coincidence. It's certainly a contrast to the morals seen in Rise about "being yourself" and how it's a mistake to try to conform.)

I'm left with the feeling he'd be a very interesting character if the narrative didn't always go out of its way to agree with him. But I'm also at a loss for how he'd handle the kind of situations the narrative of his own show would never put him in.

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like… these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh

[syerra-637]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝔂

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐱 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary:Canute meets a mysterious woman who has clairvoyance gifts

Tw : nothing ?

Number of words : 1390

Rumors spread throughout the kingdom of Denmark about a mysterious young woman who could predict the future. She was said to be as beautiful as the moon in a night sky, as elusive as the wind that blows across the plains. But no one knew her name or where she came from.

Canute, curious and intrigued by this mysterious woman, ordered his men to find her and bring her before him. After days of searching, she was finally found in a small clearing, alone, surrounded by an aura of mystery.

When she was presented to King Canute, she was calm and reserved, her eyes hidden behind a light veil. Canute, accustomed to the politics and intrigues of the court, was immediately intrigued by the aura of mystery surrounding her.

"What is your name, my dear?" he asked in a gentle yet authoritative voice.

The mysterious woman slowly lifted her veil, revealing eyes so deep, akin to the depths of the ocean. "My name matters little, my lord," she replied in a gentle yet firm voice. "I am simply a traveler, wandering through the lands in search of something I cannot define."

Canute was captivated by the sincerity in her words, as well as the sadness that seemed to veil her gaze. This way of expressing herself, this wisdom ingrained in her being, this possibility, all of it reminded him of the monk he had met long ago when he was younger.

As evening fell slowly over the castle, bathing the room in a golden glow as Canute and the mysterious woman sat near the window, engaged in animated discussion. Canute, his mind filled with questions and curiosity, turned to her with an intense gaze.

"Tell me, they say you possess gifts of foresight," he began, his eyes scanning hers with growing fascination. "Is it true?"

The mysterious woman inclined her head slightly, her blue eyes burning with a mysterious glow. "Some claim it," she replied evasively, as if she did not want to reveal all her secrets.

Canute felt his heart beat a little faster at this enigmatic response. "Then, can you make a prediction for me?" he asked, unable to conceal his curiosity. "Something about my future, about the kingdom's destiny?"

The mysterious woman slowly raised her hand, plunging into a sort of trance as her eyes seemed to search beyond visible horizons. After a moment of silence, she spoke with a grave and distant voice.

"I see... I see a prosperous kingdom, ruled by a wise and just king," she began, her words tinged with a strange authority. "But I also see challenges ahead, trials that will test the strength and determination of its sovereign."

Canute listened attentively, hanging on every word as if his life depended on it. "What challenges?" he asked, anticipation crackling in the air like a flickering flame.

The mysterious woman shook her head slightly, as if she could not or would not say more. "Some secrets must remain buried," she murmured cryptically. "The future is uncertain ground, subject to the whims of fate."

Canute felt a slight disappointment wash over him, but he also knew that not all answers could be revealed at once. "I thank you for your vision," he said with gratitude, his gaze fixed on the enigmatic face of the mysterious woman. "Perhaps you will be there to witness its future challenges."

The mysterious woman returned his enigmatic smile, her eyes shining with a prophetic glow. "Perhaps, O king," she replied softly. "Perhaps..."

He offered her hospitality in his castle, eager to learn more about this mysterious woman who had captured his interest. As well as to further explore this gift of clairvoyance.

One day after his training, the king spotted the young woman leaning against the well. Her fingers played with a thread. The king approached the mysterious woman and questioned her about the thread.

"It is a thread of truth," she simply replied. Canute leaned slightly forward, his blue eyes sparkling with interest as he gazed at the mysterious woman opposite him. "Tell me, what is truth to you?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

The mysterious woman nodded her head, taking a moment to ponder before responding. "Truth... it's a complex question," she began, her eyes scrutinizing his with a captivating intensity. "For some, it lies in objective and measurable facts. For others, it's more subjective, depending on our individual perception of the world around us."

Canute nodded slowly, absorbing her words with growing attention. "And you, what do you think?" he asked, curious about her own convictions.

The mysterious woman smiled slightly, as if she had anticipated his question. "I believe there is a universal truth, but it is often veiled by our own biases and limited perceptions," she explained, her words imbued with profound wisdom. "The true quest for truth lies in our ability to question our own beliefs and to embrace the uncertainty that often accompanies the search for truth."

Canute remained silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling as he pondered her words. "Interesting..." he murmured finally, his gaze locked with hers. "It raises the question of the nature of knowledge. How can we be certain of what we know?"

The mysterious woman nodded in approval, seeming to appreciate the turn of the conversation. "Knowledge is often the fruit of experience and reflection," she began, her voice filled with gentle assurance. "But even then, it remains subject to interpretation and error. True wisdom lies in our ability to recognize the limits of our own understanding and to remain open to new ideas and perspectives."

Canute listened attentively, absorbing each word with growing interest. He felt fascinated by the depth of her thought, by the way she questioned the very foundations of their reality. "You are truly remarkable, you know?" he murmured finally, a smile lighting up his face. "Your words resonate with me in a way I've never felt before."

The mysterious woman returned his smile, her eyes shining with a warm glow. "And you, O king," she replied softly, "you also have a wisdom and depth that impress me. It's an honor to be able to exchange such ideas with you."

Over the days, they met often, discussing topics ranging from philosophy to politics. Canute discovered in her a rare intelligence, combined with a sweetness and grace that touched him deeply.

Gradually, a special relationship developed between the king and the mysterious woman. Their conversations became more intimate, their gazes filled with mutual understanding. Canute began to see in her much more than just a simple traveler.

As the days passed and Canute spent more and more time in the company of the mysterious woman, he began to feel something different, something he had never experienced before. Each conversation, each exchanged look seemed to deepen his sense of connection with her, until he realized with a sudden and dazzling clarity that he had fallen in love.

It was a revelation as unexpected as it was powerful. Canute, accustomed to controlling every aspect of his life, suddenly found himself prey to emotions that he could neither ignore nor master. He felt vulnerable, exposed, but at the same time, he felt alive as never before.

As he stood there, looking at the mysterious woman with a mixture of admiration and affection, he realized the irony of the situation. She, who seemed to know all the secrets of his heart, his mind, and his kingdom, was herself a mystery, an enigma.However, despite all this, or perhaps because of it, Canute felt more drawn to her than ever. He wanted to know every facet of her personality, every hidden thought behind her deep and mesmerizing eyes. He wanted to be with her, not just as king and subject, but as man and woman, united by a bond stronger than any title or responsibility.

It was thus, in this moment of revelation and acceptance, that Canute realized his heart had chosen, even if he did not yet fully understand the implications of this choice. And as he stood there, facing the mysterious woman who had stolen his heart without even trying, he knew with certainty that he would do everything in his power to win her love and trust, no matter the obstacles that might stand in their way.

[stanislawkowalski]

"The art of gambling is often as much about chance as it is about the courage to face the unknown. But then, perhaps you’re wise not to gamble recklessly. The stakes of the heart are far more perilous than any game of chance." Nastka’s eyes remained riveted on Kisumi, the heat of his gaze as palpable as a sunbeam warming the air between them. He watched with a mix of fascination and satisfaction as Kisumi’s complexion bloomed, the alcohol mingling with the raw, unfiltered response to his scrutiny. The red hue creeping up his neck and face formed a delicate tapestry of heat and intoxication, painting him in a patchwork of pale and rosy shades. This sight ignited a dangerous thrill within Nastka, an allure found in the delicate vulnerability of a man laid bare, both emotionally and physically.

As Kisumi fumbled with his shirt, his fingers unfastening the top button with a casual grace, Nastka observed with a predatory calm. The collar falling open, revealing the splotchy skin beneath, was an intimate display that only deepened Nastka’s already intense focus. The third martini had loosened Kisumi’s inhibitions, and Nastka reveled in the unfiltered expressions and confessions that emerged like secrets whispered in the dark.

Nastka smiled to himself, a darkly satisfied curve of the lips, before reaching out with a deliberate slowness. His fingers lightly brushed over the exposed skin, a teasing caress that barely grazed the surface to cover the nakedness of the situation. Stanislaw leaned forward, his breath a warm whisper against Kisumi’s ear as he murmured with a low, velvety voice, “You’re looking rather exposed.... Careful, or people might start thinking you’re inviting them to take a closer look.”

As Kisumi spoke, Nastka’s thoughts wandered through the labyrinth of his own desires. The mention of Louis’s name had a profound effect, causing Nastka’s pupils to dilate and his veins to pulse with a warmth akin to summer’s embrace. The name evoked a rare softness in Nastka’s demeanor, a gentle touch that seemed to momentarily veil his darker edges. His features softened into a tender smile, his gaze taking on an almost reverent quality, before fully pulling away.

, “the very thought of Louis brings out a side of me few have ever glimpsed. With him, it is not merely adoration or love—it is something far deeper, a raw possessiveness that burns with a hunger so fierce it is difficult to contain.”

Nastka leaned closer, the proximity adding an air of intimacy to his confession. “When I say that Louis consumes me,” he continued, his tone dark and alluring, “it is not just a figure of speech. It is a truth that resonates through every part of me. He has the power to strip away my defenses, to make me soft in ways I never thought possible. My hands, accustomed to chaos and pain, find solace in the touch of his skin. In his presence, I am both devoured and made whole.”

The words flowed from Nastka’s lips with a haunting cadence, each phrase a testament to the depth of his connection with Louis. “So, Kisumi,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “if you are concerned about being consumed, then know that what I feel for Louis is a hunger that both consumes and fulfills. It is a dance of fire and tenderness, a symbiosis of dominance and submission. And in this intricate ballet, Louis holds the power to shape me into something more... or less, depending on his whims.”

Nastka’s gaze never wavered from Kisumi’s, the intensity of his eyes a challenge and an invitation wrapped in one. “Tell me,” he asked softly, “what would you be willing to risk to find a connection as consuming as the one I share with Louis? Are you prepared to face the consuming fire of such a profound bond?”

———-💕 Usually people never inspected him as closely as Nastka was examining him currently. He felt the heat of his dark gaze making him flush. Or was that the alcohol coursing through his veins? Neither way he was feeling hot. With careful nimble fingers he unclasped the top button of his shirt letting the collar fall open wide. His skin on his chest was already splotchy red from the alcohol flush and it began to climb up the column of his neck. It left him with a patch work of pale skin and pinkish red rash, absolutely rosy.

Maybe the third martini wasn’t the best idea but how could he turn down Nastka’s generosity?

Hearing his name Kisumi refocused on Nastka instead of his drink. He had such a handsome smile, strong nose and sharp jaw. Kisumi couldn’t deny his attractiveness. Clearly the drinks were starting to work their magic since he was studying Nastka’s features rather than hear his words. Kisumi glanced down at his mouth to remind himself to pay attention. “Ah, yes, I’ve never been a good gambler.” That was the truth. He could never see the appeal of throwing away money or he wasn’t rich enough to open his wallet without care. The payout wasn’t worth the effort there. Could it be the same in love?

“It seems worthwhile to me, I don’t think I need any convincing.” To see someone like Louis get so flustered over the use of the word ‘boyfriend’ it was safe to say love made great changes in a man. That and it was fun to see him squirm. That was something Nastka and himself seemed to share. Kisumi liked the way the polish sounded coming from Nastka. “słońce, slonce.. Slońce.. I like that.” He didn’t know what the word meant but it was fun to say. It sounded far better coming from Nastka’s lips than his own.

The clang of glass knocking together cleared his mind for a moment and let Kisumi collect himself. He sipped his martini as Nastka did with his gin. The toast was to something happy, it was nice to take some time to knowledge joys when the rest of the world seemed dark.

“I’m assuming that your devotion runs deep. Considering how thrilled you are at the thought of nuptials on the horizon. I’ve never had the opportunity to fall head over heels.” He admitted, infatuation was a song and dance he was extremely familiar with. Love? It was a little foreign, he had confused the two in the past thinking he might have been in love. It paled in comparison to what Louis and Nastka shared. Maybe in the next lifetime he might find that.

“Romantic love I have no idea how far I would fall. familial though,” Kisumi paused, thoughts about his younger brother emerged, “I would easily lay down my life for someone.” There was no question he would allow Hayato to take from him whatever he needed. With a simple word Kisumi would agree to his demands. It was a terrifying thought to know that someone else could come into his life and reach the same status. Two people who could have him at their beck and call.

“Maybe it hasn’t happened because deep down I know I’ll be easily consumed.” Kisumi laughed with a bit of self deprecation. “Is that how you feel for Louis?” Kisumi inquired with absolute curiosity.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 21 - Nowhere to Run [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4300

Summary: Everyone needs a shelter.

For all your life, your sister had always said she hated watching horror movies with you because you would always criticize every character and their choices in the movie.

Who would even stay where they were when they knew there was danger outside, when they knew there was something coming for them?

You had never thought you’d learn the answer first hand;

Because there was nothing else to do, and because that was exactly what you were doing.

Spencer and the rest of his team had sent you away from that basement so that you could get some fresh air and at least attempt to get away from the greeting written on the wall with blood but you knew it was impossible.

There was no running away from that, you had seen it already.

You dangled your legs off the pier back and forth, keeping your gaze on the lake that looked so calm that it was almost like a painting. Funny, you hadn’t ever stopped to enjoy it when you were still a child, you had never actually sat there on the pier to take a breath, wrapped in the safety that would soon disappear.

The footsteps coming closer pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned you head as Spencer sat down next to you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you croaked out and he ran his fingers through his curls.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “I’m not sure what home is for me at this point, to be honest with you,” you murmured, “Besides I heard the other agents talking, you guys are going to be pretty busy the moment the rest of your team gets here.”

He heaved a sigh, biting inside his cheek but you kept your gaze on the lake.

“It makes it official right?” you asked, “All these murders…It’s not really about my father’s legacy. It’s about me.”

He stole a look at you, “Y/N…”

“It’s okay professor,” you said, “Trust me, I’m not going to run and scream.”

“The profile is changing constantly with every piece of evidence-“

“Spencer.”

He let out a breath, pursing his lips.

“It is pointing that way so far,” he muttered, “It doesn’t matter though. His legacy or an obsession with you, we’re still going to catch him.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, pointing at the woods on the other side of the lake.

“Mina and I used to play the princess and the monster over there,” you said, “I mean… It was either me who was the princess or Mina and I were saving some imaginary princess because Mina wanted to be friends with her.” You used air quotes, “I don’t know whose shock was more fake when she came out, mine or mom’s.”

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah?”

“Mm hm, and right over there,” you pointed at the right, “Linc chased me with a worm in his hand to scare me off, and I ended up falling into the damn lake.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Then Mina pushed him into the lake too and we all got grounded for the whole weekend.” You let out a breath and pointed back at the cabin with your thumb, “And right there, dad showed me how to kill someone for the first time.”

His head shot up, “What?”

You scoffed, “He didn’t tell you that during those sessions?”

Spencer shook his head, frowning.

“He taught me…” you wetted your lips, “How to- how to hunt, that’s what he called it. Predator and prey. After teaching me how to analyze places to find a weapon, he taught me how to find my way in the woods. Just in case. He used to um-“ you cleared your throat, “I don’t really remember all of it, I don’t know how much of it are nightmares or memories, but I remember once he dragged me here in the middle of the night, and he opened the door and there was this man…”

“Petal honey, don’t get so close to him,” your father called out from the kitchen he sharpened the knife as you took a step closer to the man who was gagged and bleeding profusely, still whimpering on the floor. Even in the dim light you could see the look of terror on his face and your heart skipped a beat as you turned your head to look at your father.

“Daddy, he-“ you shifted your weight from one foot to other, “Maybe we can just leave him like this. He’d be dead by the morning.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked before getting closer to you, flipping the knife in his hand and the man started yelling through the gag, but it was muffled. Your father extended his hand, motioning at the huge teddy bear you were hugging closer to your chest and you bit on your lip, then handed him that.

“You can get the teddy back after you answer 3 questions right, you know the rules,” he told you, “Alright, if I wanted him to die quickly, where would I stab?”

“Jugular.”

“Where’s the jugular?”

You pointed at the man’s neck, “There.”

“Good. What if I wanted him to suffer for hours with just one stab wound?”

You paused and scrunched up your nose, forcing your mind for the information before you looked up at him.

“In the stomach,” you said, “Stomach acid hurts.”

He thought for a second, then handed you the teddy back.

“Good job honey,” he said and walked to the man with the knife in his hand.

“I couldn’t do anything,” you pressed your lips together, “For hours and hours he tortured him and when we got back home, I went to bed and the next morning I wouldn’t stop shivering, I kept throwing up and my mom thought I had the flu so we ended up not coming to the cabin that weekend. I know how he—” you clicked your tongue, “I know how he pretends to be a normal guy. During those interviews, that documentary, even in those sessions with you he keeps pretending like he’s normal, but I know him. I know the real monster and I…”  you sniffled and cleared your throat, “Profiler or not, you have no idea what he’s capable of. He put me through actual hell, Spencer. No wonder I can’t remember half of this shit, I think I’d lose my mind if I did.”

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t stop him.”

He frowned, “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him even if you wanted to,” Spencer told you, “You were a child.”

“I could’ve told someone,” you murmured, looking at the lake, “I could’ve done something.”

“You were a child,” he repeated, “Children trust their parents, okay? You know it as well as I do that he’s a master at manipulation. Whatever he has done, it’s not your fault.”

“I doubt those bodies in the basement would agree with you,” you managed to say and let out a humorless chuckle, “Besides, I’m my father’s daughter, remember? You told me so yourself.”

The impact of your words would’ve been surprising if you weren’t so distracted by your own misery. He pulled back as if you had just slapped him, his hazel eyes searching your face and he swallowed thickly, opening and closing his mouth like he was at loss for words.

“I didn’t mean—” he paused, shaking his head “Y/N, that wasn’t the truth.”

You grabbed the cigarette out of your purse and lit it, dangling your legs back and forth over the pier.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged your shoulders, “You’re not the first person to think that, and weirdly enough, you’re not the first ex to think that either-“

“That’s not what I think,” he insisted, “Nothing about you even suggests that you’re anything like him, behavior or psychological wise. I just wanted to—“ he hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching, “Hurt you back.”

You tried to smile, still keeping your gaze on the lake as you exhaled the smoke.

“Congratulations professor, you’re pretty good at that.”

A silence fell upon you both as you twirled the cigarette between your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was so gentle that you turned your head to look at him, “I really am. I never should’ve hit below the belt, not like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N.”

“No really,” you insisted, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore, I’m just so—“ you closed your eyes for a moment “God, I’m just so tired Spencer. You have no idea how tired I am.”

“I know.”

“And it just doesn’t end,” you murmured and opened your eyes, “Right? I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months now, and everything is getting so out of my control.”

“It will end soon.”

“But we don’t know that,” you insisted as almost a hysterical laugh escaped from your lips, “Do you want to hear the worst part? I don’t think this feeling will ever go away. At this point, I don’t even remember how it feels like not to be afraid.”

He heaved a sigh, then looked over his shoulder when Luke approached you two.

“Sorry guys,” he said, shifting his weight, “But um- Reid, we need you in there.”

“Can’t someone else-“

“Don’t,” you shook your head as you stood up and dusted off your jeans, “Seriously. Besides, the sooner you catch this guy, the sooner…I don’t know, the sooner things go back to normal, whatever that means.”

“You can’t just drive home like this.”

“I’ll drive her,” Luke said, making you turn your head,

“Dude, aren’t you needed here too?”

“I’m going to go back to help out Rossi,” he said, “Not all of the team has to be here, I mean-“ he nodded at Spencer, “We’ve got our genius here, he’s got it covered. I can take the babysitting duty.”

“No pastries for you anymore.”

“I would like to rephrase my statement,” he said quickly, making you smile before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

“Y/N-“ Spencer started but you shot him a look.

“I’m fine,” you said, “Go do your Sherlock stuff, professor. Solve the case so that I can start planning weddings again instead of hanging around creepy cabins. I’m just gonna go home and get drunk, so you’ll probably get a voicemail or two from me, just saying.”

“Can’t wait,” Spencer smiled softly and you followed Luke to your car, then handed him the keys and got in the passenger seat. He started the car and you slipped a little in the seat, leaning your knees on the dash.

“How are you holding up?” Luke asked you and you heaved a sigh.

“I feel like I’m in a horror movie to be honest with you,” you muttered, “Who the fuck writes on a wall with blood, I mean like who are you, Michael Myers?”

“I didn’t mean the case,” he stole a look at you and you raised your brows.

“Ah, that,” you said, “Well, I don’t have a bff that sets me up with people in night clubs, so there’s that.”

He hissed in a breath, “Garcia told you.”

“Mm hm,” you looked out of the window, “No hard feelings, don’t worry. I dated lots of frat boys back when I was in college, so I’m very familiar with the bro code.”

“You dated frat boys?” he made a face and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah I started from the bottom and worked my way up to the genius back there.”

He chuckled, “I take it you still haven’t told him you threatened a serial killer because he happened to threaten him?”

“I would’ve done the same for anyone.”

“Bullshit.”

Your jaw dropped, “I let you drive my car and this is the thanks I get, Alvez?”

“Okay trust fund baby, I’m driving you home, you’re not doing me a favor.”

You let out a small laugh, “Eh, I’m not that bad.”

“Your sister threatened a whole police department using lawyers.”

“They had it coming,” you said and he cleared his throat.

“If it makes you feel any better, it was an actual fiasco.”

Your head shot up and you turned to him, “Hm?”

“That whole thing with Reid. He’s not over you.”

“He will be,” you murmured, “Eventually.”

“Do you want to hear why it was a fiasco?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an exaggeration-“

“He spent the whole night talking about you,” he cut you off and your jaw dropped, “Yeah. More like, she asked him about his job and he mentioned the case, then talked about you and how you couldn’t be the killer for hours. For a second, I thought he’d go up to the DJ booth and start broadcasting from there.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through you, but you nibbled on your lip, trying to ignore it.

“I really hurt him Luke.”

He stole a look at you from the corner of his eye.

“I know,” he said, “That’s pretty clear. I don’t know which one is worse, that you hurt him or that it doesn’t seem to change anything on his part.”

You could feel the burning in your eyes but you slipped a little in your seat and kept your eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I don’t know which one is worse either.”

                                                   ***

The worst thing about nightmares?

There was no escape from them, and no amount of booze could make them go away.

You woke up to your own scream and leaped out of the bed so fast that you got caught in your sheets and fell on your face, your ears ringing. You could feel the bile burning your throat, so you covered your mouth and rushed to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet, barely aware of the sobs rocking your body. You wiped at your mouth and stood up on shaky legs, then brushed your teeth, still breathing hard.

You were there again, in that graveyard with your father, but this time you couldn’t brush it off as just a nightmare.

It was way too detailed, way too familiar to be a nightmare.

You wiped at your forehead and washed your face with ice cold water, desperate for some sort of a relief and leaned over the sink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Fuck this shit,” you rasped out to yourself before turning the tap off and raised your glances to look in the mirror.

Well.

You looked exactly like how you felt.

You still didn’t trust your legs but still managed to leave the bathroom, Making your way to your bedroom was more than enough to give you goosebumps, but you snatched your phone off the bedside table. You almost dropped it because of how badly you were trembling with fear, but managed to hold it tighter, found his name in the contacts and took the phone to your ear.

He answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Spencer, hi,” you said, still taking deep breaths, “I um… I had this- this nightmare and I- I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?”

He hesitated for a moment, “Are you okay? Why are you breathing so fast?”

“Not a panic attack,” you wiped at your nose, “Not yet anyway.”

“Okay, I’m still coming over-“

“No!” you cut him off, then licked your lips, “No I can’t…. I can’t stay here right now, I need to get out of here. Can we please meet somewhere or-or-“

“How about my place?” he asked and you heard the unmistakable clinking of keys, “You can’t drive like that, I’ll come and pick you up, wait there-“

“No I’ll just take a taxi.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll take a taxi, just send me the location,” you told him and hung up, quickly got dressed, got into your coat, then went downstairs when your taxi arrived. You still felt like you could throw up again, but the cool air coming from the open car window helped as the driver started the car after you gave him the location.

There was a beauty in the city at night, especially in chilly nights like these. The small raindrops falling down your face offered some kind of a small comfort while you tried your hardest to ignore the images flashing through your mind, taking a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs. You leaned your head to the open window, closing your eyes and letting the noise of the city drag you out of your own mind.

By the time the taxi pulled over, you were almost lost in your thoughts and only when the driver let you know that you were there you opened your eyes. You paid him, and looked up at the building before making your way inside.

It was almost strange how you hadn’t seen his apartment when you two were dating, but now here you were.

After the break up. At three in the morning.

You wiped at your nose and fixed your hair before you knocked on the door and tried to control your breathing, but that felt way too difficult. As soon as he opened the door, everything you had planned to tell him in your head disappeared and you looked up at him in complete silence for a couple of seconds, you had almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t in his work clothes. A warmth filled you, the urge to rush into his arms taking over you but you managed to fight the urge and stepped into the apartment, desperately searching for the right words.

“I had that nightmare, again.” You turned to him as soon as you entered the living room, stumbling over your words, “That graveyard nightmare, but Spencer I think it wasn’t just a dream, I think you were right and it was a memory and there was someone else but I can’t see a face and—“

“Y/N.”

“And I think we were there because of me because it all just connected, we were at that graveyard and he was actually digging a grave and I can remember the face of the victim but not—“

“Sweetheart, breathe.” he approached you in three long steps and his warm hands cupped your cheek so that he could look at you better, “I’m here, I’m listening, okay? Just breathe and tell me. Slowly.”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him.

“I had that nightmare again,” you managed to say, “But I think that’s a memory.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “How?”

“Because at the graveyard, dad told me something,” you said, “He was- he was digging a grave, and he said, Remember, you’re not supposed to make them bleed if you can’t kill them. And I remembered when that happened, back at the cabin, during the training, I… I untied one of the victims and pretended like he got out of them somehow.”

His hand slipped a little so that he could brush his fingers over your neck, almost soothing you.

“It didn’t work,” you shook your head, “As soon as he got out of the cabin, dad hunted him down and dragged him back into the cabin, he had lost way too much blood to make a run for it. Spencer, that’s a memory, not just a nightmare.”

“There was another person with you? At the graveyard?”

“He took the victim to the graveyard later on, but yes. There was someone, I just…I can’t remember who,” you heaved a shaky breath, “You need to tell the team-“

“We’re already checking the graveyards within the driving distance to the cabin, I told them today.”

You blinked a couple of times, “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he said and his eyes searched your face, “You’re shaking.”

You tried to smile and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, running your thumb over his warm skin, “It’s cold out there.”

You were lying, he knew you were lying and you knew that he knew, but neither of you commented on that. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled you closer to him, letting you bury your face into his chest as he held you tight and you inhaled his scent, closing your eyes.

He was right earlier. This was an addiction.

“Were you sleeping?” you muttered into his chest before you pulled back to look up at him. He scoffed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I was working on the case.”

“You really need to sleep.”

“It’s ironic to hear that from you,” he pointed out and that made a smile warm your face.

“Ah but I did sleep,” you said, “I just woke up because of the nightmares. It still counts as sleep.”

“I doubt that,” he said and you turned your head before you started walking around the room.

Spencer’s apartment was more or less what you imagined, to be honest. Contrary to yours, it was darker and obviously older. The wooden desk was covered in papers and books, there was a library by the corner of the room almost stacked to the brim, and overall it reminded you so much of him that just being in his apartment made you feel-

Safer. Better. Calmer.

“Lovely place,” you commented as you approached the library to drag your fingertips over the cracked and old spines of the books and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift his weight.

“Yeah it’s not- it’s not like yours but I like it.”

“Not like mine?” you looked over your shoulder and he cleared his throat.

“Mm hm.”

“I like it better than mine,” you said and he frowned,

“Why?”

“It looks like someone is actually living here,” you motioned around and he tilted his head.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It is,” you said, “I mean I can see….you in here. I can’t see any part of me in my apartment.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “My mom has this person who designs her houses, she designed my apartment too. It’s pretty but it’s just not me I guess. It’s kind of sad when you think about it.”

He hummed, his eyes watching your every move and you pulled a book from the shelf, holding it up so that he could see the title.

“You don’t strike me as a Petrarch guy,” you tilted your head, “Are you?”

He raised his brows and stole a look at the book in your hand.

“I do not pray, since there is no purpose, that my heart should ever burn less fiercely, but only that she might share part of the fire.” he recited and your jaw dropped before you pouted.

“I hate bluffing with you,” you commented, making him chuckle and you stifled a yawn while turning the book in your hands.

“You can’t work for the whole night if you have a guest.” you gestured at the wooden table and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I won’t if my guest promises she’ll try to sleep.”

“I don’t like this deal.”

“That’s the deal you’re getting,” he said and you clicked your tongue, then walked to the center of the room and sat down on the floor before you lied down.

“I have a bed, you know.”

“I don’t want to get comfortable and fall asleep yet. I want to enjoy this more.”

“Enjoy what? Lying on the floor?”

You shook your head and kept your gaze on the ceiling, the dim light of the apartment and lights from the outside creating shadows there.

“I don’t have that…mind numbing fear right now,” you managed to say “I want to make it last. It’ll come back when I wake up tomorrow, trust me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, then heaved a sigh and sat down on the floor as well, leaning his back to the leather armchair. You tossed him the book and he caught it mid-air, shooting you a quizzical look.

“Read me your favorite,” you said and he smiled slightly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’ll help me get out of my head, and it might help you….ignore the fact that your night club date was terrible, apparently.”

He raised his brows, “Luke told you?”

You tried to stop your smirk, but it was impossible,

“Yeah he did,” you said and bit inside your cheek for a moment, “Thank you though.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me.”

His gaze on you was gentle, “I wish you would believe in yourself too,” he told you, “You’re not what he tried to turn you into.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your lip.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we should move on?”

He took a deep breath, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “We probably should. But do I think we can move on? I don’t think so.”

You nodded slowly, that burning in your eyes getting even worse as he turned the pages until he found what he was looking for, then cleared his throat and started reading.

“I have offered you my heart a thousand times

O my sweet warrior, only to make peace

with your lovely eyes: but it does not please you

with your noble mind, to stoop so low.”

You smiled to yourself, painfully aware of why he picked that one, then closed your eyes, his voice washing over you.

“And if some other lady has hope of it,

she lives in powerless, deceiving hope:

and it can never be what it was to me,

since I too disdain what does not please you.”

Chapter 22

[elles-writing]

Dragon Sickness

Thorin x reader

Based off on 'Imagine Thorin becoming a dragon after getting gold sickness'

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one, though I'd be able to make it a whole series with how many ideas I got, but here it is as a one shot. You guessed the character, @iwenttomordor !!

I'll probably translate this fic to Czech, if I will be in a mood for it.

Taglist: @guardianofrivendell @anjhope1

Breathe in, breathe out.

All Thorin could see, was darkness. He had no idea where he was, or what happened. The only thing he knew, was that if he was still able to do something, anything, it would mean he was still fully by his senses.

He felt deep growl coming out of the back of his throat. He opened his eyes, but then blinked. There was brightness everywhere, and he had to groan again. Did Fili and Kili forgot to blow the candles, played another stupid prank on him, and he passed out? Or did he fell asleep, while telling them a bedtime story?

Thorin opened his eyes again, when he seen endless piles of gold, and that it was not cadle light, but the shine of gold inside Erebor, and that Fili and Kili were not dwarflings anymore, but adults. They went on the quest with him and joined the Company, and...

Thorin blinked. Why was he alone?

"Fili, Kili!"

He expected to hear echo of his voice, but instead, he heard only deep growl and royar. He quickly looked around, up and down.

Was Smaug still there?

Thorin carefully looked around, but he couldn't see anything, that would remind of the dragon, who entered the Mountain over sixty years ago.

He decided to carefully look around, to see if his nephews and the rest of the Company was alright, without waking up the dragon, if he was still there.

Thorin made a step, when he noticed a reflection, in a huge mirror, in thick gold frame.

It was a dragon, with dark brown, almost deep black body and wings, long and pointy tail, and icy blue eyes. The light created shadows and pools of light, dancing across the texture of the dragon's body, making it seem rough and yet somehow highly gentle, even delicate, as the fire of candles flickered with the beast's every move.

Thorin looked away, and deep royar shook the walls of Erebor.

I need to find my nephews, he thought. Panic started settling in him, as he realized Kili was mortally wounded, and Fili stayed with him.

I belong with my brother.

He also remembered you. You did got wounded, too - you broke your arm, during the escape from Mirkwood. As a human, your body was much more fragile.

Thorin felt like he was losing his mind. He didn't cared for the gold, or the Mountain, anymore.

And with another wall-shaking royar, the dark coloured, blue-eyed dragon flew up, and left the inner part of Lonely Mountain.

Bilbo looked over at Balin.

"Where-where did that dragon came from? I'm sure there was only-only Smaug before," he said in high-pitched voice, he would be embarrassed about on any other occasion. Balin sighed and looked to the direction, of where did the dragon disappeared.

"I do not know, Bilbo. Now we need to find Thorin, and make a plan what to do. We didn't counted there would be two dragons, instead of one."

As Bilbo was trying to process what happened (the hobbit seen a lot of things on the journey, but this was really something he did not count on), Thorin looked over the Laketown. He noticed the people escaping the burning ruines of their houses. Smell of burned wood, skin, hair, mixed with smell of water and something he recognized as human, dwarf, and elves, got into his nose. He felt the soft breeze, and for a second, he thought dragons perhaps aren't that bad. It was calm up there.

Thorin looked over the town, and noticed a small boat. When he realized there was the rest of the members of the Company (and Bard's children), he let out a relieved breath. He felt like a rock fell off of his heart.

As he wanted to yell out "You are alive!", so they would hear him, a powerful royar escaped him.

You looked up, as Fili nudged you.

"What is it, Fi?"

"There is another...dragon," Fili said. You frowned.

"No way, Fili, that's-" you looked up as Kili pointed towards the sky. At the same moment, a powerful royar shook your whole body. You shivered.

"W-what the-" You whispered, and clutched your injured arm.

"It's flying down!" Bofur yelled out.

"We need to get away-" Someone yelled, but it was far too late.

The dragon flew down, and it seemed like it was observing you. It let out occasional growls, along with watching you by it's huge blue eyes.

He looks like Thorin, you thought. There was the panic, that others gave you, but deep down, you were not afraid.

The creature tilted it's huge head, and it was as if it's eyes saddened. You got up and walked to the front of the boat, so you'd be closer to it. Bofur turned to you.

"I don't think that's a wise idea, lass-" The dragon let out a huff, and you softly pushed Bofur behind you.

"What are you doing here? Where did you came from?" You carefully said. The dragon growled out something, but then turned to Lonely Mountain. You guessed it probably was the direction, where did it came from.

"Are you going to...hurt us?" You whispered. The dragon shook it's head, firmly.

"Alright, um...why are you here?" The dragon's eyes gave you a little stern, but mostly relieved and flustrated look, and then they shifted to Fili and Kili.

"Thorin would be worried about them too," you though aloud, before you could stop it. The dragon huffed, and let out a groan, but his eyes seemed to light up.

"Thorin?" The dragon nodded his head. You looked back, to see if it was truth. There was no way this would be happening.

Kili was pale, as well as Fili. Tilda and Sigrid were eyeing the dragon - Thorin, and the rest of the Company seemed like they were about to faint.

Well, not really. They seemed to be just paler than usual. A lot paler.

"Thorin, you are-you are a dragon...but how?" You stared at him. He looked around, until he pointed towards simple golden necklace he gave you as a courting gift.

"Gold...D-do you mean the...the sickness?" You looked up.

Thorin simply nodded.

When you got safely to Erebor, you noticed the rest of the Company rushing towards you.

"Thank Mahal, you are alive!" Someone said.

"Did you see the dragon?" You nodded.

"Well, yeah. He's not dangerous." You replied in firm voice.

"Lassie, every dragon is dangerous," Balin said, as Oin looked over your injury again.

"This one is not, because...well, the 'dragon sickness'," you quoted,

"The dragon sickness is not really about obsession over gold. It transforms that person into a dragon, who is obsessed with gold," you said, as you looked over your shoulder. You wasn't sure where exactly Thorin was, at the moment.

"I understand, but why would you say that, lassie? We still haven't found Thorin yet," Dwalin looked at you. Before you could answer, small epcheeew made an echo in the hall, and a piece of the wall was covered with frost. You giggled.

"How did you do that?" Thorin dig his eyes into you, as if saying 'Don't ask, please,', and jumped up on your shoulder.

"Well, he found us." You muttered. Everyone stared at the dragon-Thorin in silence for a while.

As the evening approached and most of the Company went to sleep, Thorin, in his regular size, you guessed, was carefully walking on the piles of gold, and you just sat there. You sat there, because you could not sleep, and so that Thorin would not be lonely.

You watched Thorin, as he was walking around the room, in the endless river of gold.

"You know, maybe it's better you still have clear mind, Thorin," you said. Thorin turned to you and set his gaze on you, as if asked you to continue. And so, you did.

"I won't lie, I do not know how to break this...spell, or whatever it is," you said, and Thorin looked away, huffing.

"But at least you are alive, and have clear mind," He looked back at you, and his eyes seemed to soften a little. You got up.

"Well, look, if you'd like to...I got an idea," you offered. Thorin curiously looked at you.

"We could go out, neither of us can sleep anyways," Y/N said, and Thorin looked around.

"Well, you can change into the...more petite form," you said. Thorin huffed out.

I'm not a bird or a cat.

Y/N blinked. Did she just heard Thorin's voice in her head?

It was probably nothing.

"Let's get outside."

As they seated outside, on the top of the Mountain, her eyes were set on the starry sky.

Thorin's eyes slid over the starry sky, then down at Y/N. The breeze brushed her hair in a gentle, delicate motion.

He was glad he has Y/N as his One.

He suddenly felt the urge to fly, which he tried to deny, but then he flew up, and took Y/N with him.

You couldn't even scream at first, but then you felt as if you were falling down - when all of sudden, you fell on something firm, but warm.

You opened your eyes, slowly at first, but then you realized what happened.

Slowly, you looked over the edge of Thorin's dragon body, and your eyes widened.

You flew high, and though you couldn't see a lot, due to the darkness, you recognized some lights. But the real beauty started, when you looked up.

The stars seemed to be close, as if you would just reach up your arm, you would be able to touch them.

The clouds felt soft, but cold and wet. You closed your eyes, and let that feeling to go through your whole body, as Thorin flew through one of the clouds.

When you opened your eyes, you realized the clouds moved away, and so the moon was illuminating the landscape underneath you. You looked down, and watched the scenery in awe.

You had no idea how much time has passed, but honestly, you didn't cared. You felt safe with Thorin, even if he was locked up in the body of dragon.

When the sun started raising, Thorin flew down to the top of the Mountain again. You could barely keep your eyes open.

That was amazing, you thought. You felt like you heard Thorin's soft chuckle in your head.

Indeed, Amrâlime.

Y/N didn't had much time to think about it, before she fell asleep with the sounds of birds' song, lullying her and sending her to the land of dreams.

When she woken up, she realized one thing: warmth. Y/N looked around, and realized that the warmth was coming from Thorin's body, who was protectively lying around her, inside of some room. He seemed to be soundly asleep.

As she moved, a huff escaped Thorin, and Y/N quickly looked back, to see what happened.

You woke me, she heard in her head.

Sorry, I just need to go to-

Before you could finish your thought, he let you go. You felt the shivers running down your body. Well, it's a mountain. It's not like it would be exactly warm here.

When you came back, you sat down, across Thorin, and he set his eyes on you. You started thinking about what was happening.

You can hear me, you thought, and he nodded.

So I, he replied.

But neither of us could do that before, right? You furrowed your brows, and Thorin shook his head.

Is this is permanent? You thought quicker than you could stop it. Thorin's gaze coldened and hardened, and you could feel the confusion, disgust, hurt and sadness.

I'm sorry Thorin, I-

Keep your words.

No, Thorin, listen to me, I'm sorry, it's just- You quickly jumped up, but he was on his way out.

Who from dwarves would want their king to be a dragon? He snapped. At this point, you runned behind him, trying to stop him from flying away.

"THORIN NO, COME BACK-" you yelled out, but it was far too late. Thorin was quickly disappearing on the horizone, and you cried out.

The dragons in Middle-Earth never had a good reputation. You knew someone would try to hurt him, or kill him, eventually.

You sank down on your knees, and started sobbing.

You felt his pain as your own, and he felt yours.

Who from the dwarves would want their king to be a dragon? Thorin thought, as he flew up on the sky. He knew he was right. He felt shame. He was a Durin. But now, he was a dragon, one of the creatures he hated.

You are not the dragon, Thorin. You are good. You are still Thorin we all know.

He let out a royar. He was in this body of a dragon, and he hated every second of it, and he hated himself.

You looked over the tent, and sipped on your tea. It felt wrong and weird, but you didn't exactly complained either.

Thranduil and Bard discussed something, and you wished Thorin would be there with you.

They aren't that bad, Thorin. Nothing.

You told me that Erebor is going to be pulsing with life, again. I know you hate the body you are locked in right now, but we will find a way to turn you into dwarf form again, Thorin. Please, return here.

No answer. Just silence.

You sighed. You felt Thorin was alive - you just knew, so you were not so worried, but still. Bilbo placed his hand on your shoulder.

"He will come back, I'm sure of it. You know Thorin," he muttered, and you nodded. Thorin was really stubborn, even for a dwarf, and once he thought of something, there was almost no chance in convincing him otherwise.

The rest of Company woke up as they heard your screaming. They found you, and took inside of the Mountain, to give you blankets and tea. Then Bilbo came, that Gandalf was there, to warn you about another dragon. You talked for a while, and eventually, you told him what happened to Thorin, and you needed a medication, but he flew away, and since then, he didn't came back.

Bard and Thranduil weren't really fond of Thorin, but because it was you, who was Thorin's One (and Thorin was the rightful king of Erebor, though Thranduil, especially, didn't liked that idea much), they decided to help to you find a way to heal Thorin's sickness.

"I think Smaug got mad, and the sickness consumed him entirely. Thorin actually had clear mind, it's just...his body changed," you muttered. Even Radagast was there.

"Well, maybe...maybe it's not really a sickness," someone piped up. You looked around.

Who said that? You thought.

"Maybe-maybe it's just a spell!" Radagast said and looked excitely around.

"You have a bond between you two," Radagast told you, and you nodded.

"Are you suggesting, that the spell could be broken by...something?" Bilbo looked around for someone to help him finish up his question.

"Well, Thorin is not answering me, but he is alive, somewhere. I think he maybe...he thinks the dwarves wouldn't accept their king, even if he is in the body of a dragon," you said.

"Orcs! Orcs are everywhere!" Elvish soldier runned inside the tent.

"How many?" Thranduil's gaze hardened.

"A lot of them, I've never seen more in my whole life," The soldier answered.

"Azog," you whispered. You realized what that could mean - Azog came here for Thorin.

"We all need to fight together, there is no point nor time for arguing," Gandalf said, and you got up.

"No, you will stay here, lassie. If he finds out Thorin is not there, you will be right next," Bard said. You frowned.

"I won't run from a fight." You gazed at him, but he was out already, along with most of others, to prepare for the battle.

I won't risk anyone I love to be killed, you thought, and went to find some armour.

Thorin felt all those emotions going on - worry, fear, anger, loyalty, and more worry. Something in him was pushing him, to come back, to go back to you. He felt the danger, and that convinced him, without any other thoughts, he needs to protect you, and his kin.

Durin's folk does not flee from fight.

When he heard the sounds of a battle, he tried to find you. He couldn't hear your thoughts anymore - nor fell the feelings you felt. Only soft waves of emotions.

Is this the end of you, or him, when he could not hear your thoughts anymore?

He hoped not.

It didn't took long, when something inside him made him to look into one place. He noticed Azog, and someone he realized was you, though he had no idea how did he knew that.

He flew lower, and lower, until the only thing he heard was the blood in his ears, the royar he let out, and the royar of his biggest enemy.

Thorin fell to the ground on all fours. It felt as if the battle stopped. As if the time stopped, whe whole world paused. He looked up at you, kneeling down and covering your head.

You looked up, as you heard the royar. Thorin! You thought. You felt relief he was okay, and alive.

"Don't shoot!" You heard Thranduil to yell out to his soldiers when they spot Thorin, and you felt thankful to the Elven King.

Azog thought you were Thorin, until the helmet fell down, and disgusting smirk made it's way over his face. You losed strength, you were tired, and wounded - he managed to make you some cuts, over your shoulders and cheek, and you guessed one your arm was not fully okay. He prepared to kill you, but the royar was coming closer, along with the huge shadow. You covered your head and ears and fell on your knees, to protect your body.

The royar Azog let out shook you, but when you heard the silence after, you felt relieved.

The huff close to you made you feel lot safer. You looked up, and you knew your face light up.

"Thorin," you whispered and cried out. You stood up and hugged him.

"Don't go away like this, ever," you whispered, as tears rolled down your cheeks. Then, you felt some movement, but the warmth was still the same, and you thought Thorin was just moving around.

"I won't ever leave your side again, I promise, my One," His smooth voice made way to your ear, and then, you felt his lips pressed against yours. You ran your hands across his back, and felt the tunic he had on, just as he changed into the dragon form.

He rested one of his palms on your cheek, and when you parted, he rested his forehead against yours, while gazing deeply into your eyes by his deep blue orbs.

"Thank you for coming back," you whispered.

"I would never let anyone hurt you," he muttered, and pulled you back for another kiss, as the soft snowflakes danced in your hair, with the breeze.

[imalwaystiredzzz]

C5: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

#genshin x reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships

< Sisyphus happy chapters >

Once, from a time long before records and memories were written on ink and paper, Morax walked upon vast lands rich in history, watered by tears of tragedy and love lost. He turns to an old woman who stood before her destroyed village, eyes downcast and hollow on bodies drowned by the war of an unrelenting sea and the mountain that does not bow. 

Morax did not understand, maybe once when he had held a goddess’ body to his own, but to him that was one thing and this is another. This is love of a mortal that does not even know who the child that cried next door nor the man that walked past their door, this is to love a complete stranger and the love that Guizhong once had when she was still by his side.

“What must I do to learn the love of mortals?” He asks, voice devoid of emotion; genuine curiosity and the hope to understand beneath.  

The old woman smiled, warm and full of wisdom as if her short years were thousands compared to the god. “To love mortals, one must sacrifice eternity and learn of the passing time. Of death and partings. The gods have forgotten that they may live long but even you have an end, it is the same thing that pains us yet we find delight in.”

He didn’t understand then, those words ring true and wise as Cloud Retainer’s advice to his ears on leading the people that he had now to care for. Even so, he still finds himself wondering, “What would Guizhong have done?”

In his heart, he knows that she would’ve understood and took a moment to explain; unlike the way time leaves nothing but confusion in its wake, only pondering and no straight answers?

Even as hundreds of years pass, when all that remains of that old woman is nothing but ashes on the soil and the land had been turned to marsh, the people traveling and settling in a mountain, and the war marching on to its bloody conclusion; Morax found that answer to be much like the dumbbell that he may never come to solve. 

But once more, reminiscent of his unexamined love with the goddess had bloomed too late, fate had played him right into its hands. 

Because the answer had come in the form of you- still a child, a bud in the nursery of glaze lilies under the morning sun. You and your small hands that gripped the end of his robes, with teary eyes that looked at the dying people and held these strangers hand in their last breath with as much intensity for a small comfort to let them know they did not die alone.

“Will the war end soon?” Your small voice asked him, even Mountain Shaper had not the stomach to look at a child’s plea for peace and spout lies.

“I am trying to end it, as fast as I can.” 

“Then this is for you.” You reached into your pocket and gave him a dried glazed lily contained in glass, “thank you for trying though we cannot give much back.” You bow, as courtesy knowing that you had just talked to the very god that protected the lands you step on and ran back to the shack that housed the sick and injured, your parents much too busy to notice you had snuck out. 

Blissfully unaware that the god of geo, gripping the gift in between his hands, amber eyes following your form and telling himself that humans have much to learn and yet they surprise him nonetheless, just like as his love used to tell him.

But even answers are confusing, much like a child who asks why is 1+1=2 and the process of it, he didn’t understand till he saw you once more. Not yet a lady but not quite the child that you used to be. Now you are the girl who provides healing, growing up to be a herbalist like your mother and no longer simply holding a basket of them for your father. Carefully, with your mortal hands you comfort the injured beyond salvation as the calamities of gods that hold much power rages on. 

Surrounded by dying men of the war, miasma, curses and death lurking in the air, in his eyes you remained untouched. Unblemished, as if the air in your little bubble had been purified by innocence and unconditional love for the crowd of strangers, neither pitying them for death nor numb to their tragedy. Then for a second he thought he saw her - the glaze lilies and the goddess that he loved so much and he begins to wonder if she’s come back to him through you.

“I should thank you for treating the wounded.” He tells the man before him, the bags of herbs laying behind his form and a sigil in hand, “use this in times of need, when the people are crying and I am away, surely the adeptis are quick to answer and would not turn you away.” 

“My lord, Rex Lapis, there is no need to thank us. Knowing that you protect the people is enough, we are just a family of healers who help the ones in need.” Your father was a grateful man, and he can see where you get your eyes, especially your kind heart who reaches out to those in need, not because he seeks power or his blessings.

“Even so, Liyue will remember your kindness but none more so than I, Rex Lapis.” 

He does not know if you remember him nor what you did, only that when he dons a mortal face to take a walk in the calms before the storm, he finds himself wandering to your garden, mostly on cold nights where you would just sing to the lilies and watch them, with unfading enchantment, bloom. 

In a distant memory of an old lover, he hears the same voice but now there stood you. Now a lady, barely a woman with your innocence and mischief.

And he knows that this is wrong, mortals are fleeting as the dust, that he can never grasp with his two hands. Wherever his heart is on anything, other than Liyue, it only ends in tragedy. And oh, how ironic of it all that if you really were his goddess that had found her way back to him, why this form? Why a mortal who is a flower that will wither compared to a mountain that does not crumble?

“It’s a beautiful song, pardon me for interrupting but may I know where you have learned it?”

“Only if you tell me what the god of earth is doing in a place like this, barely even concealed?” Playful, you smile at him playfully as if you knew all the time that he had spent staring from afar and he was not an immortal that could smite the very life out of those pretty eyes.

“The breeze carried your voice and I wondered where you had learned to entice it to your will.” He couldn’t really put a finger when it began, when your singing had lured him like a siren to the depth of the sea.

“You befriend the wind, unlike the earth, you do not command rather ask of it like a companion,” was your simple answer and he smiles like he has found something long lost. You drown him in your presence, but he is not breathless; rather he sighs filled with curiosity like a child who has more to learn from the world that he had been in for thousands of years. 

You who had rekindled a reason for his actions, much like Guizhong. This love does not ruffle his heart out of his rib cage, the dust settles and it is as calm as you talking about herbs in this small patch of garden late at night and as calm as the things settle falling into place in his beloved city by the gentle waves of the sea.

“What happened to them after?” You ask your husband, the snow falls outside and you are oh so exhausted to the bone as if the cold had taken all your warmth. He smiles and brushes your cheeks that lost their flush and your skin cold as a corpse, his arms glows gold in the intricate cracks, and you know that this is a bedtime story - though not quite for the night but for the long winter.  

The memory scratches at the back of your mind to be remembered, but a part of you warns that you wouldn’t like how it ends. 

“According to the books, the lord of geo took his love to the heavens.” He finishes with a chuckle of the irony in it all, a kiss to your temple as your eyes drop, heavy and slumber dragging you to its clutches.

Then finally, Zhongli smiles to bid you goodnight.

He watches you sleep soundly. Sleep if humans can even call it that with the lack of breathing, as still as a corpse that had died peacefully in bed while he is left to wonder of a future that had things ended the way his winter story did.

War ensures losts. Victories demand sacrifices. And the price to pay was always his love.

Zhongli would like to believe that had you died of a natural cause: sickness, accident or of old age where he would have held your aging body, he could’ve had the strength to let you pass on.

Rex Lapis would have had your funeral handled by the esteemed WangSheng, and took your passing as another promise to meet on the other side.

But Morax knows, he could never really.

Never let you go, even after thousands of years and all that you know had returned to the soil. Even when the truths of history had been forgotten by the people and you are nothing but a distant whisper to this land, a footnote to his folklore.

Not even now, when every winter is a reminder of the way he held your cold body against his chest, “I worry about you.” You told him with a supposed to be parting smile, how pitiful must he be for a dying mortal that had not even lived half their life to worry about him. 

“Why are you saying goodbye, my love? You aren’t supposed to say goodbye, not yet. It’s much too early,” He tells you with a broken laugh, the war is over like you had asked of him the first time. He is an archcon, the land is his to rule and care, and you are supposed to live many many peaceful years with him, but here you are the embers of war digs its claws in your frail body and had robbed you of life.

 Why does the war take and take and take and he who fights only lose things that he keeps to heart? 

He doesn’t relent, even if it means breaking the laws of nature itself.

Even when you wake in spring, and you look at him with those empty eyes and ask who he is. At Least you’re here, still there somewhere and it might take thousands of years and more, when the mountain has crumbled against time, one day he believes that you will wake again with love in your lips and warmth in your hands.

[bookofgale]

"while i can agree the pursuit of knowledge of knowledge's sake is a worthwhile goal, i cannot see mystra so willingly allowing you such access to the weave if you were touching something so forbidden.. unless you've ordained to keep it from her." the evoker raises his brow, arms crossing in annoyed defiance, despise knowing how eager he is to follow along and consume every piece of knowledge in the necromancers library. "a necromancer hiding in the shadows from her mistress, most stereotypical." and a wizard devoted to mystra isn't, gale?

the moment of stubbornness was broken by the green tiefling who had snapped out of whatever thought they were stuck in, "let's go!" they say a little too loudly for the place they're in, laying hands on the evokers robe, fingers gripping, ready to pull and drag.

"afhiri, it would be wise of us to keep our voices down here," his voice is surprisingly gentle compared to what someone would normally hear from him. "we wouldn't want to drawn undue attention to ourselves, hm?" his hands find her own, encouraging them to ease their hold and remain calm.

"oh, right.. yeah." their brows scrunch up together for a moment before relaxing into a beaming smile. it wouldn't be surprising if someone thought they were performing head to toe at all times, but the truth is they're just comically expressive. they release gale, turning their back on the two wizards, awaiting a tell-tale heel click to know they're going to be followed.

gale lets out a pleasant sigh, shaking his head gently at them, almost lost in the moment until iraestra catches his eye, the softness of his face tightening again. composing himself, almost shaking himself out, he responds to the necromancer.

"i assure you," bravado at full force. "gale of waterdeep is not afraid of the shadows." he smirks. "please, lead the way." his head bows mockingly. and he speaks the truth, the only thing that has stopped him from consuming all forms of magic is mystra herself. without her watching over him, he would have greedily explored much of the magics already denied to him. and if mystra's gaze were missing anywhere, it would surely be here, a fact that gave him pause.

"I would be honored to invite another true scholar such as yourself to peruse my personal collection," she says neutrally. Her tone makes it difficult to discern whether the compliment is met or not. Honestly, the younger wizard amuses her. The tiefling may not have the good sense to distrust her, but this Gale of Waterdeep is clearly more cautious than his companion.

Consort? Lover? Iraestra is vaguely curious about the nature of their relationship, but it is no pressing concern to her. Afhiri will tell on themselves eventually, be it a slipped word or a gleeful declaration. They are alarmingly, stunningly honest. Iraestra is a little impressed that they have made it this far in life with all their limbs, tail included, intact.

Iraestra attempts not to laugh outright at his painfully probing question. Ah, subtly is not just lost on Afhiri, then. "If you ask if I would have squandered the opportunity beneath my nose to harness incredibly powerful magic, the answer is no. You are astute enough to realize that necromancy has its uses as an art; can the same not be said for all magic? Is the pursuit of knowledge for knowledge's sake not worthwhile?" She asks without any real care of the answer; his opinion of her only matters insofar as keeping her near Afhiri and the strange cube they share. Iraestra is endlessly curious about that, and not entirely too eager to lose the sense of self she only just recently gained again.

"If you come this way with me I may show you what I have found. Unless you are scared of what afraid of what I have found in the shadows?" Part taunt, part tease.

[plus-size-reader]

A Helping Hand

Spencer Reid x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1407 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Helping Spencer take care of Diana when the caretaker quits because you know that he can't do it on his own

——————————————————————————————————

You knew that Spencer couldn’t do this whole thing on his own.

His plan to take care of Diana on his own was a foolish one to begin with, not that you could blame him for wanting to. He cared about her and if no one else could take care of her, it was only natural he did.

However, nothing was that easy.

Diana had almost entirely lost control over her short term memory and with her sudden bouts of paranoia and anger due to the schizophrenia, it was almost impossible to keep her calm sometimes.

It didn't help that with as much hard work as Spencer had to do for the BAU, he couldn't be around for her all hours of the day. He was going to need someone to help him.

That was where you came in.

Diana had been struggling most recently with recalling people, even people she'd known her whole life, and that made being around strangers an impossibility.

When she hit him, that was when he called you.

You hadn't seen either of them for some time, as you and Spencer went your separate ways for work, but you were always ready to hear from him. At one point, he'd been the only thing in the world to you.

He was your best friend all your life, you'd dated all through out high school, and even been engaged at one point.

It just didn't work out.

You wanted different things and you knew what Spencer was capable of. He was brilliant and if he went to Virginia and started at Quantico, you knew how many people he could help.

There was no other place for him, so you agreed to just go your separate ways and it had kind of just been that way.

There wasn't a day that you didn't miss him, and you knew that you'd always love one another, you just couldn't make it work right now. The idea was that you could try again later, once you had both done what you wanted, but he needed you.

Right now, both he and Diana did.

"Hey, I got here as soon as I could" you allowed, slipping in slowly through the front door, your voice nothing more than a low whisper. On the off chance that Diana was sleeping, you didn't want to wake her.

You smiled, reaching out to give Spencer the bag you'd brought with you. It was a couple of his favorite donuts, strawberry frosted, and a cup of coffee you thought you'd pick up on your way.

It was unclear to you how often he'd been able to get out for anything good grocery-wise since moving her in and it was a bit past breakfast time. You just wanted to make sure he'd have what he needed.

After all, that was what you were here for.

This whole thing wasn't just about what Diana needed, it was also about what you could do to help him.

"It's okay, I appreciate it. You didn't have to go through the trouble of getting all this" he hummed, in traditional Spencer fashion. He had always been that way, looking out for everyone else, but not looking for help from anyone else.

It was just too bad.

If he didn't want help, he shouldn't have called you.

"I had to stop to get one for myself anyway" you grinned, holding up your own coffee as evidence before setting it down on the counter. When you didn't see her, you assumed Diana was sleeping.

However, that wasn't a problem right now. You and Spencer hadn't seen each other in a really long time and as long as Diana was just peacefully sleeping, it would be a good time to catch up.

You'd missed him, and frankly, he'd missed you too.

Spencer was rocking back and forth on his heels when you turned back to look at him, something he always did when he was thinking. It was strange, odd looking maybe, but to you, it was endearing.

It was the same way he'd acted as a kid.

Neither of you had too many other friends at that time, and he was much quieter then. You were the only person he even talked to during the day.

"Well, it was nice of you to think of me" he shrugged, staring at his feet instead of looking you in the eye. Eye contact had always made him sort of uncomfortable, but this had nothing to do with that.

He just missed you.

The fact was, you wanted to be with one another, but nothing ever seemed like the right time.

Though, maybe that was because the right time didn't exist. You thought that every time the two of you were together, and you weren't the only one.

"Of course, I wanted to help" you smiled, your voice ever so slightly raised above a normal level as you tried to get his attention. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted him to talk to you.

After all the time that had passed, there just didn't seem to be words to describe what he was feeling. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to you, he just wasn't sure what to say.

Finally though, he decided to just go for the obvious.

"I really missed you"

It hardly scratched the surface of what he wanted to say, but it seemed to do well enough. There was so much more that he wanted to say, but there was plenty of time for that.

You were staying here right now, at least for a little while, and that gave him some time to organize his thoughts. If nothing else, it was good to have you here again.

"I missed you too Spence, you know that, I always miss you" you smiled, a huge grin on your beautiful face. You always missed him, and had for as long as you could remember, but it wasn't until you were here that you realized just how much.

You never should have been away from one another, right now, it seemed so simple. It seemed easy, but it just wasn't.

"I think we should talk about-" Spencer started finally, building up the nerve to bring up what he'd been trying to put into words this whole time, just in time for Diana to get out of bed.

She looked good, this time, and immediately smiled when she saw you. Her nap seemed to have been just what the doctor ordered, but neither of you knew for how long.

"Y/N! What a nice surprise" she called, a cheery tone in her voice. She would have known you from anywhere, and you hadn't changed a bit since the last time she'd seen you.

You were just as beautiful.

"It's nice to see you Diana. How are you?" you asked, doing your very best to keep the mood gentle and happy for as long as you could. For however long she had in this good place, you didn't want to waste it.

Diana was important to you, and it really was nice to see her.

"I'm okay dear, I was wondering when you would be home" she hummed, acting as if nothing had changed since you'd been around last. In her mind though, it was possible that it hadn't.

In fact, it wasn't until Diana asked where your ring was that you understood that to be the case.

She thought you and Spencer were still engaged, by now, she may have even thought you were married.

"I must have left it when I got ready this morning, I'm sure it's around here somewhere" you shrugged. For the short time that she was herself, you didn't want to bother bringing her down over the truth, it was better to just let her believe what she wanted.

It was better to let her be happy for you both.

In her perfect world, you had gotten married like you'd planned and you lived here with him.

It was just easier for her that way, and really, it was easier for you too.

[arrowflier]

do you write AUs?

because i wish you'd write a fic with magic 👀 either with both or only one of them having magic ❤️

Oh, dear sweet anon. You'd never guess it from what I've been posting, but AUs are my bread and butter, and fantasy my genre of choice. I just don't do as much of it because I care more about getting it right, and it's so much harder to convey in short glimpses.

So thank you for this, and here goes nothing!  Might not be the type of magic you were thinking, but it’s where my brain ended up.

Milkovich Magic

When he's just a little boy, Mickey Milkovich is the chattiest kid on the street. He stands out front of their rundown house and waves at people passing by, tells them stories, wishes for them good things. His father hates it, but his mother thinks it's lovely. She sits next to Mickey in a broken lawn chair, taking turns smiling at her son and at the strangers and neighbors passing by, waving Terry away when he comes too close to interfering.

But she never says a word herself, unless it's to Mickey.

Until one day, when Mickey sees a family walking down the street, and waves frantically at two boys around his age, one with fuzzy brown curls, one with bright red locks. The bright boy turns toward him and smiles, and Mickey feels something shift inside himself.

"Momma," he calls back toward the house. "Did you see?"

"See what, Mikhailo?" she responds, voice oddly cautious in a way that Mickey has long since become accustomed to.

"That boy," he tells her, feeling light and happy. "He's going to be my friend."

The air shifts as the words leave his mouth, seeming to swirl around him. He shivers as it strokes against his skin, leaving a line of goosebumps in its wake, and takes a shaky breath, thinking of the boy's shy smile.

"Mikhailo, no!" his mother cries, stumbling from her seat to fall on her knees at his feet, clutching his arms with claw-like fingers. He snaps out of his thoughts and stares down at her, terrified, as the feeling leaves him.

His terror grows when his father slams open the front door and yells, "What did the boy do now?"

His mother's eyes are wide and scared on his face, but her voice is calm and firm when she answers.

"Mikhailo has done nothing," she states simply, and his skin begins to tingle again. "You noticed nothing," she adds, and Mickey watches as his father shakes his head and wanders back inside without so much as a backwards glance.  Then the air is still again.

"Come, Mikhailo," his mother says next, "that's enough for today." And he follows her up the broken steps and into their home, mind whirring, trying to make sense of what happened.

“Words have power, little one,” his mother whispers to him later that night, as they sip hot chocolate in the kitchen after Terry goes to bed. The air smells of milk and burned sugar and his mother’s perfume, and her voice wraps around him like a hug, pressing her words into his skin.

“We have to be careful,” she speaks quietly. Her hand is still warm with the heat from her mug when she brushes his hair from his face, lets her palm rest on his cheek. “When the things you say become the truth, you have to choose your words wisely.”

“Like when I say you’re pretty?” Mickey asks with childish innocence, and his mother laughs, a soft tinkling sound like windchimes in the rain.

“Not quite,” she tells him with a gentle smile. “It takes intent, too.”

“Intent,” he repeats dutifully, then asks, “what’s that?”

His mother’s voice drops even further, serious and firm. “It’s the desire to make change, Mikhailo,” she says, “and it’s dangerous. You never know what path that change might take.” She sounds sad, like she does whenever his father comes home, loud and stumbling when he shoves through the door in the middle of the night. Mickey doesn’t like it.

And he doesn’t understand, either. He’s too young. Too new to the world to see how change could be a bad thing. So he agrees, like a good son does, and doesn’t argue when his mother presses a kiss to his head and sends him off to sleep in a haze of lavender and chocolate.

A few months later, when he hears his father yelling from the next room, hears the crash as his mother hits the floor for the third time that week, he dares to speak aloud the words struggling to escape his heart, despite her warnings.

“Mama is safe,” he whispers to himself in the darkness of the room he shares with his baby sister, who’s curled up against his side, face still wet with the tears that sent her into sleep. “No one can hurt her anymore.”

He knows he got it right when he can feel the wish leave him, a heavy weight lifting from his chest as his desires take form. He can feel the air, heavy with intent, as it brushes over his skin, as it moves like a summer breeze through the open window above his head, bypassing the locked bedroom door. He’s suddenly more tired than he thinks he’s ever been when it’s gone, and he falls into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years, comforted by the knowledge that he had put change into the world.

The next morning, he wakes to his sister sobbing and pushing loose fists into his chest as she tells him that their mother is dead.

After that, he stops talking so much.

---

When Mickey is eight years old, he's the quietest boy in class. He gets a reputation as a troublemaker, refusing to answer questions or make friends, no matter the effort that others put in.

Eventually, they stop trying, and he's glad.

Until a new boy shows up, and almost ruins everything.

His name is Ian Gallagher, and the first thing Mickey notices as he walks into the room for the very first time, a worn backpack hanging from his skinny shoulder, is his hair.

It's bright red.

And Mickey remembers the day he learned what he was, the day he started down the path that killed his mother, the day that he declared to the world that the redheaded boy would be his and the world started to listen.

He wanted nothing to do with him.

So of course, Gallagher sat right behind him, and tapped on his shoulder, and asked him for a pencil. And try as he might, Mickey could not muster the intent to make him leave.

It probably wouldn't have mattered if he did, he thought. The damage had been done years ago.

But he does manage to speak. And he hears his own voice for the first time in ages outside the confines of the bedroom he still shares with Mandy. It's rough with disuse, lending an edge to his words that never used to be there.

"Ask me again, I'll stab you with it," he threatens, then stops, eyes blown wide and fearful by his own statement. But the rush of air never comes, nor that strange tingle, and all he can feel is the tickle of sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

He's so relieved he could cry.

"Are you ok?" the Gallagher boy asks, and Mickey tries to snarl, to make him back away.

"Shut up," he orders. And then he spins back around in his seat to hide his grin.

Because he can talk, after all, without causing terrible things. The trick, he knows now, is just not to mean it.

---

When Mickey is fifteen, he's loud and brash. He throws words around like they're meaningless, because to him, they are.

They have to be.

And it's working out fine, really. As long as he swallows down his feelings, keeps them locked up tight in his chest, it doesn't matter what words leave his lips.

Until, one day after school, he finally loses control.

And of course, it's because of Ian fucking Gallagher.

Because Ian keeps trying to be Mickey's friend, and Mickey knows it isn't real. He knows what he did. So when Ian joins his little league team in 4th grade, Mickey gets himself thrown out. And when Ian tries to partner with him for the 6th grade science fair, Mickey gets himself suspended instead. Every year is a new attempt, and every year, Mickey manages to shut it down.

He's ready to do it again on the first day of their sophomore year, when Ian calls his name outside the old brick school building.

"Hey, Mickey!" he tries, waving gangly arms to catch his attention. "Mickey, over here!"

Mickey studiously ignores him, like always, until he hears the smack of books hitting the ground.

"Whatcha callin' him for, eh?" comes a voice Mickey recognizes as one of his cousins. There's another rough sound, and a curse as Ian himself is pushed to the ground. Mickey's cousin laughs.

"What a pussy," he snickers. When Mickey turns around, his cousin waves him over with a wicked grin. "Ey, Mick, you know this guy?" he asks, not waiting for an answer before he nudges Ian in the side with a dirty boot. "He keeps callin' for ya, think he's got a crush or somethin'."

Ian's face is red, and his jaw is clenched, but he looks away when Mickey catches his eyes. He looks embarrassed, and maybe sad, and before Mickey knows what he's doing, he speaks from the place he always keeps under lock and key.

"You're gonna leave him alone," he rumbles, a breeze picking up behind him. "You're never gonna touch him again." A few leaves flutter at his feet as his intention builds. His cousin doesn't notice, but Ian does, and Mickey finds himself staring into emerald green eyes as he says, "You noticed nothing," just like his mother did all those years ago, and lets the words go.

His cousin blinks at him, suddenly lost, then down at Ian. "The fuck are you doing down there man?" he asks, and almost offers a hand before awkwardly pulling it back. "Eh, whatever," he mutters, and stumbles off to join the line for the bus.

"What was that?" Ian asks breathlessly, and Mickey shrugs, thumbing his nose. Inside, he's horrified by his slip, but all he says is, "nothing."

And scared or not of how it felt, that rush of cool air tingling against his skin as he spoke, he can't deny it felt good.

It feels even better when Ian smiles.

---

When Mickey is seventeen, he has a friend, and he thinks he might have to stop talking again.

Ian is around all the time, now. They sit together at school, and hang out at the Gallagher house on weekends. They go to movies, and baseball games, and tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

And deep down, Mickey knows what this is. He told the world that Ian would be his friend, and so he is. It's nothing more than that.

But when Ian starts talking about the guy he's seeing, starts blowing Mickey off to spend time with him instead, it still makes Mickey's heart hurt.

Somewhere along the line, between avoiding Ian and letting his life revolve around him, Mickey had started wanting more.

It's in those moments, sitting on the sofa with their thighs pressed together, the strawberry scent of Ian's shampoo lingering in the air around them as he waxes poetic about the restaurant his boyfriend took him to, when Mickey fights himself the most.

It would be so easy, he knows. So easy to open his mouth and let the words out. Ian, he could say, you love me. You want me. Leave him, Ian. Be with me instead.

He doesn't. He wouldn't. But he could, and knowing that kills him.

Instead, he starts pulling back. Cancels plans before Ian can. It hurts, but he does it, because Ian deserves to be free from the wish Mickey made when he was a child.

Ian notices, of course he does. He ignores it, mostly, until the night Mickey opens the door to find him standing there, sweaty and scowling.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks Mickey immediately. "Why are you shutting me out?"

Mickey swallows. "Don't know what you're talkin about," he lies, wishing desperately that it were true. He feels a zing of power go through him, but there's no escape for it; his words don't work on himself.

"Bullshit," Ian accuses, stepping over the threshold to bring them chest to chest. "Just tell me, Mick," he urges. "You know you can tell me anything."

"I can't," Mickey offers breathlessly. "I really can't, Ian."

It doesn't deter him; if anything, it makes him angrier. "What's gonna happen if you do, huh?" he challenges, shoving Mickey back until he hits the wall.

And Mickey can't take it anymore.

"I don't know!" he shouts, tearing at his hair. "I don't fucking know, Ian, ok? I've been trying not to say it for so long, I don't know what will happen if I do!"

It takes the wind out of Ian's sails; he visibly deflates. His eyes turn soft, instead of angry, and there's a quiver in his voice when he asks again. "Tell me what, Mickey?" he whispers.

Mickey won't say the words. Instead, he surges toward Ian and presses their mouths together in a rough, clumsy kiss.

It lasts only a moment before Ian pulls away, and Mickey tries not to die inside.  Forces himself not to fix it.  But a second later, there's a beaming grin on Ian's bruised lips, and he's saying, "is that all it was?" and leaning in again.

---

When Mickey is nineteen, he has a boyfriend, and he says what's in his heart.

They’re alone in the Gallagher house, a rare enough occurrence already, and they’re tangled together in Ian’s tiny single bed.  “Ian,” he whispers when they part for breath.  “Ian,” he moans as that mouth trails down his neck and behind his ear, pressing kisses in its wake.  “Ian,” he cries out as he clenches fingers in bright red hair, holding on for dear life as they rock together.

“Fuck, I love you Mick,” Ian murmurs against his heated skin, and Mickey stops still.

It takes a minute for Ian to catch on, another for him to pull back, eyes questioning and nervous.  “Is that okay?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Mickey licks his lips, and tries the words out himself, like a dare.  “You love me,” he whispers, eyes locked on Ian’s own.  

Nothing happens.

There’s no shift in the air around them, no new goosebumps beyond the ones Ian caused himself.  There’s no weight in Mickey’s chest trying to get out.

There’s just Ian.

Ian, with his copper hair shining in the light from the window.  Ian, surrounding him in the scent of strawberrie shampoo and sweat and cheap cologne from the corner store that he only wore when they were together.  Ian, who was watching hi, waiting, biting his red bottom lip and trying not to move.

Mickey laughs, and pulls him closer, kissing him again, feeling Ian smile with relief against his lips.  “You fucking love me,” he repeats, just because he can.  The words can’t change something that’s already true.  “I fucking love you too,” Mickey says.  

And he does.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

thinking about "death for shock value" again tonight bc i just watched all four Hunger Games movies this week and Mockingjay pt. 2 always just. messes me up.

I get Prim. i get it, i do: her death meant something, it meant something both thematically - because everything Katniss has done comes back to Prim - and plot-wise because without the second wave of explosions, without Gale's confession, without Primrose's death Katniss wouldn't have known the depth of Coin's corruption. she wouldn't have had that thought of those children, her sister, pure and innocent and loving and represented in the eyes of every. child. she. meets. so close to the forefront of her mind when Coin called that meeting. she would have had a living sister, a living light in her life, and heard Coin say "symbolic Hunger Games" and voted yes for the justice of it all and because she's just impulsive like that. she'd have killed Snow and been done with it, and who knows what Panem would have become under Coin. Prim died so Katniss could learn and feel and understand the truth that Coin was more dangerous than Snow at that point. because everything Katniss does comes back to Prim - Rue, her romance with Peeta, every single choice she's made can be tied back into one girl's love for her sister.

what i don't get, what i never can understand or be alright with, is Finnick's death. i can't write a big pretty-sounding paragraph for him like i did for Prim because his death is just. a thing that happens. i can't find the purpose in it. it's senseless and useless and meaningless and Finnick Odair was the best man in the series and he deserved a life. he deserved a life with Annie and his son and he deserved to see the world reborn. he was the most genuinely good person in the whole series - he was always so soft and gentle with anyone who needed it, even Peeta after he was hijacked, and i know maybe i'm letting my own personal preferences (Finnick is, along with Johanna, my favorite character) color this but i can't come to terms with the fact that he died so senselessly. Suzanne Collins could have made it mean more, or tie into some other aspect of the series either literally or just thematically - heaven knows i adore thematic parallels - and maybe then i could accept it, but it DOESN'T. it doesn't mean anything other than a loving, gentle, genuinely sweet man - the guy who cared for Mags until she made the choice to give up her life and afterwards was so devastated that he had to be draggd out of danger, the one who took to Katniss even though she's prickly as all heck and treated her like a younger sister through everything (he calmed and comforted her and she did the same in return, honestly they're one of the healthiest relationships in the series and it's entirely platonic), the one who was still gentle and friendly to Peeta even when everyone else was calling him traitor and mutt and threat - killed for......... what? emotional impact?

or, like i said at the beginning of this post, shock value?

listen, i don't have a whole lot of coherent thoughts about like... the cultural trend of senselessly killing characters for no justifiable reason, but it's something that exists and usually i roll my eyes and move on but THG is basically my comfort series (both movies and books) and for some reason this specific thing just really upsets me and i wanted to rant about it, so.

(additions are greatly welcomed if anyone has more thoughts on this, whether about THG or anything else)

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

The King’s precious gem...

For the sweet @marilynmonroefanfics​

Hope you will enjoy this story!

"Here comes King consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

"This social climber? Don't even talk to me about this little nobody!"

"Quiet! If King Thranduil hears you, he will make you pay! The last one who dared disrespect his husband ended up in jail for almost 20 years. Luckily for him, (Y/N) pardoned him. Besides, the people loved him!"

(Y/N) did not care about those gossips on his trail: he knew he deserved his place next to the king. What a long way since he was only a healer!

The young elf can heal since his younger days. Noticed for his gifts, he succeeded in working at the royal court. However, he did not expect to be the friend and confidant of Prince Legolas.

The two young men fought together against the Orcs or any enemy of their kingdom.

One day, (Y/N) managed to save the life of Legolas when the latter fell ill. Worried about his son's safety, King Thranduil hired the best healers of his kingdom to treat him. Only (Y/N) managed to heal the young prince.

Grateful, the monarch allowed him to stay in the court. Then, he started to get interested in this young healer who can play with a knife and medicine. The elf king always found an excuse to spend more time with (Y/N).

Slowly, a romance blossomed between them, much to the surprise of Legolas. 

When the court heard about this affair, it was a shock for many of the royal counselors. Indeed, they took a very dim view of this young commoner. However, the people immediately loved (Y/N) and accepted him as their new king consort.

Since this day, (Y/N) was allowed to sit next to The King. And today, he felt his presence would be helpful for his husband, as the latter was about to greet a delegation of dwarves. This delegation was led by Thorin Oakenshield, the grandson of Thror, King of Erebor. It sounds like his beloved husband would need his help.

It is necessary to say that between Thranduil and the Erebor royal family, there was a feud that lasted for years. 

As he arrived in the throne room, a servant announced:

"His Majesty King Consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

Slightly smiling, the young man saw Thranduil sitting on his throne. 

The monarch talked with a guard:

"Let those dwarves coming here. However, be careful with this Thorin Oaekenshield: I fear he might be like his grandfather..."

"All the guards will be vigilant, Your Majesty!" stated the armored man as he saluted his king before leaving the room.

Thranduil turned his hand and gently gestured to his husband:

"Come here, my love."

"This is what I intended to do, my adored." (Y/N) smiled as he sat on his throne.

Thranduil reached (Y/N)'s hand and held it.

"I am glad that you find some time for me."

"Well, I know this meeting is capital for you. Besides, I would like you to avoid a new feud between our people and the dwarves of Erebor."

The elf king sighed.

"What can I say? You cannot trust dwarves. Especially those who come from under the mountains."

"Who knows? Maybe Thorin would be different..."

Thranduil scoffed.

"I wish I was optimistic like you, my sunflower."

"Let see..."

Suddenly, a guard shouted:

"Thorin Oakenshield and his delegation are here, Your Majesties. Gandalf the Grey is here too!"

"What this wizard is doing here?" grumbled Thranduil.

"We'll see in time..."

Shortly after, the company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived in the throne room. Among the dwarves, (Y/N) noticed a hobbit, which surprised him.

But, much to his delight, he noticed the presence of Gandalf.

"Dear Gandalf, what a pleasure to see you!"

The old wizard politely bowed with a smile:

"The pleasure is reciprocated, King (Y/N)."

As for Thranduil and Thorin, they stared stonily at each other. The Durin dynasty and the Elf King always had difficult contacts. All the story with Smaug did not improve it, and even if Thorin finally regain his throne, he never forgave Thranduil for giving up on his people when they needed help.

"Greetings, o delegation of Erebor. I hope the journey was not too arduous," said Thranduil with a cold tone.

"It went well, Your Majesty," politely said Balin with a respectful bow.

"It is a pleasure finally meeting the brave company of Thorin Oakenshield. The same company who dared fight Smaug The Terrible and gained back their kingdom," added (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

All the dwarves giggled with a blush on their faces. They all heard about King (Y/N) of Mirkwood, known as "The Gentle King" by all realms. Even Dwalin, who could not stand elves, was not able to resist.

The two kings started to negotiate new treaties between their respective kingdoms. Unfortunately, as they were both stubborn, they did not agree on anything.

"WHAT? YOU WANT US TO SELL OUR METAL? THAT IS DAYLIGHT ROBBERY!" yelled Thorin.

"It is ABSOLUTELY out of the question that my people would low the price of our wooden crafts," replied Thranduil with anger.

As for the other dwarves, they stayed silent while watching their sovereign sparring verbally with The Elvenking.

Meanwhile, Gandalf talked with (Y/N).

"I expected that they would fight. I hope you're not annoyed, dear (Y/N)."

"Not really, my dear wizard: I am not surprised by their behavior. They never got along, and I am afraid it will not change."

Suddenly, (Y/N)  noticed Bilbo slowly coming towards him. Gandalf exclaimed:

"Ah, I forgot! I should introduce you to our dear Hobbit! Master Baggins, this is King (Y/N) of Mirkwood. King (Y/N), I would like to introduce Bilbo Baggins to you. Without his talents, this quest would have failed."

Intimidated, the Hobbit awkwardly bowed:

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Baggins."

Catching his breath, Bilbo replied:

"I have to say, Your Majesty: when I told all the inhabitants of Hobbiton that I would meet you, they all ask me to check if you were as handsome and benevolent as the songs said..."

The King consort asked, amused:

"And do I meet your expectations, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo brightly blushed before replying:

"The truth is, O (Y/N), the songs did not have enough words to praise your handsomeness and kindness."

"That is very kind of you, Mister Baggins."

Fidgeting his fingers, the Hobbit:

"May I ask you something, O generous monarch?"

"What is it, Mister Baggins?"

"Well... The people of Hobbiton want to have proof that I met you. And I would like to know if you could provide me some evidence."

The King consort smiled:

"Did they ask for something in particular?"

"Not really."

"Then, I think I can help you," replied (Y/N) as he cut one of his dark locks. 

Then, he put in a golden pendant, engraved with his portrait, before handing it to Bilbo Baggins.

"When you will come back home, tell your people that it is the present from the King consort of Mirkwood to the bravest Hobbit."

The Hobbit stared with amazement at this gift. 

He stammered:

"Your Majesty... I have no words to tell you how grateful I am!"

"There is no need, Master Baggins: your actions speak louder than your words."

(Y/N) did not notice that Fili was looking at him with adoring eyes.

Indeed, the nephew of Thorin swore he never met such a handsome man in all realms. It such a shame this perfect elf married Thranduil. 

He came towards (Y/N) and politely said:

"I am pleased to meet you, King (Y/N)."

"The pleasure is mine, Prince Fili."

The young Dwarf prince felt his heart skipping a beat: this voice! It was like hearing millions of birds singing in harmony.

Clearing his throat, he asked:

"Your Majesty, may I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

To the surprise of all the people gathered in the room, Fili asked:

"Are you aware that your handsomeness is the most deadly weapon of all realms?"

All stopped talking - or yelling - and looked at the scene with surprise on their faces.

As for (Y/N), he was astonished by this question.

"Well, I am not aware that I am dangerous to this point. Could you tell why?"

Smirking, Fili declaimed:

"Like a battering ram,

Your smile makes the walls around my heart crumbling down.

Like a sharpened sword,

Your eyes destroyed the shield that protects my mind.

Like an arrow,

Your voice pierced me to the core.

And like a defeated army,

I surrender to the love I feel for you."

"WHAT?" exclaimed (Y/N).

"How dare you, you filthy dwarf!" yelled Thranduil.

"Do not use that tone with my nephew!" scolded Thorin.

Unaware of the upcoming threat, Fili pursued his declaration:

"It is the truth! You're so handsome, kind, wise, and pure. You deserve better than those arrogant elves!"

"Fili, shut up!" gritted Kili.

Feeling the anger boiling in the eyes of the Elvenking, Gandalf tried to calm the situation.

"Your Majesty, please forgive this young dwarf. He lets the ardor of youth speaking louder than his reason," he said while giving a slight slap on Fili's head.

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: not only he had to deal with the short-tempered dwarf king, but he had to handle his carefree prince.

As for Dwalin, he inwardly chuckled: he despised Thranduil, and seeing Fili courting the King consort of Mirkwood amused him.

Meanwhile, Fili claimed his love for (Y/N):

"Come to Erebor, o blossoming orchid. I would make you the happiest prince of all realms."

"Listen, Fili: your gentleness towards me is moving. But, in case you are not aware, I am married and happy!"

"And I would let no one, and especially NO DWARF, courting my spouse!" fumed Thranduil.

When he heard that, Fili had a deadpan expression on his face and declared:

"Then, I know what I have to do..."

"What do you mean?" asked Balin, sweating with dread.

"Why I fear he might say something stupid?" muttered Bilbo.

They were not out of the woods!

"I, Fili, son of Dis, grandson of Thrain, solemnly demand the hand of (Y/N) of Mirkwood as my husband!"

"WHAT?" yelled the dwarves.

"Oh no!" groaned Kili as he facepalmed.

As for Gandalf, he feared that Thranduil would be mad. And it was the case!

"Stay away from my husband, you idiot!"

Thorin snickered, which angered the elf king.

"May I know what causes your hilarity, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"At least, it proves that my nephew has good taste. And perhaps (Y/N) will appreciate our beautiful kingdom, far from your bunches of hypocrites!" replied the latter.

"What do you mean?"

"Either you are deaf, or blind... or stupid. But I find it hard not to notice that your royal boot-lickers are not happy to see a consort that is not from royal lineage!"

"Please, can we go back to the negotiations?" pleaded Balin.

"Not until this idiot stops courting my husband!" yelled Thranduil.

"Oh, shut up, you pointed-ears princess: nobody asked for your opinion!" growled Bombur.

"Guys, stop it!" begged Bilbo.

"Besides, Fili: it is not possible to marry (Y/N)!" explained Kili.

"And why?"

"First of all, he is already married! Secondly, he is an elf from the woods. He does not belong to the mines, neither the mountain!"

"Ah, I did not think about this... Ah, I have a plan! I shall create a beautiful garden on one of the mountain plateaus!"

"Oh, so you can plant something else than a vegetable patch?" said Thranduil with irony.

"You want to fight?" screamed Oin.

All this argument created chaos that gets on the nerves of the wizard.

"CALM DOWN, ALL OF YOU!" ordered Gandalf in a booming voice.

All immediately stood silent, terrified by the charisma of Gandalf.

Once the silence fell on the room, the wizard said:

"I did not try to stop a war for enduring your silly bickerings!"

"But..." protested Thorin.

"DO NOT DARE CONTRADICTING ME!"

As for (Y/N), he decided to put an end to this mess.

He turned to Fili and declared in a soft voice:

"Fili, I would like you to listen to me carefully!"

The latter nodded, afraid of the answer.

"I am all ears, (Y/N)."

"Fili of Erebor, I appreciate your compliments towards me because I feel they were sincere and pure. But for once and all, I am already married to the man I love more than my own life. 

I am aware that I am just a gold digger, a social climber for many royal counselors. A little nobody that does not deserves to wear the crown of Mirkwood. But do I care? No. 

Because all the elven people love me, Legolas helped me, and my husband would never let me go. It is more than enough for me..."

Fili sighed.

"And to say I was thrilled to introduce you to Mum. I am sure she would love you!"

"I have no doubt. But I belong to Mirkwood and his king, against all odds."

"Besides, I am sure that Mother would surely want you alive and not beheaded by a MAD ELF KING because you try to steal him his husband, you jackass!" replied Kili, fed up with his brother's shenanigans.

"Anyway, we sorted this story, and there is nothing to worry about!" wisely said Gandalf.

"I hope so..." coldly stated Thranduil.

A few hours later, the dwarves and the Elvenking managed to find some common ground. Then, Thorin and his company went back to their kingdom, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo.

As he nearly walked out of the door, Fili shouted to (Y/N):

"Dear (Y/N), if one day you come to Erebor, I promise I will show you the garden I create for you. I keep my words!"

"I can't wait to see it, dear Fili!" smirked the king consort of Mirkwood.

Once the delegation left, Thranduil sighed and said:

"Finally, they're gone! I swear to the moon that those dwarves would kill me!"

"Well, you managed to survive. Speaking of surviving, I am surprised that you did not kill Fili on the spot!"

"My dear daffodil, you have no idea how much I wanted to cut off his head!"

Amused by this fit of jealousy, (Y/N) asked:

"But you know I would never leave you, right?"

The Elvenking gently smiled and held the hand of his husband.

"No doubt about you shall ever cross my mind, dear.I know you will never leave me."

He gently kissed (Y/N)'s hand before the pair exited the room. 

On their way, the king asked:

"Now, my waterlily, could you tell me the names of my royal counselors who disrespected you? I think I might need to have a little conversation with them..."

"I assure you, Thranduil, there is no need..."

Thranduil gently shushed his consort by putting his finger on (Y/N)'s lips.

"I have to do it, my love. After all, no one dares to be rude towards the King's precious gem without suffering consequences!"

Slightly blushing, (Y/N) smiled at this compliment. 

And as they went to the dining room, (Y/N) felt like something new arrived in Mirkwood. He believed that one day, the court would not look at him as (Y/N) the little nobody with a crown, but as (Y/N) of Mirkwood, the king consort of this kingdom and the King's precious gem. 

Long live the kings...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story and I can’t wait to see future requests!

See you soon and take care! 😘🥰😍

[theglitterypages]

Title: Sweetheart Part 2

Pairings: Armin x fem! reader

Part One

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2000+

••••••

“Fix your postures!” you commanded, your hands are on your back as you walk in front of the Cadets. Levi stood behind you with a smirk on his face, he's been a little gentle with the Cadets these days but now that you're back to kick ass with him this would be so fun.

“Kirstein! Straighten up your back!”

Jean immediately obeyed while Connie was staring at you with wide eyes, this was not how they remembered you few days ago, you were soft spoken then, all sweet and all smiles but now they are seeing the tigress that Levi was talking about.

Levi was even more gentle in handling them because Levi rarely shouts yet his words carries heavy emotions but you, you can do both.

“She's the sister of the commander that's why she has the guts but I bet she's all cry and whine if she faced a Titan.”

You have a good sense of hearing and you heard what the Cadet has said about you, it wasn't the first time that someone underestimated you because of your gender and because you're Erwin's sister, it's one of the stereotypes, you don't actually mind but what you heard next took every single strand of patience inside you.

“Bet she's a good screamer in bed.”

Levi balled his hand into a fist, he may call you brat and have endless argumentd with you but he treats you like a sister and hearing the Cadets say those filthy words to you makes his blood boil but then when he saw how you tilted your head in both sides and how your eyes went blank he already knew that you can handle it yourself, you're not a simple girl after all so he let you do what you want.

Your eyes wandered around the Cadets, you were hurt by those comments, you hated being looked down just because they think you had it easy because of your brother when in fact you almost die a lot of times in the past and those wounds from Titan attacks heals in time but those words that serves as daggers stabbing your heart won't.

After a minute of searching you found the pair that you heard, the two men were standing beside Armin Arlert, it would've been a great view if the assholes weren't standing beside him, Armin Arlert's face screams peace, those blue eyes are calming.

“I bet she's been sleeping with the Captain.”

That was the last straw, Armin immediately threw hard punches towards the two guys who are both taller, and probably a couple of years older than him, he had enough of their dirty mouths, he knew that he's not suppose to do that but he couldn't stand them talking shits about you like that, his knuckles got red because of the impact and when he looked down at the two fellow Cadets, both their nose were broken as they lay flat on the ground.

Levi was shocked to see Armin straight up punch his fellow Cadets but he secretly smiled, he knew that the kid is promising. Everybody just need a little push to unleash their demons, seems like Armin Arlert has been unleashed just now.

Eren and Mikasa immediately went beside Armin to put a hand on his shoulders trying to calm him down silently, the blonde teen was heavily breathing, “I was taught by my grandfather to treat women right, you don't talk dirty shits about them like that, respect a woman the way you respect your Mother.” Armin growled through gritted teeth, he's surprised of the damage that he had done to the two men, those broken and bleeding nose gives him some sort of satisfaction but as he tore his blue eyes away from the two, he met your eyes.

You were frozen on your position, you were planning to do punch them first but Armin's action made you stop, you see the blonde guy as a soft one, the type of person who wouldn't even dare hurt a fly but here he is proving that he knows how to throw a good punch, when your gaze met, the anger on his eyes vanished, his face softened as his cheeks turned bright red including both of his ears.

With a small smile you made your way towards them, Connie, Jean and Sasha were standing behind Armin now too, checking up on him, you've deduced that he's like the baby in the group, suits him, he does look like a baby.

You looked down at the Cadets lying on the floor and grabbed their collars so you could lift them off the ground.

Everybody gasped at your action but no one dared to interfere. “I would love to have you two on our squad next expedition but we're the one leading the whole team which means...we're the first one to encounter titans and if we're unfortunate we'll be the first ones to get eaten too. I'll show you how I cry in front of the Titans then.” you let go both of their collars and let them land butt first on the ground.

You turned to Armin and smiled at him genuinely, “I appreciate your efforts for breaking their nose for me, Cadet. Thank you.” you smiled as you pat his head, Armin looked up at you with a smile, his cheeks flaming red, “It's natural human decency, M-Ma'am. No need to thank me.” you smiled at him and pursed your lips before walking away so you could go back to the center of the scouts.

“Captain Levi would take over now.”

Levi stood beside you and the Scouts saluted at him, “Take care of some written reports for me, brat.” he ordered and you nodded as a response as you walked away from the training grounds but before you could even went further, you heard grunts and gasps behind you.

You saw how the sole of Levi's boots collided with the face of the Cadets, you winced and bit your lower lip as you see how Levi kicked them hard.

“I'll make sure you two would learn how to respect your superiors now and women in general.”

You started to feel bad because you're damn sure their jaws would be dislocated because of Levi's signature kick but you remembered that they're assholes and they deserved it so you proceeded to go on and take care of the written reports instead of watching their ass get beaten.

°°°°

It was already dark when you've decided to take a walk to try and breathe some fresh air, you looked up at the dark sky, the moon was shining brightly.

Your eyes settled on the mysterious moon, you've always been fascinated of the moon, when you were a kid you often cry to tell Erwin that the moon is a creep because it keeps on following you, your brother would always hold back his laughter and would assure you that he'll protect you from the moon.

A part of you wishes that you two should've stayed as kids then, your brother has been seeking to find out the truth and as he gets closer to that truth, you're slowly losing him. You immediately wiped a tear away, you should just be happy for your brother and make sure he'll be safe, that would be enough.

You lifted your arms towards the sky as if reaching the moon, it is beautiful yet awfully frightening but the stars cast out those fears, as the stars shine brightly in the night sky you felt at ease and you smiled to yourself before putting your hands back to your pocket. It's getting colder now.

The cold wind embraced your whole and you shivered strands of your hair escaped from your messy hair bun. When the cold was too much for you to handle, wearing thin clothes is not a wise decision so you've decided to go back inside just to hear a hissing nearby, if you're right the hissing comes from the tree nearby.

Out of curiosity you slowly made your way towards the tree, you just silently prayed that it's not Cadets that are making out outside because you've witness a pair making out behind trees before and you wouldn't want it to happen again.

But as you got closer to the tree you confirmed that it wasn't a couple doing something nasty outside, it is an angel silently sitting down.

“Aren't you suppose to be sleeping by this time now?”

Armin's eyes widened as his head snapped on your direction, his mouth gaped open as while his brows raised in surprise. "I c-can't sleep Ma'am.” he stammered and looked away from you, not that he doesn't want to see you, it's just that the thin material that you're wearing is revealing your cleavage. He had to gulp and remind himself that it's not appropriate to look at women like that.

“Mind if I sit down beside you? I couldn't sleep either.”

“I-I don't really mind.”

When your arms accidentally brushed, Armin wanted to flinch but he didn't because he wouldn't want to offend you and when you looked at him you can still see how red his cheeks were even if it's dark. “Thank you for what you did, earlier. I don't really mind such comments anymore, it wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be my last either.” you chuckled bitterly, you've worked hard to be a skilled fighter so you could prove to everyone that you're not a woman living as your brother's shadows.

But sometimes life is fucked up, actually most of the time it is fucked up.

“You should inform Commander Erwin about it. I mean they're crossing the line, they're talking as if they know you.”

“How about you, do you know me?”

“It feels like...I do.” he silently whispered as he looked down on his hands, you followed his gaze and your mout gaped open when you saw that there's a bandage covering his knuckles. “By the walls, Armin...w-what happened? You shouldn't have done it, I could've taken care of them myself.” you grabbed his hand and examined it, not that you can see through those bandages but you just feel like doing so.

Armin could've taken away his hands from you but he didn't, feeling your soft skin against his is comforting, he's forgotten that he shed a tear when Mikasa put those bandages around his knuckles, he didn't break any bone but it's red and sore, he's not really cut out for scenarios like that but it was worth it because he was able to defend you at some way, in the little way that he could.

“It's just sore. I'm not really good at punching, you know. I used to get beaten up as a kid, they'll steal my food and Eren and Mikasa would come to rescue me but now, I finally...I finally get to do something for someone.”

“Why didn't you fight back before?”

“Because I can't and I'm not as brave. You know, when I came face to face with a Titan, I—I was frozen. Eren got eaten and it was fortunate that he's alive.”

You didn't notice that you stared caressing his knuckles as you listened but it seems ljke he doesn't notice too so you let it be, “But look at you now, I've heard from Erwin that you're a smart one. You've figured out who is the female titan right?” Armin looked at you and his blue eyes widened in shock as he saw how close you two were.

He knew that in one wrong move he can finally know how would it feel to have your lips press against his, if he'll move his head forward maybe he can feel how soft those lips are.

But he stayed back, he respects you. He's attracted to you but he knows his boundaries, his grandfather told him to grow up as a gentleman and all that and he thinks of Mikasa, if Mikasa would be treated so inappropriate by a man he wouldn't like that, he wouldn't like that to happen to his sister.

That's why he would behave himself around you and he'll choose to be contented of just staring at you, it's more than enough.

“W-Well it was a gamble and I was already late...it was—”

You kissed his cheek to shut him up. The poor guy looked at you as his whole face reddened, both his ears flaming up.

“W-Why d-did you do that?” he whispered as he looked away.

“I just want to. Can you promise me one thing?” you asked as you leaned away, Armin looked at you with curiosity before he opened his mouth to respond, “It depends, make me promise something that I can fulfill.” he told you. When he promised someone, he'll always make sure that he can fulfill because he hates it when promises are broken and he wouldn't want to break any promise to anyone, especially to you.

“Each one of us has our own expertise, I want you to focus on yours and if you find yourself in a fucked up situation, don't hesitate to go to me, call out my name or somethin', I have your back now, Armin.”

“Then call out my name too if you need me.” Armin told you bravely, he doesn't have any idea why he felt this way but the moment he saw you after bumping into you, he already know that he's attracted, he told Eren about it, Eren teased him and he's not amused, not that he hates it but he's afraid that you'll hear.

He often watch you from afar, most of the times you are found with the Captain, probably why some thinks the two of you are in a relationship but as you sat beside him under the moonlight, his heart was filled of hope.

“Good night then, sweetheart.” you whispered as you gently press your lips on his cheeks again, as usual, he was frozen and you stood up to walk away so you could go back inside already.

Armin followed you with his gaze as a sweet smile made its way across his lips, his eyes sparking with glee.

“Good night, sweetheart.” he whispered.

[caesthetix]

GREAT DESCENDANT — Pt. 1 Leather Journal

↪Attack on Titan series

↪content; warrior!reader, aged-up character, graphic description of violence, slow burn, season 4 spoiler

Tiny footsteps belonging to you echoed throughout the empty hallway. Your forehead scrunched as a bead of sweat trailed down your skin, but you dismissed the discomfort as you needed to find your father, wanting some explanation.

It was around four in the afternoon, and you were certain that your father must be occupying himself inside his study, probably enjoying his coffee as he read some reports regarding the military advance. You always wondered why he got all of that information even though he was not even in the military, but perhaps the book in your hand was the answer to your question, and you had to find out more.

You were used to running around this part of the mansion — since you would spend some of your time here with your father when he didn't invite the military higher-ups or some of his business partners for a meeting together. Truthfully, you could have waited for later after dinner to confront him, but your mind was already fueled with curiosity that wouldn't die without being given the right extinguisher.

So you scurry out within an instant, far from the east wing where the library was located to the west where your father would entertain his friends and colleagues. In your small journey, you took off your mules and ran barefoot, ignoring the gasp from the maid that you passed in the hallway.

Panting, you felt the exhaustion course through your body as you finally reached your destination. Some eyes regarded you with worry beneath their intimidating gaze, but they knew that you had been running out of breath before, certain that it was nothing serious.

Two guards were standing tall on each side of the door, guarding your father's study against the outside, and you were certain there were another two on the other side of the door. They didn't give you any attention or warning, so you knew that he was not in some kind of meeting or too engrossed with work.

Sucking a deep breath, you hide the book that you found behind your back before raising your hand to the wooden door, knocking it with your knuckles several times, soft yet enough that it would echo inside the room. You heard the rustling of papers, probably from some of the military letters that he read.

"Name and busi—"

"It's me, pa!"

Your voice cut him off in a gleeful manner, holding yourself from bursting hundreds of questions. If you wanted to know the truth, you needed to play your cards right. Well, what could a six years old girl do? Anything of course, especially if you were the only child (for now) and your parents loved you like you were their stars in the night sky.

You tried to hide your smirk when you heard the audible 'click' coming from the inside, followed by the door opening simultaneously. The sun penetrated through the windows, lighting up the whole room and the hallway behind you. A pleasant smell of cedarwood filled your nostrils in an instant, the unique scent that you knew embedded on your father's suit too since he spent the majority of his time here.

There was a massive round table in the middle of the room, one where you like to sit when your father was busy with work but wanted your company. You would sit there without a care and boredom since your nose mostly touched the paper book in your hand, too engrossed with whatever literature that you could find within his study.

You didn't need to go back and forth from the east wing and grabbed some books there. Your father studies already engaging enough with a wide variety of history, self-improvement, and many other philosophy books. The room would be engulfed with silence if that happened, but the atmosphere was serene and comforting to both of you, making times fly past naturally and just felt right.

"Well, isn't it my precious daughter?" He stood up from his plush leather chair, dark yet warm eyes never left your figure as you skipped toward where he was. His lips shaped into a gentle smile as he watched how giddy you looked right now, with both hands on your back as if you had a surprise for him.

It was indeed a surprise, but whether he liked it or not was another story.

"Pa, I need to speak with you!" Your bubbly personality was always so endearing. You were witty, smart, wise — his little rascal but still had a personality like a noble lady when needed.

"And what do you want to talk to me about, my little star?" He walked closer before kneeling in front of you, levelling his eyes with yours. "Something serious? Something playful? Or maybe you just want to talk to me since you missed your pa so much?" His smile turned into a little smirk, raising one of his eyebrows in a teasing manner.

You jutted your lips at his question as your hands clench tighter on the brown books that you found before. Your father waited for any kind of explanation, but you didn't open up your mouth, not even a little. But you suddenly averted your gaze away, pupils shifting back and forth.

He blinked, trying to understand what it was that you wanted. Your father then looked past you, finding the guards inside the room. It left a question inside his mind at the moment, because you never once needed to talk alone as you always threw questions at him without caring if anybody heard.

This would be the first time, and he decided to indulge you with it.

"Guards, you can wait outside."

"Sir, with all due respect—"

"Please."

The two guards looked at each other before giving your father a salute, answered with a firm nod from him. You stood still with your eyes closed as you waited until the sound of footsteps started to fade, not realizing the scrutinizing look that he threw at you. The second you heard a gentle thud echoed in the room, you let out a breath that you subconsciously held.

You were alone now, with your father waiting for any syllables to come out from your lips. A few seconds ago you were so eager, ready to burst out all of the questions that popped inside your mind. But now, as he gazed at you with a look that you couldn't fathom, you started to rethink your decision.

Would he mad at you for reading the book that he strictly said was forbidden to read? He always kept it inside a glass compartment, telling you that it was filled with a history of mankind. The truth that someday he would tell you. So would he be angry if you knew it now instead of later?

"You read the journal, my star?" You subconsciously dropped the book as you never thought he could see through you like that. Your hands were shaking behind your back before you tightly grip your bow's dress, fearing that he would not let you walk inside the library ever again.

Seeing the distress in your eyes, he immediately rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently as if to make sure that you didn't have to be afraid. That whatever you did, you always became his little star, the daughter that he loved so much. "It's alright, sooner or later I will tell you all of it."

His voice was calm as he picked up the book from behind you, opening it right in front of your face as he checked that in case some pages were wrinkled. You still kept your mouth shut, waiting for him to say something more — because for sure his words before were still not enough to calm yourself.

When he looked at you again, you were averting his gaze and decided to look down. So he closed the book and reached out for you, holding your much smaller hand as he brought you toward his desk. The silence was deafening as he didn't say anything afterwards, making you have to focus on the footsteps to dwindle your concern.

His hand was warm as it engulfed yours, squeezing it softly here and there as he plopped himself to his chair. With how light you were, he picked you up and tucked you gently on his lap, wanting to make sure that you were comfortable since it would take some time to explain everything to you.

"Now, can you tell me what you already know so far?"

It was now that you finally dared to look up, curious about the expression on his face. You should have known that your father wouldn't be angry at you, he couldn't, at least not towards you. His face didn't even show any sign of resentment, he just sat there, looking down, and waited until you were ready to talk.

"Almost everything, I guess." You finally dared to speak up, yet it still sounded so timid. "That King Fritz was not our enemy, it was thanks to him that the war is over." Continuing your words, you swallowed a huge lump. "And those people on the island, they are not demons, but they are exactly like—"

"Us."

He finished your word without pause, knowing what you were going to say next like he always did. Your forehead scrunched at this, lips turned into a scowl as you tried to understand the world that you live in right now. All the war, the hatred that Eldians received inside the internment zone, if only this true story was out in the public then they wouldn't get treated like that, right?

"B-But why do we hide this information, then?" You croaked out, not believing that your family concealed such truth. "If people knew that King Fritz was the one who wanted peace, if only the whole world knew that Eldians did not want anything but to live like a normal human, they were not going to be treated like this, pa!"

You were begging right now, needing some answer that could justify the choice they made. It felt awful, like someone had put a blindfold on you all your life, whispering to you that the world filled with hatred and that because of your ancestors, because of the blood that flows inside your veins and there was nothing else that you could do except living through the brutal knowledge.

But it was all a lie, because your family could have made a change in this world yet didn't do anything about it.

Your father just sat there, listening to your cries and complaints. He knew from the start that you were someone that would do anything for Eldians to be free, he often saw you sneaking around and talked to the maids, after all, questioning about how their children were at home and many other mundane things.

He didn't have the courage to tell you, the reason why he kept the information to himself when he was warned by the current inheritor. He didn't have the courage to tell you what lies across the sea, what slept inside the walls that the king had made. As your father, he didn't want his six years old innocent daughter to know that the fate of the world was in their hands — the Eldian.

His lips turned into a frown as he realized. No matter how much he wanted to protect you from this cruel world, no matter how much he just wanted you to live and be happy without a burden on your shoulder, he couldn't grant his wish.

Because soon, you would be the one in the family who held the biggest responsibility.

"You would know soon enough, my little star." He gulped down, dark orbs gazing at your face as he was so tormented from this fact only. Your beady eyes shone under the orange hue that slipped through the large windows, making you look even more innocent, an angel to him and his wife as he cradled you like this on his lap.

Soon, and he needed to start telling you now how much weight you would carry throughout your life. "Once you inherit the war hammer titan."

"Wake up!"

You sat up straight as you tried to inhale the air bit by bit, feeling like your dreams that you had just stolen the oxygen out of your lungs. No, it was not a dream, it was a memory that you had with your father. The day when you knew the truth, the day when you knew your responsibility and how you needed to keep a blind eye over it.

And for sure, hiding the fact from everyone was the hardest part. Especially when you had these people you called friends as you invaded the island of Paradis with the mission to take back the founding titan. You wanted to tell them the danger, or how the people inside the wall were not as different from those in Liberio.

But you had made a vow to your father to keep your lips sealed, no matter how much you wanted to share it. And you were not going to break that promise, not when you knew there was a high possibility that you wouldn't make it back alive.

"I am sorry, I should have been more gentle." Your gaze still cast down your lap, wanting to control your emotion first before interacting with the other warrior. "Nightmare?" But his gentle, mature voice was so endearing you couldn't help but lookup.

His forehead scrunched in worry as you realized that he squatted down right in front of you. Large hazel eyes scrutinizing your every movement, and you felt so bare with how he seemed like he could see right through you.

"I am fine, Marcel." You answered him a matter of factly, not wanting to prolong the constant worry that he had for his fellow warriors. "Sorry, I will clean up the firepit and be ready in a minute."

"Oh, no need. I mean— you don't need to." He stood up, reaching out his hand for you, and you took it despite the confusion that was written all over your face. "I already cleaned it up, so you just have to grab your bag and we will be ready to continue our journey."

"Marcel!" You exclaimed, stomping your feet to the ground subconsciously as your eyes drilled on his skull. "It was supposed to be my turn!" And your outburst of course caught the others' attention. "You always do something like this, making sure that everyone could leisure around while you did all the work."

"(Y/n), I am sure that he—" The glare in your eyes now fell to another victim, the colossal titan inheritor, and you could see him flinch from just being the recipient of your glare. "N-Nevermind, I will just, uhm, check on Reiner if he is okay."

And just like that, he scurried off to find his friend, not wanting to interrupt your little tantrum that he was sure would subside soon.

Bertolt knew you, you were always a little cranky when you woke up, at least that was what he could see by the past three days as he woke up with you not far from him. You needed at least a minute just opening your eyes without doing anything, and after that, you were good to go. So he understood why you seemed so extra for what Marcel did right now.

You continued to scold the older boy who just stood there scratching his nape bashfully and apologizing for what he did. He didn't do anything wrong, but you just disliked the idea that someone did something that was supposed to be your job. Though you always said thank you before taking your leave.

Feeling that you had enough with boys, you walked to Annie who was currently nibbling at some sweets that you gave her before at the boat that brought the companion here. She seemed to see your little quarrel but decided to keep silent, waiting for Marcel to lead the way when he was done fanning his reddened cheek.

Three days had passed after Marley dropped you off to this cursed land. Everyone had so much expectation for this generation, and the fact that a Tybur took part in the mission brought so much hope to the Eldians in your homeland.

Your father was right about the burden that you were going to have. All the expectations set the bar so high for you. So for that, he prepared you to be a reliable and strong individual. Ever since the revelation, he pointed a lot of private instructors to teach you all the basic things about self-defence, archery, firearms, and swordsmanship skills.

You were shaped to be the Eldian's saviour in Marley, ever since you were six. And you would make sure that all your knowledge and experiences would be put to good use.

Marcel told you about the plan, and for now, they all would rely on Bertolt and Reiner's titan since it was the most destructive and save the rest for later days. When he first told you about the plan, the two of you were alone, he liked to discuss strategy first with you because your mind was the most mature of all of them.

And all the time he told you about it, your mind always thought that it was so wrong for him to ask for your advice. You wanted to tell him not to destroy the whole outer wall, just one district was enough and everyone could sneak in already. But you knew the chances to get in were lower if there was not enough damage.

So reluctantly, you agreed. You told him that he was brilliant, telling him that it would work for the warriors. And after that, everyone would enrol in the military cadet corps, some would graduate to be a survey corps, while the others joined the military police regiment. It would need a few years to get by, but it would be the safest and optimal route.

Just a few years here and you could come back home, reading books and annoying your father even more. Though you were sure that your mother would scold you for spending too much time with him, she would want you to go horseback riding with her while telling some stories about the family.

Yes, everything would be just like before, and you couldn't wait for it.

Your eyes fleeting toward the brunette who walked in front of you, his hair swept to the back, reminding you of his brother that was the complete opposite of him in terms of personality. Marcel was gentle, compassionate, reliable, all the things that you would expect from an elder sibling. Meanwhile, Porco was aggressive, emotional, and somewhat a little rude when he talked.

And the big difference between Porco and Marcel that you knew, was the fact that the younger brother despised you. The blonde often threw shades and mockery, telling you that you were not like them, how you were a spoiled kid, and could never understand what Eldian really feels with all the privilege that you had due to your last name.

But that didn't stop you from wanting to befriend him. You could see through his harsh facade, he was actually gentle inside and cared deeply for all the warrior candidates. He even let his guard down that day when they knew Reiner would be the armoured titan inheritor instead of him, letting you sit beside him outside the headquarters as he let out a sob.

He wept silently when you put your hand on his back, comforting him through the single touch. That was the only push he needed before breaking down in front of you, cursing himself for not being a better candidate, that it was his fault for being too confident in his skill and not trying harder to get the military's attention.

Oh, if only he knew. If only he knew the real reason why he was not here.

It felt like it happened such a long time ago despite knowing a month just passed ever since. You wondered what the other warrior did right now, more accurately, what was he doing right now. Maybe he had lunch with his family, or perhaps beating himself to the pulp and kept on training until he couldn't stand anymore.

Knowing that was enough to make you frown since you really cared for him, and to think that he blamed himself for his failure broke your heart even more. Every time you walked, there was an extra weight on your chest as an ivory shark tooth pendant grazing your skin, reminding you of your days in Marley once again.

Especially the day when you received the necklace, something you never took off ever since.

And now as you walked right behind Marcel, you could only imagine that the brown strands were blonde instead. But you shook your head after that, knowing for certain he would have a longer lifespan, that he wouldn't have to carry so much burden like the rest of you. He could enjoy his life, and that was what caused Marcel to put Reiner on the pedestals instead of him.

You didn't remember since when you were getting left behind. Of course you could still see the fellow warriors in front of you, but they were a few meters ahead from where you were. It happened a lot, so you didn't really complain since they knew sometimes you would need alone time.

It was not like there were titans around anyway, the Marleyan Military had assured you that the titans would only be there near the outer wall. So everyone should be saved since it was still halfway through the journey, no one needed to worry and be too on guard for now.

At least that was what you believed until you saw a large shadow looming from behind you.

The silence was deafening when you felt the air sucked out from the space around you, leaving you to stand there alone as you slowly lost the ability to breathe. Fear, that was what you felt right now as your mind could only conclude one thing — there was a titan, right behind you.

No, you still needed to finish your mission. You had promised your father that you would come back to him, you had promised your mother that you would come back home intact, even if it needed you a few years to grant that, as long as you could see them again, it was alright.

As long as you could come back and see him happy and living a beautiful life even when your term was going to end, it would be fine.

But you were glued to the ground, your muscles tensed and you couldn't move your limbs to run, or just to evade that gigantic hand which now ready to crush your small body with its hand. Yet despite all that, you felt a strong push coming from your side, pushing you out of the way and snapped you back to reality.

You saw Marcel, his dark brown hair dishevelled as now his torso engulfed in the hand of a titan. He looked distressed, panicked, and he flailed his body around as he tried with all his might to survive, despite an impeccable fate that he already knew deep inside his heart.

No one knew where it came from, one second they were chatting, and the next as Marcel saw a titan running toward you, his feet moved on their own with one goal to reach for you. You couldn't see it, you just gave him an empty look as you were just deep in thought a moment before.

He knew that you would be too shocked to understand what happened, he knew that you couldn't move away when you turned to see what was standing behind you. And there was something inside his soul that boosted him to run faster, pushing you away as he decided to replace you.

"Come on, let's go!"

He heard Reiner shouting at you who was still sitting on the grass, eyes focused on him as you tried to wrap your head around you. There were tears in your orbs when Bertolt and Reiner pulled you away forcefully, your legs even wobbled, and that was when the ravenette decided to hoist you up over his shoulder.

Marcel heard the shout, the pleading in your voice as you called out his name. The others were running to safety, but he could still see you as your hand stretched out for him, not believing that you would lose him like this.

"(Y/n)!" He screamed with all his might, hoping that you could hear what he said. Wide teeth already surrounded his head, and it was a matter of time before his world turned black. So he needed to say it, he needed you to tell his brother that his job was done for now. "Tell Porco I did it!"

Then he was gone as the jaw of the titans closed with his body in between it. He died in the hand of a titan who no one knew where it came from. You should have been cautious, no matter what, this island was filled with titans and you shouldn't have trusted whatever the Marleyan Military said. And it should have been you, not him.

Your eyes never left the scene as you saw Marcel being devoured alive, starting from his head, slowly down to his hip. The details were so vivid and you were sure it would be engraved in your mind for as long as you lived. This would be your constant nightmare, reminding you every day what a cruel world you lived in.

And you didn't know if you were ever ready — if someday you met a circumstance when you had to face Porco, knowing that his brother died saving you.

Paradis Citizen(s)

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Azriel x Gwyn - The Jump

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716227/chapters/73319802

He was not a fan of birthdays. 

He certainly never celebrated his own. 

But the Night Court, his family, enjoyed them plenty. Though, admittedly, they enjoyed any occasion where they could all gather together for good fun and good wine. 

Tonight was Nesta’s birthday, and Cassian had gone all out on decorating the House of Wind. Rhys had gifted the place to Cassian and Nesta in honor of their mating, but Azriel still kept rooms here. The pair had insisted upon it, saying that it was much his home as it was theirs. 

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that. Home...he didn’t quite know what that was supposed to feel like. 

He stood off to the side as he always did, watching the revelry. 

Mor was speaking to Emerie. There was an ease between them that he was quite certain he’d never before seen from the female who’d once consumed his thoughts. 

It was no question that Mor was beautiful. He would always acknowledge that, would always care for her, but after centuries of pining after her, he found, in recent years, she no longer affected him the way she used to. And in truth, he was grateful for it. 

Over the centuries he’d tried to convince himself to be content with what they had. That her companionship, her friendship was enough. But that was the thing about one-sided love. No matter how hard you might feign contentment at being able to remain by their side, a part of you would always hope for more. And a heart that yearned for someone who showed no reciprocation was bound to become bitter. 

He was no exception.

One would think it would’ve made him wise enough not to ensure he never fell into the same pattern again. But he damn near had. 

Elain Archeron was lovely, gentle, and seemed to have shared his attraction. 

She was also another’s mate. 

He and Rhys had almost come to blows over Azriel attraction to the middle Archeron sister. His brother had gone as far as ordering him to stay away. An order that had irked him and had the dominant side of him almost determined to go against his High Lord’s order, if for no other reason than to prove his will was no one’s to command. However, time and some distance had given him perspective. He’d come to realize that perhaps it wasn’t so much Elain that he wanted but the idea of her. The idea of belonging with someone so beautiful and soft. The idea of being made whole, the way his brothers had when they’d found their mates. 

That was what he wanted, to feel whole. To be unbroken. 

His quiet introspection was interrupted by a burst of laughter. His eyes darted across the room at the almost musical sound. He caught sight of Gwyn speaking to Nesta and Cassian. Her face alight with happiness.

He hadn’t seen her since their uncomfortable encounter at the shop.

The sight of her put him in good spirits. Until he noticed the excessive rosy tint to her complexion. It took him a second to realize the issue. 

She was drunk, or at least well on her way to it. 

What the hell? 

He headed to where she was, eating up the distance in a few long strides. 

Cassian was the first to notice his approach. His brother gave him an interested look. Perhaps, surprised to see him headed toward people rather than away from them. 

He came up beside Gwyn, something she would normally detect immediately. But with her dulled senses she took far too long to notice. 

When she finally did she only looked up at him in confusion, like she did not know who he was. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked concerned. 

A mischievous smile crossed her face, recognition in her eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” she admitted, raising her fingers to emphasize how tiny. 

Nesta spoke up, “It hadn’t occurred to me how low her alcohol tolerance would be. Though, in retrospect, it should’ve. I doubt she grew up drinking much at the temple.” 

“I feel great though,” Gwyn interjected. 

Cassian gave her an affectionate smile. His friend looked as though he found this amusing. Azriel did not. He wanted to insist she go rest and sober up, but he knew in his gut she would not appreciate being ordered about. 

“Perhaps, you should like to get some air,” he offered instead. 

Her smile grew wider and she nodded, “That is a most excellent idea.” 

She turned to Nesta and Cassian, “Would you the two of you like to join?” 

Nesta smiled at her friend.

“I think we’ll stay inside, mingle with the others. But you’ll be safe with Azriel,” his brother’s mate started saying, only to meet his eyes, “Right, Az?” 

He returned her stare, “Of course.”

Nesta gave an approving nod and took Cassian by the hand, leading him away. 

Azriel offered Gwyn his arm, uncertain she’d be able to make her way to the balcony without some assistance. He waited for her to scoff, offended, but she took it with no protest. 

He led her over to the double doors leading to the balcony and pushed them open.

Releasing his arm, she rushed to the edge. Her face was awash with wonder as she took in the light of the stars, almost as if seeing them for the very first time.

He quietly observed as she took a deep breath, taking in the cool night air. 

“You know I never knew how much I missed the sky until I saw it for the first time again after spending nearly two years locked away in the dark,” she confessed, a smile on her face, “I thank the stars, that I found the courage to meet Nesta and Cassian up here that first day.” 

He did too. 

In moments like this, he was in awe of her. This young woman, whose soul remained bright, whose heart still managed to be grateful, even after all she’d endured. 

Gwyn spun back around to him, “Shall we play a game?” she teased. 

He smirked at her, “What sort of game?”

“A trust game,” she hopped up onto the ledge, sending his heart damn near leaping out of his chest.

“What are you doing?” 

She stood facing him and shot him a playful smile. 

“Game starts...now!” she called out, letting herself fall backward off the ledge. 

Fuck. He cursed. 

He spread his wings and jumped after her. 

She was falling fast, but he was faster. He swept her up into his arms and pulled her close. Moments later, he had them touching down gently on the ground below. 

“What the hell was that!?” his voice near shouting. 

Gwyn tapped her chin in thought, “I believe humans call it a trust fall.” 

His brows furrowed in annoyance, “You could’ve been hurt.”

She stared at him, looking genuinely surprised at his frustration, “I only did it because I knew it was safe.” 

“Jumping off a balcony when you cannot fly is hardly safe,” he admonished.

“It is when I know you’ll catch me,” she all but sang back, grinning up at him. 

He fell silent at her admission. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

So, he shook his head and changed the subject. 

“Let’s get you back into the house.” 

As he readied to fly them back up, she spoke. 

“About the necklace...” she started. 

He winced that the mention, uncertain he wished to discuss it with her in her current state or any state. 

But she was too drunk to pick up on his mood.

“I want you to know I was never angry I was...hurt some. But mostly I was...embarrassed...I think...I don’t...it doesn’t matter,” she trailed off, “I know you didn’t have ill intentions. I’m the one who made assumptions.”

He paused. About what?

“So it wasn’t you who hurt me. It was me. I - never mind, it is silly anyways.”

“No. It’s not. Tell me,” he insisted. 

She hesitated, “I was silly for thinking someone like you would like someone like me.” 

Her admission floored him. Why would she think that?

Any male would be so lucky to -

He stopped himself. He couldn’t have this conservation now. Not when she likely wouldn’t even remember any of this come morning. 

Tucking her close to his chest, he went ahead and winnowed them back upstairs. 

Gwyn glanced around, clearly not understanding how she’d gotten from one place to the next. 

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he declared. 

She shook her head, “You can’t enter the dorm area, priestess’ only.” 

Damn, that was right. Funny how she happened to remember that little detail. 

As though summoned by her sister’s presence, Nesta appeared.

“She’s a bit of mess so it probably would not be wise to bring her downstairs,” the female pointed out, “I’ll take her back to my old rooms, that way if she needs anything I’ll be close by.” 

“It’s alright. I’ll bring her,” he insisted. 

Nesta raised a single brow. 

“I want to make sure she’s fine,” he defended, holding the female’s stare. 

“And you don’t trust that I’d make sure of that?” Nesta returned, with the barest hint of offense. 

“I - Nesta, please, let me do this," he requested. 

She took him in with her all too seeing gaze. 

They stayed like that. Assessing each other, until she realized he wouldn’t yield on this. At which point, she only nodded her assent. He gave a single nod, passing her to take the stairs up. 

Reaching the room in little time at all, he opened the door - taking care not to jostle Gwyn in his arms. 

With steady footsteps, he headed over to the large bed. Kneeling on the edge, he laid her down as gently as possible. 

His shadows danced around her, kissing her skin as though wishing her good night. 

She curled up with his arm. He tried to pull away but she held on tight. 

“Gwyn, Gwyn,” he whispered, to no avail. 

He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into her face, and she nuzzled his hand. Her hold on him loosening. 

He was about to pull away again when she whispered his name, “Azriel.”

The sound was so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it. He stared down at her, trying to discern if she was awake. But she did not stir. 

His name on her lips brought the tiniest smile to his face. Carefully, he extracted himself from her hold and reluctantly got off the bed. Something inside him calmed at the sight of her peacefully sleeping face. He stared down at the hand she’d held in hers. 

“If there’s anyone who isn’t good enough, it’s me,” he whispered, eyes returning to her.  

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Goodnight, Berbara.” 

- - - 

Her head was pounding. 

She had a sour taste on her tongue, and she was unbelievably thirsty.

Turning over in bed, she opened her eyes. It took all of two seconds for her to realize this was not her room. She sat up and frantically looked around. Absolutely nothing looked familiar. 

Staring toward the door Gwyn willed herself to remember how she’d gotten here. 

She took a deep breath and counted down from twenty. By the time she reached ten, everything from the night before came flooding back. Her face heated from embarrassment. 

God, she could not believe she’d done and said those things. 

Glancing on the nightstand she realized someone had placed a jug of water there, along with a glass. She smiled at the thoughtfulness. 

Filling it to the brim, she took a large sip. When she suddenly remembered she had morning plans. 

With Azriel. 

Oh, gods. 

She was never drinking again.

For a brief instant, she considered not showing up. But that idea went as quickly as it had come.

She was a grown woman. She would not hide from her mistakes and avoid Azriel when he’d been nothing but good to her. Despite her ridiculous behavior. With that in mind, she jumped out of bed and quickly hurried back to her own room, to change out her clothes, before heading up to meet him.

Gwyn had just made it past the archway when Azriel turned. He looked almost surprised to see her. Which was strange because surely his shadows had warned him of her approach. 

He watched with keen focus as she approached.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted.

She met his handsome gaze head-on, “I wouldn’t miss this. I know how busy you are, and I’m the one who asked you to teach me the technique I found in the old tome.”

For a moment, Azriel said nothing. She started to grow a bit anxious, but thankfully he put her out of her misery. 

“Shall we get started then?” he asked. 

She nodded, getting into a fighting stance. 

And with that, they fell into familiar territory.

- - -

Any unease and tension between them had faded with each calculated movement.

He would have to leave soon. Spymaster business. Nesta mentioned it to her the other day in passing when she’d visited her in the library.

In one final attempt to take him down, she darted forward. But just before her hit landed, he stepped out of the way. Her momentum had her tumbling forward, but before she started to fall Azriel caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

Still off-balance, she didn’t catch herself in time and wound up crashing into his firm chest.

Palm pressed against him, she pulled back. Praying she managed to keep from blushing, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. 

“Thank you for catching me,” she voiced, and then, remembering events of the night before, she added, “Both times.”

A smile slowly curved his lips. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re welcome, on both counts.”

She knew she was doing a piss poor job of not blushing.

“Oh, also, I meant what I said by way. I know you giving me the necklace didn’t mean what I thought it did. So you don’t have to worry about me having any silly ideas.” 

Gwyn felt him stiffen. Turning her head, she saw his expression had shuttered at her words. Which left her a bit confused. 

Perhaps, her words hurt because they made him think of his own situation. How he pined after a female who already had a mate. It pained her to see him this way, but it wasn’t her place to address it. He wasn’t hers to worry over. 

“Right...well I should go. I mean, I know you have somewhere else to be and so do I so...”

When he said nothing to stop her. She turned to leave.

His voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him, “Gwyn...are we okay?” he asked hesitantly.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was the one who’d made a fool of herself yet he seemed to be the one beating himself up over his own mistakes. 

She smiled, meaning every word, “We’ll always be okay.”

~~~

Author notes: I thankfully have not been privy to much the fandom drama that apparently has been occurring as of late, and for that I am grateful. But knowing that it is happening somewhat inspired the ending for this chapter. The reminder that no matter the drama: We will be okay. I genuinely enjoy this series, and I obviously ship Gwynriel. But I know that at the end of the day, this is a work of fiction. We’re meant to get enjoyment out of it. Not start petty wars over it. Anyways, that’s all I have to say on the topic and I promise shall not bring it up again because I don’t like to invite negativity into my life. I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter, and if so do please like and comment =D

Bonus notes: 

Me: You’ve determined a schedule Cindy. Do not post until Saturday.

Also me: The world needs more Gwynriel / Azriel x Gwyn content now!

Me:...

Me: Random whims you win again! 

So yeah, let’s just say I’ll post once a week whenever I fancy the chapter complete 😆

~~~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium

@brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​

@my-fan-side​

[utterlyinevitable]

Hurricane (Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Rating: T+ Warning: angst Summary: A hurricane is falling over Boston. Edenbrook has been evacuated and some very different doctor’s end up seeking shelter together.  

A/N: The ending is trash. But it’s my trash. We’ve got one more chapter to go and then that’s a wrap on this project! 

________________________________________

Naveen drove the car back to the cabin before parking it on the cobbled drive, the engine shutting off with a quick flick of his key. Still caught in an awkward silence as heavy as the rain clouds above, the trio padded back towards the cabin. Ethan watched Becca out of the corner of his eye, holding a few paces back with Naveen to let her approach the porch first. In the doorway, Sienna was waiting with two bath towels draped over her arms. A wave of relief washed over her petite form as she saw them; her big eyes softening and bottom lip quivering with all the emotions she saved for the worst of outcomes.

“Becca!” Sienna called as she closed the distance between her and Becca, wrapping her soaking wet friend in a hug around a large, plush towel. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

For someone who’s life nearly drifted away with the current earlier, Becca seemed strangely quiet and calm. She didn’t even look at Sienna; darkened eyes trained on her peripheral, towards the unrelenting waters. “I’m fine, Si. Just went for a little swim.”

Sienna looked at her with critical eyes, not believing a single word coming out of her friend’s mouth. She would have said something in any other circumstances, but she was too thankful that Becca was breathing at the minute. This conversation would have to wait. She turned her attention to the other rogue swimmer now coming up behind them, handing him the other towel still draped on her arm.    

“Ethan, are you okay?” she asked the attending, her trained doctor’s eyes scanning him for obvious injuries. 

He took the offered towel gratefully. “Please, there is no need to worry about me.” He wiped his face first then draped the burgundy fabric over his shoulders, shivering as the cold wind caught his wet clothes, “Where’s Jenner?” 

Sienna nodded towards the ajar door, her arms still wrapped securely around her best friend. “In with Elijah.” 

Ethan nodded and went inside to his dog, sparing one last glance towards a despondent Becca on his way. 

With a small, resigned sigh, Sienna turned her full attention back towards her friend and guided her to the door. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” 

Sienna led Becca inside and up to her room. Elijah didn’t notice the girls as he was in deep conversation with Ethan in the archway to the den. For that, Becca was thankful; they could just slip upstairs and rest.  

 As soon as the girls reached the threshold of the master suite, Sienna closed the door softly behind them and reached for her friend, her eyes severe now that they were blessed with the privacy they didn’t have earlier. “You okay?” She asked with a concerned hand gripping Becca’s forearm; her tone of voice emitting a firm warning that she would accept the truth and nothing else.

Becca shrugged Sienna off, taking a step back to shed her wet clothes and throwing on her pajamas. Biting her tongue this round, Sienna gathered up the strewn garments into a pile and wrung them out in the bathroom, making a mental note to wash them once the power came back on. Becca didn’t waste a single second before immediately crawling under the covers while Sienna watched with a very careful eye.  

Sensing the stare, Becca sighed heavily. “Si, I’m fine. Truly.” 

Her friend wasn’t convinced. “That’s what you say, but you were literally being ripped down stream, you could have died.” 

“But I didn’t.” 

Light pads of sock-clad feet walked to the bed with private determination and sat on the edge of the mattress, her eyes begging. “Talk to me, please.” - a hand reaching for the top of Becca’s thigh - “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

But Becca wasn’t waving, keeping her gaze on the darkwood bedpost in front of her to avoid Sienna’s concerned one. “That I really need to sleep. I’m exhausted.” 

“Bec-” 

There was a knock at the door, making both ladies tense in place. Sienna reluctantly moved to open it and was met with Dr. Banerji’s warm smile, his medical bag cradled against his hip. 

Ever in dire situations like this one, the senior doctor never seemed to run out of positive energy. He stepped in the room and glided closer to the bed, a comforting smile decorating his lips. “I’ve come to take your temperature and listen to your lungs,” he informed them. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

Becca rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. She swung her legs off the bed and sat on the edge, letting Naveen inspect her. Thankfully, she only had a few cuts on her hands that were in need of bandaging, most likely inflicted while she fought to hold herself against the current earlier 

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he applied ointment and bandages to her palms.  

“Tired.” 

“As expected,” he nodded. She wasn’t forthcoming, so he made sure to update her on what has been going on downstairs; “Ethan has a gash on his leg. Dr. Greene is stitching him up.” The gossiper in him carefully gauged her reaction while his more romantic side hoped to see something pass along her features, possibly akin to relief, but he was disappointed there was nothing but the tired eyes of a woman who’s been through hell that afternoon. 

She felt his critical gaze searching her. The third one silently scrutinizing the last hour; and it made her blood begin to boil.  

“I didn’t need rescuing. I know how to combat a riptide. What he did was stupid,” she clarified, indifferent to his comment.  

Naveen chuckled and offered her a kind smile, although one that hid a hint of seriousness in it. “We both know exactly why he did it, Becca.”  

Becca scoffed and shook her head, looking away. 

The older doctor sighed and put away his medical tools. He obviously wasn’t going to get anything out of her tonight, and he’d been around this kind of temperament long enough to know when to resign. It was almost comical just how similar she was to his protégé, especially when it came to their ironclad stubbornness. “You’ve been through a lot today, dear. I’m prescribing you some much-needed rest.” 

Becca rolled her eyes.

With a taut smile, Naveen gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder before taking his medical bag and leaving the room.

  While Naveen was with Becca, Sienna had excused herself to make some tea. The petite resident was now staring at the kettle, transfixed, but not actually watching the steam spill out into the shadows of night. The worry for her friend still ever present in her mind and the creases on her forehead. In a daze Sienna poured two two mugs full. 

She was just setting the kettle back down on the hob when a gruff sound had her jumping out of her trance and turning on the balls of her feet.  

“Let me,” Ethan said quietly. 

The two shared the same despondent look, though one of them had a deeper reason for it. 

Sienna’s eyes expertly roved over him. He’d changed into clean pajamas, his hair wild and partially dry from drying it in a towel. His weight being carried on one side of his body, no doubt from his injury. His eyes were dark, and there were prominent purple circles under his eyes. And his large hand was extended towards her, waiting with all the patience of a dying man. 

With a small smile, she hands the mug over without a single reservation. 

And Sienna watches intently as Ethan gingerly makes his way through the cabin and up to Becca. 

 *

In the few short minutes she was left alone Becca snuggled deeper into the blankets. Rolled onto her side so her back was to the door and her face buried in a pillow begging her to spill everything all over. 

Over her tormenting thoughts she recognized the patter of footsteps against the hardwood of the hallway and sniffled all the emotion back. If Sienna saw her crying it’d become a much bigger thing than Becca ever wanted it to be. She’ll save her tears for later. 

When the steps grew louder, crossing the threshold, Becca muttered, “You should just sleep here tonight instead of going up and down to check on me.” 

“Do you think that’s wise?”

Even in the minimal light of the candle on the dresser Ethan could see her stiffen. Could hear the discontented sigh that escaped her when his words met her ears. 

He stood suspended in the doorway, questioning every instinct he thought he knew.    

Becca shifted under the sheets, moving to sit up in bed. 

“Thought you were Sienna.” Her tone was still and level and wildly indifferent as she chanced a look at him.  

“Sorry to disappoint,” he muttered back. Crossing the distance Ethan held out a mug to her; “Are you okay?” 

She took the offering, a forced smile on her lips. “Peachy.” 

“Becca…”

“I’m fine, Ethan.” She groans, deflating. “What do you want me to say?” 

“You can start with why you’ve been upset with me all day.” 

Becca couldn’t help the absolutely indecent chortle that erupted from her. 

“I’m not upset with you. I’m mad at myself.” 

Ethan made a garble akin to Huh?

And that just fueled the fire that’s begun to rage within her the last day and rivals the treacherous storm this hurricane caused. 

“Why did you come after me?” She all but spat the accusation. “It was so reckless and stupid. You could have been hurt. You have stitches for Christ’s sake!” 

“You could have drowned. I wasn’t going to let that happen.” 

The audacity in his unbridled poise had her stirring under the sheets and gripping the mug tighter. 

“Superman Complex already belongs to someone else. Why, Ethan.” 

It was a standoff between them. Him in his dry clothes - white tee and gray sweatpants, standing at the side of her bed. Becca was shielded by the blankets but still sitting tall and commanding for someone of her stature. He couldn’t read her ever-telling body language in the dim light of the master bedroom. All he could make out was her silhouette, rigid and doing all she could to cloak herself behind an unsuccessful curtain of hair.  

Holding onto the sliver of revelation he had earlier, Ethan spoke truthfully. 

“Because I care about you. You have such a fulfilling life ahead an-” 

It certainly didn’t have the intended impact. For she cut him off with a resoundingly offended; 

“Can you stop.” 

His darkened azure eyes were wide with panic. “What -” 

“I’m sick of these mind games.”

Her tone was flat, and that scared Ethan Ramsey more than anything. It would be better if she was yelling. He found himself wishing she was yelling even if he had no inkling as to what this argument is actually about.  

“I know you care about me, Ethan. But is that all this is?” 

She finally looked him in his eyes. The darkness of the room complimented the depths of her darkened irises, and he couldn’t see a single emotion in them. All he could see was all of his failures. 

“I - I’m in too deep with you. I may have almost drowned this afternoon, but it was nothing compared to this choking feeling of swimming in all this doubt and uncertainty.” 

He moved towards her. Placing his mug on the bedside. This close he could just begin to make out the hurt in the creases of her frown. 

“Becca,” he reached for her. His hand suspended in midair, waiting for her permission to cup her cheek. 

Instead, she looked down at her fingers tracing the Edenbrook logo on the pristine white ceramic mug between her palms. 

Ethan waited. 

And waited. 

Frozen in place until she said something, anything. 

“Be honest with me,” the words came out on an exhale. “No one else is around. Just me.” Her voice so frail as she turned her whole form towards him. “Tell me.”

The outstretched fingers on his hand curled inwards. His fist raised -- once, twice punching against an invisible opponent as his inner self weighed all his options.

He could tell her - he could finally be truly honest. 

He could do what’s right. 

He could lay everything out there and let her take the reins. 

More realistically, he could continue to hold onto the values he’d had all his life. 

The longer the silence hung between them, and the pattering of the storm echoed throughout the bedroom walls, the more a reality without her became apparent.

Rebecca Lao is a strong woman - he knows this. And Ethan is ever so aware that she won’t wait for him forever. If her stint today told him anything it’d be that it is he who couldn’t survive a life without her. 

Every millisecond that passed, every slight turn of her head and stroke of her finger against the mug, he knew he was losing her. And for once, Ethan Ramsey - renowned doctor, known for his belligerent voice and affluent vocabulary - couldn’t find the words.  

Just as she let out a disquieting breath, he took the leap. Knees pressed flush against the side of the mattress. Long, deft fingers grazing the quilt at the side of her hip. His eyes never leave her. Becca was looking down as if all hope was lost. As if his silence spoke for him.  

It didn’t - 

“I want to be with you.” 

Becca felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs. How long had she been waiting to hear them? How long has she been hoping Ethan Ramsey would commit to only her with a promise of forever? Far longer than she’d care to admit, that’s for sure. 

Ethan watched her lips part, her jaw slacken. Every pretty feature he adored more than life itself stunned stiff. 

In true fashion Becca schooled her features as soon as his words rang through the mahogany room. Bitter words formed on her tongue, accompanied by a desolate huff, 

“You sure about that?” 

Not a single hesitation as Ethan responded, “Yes.”  

“You sure have some fucked up way of showing it.” She watched him from the corner of her eye, shifting in his place and a rueful tug at the corners of his mouth. 

Ethan kneeled down beside the bed, coming to her level, “I know.” 

This is never how Becca imagined getting Ethan Ramsey down on his knees. All those fantasies didn’t join a near death experience or a fight. 

His palms spread out on the quilt. All of him itching to touch her. If he could touch her, everything would be okay. 

A beat forced itself between them. Ethan staring at his fingers inching towards her above the horrid colored quilt, and Becca looking blankly at the top of his head. 

And then she murmured;  

“I can’t be with you if you’re going to treat me like shit all the time.” 

“It was never my intention. I just want what’s bes-” 

“Best for me, I know. But you don’t get to dictate that. It’s my life, I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.” 

He was listening. He was guilty and listening. 

“I want you, Ethan.” 

Those words were like music to his ears - to know she really, truly shared the sentiment. His deep blue gaze flickered up to her; staring at her from under long lashes and hanging on to her every word. This was everything they’ve both wanted - a proper admission of devotion. Then why did she look so sad?  

“But not if you’re going to keep pulling away from me.”  

Ah. There it was. All his faults coming back - his one mistake at abandoning her after she needed him most digging deep.  

“I’m sorry. All of this was to protect you. I’ll always, always protect you.” 

Becca’s heart skipped a beat at the unbridled conviction in his tone against her better judgment.  

“I don’t need a hero, Ethan.” Becca shook her head in kind admonishment. “I want a partner. Someone who will let me make mistakes and just hold me through it at the end of the day.” 

A bolt of lightning cracked in the distance. Their stare on one another so strong, devoted, that she couldn’t see through the clear blue of his irises and deep into his soul the moment the fleeting lightness peered in. 

“Okay,” was all he said.  

He responded quickly and with such fortitude that she couldn’t help but be skeptical. 

Becca rose a brow. 

Ethan moved closer and grabbed her hand, adding a squeeze. 

In a low voice she said, “I want to make the most of the time we have left. If I get a job elsewhere… I don’t want to regret anything.” 

His brows pulled together as this little known fact wormed its way into his rationality. “You’re thinking of leaving Edenbrook?” He held onto her hand just a bit tighter. 

“I don’t know,” she half shrugged. “If…”

He finished the question for her. “Of course you’ll have a job. The spot on my team is yours.” 

“Yeah, I know. But if…” Becca didn’t know how to accurately explain her fears. If they didn’t work out after all this would she still be able to work with him? Would he be able to? What if she received an amazing offer elsewhere. What happens to them if she takes it? 

“Can we not think about this right now.” 

Taking both her cold hands in his, Ethan simply nodded. 

He could feel the scary stirring in the pit of his stomach. Every pang of it subsiding the longer her warmth was within reach. The last of his fears overtaken by the most adorable sound as she stifled a yawn.  

Ethan let go of her hand just long enough to brush some strands back from her face. Un-showered and salty from the day’s events her cheek was still soft under his touch. He leaned up to press the lightest of pecks to her forehead. 

Ethan was less than a few centimeters away from where she wanted him most. One movement and it could all be right and well. Becca brushed her nose against the stubble of his chin, coaxing him downwards. She could feel his grin against her skin as his stubble marked her nose. Every second he didn’t succumb, the tip grew redder and redder. 

Ethan pulled back - too far for a quick descend down to her lips - and Becca almost threw a tempered fist into the mattress. Almost. 

He was looking at her with such reverence it made her whole entire body tingle. Like his stares were the hand of Da Vinci trying to capture her image - immortalize it for the rest of time. Trying desperately to paint this to memory - this moment where everything for them seemed to change for the better. This was the moment Ethan Ramsey knew. 

Becca was mere inches away. One more movement and she would know - know that he is irrevocably her. One more movement and he’d seal their fate. 

Her eyes flickered down to his chapped lips, and this time she didn’t look away. This time there was no enchanting classic playing on the television, just the person before them. This time Ethan was thankful for her focus. He let out the breath he was holding in. Watched her eyelids flutter as the warm gust met her lashes. Leaned in and listened. Listened to the erratic thumping. Thumping of his heart or hers or the hurricane, he didn’t know. 

Didn’t care. Couldn’t give a damn about anything other than her. 

Their lips met. Softly, tenderly. The shortest, most endearing kiss they’ve ever had. Neither wanting to ruin this with overzealous lust.  

They pulled back, unencumbered smiles gracing their features; and then she yawned again. 

Light with strange happiness, Ethan gently pressed her back into pillows. Pulled the covers around her to tuck her in. 

He kissed her chastely once more. Then pulled away. 

Every step he took from her side of the bed had her chiding herself for being so stupid for believing him this time. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. 

Ethan moved through the darkness. The raging winds of reality jolted through them, pounding on the expansive windows. Getting louder and more unruly the further he got. 

But then he did something so unexpected. So surprisingly unlike the man she thought she knew. 

He pulled back the covers of the other side of the bed and slipped in. Ethan shifted closer and closer atop the king sized bed until his arm wrapped around her waist, the other snaking under her neck. Becca welcomed him without a single hesitation or ill thought. This is exactly what she hoped for yesterday. 

Ethan had that smile - that one smile reserved only for her - as he dove into the covers with her, never intending to come back up. Their sweet embrace was all the sustenance he needed to survive. In this moment - and all of them to come, he’s sure - he and Becca were the only two people in the universe.

The storm outside was moving miles and miles away. 

________________________________________

A/N: there was meant to be a cute bathtub scene at the end before they went to bed. it required too much effort so it got the axe. oh well! thanks for sticking around <3

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