#make my place feel as comfortable and safe as possible. i keep a journal nearby and relaxing music playing. and i try to sortof like

[dhampir-dyke]

[softcallofdutyimagines]

How Do I Love Thee? | Knight!Weaver x Princess!Reader | Medieval AU | Chpt. 1

Summary:

The day has finally come. Your bodyguard, the man you've trusted with your life since the day you were born, has reached the age of retirement. Being the only child of your royal parents, the King and Queen are quite keen on keeping you safe, so naturally a new one must be selected. When the dust of the tournament settles, a champion is chosen, one far younger and stronger then the last...

In an age full of tales of handsome men in shining armor and chivalrous heroes of great courage and honor, could you be in for a forbiden love story of your own?

Tags: Slow burn

Warnings: None, except for a small fight scene involving mentions of blood

“Goodnight my Lady”, your lady in waiting bows her head politely as she exits your chambers, closing the heavy wooden doors behind her with a soft thump. Her footsteps recede off into the night down through the thick stone corridors as you lay awake in your downy bed. Two sconces glow faintly in the night, providing just enough light for you to navigate the large, dark room.

Once you’re sure you’re alone, you grab your small candle and pad across the cool stone floor to steal some light. It catches quickly and you’re off once more to your desk. You pull out your poetry books and studies to retrieve a small leather bound notebook. It contains all sorts of things like sketches and sonnets that you've penned, but most of all it’s filled with your musings of the day.

You tap your quill on the edge of the inkwell and set its point to the parchment.

Today has been a rather sad one indeed. Your old guardsman has retired from your father’s service, the very same man who’s protected you and your person since you were but a little girl. He’s much like a grandfather to you in a way, and it pains you very deeply to see him leave you. Your father has tried to comfort you with the promise that a tournament will be held the very next day to get you a new guard as soon as possible, but the absence of a knight isn’t what troubles you.

You sniffle, a tear threatening fall from your eyes as you pause, recalling a lifetime of memories and yet being forced to let them go. Gathering your strength with a deep breath, you write the final words you old guard left you with:

“Be brave, my little Princess. I know you can”

At last you write that you are not looking forward to tomorrow and that you expect to be quite beside yourself. It’s all you can write before the despondency overcomes you again.

Being the Lady that you are, you retrieve one of your ever present nearby handkerchiefs and dry your eyes. You set your journal back into it’s hidden home and restore your books to keep it safe. With the desk returned just as it was, you tiptoe back to bed and blow out your candle. Moving aside the velvet drape, you think one last time on your faithful old guard, remembering all the memories of your childhood you shared as you climb back under the sheets.

Tomorrow is a new chapter for the both of you, you suppose. You hope his story ends sweetly.

---

The tournament begins with much fanfare and ado as the festivities kick things off. You’re sitting pretty in a lovely silk gown between your mother and father, both equally dressed up. There’s games and feasting and music and dancing… All the things something of this magnitude should include.

And, as you predicted, you’re quite bored indeed.

As yet another jaunty reel plays from the minstrels, you can’t help but roll your eyes and look onwards. Past the castle grounds, past the village, past the fields and farm lands… Way, way out in the distance to the forest and mountains.

That’s where your soul lies.

Being the Princess is all well and good, but in truth, your heart yearns for nothing more than to simply be free. Even if all that’s out there is more grass and trees, just as there is all around you, oh what you’d give for the chance to see it. To touch the grass and leaves you’ve never seen before. To feel and smell the wind in it’s wild, untamed stomping grounds. Some days you dream of just running away, but…

Well, your guard would never allow it. And, here you are, getting assigned yet another figure to keep an eye on you in the name of your father.

A blast of trumpets shatters your daydream as your attention is called back to present. The royal scribe stands on a podium, announcing the main attraction at last. He reads off a long, tiresome list of names “Sir this and that”, “Lord ho hum”, ugh… At least the fighting should be entertaining, you suppose.

There are several rounds and three main competitions: Jousting, Dueling, and Archery. Score will be kept and knights slowly eliminated until a final two are left, at which point, the two will engage in a duel and may the best man win.

Admittedly, you tune out for the first several rounds until the riff raff and washed up old timers are sorted out. Not as though you have any say in the matter, but you pick a few favorites and follow their progress through the competition. Although in all honesty, you pick said favorites by their horses and the colors and patterns of their coat of arms.

However… One knight in particular has caught your eye both in skill and trappings.

His coat of arms features a fierce looking tiger and swords, the style of which tells you his family hails from somewhere out east, and his horse is a lovely dusty grey. Even you must admit, his skills so far aren’t bad either. He’s coasting through the competition with little difficulty and, even with the few close calls here and there, by the time he’s made it up to the final rounds you would almost dare to say you have your heart set on him.

Silently you root him on as he tiredly batters through opponent after opponent, somehow maintaining strength and endurance up until the very last man. A few breaks have been called in between rounds up until this point, but now the last two will be taking a long recession before the final fight.

Food and drink and dance is had once more for peasants and nobility alike while each knight gathers their strength, but you can’t keep your mind off the excitement of the final duel...

When at last, the time has come, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Once more the scribe’s voice rings out over the silent crowd as the two men ready themselves in opposing corners of the muddy sparring ring, “Fighting for the honor of being named the new protectorate of the Princess, Sir Weaver and Lord Fletcher will face each other in armed combat! The rules are as follows-”

The scribe's voice fades away, and immediatly your mind begins to wander.

Sir Weaver…

The name rolls off your tongue as you watch him pace and stretch in his corner of the ring. He’s armed with a sword and shield, classic weapons of the heroes of old, just like in your books and sonnets… His shield is tall and rectangular, with that very same tiger proudly emblazoned on its front. He gives his sword a few test swings and even from here you can hear the ringing of razor sharp steel.

His opponent wields a smaller shield and a rather nasty looking mace, a classic for smashing heads and armor alike. Thankfully you won’t have to bear witness to such violence should Sir Weaver lose, but you don’t much fancy the idea of such a savage weapon anyway. It may have its place in battle, but it doesn’t seem very… Heroic.

After far too much more courtly addresses, a trumpet sounds to begin the fight.

The Lord charges the Knight, mace raised to strike, as Sir Weaver stands his ground like a tower of strength. He deflects the blow easily, as well as the few more that come after it. A smart tactic, you observe, letting the opponent come to him and tire himself out. Lord Fletcher seems to believe that he can smash right through the great steel shield as that’s where most of his strikes end up landing. Sir Weaver’s tiger is quite battered, but holds out well.

All the overhead motions of the mace swings prove to be a disservice soon enough though, as the knight stabs his way through chinks in the armor here and there as the Lord slowly grows more and more weary. His movements become sluggish and desperate, a lethal combo, and before long the mud is mixed red with the wounds of the mace wielding Lord.

To his credit, he fights to the bitter end, but the duel is called before too much blood is shed.

A roar of approval goes up from the crowd. Amidst the cheering and the fanfare, Sir Weaver bows politely before the royal family and makes to exit the arena. You cock an eyebrow. Curious, you would’ve expected more of a show given the grand odds he just overcame.

Regardless, you clap politely and watch the two men exit the ring. It’s nearly night by now and there’s still more to do. Tomorrow your new knight will be sworn in and given his orders and hours and so forth… But for now, you have many things to tell your journal tonight.

---

The next day begins as it always does. You wake up at sunrise. Your chamber maid helps you dress, pick out your outfit for the day, and style your hair. Finally, you’re ready to join your family and the court for breakfast. A few questions come your way asking about whether or not you’re excited to meet your new knight and what you thought of the tourney yesterday, but otherwise you’re ignored as usual.

When breakfast passes, the court moves on to the throne room. It’s easily the most illustrious room in the palace, save for perhaps a few that suit your particular tastes. Small windows sit high above near the vaulted ceiling, raining in sunlight and fresh air from far above. Giant chandeliers hang proudly, holding a dizzying host of candles. The walls are blanketed in gorgeous tapestries, some of which you’ve had the honor of assisting in the weaving of. They’re laced with threads of gold and silk, and when they catch the light just right, they give off an ethereal glow, bringing the stagnant scenes to life.

The typical court proceedings will begin shortly, but first the matter of your new bodyguard is to be addressed. Soon enough, Sir Grigori Weaver of, so on and so forth… is announced to the court. Finally, something interesting for the day. You sit up properly in your throne and take in the sight.

He’s dressed in an appropriately fancy set of gambeson and hose, clearly his armor is off to be under repairs. His one arm hangs freely, the other rests on the pommel of his sword, and he takes a brief look at his surroundings. He carries himself with purpose and a serious air which could almost take a turn for intimidating given a closer look. His face is rough with prickly stubble contrasted by a long, smooth mustache and hair combo. Between the two lies no feature of note aside from a grizzly scar running across a cloudy white, useless eye.

Sir Weaver nods towards you and your mother, then offers your father a proper bow, “My liege”

Your father smiles, and you can already tell you’re about to be stuck with this man whether you like it or not. He tells the knight to rise and after a brief exchange of greeting, Sir Weaver is sworn into your service complete with the whole ceremonial nonsense.

You rise and come forward, standing just a few steps above him on the throne platform. He hands you his sword and kneels before you. Without the help of any prompting, you lead him through the oath phrase by phrase and at last you tap either of his shoulders with the flat of the blade. To seal it all, you extend your hand with your signet ring.

“Thank you, my lady”, he takes your hand softly and kisses your knuckle, “I am yours”

He rises and accepts back his blade while you return to your throne. Your father makes arrangements for a whole new suit of armor to be commissioned for your knight, after all, his safety is your safety, and so forth. But for once, you don’t mind the droning on of court business.

It gives you some time to hide your blush.

[sadman-morgan]

rainy night muse: the morning after

Part one can be read here!

pairing: arthur morgan x neutral!reader

summary: A tired Arthur wakes you up for an early morning errand  

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none, other than extreme fluff with one cowboy.

—

You had slept alongside each other for a few hours before a familiar rasp filled your ears, causing your eyes to flutter open.

“Darlin….Darlin...wake up.” Arthur whispered as he carefully nudged you awake. 

“Huh? I-I’m up, Is something wrong, love?” you mumbled as you tried to wipe the exhaustion from your eyes. 

“No, nothin’ at all...we gotta do somethin’ while it’s still early...follow me,” Arthur said. 

“We gotta do something? It’s still dark out.” you questioned, “What time is it?” 

Arthur picked up a small pocket watch from your bedside. “Three thirty. We gotta move, c’mon,” He said quietly. 

You shook your head in disagreement, “This better be good, Morgan,” you snapped.

Arthur chuckled. “Don’t get so short with me, it’ll be good, promise.” 

You both walked to your horse and saddled up quietly to not disturb the sleeping camp members.

As your horse trotted away, you rested your hands on Arthur’s waist to avoid falling off. He flinched in surprise of your warm touch. 

Riding this early in the morning was always serene. The air was chilly, surrounding grass still drenched from last evening’s pouring rain. Noises of critters and the occasional passing rider were music to you and Arthur’s ears. 

After an hour of riding, your horse came to a halt.

Arthur hopped off the horse first, then reached out his hand in assistance. 

“Close yer eyes.” he said. 

As your eyes began to close, Arthur held your hand with strength that you had never felt from him before. 

With your eyes still closed and your hand held tightly, Arthur led you to a nearby tree. 

“You can open ‘em now.” he said. 

Your eyes opened to warm orange and yellow tones of the rising sun, bouncing off against the calm waters of the Calumet ravine. Beautiful trees stood high in the sky. 

“Oh my god.” you silently mouthed as your eyes began to widen in astonishment. You looked over at Arthur, who was quietly watching the sunrise. 

He repeatedly glided his thumb over the corner of his mouth before glancing at you, only to quickly stare at something else in embarrassment when you looked back at him.

“It’s...It’s pretty, ain’t it? He said. 

You looked at him, then back out at the rising sun.

“It’s so gorgeous, Arthur,” you said. 

Standing no more than six inches apart, you slowly brushed your fingers across his calloused hand, to which he flinched. 

“Are you okay? Did I do somethin wrong?” 

“I’m...real sorry, ain’t been touched like that in a long while. Y’didn’t do nothin wrong. I’m sorry-” he stuttered. 

You pulled your hand away, letting it rest at your side. 

A cold, awkward silence filled the early morning air.

“Can I...can I hold your hand?” he asked. 

“You don’t really gotta ask me.”

“Didn’t wanna do nothin outta line,” he said. 

You smiled softly and nodded,  “yes. You may hold my hand” 

When he was given the green light, your fingers lovingly interlocked. You both stood in silence for a moment to admire the sunrise. Once your fingers unlocked, he cautiously swung his arm around you, pulling you in close to his side.

“I wish this moment could last forever. It’s so gorgeous here,” You murmured.

“Me too, y/n,” he said. 

Once you separated from his side, there was another calming silence. 

“Hold on a moment,” Arthur said as he dug through his satchel, in search of his journal. 

“Do...Do you like ‘em?” He asked.

“Hmm? What are you talk-” 

“My...my drawings, do you like them? Always knew you peeked at ‘em, never bothered me too much.” he said.

“Aw, shit. Not as sly as I thought I was, huh?” you laughed.

“Unfortunately not, darlin.” he laughed in reply.

“I’m flattered you like them, never been comfortable with anyone else seeing them.”

“That’s real kind of you to say, Morgan,” you said.

“y/n...can...can I draw you?” he questioned.

“Right now?” you replied. 

He nodded. “Sorry if It’s too early, just think you look stunnin...” his voice trailed off.

“...Just want something to remind me of how happy you make me feel,”

“Sure. I don’t see any harm,” you said with a shy smile.

“Alright...stand over there and look pretty. Though for you, that won’t be any trouble,” he said while pointing off close to the ledge.

When you stood as directed and struck a pose, Arthur began to draw. He lovingly glanced at you, and back in his journal. He almost looked childlike with the excitement in his eyes. This was the first time he ever formally asked if he could draw you. He wanted to make sure it was special. 

You stood for a couple of minutes as he continued to scribble to his heart’s content. 

“You’re free to move around, I’ve just finished..” he said. 

You walked towards him as he placed his journal in your hands, waiting for your approval. 

Your fingers grazed across the page. 

“This is...so gorgeous, thank you,” you said with a smile. 

“I have something else, cmere” he said.

Arthur walked to a nearby tree and sat down. You followed and sat down next to him. 

Arthur pulled out his satchel and dug inside, pulling out a few cans, and other items. 

“Sorry I don’t have too much,” he sighed. 

“Don’t worry, it’s alright. No problem for me,” you said. 

You both shared and quietly ate the few items from his satchel, your hunger failing to subside. 

You laid back against the tree, raising your hand to cover a yawn. 

“I’ve been thinking. About last night, I’m real sorry about possibly being aggravating. I just could not get to sleep.” you said. 

“I remember you talking to me, but I don’t remember too much after that, must’ve finally nodded off.” 

Arthur shook his head and smiled. “Didn’t do me no harm.”

Arthur had remembered everything.

Arthur remembered your restlessness, your soft whimpers as you tossed and turned, desperately trying to get comfortable with him. He fought against gravity pulling down on his eyelids for hours. He refused to fall asleep until you did. Listening to you crying in pain broke his heart. As his eyelids started to close, you kicked deep into his side, causing him to groan. 

He wanted you to get some sleep, and felt guilty that you were up so late. Before his eyes finally closed, he gently rolled you onto your stomach. 

“I’m gonna take real good care of ya~” he mumbled.

When you nodded in acceptance, Arthur pressed his hands to your back, gently rubbing in small, soothing circles. Tingles rushed down your spine as his hand rose to idly play with your hair. 

His attention returned to your back and shoulders, slowly pressing against your sore muscles to signal the incoming additional pressure. 

You quietly groaned as he began to work out your knotted muscles. After a few minutes, he slowed down to admire you. His hard, loving efforts were beginning to show results. Your breathing slowed from underneath him as you began to relax. He continued for a moment before you finally fell back asleep.

He snapped out of his train of thought regarding the night before and glanced over at you beginning to shiver, arms crossed to retain any body heat that may remain. 

‘It’s getting a lil chilly..aint it?” You spoke through your chattering teeth.

Arthur nodded his head and brushed his shoulder, “A little.”

You continued to shiver. Arthur raised his hand, covering his mouth as he let out a yawn. Arthur sat still for a second before removing his arms from his leather jacket, tossing it over to the side. 

“Arthur? What are you-”

“C’mere, don’t want chu freezing out here,” he mumbled. 

You scooched in between his legs, nuzzling your head deep against his chest. 

Arthur wrapped an arm around you. While holding you tightly, he used his free hand to drape his jacket over you both. 

“Jacket won’t keep ya the warmest in the world, but my love fer you sure will,” he mumbled into your ear. 

You felt both your face and heart begin to overheat with love. Your heart could pop out of your chest if Arthur continued to spoil you like this. 

You pushed an ear against his chest and listened to the rhythmic pounding of his golden heart.

Arthur raised a hand from underneath the jacket, repeatedly gliding it through your hair with great care.

“You’re so gorgeous...don’t think I tell you that enough,” he said.

You wanted to cry into his chest. What could you have possibly done to deserve this pure soul, Arthur Morgan, in your life? You had never felt this loved, this appreciated, this safe from anyone before. 

You slowly rose from his chest and turned to face him, moving closer into his lap.

Now straddling him, you gazed straight into his vulnerable, tired eyes. 

He inhaled as you looked each other deep in the eyes. 

You raised a hand and gently traced his jawline with your finger tips, his stubble scratching against your skin. 

Pausing at his chin, you gently dragged your thumb across his bottom lip as his eyes followed your every movement. 

You continued to trace his jawline. As you reached the other end of his face, your hand slowly trailed across his face, admiring his stubble. 

You placed your free hand down at his side and leaned in, pestering him again with eye contact. 

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

Arthur nodded and pulled you closer towards him, lips beginning to lovingly lock together.

You kissed deeply for a moment before your lips wandered to give his jawline and neck the same affection. 

You finally pulled away and gazed back up at him. 

He chuckled and shook his head, “y’dont really gotta ask me,”

You leaned in to give him a final quick smooch on the lips.

“A handsome man always asks me before he shows me affection, just returning the favor.” 

“Didn’t wanna do nothin outta line,” you said.

---

an: Hope you guys like this. I also take writing requests! My inbox is always open.

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out at Night *Chapter 8 Update*

Summary: Desdemona has a nightmare that sends her spiraling into the arms of her beloved mistresses but when she's turned away, she realizes that nightmare was a warning of what was to come. An unexpected family reunion finally makes Desdemona beg for death. A/N:  Thank you to everyone who stuck it out with this story this far; I know the last chapter wasn't too exciting but as I played the Resident Evil remake on my switch, I was inspired to drum up a little more excitement with this chapter and the next few chapters to come, which will be the last!

There’s a long, dark corridor that is accompanied by the acquainted sound of silence outside of Desdemona’s door and the darkness seeping into the room is becoming too much to bear. It feels like she is dreaming but these days, her nightmares and her reality have blended in so well together that it’s become nearly indistinguishable to tell apart what’s actually happening to what she could be imagining. It’s terrifying. She shouldn’t have become accustomed to what she’s gotten comfortable around lately, especially with everything that’s happened ever since she had been taken to Lady Alcina’s castle. Desdemona feels the familiar hunger for company creep up on her as she sits against the wall on her bed with her legs crossed, a journal and pen in hand. Loneliness was something she was used to, something she begged for when socializing drained her of her energy but now it was like a stranger to her. She no longer liked the idea of being alone in this gigantic castle that was made for its vampiric inhabitants and the monstrosities that lingered every which way. The connection she unintentionally formed with Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela and was ultimately made stronger through their unusual ways of showing affection is suddenly severed and she can no longer sense them nearby. This was very troubling. Although she wasn’t feeling very well, a wave of nausea causing her to lose consciousness earlier, Desdemona summoned the strength to get out of bed. This desire to be around the wretched creatures that ruined her life both shocked and comforted her, the inner conflicting thoughts in her mind constantly pulling her in one direction over the other was exhausting but rationality had no place in House Dimitrescu. Her hands shook violently as she reached for the doorknob, her knees nearly going out when she dared to take a few cautious steps outside of her room. The grand designs of the castle were dulled by the strangeness of the dim lighting of every room. This was very unusual, what was going on? Beneath her, she could hear one of the sisters scream in agony while Lady Dimitrescu rages about the deaths of her daughters. No. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t be dead, she felt them nearby just a few minutes ago! How could this be possible? Panicking at the idea of losing her mistresses, Desdemona rushes down the polished stairwells of the castle. She can’t sense them, hear them, or feel them through their bond and her heart aches at the idea of having to go on without them. When she finally reaches the ground level, she finds Alcina looming over the corpse of an unknown intruder. Desdemona has always been afraid of Lady Dimitrescu, but for some unknown reason, she felt compelled to comfort her despite not knowing what was going on. She carefully approaches the statuesque woman and gently tugs at her sleeve, and when Alcina turns around and looks down at Desdemona, she gives out a sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s you darling! This night has been dreadful, and I’m not certain at how you’ll take the news but let me assure you that I am so glad to see that at least you weren’t harmed in all of this. Let me show you who was responsible for the deaths of my daughters; together, you and I shall take vengeance against the human organization that was responsible for this.” Alcina declares as she wraps an arm around Desdemona, pulling her closer before turning her around to examine the corpse at their feet. Desdemona’s jaw drops at the sight of her own body laying on the floor nearly intact. Her skin was nearly flawless, save for the deep wounds inflicted upon her by Alcina. She lay there dead before her very eyes, her lifeless gray eyes reflecting a dark creature she could not recognize. Startled, Desdemona turns on her heel to find a mirror, and when she finds the nearest restroom, her hands grip the sink in front of her. She cannot recognize what she’s staring at but she knows it’s her reflection, just not what she expected at all. Instead of beautifully long flowing dark brown hair, she sees a matted mess of dark hair tangled in some sort of wild updo, cold, glowing yellow eyes and when she opens her mouth to scream at the sight, she coughs up blood. She goes into a brief coughing fit, and eventually she begins to throw up, but what comes out of her isn’t bile. Oh no, she threw up a sticky ball of insects and maggots glued to each other, the creatures clinging to each other in their frenzied movements. The sight alone is enough to wake Desdemona from her slumber. Desdemona wakes in a cold sweat, her heart hammering at the implications of what she’s become so she quickly examines herself. She runs to the nearest full body length mirror and she’s relieved that she sees herself in her nearly natural state. Bedraggled dark brown hair, terrified gray eyes and the occasional love bite and bruise left behind by the mistresses she’s bonded to. Her skin, while still tawny-brown, was starting to gray out but for the most part, she still seemed normal. What caught her attention in that moment, however, was the sound of Daniela’s laughter coming from downstairs in the dining room. Any logic and rational thought once again flees her mind as she’s comforted by the fact that her mistresses were still alive and well. That’s all that mattered to her and so she rushes out of her room to interrupt the important meeting that Bela had warned her not to interrupt. She didn’t care, she just needed to know that they were safe and sound. Without dressing up like she’s supposed to when she wanders around the castle unsupervised, she glides down the railing of the grand staircase as she follows the sound of a private conversation being had. Desdemona bursts into the living area, her heart rate picking up at the sight of Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela all casually enjoying their special blend of blood wine with a guest she wasn’t familiar with. Bela is caught off guard at the sight of Desdemona waltzing into the meeting in a revealing nightgown but is even more thrown when the smaller girl practically lunges at her and wraps her arms around her. Cassandra looks a little miffed that Desdemona decided to greet her sister first but then she sees how quickly Bela is becoming agitated with the intrusion so she steps in and tries to peel Desdemona off of her. “Oh thank god you’re alright! I had the worst nightmare that you all were killed and there was nothing I could do about it -,” Desdemona begins but is quickly shushed when a hard slap to the face reminds her that they were not alone. “Desdemona, what the hell are you talking about? Of course we’re alright but what on earth are you doing here? I instructed you to stay in your room and mind your business, did I not?” Bela asks angrily as she shoves Desdemona away from her. Cassandra steadies her and throws her sister a knowing look, nodding off to the side as if to remind her that they were in the company of Donna Beneviento. Daniela merely looks amused and continues talking to Donna and Angie as if nothing unusual was happening. It was then that Desdemona realizes that they were indeed in the middle of an important conversation with the lord Bela wished to make a partner out of in either ousting Mother Miranda or finally bringing her a suitable host to revive her daughter. Desdemona looks ashamed and stares at her clenched fists, biting her tongue as Bela continues to give her a tongue lashing. “Look at you wandering around House Dimitrescu looking like a common whore without any dignity. I could have sworn my mother and I taught you better than this but nevertheless, you owe the lovely Donna Beneviento an apology. Once this meeting is over, we will go over what is distressing you. None of your concerns are more important than what is currently being discussed, I’m sorry to say.” Bela admonishes Desdemona before she turns to offer Donna a sincere apology. Donna, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in what Bela had to say as she observed the human standing quietly before her. It was a fascinating scene unfolding before her very eyes. “Oh ho ho, look at the poor girl, she’s ready to cry. What happened, Bela? Is she no longer your favorite?” Angie, the doll, said out loud as she giggled. “Lovers tend to have spats, but you wouldn’t know much about that, would you?” Bela growls, looking as though she were ready to strangle both the doll and the ventriloquist. Donna scoffs, shaking her head before settling on an equally irritating comment. “You mistreat your toys, they’re more than welcome to stay home with me and keep me company. I can promise you I’m more pleasant than your mistresses.” Donna replies quietly, her face hidden behind her veil but even Desdemona could hear the smugness in her tone. This time, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela pitch a fuss over the unnecessary comment and find themselves squabbling over a silly matter. Angie, the doll, is delighted and laughs maniacally when the sisters begin to fight with one another. Donna was clearly amused but said nothing as she continued to watch Desdemona fret over her actions in the background. Desdemona begins to shut out the banter as the remnants of her decaying mind makes its final stand in her mind. ‘Get out…while you still can…the opportunity won’t come again. They’re distracted, their mother is away…you can go home. Get help…please leave…please do it. For your sake, for Desmond’s sake, and for Veronica’s. Run away…while you still can.’ Desdemona blinks, her rational state of mind completely taking over for a moment before it slips into nothingness again. She turns to find the doll named, Angie, staring up at her while the ventriloquist responsible for the trickery, observes her from afar. Desdemona used to be frightened of dolls, especially of the porcelain collection her mother obtained from her grandmother but when she gives Angie a once-over, she finds that she isn’t crept out at all by the appearance of the doll but is comforted by both her and Donna’s presence. It was strange but with her life constantly taking a turn for the worse every other second of her life, she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised she’s taking a liking to the friends of her mistresses as well. “I apologize for the intrusion. I had a nightmare that I’ll eventually recover from, but I hope my childish antics didn’t embarrass you further, Bela. I’ll take my leave and I won’t bother you again.” Desdemona finally says almost robotically as she makes her way back to castle entrance. She’s ready to go back to her room when something terrifying happens. Her eardrums suddenly pop, an incessant buzzing sound following the sound of brief ringing. Desdemona cannot hear anyone or anything so when she looks up to see the mouths of Cassandra and Daniela moving as if they were speaking to her, she confirms the temporary loss of hearing. Panic grips her, her anxiety on the rise when the others notice the drastic change in behavior. She starts to scream when she feels her brain begin to throb in pain, as if a knife were slowly dividing her brain in half and it sends Desdemona running. She’s gripping her head as she runs into walls, end tables, statues, and portraits; nothing seems to stop her even though she has no idea where she’s going or how she’s even leading herself anywhere with the immense amount of pain she’s in. She still hears that incessant buzzing noise in her head and it’s driving her crazy. She can’t hear the girls call out to her in worry. The only thing that she can hear is the sound of something buzzing around inside of her. She remembers that Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra are not immune to the cold air during the winter and if this is the same bug that they seem to be made out of, maybe some fresh air will do her some good and kill whatever it is that’s inside of her. She thinks it’s a great idea; her mistresses, once they see her heading outside towards the gardens and vineyard, think otherwise. “Desdemona, no, don’t do this! Don’t go where we cannot follow, please!” Cassandra cries out to her, unable to go past the point of no return. The fresh, wintry cold air brings immediate relief to Desdemona as she pushes past the doors that led to Lady Dimitrescu’s enormous vineyard. Her ears pop again, the sound of the girls screaming for her to return to the castle can finally be heard and Desdemona feels good again. She chuckles to herself, thinking she overdramatized her pain but what she had just gone through was something she had never experienced prior. It was incredibly painful and there was no other way to describe it other than it felt like her brain was melting out of nowhere, the left and right side of her brain being divided by a painful knife. She thought she was going to die. When she glances up from where she had been doubled over in pain, she finds herself wishing that she did die from whatever kind of attack that was. Yes, she’s staring a Alcina’s glorious, infamous vineyard sprawled out beautifully before her and covered in snow but what she sees staring back at her from not so far away is an eerily familiar scarecrow. Desdemona hears that incessant buzzing noise in her head again as she slowly approaches the scarecrow, her breath growing heavy. Her eyes widen in complete shock when she recognizes the clothes that the scarecrow is wearing, but it isn’t just what it’s wearing that appalls Desdemona, it’s who it is. It was Desmond. They never told Desdemona what they did with his remains. Sure, they might have mentioned drinking his blood and devouring some of his flesh but that wasn’t the case at all. Here he was, skin stitched together and his beautiful curly hair clumped on top of what has to be his skull living in the afterlife as a scarecrow. They hollowed him out, dumping out his insides completely and disposing that mess in a way Desdemona no longer wanted to think about and turned him into this! Tears prickling in her eyes, a whole new fresh wave of pain consumes her entire being. She drops down to her knees again, feeling completely defeated as she takes in the immaculate detailing of how they put his flesh back together to make this monstrosity. The only thing that was missing was his eyes; otherwise, she was looking directly at her twin reincarnated. Her fingernails are beginning to frost over, the stinging cold making her feel as if she were dipped in a frozen pond and pulled back out again. None of that mattered to her. Her heart rate was beginning to slow down, the buzzing in her head growing more and more frantic but she can’t tear her eyes away from her dead twin. Her body can no longer tolerate the cold that it used to and the longer she stayed outside, she knew her body would begin to shut down. Maybe this was finally it for Desdemona, maybe this is the way she wanted to go out and reunite with her loved ones again. She just wanted it all to end because her life no longer mattered. She sees a rather large shadow approach her from behind and she knew that it was too good to be true. She was so close yet death would continue to evade her. She struggles to turn her head, the ice buildup on her skin making it difficult to do so and finds a very displeased Alcina Dimitrescu staring down at her. “Looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and speed up your transformation, little one. Miranda is eager to find out if you’ll do or not.” With that said, Alcina raises her hand and long, sharp claws begin to form. Desdemona closes her eyes as she braces herself for death and when she feels something sharp puncture her chest, she blacks out completely. 

[hoodedlich]

A short field guide to vampire hunting

You want to start your career as a vampire or monster hunter and have no idea what you are doing? Fear not for I´ve got you covered!

Vampires are a difficult and broad topic because they are so popular. Media created a completely different “Style of vampirism” than old tales so this guide is based on my very own view on them. Combining vampires from old tales and from more or less modern media. But without further ado let´s get started!

1.How do I spot a vampire?

Well...most certainly you won´t. If it would be that easy vampires would have gone extinct by now. They look like humans most of the time. But most certainly they will have fangs and are pale (no they don´t sparkle...) from avoiding the sun for that long. Also paleness isn´t our most reliable indicator, so please  do NOT put a stake in somones heart only because they look slightly pale. 

Probably their appearance will change and their more monsterlike features will come out when they are hungry. 

It is also said that if a black rooster is set free during the night on a graveyard it will find the grave of a vampire.

2. What are their weaknesses?

The sun and fire: There is a good reason why vampires are called “The Children Of The Night”. Sunlight hurts. It´s just that they are much more prone to sunburn than we mortals are. The sunlight is like burning fire and weakens and blinds them quite a lot.

Running water and doorsteps: Vampires can´t cross running water and can´t enter a house without the residents permission. (Throw your Welcome mat away if you don´t want to attract nightly visitors)

Silver and Steel:  deadly as they are both pure metals. They will stop the vampire (werewolves too) from regenerating and can burn them. In mirrors that are made with silver vampires wont have a reflection! So modern mirrors are completely worthless to a hunter... 

Holy water and crosses: Will only be effective if your prey is a vampire of demonic nature. Otherwise please don´t pour water on them or shove a cross into their face.

Garlic: It´s more like a vampire-repellent. The smell is too strong for their sensitive noses, but it won´t do much!

Seeds: “Seeds? Why should they help against vampires?”, I hear you ask. Well Vampires are obsessed with counting. Just throw them on the ground in front of your camp and hopefully the vampire will be distracted the entire night. Alternatively a  fishing net will do the job as the vampire will try to untangle its knots.

3. What do I need to pack for my hunt?

Silver weapons:  normal ones won´t kill them as they don´t prevent the vampire from regenerating. The type of weapon depends on which era you are trying to hunt vampires in. The most popular are swords, crossbows, pistols, rifles etc. (with silver bullets or arrow tips)

Wooden stakes

First aid kit

Rations and camping/survival gear: Maybe you´ll be out in the wild for several days

Lantern

Journal and everything else you deem important

4. What to wear?

(This one is pretty much just my perfectly asthetically pleasing and completely subjective opinion...)

Light boots: practical and silent

Coat or a thick jacket: Preferably thick leather lined with fur or wool. It will protect and keep you warm in the coldest crypts. (Oh and it looks pretty dramatic don´t you think?)

Thick vest with a sturdy collar: added warmth and protection from bites.

Leather bracers and gloves: protection from bites and from getting vampire blood all over your bare hands.

Belts and bandoliers with pouches: to store all your weapons and gear

You can honestly wear anything you feel comfortable and save with (Remember to protect your arteries!)

5. To kill a vampire

Fire: burn them and scatter the ashes in multiple places

Stakes: will most likely paralyse the vampire but NOT kill them. As soon as the stake is removed they will become activ again!

Stabbing: Stab them with a silver knife or sword through the heart or head 

Shoot: Put a silver bullet in their heart or head

Decapitation

It is best to combine different methods, if possible, to maximize your success! Never just lock a vampire up in a crypt or coffin! Lack of blood will just weaken and not kill them! 

6. More things you should know

The power of a vampire isn´t always the same: They are at their strongest if they recently drank blood or if it´s near the middle of the night.

If a mirror doesn´t contain silver the vampire WILL have a reflection. 

A vampires might increases throughout the night and decreases in the hours before sunset. Therefore just after dawn and  shortly before sunset is the best time for slaying a vampire.

Not all vampires sleep during the day. If they live (see what I did there?) underground, for example in a crypt, they won´t need to be asleep to avoid the sun and may wander around during the day.

If you are on a hunt and know that your target is nearby then always keep in mind that the vampire has better senses than you!

Always sleep when the vampire is sleeping! You don´t want to be taken by surprise. 

It is the most safe and easy method to kill a vampire in their sleep. 

And always remember:  Not all vampires are evil!

After reading this guide you should be able to stay alive and be successfull during your hunt. But keep in mind that vampires are, much like humans, unpredictable and diverse. Always think twice before killing one! Maybe they      don´t have any bad intentions and just want to live in peace among mortals or are misunderstood and deemed monsters only because they seem dangerous or different at first. Never let down your guard or  disregard your humanity and I wish my dear readers and fellow hunters a successfull hunt.

*-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+------+-------+--------+-------+-------+-------*

My very own view of vampires is a mix between headcanons, folk tales and media! So yours might be a bit or even very different and that´s really cool :)       I just wrote this guide for fun and apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors (English is not my first language)! I hope you had fun reading!

And most important: No vampires were harmed in the making of this post.

[fallen-in-dreams]

Chasing A Dream

Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi. Summary:  Her mother always told her to follow her dreams. In this case, her dream happened to have silver hair, mismatched eyes, and a smile that took her breath away. And she was determined to follow him all the way, even if he decided to break her heart. KakaSaku AU. Status: Complete.

Enjoy. ^_^

.:.

Sorry I have to leave so abruptly, Daddy. I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay? I know you’re disappointed in me. I wasn’t trying to shame you. I love you. I love you both. I’ll see you soon. Tell mama I’m fine. I always know my way home. - Love, Sakura.

.

Sakura Haruno walked for half a mile to get to the service area where she knew that drivers congregated before leaving Wajima. She did her best to dress like a foreigner and not show her Roma origins—nomads (Sanka) were considered as un-Japanese as any foreigner (Gaijin). She wouldn’t win the sympathetic ride with a stranger wearing her usual bodice and scarf.

She decided on a simple shirt and her nice jeans; they fit comfortably and hugged her well. It was cold out, even in the middle of the day, so she brought a heavy coat; one that was still easy to wear with her travelling backpack.

Her goal was to hitchhike her way to Tokyo. Depending on traffic and how long it would take to get a ride, the trip would take about seven hours. It would be expensive if done with public transportation; she had to save what little money she had for those things once she actually got to her destination.

To him.

And she was unfamiliar with the more typical ways of travelling through Japan. This was her last option; she had put this off long enough. For the first time since the last time she’d seen him, she wasn’t running from her problems; rather, meeting them head on. Before her father got it into his head to ruin things with that famous temper of his. Images of silver hair and mesmerising, mismatched eyes, invaded her thoughts unbidden and she sighed deeply before looking around contemplatively.

Service areas like this all over Japan made hitchhiking that much easier. Cars, trucks, motorcycles—there was a plethora of drivers to choose from. Sakura had hitched before—her first time had been when a second cousin went into labour. The pinkette was twelve years old at the time, and her parents were nowhere to be seen, so she’d had to make her way to the hospital on her own. It was easy, safe, and fun, really.

If you were careful.

A girl on her own was an easy target for perverts and predators, but Sakura always made sure to go with families or women; she was a good judge of character, so that elderly man had been a smart choice, regardless. But she wasn’t a weakling; she knew how to handle herself. Anyone who tried something with her would get a twisted arm and a swift kick to the shins or balls. Whichever one tickled her fancy.

This place was perfect; away from the expressway and most people here were headed in the same direction.

A few minutes into her perusal, a teenage girl waved at her and Sakura waved back. She looked to be with her parents. They had a Suzuki and ample room. She approached them with her sign; it read ‘Osaka’.

Sakura put on her best friendly smile and fake accent. “Konnichiwa.”

“You going to Osaka?”

The pinkette nodded silently, remembering that while it was uncommon for Japanese people to hitchhike there were no laws against it; it was just best to appear to need help, like a foreigner rather than a local.

“You speak Japanese?”

Maybe it was her hair, but she was often treated like a foreigner no matter what she said or did; she didn’t understand it. But she always just went with it. The key was to look as harmless and friendly as possible.

“Hai.”

The girl conferred with her parents and then came running back over to Sakura and threw her arms around her. “You look like you are a good person. We can take you as far as Toyama, okay?”

“Hai.”

“Okay!”

The girl talked Sakura’s ear off the whole time, going on about her family vacation and how she loved Winter so much.

So bloody much.

But Sakura kept her smile on and upon disembarking at a service area near the Toyama train station, felt compelled to show her appreciation. She bowed deeply. “Doumo. Arigato.”

Alone again, she sighed nervously.

One ride down.

Shifting the weight of her backpack out of nervous habit, she ambled her way through the crowd of vehicles, glancing at the faces of the drivers and any passengers they might have. She was looking for the concerned face, the curious face; the honest face.

Found three.

It was a couple and their six-year-old boy, wearing matching outfits, looking like they were heading for the Alps. They accepted her quickly, saying how they didn’t want to leave her here on her own, and looking so vulnerable.

“There are some sickos these days,” the mother muttered, while the father nodded in agreement.

They seemed sane to Sakura.

“We’re going to Myoko,” the little boy said excitedly, the moment the pinkette climbed into their Subaru.

Sakura humoured him, listening to him talk about all the skiing he was going to do, and that he had to go to some boring wedding instead of the night-time Onsen. He was really cute, and she found herself feeling wistful and nervous, thinking about what awaited her at her destination. So much so that she gave in when he pestered her about where she was going. She told him almost everything...

“Sayōnara, Sakura-chan! And good luck!”

Left again at a service area, Sakura quickly got to work scoping out the people and their vehicles again. The next car she got belonged to another group of friends, middle-aged women on their way to some kind of religious retreat. She listened to their excited chatter in polite silence but was glad to be on the move again.

Next ride.

It was like riding a bike now; her instinct didn’t fail her as her eyes zeroed in on five people who looked around her age, almost twenty. They turned out to be college students on holiday and could take her all the way to Tokyo—their ultimate destination was Yokohama, where apparently, they all had family.

They were so boisterous and so energetic that it was contagious. Sakura found herself laughing for the first time in months. It made her temporarily forget her imminent problems. They were so warm, she found herself drawn to them. A loud blond guy in particular, seemed to just radiate kindness, and the banter between him and the raven-haired guy she assumed was his best friend, was the highlight of the trip.

When they made it to her drop off point, she was disappointed.

The blonde girl took her elbow and stopped her from leaving dejectedly. “You need money for the bullet train? They’re faster and will be safer this time of night.”

Sakura shook her head as they suggested giving her the money. “I couldn’t–”

“You can.”

“We insist. Go get your man!”

A wad of cash was shoved in her hands and bouts of cheers from the group followed her as she walked away, and Sakura blushed heavily. That little boy with the concerned parents had opened a floodgate and she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut! This was highly unusual behaviour. Did everyone around here give money to strangers?

That had been a particularly rowdy group of college students, she decided naively. Definitely out of the norm.

Best to just accept the money and get on the train.

Sakura waved back at them and made her way in the direction they’d indicated. Tokyo was a very odd place. There was a bus station nearby, and the train station was lit up and dazzled her. She strained her neck looking around; its services also included commercial centres for shopping, dining, and entertainment. Everything was so big and lively! She spent a few minutes just gaping like a tourist before remembering why she was here.

Sakura steeled herself and took the directions the students had given her to the correct station and line.

She bought her ticket from the vending machine and passed through the Fare Gate, rushing to get onto the locomotive. She just wanted to get this part over with. The Tokaido line would take her directly to her destination.

Sakura pulled out a piece of paper as she took her backpack off and sat down next to it in her seat. All she had was an address, and vague directions; she’d gotten it from her father’s own journals. She read it silently, committing it to memory. This was it. This was what she’d been dreading and anticipating. When she would finally see him again.

Sighing, she settled into the seat and stared out the window, her eyes taking in the beautiful landscape as the Shinkansen Bullet Train started moving. It was this kind of view that she loved most about travel. Having been a part of her family performance group her whole life, she was no stranger to moving around. Japan was truly the most hospitable and exciting country; even when they did stick to the Ura-Nihon (the backside of Japan).

And it was that lifestyle that had gotten her into her current predicament.

She remembered it like it was yesterday.

.:.

Gypsies, tramps, and thieves: dealings with those unwanted was not something most businessmen would risk. That was why just talking to Kizashi Haruno was considered on par with black market dealings. Moving things across prefecture borders via Roma who performed shows for a living supposedly came with all the mystique of illegal dealings but with none of the danger of dealing with the Yakuza.

It was the preferred choice for shady men who were too cowardly to deal with the real crime syndicate.

And Sakura was both repulsed and intrigued by her father’s dealings. Every client had their own story to tell, though, and she was a sponge for information. Every negotiation and patented deal were slightly different to the last, but they were all conducted the same; in brisk, formal manners with no-nonsense chit-chat and a back-and-forth debate that seemed redundant.

Eager to listen in, she always took the initiative to pour the tea for her father and his clients when they met in his tent. They paid her no mind as they continued to talk business—after all, what would a little girl know about the price of illegal dried meat or black-market liqueurs? She learned a lot from listening in but could only linger for so long.

Several months after her eighteenth birthday, a new business associate of her father’s caught her eye; and this man did seem to be bothered by her presence during their talks. He was so no-nonsense that Sakura imagined he’d have her standing to attention and saluting if he’d wanted to, but he also greeted her father with a smile that seemed genuine (a twinkle in his eyes) and a handshake that didn’t look designed as some macho display of dominance.

It took her breath away.

He was… different from the others. And his visits lasted longer; her father seemed to like him more and more every time they sat to talk business. And when Sakura poured the man’s tea he said, “thank-you” when none of the others would even look at her, probably thinking her some simple serving girl. When she froze in shock for a few seconds, he raised an eyebrow at her and waited for her to move away before taking a sip from his drink. When she didn’t leave the room immediately, his gaze would flicker to her curiously.

She often felt his mismatched eyes on her as she left the room. He didn’t dare to stare at her in any disrespectful way with her father in the room—he definitely wasn’t as ignorant or creepy as her father’s other clients. She had no idea why he was there because, instead of paying attention to what he was saying, she would be focused on his voice. And he would stop talking once he realised, she was listening in.

His curious looks turned into intense stares and she would give him a shy smile before exiting the tent. It was an interesting back and forth—kind of like flirting. Sakura had never flirted before, so she wasn’t sure if she was doing it right. Her father had been in talks for a few weeks in order to marry her to the son of a friend (a well-placed man in their Roma clan), so she was expected to avoid boys, sex, and the like. But Kakashi Hatake was responding to her awkward flirting, catching her eye when her father was distracted, giving her a dark, penetrating look when she was doing chores and he was passing by with Kizashi leading the way out (or in) to their encampment.

He wanted her.

And she had to admit, it felt good to be on the receiving end of his obvious need, though she considered him a gentleman, since to the casual observer, he seemed to treat her well enough; his smiles were innocent and his choice of honorifics when addressing her were appropriate for their non-relationship status. He was just a business acquaintance of her father’s and nothing more.

At least, that was what she thought. She was soon to be betrothed, after all.

But she couldn’t help imagining her life however, if Kakashi made a claim for her and took her away to live with him. She fantasised that he would save her from her boring life; she loved her family, but Sakura craved more. She had no idea what his life was like, but she wanted it. The sexual tension between them would not go away; a sense of both trepidation and anticipation filled her being. Sakura knew it would be frowned upon, that her father would rage, but she wanted him too.

Didn’t men usually make the first move in these situations? She’d heard they did.

Maybe he was just biding his time?

On what was apparently his last dealing with her father, Kakashi found himself in a pickle; his ride home had abandoned him, and her father insisted on letting him hitch with them, as they were headed in the same direction, come morning. His mind was made up and that was the end of things. Kakashi Hatake gave a grateful smile, his eyes twinkling when they met green and Sakura blushed under his gaze, her own smile eliciting another one of his dark, penetrating stares. She could feel a heat building up inside her as he licked his lips and exhaled deeply.

“Sakura?”

Her mother’s voice snapped her out of her reverie and Sakura dutifully left to help her, with whatever she needed. It was almost dinner time.

Supper was a nightmare. Sakura rubbed her thighs together, trying to hide her obvious interest the entire time. Luckily, only Kakashi noticed.

That night, long after her parents had gone to bed, Sakura Haruno lost her virginity.

He’d come to her tent, knelt down in front of her, parted her legs, and taken his time introducing her to sex. It had lasted for hours. And he spent most of the night inside her before slinking back to his own tent after she’d fallen asleep. When she woke, the only proof he’d been there were the indent from his head on one of her pillows, the foreign soreness between her legs, and the smell of sex that still lingered in the air.

She was profoundly disappointed.

And he’d seemed to have gotten what he wanted, acting normally on the rest of their trip, giving only a minute longing glance in her direction to show her she hadn’t imagined it before leaving their caravan behind.

“He’s such a nice man,” her mother said, watching him go. “And so handsome,” she added, fanning herself. “We should have him over more often.”

Sakura swallowed back a sob and forced herself to pretend everything was all right, so she could go back to her normal, boring life. But three months later, a discovery upended her life, and everything changed.

 .:.

“Forty-Six, forty-seven...” Sakura counted off the numbers as she made her way through the hallway. Kakashi Hatake lived in a luxury high-rise building with a view of the waterfront as well as a park. She wondered idly how many of his illicit dealings paid for this place. He had to be no normal smuggler to afford a place like this; it was far out of her reach, even if she were to drain her father of the combined intake from his clients.

She stopped at the correct number and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

This is it.

Yep. All she had to do was ring that bell and wait.

And wait impatiently.

Is he even home?

She’d heard the bell ring through the apartment from her position but there was no other noise inside.

The passing maid gave her a strange look, adding more to Sakura’s embarrassment; reminding her she wasn’t dressed to match the décor. She sighed, undid the buckles on her backpack and slid down the door to sit to wait for him to turn up. It wasn’t the middle of the night—just barely ten o’clock—so surely, he wasn’t fast asleep yet?

Speaking of sleeping; Sakura drifted off so quickly she didn’t remember falling asleep when a hand was gently shaking her awake. It seemed all her worry had exhausted her more than she’d realised.

“Sakura?”

That familiar voice had her freezing instantaneously, then slowly looking up into the mismatched eyes of her lover. That thought made her blush, but she fought it down. He knew better than to ask if her father was aware, she’d camped out in front of Kakashi’s door; what they had, what they’d shared, no-one else could know.

The energy between them shifted; it had always been electric.

As he stared at Sakura, Kakashi couldn’t help but think that everything was about to change.

He sighed, rubbed his left eye tiredly, and helped the girl up, off the floor. She was exactly as he remembered, except that she wore normal clothes instead of the bodice that had flared at her breasts, giving him an ample view of her goods. He smirked inwardly, remembering rubbing his hands over those very supple goods not three months ago.

Was that why she was here? He was confused. He cleared his throat.

“Do come in.” He unlocked the door and swung it open to let Sakura into his apartment, taking note of her sudden and obvious nerves, not to mention that she had a death grip on her backpack. “Please take your shoes off. The maids here are vicious if they catch even a whiff of the outside on these hardwood floors.”

Sakura nodded and looked around for a shoe rack.

“Here.”

Kakashi led her off to the side to place her things.

“Do you want some tea?” He might as well play the good host, considering her father had always been gracious to him.

“N-no.” Uh... “Yes,” she amended after shivering.

“What kind?”

“Hot.”

He didn’t bother pointing out to her that tea came in hundreds of flavours and was always “hot”. Well, all the tea he’d bother drinking, anyway. He busied himself in the kitchen, instead. “Make yourself at home!”

Sakura carefully placed her shoes on the rack and shrugged off her coat. Her hand went to her stomach and she felt mild panic; this was why she was here, but it was terrifying. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of Kakashi moving about in his kitchen, preparing their tea.

I can do this.

Gingerly, she made her way into the kitchen, too nervous to take in the large and gorgeous apartment he owned. It had never occurred to her that he wasn’t single… but now the question tormented her brain. The idea that she’d slept with someone’s spouse, that she had trekked across the country to see him and was laying her pregnancy problems on someone who was spoken for… she suddenly felt cheap.

Sakura stopped a foot from the kitchen and glanced back at the living room, eyes darting about and looking for clues of a girlfriend or wife. There were none. But she wasn’t going to stop panicking until she knew for sure. Taking a deep breath, she entered the kitchen, laid her coat on one of the kitchen stools, her eyes on the back of Kakashi’s head as he whistled along with the kettle.

When he turned to face her, she felt her insides squirm in nervous anticipation; but the kitchen island bench was high enough to hide her small protruding belly. He smiled that award-winning smile.

“I’ll just be a minute, you can wait in the serving room if you want, then we can talk about what brought you to my humble abode, yeah?”

She wasn’t sure how to interpret that hopeful look on his face, but she nodded, waiting for him to turn back to the tea before slipping out into the other room like he suggested.

Oh gods.

Her nerves had just skyrocketed.

Sakura studied the pictures on the opposite wall to the tatami mat, entwining her fingers as she attempted to simmer her nerves. None of the people in the photos looked like his “other half” so to speak; there were people in business suits and an elderly couple in several that looked like Kakashi’s parents. The one that stood out was a photo of Kakashi and two others—a guy and girl, but the way those two were holding each other, she figured she didn’t have anything to worry about.

I hope.

She spun around quickly as Kakashi entered the serving room, like she’d been caught reading his dirty magazines or something. He wasn’t looking directly at her as he moved to place the tea try on the low table in the centre of the room. He looked up and her breath hitched.

“Oh, you took the coat off? I turned the thermostat up, so you don’t have to keep that heavy jacket on–” He paused. “Uh, Sakura?”

His eyes fell to her stomach and widened. “W-what?”

His eyes roamed over her shirt; with the coat out of the way, he could suddenly and terrifyingly understand why she’d come all this way on her own.

“Hai, Kakashi, it’s yours,” she said, to break the silence.

That made it easier. She was showing already, but it was mostly still just bloating; she’d deliberately worn a tighter shirt and cosy jeans to show it off. After taking off her coat, her baby bump was difficult to miss. To the casual observer, she didn’t look pregnant until she’d removed the coat.

Kakashi continued to gape at her.

“Kakashi?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, quickly recovering his speaking ability. “It’s just... a shock.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry too. But I didn’t know how else to tell you. Daddy...”

She trailed off and he understood. Kizashi was going to kill him. It didn’t matter that he needed the Hatake business right now, his daughter had been defiled and impregnated. No decent father would just let that go. And Kizashi was as decent a father as Kakashi had ever seen. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where the older man wouldn’t yell at him and call him every name under the sun for this.

He swallowed heavily.

“Where does he think you are right now?”

“Not at home.”

He chuckled humourlessly. “I suppose so. Uh,” he motioned to the tea. “Don’t want to waste my hospitality, right?”

She nodded and sat down; he ran a distracted hand through his odd hair and sighed, moving to pour her tea for her, before allowing her to pour his. They sat in silence, across from each other, avoiding eye contact and just enjoying the rich flavour of the tea he’d chosen. She wanted to ask what flavour it was but was feeling too nervous to start idle chatter. She was as nervous as he was, looking everywhere but at Kakashi as she delicately sipped at her tea. When they were both done and the silence dragged on, Sakura was beginning to worry he was going to send her on her way with little but a “I’m too old to have a kid” or some such nonsense.

She cleared her throat, her eyes lowering to her hands, sitting in her lap and twiddling like a schoolgirl. The fear and dread came rushing back when Kakashi seemingly had nothing to say and she didn’t know how to start the topic of what to do now. Her fidgety hands moved from her lap to her knees, back to her lap, and then finally to the serving table. She splayed her hands out, faced down, frowning at them.

Sakura only had to wait a few more minutes after her fidgeting stopped before the father of her unborn child finally broke the silence, causing her to look up at him, now fixated on his mismatched eyes.

“I don’t regret it,” he said slowly. “I…” He held a hand over his face in an attempt to cover his blush, but the look on her face told him he was busted. Kakashi chuckled, resting the hand on hers, instead. He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

It was her turn to blush.

“What I’m trying to say is...” He sighed. “I... don’t regret it.” He chuckled at his own expense again. “I’m not really helping, am I?”

She smiled. Sakura appreciated what he was clearly trying to say. She had him tongue tied, apparently. It was a good feeling, surprisingly. It meant she wasn’t just a notch on his belt—she wasn’t forgettable and unwanted. She cleared her throat again.

“Where do we go from here?” She asked, her voice trembling. She was scared of the answer, but also… not. It was strange.

Kakashi ran a hand through his hair—he did that when he was both nervous and unsettled, she’d noticed. Or at least, she gathered so. He wasn’t the most open person, that much was obvious.

“I–”

Whatever Kakashi was going to suggest was drowned out by a loud, abrupt serious of knocks on his front door. Whoever it was wasn’t bothering with the doorbell and sound irate and impatient.

Sakura paled immediately. Her father might’ve put two and two together, somehow… she’d told her friends where she was going. But the caravan answered to her father, so if he really wanted to squeeze information out of them...

Oh my god.

“Hatake!”

Yep, that was Kizashi Haruno’s angry voice.

Kakashi and Sakura stared mutely at each other. They both knew that the longer they took to answer it, the more hell there’d be to pay.

“Kakashi I swear, if you don’t open this damn door–”

Kakashi quickly strode over and swung the door open before Kizashi could finish that sentence.

“Daddy?” Sakura squeaked, standing up.

Her father’s eyes dropped to her protruding stomach as her hand fell to it instinctively. For a moment, it looked like the wind had been knocked out of him; then his face screwed up and he shoved his way inside, leaving Kakashi to close the door in an attempt at some kind of privacy.

Kizashi spun around and growled audibly, his eyes narrowed in on his business partner.

This was it. Sakura knew what was coming.

Kizashi Haruno was infamous for his temper, and when he was at his most angry, her father was a rambler.

His hands flailed and gesticulated as he ranted. “Kakashi, you bastard! What the hell did you think you were doing with my daughter!? She’s soon to be betrothed, not the concubine of a low life porn smuggler!”

Sakura’s eyes widened at this piece of information.

“She’s supposed to lay with her husband, not some one-off, out-dated lady’s man! She deserves better! She deserves more respect than this! To think that Mebuki thought you were a good guy. What the hell is wrong with you, Hatake? I don’t care that you’re a staunch bachelor, you will do right by my baby girl and marry her before it’s too late! And don’t you dare try to blame my little girl for your midlife boner. Take some goddamn, fucking responsibility!”

Silence met this proclamation, but the air was still rife with the tension created by Kizashi’s anger. He huffed and attempted to calm himself; he wasn’t normally a violent man, but he really wanted to punch Kakashi’s lights out. But there was no way he would stoop to that level in front of his little girl. He would deal with that urge later.

Kakashi, for his part, looked thoroughly shamed. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair (again), and nodded toward his future father in law.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s heart was racing. When the hell had this escalated to marriage? The logical part of her brain knew she could no longer marry that son of a friend within their Roma clan, but to marry Kakashi… Well, it wasn’t a horrible idea. But her brain had yet to plan ahead that far, so she was gobsmacked by her father’s insistence; not to mention Kakashi’s strangely immediate acquiescence to this demand.

“Sakura!”

“Daddy?”

Kakashi took the hint and stepped into the kitchen to give them privacy, a little too fast for Sakura’s liking.

Kizashi sighed, one hand falling to her stomach as he kissed her forehead. “What am I going to do with both of you?”

“Daddy, I—”

“It’s my fault. You felt you couldn’t talk to me. Did he… uh, take you against your—”

“No, daddy,” Sakura said, clasping his hand that was still on her stomach. “I wanted it.” She blushed as he glared up at the ceiling. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I got your letter.” He sighed as her face dropped. “I just want what’s best for you and I’ve failed you. Now you’re trapped with Mr. King of Black Market Erotica. Nothing immoral,” he assured her when she scrunched up her face in disgust. He sighed again. “Hatake! Get your arse out here!”

Kakashi did as he was told and waited until Kizashi had finished ranting at him again before seeing her father out. “I’ll be in touch for preparations,” her father said, before the door closed.

“Well, that went well,” she chuckled nervously.

They stood in silence again. It felt like she’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes. But as Sakura rubbed her stomach, and Kakashi couldn’t help but watch the motion carefully, she thought maybe that was okay. The father of her baby was no spring chicken. She smiled and he stepped over to her cautiously, placing a hand on her stomach.

Those mismatched eyes of his stared down at her and her breath caught in her throat as they twinkled, and he smiled. He was so beautiful. She suddenly couldn’t wait to see what their child would inherit from him. Sakura stood on her toes, held his face in both hands, and kissed him. He responded immediately; every inch of her body hummed, reminding her of their night together. Of their connection.

“I’ll do good by you, Sakura. I promise,” he said, once they were forced to stop in order to breathe.

And she believed him.

.:.

[fleckcmscott]

The Knot

Summary: Arthur and Y/N finally have the wedding they discussed on their sprint to City Hall.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,238

A/N: This was requested by @sweet-nothings04​. It is the fluffiest thing I have ever written. Special thanks to @ithinkimawriter​ for the support and beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The nightly routine Y/N had developed over the years was a simple one. Her barely-there foundation, neutral eye shadow, eyeliner, and light mascara would be washed away with soap and water. After changing into a nightgown, she'd brush her teeth and hair. Moisturizing cream would be dabbed on her forehead, cheeks, and chin. (A couple of thin lines had formed at the corners of her mouth, and she hoped to prevent more.) She'd crawl into bed beside Arthur, they'd talk and cuddle, then she'd kiss him good night and wait for sleep to take her. It was a relaxing end to the day that didn't require a lot of effort.

But this evening was not routine. What Patricia seemed to have planned for it put Y/N's habits to shame. Peeking into the mint green satchel she'd brought caused a grimace. It was possible the clay and honey cosmetic masks wouldn't be too bad. The toe separators and nail polish and pumice stones didn't interest her. And the floral, spray-in hair perfume was pungent. God. All this fuss prompted Y/N to pour the both of them the rest of the wine.

"This is too much for me." Y/N frowned in the bathroom mirror and examined the mud on her face. "How long do I need to keep this on?" she asked, the alcohol making her grumble.

"Ten minutes." Patricia set a timer and placed it on the sink. "And don't whine. This stuff is why no one knows I'm over fifty."

"And here I assumed it was your vibrant personality." After taking a sip from her glass, Y/N turned to the tub. There were about five inches of hot water in it, topped with pink foam that smelled like artificial roses. It reminded her of the dusty, scented candles her grandmother had kept in the bathroom, but never lit. Patricia sat on the edge, dipped her feet in and waved for Y/N to join her.

Patricia started scrubbing the ball of her foot. "Are you excited?"

Y/N made a thoughtful noise. When she and Arthur had gotten married at city hall a year ago, she hadn't needed a wedding - she'd needed to be married to him. He'd wished for one, though, and she'd promised him that. "The wedding I had before was stressful. I could go without it." A gentle smile came across her cheeks. "But I am for him." She sighed contently as she submerged her feet. "When we were filling out the invitations a month ago, he was so happy. He pasted one in his journal - he showed me the page - and put exclamation points all around it."

That wasn't all he'd done. Arthur had convinced her to practice a slow dance to one of his mood music records. It hadn't taken much effort for him to talk her into it. ("I've imagined this a lot," he'd told her.) She figured she'd gotten pretty good, having learned to let him lead her instead of trying to anticipate his steps. His generous encouragements and the pleasure in his eyes had helped.

Snorting, Patricia grabbed a nearby smoother and began working on her heel. "How did a hard-ass like you end up with a sweet man like him?"

"He thinks I'm sweet." Y/N shook her head, splashing around with her toes. "Don't tell him he's been had."

At the buzzing of the timer, Y/N sprung up and went to the sink. Getting the mask off was as annoying as she'd suspected. The packaging said to use a cloth, lukewarm water, and circular motions. But the clay was stubborn and didn't want to leave her face. Patricia apparently found it hilarious, laughing all the harder when Y/N looked at her with indignation. Three washrags and an empty glass of wine later, her skin was clear. Irritated, but clear.

Patricia gestured over her shoulder as she dried off. "There's a present for you in my bag. You said no gifts, but it's nothing. And I didn't want to give it to you in front of Robert and Matt tomorrow."

Intrigued, Y/N retrieved the bag from the floor and sat next to her on the tub's edge. Matt, Y/N's former boss, she could understand. But what would Patricia give her that she didn't want her own husband to see? It only took a little digging to find the box, slightly bigger than her hand, with a red ribbon around it. "You shouldn't have." She opened it and pulled out what was inside. Her best friend had given her a black, satin thong with side ties. She stared at it a moment, then burst out laughing. "It's so tiny," she exclaimed, the triangle front barely large enough to cover her palm. "I don't have the ass for this!"

Winking, Patricia nudged her upper arm. "It won't stay on long enough for Arthur to notice."

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Arthur was at a pub with a friend for the first time in his life. He'd been to comedy clubs plenty of times, and Y/N had introduced him to numerous restaurants. But his general lack of interest in drinking and absence of companionship had never made bars a desirable destination. It had been Gary's idea, though. And with his company, Arthur was part of the crowd instead of apart from it.

They were seated at a small booth near the kitchen, away from everyone. Their conversation was sparse. Despite his overall increase in comfort, Arthur still had a hard time with social situations. Granted, Y/N had told him he was steadily getting better at them. And now, with the effect of the Fuzzy Navel in his hand, he was doing all right. There had been no forced laughter (which only happened a few times a month), no bouncing of his legs, and no nail biting. He was proud of himself for that, especially given the hint of nervousness he felt.

Tomorrow was their big day. The wedding was going to be at their apartment. There would only be four guests: he'd made it clear Penny wasn't welcome, and the elderly woman Y/N had invited, Ms. McPhee, had declined with an apology and cookies, saying she was too ill to go anywhere. Dinner would be potluck style. Finally, he'd fucking have what he'd dreamed about for years. Although it was implied every time he touched Y/N, he'd get to vow, publicly, to stay with her forever. To take care of her, no matter their circumstances. To love her ceaselessly. And, he reflected, she'd promise to belong to him, too. He grinned around his cigarette as he smoked, looking into his drink, joy rushing through him at the thought.

Gary took a swig of his porter. "Are you looking forward to tomorrow?"

"Yes." Arthur answered without hesitation. "But I don't know why Y/N wanted me to spend the night out. We're already married."

"You can't sleep with the bride before the wedding. It's tradition."

Tradition. His chest tightened at that. Tradition hadn't meant anything most of this life, anything besides futile yearning. He couldn't remember if he'd been read to as a kid. Lost teeth probably ended up in the garbage. Holidays had always been too expensive to take part in, and with Penny's apathy and all the hours he'd worked, he hadn't had the energy to try. He was glad to be making up the deficit with Y/N. Still. This was an odd custom, and not really applicable to them. "But I've been sleeping with her for two years." Almost as soon as he spoke, he realized his double entendre. He brought a hand to his forehead. "Shit. Sorry, Gary."

A sly smile crossed Gary's face, but he didn't seem upset. Which made sense - filthy jokes and dirty tales often flew around the locker room at HaHa's. The shorter man reached into the breast pocket of his striped shirt, then held out a small package. "Here. I got this for you."

Curious, Arthur examined the cellophane enclosed carton. The teal box of NoDoz said it would keep him awake, was fast acting, and safe as coffee. And there was a sentence, written in a cursive font on the bottom edge: "Number 1 with Newlyweds!" Oh. Oh. He knew what they were for. Once in a while he'd come across The Honeymoon Game when flipping through channels. The tablets were often mentioned, along with comments about "being busy all night long." The burning in his cheeks only amplified his giggles as he tucked them in his pocket. "Thanks. For letting me stay over, too."

"You're welcome. It's just the sofa." Gary gave a shrug. "What time did you want to get back home?"

Arthur recalled the list of errands Y/N had helped him make. He had to stop at the flower stand near their place and get a white carnation for himself and a bunch for her. Garlic bread needed to be ordered at Marchetti's, to go with the lasagna Y/N was attempting. He wanted to give himself a good half hour to change, fix his hair, and practice saying what he'd written.

Gary agreed getting back to the apartment in the early afternoon would be fine. Arthur wasn't expecting his follow-up question. "How'd you know she was the one for you?"

Trying to hide the embarrassment behind his answer, he sipped his cocktail. "Gary, no other woman ever wanted to be with me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Gary replied. Arthur didn't move to correct him. Maybe he'd successfully hidden his prior failures from his former co-workers by simply not joining in when they all talked about women.

It took time to come up with a response. When he gave it, the words were quiet, his tone almost reverent. "She never acted like there was something wrong with me." The corner of his mouth quirked up as he tapped the ash off his cigarette. "No one else ever did that. Not even my mother." Realizing he may have insulted Gary, he backtracked quickly. "You- You were always nice."

Gary visibly brightened and waved at a waiter to order them both another round. Arthur sat back against the torn cushion of the booth, already slightly dizzy from the first one. It was going to a long, hopefully good, night.

~~~~~

The preparation for the 4:00 PM ceremony did not go as smoothly as planned. The dish Patricia brought, which she had wanted to keep a surprise, was macaroni and cheese. Y/N ran out and bought three salads from the deli so there'd be an option besides pasta. She'd made a small tear in the hem of her light blue wedding dress, one she'd picked up at a consignment shop, when she'd gotten caught on a doorway. And Arthur insisted on not seeing her in her dress beforehand, so she spent most of the time cooped up in the bathroom. She could hear Arthur's hushed tones as he paced the living room and spoke to Gary ("I'm gonna fuck up. What if I start laughing?"), and Gary trying to reassure him ("Arthur, just read it.").

But those snags were nothing compared to the issues at her first wedding. The flowers had never arrived. The cake topper had fallen, splitting the groom's head in half and breaking off the bride's arm. And, about halfway through it, she'd realized she was making a mistake. Presently, standing in front of the mirror while she fiddled with her high, split neckline and waited for Patricia to get her, she knew she hadn't erred. Doubt never entered her mind when it came to Arthur - only love, happiness, and gratitude.

When the door opened, Y/N ran her palm along the embroidered lace of the dress's bodice, smoothed the chiffon of the full-length, A-Line skirt, pulled at the wrists of the long, translucent sleeves, and took a deep breath. Her heart quickened when the faint notes of Arthur's favorite, sentimental Jackie Gleason Orchestra LP reached her ears. She stepped out. All the furniture had been pushed up against the walls, leaving space in the middle of the room. Their four friends stood there expectantly. Then she looked at Arthur, and the excitement she'd told Patricia she felt for him suddenly became her own.

He'd slicked back his hair, the way he always did when he was trying to be formal, curls loose around his ears. The white button-up he was wearing was a tad large around the shoulders. But the likely second-hand black vest and trousers he wore fit perfectly. The carnation in the waistcoat's breast pocket was a nice addition. He was wearing his red and yellow tie, still the only one he owned, in spite of it being part of his Carnival outfit.  As she approached him steadily, she studied his face. The affection in his soft expression caused her breath to hitch, as did the drawing together of his dark brow as he admired her. She giggled, hoping he liked the nontraditional dress.

There was no need for the question, however. As soon as their hands met, he clutched hers and smiled. The autumn sun, which was already halfway down the sky, brought out the deep chestnut undertones of his brown waves. And the clear green of his irises glistened beautifully in the bright light. If it would have been acceptable, she would have kissed him on the spot. Instead, she settled for mouthing, "You're gorgeous." The blush that resulted, the way he lowered his head as he grinned happily, and his silent, "You, too," made her stomach flutter.

Listening to what the yellow-pages officiant said was nigh impossible. And from the expression on Arthur's face, he couldn't concentrate, either. But they managed to get through the basic vows, those same, time-honored words spoken at nearly every wedding she'd attended. (Except for "worshiping" and "obeying" - she'd insisted those parts be removed, explaining they were equals.) They'd each come up with their own short pieces, too, and at his insistence, she went first. "I didn't come to Gotham to find love. I just wanted to leave everything behind. Then I met you. You made getting remarried the easier decision I've ever made."

What Arthur said in return, reading softly but clearly from a worn piece of paper, had her beat. "People think I'm weird. But you don't." His Adam's apple bobbed and a slight tremor entered his voice. "You're my one and only person that can understand me." His rasp turned into a hiccup at the end, and he sniffled and scoffed while he tucked his notes away. The clench of her throat was immediate, and she threw her arms around him, not waiting for the words "you may kiss the bride" before joining their lips.

~~~~~~

​​​A wedding day was supposed to be special. Out of the ordinary. Exceptional. Anything but regular. But Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had felt normal for as many hours in a row as he did today. The flash of a pocket-camera when he'd cupped Y/N's face and kissed her after she'd lunged at him. Their short dance, with the shallow dip they'd practiced and her stepping on his foot only once or twice. The gentle "I love you" he'd murmured against her lips. The acceptance of her friends when they congratulated them both. All of these extraordinary moments coalesced into a warm, tender, soothing ache that, in spite of his doubts, confirmed he was a real person, worthy and capable of love.

The glass door opened behind him, and, expecting Y/N to drag him back inside, he flicked his cigarette away. But upon turning he saw Patricia, drink in her hand. They'd spoken briefly a few times since initially meeting a couple years ago. Arthur didn't yet have a clear impression of her. Y/N and she were close, he knew, and they often met for lunch. And Patricia had helped her try to stop the Wayne Foundation case from going forward. Observing the older woman, he noted the gray scattered throughout her hair, the lines on her face that were less prominent than his own, the minimal rouge on her cheeks. She reminded him of Penny before her health had declined. Before everything had changed.

"Could I have a cigarette?" she asked, indicating the pack he was holding.

He blinked at her. "Sure."

She stepped to him as he retrieved one for her. After she plucked it from him and placed it between her lips, she took his lighter. "Y/N doesn't know. Keep it that way. You may not have picked up on it yet, but she can be bossy."

Chuckling, he cocked his head. Y/N had warned him about her bossiness early on, but it wasn't as bad as she'd claimed. Sure, she was assertive about certain things. But smoking was the only thing she was overly pushy about. The reason for her nagging prevented it from being more than a minor annoyance, though: she wanted them to spend a hundred years together, she'd said, instead of him dying prematurely of lung cancer. Blunt to a fault, as usual, with an inkling of sweetness underneath.

"Y/N was crazy about you from the start," Patricia said, pulling him out of his musings.

A glow blossomed in his chest and he dropped his gaze bashfully. "She talked about me?"

She smirked up at him, as if she was about to reveal a secret. "She gave me a note with hearts and exclamation points on it after you slept together."

Eyes widening, he turned back towards the street and focused on a manhole cover. It shouldn't have surprised him - he'd spoken with Gary about Y/N - but it did. And meant the world to him. But he was beginning to wonder what else she'd disclosed. Christ, was Patricia aware he'd been inexperienced? Had Y/N said he'd done a good job? Had she...Could she have talked about his body, the way the men at HaHa's described the women they were seeing? Those notions were laughable, he tried to tell himself, and attempted to push through them amid his growing discomfort.

Patricia gave his forearm a maternal pat, allaying his unease. "It was because you were gentle with her." He watched her angle her body towards the window and peer inside, and he followed her gaze. Y/N was pointing at a spot in the living room for the folding table they'd rented, along with six chairs. "She's gritty - she's been through a lot. I'm glad she has you to let go with."

Nodding slowly, Arthur understood. He was a good partner, a good husband to Y/N. And it wasn't only the woman he loved more than his own life saying it - it was her closest friend, her confidante. Intermittently, his conditions made it difficult, particularly on those days when he needed repeated validation, or the fury he carried deep within him threatened to bubble up. (Though it had gotten better with treatment, the stability his life now had, and Y/N's support.) Patricia recognized that he was trying and believed he was doing well. Accomplishment wasn't a sensation he often experienced, but the foreign sensation creeping into him must have been it. "Thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "I love her a lot, too."

They went inside and put up the chairs and set the table. There wasn't a table cloth, but Y/N had taken out their "good plates," with gold filigree on the rims. One of their cotton napkins went missing, so Y/N put a paper towel under her cutlery. After he lit the two cream taper candles he'd found in a drawer, everything looked perfect.

The food and drink were something else. The only macaroni and cheese Arthur had ever had come out of a box. Patricia's tasted savory rather than salty, but he wasn't sure if he liked the tomatoes it had in it. Although the pasta was too soft, Y/N's lasagna was good, if a bit heavy on the sauce. The garlic bread helped with that. The salad was mostly ignored; he only ate the small serving she stuck on his plate. The scotch Gary brought was passed between himself, Matt, and Robert. Arthur did try a sip, but it was exceedingly strong and stole his breath. He decided to stick with wine.

As the evening went on, Arthur grew pleasantly warm and drowsy. Y/N and Patricia had taken over most of the banter, guffawing and being mildly foolish. Matt had brought a chocolate sheet cake for twenty-four instead of six, and Y/N had to hold her stomach to quiet her tipsy laughter when it was sliced. Arthur's hand crept to her thigh and squeezed lovingly, his eyes locked on her with adoration. The depth of his feelings, his keen awareness of her, her presence at his side, was drowning out the rest of the room. It didn't take long for her to turn to him and mouth, "Let's say good night."

Y/N sent everyone home with leftovers and a hug, and forced Matt to take most of the cake with him. Gary gave Arthur a wink and a nod as he left, and Arthur snorted as he shook his head and shut the door. Propping himself against it, he sighed, trying to clear the fuzziness from his head. She came up behind him and kissed his shoulder. "Patricia's going to have the photos developed in triplicate and give us the negatives."

He twisted to face her and put his arm around her shoulders, slightly dizzy. "Does that mean we'll get copies?"

Giggling, she pressed into him and nuzzled his cheek. "Yes. We'll get three copies." She looked up at him as she leaned back. The ardor in her gaze made his pulse skip a beat. Then she lead him to the bedroom without preamble, blowing out the candles on the way.

He'd read and seen enough to recognize what was expected of him. This was their wedding night. It was when the music would swell and the screen dissolved to black in the old movies he would watch. He was supposed to take charge and make love to her. And he wanted to. Truly. But he'd eaten more than he usually did in two days. That combined with only having slept a couple of hours the previous night, anticipation having kept him awake on Gary's couch, lead to the tiredness he now felt.

Her hands were everywhere, though, roaming his back as their mouths melded together. Arthur slid his tongue between her lips, and he could taste the wine they'd toasted with and spent the rest of the night drinking. Breathing raggedly, he swallowed her moan and held the nape of her neck. When she presented her back to him, he paused before caressing the lace on the back panels of her dress. He took the dainty zipper between his thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled it down. The intimacy of what was happening, of Arthur Fleck unfastening the dress of his bride, made him shudder. Once the bodice was completely undone, he pushed his forehead to her and kissed the soft skin at the top of her back.

The dress fell slowly, catching on her breasts and hips as she brought it down. When she turned to him, his brows lifted. She was wearing the smallest pair of black panties he had ever seen. They barely covered her sex. He huffed. "Where did these come from?"

A grin broke out across her cheeks. "Patricia was convinced you'd love them."

Smirking, he gave a little nod. "I do." They were tied at her waist. If he just pulled the string, she'd be revealed to him. "You're so pretty." His fingers teased a bow, trying to will himself to perform. But he wasn't feeling it. "Um." He chuckled sadly, knowing he was about to disappoint her. "I ate too much. And I think I'm drunk. I'm sorry." He winced and looked away from her.

Y/N stared at him, then laughed throatily and squeezed him close. "Oh, thank god. Me, too. It's been a busy day."

His grasp on her tightened. "But a good one?"

"A wonderful one." She pecked his mouth and moved towards the bed, not bothering to take off her bra before slipping beneath the blankets. "You can untie me in the morning."

As Arthur undressed, he folded each piece of clothing and placed it on top of the vanity. He'd take care of it whenever they got up. By the time he sat on the bed in his briefs to take off his socks, Y/N's breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm. Sleep always seemed to come easily to her. Carefully, he got in beside her and stroked her hair back. Not wanting to wake her but needing to touch her, he kissed her brow bone faintly, gliding his fingers along her cheek. Then he ran his hand down her side and teased the string on her hip, loosening the knot until he could whisper his fingertips over her without obstruction. She mumbled quietly but didn't stir.

Smiling, he breathed against her temple. "I hadn't been happy one minute of my entire fucking life before you." He sniffled and swiped at his nose, sighing contentedly. "Sometimes I am now. Like today." He rested his head next to hers on the pillow, his arm going around her waist to tuck her back against him. "Thanks, Y/N Fleck."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @ithinkimaperson​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​

[sweetestrequiems]

You Are Not Alone

Request by: @boombiotch! Thank you for the request! <3 Prompt: 45) "You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child."

Character(s): Jane Seymour / Katherine Howard (Other Queens are mentioned, but are not the focus. They come in at the end of this.)

Summary: Katherine has not been having an easy time the last few nights. A lot of her memories of her past life tend to surface as night terrors and other bouts of depression. On one certain night, Katherine sneaks on outside of the house and heads to a park to sit alone. A worried Jane calls her after seeing her door’s been left open, and heads over to the park to comfort the young queen.

TW: Mentions of Nightmares/Night Terrors. Mentions of Howard’s beheading. Mentions of Seymour’s death, and the loss of her son. There’s like... a few instances of strong/mature language.

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! This was very fun from my brain to the keyboard of my laptop. I love the mother/daughter dynamic that the Queendom has created between Howard and Seymour, and I’m very happy I was finally given the opportunity to write it. The German in this was checked by my German friend, and he made sure it was accurate. I double-checked the one Spanish phrase myself, since I speak Spanish. Everything should be accurate in terms of other languages.

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Most nights, the Tudor house was extremely quiet, with the exception of the occasional grunt of frustration from Catherine Parr’s nightly habit of staying up and writing until she got angry that she couldn’t deal with it anymore, or Katherine Howard knocking at one of the doors of the queens due to a nightmare.

This was not one of those nights.

Katherine Howard had found herself sliding into the hoodie she stole from her cousin, before pocketing her phone and silently trying to step through the house. It was a good thing she was both small and quiet. Grabbing one of the sets of keys that probably belonged to Catherine of Aragon (due to the cross keychain.), the brunette opened up and closed the front door after having paced to it, making sure to not leave evidence that she had gone outside for a nightly stroll.

Yes, a nightly stroll at 2:30 am. That totally wasn’t weird to begin with.

Pocketing the keys, Katherine let out a heavy exhale. “I don’t get it. What have I been doing wrong? I’ve been journaling, going to therapy as recommended... I really don’t understand.” The youngest queen shook her head as she walked on down the sidewalk. It was a quiet night outside, not much bustle in the street. As weird as it was, she did enjoy the city sounds. The quiet was a little odd, but she wasn’t going to complain. There were very few nights where she needed quiet, and this was one of those said nights. “I guess this is better than waking up from seeing that scaffold...”

478 years since she last stood at the Tower of London’s grounds. 478 years since she shook from the horrid anxiety and waiting of the ax. 478 years since she had lived such a morbid pain. But every subsequent night after she had woken up in the new body was nothing but a nightmare about her beheading.

The scar on her neck, which was covered by the hoodie, started to burn a little.

Clutching onto her chest for a moment, the young queen paused her walk to look around. Very few people seemed to be up this late. Even better for her. It was a luxury to Howard that she had a small, local park so close to her. Taking a deep breath, she started up her walk again, just to find herself sitting down ten minutes later. A bit of a walk for fifteen minutes, but she was not going to complain when she could have just her own alone time. Although, alone time–– with her thoughts going back constantly to her childhood and untimely death in the mid 1500′s–– was not going to help her at all.

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Jane Seymour had gotten out of bed by the time Katherine was maybe ten minutes into her walk. Originally, she was going to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and then return to bed. But the silence of the house was really bothering her, until she heard an angry Catherine Parr groan in utter frustration, “God damn it, Cathy!” towards herself. Raising her eyebrows, she figured that nothing was to be worried about. But a blink of the eye later, and a certain glimmer caught the woman’s eye. 

“Kitty?”

The door to Howard’s room was ajar, which was out of character for the queen in pink. Instead of going to the kitchen, the blonde queen approached the door, and knocked on it, for the door to only open up into the room. The fairy lights were still on and everything, but the bed was empty, and the choker with a K was on the nightstand. This was probably the only time Jane Seymour had ever audibly cursed and heard herself in the silence. 

“Fuck.” And that word coming from Jane was odd to begin with.

The third queen gently closed the door, and briskly paced to her room. She had to pick up her phone and call Howard. She needed answers. 

“Please pick up, please pick up...” The muttering from Jane was heard on the other end as Katherine had taken the buzzing phone out of her pockets and brought it up to her ear after answering. “Jane?” The voice on the other end brought her comfort. “Kitty! Kitty, where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just left to take a walk. I’m in the park, just sitting on a ben––”

“Don’t move your little tail, Katherine Howard. I am on my way.”

“Jane, I’m––” The conversation was cut short. Katherine just stared at her lockscreen. A picture of her and Anne. “––okay.”

Did Jane Seymour care that she was in pajamas? Absolutely not. She just grabbed a coat from her closet and slid her shoes on. She was going to find Katherine Howard, and she was going to bring her back home. Exiting the room and grabbing her set of keys, the front door to the house opened and closed a little louder than she expected it to. The sudden noise got Catherine Parr’s attention, and forced the woman to get up from her desk.

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“Kitty? Kitty!” The blonde woman started to call out after having driven to the park, and parked nearby on the side of the street. “Kitty!” Worry was mixed into Jane’s calls for Katherine. She always walked with a purpose, but there was shaking with Jane’s steps tonight. That’s when out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bright green hoodie, and the bright pink hair to contrast it. There she was. Almost running over, and stumbling a bit when she was in front of the young queen, Seymour pulled Howard up into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Melting into the embrace, Howard just tightly returned the hug. She was glad that she could call Jane “Mum”.

Wrapping an arm around the girl, Jane held her close as the two slowly began their paces to the car. “What’s going on, Kitty? Why are you out so late?” The feeling of Katherine’s shoulders tensing up made Jane pause right in her tracks. “Katherine? Love, it’s okay. You can talk to me.”

“It’s just––” Her voice cuts off. A sniffle. “I’m tired of it, mum. I’m tired of the nightmares! I’m tired of the pain. I’m tired of seeing my beheading every other night. I’m tired of feeling my neck burn like crazy sometimes, even when we do shows! It hurts, Jane. It hurts...” Katherine turned to face Jane and bury her face into the woman’s shoulder with a tight hug. There was some shaking. The poor girl was crying.

The queen in grey couldn’t really relate, but she knew how she could. “It’s okay, love. It's okay,” she held on to Katherine as tight as possible, her own blue eyes watering up just a little. “I know the nightmares hurt. I know... they’re difficult. I have them too. I wake up sick every morning from them. Like you, I see what happened to me. I get the constant reminder I could never hold Edward in my arms.” A slight crack. Although she was a steadfast queen that sung about having a heart of stone... she cracked sometimes. Sometimes, she couldn’t have the heart of stone she so graciously sung about.

“You’re not alone, Kitty. You won’t be. I’ll take care of you.”

A sniffle, and a nod.

“Do you want to know why?”

Another nod. Katherine Howard made herself look up, with tear-filled eyes and a quivering lip.

“Because even though you’re an adult, you’re always going to be my child. You’ll always be my daughter. I will keep you safe. I will do whatever I can to make sure––” a sniffle from Jane. Katherine finally got to see the reddening cheeks, nose, and eyes of the older queen. “––you’re happy. We’re family, Katherine. You are not alone.” With a hitched breath, Jane moved a few stray hairs out of Katherine’s face and gave her a soft and tender kiss to the center of her forehead.

Safe to say, Jane Seymour just tightly held on to Katherine Howard in a very protective embrace, with silent tears flowing from her eyes.

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3:25 am.

The remaining four queens in the house were all congregated in the living room. Anne Boleyn was hugging a pillow, evident that she was definitely still sleepy. Catherine Parr was wide awake, staring at the door with her hands interlocked in front of her face. Catherine of Aragon was quietly muttering a prayer, just hoping the two would come back. Anna of Cleves, like Parr, was staring at the door and waiting for the other two to come back.

“Do you think they’re okay?” A sleepy Boleyn yawns out.

“I hope so,” both Cleves and Parr had simultaneously spoken without even planning it. The two looked at each other, grinned, nodded, and then went back to looking at the door.

“Oye! Ya, por favor. Dejen de hablar, me tienen nerviosa con sus voces,” Aragon shot them a sharp look. She was tired. “You’re going to drive me insane with the talking. I would like to hear––”

The door opens. Howard and Seymour both freeze in their places when they see the other queens waiting for them.

“Hi...” “I’m surprised most of you are awake. I say most, because of Cathy.”

Parr furrowed her eyebrows, but then shrugged it off. “Hey, let a woman write in peace.”

“Wir haben uns schon Sorgen gemacht, meine Damen! You two just upped and disappeared,” the German queen stood up, and opened up her arms. Katherine was quick to go and accept the hug. “Where did you two go, anyways? It’s unlike either of you to disappear so... quickly and suddenly. Especially you, Jane. “

“Kitty left to go to the park. I went to follow her and make sure she was okay. She just needed reassurance, is all.”

“Meine liebe, is this true? Es ist fast 4 Uhr morgens,” Cleves furrowed her eyebrows, the concern in her facial expression. The young queen just nodded.

“Jane, are you okay? You look pretty rough,” Aragon nudged Boleyn to get up, and slide over a little so the third queen could sit down. Seymour just sighed, not really sure of what to say. “It’s been a long night. One long night and––” “You don’t have to tell us twice. Like damn, Cathy went into an uproar when she saw Kitty’s room empty, and even more of an uproar when your room was empty. She would’ve raised hell had Aragon not told her to calm down,” Boleyn just held on to the pillow, yawning a few moments after the last word of that sentence.

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4:00 am.

The other queens had managed to help Jane calm Katherine down enough to go back to bed. And in fact, they were all in bed at this point, except Katherine and Jane. A knock at Jane’s door made the woman stand up and open the door.

“Can I sleep in here?”

“Come on, dearie.”

There was a good ending to that night. As Jane began to fall asleep while holding on to Katherine, she could hear the young queen’s voice mutter something out. And considering Katherine was asleep, it almost made Jane cry from the amount of love she was feeling from the girl. “I love you, mum.” Leaving one last kiss on her forehead, Jane just smiled and let her eyes close. She responded with just a few words.

“I love you too, poppet.”

[flickityfics]

Part 3 of Don't Play With Fire. A Zukka fanfic

Things A Girl Needs

Suki I've been cursed into a woman! I need your help please. I know this sounds like a joke but I've really been cursed or spelled, freaking magicked into a girl! I got clothes for my new body but they're not right? These lumps on my chest keep swinging as I move and it's so uncomfortable plus sweat underneath and it feels so gross! I lied to Katara and the gaang that I'd be helping with some construction on Kyoshi island but it's really because I don't want to face them like this. Please believe me, I have a plan just still don't know what I'm doing or how this body works and how to work around it. They're has been an incident that I'm to embarrassed to say and there's no books about women's anatomy yet plenty for the male anatomy that's unfair and makes like no sense, what's up with that? Anyways hope you can write me back as soon as you can please and thank you.

-Sokka

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Yikes Sokka that is a lot to take in but don't worry I believe you. do you think it could also be spiritual magic? Maybe you pissed off a spirit, it sounds like something you'd do. About your new breasts, you'll need a bra to hold them up and keep from moving so freely, you could also use a binder or strips of fabric but those take more time to get used to. When you go into a women's shop be sure to get measured for the right ones and buy multiples. The sweat underneath your breast are normal and at times it'll be uncomfortable but it's just something you deal with. What was the incident? I won't make fun of you. Honestly laughed out loud at how upset you were when there are no books about women, it's not that shocking at all Sokka there's hardly any books about women let alone written by women sadly but you'll see that in time. I'm kind of liking your new predicament, hah! Oh, I'll try asking around here about any type of curses like this and let you know as soon as possible.

-Suki

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Sokka was so grateful to Suki, she was the only girl he knew his age that he could truly rely on and feel safe to ask for help. Sokka was taking Suki's advice and instructions very seriously, this new body was terrifying. He was just laying in bed at night when he felt his well girl parts twitching pulsing throbbing whatever it was and freaked out running to the bathroom, it didn't feel at all like the times he had to pee. It was wet and slicky, what was worse it just happened out of nowhere so randomly as he was just trying laying in bed. he didn't touch it just clean himself uncomfortably and went back to bed trying to forget the incident. How was he supposed to tell the kyoshi warrior that? He'll just have to mention it in his next letter but for now he had to go shopping.

Sokka stood nervously in front of a woman's clothing store. He's never been in one before, never had to. What was he supposed to do? Luckily a nice lady came to him instead.

"Hi, Would you like to come in? "

All he could do was embarrassingly nod back letting the lady drag him inside like a little kid.

"All right, what are you looking for today?" She asked kindly.

"Um, a bra. I don't have any and I don't know my size." He mumbled out.

"Oh my goodness, how so? hasn't your mother ever taken you to your first bra shop? Have you never worn a bra, that's quite inappropriate miss!" The worker lady was quite shocked. There's no way this young girl should have been without proper undergarments.

Sokka gritted his teeth from the anger and sadness that quickly ran up his body. "My mother died when I was a child."

"I'm so sorry! Please forgive my loose lips, it is just unheard of for a girl your age to go wit-well you know what nevermind let's help you now." The shopkeeper felt bad for her words, she should have just kept shut and tended to the young girls needs respectfully without question.

"Thanks." Sokka was surprised by the apology most adults never do that so he offered her a kind smile taking her help.

"Okay, let's get you measurements first." The lady guided him to dressing room and he and comfortably stood as she measured him over his clothes.

"you're a 40D , so we'll bring you different types of that size to try out till you find some you're comfortable with." She informed.

"Different types?" Sokka asked worriedly.

"Yes, there's tons with different styles, designs and materials. It's quite a process you must find the one that fits you perfectly and to your liking. Finding the right bra gives you much more confidence so it's worth taking all the time you need."

"Thank you so much." He was starting to feel much more comfortable with the ladies helpful information.

The process was long and tiring for him but he found eight new bras comfortable to wear and embarrassingly feeling powerful with them now but he thought it was best not to linger on those thoughts. He is finally ready to ring up his purchases.

"Hope you found everything to your liking." She smiled to the young girl putting everything in bags and adding extra items.

"What are those?" He queried noticing the extra small packaged items.

"Ah, you get free pads and tampons with every two purchased bras." She told him unaware of the shocked look she was given.

"T-tampons and pads are..?" Sokka left open in the air for her to clarify.

"Goodness child don't tell me you still use cloth, get with the times young lady. They've invented these new one wonderful products years back." The shopkeeper just kept getting shocked by this young girl. "Do you need help with how these work?" she felt bad for the girl but was willing to do what she could for her.

"Uh, yes please if you don't mind." Sokka was mortified but he knew he may need this information. He didn't know if this body would bleed every month like other girls but it's best to be prepared.

After the awkward information and demonstration he decided to prefer the pads and would leave the tampons in his bags on touch. He was glad now he did the bra shopping first since he didn't have to be uncomfortable with his chest moving about and getting odd looks from everyone staring disgusted or pervertedly at him. Since it was still early and finding he still had plenty of money left he next went to find a library.

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The library he found was quite modest sadly, there didn't seem like he would find much here. He scanned the rows of books on spells, curses, enchantments and the spirit world that Suki mentioned in her letter. Going throughout the library was quicker than the bra shopping earlier. He found a few books I went up to the librarians desk.

"Hi, I liked to check these out." Sokka was out of the library in no time feeling a little bit dejected at not finding more references to his predicament. 'well there's still the bookstore.' he thought moving on to his next errand.

The bookstore was also very limited to his quest but at least here he was able to buy journals and writing utensils. Sokka was now left holding five shopping bags and needing a place to rest and eat, he scanned the nearby places before settling onto a place that looked promising.

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"Hello, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon."

[chaos-societies]

Episode 6, The Seven Chaos Princes’ Crowns

Fire was burning all around. It was inescapable. The distant sound of rushing water was not of comfort however. Waves flooded the scene and there were no means of staying afloat. It became impossible to breathe. The shadow of a man was letting out hearty laughs all the while.

“Past…Future… ”

The words cut through the chaotic event. They were clear and soothing, but there was an air of concern in the voice.

“The plant for creation, the plant for destruction... They’re waiting for the controllers.”

A light began shining. It wasn’t clear where it came from but it was blinding. Suddenly there was no more drowning, no more inferno.

“The servers are the seven chaos…”

…

Amy’s eyes slowly creaked open as a ray of sunlight had slipped between the closed shades of the window and landed right upon her face. She rolled out of the sun’s piercing brightness and let out an accompanying grown. “Five more minutes…” She mumbled mindlessly.

After a decent bit, Amy moseyed out from the bedroom and joined Sonic who was already in the kitchen stirring up some breakfast. “Sleep well?”

Amy let out a yawn. “Yeah…” She said without much conviction.

“Oh come on Ames, don’t lie to me. You were tossing and turning all night!” He quickly flipped the contents of the skillet before placing it back down on the stove. He moved over to the table where Amy was sitting and slid a cup of coffee in front of her. “Tell me, what’s up. More dreams?”

“Yeah…” It seems that was as much of a response she was capable of at the moment, at least until she woke up more.

The two discussed them more over breakfast. Amy told Sonic how Chuck comforted her about these dreams of hers and she made sure to remember as much as she could in case anything from them came to fruition. She even wrote some of them down and started her own dream journal. The one from the night prior for sure being noted as the new voice was surely telling some important information about ‘creation’ and ‘destruction.’

The world outside was moist after a light rain during the early morning. The sun was out but clouds occasionally obscured it and gave the air a cool brisk feel to it. The two walked around the wood surrounding the main village. The faint sound of waves mixed with the rustling of leaves in the wind. The two came across a ring of mushrooms and made sure to go around lest walk through. They discussed many things, mostly around the speculation of the recent events – Stark Ruins, the library in Cap, their run-in with the Reds from Rockbase, Chuck’s concern something menacing was afoot. They pondered what could be; evil spirits coming for vengeance, a forewarning of death. Nothing of their speculation was of the positive nature.

Meanwhile, Chuck was reading more from the Stair na Seacht at his place of study in his hut. The cool moist air battled the warmer sun as the two took turns pouring in through the window overhead. Birds were singing outside and the ambiance added peace to Chuck’s focus.

“Come ere spires…blocking…light? Blocking sun?” He looked over to another book and scanned some pages, turning them with a slow pace as he searched the text. “North the South city of trade…” He stopped reading a moment and thought aloud, “The South city of trade…”

Chuck stopped and looked out the window to see the trees. He thought of anything to avoid what he knew was inevitable if he were to find out what mysteries were starting to reveal themselves. But his concern for what may transpire outweighed his desire to keep those closest to him from venturing out in the world outside the haven of South Island. He let out a heavy sigh.

Outside, Sonic and Amy were walking back from their excursion. Knuckles and Rouge were off talking under an oak tree. Tails was sitting around with his nose deep in another book of some sorts.

As Sonic and Amy came around to the main area of the village, Chuck walked out of his hut in good timing. He looked over at Sonic with a non-verbal message that he needed to speak with him. Sonic said some words to Amy and they split as Sonic walked to join his uncle.

“Sonny boy. Enjoy your morning?”

“So far, what’s up Chuck?”

“I’ve been reading and trying to decipher the Stair na Seacht. I haven’t gotten far but there is a passage that uncovered something nearby. It doesn’t say much but something close is much more manageable than anything if it may bring more clues to what may be going on.” He explained.

“Another adventure!?” Sonic asked enthusiastically.

Chuck smiled behind his bushy mustache. “I knew you’d take pleasure in the prospects of possibly another trek into the wild. Despite my concern for your well being.”

“Uncle Chuck, you’ve done so much for us here. And you know we can keep our own. If there is anything we can do to help out your research.”

“There is.” He said quickly. He began to walk and Sonic began to follow. “There is not a lot of definitive phrasing in the book. It’s almost entirely written in riddles it seems, although I can’t tell if that’s intentional or just so old that what it tries to describe and explain was based on limited information of the world at the time.”

“What kind of riddles?” Sonic asked inquisitively.

“Some of it is plane information…mostly lore and ancient beliefs and mythos. Other parts be like directions to pieces of a puzzle that it didn’t even intend to create. It’s got me arsed if I weren’t lying.”

“So what do you need from me?”

“You and the gang, don’t you forget. Not only do I fear this involve the lot of you, you all have a tight nit that surely come in handy in a pinch. I need you to go north again, to Cap and even a bit past. I will have to owe Eiméar more for your visit a second time but–”

Sonic took the chance to make jest, “She was kind but I think we may have put up a nerve on her while we were there.”

“Oh I’ve not a doubt you did you kook.”  Chuck answered with a chuckle. He got back to the topic at hand. “The book mentions a place. I think it refers to somewhere at the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh north of Cap. If you can’t find anything, don’t mingle about as it doesn’t define a precise location. But it talks about something there, a text or message of sorts. I couldn’t determine exactly. But it was under a chapter referring to the emergence of ancient calamities with the talks of fire and flood. I think it’s relevant based on the runes you saw at Stark Ruins. Might give some extra clues, whatever it is there referring to. And…it wouldn’t hurt to investigate as it will still take some time for me to study the book further.”

“Chuck, you know we’re your guys for the job!” Sonic said with a bounce of his words.

“Ha!” Chuck laughed a bit. “Oh I know you are lad.” His cheery tone at Sonic’s response faded back to emotions of concern as his deepest fear still lingered on his mind; the world could be consumed with darkness and he wouldn’t care so long as he knew Sonic and the rest of his friends and all those in South Island were safe from harm. But he knew there was much at stake and feared it directly involved those he was trying to protect. “Go grab your crew. I’ll let you all decide on when you want to make this journey. The last one was more trying on you than I had ever hoped it to be.”

With that, Sonic departed and bolted off to join the others. Tails was the first one he told as he wouldn’t even consider going anywhere without his best friend and ‘little bro’ as he says. Next was Amy who showed a fair share of concern but also intrigue at the prospect of uncovering more of the world’s secrets. Her dreams were definitely a factor in wanting to know more as well. Knuckles acted annoyed as he would with even the simplest of requests but took the opportunity to give Sonic some slagging saying he saved them last time and they could use his help. Rouge felt similar in the sense of watching out for the group, not so much in the poking fun at them part.

They decided to give it another day or so before heading out. Knuckles took this time to go back to Angel Island. Nack and Bean made jest on how Knuckles was leaving his own chapter of Reds for the Cyans but he was used to this with how much of his time was divided between the two factions of the two Societies. Mighty and Ray were supportive and wished him luck as they knew the dangers of the Greater Area since they too helped rescue the Cyans from their not-so-friendly Rockbase brothers and sisters on their journey back from Cap the last time. Bark was silent as ever.

The time came for the group to depart and was once again sent off by Chuck and Vanilla. The rabbit innkeeper, always the mother, even prepared another care package for them.

The journey to Cap was much like their first, uneventful. A good thing too. They arrived again in the market and were lucky no one remembered their faces based on their last scuffle with the locals. They are a rambunctious crew but were smart and learned quickly. They didn’t want to draw any attention or break out any of their ‘abilities’ as Chuck put it. But that didn’t stop their gaze at the goods and merchandise. Knuckles was particularly fascinated by the hustle of the city. He was too used to the quiet life of Angel Island – the village at South Island was sometimes even too much for him. He would moan and scoff at every Mobians that bumped into him which was a lot based on his larger stature as they walked through the crowded streets.

“Psst, miss.” A voice called out. Amy stopped and turned her head. “Yes you! Lovely pink quills you got.” An older lady called. “I ‘member the days my quills were so well kept. What’s your name lass?” The lady was an old hedgehog covered in a shroud and had many chains beads and pendants hanging from silver wire adorned on her head and shoulders. She had a few gemmed rings and long hanging earrings.

“Um… Amy?”

“Amy, lovely. Short for Amelia?” Amy didn’t respond and continued to stare inquisitively. She looked back at the group who stopped and noticed Amy fell behind. They stood with similar curious looks as to why she stopped. “Ah, no matter.” The gypsy continued. “I can tell you’re special.”

Amy turned back to the older hedgehog. “What?”

“Dreams is it?” Amy was stunned. “Come now, I only wish to help.” Her words were warm and sincere. Amy turned back to Sonic and the others and raised a finger for them to wait a moment for her. She slowly but cautiously followed the gypsy back behind her booth and into a small dwelling.

Amy passed many odd trinkets and oddities as she continued back. The place had a warm earthly glow to it and plants were all around in pots on the floor and hanging from the ceiling. Not too far back, as the place was rather small, the gypsy was sitting at a table. On the table was a cloth with a delicate design and repeating patterns. On top the cloth was a hookah.

“Aye, no need to be alarmed. Tis as much I can say for an old hag pulling a stranger off the street.” The lady said as Amy took a seat. The lady grabbed a hose from the hookah and drew in a large inhale of the substance. She offered it to Amy but she kindly shook her head mostly not even knowing what the thing was. “I saw your lot walk by and must say you are a peculiar bunch.”

“How so?” Amy asked, trying to keep as many words to herself.

“Strong energy coming from the lot of you. Not only that, I remember you all brought quite a stir to these parts a few moons back.” She explained. Amy’s curious yet cautious expression was washed away with a pang of fear. “No need to fret lass. I don’t mind a good show every once in a while. Just happy to catch your lot back through here. Now, last I wish is to intrude but you’ve got something on your mind, something heavy.”

“You seem to already know.”

“So you’re plagued by some dreams. Foreboding yet shrouded in obscurity. I have something to help.”

“Why?”

“Why what lassy?” The lady said as she took another toke of the hookah before standing up and walking over to a shelf full of odd pieces.

“Why are you helping me? If it’s tokens you’re after I don’t have much and am less willing to give them to you. I need them for other things.” Amy explained.

“Ah, though that’d be normally what I’d ask for. Not this time.” She came back with a small box and opened it up to reveal a deck of cards. “On the house this time. However if you ever stroll through and wish to take a gander at me lot then I’d be happy to fulfill those wishes.”

Amy took out the deck of cards and scanned through them. They weren’t any normal cards she had seen being played by the locals in the tavern or out in the street. They each had separate pictures on them, trees, symbols, imagery. “What are they?”

“Tarot cards my dear. To help you translate the messages the world sends you.” She sat back down and grabbed the hose of the hookah except did not take a drag just yet.

Amy continued to look through the cards but then turned to the gypsy with a raised brow. “You never really answered. Why do you want to help me?”

“As I said, I sense a great deal of energy coming from your crew. I sensed it back at your last visit and that was just from watching you tussle around with the street folk. I too have dreams sometimes. And I’ve been waiting to come across you all again. I believe I was told to help you and that is all. I don’t make it a habit to quarrel with the will of the world.” Finally she took a long drag from the hookah and whisked out a heavy cloud of vapor.

“Is…is there anything else you know?” Amy placed the cards back in the small box and rested her hands on it.

“It is not my place, nor yours, to ask questions to the ether. But only receive their answers. This was all I know about you and for both our sakes it may be better that way. Now, I’m sure your friends want to know where you slipped off to ey?”

Amy arose out from the lady’s dwelling to see everyone there waiting for her.

“Ames, what was that about?” Sonic asked.

“I…don’t really know.” Amy answered as she held the box in her hand. She slipped them away in her small pack.

“Probably just some desperate merchant trying to sell her something. Don’t fall to these guys’ scams there girl.” Rouge said as they all started to walk off. Meanwhile the gypsy peered out from behind a curtain in the only window of her home and watched with curiosity as they left.

They made it back to the library and walked in. It did not take long to find Eiméar again, slaving over the task of sorting the books in the magnificent study. “Hello Miss Eiméar.”

They were now back in her living quarters once again drinking tea as she set up for their short stay. “I knew I’d see yer lot soon but I shant have expected this soon.” Eiméar said as they sat. “That coot decided to have you bother me yet eh?”

“We won’t be staying long, no longer than last time. Just two nights.” Rouge explained kindly. “And we again appreciate your hospitality.”

“Well if that old hedgehog keeps his word I won’t complain. As long as you stay out of trouble this time ‘round, that clear?”

“We’ll keep to ourselves.” Rouge answered once more.

“And you got a new lad with you this time. What’s your name?” She said to Knuckles as he stood off to the side.

“The name’s Knuckles. It’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

“Knuckles, well geez, ah could have placed a bet on that one with those sluggers of yours.” She motioned down to his fists. “Another friend or are you some bodyguard of sorts.”

Knuckles smiled and glared over at Sonic to which he just rolled his eyes in response to Knuckles’ leer. “Maybe a bit of both.” Knuckles answered through a grin.

“Aye. Well, what be it dis time?”

“Chuck wants us to look at some place north of here. Said it should be at the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh.” Sonic stated.

“The Stair na Seacht is pretty cryptic Sir Charles says. But he said there may be something there that could fill in the gaps to his studies. Maybe in a cave or a hollow. Know of anything?” Amy asked.

“That I do. There’s an old cave I’ve been told up there with old carvings on the walls. Typically an old smugglers den so best be careful if yer plan to be ‘sploring any. Could that be it?”

“Possibly!” Tails answered. “Do you know anything else about the place?”

“Afraid not. Never been meself. Just heard ‘bout it. Not too far though and quite noticeable I’ve been told, but best go in the morning before the sun is past high. They don’t call em the mountains of shade for nothing.” She looked over at Knuckles again. “And best bring your bodyguard of sorts too. It’s abandoned I hear now but ya never know.”

The morning came quickly and the group set off to see this place. They initially ventured east to hit the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh and paralleled it north. There was nothing of particular interest for a good distance. They scanned out to the west in the open area before the mountains rose out from the land like towers but also checked directly at their base in case it was hidden before the sudden cliffs.

“Look!” Tails shouted as he was flying high above the rest for a better vantage. “I think I see something!” He zoomed down to their level and dropped down stirring up a little sand as he landed. “There is an outcropping of rocks and boulders not too far from here. Looks out of place, could be what we’re looking for.”

“Great job buddy! I’ll go ahead and scout it out to see and to make sure no one is around.” Before any objection from the crew Sonic sped off in the distance. It took not even a full minute for him to return. “I think he’s right! There is a sizable opening in the rocks. Didn’t see anyone around either.” Without another word he zoomed off again. Tails quickly sped off to join him. Knuckle and Amy ran as quick as they could in the looser ground and Rouge fluttered alongside them.

They reached the structure and saw it to be exactly as Sonic loosely described, a cave with an opening big enough for the tallest of Mobians to walk right in. They made their way down the entrance. Tails dug through his small pack and grabbed a flashlight. It flicked on and they ventured down. The light wasn’t entirely necessary however as a short bit past the entrance was the darkest part. Natural light began to illuminate the burrow through openings in the ceiling.

Soon they came into a decent sized room, one slightly bigger than any of their huts back at South Island. Closer to the hallway that was the entrance was some crates covered in sand and dust. They seemed abandoned and forgotten but the group took note not to stay long in case their owners made a return.

[x]

The sight beyond that was strange and mystical but beautiful. The light from the high sun poured down through the openings and glistened along the yellow and red rocky walls. It was surprisingly moist there and small puddles were scattered on the cave floor until they grew in size where they reached a small pool at the end of the cavern. The grotto there had two large very out of place trees arising from the pool. They arose tall through a large hole in the ceiling. They were amazed they couldn’t see the trees from outside but figured they may have been shielded by other taller rocks that jut out around the place.

One tree was an ash tree, forked into two halves. Intertwined with the ash tree was a white fir that rose up strong. In the pool were some reeds as well. The fact that all these trees were found in a cave was surprising. The water there must have softened the ground to make for a strong root system and the sun shining through must have been sufficient to keep the trees alive but the less than ideal environment surely stunted their growth.

“Hey guys, there’s something along the lines of what Chuck was thinking I think over here?” Knuckles was over by the wall and pointed to some carvings and etching there.

“Ogham!” Tails shouted as he and the others moved over to investigate. Sure enough, a series of lines with hatches and marks were all over the walls of the cave. There was too much scattered around to take note of all the etchings but they examined them nonetheless.

“Surely we won’t be able to write all these inscriptions down for Sir Charles, there are just too much!” Amy pointed out.

“He told me that more than often the writing was used more to inscribe names for memorials or markers for tribes and boundaries. There are a lot of random inscriptions. I don’t want to miss anything but maybe many of these are like that.” Tails said.

“Kind of like a ‘Sonic was here’ thing?” Sonic said half joking as he scratched his finger over some of the carvings.

Tails gave a chuckle. “Probably. Let’s try and see if anything sticks out.”

“There’s something over here.” Amy called out as she was over closer to the trees. “There seems to be more structure to these. Not only that…” She signaled everyone over, “runes!” There were only a few but the symbol ᚦ was followed by the laguz ᛚ that they knew from Stark Ruins. Then again with the first, followed by cen ᚳ and above both was the symbol ᚫ.

“There’s one on the tree too.” Rouge pointed out. On the white fir was an aged engraving, hardly made out but appeared to be another rune, ᛇ.

Surrounding the runes Amy found was a long vertical line of ogham inscriptions that appeared more like text than the others which just resembled single words.

“If anything let’s write these down for Sir Charles.” Amy suggested. They did so and stayed a little while taking more looks around. They wrote down things here and there that they thought might be of interest. The sun that illuminated the grotto was now passed and little light was shining through the ceiling. They took this as time to make their leave and head back to Eiméar. It was early afternoon and with how close to the Sléibhte Scáthaigh they were, the sun was already starting to fall behind the mountains to the east.

They made it back to Cap with no trouble and divulged to Eiméar what they had found. She again told them that though she was familiar with every text in the library, she wasn’t so familiar with all their context and that Chuck would know more. She also suggested Chuck hand them some transcript to readily read runes and ogham if they were to be out doing more of Chuck’s ‘research.’ They made sure to suggest the same to Chuck once they got back.

The day had past and they settled in their own ways for their trek the next day. Tails was running about in the library picking up and reading books of interest. Rouge dragged Knuckles to the market and they promised not to cause any trouble. Sonic and Amy were talking together over tea.

“So she just…gave these to you?” Sonic asked as Amy had the tarot cards sprawled out in front of her.

“Yeah, it was…odd. She said she knew we were special. Also recognized us from our fights in the market last time. She somehow knew I was having strange dreams. I couldn’t say no to taking them especially as a gift.” She explained.

“As long as they aren’t ‘cursed’ or something.” Sonic said in his typical manner of unserious humor.

“No, I think she was sincere. I just am not entirely sure how to go about using these things. There is a placard describing each of the cards but… it’s still a bit confusing.” She was focused hard on trying to remember the cards and their descriptions and the different meanings behind them and how to read them.

Later that evening Rouge and Knuckles returned and Tails was back with a tired brain. The crew went to sleep and awoke to get ready to travel back. They gave their regard to Eiméar once again and thanked her for her hospitality. She now was surer than ever she would see them again and this time expected it to be soon.

Thankfully the journey back was much less exciting than their last trip from Cap back to South Island. They made it home with enough time for Chuck to not grow any concern. He met with them at once on what they had found.

“After last time I was concerned about setting you out again but I guess you have proven that you don’t always run into trouble.” He said with a smirk.

“I told you we were the guys for the job!” Sonic said proudly.

Chuck shook his head lightheartedly. He looked at the notes they made for him and studied them. “You said these were carved in the wall of a grotto?”

“They were. It was weird, in the middle of the barren land north of Cap, here was this little cave with two large trees growing in the rock!” Amy exclaimed.

“Two trees huh?”

“Yeah, an ash and a white fir were growing together. Some reeds too in the pond surrounding them.” Tails continued to explain.

“An ash tree, a white fir and reeds…?” Chuck seemed interested.

“Yeah. And then a BUNCH of ogham inscriptions on the wall.” Sonic spoke up. “Too much for us to write but Tails said you said most of ogham was used for names and markers so we only wrote down a few. But there was one in particular.”

Chuck cut him off. “The one by the runes?”

“That’s the one.”

“Hmm…” Chuck started stroking his mustache as he did when in deep thought. “Cen and laguz like you saw at Stark. And what seems to be thurisaz before them and ansuz above them.”

“Yeeaahhh… Sure.” Sonic said unfamiliar with the seemingly foreign language his uncle was speaking.

“There was another carved into the fir. It was faded but it should be there on the notes too.” Rouge added.

“Ihwaz.” Chuck said all the while writing down his own notes and flipping through a book in doing so. The group sat patient and with intrigue, with the exception of Knuckles who was in the corner chewing on a stalk of grass. “Interesting…” He said aloud as he continued to investigate.

It took a moment before he finished up and turned back to the group. All of their ears perked up simultaneously with interest at what he had to say. “The thurisaz is a rune meaning giants or strong ones, often in association with a conflict. Ansuz quite literally meaning ‘the gods’ and you already are familiar with cen and laguz, fire and water. So these tell me something about giants or gods of fire and water, possibly in some conflict.” He looked up at Amy as he and her were likely thinking the same thing – her dreams seemed to show some stalemate battle between the two forces. He continued, “And the ogham, seacht anord flaith coróin. Seven Chaos Prince Crown.”

“Seven chaos prince crown? I mean, I get the first half Chuck.” Sonic called out.

“There is an old legend saying the Lords of Seven each wore a crown that had a different shard of chaos bestowed upon them. I don’t know much more beyond that in terms of their significance. But these Lords were said to have immense power.” He answered.

“And the rest of the ogham? Any more hints from that old dead language?” Tails insisted on knowing more.

“Hmf,” Chuck scoffed, “dead language. It’s not just dead, and much less a language in the way we use the common tongue. It’s ancient. Found only in old text about ancient times and myths. I had forgotten entirely about it until you came across it at Stark Ruins. But you were right in that it seems the other inscriptions were nothing more than names and markers. An ‘I was here’ kind of thing.”

“Ha! I knew it.” Sonic said gleefully as he was softly elbowing Amy.

“Shh!” She shushed him so Chuck could continue.

“Why was the ogham in Stark in the common tongue then? And also the rune in the tree?” Rouge asked.

“Ah, well that is another mystery. Maybe whatever forces did that horrific deed at Stark knew who ever would stumble across it would only know the common tongue. But then again, why even make it ogham…” He said more so as a question to himself. “As for the tree, it was ihwaz or yew. Odd to label the tree as if anyone wouldn’t recognize the kind of tree it was. But the yew and even the ihwaz was a symbol in lore of death and resurrection.”

“From Chaos comes creation and creation ends with destruction.” Amy muttered.

“Yes, but creation also come from destruction.” Chuck mused. “And endless cycle of death and rebirth. You should all know this from our,” Chuck and Knuckles made brief eye contact, “from your respective ceremonies. One of the few beliefs all Societies have in common.”

“What of those crowns you mentioned?” Knuckles finally spoke up. Though stoic as he liked to be, he couldn’t help but also be intrigued by the information.

“I think there might be more to them than just ornamental pieces associated to folklore. I only know of one currently in existence and even then there is speculation on whether it is in fact one of the Lord’s crowns or just an ancient artifact from a time long passed. Last I heard it lay locked away in secret in a museum in the city of Westport, many many hundreds of miles from here.” Chuck further explained.

“If it’s locked away in secret, how do you know of this thing?” Sonic asked.

“Because I’m the one that found it.” They all froze in perplexion. “But that is a story for another time. I will need to read the Stair na Seacht more to see if this trail of crumbs is worth following. Go get a pint of gat at the tavern and rest up from your journey. I’ll let you know if I uncover anything of worth.” They all got up and moved out the door. “Amy, a word if you don’t mind dear.”

Amy looked at Sonic and he gave her a shrug. She’d join them shortly. Chuck moved over to the sink and began washing his hands. “I know you and I are both thinking similar thoughts.” He finished rinsing his hands and turned to further explain. “Whether from ancient myths or omens of future, your dreams are connected to this vast riddle we’ve been investigating and exploring. Fire and flood…” He paused, “I fear something of the sorts may come to transpire. And a human you said?” Amy nodded. “I think we need to find these ‘crowns’ before whatever man in your dreams does.”

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts - 15 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13 Part 14

“It’s really you.” You reached up, holding Hawke’s face. It felt worn and weathered as if it had been through many storms. Streaks of grey shot through his dark hair and beard that had grown longer.

“I will answer all your questions Inquisitor, but we cannot stay here. He will come back and I doubt the same tricks will work twice.” Hawke squeezed your hands before reaching for his staff and standing.

You stood up looking around seeing the pungent greens and browns of the fade, “…the Fade…”

“Yes…now come.” He held out his hand to you, “You’re not really here…but we have to find the door back to you. I’ll take you someplace safe until we can figure out where that is.”

You nodded taking his warm hand in his and followed behind him in silence. He seemed to know every path, nook, and crack to take them away. Finally, hours later when you could take the silence no more you spoke softly, “I’m so sorry…”

He stopped and looked down into your eyes. He shook his head, “Please tell me you have not held onto my memory as a burden?”

“It was an impossible choice…I would have stayed myself…” You began to tear up and fell silent when his free hand fell to your shoulder firmly.

“It was the right one. Alastair…as strong a man he is…do you really think he could have survived here?” Hawke smiled chuckling, “Sarcasm only does so much here…it had to be a mage, one who’s dealt with the fade before…and it couldn’t have been you, you held the power to close the rifts that plagued our home. It had to be me.”

“You can’t possibly be alright with it…” You asked as he turned continuing down a narrow path, “Hawke…”

“I admit…there was a time I was angry…” He nodded a little, “I gave up so much to keep you safe…My home, my life…Fenris…”

He looked at you again sighing, “Then I remember…if you hadn’t gone, I would have likely never made it back to Fenris anyways. Orlais is quite far from the Free Marches. I’m sure the world would have crumbled before I stepped foot in Ferelden. At least this way, I know he’s safe and alive.”

“…Varric…he wrote a letter…” You hung your head a little, “He wrote two actually…one to Carver and Fenris…Carver apparently responded, but Fenris…I never heard if he replied.”

“I doubt he would respond.” He kept walking as he reached back undoing a bag on his back as he stepped inside a cave of some sort. You looked around seeing how it was set up like a small home. Books lined a shelf, a fire was in the center a cauldron over it bubbling with something, nearby a cot and stool rested comfortably against the wall, “It’s not how Fenris would react. I’m sure he went out and found some of the Tevinter slavers to work out his grief.”

You watched him laugh a little setting down the bag pulling out what looked to be cheese and bread, “Hawke it’s been almost a decade…how have you survived?”

“Well…for a while it waves of demons…soon they backed off realizing I wasn’t just some helpless sleeping mage…” He looked over to you gesturing to the stool before he began slicing the bread and cheese, “I looked for a way out. There was a way in, so logically there’s a way out, haven’t been successful yet.”

“Then there are the spirits.” He looked at you, “Not always helpful, but not malicious like demons. I began visiting with them more and more. They helped me not feel alone, but it’s not the same as your own loved ones. After that it was just adapting…you begin to see things from different angles and perspectives. It’s that or you die.”

“And you were never one to quit.” You smiled a little.

“Well you’re here now, so things must be looking up.” He smirked a little bit before it faded seeing you look away quickly, “…or not…”

“I need to tell you what happened…” You met his gaze finally as he sat across from you, “Starting with…I haven’t been home in a long time…”

“Ignis! Just wait a second!” Gladio shouted at him as he rushed down the hill of debris after his friend, “You can’t just run off!”

Ignis looked around the area as the trio ran up behind him, “Look for something out of place…almost like you’re seeing double or feeling déjà vu.”

“Iggy, are you sure…” Noctis began to speak.

“Noct…” Ignis turned to him seeing his blue eyes widen as he spoke with firm authority, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect and serve you. But for Y/N…please understand that I would traverse further into any unknown…and then one step more.”

Noct took in a deep breath nodding slowly, “I understand.”

“I don’t!” Prompto looked at them all as surprised filled all their eyes, “I mean I get we need to help Y/N, I do…she’s one of us! But I don’t understand why you think you have to go alone. We need to stick together. We’re stronger together.”

Ignis looked at the young Crownsguard before he spoke, “Prompto, you still have a lot to learn, but your loyalty is commendable. I will not be here…I will need you to make sure our king is safe and well cared for. My responsibilities will be split between you and Gladio.”

“But…wouldn’t it be faster…” He frowned hanging his head as he clenched his fist tightly, “We’ve just lost so much already…”

Gladio stepped close to him put his arm around Prompto’s shoulders, “Don’t let Iggy’s lanky appearance fool you, he’s capable of doing everything we can do together all by himself. He did all the training we did and more…one day he’s going to be General to the King, Noct’s right hand.”

“Damn straight.” Noct slapped a hand on Ignis’ back looking at him with pride, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Okay…” Prompto looked at Ignis with worried eyes, “But you have to come back, you have to promise. Come back with Y/N.”

“That I can do.” Ignis offered his hand to Prompto who took it tightly, “Now…help me find the way.”

They began scouring the area looking for any abnormality. Ignis had his journal out explaining over and over how you described the doorway to hime. Evening was setting on them as he scanned the area for the thousandth time.

“Hey Iggy?” He looked over to Noct who sat on a broken desk, “I just had a thought…Y/N has been there before…you’d think she’d be able to come back quickly.”

“Yes…what’s your point?” He shut the journal looking at the young king.

“What if it’s hard for her because he body isn’t near the door?” Noct watched Ignis stand straighter as he went on, “Libertus wouldn’t have known any better, he just wanted to get her help, but she told you that people fell into this place by falling asleep. Obviously, she knows that because they woke up.”

“She has always talked about needing anchors to come back…she could have meant herself...” Ignis took off his glasses wiping a hand over his face as he looked toward the setting sun.

That’s when he saw it. Almost indistinguishable from the sun’s glare. A soft shimmer, he took a step forward, “Noct you should follow that lead.”

“I can give Cor a call now.” Noct stood up watching Ignis carefully, “Maybe we can set up a tent nearby, once we find the way.”

“You won’t need to look much further.” Ignis told him as he kept stepping forward toward the shimmer. He could hear soft voices calling toward him. Voices he’d almost forgotten, it had been so long, “Mother?”

He blinked once and as a bright light blinded him momentarily. When he opened them again his eyes adjusted slowly seeing his old home. He stood there confused trying to get his balance back. He jumped as a warm voice washed from behind him, “Ignis, we’re going to be late.”

He turned seeing his mother smiling at him his father helped her with her jacket, “Mother?”

She tilted her head a little as she stepped toward him, “Darling is something wrong?”

He leaned into her touch as she cupped his cheek. He felt himself tearing up as your voice came to him, “The Fade gives you everything you ever wanted as it sucks the very life out of you.”

“Ignis?” His father stepped up behind his mother.

Swallowing down the painful knot in his throat he took a step away from them, “I-I know you’re not real.”

“…wha…” His mother looked to his father, “Roderick…”

“We knew this might happen, Eleanor.” Roderick put his arm around her shoulder before looking at Ignis, “Son, do you remember the accident?”

Ignis shook his head, “There was no accident…I came here to look for someone…”

He stepped around them to head for the door. His mother reached out grabbing his arm with both hands, “Ignis please…you need help…”

She felt so real to him as she tried to pull him back, “You’re not real…”

“Baby please…I’m your mother…” Tears welled up in her eyes. His eyes…he had his mother’s eyes. He had almost forgotten, “You were in an accident…it confused you.”

He pulled his arm from her with difficulty only of his have his father step in his way, “Ignis, be logical…”

“Though it pains me…I am.” He looked at his father balling his fist, “You are just…just a dream.”

“…” His father stared at him for a long time before bits and pieces of the room behind him began to fade away, “You’re not going anywhere…”

“I will find Y/N,” Ignis’ eyes narrowed on Roderick, “and I will leave with her.”

The image of his father began to shift and distort into a disgusting creature with insect like arms protruding from his back as his legs hovered over the ground. The rags it wore shifted around its skeletal frame as it clicked and hissed, “Humanssss…ck…fragile thingsss their mindsss…fear would be more appropriate it me thinkssss…”

“He has heart, but he’s too keen…” He looked back to where his mother once stood seeing a naked woman with purple skin and horns. She smirked tilting her head letting the purple flame that was in place of hair trail through the air as her tail flicked like a cat ready to pounce, “we’ll try it your way next.”

Rain began to fall thickly against his face as everything darkened around him. The two hideous creatures, who he determined were demons, disappeared from view. He spun around as the rain only got worse.

He could feel his heart beating loudly in his ears. He could hear your other reminder to him. This place could show your deepest desire, your deepest fear, and everything in between. Right now, he was inside a night that he ran from for years.

He looked around trying to steady his breathing as the road became clear under his feet. The rain was bouncing of the pavement. Each drop raising the water.

He turned again seeing the lights coming towards him. Quickly, he jumped off the road in time to see Roderick glance out the window toward him. Ignis felt a sick cold weight drop into his stomach as the car rode off down the road into the darkness.

The sound of screeching tires and crunching metal echoed in the space. He felt himself tense and clench his fist tightly as he shook his head, “It’s not real…”

He turned to walk away only to find himself once again on the road.  He shook his head spinning around in the rain. Again the headlights in the distance came towards him. He stepped out of the way this time seeing his mother in the passenger seat.

He felt himself involuntarily reach for her. The same noises as before echoed around him. He put his hands to his head shaking it, “It’s not real…it’s not them…”

You watched Hawke putting things in a bag. Provisions, blankets, water… He had taken your story very well and had only asked to clarify a few things. The main one focusing on your child.

Your form here in the Fade wasn’t one that showed how far along you were. In fact, the more you were talking with him you found your clothes seemed to change into what you would wear around Skyhold. You asked him about it, he only smiled pointing out that I was the dreaming.

“We should head out. I don’t know how this would affect your unborn son.” Hawke threw the pack on before moving to his staff, “There’s a reason why mages in the circle terminate anything that resulted after fraternizations.”

“I’m aware…” You shook your head standing to your feet, “It wasn’t like I planned it…”

“No…but you of all people knew how to be careful. Especially you…” Hawke spoke quietly, “I never apologized by the way…”

“You needn’t…Cullen and I weren’t exactly being discreet that day.” You reflected to the moment he referred to.

“What is it all for then?!” Cullen shouted at you across the room, “What is all of this fighting for if not to have a family and preserve the future?”

“It’s different…when you’re a mage.” You crossed your arms trying to remain calm, “You wouldn’t understand…”

“Then help me to…” He stepped over to you putting his hands on your arms, “My darling, please…I love you…I want…I want to have a family with you.”

You looked into his eyes feeling tears come to your eyes, “It’s not possible…”

“What do you mean?” His brow crinkled in that particular way that always made you worry about him. You hated that you were the cause of it, “Y/N, what do you mean?”

“Cullen…” You sniffed looking away, “I…I won’t allow it.”

You watched as his face went blank as he took a step back, “You won’t allow it…”

“Cullen, you know what it’s like for a mage…you-you witnessed two circles and all of their cruelty.” You watched him turn away from you, “You can’t expect me want that for a child! Andraste’s grace, I was fourteen and privileged because of my nobility and I was still…”

You stopped letting your arms fall shaking your head, “I don’t need to defend my decision to you.”

“No?” He turned to you anger clear on his face, “Did you ever consider what I wanted? Ever?”

“Cullen…” You sighed shutting your eyes.

“I want children!” His voice raised as he stepped toward you, “I want to be a father so I can change the world and teach my children that magic is not to be feared if you’re willing to understand! So that what you went through at Ostwick will never happen to another mage!”

“I don’t!” You shouted back at him, “It’s not my responsibility to change the world! I’ve done enough as it is, and I will see it through, but I don’t want more!”

The creak of the door made you both look over and Hawke stared at the both of you for a long time. He apologized asking to speak with the Inquisitor. You kept seeing Cullen for a long while after that…but you knew that had been the end of the relationship.

“This Ignis…he must be something special for you to lose yourself.” Hawke smirked a little walking next to you down the path.

You looked at him and smiled, “He is, he really is. He’s understanding…strategic…and kind, so kind.”

“You, my friend, have a type.” Hawke nudged you, “Strong strategic blonde gentleman, no doubt easy on the eyes, and a smile that dazzles for days, right?”

“When he does smile, yes. And I never said he was blonde…” He laughed telling you he assumed simply because you had good taste as you chuckled a little before sighing. You missed Ignis so much, you could swear you heard him calling your name.

Hawke grabbed you by the arm taking you from your thoughts. He gently pulled you off the side pressing himself against the wall, “There’s a nightmare over there.”

“A nightmare demon?” You felt yourself grow cold, “Hawke…”

“No…just a nightmare…probably a lost soul trapped in memory…or a fabrication…” He pointed out the dark area, “It’s in the way…I’m certain your way out is on the other side of it.”

“We should help them.” You told him trying to peer over.

“Are you mad?” Hawke looked at you with furrowed brow, “Stepping into someone’s nightmare…it could shatter you. Make you forget who you are.”

“But that person is in danger!” You pointed over his shoulder, “If we can help-”

“There’s no time…I can’t focus on saving you if we’re saving them!” He snapped at you taking your arms in his hands, “You have to think of your unborn son.”

You stared into his eyes for a long time before you nodded. You hated that people kept using Ulric against you. You knew your condition…you knew your limits…and yet you always fell in line, “Fine…then what do we do?”

Hawke looked back at that black mass for a moment, “We go around and play it safe. You have to do exactly what I tell you. It’s going to bring us close to where I found you before…do you understand?”

“I do.” You nodded slowly before taking in a deep breath, “What about Ardyn?”

“One problem at a time.” Hawke sighed adjusting the pack on his shoulder, “If we’re lucky we don’t have to worry about him.”

“When have we ever been lucky?” You hissed at him as he started down the path again.

He didn’t answer you as you both moved down the path. Tension only seemed to rise with each passing hour. Your nerves felt on fire as you looked around the open area. Nothing seemed amiss as you moved a good distance away from the nightmare, but you knew better then to just relax.

…Y/N…

You stopped whipping around looking around the area as your heart thumped in your ears. You could hear Hawke behind you, “We need to keep moving…”

“Sh!” You held up your hand to get him to stay silent.

…Y/N!...

You took a step toward the nightmare swirling like a hurricane, “Did you hear that?”

“…yes…” Hawke stepped toward you, “It’s not him…it can’t be.”

You heard your name again calling out the distance, “Ignis…”

“Y/N, be reasonable. Logically think it out…” Hawke grabbed your arm, “What are the chances…”

“You don’t know him.” You looked at Hawke shaking your head, “Ignis would find a way…”

“Stop…” Hawke grabbed your arm, “We are so close to getting you home and the more we linger here, the more likely your other friend will show back up.”

Again you heard your name, it sounded like it was in so much pain, but you had to be sure, “I’m sorry Hawke…”

He called after you as you ripped your arm running full speed toward the swirling darkness. As soon as you entered the void you were jettisoned back in a memory from long ago. You shivered instantly drawing your arms close and across your chest.

You struggled walking forward through the thick snow as the blizzard only seemed to ramp up. You back in the ruins of Haven after meeting Corypheus for the first time.

You jaw chattered as the cold sunk deep into your bones, “No…nono…Ignis!”

You stopped looking around at the wind blew your hair around wildly. You didn’t hear a response…feeling dread sink into your gut you began to doubt your decision.

“Y/N!” Your spun looking in the dark toward the voice.

“Ignis!” You shouted again running, falling toward the voice, “Ignis!”

Snow mixed with rain. Terrain shifted under your feet as the nightmares began to overlap with one another. You could just make out a silhouette in the distance. You forced your self to move faster as his form became clearer with every step.

You rushed into his arms the nightmare ripple out away from the both of you. Rain and snow stopped in place swirling around as if a protective shield enclosed the both of you. He pulled away brushing your hair from your face before resting his forehead against yours.

“How…” You stared into his eyes as tears dripped down your face, “How…”

“You give very good instructions on what to look for.” He brushed them away with his thumbs, “I couldn’t let you stay here.”

“Ignis…” You shook your head until he took your face in his hand kissing you. He was here, he was really here.

“How…I’ve been here so long…how did you two…” Ignis moved in front of you instinctively when Hawke came upon the two of you as the void began to fade away from the area, “You should both be…not sane…���

“It’s okay, Ignis.” You put your hand on his arm looking at Hawke, “This is my friend…he’s gonna help us go home.”

[dinfeanoriel]

Legend Found

Oooh, this is so late! But it’s up now, as promised! Shout out to @strugglingtoast for helping me to find the inspiration and motivation needed to write this! I am so grateful to have a friend like you! 

I have to ask, is it just me, or do any of you guys end up smiling whenever Ravio’s theme starts playing? I can never not smile when I hear it! I love that boy so much.

Remember, remember, I own nothing but my writing! LU belongs to Jojo56830! 

~~~~~~~

The first painful collision with the sharp edge of a rock was absorbed by Time’s golden armor.

The second sent his head whipping back and his right leg bending unnaturally.  

The third, his skull cracked against a boulder and his head swam. His vision flickered and his ears rang. 

The fourth, Time was sure he felt a couple of ribs crack.

The fifth, he wished the painful endeavour would come to an end. His body twisted and bounced in ways he never thought possible, and the agony racing through his veins made him want to scream. How he kept from doing so was beyond him. 

The sixth, Time’s breath was stolen from him. The impact was harsher than the last five, and his arms loosened. His precious burden slipped from his hold.

He heard a rabbit warbling and his heart lurched. Darkness clouded his vision as consciousness started to fade.

“Skittles..!” Time weakly reached a hand for the rabbit he could faintly see tumbling down the cliff above him. The poor animal rolled and bounced off every rock possible before crashing onto a flat slab halfway down.

Time managed a small, relieved, smile when he suddenly went over yet another edge.

Agony. Sheer, unadulterated pain. Broken bones.

Time thought the torment would never end. He saw the ground closing in, and then…

There was peace. 

~~~~~~~

“Hey!” A finger poked his cheek.

His head rolled limply to the side.

“Hey, Mister?” The firm prodding continued, the familiar voice echoing in Time’s muddled and pain-filled mind. The gradual rise to consciousness was an arduous process Time wished he didn’t have to undergo.

His head throbbed agonizingly, the darkness behind closed lids swimming. His stomach twisted and churned, nausea growing every second he began to stir. His body ached, fire lancing through him as some of his cracked and broken bones screamed for relief. It didn’t help that he was lying on his back with sharp, irregularly-shaped, rocks digging uncomfortably into his skin.

How far and for how long had he fallen? The pain should be worse, but Time supposed he should be thankful it wasn’t.

“Wake up!”

Time winced, groaning in discomfort. His features twisted. The pain only intensified as he forced himself to stir.

“You awake?”

Why did he know that voice? Who did it belong to..?

The incessant prodding returned, pressing into his cheek and moving his head.

“I know it’s painful-”

You have absolutely no idea…

“-but you need to wake up!”

Time could have sighed. 

“Mr. Hero’s going to kill me if you don’t move.”

Mr. Hero..? Hylia, but his mind was slow. It was hard to think or even focus. His head pounded horribly, muddling his thoughts and slowing his reactions. 

A shrill tweeting sound caused Time to cringe which, in turn, made the pain already encompassing his body rise up a notch.

“Sheerow!” The voice scolded quietly, “He has a concussion! Tone it down!”

A contrite and remorseful chirp followed.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing too.”

Time felt something nudge at his cheek. Feathers brushed against his skin and the oldest Link had a strong feeling he should know who they belonged to. He’d met them before…

Forcing his single good eye to open, Time almost slid it back shut when the soft moonlight pierced them.

He blinked owlishly, ignoring the way in which the luminescent rays viciously stabbed at them. He opened his eye wider and wider until it could go no further.

A purple blob was leaning over him, a blue blob floating next to it. He squeezed his eye shut then tried again. The blurriness had alleviated a bit, allowing Time to see an eerily familiar violet-coloured rabbit hood with big, floppy, ears and huge eyes.The blue blob beside it was a weird-looking bird.

What a sight to wake up to...

The purple-hooded teen perked up, the bird performing a relieved dance in the air and singing sweetly.

“Ah, you’re awake!” He nodded to himself, “Good, good! I was afraid Mr. Hero was going to murder me if you died!”

He wore the biggest smile possible while saying those words.

Time’s mouth moved, but it took a few seconds until he could whisper hoarsely, “Ra...vio?”

He was pretty sure that was his name.

“You remember my name? That’s a good sign!” Relief coated his tone and Ravio gently touched his hands to Time’s throbbing head, checking the wounds he’d already bandaged. “Your friend was in such a state of panic when we found you!” 

Confusion furrowed Time’s brow. Friend? Had one of the others found him? 

Ravio caught it and clarified, “The pink rabbit.”

Time’s eye widened, “Skittles..?” So, Skittles was safe and sound? That was a relief to hear. Then, where was that insufferable little rabbit? Time couldn’t hear him chattering anywhere nearby, chewing him out for having not heeded his warning. Nor could he see the pink fluffball anywhere in the vicinity.

The corner of Ravio’s lips twitched upwards in amusement, 

“Is that his name?” He mused, snickering a couple times. “Oh, he must love it.”

Sheerow trilled almost as if he were laughing along with Ravio.

Why did Time get the feeling they knew something he didn’t?

Time groaned again when the world spun around him, tilting in such odd and extreme angles that the nausea almost grew overbearing. His eye drifted shut, hoping to quell it.

Ravio’s smile faded and he quickly turned to rifle through his bag.

“Lucky for you, I have another fairy.”

Time heard him tug something out- undoubtedly a bottle- and uncork it. Had he said another fairy? So he’d already used one before Time had awakened? Perhaps that was why he wasn’t completely immobilized by pain and his body wasn’t completely broken. 

Ravio politely asked the little fairy to heal him as best she could, and the fairy generously did.

Time felt the relief seep into his bones as they mended themselves. The pounding of his head had lessened, and his nauseousness wasn’t quite as bad. He risked sitting up, ignoring the dull aching sensations that still lingered. Ravio steadied him when he was struck by an incredible bout of dizziness.

It appeared the concussion was still there.

“C-careful now! You’re still badly injured,” Ravio concernedly chided, Sheerow chirping admonishingly. Time ignored them for a few seconds, carefully turning his head every-which-way in search of a missing rabbit.

His head protested greatly and he leaned forward, folding his hands beneath his chin and elbows digging into his knees. He slid his eye shut when the pounding intensified, making it difficult for him to focus.

“Where is Skittles?” He ground out between clenched teeth, clasping his hands tighter. 

Ravio grinned widely and twisted so he could look past his shoulder at something. Time followed his line of vision in time to see a pink head peer around a rock and straight at him.

He blinked slowly.

“Skittles..?” For it was indeed the pink bunny himself.

Skittles’ ears shot up at the familiar voice. He clucked happily, squeezing himself between a couple of boulders and making a mad dash for Time. Time cracked a smile when the bunny dove into his lap, pawing at his tunic in immense relief. He twisted and turned, almost performing a mad dance as he uttered a neverending stream of joyful sounds.

Ravio watched and had to hide his growing smirk behind his hand. It was a good thing he’d chosen to slip his hood up otherwise he feared the bunny would have torn him apart. 

He didn’t doubt that Skittles was capable of doing so. 

Oh, he’d never let him live it down! Once he got home, he would jot everything down in his journal- in detail. Mr. Hero would never be able to deny it!

Time pat the rabbit’s head, running a hand up and down Skittles’ spine and marveling at his incredibly soft fur.

“It’s good to see you too, Skittles,” Time told the bunny one he’d settled, seemingly satisfied to see he was more or less unharmed. Skittles made himself comfortable, for he had no intention of moving now that Time was awake. “You look better than when I last saw you.”

He received a sharp nip from Skittles on the finger. Hissing, Time whipped his finger back and flicked it in the air, 

“What was that for?” He groused. 

Skittles glowered at him, although the worry and fear in his eyes belied his true feelings. The rabbit then turned his back on Time with a huff, as if punishing the Hylian for having scared him half to death.

Time’s expression flatlined. This bunny’s temperament rivaled that of Legend’s!

“He was badly hurt when I found him,” Ravio’s voice drew Time’s attention back to him as the elder Hylian attempted to coax Skittles into looking at him. He stubbornly refused to. “But the wounds weren’t as bad as yours. He’s still not completely healed-” He sternly looked to the rabbit, “And shouldn’t be moving about so much.” 

Skittles jutted his chin up rebelliously, snapping back.

Ravio quirked an eyebrow, “Really?”

An affirmative cluck.

“Is that so?” Ravio purposefully poked the rabbit’s side- hard.

Skittles shrieked, startling Time, and reflexively retaliated by biting at Ravio’s hand. Ravio managed to whip the appendage back before sharp teeth could tear through his skin.

“Oh, did that hurt?” Ravio pointedly asked the seething rabbit, a hint of sarcasm dripping from his words. Time watched the two interact, his gaze settling on Skittles in concern. He gently placed his much larger hand on Skittles’ back. “He refused to allow me to treat him until we found you,” Ravio explained again, a red potion materializing in his hand, “He went mad with worry.” 

Time blinked slowly. Where on earth did Ravio keep everything?

Skittles shuffled and pressed himself against Time. He lifted the Hylian’s arm and draped it over him as if that would protect him from Ravio. He was still missing patches of his fur, Time realized. He was careful not to touch the skin that was visible. 

Ravio heaved a sigh at the pitiful sight, “And even when we found you, he wouldn’t let me so much as touch him until I’d bandaged most of your hurts. But he’s awake now and you still need healing!” He directed the last bit to Skittles. The rabbit didn’t move except to make himself smaller.

Time couldn’t help the small grin that grew from the rabbit’s antics, 

“Come now, Skittles,” He softly urged with a pat on the Skittles’ head, “You do need taking care of.”

Skittles growled when Ravio tried to proffer the Red Potion again.

Ravio’s shoulders slumped and Time could tell he was glaring fiercely at the defiant bunny.

“He’s fine!”

Skittles turned his head away, pawing at Time’s tunic meaningfully.

“You need it more than he does right now,” Ravio tried to reason.

It was useless.

Ravio heaved a sigh.

“Why must you be so stubborn?” He grumbled before handing the bottle to Time. “He won’t take it.”

“Then why give it to me?”

“He wants you to have it.” He glared at Skittles again before giving Time a pleading look, “Please take it so he’ll finally cooperate!”

Time could have laughed, but thought better of it. He knew just how difficult Skittles could be. The animal would refuse any help until he was certain Time was alright. The leader lifted the bottle and grimaced as the foul taste of the potion touched his tongue and spread. He swallowed quickly before lowering the bottle and returning it to Ravio.

The Hero shuddered as a sudden chill raced down his spine and looked down when he felt a paw tap his chest. Skittles had risen onto his hind legs and was gracing him with a worried look, nose quivering. 

It was a rather endearing thing to see. Not that Time would ever admit that aloud. Skittles was rather expressive and whenever Wind was down, he would make faces at the Sailor until Wind could no longer suppress his laughter. 

“I’m fine, Skittles.” He promised. 

And he was. He felt tons better now that he’d had both a fairy and a Red Potion to work their magic, if only a bit tired and exhausted.

Skittles appraised him critically before settling back, apparently satisfied by whatever he’d found. Most likely, he’d sensed the truth in Time’s words. 

The bunny cringed when his arm twinged painfully and cradled it against his chest. Red suddenly blocked his vision and Skittles found Ravio practically shoving the potion into his face.

“Take it,” He ordered.

Skittles blatantly refused, shoving the disgusting bottle away. He avoided those revolting potions if he could. 

A finger tapped Skittles’ chin, lifting his head up so he was eye-to-eye with a stern Time.

“You will take that potion now, Skittles. I won’t be held responsible when Wild finds how badly hurt you are and how difficult you’ve been. Have you seen Wild when he’s angry?”

In fact, yes. He had.

Skittles needed no further prompting. He snatched the Red Potion from Ravio’s hand and gulped down the rest at record speed.

Time was stunned.

“Thank Hylia!” Ravio praised with exasperated relief. Sheerow echoed him, bouncing up and down in the air. The poor boy was unprepared for the glass bottle to be flung back at his face and yelped as he fell back in shock.

“Skittles!” Time admonished, the scolding slipping from him almost instinctively. Skittles shot him a smug look, earning a bop on his nose. Skittles’ nose crinkled and the rabbit lifted his paws to cover it in surprise. “You’re lucky it was me and not Wild who saw that,”

By the Gods, this infuriating rabbit was more human than animal! 

Skittles pawed at his head, tugging his ears down and hiding his face from view almost shamefully. Time rolled his unscarred eye.

He was about to tell the rabbit to stop his overdramatic self when Skittles moved and curled up against him.

Ravio, who’d quickly recovered from the sudden assault, lightly coughed to cover up his laughter. He remained on the ground, palms planted into the soil as he kept himself propped up. His beaming smile remained. 

Clearly, Skittles was far too relieved that Time was alright to care about anything right now.

“Well, Mr. Hero will definitely be happy to see you up on your feet!” Ravio chirped, and Time’s expression fell slightly. Ravio’s grin withered uncertainly, catching the blatant look of pure murder Skittles was shooting him.“Wh-what’s wrong?” He stammered, shrinking under the glare.

How could Mr. Hero be so scary in rabbit form?

Time took to petting Skittles. How to break this to the boy..? He stared down at the pink bundle in his lap, unseeing.

“Ravio…” He started with a sigh, “Legend…”

“Legend what..?” Ravio pressed, terribly confused. Mr. Hero was right-

Understanding dawned on him when he looked from the rabbit to the unknowing Hero.

Oh…

Oh.

“Legend disappeared seven days ago.” Time finally settled with, voice quiet and head bowed. He curved his hand around Skittles’ neck, grim. Skittles raised his head with a soft cluck, nudging the Hero’s hand and placing his paw on the one he’d been resting his chin on.

Time found it hard to face Ravio. He knew how much the teen looked up to Legend. The entire time they’d spent at Legend’s storehouse, Ravio basically glomped Legend whenever he would see him and always greet him with an enthusiastic cry of, “Mr. Hero!” 

As much as Legend would shout and snark at him, telling Ravio off and ordering him to release him, Legend never once pushed him away. And he’d defend Ravio if any of them said anything about the hooded and abnormally cheerful teen. He’d allowed Ravio to stay in his storehouse to, quote-on-quote, ‘watch his stuff.’ 

He wasn’t fooling Time. Once, Time had caught him begrudgingly patting Ravio’s head after a particularly bad scare.  

Time knew better. He’d learned to read in between the lines. He’d learned to really look at Legend and see how he truly felt about matters.

‘He’s dead!’ Time recalled him crying out when Wild had been knocked unconscious. The worry had been carefully hidden, but Time had caught it. He’d truly been afraid for Wild and expressed it in true Legend fashion.

When he got after Hyrule after he’d been injured, Time knew it had been more out of worry than actual anger.

“We haven’t been able to find him.”

Ravio didn’t utter a single word.

The silence was worse than if he’d actually spoken.

Time could understand. Devastation coiled in the pit of his stomach. Not only was Legend gone, but they had changed worlds. How else could Ravio be here? 

When and how it had happened, Time didn’t know. He wondered if his fall had anything to do with it. Now...If Legend were alive...he was possibly stuck in Hyrule’s world. Unless the Goddess had mercy on them and transported Legend along with them.

A hand settled on his shoulder and Time forced himself to lift his head and face Ravio. 

The hood he wore covered his eyes and masked his expression, and Time couldn’t interpret how Ravio had taken the news from his body language. The boy had his head lowered, and Time felt a pang in his heart. 

Grief, is what he associated it with. Or perhaps he was too shocked to truly digest Time’s words. 

“Let’s head to the Storehouse...” Ravio quietly told him, “You need rest, but first,” the young Lorulean picked a protesting Skittles up off Time’s lap and set him down on the ground. In a rare show of solemnity, he whispered somberly to the rabbit, “Better hurry, Mr. Hero,” He motioned meaningfully in the direction of Legend’s storehouse, “You’ve kept them agonizing about your fate for too long. They’re beginning to despair.” He discreetly eyed Time when saying this. Facing Skittles once more, he lifted his hand that was curled into a fist and brought it close to the rabbit. 

Uncurling his fingers, he revealed the Moon Pearl he’d managed to swipe from Time’s pack. 

Skittles stayed there for a moment, eyes riveted to the orb, debating. 

Then, he looked up and met Ravio’s eyes with gratitude and acceptance. He cradled the Pearl in his paws and drew it close. Before he took his leave, he raised a paw and bopped Ravio’s nose. The eccentric merchant inwardly celebrated, a smile splitting his lips as he watched Skittles spin around and race away with remarkable speed. 

~~~~~~~

When Time next awoke, he felt more refreshed but no better than earlier. His dreams had been haunted with despairing visions of Legend. Of several possibilities of what could have befallen him. He’d watched Legend die in every way possible, over and over and over again. It was an endless cycle. And there was nothing he could do. 

When Legend would die, his dream would restart, and he’d be forced to watch Legend die again. 

It reminded him painfully of Clocktown, but there was no saving Legend. He couldn’t warn him- couldn’t prevent his death. Anytime he tried to cry out, his voice would fail him. The dreams stole his ability to speak away. 

Heaving a sigh, Time took a moment to recollect himself. He knew with every passing day, the hope the Links clung to slipped away. It was getting more difficult for them to press onward when the probability of finding Legend alive was depreciating. 

He willed those dark thoughts away and turned his head. Time’s heart nearly leaped into his throat when a purple bunny suddenly appeared in his line of vision. Big, huge eyes that peered into one’s soul met his and Time almost started. 

“Ravio!” He fell back onto the bed, fixing the hooded boy with an unappreciative look, “A little warning next time?” 

Ravio laughed gleefully, Sheerow trilling with amusement, “That was the same reaction Mr. Hero had when he woke up!” Then, in a much lower tone, he added with a wicked smile, “Except he fell out of bed.” 

That...must have made for an amusing sight, Time imagined sorrowfully. He appraised the younger teen, wondering at his bright and chipper demeanor. How was Ravio so upbeat and smiley after learning of his friend’s disappearance? 

Sitting up, Time grimaced when his body ached in protest. He raked a hand through his hair, looking around curiously. They were in Legend’s house, that he recognized. But, when had they gotten there? He could vaguely remember Ravio helping him down the path... 

He turned himself around, shifting until he could slip out of the bed that was a little too small for him. Before he could stand, however, Ravio stilled him with a hand on his shoulder. 

Time looked to him and blinked in surprise when the teen lifted his hood so they could see eye-to-eye. 

“Um, sir...” He began, his previous cheerful demeanor gone, but the kind and warm gleam remained in his incredibly green eyes, “I should probably tell you before you get up,” 

“Tell me what, Ravio?” Time inquired. He then noticed the absence of a certain pink bunny. 

Again. 

“Where is Skittles?” 

Ravio looked away briefly, “He’s...gone,” He replied carefully. 

Time felt his heart sink. Skittles was gone? When had this happened? Had they been attacked on their way back? Had something happened while he was unconscious?

His intense gaze settled on Ravio, and the Lorulean shrunk under it. 

“What do you mean ‘gone?’” 

Ravio cleared his throat and averted his gaze. Time’s heart sunk even more. What would he tell Wild? Or to Wind and Hyrule? Those three were attached to the hot-headed rabbit. 

“How?” He questioned, softer this time. How would he ever face Wild? The first thing he would have to explain to him once the others found him would be Skittles’ notable absence. 

Ravio blinked in confusion before understanding lit his features, 

“Oh!” He waved his hands madly in the air, frantically shaking his head, “Nothing like that! Skittles is fine! He just...went away for a while!” It was a horrible explanation, but it would have to work for now. 

Time released a sigh full of relief. 

“But...you see,” Ravio’s grin returned and he quietly uttered, “He found someone that I think you have been wanting to see for a while now.” 

Time blinked, and looked sharply to the odd merchant. Did he mean..? 

Ravio interpreted the imploring look correctly and stepped to the side.

Time peered past him and could scarcely believe it. 

There, curled up within the folds of several blankets and covers piled together, was the one they had spent seven days searching high and low for. 

The one they had so dearly missed and desperately hoped to find alive. The one whose voice they had longed to hear again!

Without his blue hat or red and gold tunic, Time almost didn’t recognize him, but he knew, deep down, that it was him. The glowing lamplight didn’t give off much light, but it provided enough for Time to see part of his face not buried into the fabric of the thick blankets.

Time didn’t know when he moved. One moment, he’d been sitting on the edge of the mattress, the next, he was kneeling beside Legend’s still form, staring down at him almost in disbelief. 

Bruises and deep scratches marred his face and covered his arms. Angry red and pale pink spots dotted his skin where the flesh had seemingly been skinned off. There were various other injuries already healing and some wounds that were fading. 

He looked beaten and exhausted. There were dark shadows under his eyes, mingling with the bruises on his face. 

What had happened to him? 

Time moved his hand falteringly towards Legend, hardly daring to believe the vision before him. 

Was it...

Was Legend really here? Or was he caught up in a deceitful dream toying with his hopes? Would he wake and find Legend gone? 

A firm hand gripped his shoulder again, but Time didn’t dare look away. He was afraid to. His eye remained fixated on Legend’s slumbering form. 

“It’s him, sir,” Ravio’s voice, uncharacteristically strong, said to him, “He’s really here.” 

That was all Time needed to hear. He rested his hand on Legend’s head, a wave of immense relief flooding over him.

“Skittles found him near the shrine, unconscious.” Ravio murmured, his voice fading into the background. Time was too busy ensuring Legend was very much alive and real. “Ironic, really...” 

He trailed off when Legend’s features contorted, his sleep disturbed by Time’s touch. A small groan escaped him and his eyes fluttered briefly. 

Time moved his hand to Legend’s bandaged shoulder as clear blue eyes glazed over with weariness opened and looked blearily at him. His brow creased and he blinked a couple of times to clear his vision. 

He met Time’s eye that was so full of emotion the leader didn’t fully express and grinned faintly. His parched lips parted and he croaked out, 

“Fancy meeting you here...” He rubbed at his throat as though speaking pained him, then tacked on, “Old Man,”

[verai-marcel]

I found you on AO3. Love your work! I was wondering if you could do something with Arthur and Abigail during John’s yearlong absence. Smut it up! Please and thank you! 😊

Just This Once (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x Abigail, 18+)

Summary: It’s been 11 months since John left the gang. On a cold winter’s night, Abigail sits alone and cries silently, heartbroken and lonely. In a moment of weakness, she does what she never thought she would do again: seeks the warmth of another man.

Author’s Notes: According to the Red Dead wiki, Arthur and Abigail have a 14 year age gap, making her 19 and Arthur 33 in 1896, which is roughly when John is gone. I saw the whispers of this relationship in game and I think this was the second relationship that was cut from the story. So I’ll explore this what-if through my writing.

Tags: angst, smut, plot, age difference, RDR2 spoilers

AO3 Link is over yonder.

——————–

Abigail slowly lay Jack down to sleep in her bed, brushing his hair with her tired hand and smiling softly at her baby. She loved her little boy, more than anything. If only… if only John loved him too. If only he loved her enough to stay.

She quietly left the tent and walked to the edge of the nearby stream to take a moment to herself. She had to be realistic. It had been almost a year. John wasn’t coming back. She had fallen for him, loved him hard, perhaps too hard, and now she had lost him. Staring up at the starry sky, she let out a sigh, wrapping her shawl around her tighter against the winter chill. 

She heard the crunch of leaves and twigs under heavy boots and recognized the particular gait of its owner. Turning to him, she attempted to smile, but even she could tell her lips wavered.

“Better get back inside, it’s cold out here.” Arthur looked as if he wanted to say more, but waited for her to respond.

“Just a moment longer. I just need… a moment.”

He took another two steps to stand next to her. “I have some whiskey, if it’ll help.”

Arthur didn’t share his personal stash of whiskey lightly. He knew she was missing John fiercely, and he hated watching the light slowly fade from her eyes over the past few months. Where was that fierce woman who stood up to the world and spat in its face? Seeing her like this did something to his insides that he didn’t want to examine any further. He just wanted her to be happy again, like she was when she… well, when she had started to fall for John. He kicked himself mentally for where his mind had gone.

Abigail nodded. “I’ll take you up on that, Arthur.” She quietly followed him back to his tent, which he had closed up to keep the warmth in as much as possible. He pulled out the bottle from a box underneath his cot and handed it to her.

“Sorry I don’t have no fancy cups or nothin’,” he mumbled.

She took the bottle and took a very hearty swig. “Thank you,” she said, making a face as the alcohol burned her throat all the way down. Handing the bottle back to him, she sat down on his cot and let out another deep sigh. “Can I… can I ask you somethin’?”

He sat next to her and took a drink of whiskey. “Sure,” he said, although a bit hesitantly.

“I miss him. How… how do you cope?”

Arthur let out a deep sigh of his own. “You jus’ hafta take life one day at a time. And if you’re still livin’ the next day, then you got to deal with it then too.”

She looked at him, a sadness filling her eyes. She understood; Mary had left a giant hole in Arthur’s heart. Tilly was irritated whenever her name was brought up, and Hosea would glare at anyone who brought her up in Arthur’s presence. And then losing Eliza and Isaac only tore that hole further.

Placing her hand on his knee, she just nodded. “It… It hurts. Even after all this time.”

Before he could think better of it, Arthur wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling Abigail into his arms for a comforting hug. She felt so small in his embrace, so warm and soft. A protectiveness surged in his heart, and Arthur, unable to stop himself, laid a soft kiss on her temple.

Abigail held her breath. Her heart belonged to John, but her body reacted to the physical comfort that Arthur brought. She leaned into him, remembering the way he had felt beneath her.

Had it only been two years since she had joined the gang? Uncle had introduced her as a working girl, to help with chores and occasionally warm beds to keep morale up amongst the men, in exchange for a safe place to live and food to eat. Most of the men had bedded her; even Arthur had, but only once, after he came back drunk and depressed. He never said why he was so unhappy that night; only that he took her hand, led her to his tent, and asked to have her. He had been so gentle, so giving, and when he was done, he had curled up around her and cradled her close to him as he slept. She had wondered what kind of man he would have been if he hadn’t been in this kind of life. 

Then John started to fall for her, and she for him, and she started doing more chores to make up for her no longer wanting to warm beds, which Dutch and Hosea agreed with. She could say that most of the men she had been with had fucked her, but only two men had made love to her: John… and Arthur.

“Can… can I stay?” she whispered as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Arthur pulled back and met her eyes, torn between craving the physical intimacy and his own resentment. She loved John, not him. She was just feeling lonely and wanted someone, anyone.

“Just this once. Please, Arthur.”

He couldn’t leave her alone, not when she was looking up at him with a loneliness that mirrored his own. After a few moments, he sighed and nodded.

“Alright, but no kissin’ on the lips. That’s my only rule.”

She nodded, not wanting to question him, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered as she reached up to unbutton his shirt.

“O’course,” Arthur said with a wry smile as he let her remove his clothes, sitting back and taking in her beautiful form as she did the same. Watching the shirt slide off her shoulders, the skirt flutter down from her hips, he felt his blood burn with desire; it had been so long since he’d laid with a woman, and Abigail was certainly a fine specimen. Her skin was soft as he caressed her shoulder and arm, taking her wrist and pulling her close. Grabbing the blanket, he covered them both as he laid down on his back, draping her over his body. She held him close, snuggling against his warmth as he stroked her back, his hands trailing along her skin, giving her goosebumps as she sighed with pleasure.

He trailed kisses on her neck and earlobe as she sat up and straddled him. Cupping her generous bosom, he pinched her nipples just to see her reaction. Abigail bit her lip, controlling her voice as she leaned forward into his touch. She rolled her hips against him, his cock straining to enter her inviting heat.

“Been so long,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” she sighed as she slowly lifted her hips and lowered herself onto his length, reveling in the intimate embrace, of feeling filled up by a man. She had missed this feeling of physical connection, and even though Arthur wasn’t the man she loved, she trusted him with her life. If ever she was in danger, she knew that Arthur was the sort of man who would save her. It was a deep feeling, a different kind of love.

When she was fully seated on his member, Arthur gripped her hips and started to guide her pace. As she started to ride him, he controlled her speed, keeping her slow at first, but as their desire built higher and higher, he couldn’t help his own movements as he moved her faster on his cock.

“I need more,” he murmured before pulling her close and rolling over so she was beneath his body. Lifting his hips, he took her from this new angle, watching her throw her head back and pant. She tried to keep herself quiet, but the strength of his thrusts drew out a small mewl from her, and he quickly covered her mouth with a big hand. 

“Hush now, don’t want anyone knowin’ about this,” he whispered. She nodded in agreement.

He wrapped his other arm around her and buried his face into her neck. Smelling her unique scent, Arthur sucked on her neck and collarbone, losing himself to her lush body, the heat enveloping him. Her muffled moans of pleasure sounded like heaven in his ears. For one swift moment, he wished she was his.

If only. If only Abigail would forget John, as if she could. If only Mary didn’t invade his thoughts, as she too often did.

His mind replaced Abigail’s face with Mary’s for a second too long, and to his deepest shame, he almost shot his spend inside. Pulling out quickly, he buried his moans into her chest as he spent himself on her belly instead.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Arthur mumbled as he collapsed next to her. He trailed his hand down her body until he reached her core, and started to stroke her. “Lemme help you.”

Abigail turned towards Arthur, clinging to his shoulders as he touched her in just the right way, just like he did that one night long ago. She came in his arms, shuddering and biting down on his shoulder to stifle her sounds of release.

Afterwards, they lay together, just breathing deep, Abigail’s head buried in Arthur’s chest, her body tucked against his for warmth.

“Thank you,” Abigail finally whispered.

He nodded, then after a few silent moments, he spoke, almost too low for her to hear. 

“If you ever need me, Abigail, I’ll be there. Always.”

***

Arthur awoke to feel wetness on his chest. Looking down, he watched Abigail murmur in her sleep, a few tears sliding down her face.

“John…”

He sighed. Of course. Even though he knew what he got himself into, it still hurt to hear another man’s name on the lips of a woman he just laid with, and his heart burned with even more resentment. That dumb bastard had no idea how lucky he was.

***

In 1907, on a cold winter’s day, John finally, finally, opened Arthur’s journal. Being an idiot, he read the last entry first.

“John, protect Abigail and Jack.”

He nodded; he could almost hear Arthur in his head saying those words to him. Then he flipped to the beginning of the journal to read from there. So engrossed in his brother’s entries, he didn’t hear Abigail as she sat down on the bed next to him and looked over his shoulder.

“Is that me?" 

John blinked and looked over at her, and then looked down at the page he was reading. "Yeah.”

“Arthur… drew me?" 

"And the boy too.”

“What does his entry say?" 

John debated lying to her, but that wasn’t his way. Honesty above all else, even if the rest of his morals weren’t as crystal clear. So he took a deep breath, and read it out loud to her. 

He looked up to see Abigail holding her mouth closed, fighting back tears. He put the journal down and held his arms out to her. She fell into his arms, clinging to him tightly as she took shuddering breaths, trying to regain her composure. 

"He did a lot for us,” John whispered. “I, we, won’t ever forget him.”

John felt her nodding. He just held Abigail close, feeling her warmth, her softness. He felt incredibly grateful that he was able to live on and be with her, that she still stayed with him after all his mistakes. After a while, a wistful smile spread across his face as he thought back to the past.

Arthur was right; he was the luckiest man alive.

——————–

End Notes: I hope I did this request justice, @jesusismyhostage​. I really wanted this to be as canon-compliant as possible, because I want to believe that this could totally have happened in game. Anyway, let me know what you think!

[anenglishmansinamorata]

Imprudens Occursus

Alternative Title: Inadvertent Encounter

[Notes: Cordial Post-Break Up in the Modern Era]

The sound of footsteps echoed against the marble floor as the Englishman made his way towards the designated arrival area. Stopping just behind the barricade, Arthur narrowed his eyes causing his eyebrows to furrow as he scanned the sea of people. Eventually, he saw the familiar figure of Matthew who waved him over with a wide smile on his handsome face.

"Welcome Arthur." The Canadian greeted as he gave the Brit a small hug in which the shorter blonde returned with a pat on Matthew's back. "How was your flight?"

"It went well. Some turbulence but that was to be expected." Arthur followed the taller nation, holding unto his luggage as he was led towards the exit where a smartly dressed driver stood waiting in front of a sleek black Sedan.

"May I take your bags, Sir?" The older gentleman inquired before England nodded, allowing him to take his luggage and loading them into the back of the car.

"Unfortunately, I cannot bring you to the hotel myself and I had arranged for you to be brought straight to the hotel." Matthew apologized as he gave the older man a weak smile. "Alfred's flight has been delayed and will be arriving in the next hour or so and he decided to invite himself over to my house."

"Don't fret about not dropping me off, Matthew. I'm sure I'll get there safely." Arthur grimaced at the thought, feeling a bit sympathy for his former charge who had to babysit his own brother. The Brit heard the trunk of the car softly closing before continuing. "Well, you certainly have your night cut out for you. I will see you tomorrow then."

Once the two blondes said their farewells, the older nation took a seat inside the car and watched as the personification of Canada gave him a small wave before returning inside the arrival area, probably to wait for his twin brother. Arthur turned towards the front of the car and reached into the breast pocket of his coat to retrieve a small worn leather pocket journal. Flipping to a page, he scanned the various notes that he had written down earlier on as he waited for his flight from Heathrow.

There were plenty of reminders that he had written to himself as well as a few other matters that his own Prime Minister have brought up to his attention. Alongside the various points, he had yet to go over the agenda that Matthew had e-mailed to him a few days ago. Furthermore, he still had to look over a few drafted documents that had been prepared for him by his Prime Minister's secretary before it would be presented to Her Royal Highness next week.

Arthur retrieved his pen from his coat pocket quickly to scribble down a small note for himself to possibly ask if the meeting with Her Highness could be postponed for a few days after his arrival. Rarely did he ask for a few days off of work but he always felt sluggish and a bit haggard after these meetings which most of the time takes a toll on him. After a few minutes of going over the notes he had written to himself for the umpteenth time, Arthur closed the small journal once he felt a slight headache coming.

He suddenly heard the slight pitter-patter of water droplets hitting the windshield of the car and gradually an onslaught of rain began beating down on the glass from either side of the vehicle. The blonde relaxed as he listened to the calming sound as he continued to try and make out of the various buildings.

The most part of the ride, the island nation took in the sights of the highways and eventually noticed the city skyline as he approached the downtown area. Unknowingly, a small tilt in the corner of the blonde's mouth appeared as he watched the humans either hastily walking or running as they tried to find a place to take shelter from the rain. Arthur continued to admire the sidewalks darkening as more clouds began to cover the evening sky until he felt the car slow down in front of what seems to be the hotel.

"It's alright." Arthur was interrupted as he reached for his wallet making him look up to see the polite smile from the driver from the rear-view mirror. "Mr. Williams had paid for everything beforehand."

"Oh. Thank you." A soft knock on the door's exterior caught the blonde off guard as he turned to look at the individual standing by his car door.

A middle-aged man, possibly the hotel's doorman had unraveled a large umbrella as Arthur exited the vehicle. Whilst another of the hotel's staff, a uniformed younger lad with a name tag indicating that he was a bellboy, retrieved the Brit's bags from the car's trunk and into the hotel lobby.

The island nation thanked the doorman once he was led towards the main desk where he was greeted by a receptionist. After a brief friendly conversation with the lady, the Englishman was permitted to carry his luggage himself and provided a key card to his room. Thanking the young woman, Arthur then made his way in the direction of the hallway where the lifts were located. The island nation took a moment to admire the older traditional fixtures and architecture of the hotel before pressing the button for the lift.

"Well, well look who's here." The heavily French-accented voice of his long-time rival made the Englishman whip his head toward the personification of France.

"What are you doing here?!"

"I'm obviously attending the conference as well." The Frenchman rolled his eyes as he stood beside the shorter blonde to wait for the lift before glancing at his companion. "Did Matthieu accompany you from the airport?"

"No." Arthur retorted as he entered the small space, and pressed the floor to his room before crossing his arms adamantly. "He's was going to wait for America, they will be sleeping at his home due to his delayed flight."

"Hmm." The Frenchman made a sound of an acknowledgement as he pressed the numbered button on the panel before leaning back on the lift's mirrored wall. "I assume you just came from the airport. The restaurant in the lobby is open late."

"I don't see why that’s any of your business where I eat." Arthur sarcastically replied as he glared at the other male in the small space before turning his attention to the blinking floor indicator.

"Just making a suggestion, Angleterre (England)."

A soft chiming sound filled the elevator before the doors slowly opened and the Frenchman stepped out. Arthur made a move to press the button to close the elevator doors, wanting to reach his own room quickly, when the older nation turned to him with a knowing smile on his handsome face.

"Vraiment, Angleterre (Really, England) …I suggest you try the Library Bar in the Lobby for dinner. "

With that, the doors closed and Arthur was meet by his own confused expression. His brows remained furrowed as he exited on his floor and found himself in front of his hotel room. Swiping the sleek card that had been provided to him, he heard the key card lock beep before twisting the knob open and stepping into the room.

Once within the room, England immediately turned on the lights before placing his suitcase beside the dressing table. The blonde immediately slipped off his suit jacket before walking over to the bathroom to refresh himself. Splashing a bit of cold water on his face the Brit reached for a nearby towel to dry himself off before taking a closer look at his reflection.

Noticing his messy hair, the Brit reached up in the hopes of taming his shaggy locks and stopping only when he was satisfied with his appearance. Quickly glancing at the watch on his wrist, Arthur quickly retrieved his jacket that was draped on the back of an armchair before exiting his room. Pressing the button, the blond placed his card in the back pocket of his trousers whilst waiting for the elevator. It only took a few moments for the elevator doors to come up and Arthur pressed the button for the lobby.

The Brit watched as the numbers on the floor indicator as the lift continued to descend. The soft sound of the bell echoed in the small space and Arthur turned towards the elevator doors that began to slowly open. It was then he saw a pair of familiar faces. Elizabeta Hedervary and Roderich Edelstein, the respective personifications of Hungary and the Republic of Austria stepped out of the lift together whilst greeting Arthur.

"Good Evening, England." The female smiled kindly at Arthur while Austria merely gave the shorter male a nod of his head. "Heading out for dinner?"

"Hungary. Austria." Arthur nodded as he returned the greeting while he exiting the elevator and making way for the two to enter. "I was just on my way to the hotel restaurant."

"Ah, yes. The food is quite delicious. I'm sure it will be to your liking." The Austrian supplied before squinting at the clock from across the hall.

"We shouldn't keep you, Arthur. I'm sure you must be famished." Elizabeta supplied as she noticed the discreet gesture from her companion, a sign that Roderich was exhausted from the day considering that they had both arrived at the hotel just a few hours before.

"Have a good evening, England." The bespectacled nation nodded towards the shorter blond as they entered the lift.

"Thank you. I wish you two a pleasant evening as well." Arthur gave the two a courteous smile before making his way towards the restaurant which was situated in the other side of the main lobby.

The calming atmosphere within the space was inviting and it only took a few seconds until the island nation was escorted by a hostess who had been managing the front desk reception. With a friendly smile, the female-led the Brit to a comfortable yet private table which was situated by the windows. Arthur thanked the young woman and taking this opportunity, the green-eyed country admired the classy interior of the restaurant.

Thankfully the ambiance allowed him to relax seeing that everything was according to his taste. The restaurant indeed looked exactly like an older library that can only be found in older buildings. Roman columns were littered in various parts of the large space and held up a wooden ceiling that had various intricate wooden carvings etched into them. The soft lighting, mahogany shelves and antiquated paintings that hung on the walls almost tricked the Brit into thinking that he was within his own home.

A serene smile crept over the blonde's face as his bright emerald orbs scanned the area, enjoying the aspect of people watching. The Brit continued to scan the crowd of restaurant-goers and almost missed a familiar face. Five tables down from his own sat an excellently dressed young woman who looked to be partaking dinner alongside two other females. Arthur could barely keep his face from contorting in disbelief as the realization hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water.

His thoughts were interrupted when a waiter approached his table and introduced himself before providing him the restaurant menu. It took a few moments for Arthur to blindly decide on a beverage and dish before the waiter left him to his own devices. Arthur immediately turned towards the glass window by his table to try and make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

After a few minutes of forcing himself to admire the rainy scenery, the blonde's thoughts were interrupted as the waiter approached his table once more, this time carrying a small basket of assorted slices of bread and the glass of water that he had asked for. The waiter shortly excused himself after inquiring if the blonde needed anything else for the time being.

Deciding to distract himself, the Englishman turned his attention towards his phone until his food arrived. The Brit forced himself to avoid glancing over to where the female was situated but, in the end, succumbed to taking an occasional glimpse over the screen of his phone. The last time the island nation had accidentally run into the female was over three years ago in the busy streets of London. He could not help but notice how little she had changed over the years, still retaining her roguish smile as her eyes crinkled in amusement. Emerald orbs silently admired the woman's relaxed form and the subtle way she carried herself in a manner that was both elegant and effortless.

Arthur pried his gaze away from the female as the finally noticed a waiter who was approaching his table, carrying a tray containing his dinner-- a serving of Ryh Apiary Ale Battered Cod with a side of Coleslaw and Chips. Thanking the young man who gave him a respectful nod of his head and to enjoy himself, Arthur began to partake in his dinner glancing over at the table a few meters away in a nonchalant manner.

He would be lying if breaking off their relationship had not affected him in the first few months of living by himself again. It had been a quiet affair and he could barely remember who had initially brought it up. Contrary to popular belief, there was no shouting or threats between the couple, only whispers of apologies and promises that were never kept.

The Englishman could briefly remember himself promising to try and stay in contact. In the end, the two drifted apart even further and unfortunately, being the personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Arthur barely had any time to wallow in sadness and instead threw himself into work, disregarding the heavy feeling in his chest.

Half an hour passed and during this time, the Brit's former flame made her way to the restaurant's bar. Moving towards one of the more discreet areas, the young woman made herself comfortable on a barstool after saying her farewell to her two companions. Feeling quite satisfied with dinner and tired, Arthur called for the bill.

Upon the waiter arriving at his table, the blonde reached for his wallet and the young man carefully place a small, clear glass of chilled whiskey-making the blonde do a double-take. Seeing the confused expression of his guest, the waiter discreetly leaned towards him, whispering in a low voice.

"It's alright, sir. The whole bill has been covered." Arthur could feel his brows furrowed in confusion before asking.

"May I ask who was kind enough to cover it?" The waiter nodded and discreetly motioned to the familiar female who could be seen nursing a glass of gin and tonic.

The Englishman could not help but feel tense as he nodded absentmindedly towards the waiter who took this moment to see to the other diners. Arthur tore his gaze from the figure by the bar towards the glass of whiskey in front of him. Lifting the cup with his fingers and swirling the beverage for a moment, the Brit eventually took a sip and before directing his gaze towards the woman across the room.

In those few seconds, everything out of his line of sight seemed a blur as both his and the female's eyes meet. The Brit felt tense ever so slightly as the woman shot him a reserved smile before tipping her half-filled glass towards him. Taking a sip of his own drink, ignoring the burning sensation of liquor down his throat, keeping a steady gaze on her.

He could see the slight smile on her painted lips as she tried to hide it behind the cool drink in her hand before turning to the bar. It must have been his tired mind, the alcohol or possibly the impish gleam in her eyes that compelled him to leave the comfort of his table, empty glass in hand.  Upon reaching the vacant seat beside the well-dressed woman, the blond nodded towards the bartended.

"Another glass, lad," Arthur spoke in a low voice making the individual beside him turn her head ever slightly in his direction, although not meeting his gaze. "I…would like to thank you for dinner."

"The pleasure was all mine…" It took a few more seconds until the female finally peered at the Englishman, smiling lazily.  "It's been a while, Arthur."

The island nation could not help but feel mystified from her gaze and he found himself questioning himself as to why he had approached her in the first place. England couldn't tell if the flush on her cheeks was from the alcohol or the delight of having her see him.  A chuckle escaped his companion as she shook her head at him, speaking only when the bartender left after fixing the Brit his drink. Finishing her drink, the female angled her body toward the green-eyed blonde, an indication that she had his attention for the rest of the evening.

.

.

.

[taevcngs-blog]

best mistake - taeyong

Genre: Short Series; Fluff. [bad boy, thief, taeyong au!]

Word Count: 3K

Summary: You lived in a world full of books, while he lived in a world full of you.

While you worked in your towns local bookstore, you meet with a thief. He attempts his mischievous ways until you catch him. Sparing his life from the police, you two make a deal, but what you both don’t know is that the deal ends with a plot twist that you’ve only ever read about in books.

A/N: tbh i could of done better with part two, but i have another series in mind and i think that one will be way better than this! anyways thank you for the support and if you liked any bit of this, i appreciate it!

part one | part two

Usually your afternoons consisted of pages, cash and Johnny’s corny jokes between customers. This afternoon was different. This time you felt like you were babysitting, babysitting a grown adult. You managed to convince your boss to hire Taeyong since you needed more workers anyways. You let Johnny know that Taeyong was a close friend of yours, somehow Johnny knew something was a bit odd. He didn’t question you though, but he kept his eye on Taeyong most of the time.

“This… This is the most boring job I’ve ever had, and trust me I’ve gotten fired from a lot of jobs,” Taeyong sighs, resting his head behind the counter.

“Yeah well, keep that head of yours up. You owe me one, remember?” You roll your eyes, stocking the little goodies displayed by check out.

“How can I forget when you practically choked me to death by my hood,” he grumbles.

You squeeze your eyes shut, containing the annoyance bubbling up in you. You grit through your teeth, “I have a hunch we won’t be getting along well, Taeyong.”

He pouts, defensive and taken back, “yeah well start acting like you do before your boyfriend realizes we aren’t really friends-“ before he could continue snapping, you smack his head with one of the items in your hand.

“Ah!” He rubs the mark on his head, glaring at you.

“Could you be any louder?! And what boyfriend are you talking about?!” You angrily whisper.

“Aren’t you and Jackson over there an item?” He nods his head towards Johnny’s direction.

Rolling your eyes you shake your head, “Johnny, is my coworker and close friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Got that, airhead?” You walk away from him before your temper got any worse. You could of sworn you heard him mutter something, but you just brushed it off and continued your usual job.

When lunch time came around, you usually spent that time across the street. There was a great cafe that served amazing warm sandwiches with their drinks. Their tables outside were never dirty, and the service was amazing. Majority of your lunches took place at this cafe as you read your books while enjoying your meal. This time you were writing in your journal, hoping that you would somehow find inspiration at one of your favorite places. Taking a sip from your mug, you look out the glass screen you sat beside, watching the people walk to wherever they needed to. You ignored the bell that rang as another customer walked in.

You can’t help it, it’s still on your mind and you know it. The concept of romance. Most importantly what is romance? Why do you want to write about it so badly if you can’t even understand it. So, the thought came to you; write down anything that makes your heart skip. In order to understand love, you have to feel it. You decided even the small things count, so let's start now.

Continuing to peacefully look out the window, you decide to jot down things that make your heart flutter, even a mental note to yourself if possible. You thought about peoples eyes. You think they say a lot about them, and their expressions. you can almost see someone's thoughts through their eyes and that’s what made them so important to you. You loved humor, if you could joke around with someone, then they automatically made you comfortable. You happen to notice a couple holding hands while passing by. They where everything you always read about when it came down to romance, it was very easy to tell when others are in love, but could it be easy for you to know when you are?

You felt a presence next to you, causing you to look away from the window. You notice Taeyong smiling at you while he has a coffee in his hand along with a few cookies. He looked a bit hesitant, but you figured he just didn’t want to make the interaction anymore awkward.

“Uh hey, I saw you sitting here alone and I thought you might use the company, unless I’m like wrong or something,” He slowly sits down across from you, trying to find any signs of annoyance.

You sigh, deciding to give him a chance, “yeah, I was just finishing up. I thought your lunch break wasn’t till later?” You ask.

“Johnny kind of let me off the hook since I’m new,” he takes a sip of his coffee, eyes wandering to your opened journal. His eyes lightly skim it, noticing some sentences you had written down.

“Are you a writer?” His brow lifts.

“You seem to have a few ideas written down there,” he smiles, interested.

You quickly shut the journal, clearing your throat. Your eyes quickly wander around you out of embarrassment, avoiding eye contact with Taeyong.

“I don’t know if I’ll call myself a writer, but I do write from time to time for fun,” you clear your throat.

You were giving off to much awkward vibes. Just relax, it’s just Taeyong, you thought. Just another person who needs to take responsibility for his mistakes. Remember, he’s a troublemaker.

“Well, if you’re writing and love to do it then you’re a writer. I’m sure you’re a great one too,” he smiles at you again, his smile bigger than before, genuine and warm, his eyes smiling just as much.

Smiles.

You notice how he took child-like sized bites of his cookies, looking out the window so innocently. It was almost mind blowing to you that this is the same man with piercings, bright hair and edgy clothes. It was pure irony to you. His bad boy style completely contrasted to the innocence he portrays in his personality.

Never judge a book by its cover.

You smile back at him, “we still have some time left before we have to go back. So mister trouble maker, tell me more about yourself. Other than snooping and stealing, what else do you do for fun? What type of person are you, really?”

He rolled his eyes, a bit annoyed at your last comment but continued to answer. He gets comfortable in his booth, leaning more into the table. His hands are folded together, his head turning back to the window and watching everything happening from the outside.

“Other than being a laid off worker... I like to dance. If I’m not working, studying or even hanging out with some friends, I’m most likely dancing,” He sighs, but this time it wasn’t out of annoyance, almost like he needed this, he needed someone to talk to.

“I grew up in a pretty, uh, weird household,” he says, a questioning tone in his voice.

“Everyone around me had been going into our family business. I was always different though. My family liked numbers when the only numbers I liked where dance numbers. I was always the family “drama” kid. I still don’t know why I’m different, however I don’t hate it. My dancing elevated to something bigger when I met my best friend, Yuta. He entered my Uni after moving from Japan, and we just clicked. We help each other with our dancing, and now we’re in a dance group. We want it to grow and create our own movement, something big and incredible…” He starts losing track, once he notices he clears his throat and sits back a bit.

“Anyways, I study at Uni hoping that it can impress any company. I could go to my parents for that, however I want to be independent. If I’m going to succeed, I want it to come from my hard work not from theres. The only reason why I went to them is for school loans but they got tired of my constant begging, and threw me out unless I follow the steps of the rest of my family. Now, I’m here working for a bookstore I did wrongly of, talking to a girl who thinks I snoop for fun,” he says the last part lightly, jokingly as if it’s just air, but something about it just hits you.

After listening to his story, you grew a soft spot for him. Maybe you pitied him, felt bad for all he has to go through. Maybe, you just relate to him too much and completely understand where he’s coming from, desiring to help him out. You return with a soft smile, sincere and thoughtful. He could tell by your eyes, and you could tell by his.

Determination.

Strength.

A motivator.

“I’m sorry for misjudging you,” you apologize, breaking the silence.

“Its okay, I honestly don’t blame you. You seem like a strong independent person, I admire that,” he gives you that same smile. The same expression he’s been giving you since he found you. It was soft, it was safe. It made you feel warm, but you figure it’s just nothing.

Before you could respond you check your phone, realizing you’re going to be late to your shifts.

“We’re gonna be late, we should go now!” You grabbed your things, throwing out your leftovers in the nearby trash.

“What about your story?” He asks, throwing his leftovers away too.

You grab his hand, rushing each other out the cafe, “my story can wait, I’m an open book, trust me I have no secrets to hide.”

Warmth.

He looks at you while you guys charge back to the store. His eyes lower to the grip you still have on his hand. Something about this makes him smirk. Taeyong felt like he could get used to this now. You were honest, driven, and responsible yet a complete mystery. He admired your skills, and something told him that maybe he wouldn’t hate this job as much as he thought he would.

The rest of your day became extremely weird after your talk with Taeyong. Weird as in your day consisted of constant stares from Taeyong’s way, finding yourself staring back. Whenever you guys bumped into each other, it became really awkward and you kept finding excuses to leave his side. This was noticed a lot by Johnny as well, which ended up with him giving you a talk on how you should be more open with him if you have a crush, however that conversation ended real quick after cutting him off and denying the fact you felt something for Taeyong.

Connection.

This time the store was closing, and Johnny had already left. Your boss depended on you to lock the place up after cleaning. You thought Taeyong would leave with Johnny, but rather he insisted on cleaning up shelves, probably to make up for the messes he made.

After you finished counting the money in the cash register, you rest, laying against the counter and sighing.

“You look... dead,” Taeyong appears in front of you, dusting off his hands and chuckling.

“I’m going to knock out once I get home,” you groan.

“You’re tired already? Awe man, I was hoping you would finally tell me your story,” Taeyong pouts.

You raise a brow at him, “is that why you stayed here all this time, to just listen about my life?”

He nodded like a puppy, sending a weird feeling to your heart.

You clear your throat, “well aren’t you special.”

“Come on, I’m sure the boss wouldn’t mind if you stayed around a bit longer. No one is going to come in anyways,” he jumps onto the counter, causing you to jump at how close he was to you.

Giving up, you lean forward and nod your head. If you were going to spend any time with him might as well take advantage of the time you currently have.

“Well Lee Taeyong, my life is… Uh, kind of similar to yours? Literature runs in my family, it always has. Whether its being a poet, an author, an english teacher, literature has always just been there. When I’m not at school or working here, I’m usually home writing short stories? Journal entries? Articles? I don’t know exactly what they are yet, but I do know I just write whatever comes to my mind. It’s really therapeutic to me. As much as I love reading and writing, I’m not too sure if that’s what I want to do. I see it more as a hobby rather than a lifestyle,” You stare into space, thinking about the many times you’ve thought about this without telling anyone.

A listener.

Patience.

Care.

“I want to travel, write about my adventures. Now that… that seems like fun to me. A job where I can travel wherever I want to go to, and write about my experiences. I know there’s many jobs that do that, but I haven’t finished school yet, and I kind don’t know if I can handle doing that alone. Besides, Johnny and I don’t have a big friend group, which is probably because I’ve always been focused on building a carrier rather than building a social life. I thrive for success in where I’ll be stable, happy, able to support my family. I guess I’ve never realized how much I needed to build my own source group of friends in order to make that happen. Now I’m here, always have been working here. I see a lot of people from my college here, I just don’t know them well enough. What I do know well is, practically every book in this store. I know what a good plot is, a perfect storyline. I learned a lot about writing through these authors which is why I cherish this cheap job a lot,” you smile, looking up at Taeyong with bright eyes.

Reassuring eyes.

His eyes were soft, completely into your words. He understood you, admired you, read you well. He feels comfortable around you. It hasn’t been a long time, but he feels connected to you in which he has never felt before with anyone else. His past relationships haven’t been near this feeling he holds in his heart right now. Especially when you smile while talking about your passions, pout when you’re tired, and express yourself better than any book anyone could pick up.

Realizing he’s been staring, he blinks rapidly, coming back to earth, “I might not dislike you after all Y/N, perhaps you’re kind of cool.”

“Perhaps you’re not bad yourself, Taeyong,” you chuckle, noticing how much darker its gotten outside.

“Oh shit, it's getting dark. We should really lock up,” You remove yourself behind the counter, putting your jacket on and grabbing the keys.

Meanwhile, Taeyong was still sitting there, watching you in awe. He’s never started liking someone within the same week of meeting them, yet you just had a grasp around his heart. After watching you get ready, he jumped off the counter leaving with you.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye till tomorrow,” You finish locking up, standing outside the doors with him.

“Would you mind if I walked you home? It can be really dangerous around this time, I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you,” He stuffs his hands in his pockets nervously.

Safety.

Protection.

“I-I actually would really love the company,” Your smile gave Taeyong the confirmation that all he needed was you by his side right now.

The walk back to your apartment was probably the best memory you will ever cherish. You got to know Taeyong more, and he got to know a lot more about you as well.

Someone who you can create and cherish memories with.

The feeling you both got around each other was incredible. You thought you only read about these type of feelings in fiction. The type of fiction that becomes so popular that they turn into hit movies. The type of stories that leave you dreaming, or the type of poems that only a romantic could only relate to. This feeling was greater than any stanza, any sentence, any metaphor you could possibly create. He was a motivator, a listener. He was the balance you’ve been searching for. Someone who can dream with you and someone who gives your world the best chapters any story can ever have.

The way someone looks at you before realizing they’ll have to spend a second without you.

“I guess this is it,” your frown deepens when you realize you’re home.

The sparks when someone touches you.

Taeyong grabs your hands, inching closer to you. His eyes wander all over you; from your eyes, your nose and your lips. An obvious blush grows upon his pale face.

When one look can say a thousand words.

“Y/N… I don’t know if your story involves an amazing sidekick, but if you don’t mind… I would love to take you out one day. I would love to experience more with you, learn more about you, be apart of that story you picture…”

Knowing that one person can change everything about you any time, any place.

“What I’m trying to say is- what I’m trying to ask is, may I take you out on a date? Can I have a chance? I know from a lot of peoples perspective, I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but if snooping was the biggest mistake I’ve made then it's certainly the best mistake I’ve ever experienced,” His facial expressions are forced into confidence, only deep down is filled with fear. Fearing more rejection.

Butterflies constantly fluttering in the pits of your stomach.

When was the last time you ever smiled this hard? When was the last time you decided to give anyone a chance? This was your life, your future and it’s time for you to start making changes. It’s time for you to open yourself up to more people, accepting these feelings you’ve been suppressing. This was your chance, and  Taeyong was your chance to grow, to love. So you accepted his offer, being the giddiest you have ever been in your life. This was your new chapter, and now things are becoming clearer.

With his excitement jolting through his body, he leans in close to you, planting a gentle yet longing kiss on your forehead. He pulls you in a hug, warming your body and importantly, warming your heart.

Late night exchanges.

This was just the start of building a better future, only you two wouldn’t be facing it alone anymore. Your thoughts then started to make sense to you, it was never about learning about love, it was about building it, experiencing it. That was the missing piece of your plot.

Before he could walk away, in hopes of it becoming the next day already, he turns around to stare once more.

His scent still attached to you, you wave your hand in the air, “just know this won’t get you off the hook, Lee Taeyong!”

“Whatever it takes to spend more time with you, Y/N!” He chuckles while walking away, off to a new beginning, a new chapter.

[crescentmoon223]

Two Worlds Collide Chapter 10

Read it on AO3 | Rated: NC-17 | Stella x Scully

Chapter 10

Stella lurched upright in bed, heart racing, ribs screaming in protest of the sudden movement. She sat there for a moment, sucking in air, waiting for the images behind her eyelids to fade. They would fade. They always did. It was the same dream she’d been having for weeks now, the one where she was walking through the woods outside Belfast, looking for Rose. Walking and looking. Walking and looking…

She could hear Rose calling her name, screaming for help, but she couldn’t find her. She could never find her, never got to her in time. When she finally found the car and popped open the boot, Rose would be laying inside, naked with a rope around her neck. Dead. It was always the same.

Except tonight. Tonight, when she’d opened the boot, it had been Scully laying there with a rope around her neck, eyes glazed with death. Stella shuddered, controlling her breathing so she didn’t wake the real, live Scully beside her, the one who’d worked a very long day and needed to sleep, no matter how badly Stella needed to hold her right now, to assure herself it had just been a dream.

Instead, she reached for the bag she’d left beside the bed. She pulled out her journal—the new one, the one Paul Spector had never touched, the one no one but Stella would ever touch. Sitting in Scully’s darkened bedroom, she jotted down the dream, finding comfort in the ritual, before she lay back down. She snuggled just a bit closer to Scully, close enough to hear the gentle puff of her breath and feel the warmth of her body.

And then, with her nightmare safely tucked away inside the journal beside the bed, she slept. The next time she woke, Scully was puttering quietly around the bedroom, pulling on blue scrubs, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Back to work already?” Stella asked, her voice deep and rusty with sleep.

“Yes. Sorry.” Scully leaned over to kiss her.

Stella gripped her elbows and pulled her down on top of her so she could kiss her properly. “Don’t be sorry.” She wished desperately to be in Scully’s position, tiptoeing off to work at the break of dawn, the prospect of a long and satisfying day ahead of her.

“Maybe we can see each other again tonight?” Scully asked, propping herself up on her elbows to meet Stella’s eyes.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She disentangled herself from Stella with a smile and headed down the stairs.

Stella stood, putting on her clothes. She followed Scully downstairs, where they shared a rushed cup of coffee together before setting out. Scully headed for the tube station to ride to work, and Stella set off toward her flat, deciding a walk would do her good this morning. Thirty minutes later, she walked through her front door.

And then she suppressed the urge to scream. She was so fucking tired of her own company, tired of looking at case files she already knew by heart as she waited for the phone to ring. Scully had been a welcome distraction, but now that she’d started her fellowship, there was nothing left for Stella to do but wait.

She went upstairs and took a long, hot bath, adding a few drops of lavender oil to the water, hoping it would relax her. It didn’t. She dressed and walked downstairs, mentally compiling a list of errands she could run to pass the time. Maybe she’d even buy groceries and cook dinner for Scully again tonight.

There was a new voicemail on her phone, and the number sent a burst of adrenaline through her system. It was a Met number, a call from work. She pressed the phone to her ear, listening as Chief Superintendent Chris George asked her to be in his office at 1400 today. The inquiry had been resolved, he said. She could resume active duty immediately.

“Welcome back, Stella,” he concluded before ending the call.

“Thank you,” she whispered to no one in particular. She marched back upstairs to polish her hair and makeup, making sure no trace of the bruises was visible on her face.

Never let them see your weakness.

Then she gathered the case files she’d been reviewing, stuffed them into her briefcase, and headed for the office. Her arrival was quiet. She kept her head down, crossing the station floor with as little fanfare as possible.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” one of the officers called to her.

She lifted her hand in greeting, not pausing until she’d reached her desk, unnaturally clean after her long absence. She sat behind it, running her hands over its smooth surface as a heady sense of power flowed through her veins. She was back. Belfast was officially, finally behind her. Thank God.

Exhaling deeply, she reached for her briefcase, pulling out the case files she’d spent so many hours pouring over at home, checklists forming in her mind of the actionable tasks to be taken now that she was back. She’d need to schedule meetings with the SIO’s in charge of each case to go over her findings and recommendations.

“Stella.”

She looked up to see DSI Stephen Chen leaning against the doorway to her office, coffee cup in hand and a warm smile creasing his handsome face. Something loosened inside her chest, the unexpected relief of seeing a familiar—and friendly—face. “Stephen.”

“It’s good to have you back,” he said.

“It’s good to be back.” She tapped the file beneath her fingers, feeling more like herself than she had in weeks. “I was actually just about to call you.”

“Yeah?” He stepped into her office and settled himself in the guest chair in front of her desk.

She nodded. “I reviewed the Beaujon case last week while I was at home.”

“Please tell me you found something I missed,” he said. “Because I really want to nail this motherfucker, but I’m starting to feel like I’m chasing my own tail here.”

Her lips quirked. This was one of the reasons she’d always liked Chen. He wasn’t afraid to ask for help, although he was a brilliant detective in his own right. He’d been her protégé when he first joined the Met. She’d taught him, trained him, and now he’d been promoted beside her. Back in the day, he’d helped her put Alissa Pine’s stepfather behind bars. “Nothing you missed, per se, but I do have a suggestion for a new line of inquiry.”

They spent the next thirty minutes going over her suggestions for his case, and when he left her office, she felt good about the progress they’d made. From there, her day flowed relatively smoothly. She met with the other officers whose cases she’d reviewed and observed an interview with a newly discovered witness. Her meeting with her boss went uneventfully, a brief summary of all the ways she’d fucked up in Belfast, a promise not to repeat past mistakes, and a firm handshake as she was officially welcomed back.

Before she’d even realized the time, Scully had texted to say she was leaving the hospital.

I’m actually at the office myself, Stella replied.

Good news? Scully asked.

Yes. Inquiry closed. Officially back in action.

Congratulations! Mind if I stop by?

Stella felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. No.

She started sorting through the files on her desk, updating her notes and organizing things for tomorrow, pleased with the progress she’d made today. A few minutes later, she heard a laugh that made something warm zing through her stomach. She looked up to see Scully at the reception desk, red hair loose over her shoulders, laughing at something Anwar had just said to her.

Stella waved a hand to catch her attention, and Scully met her eyes with a smile. She said something to Anwar, waving as she strode in Stella’s direction. She arrived in Stella’s doorway, still smiling, one hip leaned against the door frame, looking worlds fresher than she had at the end of yesterday’s shift.

“The hospital’s not far from here, and I wanted the chance to see you in action,” she said.

“Satisfied?” Stella felt a smile tug at her lips. She leaned her elbows on her desk, watching Scully closely. She was impatient to kiss her but unwilling to do so here at work, especially unwilling to give her colleagues anything to whisper about on her first day back.

“Yes,” Scully answered, wandering into Stella’s office, eyes roaming over everything in sight.

“Do you miss it?” Stella asked.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But not enough to consider ever coming back.”

“Pathology is your happy medium then, is it?”

“Yeah. I think it is.”

“And how was your second day?”

“Better than the first,” Scully said with a brisk nod. “I’m finding my footing.”

“Good.” Stella stood, shutting down her laptop and grabbing her bag. “Ready?”

Scully nodded, leading the way toward the exit. Several heads turned as they walked past, and Stella wondered what they thought. Friends? Colleagues? She doubted anyone guessed they were lovers, but with her reputation, who knew? Then again, Stella didn’t make a habit of parading her lovers through the office.

“Cut up any bodies today?” she asked as they pushed through the front door onto the street beyond.

“Just one,” Scully told her, wrapping those fingers that had so recently diagnosed death around Stella’s, transferring warmth from one to the other. “Want to grab something to eat? And then, my place or yours? Your choice.”

“Mine,” Stella said automatically, needing the comfort of her own things to keep the positive momentum of the day going.

So, she and Scully stopped at a nearby pub for dinner before heading to Stella’s flat for the night. She’d assumed they wouldn’t see each other as often now that they were both back at work, had assumed that was what she wanted to happen. But as Scully pressed her against the bed, hands roaming beneath Stella’s clothes, she found herself hoping they managed to make this thing between them last for the duration of Scully’s fellowship after all.

***

Over the next two weeks, Stella and Scully solidified their new routines. They were both working long hours now, both comfortably exhausted by the time they made it home in the evening. Often, they’d wind up together either at Scully’s flat or Stella’s in the evening, sharing food and conversation and seemingly endless sex. It had been a very long time since Stella had been part of a relationship like this, the kind of relationship where she found herself checking her phone more often than she should in the office just to see if Scully had texted, where someone cared where she went after work.

This was the kind of relationship that demanded more than she was usually willing to give. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but she wasn’t exactly complaining either. With Scully, she found she was willing to bend in places she usually held rigid. Stella enjoyed being with her, genuinely looked forward to seeing her. She was as smart as she was beautiful, and every bit as dedicated to her career as Stella was. And the sex…

Still, she held a part of herself back, unwilling to give herself over completely to anyone, even Scully. There were nights when she needed to be alone, and there were places where she’d never bend.

And then there was the date looming on the calendar. Stella hadn’t given much thought to her birthday. Generally, she considered it a win if she managed to sneak past it without having to acknowledge the date. Her coworkers knew better than to say anything. Probably, she’d work late that night. It was her birthday, and she could celebrate any way she liked, even if that meant not celebrating at all.

So, why did she feel like she was keeping some kind of dirty secret every time she looked at the calendar and didn’t say anything to Scully? It was just a day. It would pass, like any other day, and Stella would be another year older. Big fucking deal.

Her office phone rang, illuminating Chris George’s extension. She lifted the receiver to her ear. “Sir?”

“Do you have a minute?” her boss asked.

“Of course,” she responded, already closing her laptop. “I’ll be right there.” She put down the phone, picked up her notepad, and crossed the station floor to George’s door, which stood ajar. She rapped her knuckles against it, pausing there.

“Stella, come in.” He gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, sir.” She sat, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded over the notepad in her lap. Surely, he hadn’t called her in to assess her performance. Since her return, she’d helped close two of her colleagues’ open cases and just this Monday had been made SIO on a new homicide. It wasn’t like George to micromanage her, and she hoped he wasn’t about to start now.

“Good, good,” he said, leaning back in his chair and giving her an assessing look. “I have a bit of a favor to ask on behalf of the chief super up in Wembley.”

“Of course.” She relaxed internally as she realized this meeting had nothing to do with what had happened in Belfast.

“They’ve got themselves a problematic case, a rape, as it happens. The primary suspect is a former officer, and there are concerns that things have been mismanaged in his favor.” George sighed, still watching her closely.

Stella straightened in her seat. She was being sent on another review. It was unusual for her to be sent out again so quickly. Usually, she only assisted other jurisdictions a few times a year. It was a welcome chance for her to flex her mental muscles, get more experience under her belt, and untangle a complicated case. She’d never gone out only two weeks after returning to her home office, certainly not after a case as mentally and physically destructive as the one in Belfast had been.

“I know it’s a lot to ask so soon after your return,” he said. “But they requested you specifically. It will be only a week. I’m certain Stephen can cover the Martin case for you until your return after you just helped him close Beaujon.”

“Yes, of course,” she answered automatically. This review had not been presented to her as optional, not that she would have ever considered saying no. Ultimately, it was good that she was still in demand, even after Belfast. So, she tucked away a sense of discomfort she couldn’t quite explain as she made her way back to her office to begin clearing her calendar for next week.

A text from Scully waited on her phone.

Dinner tonight? I’m craving pizza.

Sounds good, Stella replied. She opened her laptop, eyes scanning appointments and meetings that would need to be canceled. Her birthday was next Wednesday, right in the middle of her weeklong trip to Wembley. Well, at least now she had a legitimate excuse not to spend it with Scully.

***

“Oh my God, this is so good,” Scully said around a mouthful of pizza.

“Mm,” Stella agreed, reaching for another slice. Somehow, her white blouse remained unblemished, while Scully could already see three separate dots of sauce on the front of her scrubs.

She’d picked up a pie from their favorite Italian spot on her way home from the hospital, loaded with the works, and between the two of them, they might polish the whole thing off. Nothing beat a long day of fighting crime—or slicing up bodies—to work up an appetite. Stella ate quietly, her expression a million miles away. This in itself wasn’t unusual. She often got lost in her own thoughts, but tonight, she seemed more distracted than usual.

“Tough day?” Scully asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Stella said. She chewed and swallowed another bite before glancing over at Scully. “I’m being sent on another review.”

“Oh?”

Stella nodded. “Next week.”

“That seems…soon,” Scully said carefully. Stella hadn’t even finished healing from the case in Belfast, was only barely back into the swing of things here in London.

“It is,” Stella agreed, lifting a string of cheese and draping it across her pizza slice. “It’s in Wembley, so not too far from home. Far enough to warrant a hotel stay, though, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll miss you,” Scully blurted, covering her admission with a smile as Stella gave her a sharp look. It was true, though. Her time in London was already beginning to feel short, and she’d hoped to spend every bit of it with Stella.

“It’s only for a week.”

“Okay,” Scully said, taking another bite of pizza. They fell back to eating in silence, and Scully found herself remembering the headlines from Belfast, the ones about Stella and that officer, James Olson. She choked on a bite of pizza, coughing as she reached for her water glass.

“Are you all right?” Stella asked, eyes narrowed as if she was asking about more than Scully’s airway.

“Fine,” she muttered, taking a long drink of water. She was the one who’d suggested a casual relationship. Technically, Stella could fuck anyone she wanted to while she was away on her review, or even here in London. But that didn’t feel okay, not anymore. Maybe it never had. Scully was loyal to her core, and maybe she had no right to ask for it in return, but she didn’t want to share Stella with anyone else, not for the two short months she would be here in London. She fidgeted with her slice of pizza, watching as the toppings slid one by one back into the box in a gloppy mess.

“Dana,” Stella said, a warning in her tone.

Scully looked at her helplessly. She was so bad at this. She had no idea how to broach the subject and was uncomfortably aware Stella might bristle or even bolt once she realized was Scully was asking. But she’d spent too many years not speaking up for what she wanted in a relationship and then being disappointed when she didn’t receive it. Not this time. “I just…I don’t really know how to say this, but…it’s just you and me, right? Even when you’re away?”

Stella froze with the pizza halfway to her mouth, and for a moment, they stared at each other in loaded silence. A glob of sauce dripped onto Stella’s skirt, and for some reason, Scully had the irrational urge to laugh. Instead, she pushed a paper towel into Stella’s free hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“The skirt is black,” Stella said as she dabbed at the sauce. “Hard to stain.”

“That’s not what I was sorry for.”

Stella’s chin went up, and Scully’s stomach bottomed out. She’d overstepped. Friends who fuck. Her ridiculous label for their relationship certainly hadn’t implied any kind of exclusivity.

Stella sat ramrod straight across from her as a war raged in the turbulent depths of her eyes. And then, she nodded slightly. “Just you and me, for however long this lasts.”

“Really?” Scully couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

A muscle in Stella’s jaw twitched. “I am capable of restraint when it’s asked of me.”

Scully set down what remained of her pizza and took Stella’s half-eaten slice, tossing it carelessly into the open box before pushing her flat on the couch, covering Stella’s body with her own. She brought her lips to Stella’s for a bruising kiss. “Exclusivity, yes, but I never asked you for restraint.”