#people say the world has changed but thankfully between you and me nothing's changed

[ymechi]

Chatlog Part 1

author's note: this might turn into a series I am unsure I hope you guys enjoy this. Once again English is not my first language I apologize for the writing. -This series is about how people in teyvat see the conversation between the creator and their companion for us irl it's just chat messages in co-op. -Spoilers for the recent archon quest 4.1 -GN reader (might change that in the future) TW: nothing so far usual cult stuff

Ajax grimaced and glared at the Gardes holding him down. The posh marble floor reflected his annoyed visage and he had half a mind to destroy the expensive flooring. The Gardes were speaking about him as if he was not there listening to everything they said. They paid him no mind talking about things like the Fortress, the Oratrice, and arrest. Ajax paid them no mind he was far too annoyed to listen in. This vacation was getting worse and worse.

Then the traveler came, no it was their grace.

Suddenly this moment was more tolerable than it would not have been. The Gardes talking quieted and everyone was hypervigilant of the traveler. It seems their Grace was not alone, next to them their companion was walking behind them.

Their grace came closer it was then Ajax realized they were coming towards him. His breath hitched. He felt blood rush towards his face, he did not want to be seen by their grace like this. Weak and bound against his will where there was nothing he could do.

The traveler- no their grace stood now in front of him. Their face was neutral no indication of what they thought. The sun shined on the traveler in a golden glow. Their ethereal aura swept over the room like a warm blanket and his knees almost buckled over to kneel.

Suddenly their grace pointed the traveler's finger towards him and the traveler's face changed into a shit-eating grin.

"Ha ha! The evil fatui got arrested. Get rekt!"

Ajax wanted to cry.

"Gee no need to beat a dead horse," said the companion of their Grace through another's body Ajax could not name who.

Ajax wanted to protest that the creator could say whatever they wanted but the system binding them interfered and petrified his body. It was not just him thankfully everyone in this world seemed to be still and unable to acknowledge their Grace, except for their companion. How unfair.

The traveler who was possessed by their grace laughed and how lovely that sounded.

"Hey do you think we can visit him and prison and then," they laughed again, "feed him on a dog bowl?"

"That is oddly specific and sadistic."

"Please it would be so funny," said their grace and laughed.

If it meant that he would be mocked and humiliated to hear their grace laugh so carefree he would eat on a dog bowl and more. Ajax had no shame in that but what he found shameful, which he wanted to bury, was the feeling of wanting to be taken care of and worried over.

*Look at me they are imprisoning me against my will for something I did not do.*

Ajax knew he did not have that privilege or was deserving of it.

"Come let's go to the domain already," their Grace's companion said and went ahead to leave.

Their Grace followed after their companions and it seemed that their brief interaction would end. Ajax felt slightly helpless unable to do anything. Just as their creator was about to leave their grace turned around.

"By the way, I will most likely bust you out of prison stay put for the next one and a half months!"

Ajax looked up with a grin after hearing the declaration, by then their grace had already left.

"You heard that? our grace will be breaking me out," Ajax said with a challenging grin to the Gardes.

Said Gardes looked confused and pale-faced.

.

.

.

One and a half month later in the Fortress of Meropide the creator themselves came to the facility.

"CHILDE WHERE ARE YOU I TOLD YOU TO ####### STAY PUT!!!"

[wambsgansshoelaces]

hiiii can you write one where reader is always serving as a waitress at the waystar parties and become fuck buddies with shiv but when shiv catch feelings when they're several months later doing this she finds out that reader is a single mom (she has a daughter) and they have a huge fight and "breakup". I need all the drama that comes with it 🙏 ik with shiv being a mess and being mean as hell things will escalate quickly 😂

-🫀

Mind, Body, Soul

Siobhan Roy x single mom!Reader

Oneshot

Summary: what originally was purely physical takes becomes something better.

okay anon I had to change your plot a bit to make everything work but I really hope I pulled through this time!! Idk why I’m not too sure about this one, I just feel like it’s one of my sloppier works. Regardless, I hope you enjoy x, thank you so much for your request, I love you <3

Word Count: 2.987k

Life was unpredictable.

That’s how you’d ended up with your daughter. You love her to bits, and she’s absolutely your world, but she wasn’t exactly planned. Because of that, her father had exited your life as soon as he’d entered it. You didn’t feel too bad about it; the way you saw it, you’d dodged a massive bullet.

She’s four now, and finally able to go to daycare without issue. You finally have more time to yourself. Thankfully, your job wasn’t that demanding, but it paid you well. You were content with what you had. Your daughter, a good job. You feel like you don’t really need anything else.

You’ve been single for a really, really long time. After your last heartbreak, you weren’t exactly out and about, seeking anything out. Deep down, you craved something real. Something actually substantial; that feeling that you’re with the one.

You’d met her at a work dinner. She radiated opulence, something that usually repelled you. Not this time. Maybe it was something else about her. Something in your subconscious, the work of an alternate universe, just something pulling the two of you together.

She’d sidled up to you, sly smile spread on her face.

The rest was history.

Rather to your disappointment, she’d kept you after your first time together and told you you were strictly fuck buddies. Nothing more. Despite being let down, you thought it best.

Time passed. You started off slow, seeing each other every so often. Then, you’d see her whenever physically possible. Not just to enjoy yourselves, but you spend time with each other. You found yourselves curled together, cuddling on the couch while she went through emails.

She’d admitted that she’d just come out of a messy relationship, much like you. You find that you’re both extremely similar; you’re both driven, ambitious. You feel at home with her. You feel so relaxed. You hope she feels the same, but you know she doesn’t. You’re strictly a fling to her- nothing more.

At least, you thought so.

You have one of these conversations when you’re sprawled out on her couch, her leaning against the doorway to her bedroom.

“Listen,” she begins, arms crossed over her chest.

“What is it, Siobhan?” you ask, smirk playing on your lips. She huffs, a cute pout developing on her face. “Ants in your pants?”

“What… What does that even mean? Never mind that. Fucking weirdo,” she mutters, before continuing. “I just want to make something clear. You and I aren’t an item. I’m free to see other people, same as you. No hard feelings or anything. I’m just living, you know?”

You shrug. “We’ve had this conversation before.” From your perspective, it looks like she’s trying to put distance between the two of you. “If you don’t want to see me anymore, just say so. Like you keep saying, no hard feelings.”

Shiv’s nose wrinkles. “What? No, I still want to see you. You’re the best sex I’ve ever had.”

You laugh. “I’m strictly pleasure, huh?”

She opens her mouth to say something, then presses her lips together. “Yeah, you are.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say.” You push yourself into an upright position. “You know you like me more than that.”

Shiv turns away from you, flipping you off over her shoulder.

One night, your daughter’s staying the night with a relative. You go to see Shiv, and to your surprise, she invited you to stay the night.

You’re curled together in bed, rather domestically, you think, her head tucked into the crook of your neck. She lightly presses kisses along your skin, leaving spots wet and red. Not that you minded at all.

“We should do something tomorrow,” she mumurs to you.

“Like what? Fuck again?” you ask, feeling her fingers trace up your hip, up your side.

“I dunno. Maybe. But something else. Something fun. I need a break from work, and I want good company.”

“What happened to strictly pleasure?” you tease, shifting so that she’s draped on top of you.

“Nothing,” she mumbles. “We can still have fun outside of fucking.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” she hums into your neck, leg coming around your waist. Bare skin on bare skin- you feel like you’re in heaven. Your hand finds her ass, helping her adjust and get comfortably. You also can’t stop yourself from giving it a small squeeze, eliciting a rare giggle from Shiv.

“Can’t. My girl has a birthday party tomorrow. It’s a whole fucking dusk-til-dawn ordeal.”

Abruptly, she sits up, squinting at you.

“You’re seeing someone else?” she asks incredulously, brow furrowing.

“What? No, my daughter. Didn’t I tell you?”

She pulls herself off of you completely. “A daughter? Like, a human child?”

You nod slowly. “She’s four.”

“You didn’t fucking tell me that!”

Now you’re also sitting up. “What, is that going to change things?”

Shiv slides off the bed, pulling a robe on. “Yes, it changes things!”

You scoff. “Does it really?”

“You kept something so massive from me! How can I keep seeing you? What else would you be hiding?”

“You’re serious? You’re being serious?” When she gives no response, making her way into the bathroom, you pull your previously strewn clothes on from off the floor. “What’s your fucking deal? You do nothing but insist you can never see me than more than sex, so what’s the problem?” you shout bitterly.

“Fuck off!” is the only response.

You let her do whatever it is she’s doing in the bathroom and gather your things. She’s being ridiculous, and any sort of feelings you’d caught for her are painfully ripped from your chest. You call an Uber, and before you know it, you’re back home.

You’re angry, confused, upset.

Your phone pings with a message.

where’d you go?

fucked off, like you asked.

wtf?

why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?

i thought i did

besides, what’s it matter to you? you want nothing to do with me outside of being your fuck buddy

that’s not something you keep from people

you’re being fucking insane

Shiv doesn’t respond to you after.

You can’t harp on it for long. You have shit to do. Your daughter gets dropped off the next morning, and you greet her with a kiss and a hug. When you smile at her over the counter while you scramble eggs, she frowns.

She sees the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Why’s Mommy sad?” She rests her head on her little hands, glancing up at you, doe eyes soft and concerned.

“Oh, nothing.”

Her frown deepens. “Why won’t you tell me? I want to help Mommy.”

You sigh, scraping eggs into her tiny bowl before setting it in front of her with a fork. She begins eating, cautious to chew with her mouth close like you so often remind her. “Well,” you say carefully, “Mommy’s having issues with a friend.”

“Is It making you sad?” she asks around a mouthful of egg.

“Chew with your mouth shut, you little piggy,” you say playfully, reaching over to pinch her cheek. “And it does,” you add a moment later, rather deflated.

Your daughter wriggles out of her chair, small feet pattering against your hardwood floors as she rounds the counter to wrap your arms around you where she could reach. Your hand immediately goes to her head and strokes gently, and you can’t help but smile.

“It’s sad when my friends don’t want to play. I’ll play with you instead!”

You lean down to plant a kiss on her hairline. “Thank you, cutie. You’re such a sweet girl.” She grins up at you, arms stretching up above her head. Getting the point, you stoop over and hoist her up into your arms, her giggling all the while.

𖥔 ݁ ˖

Siobhan Roy could only take two days away from you. To be clear, you’d never actually had her over at your place. It just felt inappropriate, what with your daughter and all.

She does, however, know where you work.

You can’t remember how it came up in conversation, but it did, and you were sure it did because she was standing outside your office, hands clasped behind her back. You wave her in, trying to not let anything show on your face.

Wordlessly, she sets a square, velvet box onto your desk in front of you.

“I remember you talking about how your favorite bracelet broke,” Shiv says quietly, almost ashamed. “It’s not the same, but it’s something.”

Hesitantly, you reach for the box and thumb off the lid. The bracelet is gorgeous- she’s noticed which metal you wore and got you an awfully expensive, much nicer, much more durable version of the bracelet you’d accidentally snapped when it snagged on a zipper of your daughter’s clothing.

“What’s this for?” you ask nonchalantly. You don’t plan on accepting it after the pointless argument you’d had. She’d made it painfully clear that the two of you would never actually be anything serious. Any reminder of her just made your chest hurt. It’s a deep rooted issue of yours, and you know it. You’d been so agonizingly lonely all your life. You yearned for connection, something real, something pure. Everything you tried, every relationship attempted, it all ended the exact same way. They found someone better, they discarded you, you went back home broken hearted.

“Um, for you.”

“Mm.” You’re not really paying attention, but you catch her shutting the blind to the door in your periphery. You’ve never really seen her like this before, all jittery and nervous. She sits in one of the chairs facing your desk and folds her hands into her lap. “Can I help?” you ask stiffly.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” she blurts, pausing before she continues. “I really, really want you. Not just physically. Fuck, that’s not what this is about. I’m sorry that that’s what we keep making this about.”

“What you keep making this about,” you correct, leaning back into your chair. She bites back a retort, you can tell. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

Shiv takes a steadying breath, and for a moment, you feel a bit bad for pushing her buttons. “I… I want to commit. To you.”

“Where’d this come from?”

Her gaze flickers from you to her lap then back to you again. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s just, some nights you’d leave, and I wouldn’t feel detached. I’d miss you. I do miss you. You… you make everything around me better, you make it brighter.” She looks back down, fiddling with her own fingers. “I was just too stupid and self absorbed to see it. And scared. Fucking horrified.”

You don’t know what to say for a while. “You’re suspiciously self-aware,” you say hoarsely, not quite believing what you’d heard.

She can tell. “I’m so fucking serious. I’m past the point of just wanting you for your body.”

You reach back for the box, feeling up the delicate bracelet. “So how do you want to do this? We have shit to sort out if we want this to work,” you reply.

Shiv shrugs. “Just let me try.”

“If we do this, I want you to take this seriously,” you say lowly. “I won’t fucking stand for it if I catch you still going out with other people. If we’re together, we’re together.”

She laughs, an airy, mirthless sound. “I stopped seeing other people the fourth time you came over. I’m yours, already. Mind, body, soul. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re just so..,” she trails off, gesturing vaguely at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

She looks up at you attentively. “Always. I’m an open book.”

“Why’d you overreact?”

She pauses. “I don’t think I did.”

You sigh. “Nothing’s going to work if you keep going like that.”

“You didn’t tell me,” she insists. “That’s something important.”

“Siobhan, I was under the impression I was just a good fuck. Regardless of if I told you or not, what would that have changed?”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, averting her eyes. She takes a moment to think. “I think I was too in my head,” she admits. “In my head, we’re already the cutest girlfriends. And then you tack on your daughter, and I don’t want to just… ignore her, you know? I guess it was just, you know, reality hitting me. And me realizing that I didn’t really care that you have a kid. I want… I want to be with you, to help with her.”

You can feel the heat rushing to your face, your gaze locked with hers. “I… I don’t know what to say. That’s… a lot, Shiv.”

“Just… promise you’ll think about it?” she asks, uncharacteristically nervous.

You shake your head. “No, no. I already know what I want.”

Abruptly, you push yourself up from your chair and quickly round the desk. You brace your knee on the cushion of Shiv’s chair, right by her thigh, and take her jaw and crash your lips against hers. It’s your first real kiss, one not just thrown around during sex, and it’s rough, needy.

She responds the minute your mouths connect, kissing you back with an equal fervor. You deepen the kiss, your other hand fluttering to her chin to tip her head back. She makes a happy, contented noise, lips working against yours. Her hands are braced on your torso, just above your hips. Her fingers scrabble for purchase on the fabric of your clothing.

When she pulls away, her lips are slightly puffed up. Yours probably look the same, and you can’t help but smile at the thought. Shiv’s hands drift down to your waist, letting her fingers trace mindless patterns into your skin.

“You’re very pretty,” she murmurs up to you. “Especially when you’re all worked up like this.”

Your smile splits into a grin and you push off her chair. “Asshole.”

“What did I say?” she exclaims, expression matching yours. “I was just praising my sweet, gorgeous girl.”

“I never agreed to you calling me that,” you point out, going to perch on the edge of your desk. Her face falls, and you scramble to recover. “I’m just saying,” you amend quickly, “that I want you to ask me. For real.”

Shiv gets out of her seat, trapping you where you sit, planting her hands on either side of yours and keeping her eyes focused on yours. “Will you be my girlfriend? Can I be your girlfriend?”

“On one condition,” you say, smile playing on your lips.

She fakes a pout, her face only inches away from yours. You lean forward, brushing your lips against hers. “No silly shit.”

“Of course not.” She lets out a breath, and you can feel it stutter along your skin. “I’m all for you. I don’t know what it is, I just know I’m all fucking yours.”

𖥔 ݁ ˖

Life is easy after you and Shiv get together.

Your ridiculous fight is forgotten, and she’s the most perfect, most attentive lover. The first half-year is a dream. She brings you gifts, invites you over if your daughter is with other family, texts you day in and day out. When she’s not working, she’s pacing your office, talking your ear off about a show she’d begrudgingly watched without you, catching you up to speed so you could watch together the minute you could.

As time continues to leak away from you, the flowers and jewelry keep arriving to your doorstep. She adores spoiling you rotten- she never lets you say anything about it.

But then, the gifts start coming in pairs. One for you, one for your daughter.

A toy kitchenette, a play vanity, princess dresses and heels, play makeup. Shiv hasn’t met her yet, but it doesn’t stop her. As you near and suddenly pass your one year anniversary, you realize you’re so head over heels for Siobhan and you see no future without her in it.

For the first time in your relationship, you bring her home with you.

She hovers behind you as you unlock the door. “What happens if she doesn’t like me?” she asks nervously, voice barely below a whisper.

“Baby, once she realizes you’re the one pay rolling her fantasy Barbie world, she’d kill me in exchange for you.” Before you open the door, you look over your shoulder at her. “Besides, she’d love you regardless.”

Since your daughter is five now, she’s finally started school. It hurt you physically watching her grow and having her leave every day. Shiv had been by your side every single day, wiping away your tears and helping with errands even though you were perfectly capable.

“The bus comes at one?” she asks, following you inside.

You hum your yes, going to make your daughter her afternoon snack as Shiv tentatively sits on the couch, crossing her socked feet under her.

Before you know it, the place is filled with both their giggles as Siobhan Roy whirls your daughter around as if she were an airplane.

𖥔 ݁ ˖

You watch as Shiv sits, cross legged, threading flowers into your daughter’s hair. “You’ll be the prettiest flower girl to walk the aisle,” she murmurs, eliciting a giddy laugh from your daughter.

You’d both forgone the entire first look thing. You want to get ready together, spend time together. It felt more intimate, it brought you even closer together. Once your daughter’s hair was done and she’d ran out of the bridal suite, gone out to play, Shiv comes over to you, silk robe clinging to her body.

“I know I’m not supposed to give you this yet,” she says, turning a beautiful, dainty ring with her fingers. “But I wanted to show you it. I’m just so proud.”

She takes your hand, stroking your knuckles, and holds the ring so you can see an engravement on it’s inner part.

Mind, body, soul.

[alpaca-clouds]

Werebear Halsin

I know this theory is not exactly new. But I still gotta say: It is intended reading that Halsin is a werebear, isn't it? Because, I mean, reading through the Forgotten Realms Wikipage on Werebears...

Werebear humanoid forms were often large, heavily muscled, and covered in hair.

Halsin. An elf build like a brickhouse, which very much is not typical for elves. Also, Halsin, who has body hair. Something that elves very much do not have - and Larian is aware of the fact, given that they (thankfully) changed Cazador's design between EA and Full Release because of it.

It is especially the latter point that is so clear. I mean, while elves are usually of a smaller, thinner build, nothing in lore says that you cannot have a brickhouse elf. But lore is very clear on the fact that elves do not have body hair.

So... There has to be a reason for that, right?

They saw themselves as the guardians standing between the natural world and civilization.

I mean, nothing much to say here. But this one also checks out with Halsin. It checks out quite well, in fact. It would also kind of explain why he gets to antsy in the big city. Like, druids in general tend to not love big cities, but Halsin really seems to hate it, right?

Werebears were mostly likely to become rangers, druids or wildlife priests.

Again, yeah. He is a druid, so it checks out.

And then there is of course the game, which implies several times that Halsin in his bear form is a lot more savage. (See how he speaks in the goblin camp - but also during the Romance Scene.) And more notably: He also clearly says that at times he cannot help but transform into the bear form. And that one is to me the dead giveaway.

Because I have not yet heard of a druid, who could not control their wildshape in that way. Are there canonical druids who prefer running around in one or another wildshape form? Absolutely. Are there canonical druids who got stuck in wildshape? Yes. But druids, who have this one wildshape that wants to take over and tries to make them transform? No. That is just not a thing, as far as I am aware.

Now, this leaves open quite a few questions of course. On one hand I do wonder, why there is no dialogue on it. Because... the evidence for it is so clear that I just cannot think of another reason for those things to be there. But he never talks about it, really. Not even if you romance him. Which is sad.

Then there is also the question why he has decided to still live among people, while werebears are usually quite solitary. Though I would argue that is just the person he is.

Of course, there also is the question on whether he was bitten, or whether he was born a werebear. Which... You know, it could be either way. Personally I would go with the headcanon that he was in fact born a werebear. Even though that makes another heartbreaking thing true: Werebear moms usually leave their young when they are around 8 years old and can (at least in bear form) fend for themselves. Which would explain why the matter of his family is always evaded.

I personally do assume that he does not talk about it, because a lot of people are prejudiced against shapechangers, and especially lycanthropes. And the druid stuff gives him the perfect cover. "Oh, no, I am not a werebear. I am just a druid who wildshapes. I just so happen to prefer wildshaping into a bear 99% of the time." And while I assume that osme of the other druids will have put two and two together, nobody ever calls him out on it? I don't know.

But it also makes for some good basis for a few angsty stories. Especially given the implied lack of self-control, he struggles with from time to time, and also just... the stuff he probably had to struggle with while growing up. (And yes, I wrote about his mother leaving him early in this story.) Really, we should all realize the full potential of Halsin-Angst!

[cloudcountry]

almost.

Genre/Tropes: Childhood Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Royalty AU, Forbidden Love.

Summary: You've fallen for your personal guard, childhood friend, and closet confidante, Deuce Spade. Except you're royalty, and royalty do not marry lowly guards.

Author's Comments: WHEREVER I WRITE FOR DEUCE ITS LIKE 4K WORDS. love that guy, he's so neat. also this was inspired by ceroro's delighted guidance which is a royal au fic with rook!! i wrote this in like a day so this is unedited LMAO

~~~~~

You often fell victim to many bizarre dreams.

They usually centered around the legends your subjects kept alive over centuries. Tales of monsters in the dark parts of the forest and shadows that would swallow you whole. Stories that often frightened you, as the world of Twisted Wonderland was an unpredictable one. There was no telling when something like that would happen, and you would be in danger because of it. Thankfully it wasn’t your responsibility to worry anymore, though your previously self-centered worry now had another target.

Deuce Spade, your childhood friend and appointed guard.

He used to be able to run into your room whenever you screamed and comfort you by waving his hands around and yelling about how he’d beat up anyone that dared to harm you. His mother would often scold him for his violent behavior, but if nothing else it did make you feel safer. Eventually, you were even able to persuade your father to place his family’s room right across from yours, where you and Deuce could hang out whenever you wanted.

If only things could still be that way.

Instead of having dreams about monsters in the woods, you have dreams of faceless royalty vying for your hand and towering over you, their faces splitting open in sickeningly sweet grins as they grab at you. You always seem to wake up in a cold sweat from those, clutching your blankets to your chest like a lifeline. Tonight is one of those nights.

You slip out of bed and throw the bed sheets to the side, the slippers resting at the foot of your bed shielding your feet from the cold. It isn’t hard to navigate your room in the almost complete darkness, and you reach the door in no time flat. The guard currently posted outside your door is not Deuce Spade, but he doesn’t question it when you creep across the hall so he’s fine enough. He just follows you, stopping outside the Spade family’s door without a single indicator as to what he’s thinking.

It doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m pathetic. Deuce doesn’t. His opinion is the only one I care about.

You twist the doorknob and the door swings open. It isn’t safe, you think, but you know people like Deuce and his mother can’t afford to have the amount of protection that you do. The polished wood groans as you step into the room, and you freeze with a wince. Deuce is a notoriously light sleeper, and you just woke him up.

The door swings shut behind you, and shuts with a soft click.

You’re left in darkness.

“Deuce?” you whisper, creeping towards the edge of his bed and crouching down to his level, “Deuce, it’s me.”

“My Liege...why are you awake?” he mumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes, “Did you have another dream?”

“Mhm.” you hum, grasping at the corner of the bedsheets and tugging them off his body, “Let me in. I can’t sleep in my room.”

Deuce sighs and complies, scooting over so you have room. You plop down beside him and feel a wave of warmth wash over you. He takes extra care in tucking you in but turns around so his back is facing you once he’s done making you comfortable. You feel a stab of rejection in your chest but try not to dwell on it.

His duty is not to care about you.

“Goodnight, My Liege.” he whispers, the sound insignificant to him but worth more than a thousand diamonds to you.

“Yes, goodnight Deuce.” you say, shutting your eyes.

It’s disappointing that the distance between you hasn’t changed, even though you snuck across the hall for him.

The next morning you wake up early when Deuce has already slipped out of bed to begin his rounds. You blink slowly, wishing you could have savored sleeping with him a little bit longer. A frantic knocking on the door spurs you awake, and Deuce’s mother rushes to answer it. It’s the guard that covers your late night shift, and by the look on his face, he'd been searching frantically for you. You almost feel bad.

You smile at Deuce’s mother and thank her for letting you stay over so often, but she just shakes her head and bows to you. If the guard wasn’t here, you know full well she would have swept you into her arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You’re convinced Deuce’s mom is the greatest woman alive.

You exit the safe haven you’ve built up over the years, stepping back into your royal chambers. There’s only so much you can do to hide your exhaustion when you see a few handmaidens and a tailor standing in front of your giant full-length mirror.

Frankly, it’s disturbing how prophetic your dreams can be sometimes.

As the handmaidens talk, it occurs to you that your father must have announced a ball to be held in honor of something or other (not that he ever needs a reason to party anyways, as he will always find a way to throw a party more extravagant than the last.) There’s no doubt in your mind that many suitors from neighboring kingdoms will come to vie for your hand, and it doesn’t matter if your eyes are locked onto one of your guards or not because love is politics in royalty.

There’s a handmaiden currently fluttering around you, and she’s assisting the tailor your father called over to fix an outfit for you. Even though you resent the idea of participating, you can’t help but admire the fabrics that you’ll be wearing for this event. You can’t admire them freely though, because it just so happens that right now is when the late-night guard switches with the early-morning one, and that early-morning guard is none other than Deuce Spade. To make matters worse, because of the guests in your room, he’s stationed inside (which wouldn’t be so bad if you were alone, but if that was the case he would never enter just because.) The thought of him seeing you in all this gaudy fabric makes you feel shameful, even if they are beautiful swatches.

“Oh, My Liege...” one of the handmaidens sighs, clasping her hands in front of her chest as she looks at you adoringly, “You’re going to look so lovely! Everyone will be tripping over their feet to earn a dance with you!”

You don’t look at Deuce. You don’t think you can right now.

“Oh, you think so?” you say mildly, absentmindedly continuing the conversation.

She nods a little too enthusiastically, and you hold back a sigh. Why is everyone so eager to marry you off to the first royal heir that comes knocking on your door?

“Oh, absolutely My Liege!” she beams, her round cheeks turning pink with pride, “I’ve been working for your father for a long time, I’m certain he’ll establish the best future for you!”

Economically, maybe. But emotionally? His understanding is lacking.

“I’m delighted that he’s going such lengths for me. Really, I’m spoiled.” you say through clenched teeth, and you hope your grimace passes for a smile.

Judging by the way the handmaiden is nodding vigorously with hums of approval flooding from your mouth, you’re pretty sure you’ve nailed it.

It’s so hard to ignore Deuce like he’s just another guard, like he isn’t the only one in this palace you can trust. Most of what occurs here is for appearances, but he’s never cared about that sort of thing. Even when you fell in the mud or scraped your knees or got a papercut he never scolded you for being out of line or not acting like royalty. There was no speech about you being the next ruler, he just fixed you up and vowed to protect you better next time. You always thought that was funny when you were a kid, but now you yearn for those days.

Things were so much better back then.

Brow furrowing with sorrow, you can’t help but look at Deuce in the mirror.

Your breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes unexpectedly lock with a beautiful pair that look just like the ocean on a sunny day. He’s looking at you.

Your opinion is the only one that matters is what you try to convey to him using only your pleading gaze. I don’t care what the other royals think is pretty or what my father thinks or even the handmaidens. I just want you to think I’m lovely.

You don’t know if he gets the message.

♠️

The ball is in full swing, and you feel like you might pass out.

You put in a formal request for Deuce Spade to be your bodyguard for the event, and you’re glad it was granted. Your mind is running a mile a minute not because you want to impress the dazzling royalty that are spinning around the palace’s ballroom in dresses and suits that would blind a man, but because you keep trying to come up with excuses to leave with Deuce. You don’t want to be here and he knows it, but he can’t do anything about it.

“Oh, I’m so warm.” you sigh loudly, and you feel a sense of accomplishment when Deuce snorts quietly beside you, “I must take a break, I’m sorry Prince Rosehearts.”

“That’s quite alright.” the young boy bows, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here as who you can only assume to be his mother is breathing down his neck, “Take your time, you highness.”

You wave, forcing a smile as you make your way to the gardens. A spike of irritation stabs you at the base of your throat when another prince jumps in your way, his expression bright and happy. He immediately starts yapping about how nice the festivities are as his companion stares into space with a harsh glare. You shiver and pray that glare will never be directed at you tonight.

“Kalim, I’m sure they want to rest.” the boy beside him says flatly, “Why don’t you go sample their drinks, since you’ve already had your fill of their food?”

Wow. That’s the first time you’ve seen a prince and his companion with such a close relationship. They must be childhood friends.

Just like you and Deuce, and yet not like you two at all.

“Oh! That’s a good idea, Jamil!” he laughs, waving goodbye to you with a flimsy bow, “I’ll see you later, your highness!”

You grimace and wave back, hoping that’s not the man your father will have you marry. He seems to be far too much to handle and not quite hard-working enough.

Or maybe you just need to stop comparing every man you see to Deuce.

With the Asim heir out of the way, you continue to the gardens without another interruption. Your shoulders sag with barely masked relief as the flowering bushes come into view. They’re the same bushes you fell into far too many times in your childhood, and the same bushes Deuce and his mother had to fish you out of. 

“Aren’t these flowers so pretty?” you ask, slotting a stem between your ring and middle finger. You cup it with reverence, as it’s one of the only tangible things you have from a better time. One of the only things you were allowed to touch.

You look over at Deuce.

“Yeah, they are.” he sighs, kneeling next to you with a soft smile, “They always did remind me of you.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words, and you feel your face heating up. There was nothing any of those royals could give you that would ever take your heart back from the boy in front of you. You turn your head to face him, staring into those deep blue eyes. He stares back, a pink flush steadily growing darker on his cheeks. You wet your lips and lean a bit closer because this moment is right, you two are alone, and you don’t think you’ll ever get this chance again.

He stands up and clears his throat. Your approach stalls halfway, and you feel as though you were just doused in icy cold water.

“I’m sorry, My Liege.” he mumbled, avoiding your questioning gaze with bright red cheeks, “I...I can’t. It’s improper.”

“Deuce?” you whisper, the sound so weak and pathetic that you hate yourself for it.

“Um...My Liege, please get up. It’s...not fit for royalty to be crouched on the ground like that.” he says, the words sounding so wrong on his tongue.

It doesn’t change the fact that he said them.

“Deuce...do you hate me?” you ask, shakily rising to your knees, “You’re always so distant when we used to be so close, and when I climbed into bed with you last night you didn’t even look at me before you fell asleep. Please just tell me if there’s nothing there because I don’t think I can stand to have this uncertainty surrounding us.”

You’re also certain that a broken heart would make it even worse for you.

“I can’t let...feelings get in the way of protecting you-”

Whose feelings?

“-because you’re...My Liege, and it’s my duty to protect you-”

I want to be more!

“-so I can’t act...I...I’m sorry.”

“Can’t act on what?” you persist, clasping your hands over your heart as if that will protect it.

“I can’t say.” Deuce looks away, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

It doesn’t stop you from pushing.

“Why not? You used to say exactly how you felt when we were kids. Does being royalty make it that difficult...?” you take a step back, braced for the worst.

“It does, My Liege.” he confesses, and a sickening feeling wells up in your stomach.

Your heart shatters in your chest.

Your head is spinning as you stumble away from Deuce with a grimace on your face, unable to focus on anything except for the mixture of emotions you feel.

“I...I need to think.” you mumble, stumbling over yourself as you turn on your heel and start to run.

“My Liege!” Deuce yells after you, taking off behind you.

“Don’t follow me! That’s an order!” you cry out, throwing yourself around a tree trunk and through a patch of briars. Your precious clothing was torn in seconds, the fabric catching and yanking on the thorns.

You kept running.

Deuce’s footsteps were still trailing you, but he hadn’t caught you yet. You wished he was following you because he was worried, not because it was his duty to keep you safe. You wished you two could still have fun together. You wished he cared about you like he used to. You wished you could spend your days with him and his mother inside his room, playing silly games and eating those delicious chicken sandwiches she made.

You wished you could be a Spade.

A loud crunch is the last thing you hear before you go plummeting into a creek, your formal wear doing nothing to protect you from the shocking cold. A sharp pain travels up your ankle and you curse whatever divine force made you sprain it.

You are suddenly keenly aware of every sound within these woods. the slight moment of a branch on your left, the whispering of the tree’s leaves on your right, and the skittering sound of leaves billowing around the woods. A sudden fear overtakes you, a foreign emotion that you never had to face due to your upbringing. 

“Deuce?” you call out, feeling like an injured child again, “Deuce!”

“My Liege!” he calls back, and you feel relief rushing through you when he bursts through the greenery hiding you from view.

Your previous heartbreak is immediately forgotten when his expression of pure fear melts into relief. He splashes towards you without a care in the world for his pristine uniform and gathers you up in his arms with one swoop. You gasp as you’re crushed against him, his hand cradling the back of your head like he’s never planning on letting you go.

“Shit, don’t ever do that again. I’m sorry I hurt you that much. I thought I was saying the right things and that I was protecting you, but-” he gasps for breath, holding you closer and closer until there’s no space left between your bodies, “Fuck. Please, never do that again.”

“Deuce.” you sob, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks before you can stop them, “It’s okay. I was the one acting like a child. I think I’m just so used to getting what I want that when I can’t have you I...”

You don’t say anything. You can’t find the words, but Deuce knows. He understands.

“You should know that you’re precious to me.” he murmurs, a forbidden confession that you know he could never make in the palace, “Nothing will ever change that. Even if I wasn’t your guard, I’d still want to protect you as much as I can. I want to be better for you.”

“I don’t want to leave here yet.” you beg, clinging to his uniform, “Please, can we stay here for a while longer?”

His expression softens even more at your plea, and Deuce allows himself to squeeze you. It’s a tender gesture that sends your heart into a frenzy again.

“Of course.” he murmurs, and it’s then that you realize how close he is to you.

“Deuce.” you whisper, leaning in again, hoping against all hope that this is the right moment, “Can I...kiss you?”

He sucks in a shaky breath at your request, but this time he doesn’t pull away. You wait patiently, for a few beats, staring into his eyes as the creek’s chill helps to minimize the heat of your face.

“My Liege...” he furrows his brow, mouth curving downwards in a frown, “I can’t.”

“Please. Please, Deuce. I want to kiss you.” you mirror his expression.

“I do too.” he whispers, flinching at his own words, “I want to kiss you so much. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Then please.” you cry, every cell in your body desperate for just one kiss, “Please.”

Deuce sighs, but you can see his composure breaking.

He whispers your name—your actual name, not My Liege or your highness, just your name and it’s the most beautiful whisper of your name you think you’ll ever hear and his mouth slots against yours.

You gasp, pushing against him to get more and more of him because this is a fleeting moment and you know you'll probably never get to do this again.

You will never get to kiss Deuce Spade again.

He presses a hand against your lower back and holds you close, the other one still cradling your head. He’s leaning in too, kissing you just as desperately as you’re kissing him, and just that fact alone has a joyful lightness filling your heart. You feel like you could fly right now and take Deuce with you away from the palace and your responsibilities and the title that keeps you two apart.

It’s over too soon.

♠️

You’re convinced your father didn’t need to scold you as much as he did. Even though Deuce didn’t want you to, you still took the blame for what happened. Your father would have thrown him and his mother out if you hadn’t, and you don’t know how you would live if Deuce wasn’t around.

The memory of the kiss is still floating around in your head, and it still makes you feel just as light as it did when it happened. You swear your guard used some sort of magic on you because your brain is entirely captivated by him.

Though, you suppose with a giggle, that is nothing new.

Your joy doesn’t last long though, as memories of what happened after the kiss creep into your head.

“I hate this distance between us.” you said as you trailed a hand down his cheek, “I just want to be close to you. I want to be your best friend and your closest confidante and...I want to marry you, even. I want to be with you forever.”

“My Liege, you can’t marry a guard.” he protested, and your heart ached at the return of honorifics, “Why would you want to do such a thing?”

“You know, you try too hard to stick to the rules. You rarely did that in our childhood.” you huffed, “I want to marry you because I love you. Surely you knew that?”

“That’s why I can’t marry you My Liege.” he sighed and looked at you with such sorrow that it broke your heart again, “I need you to have the approval of the people and to find a husband. I need...I need to be better for you and my mother. I need to follow my duties so neither of you get hurt again. I’m sorry.”

You try to bring back the happy memory of the kiss, but your mood has already soured.

And so you greet your handmaiden halfhearted as she rushes you into your bathroom. She's chattering on and on about how dreadful it is that your clothes got ruined, but that you still look stunning no matter what. You say nothing. She scrubs and scrubs and you try to wipe the memory of those hurtful, honest words out of your mind to no avail. You’re relieved that your father sent all the guests home early because of your little “stunt,” as he called it. At least now you don’t have to converse with royals who could never hold you or care for you or kiss you like Deuce Spade does.

Dinner is spent in silence as your father croons about how lucky it was that you weren’t hurt, since there are many wild animals on the castle grounds and oh, by the way, did you hear about his most recent hunting expedition? He’d be delighted to relive the tale of him shooting this large boar he found-

You excuse yourself with a weak smile and your father waves you away, content to use the handmaidens and butlers as his audience. Your handmaiden follows you back to your room, where she helps you change into your pajamas. You wave her away the second she’s done.

Flopping down on your bed, you can’t help but feel empty. You wonder why that is.

Today has held many emotional twists and turns, and perhaps it was too much.

Despite your better judgment, you get back up out of bed and head towards the door. The guard once again says nothing as you walk across the hall and knock on the door belonging to the Spade family. Deuce’s mom opens the door immediately and welcomes you in with that same happy smile, and that alone tells you she knows nothing.

“I hope the festivities didn’t tire you out too much, dear.” she hugs you, the comforting warmth of her seeping into your expensive pajamas, “I’ll go make you some tea. I’m sure your father means well, as he’s trying to secure you a happy future, but if you ever need a break from it all our door is always open.”

A happy future?

You look over at Deuce, only to find him already looking at you.

There’s a sharp pang in your heart at his saddened expression.

You were so close.

You were almost there.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 24

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Warm As Fire

Notes: I'm so glad people like this story so far. I always post every chapter with a small fragile heart, ngl.

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter:  24/ It’s a secret.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Ash Man had been quite determined to get away from the fort of the Brotherhood as fast as possible. Even if the wagon swayed from left to right a bit in the beginning, the horse seemed to show mercy to the inexperienced wagon rider.

But you had seen the nervous grimace on Lancelot’s face when he was trying to keep the wagon under control and found it quite amusing. The difference between the confident Weeping Monk in battle, and the fumbling Ash Man trying his best, was nice to see.

The rain had stopped an hour ago, thankfully so, it made it easier to see the roads in the night.

There was a bag of items and a chest present on the wagon, and your curiosity led you to search through it.

“Do you know where we are?” You asked while doing so.

“Near the sea.” He decided to jest.

You rolled your eyes and turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Please, tell me we aren’t lost in these woods.”

He looked back at you with a slight smile. “We are not. These are the roads I was hoping to avoid when we traveled to your home. Consider ourselves fortunate that we do not have to pass Uther’s castle anymore to reach your family. We are about a day away.”

“They must think I have left them without saying a word again…” You felt awful and sighed. “And Squirrel… gods.”

Lancelot gave some words of comfort, “You will be able to tell them what happened soon. I am certain they will be glad to have their daughter with them again.”

You picked up on the way he spoke of your parents. “You sound like you appreciate my parents.”

He admitted to it, “They seem like good people.”

You continued to snoop through the bag. “They are. I was glad to see that my cousin was doing so well with them, and he was impressed with our young Fey knight.”

‘Our?’… interesting choice of words.

In the bag were two ropes and some dirty linen, you had went through the whole bag of it in the hope of finding something more useful.

You wiped your hands on your trousers and went over to open the chest.

It was locked…

“What do you think is in here?” You asked and knocked on the chest.

He stopped the wagon and climbed into the back where you were.

It wasn’t what you had expected him to do, “Letting the horse rest?”

He gave a nod and knelt beside you in front of the chest. “I believe it has been pulling this wagon for a few hours before we took it, it is best we grant the horse rest.”

There was an attempt to break the lock with his sword, it did not budge.

It had almost slipped your mind. “Oh! Do you still have the hairpin?”

Lancelot had forgotten about it too it seemed, he searched his pockets. “I do.”

The ring was still in his pocket as well, he would avoid showing it to you. Any reminder of that monster was one too many.

He held up the hairpin for you to take, and you did.

The small rusted lock of the chest was a pain to pick at and some quiet curses flew out of your mouth.

It was unexpected to see him try not to chuckle at hearing them.

His eyes were fixed on your hands and how they worked the stubborn lock. The attention on you did not waver, it only shifted from one thing to another.

A concentrated frown creased your forehead… The way your lips pressed together as you tried not to let another curse get passed them… The scent of the sea mixed with the scent of you…

The lock clicked open and you let out a relieved little laugh. “Got ‘em!”

You handed him back the hairpin to hold.

Lancelot seemed to snap out of some deep thoughts before he helped lift the lid of the chest.

“That’s not food.” You sounded disappointed at the sight of the weapons in the chest.

He reached into the chest and plucked his swords and daggers from it, they had not been on their way to the Abbot yet after all. “I am sorry you are disappointed.”

You had heard that cheeky tone. “Well, you aren’t.”

He shook his head and immediately switched the sword he had been using for his own again. “There are some good swords in here.”

Lancelot searched through them, inspecting a few, and then he found one that was apparently better than the one at your side now.

You took it from his hands at his insistence, and proceed to inspect it for a moment as well. “I guess it does seem like a better sword.”

He had expected to hear it and a grin formed on his face. “It must be difficult to admit I am right about some matters.”

You scoffed at the obvious jest and played along. “Oh, please. You’re making it sound like I am the boastful one.”

The retort came fast. “I am not boastful.”

Your brow arched comically. “Gods, every time you get into a battle, you might as well say ‘look at me’ out loud because I know you’re always thinking it.”

Almost did he roll his eyes, they slid to the side instead.

Still, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You read minds?”

You closed the chest again, “Would that frighten you? What little secrets are locked up in yours?”

Even in the darkness of the covered wagon, by the grace of the moon, you could see the spark in his eyes.

There was a change in his voice, a warm timbre took over, “My secrets are mine to keep.”

While you grew curious, he moved further away to the end at the back of the wagon.

“You should get some rest. I will remain awake.” He said.

You weren’t sure about that idea. “Doesn’t sound fair that I get to sleep while you have to stay awake.”

He turned to face you. “You have brought me back from the dead and healed me. I have enough energy in me and it is there because you gave me yours. Sleep.”

“In soaked clothes…” You pouted at the thought.

“Try.” He insisted.

You knew it was out of concern that he wanted you to rest, rightfully so, the only thing that had kept you going was the adrenaline running through your veins.

You took off your vest and began to undo your bodice, seeing the way the former Monk was quick to fix his eyes on the trees you stifled a giggle. “I’ll sleep in my shirt and trousers, and hope the rest dries. Fear not, Ash Man, your eyes are safe from sin.”

This time he did roll his eyes and looked up for a moment.

He wished he could be of help, “We can make a fire tomorrow. If I do so now, it could draw the attention of others.”

It was true. “I’ll use this bag as a pillow. There’s linen in there but believe me, you’ll prefer the soaked clothes over them.”

He agreed on that. “I can smell the dirt on them from here.”

And you were going to use it as a pillow…

“Great.” You mumbled and laid down to sleep. “Guess I’ll wake up reeking of it too.”

His quiet chuckling was the last thing you registered, the lack of energy and cost of your magic caught up with you only a few seconds after you had laid down.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

The nightmare you were trapped in was build from memories that were created in that hellish fort.

The darkness of the dungeons, the murder of Lancelot and then the Reaper putting his hands on you.

The nightmare had enough oil to burn for a while. It felt so real. You were trying to defend yourself against the Brothers. Lashing out at them, hitting and kicking them. Growing more frantic the longer the nightmare lasted.

If only you had been awake to know that the Ash Man was trying to gently wake you…

The nightmare would not have ended with hitting his nose and believing it was a Brother you had struck.

That believe ended when the hold of sleep stopped and you saw Lancelot hold his nose and wincing in pain as he knelt beside you.

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and realized who you had hit upon jolting awake.

A shocked gasp fell from out of your mouth and you reached for him. “Did I… gods… I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

He put a hand on your shoulder, while still holding his nose with the other.

You waited for him say something, sensing that he needed a moment to let that surge of pain pass.

But he did not have to be in pain, not with your ability.

You reached for his arm and he grasped your hand immediately.

He had guessed the intent. “Do not use your magic. I am alright.”

Blood had run from his nose, that didn’t look alright to you.

“But-” You began to protest.

“No.” He spoke sternly. “I know the price it costs you. Do not pay it for me.”

You tried to pull your hand free. “I’m the one who caused your nose to bleed! It’s only fair that I solve the problem I have created.”

Lancelot simply refused to let you help him.

He wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve. “I have encountered worse. Your hit was not strong enough to cause real injuries.”

Your feeling of guilt faded. “Are you seriously going to jest about it already?! You’re unbelievable.”

He grinned, until he felt it increase the soreness in his nose. “I am merely trying to make you remember that I was raised for battle. A punch to the nose will not kill me. Not even if it is given by a feisty Fey girl.”

Your eyes squinted at him. “Don’t make it so tempting to proof you wrong.”

A chuckle fell from him and he moved to climb out of the wagon.

You called out after him, “You could tell I was having a nightmare, huh?”

He waited for you outside the wagon, beckoning you over.

You were tossing and turning whilst asleep. It were the quiet whimpers that had convinced him to wake you.

Because he could not stand to hear you suffer, even if it was in a dream.

He would not embarrass you by telling you how he could tell. “I could.”

You collected your bodice and vest, then climbed out of the wagon as well and noticed he almost subconsciously folded his hands behind his back, like he wished to avoid the accident of last night happening again.

A small bonfire was burning not far from the wagon.

You realized he had stopped next to a river, a wise choice, because one look at his clothing was enough of a reason to understand why.

The sight of all the blood, his blood, covering him brought back the awful memory of seeing him lifeless.

That plunge in the sea had washed some of it out, still…

He noticed the sudden change in you when looking at the state of his clothing. “I have made a fire to dry our clothes, together with this morning sun it shouldn’t take long.”

The sun was warm indeed, as if it wanted to apologize for the night’s previous weather.

You draped your bodice and vest on the grass near the fire. Some blood was still staining your trousers from having knelt in it, it would have to wait until you were home again, you couldn’t wait to put on some fresh clothes.

Your eyes fell on the amount of blood on Lancelot again, they snapped to the grass when he caught you looking.

This time he commented on it while taking off his cloak, “Can you not stand the sight of blood?”

You kept your eyes away and answered that teasing tone with your own. “Asked the person who made me heal dozens of bloodied paladins.”

He had hanged his cloak on a branch to dry in the sun and took of his aketon next. “None off them bled this much.”

Well, that was true. The amount of blood in his clothes was there because he had bled out, you couldn’t really compare it to the injuries the paladins had.

“Nor were they dead. And I can stand the sight of blood-” You turned and saw him pull his shirt off over his head. “There’s just…”

Your thoughts took another route so fast that you snapped your eyes away from him again.

The sudden silence made him look over at you, “Just ‘what’?”

A mouse must have been louder than you were. “There is just a little much of it on your clothes.”

Lancelot walked the small distance to the river bank. “I am going to try and wash some of it out.”

You were nodding a bit too long and just decided to go and sit by the fire until he was done.

That was the plan at least, but what he said next pulled your thoughts right back to him.

“Dying felt like suffocating at first.” He said, seeing the water of the river color red with his blood. “I never felt so cold in my life as I did then.”

It was difficult to hear how he had experienced it.

“How were you so calm?” You quietly asked.

He tried to get a stain out of his shirt by rubbing a small rock against it, it took him a moment before he answered. “I did not want your last memory of me to be one of fear.”

The last thing on his mind while dying had been what memories you would have of him?

You approached him and stopped a few steps away. “Everyone is afraid sometimes, and you were dying.”

Another silence passed before he spoke again. “I remember the darkness I was in until your magic pulled me out. God’s garden…” He scoffed.

The struggle with the religion he had served was visible, you worried for him, “Are you disappointed?”

He rinsed the shirt in the water, sounding firm. “No. It has made me understand that I do not want to live my life hoping for a better one after death. When I woke, I was grateful to be given another chance on life, because I realized something.”

You waited for him to continue speaking and watched him squeeze the water out of the shirt.

He stood up and walked past you to hang the shirt on a branch, next to the one that held his cloak. “I cannot run from what I was and I do not want to run from what I am, not anymore. If I do so, I would be doing the Fey a disservice. The Green Knight was right, our people need people who can fight and I cannot fight for the Fey if I hide from them.”

Lancelot came over to you and stopped only a step away. “I will give your parents the ring of the Reaper, and if your father still wishes to see me rot in a dungeon, so be it.”

The last encounter between them was still fresh in your memories. “Lancelot-”

He wouldn’t let you talk the plan out of his head, his mind was set. “I will fight for the Fey, but I will fight for you and the boy first. Always.”

The Ash Man took his aketon to the river next, leaving you stand alone speechless.

Minutes passed and he scrubbed the blood out of his aketon as much as possible, not a word was shared between you.

It worried you that he was so determined of his plan, but so was your father and that was were things would go wrong.

You knew what it was like to be trapped in a dungeon, never truly knowing if you would see freedom again or die in darkness, forgotten.

You stomped over to him as he knelt by the river, then snatched the aketon from his hands. “You will spend the rest of your days in a dungeon if you do not succeed in convincing my father, is that what you want?! I promised you I would meet you with Squirrel in the forest on the second day of winter. There is no reason for you to risk imprisonment!”

He rose, visibly disagreeing, “No reason?” His jaw was tense as he looked at the river’s stream. “You will go home, to your family, to Percival. And I…”

You gripped the aketon in your hand firmer, waiting to hear what he had to say.

His eyes locked on your face, hoping you would understand, “…I leave behind all I have.”

You had thought he would say something accusing, instead what he said caused a lump in your throat.

He would be alone…

When he had made it seem that he was alright with that fact, he had been hiding the truth. It was hurting him in the worst way. Dragging the truth out of the Ash Man was not simple, he always buried the pain.

You knelt down next to the water, the saltwater of the sea had been helpful on getting the worst stains on the aketon to lessen, you put it in the water to let it soak a little.

He stood motionless, watching it happen.

It was to distract yourself before your voice would betray the way his words had affected you.

Your eyes did not leave the river. “I will try to speak to my father. I cannot promise anything but I will fight for you.”

The Ash Man took an audible breath behind you, the rustling of the grass warned of his movement.

He knelt down beside you, letting the silence say what he couldn’t put in words.

There was only one man your father truly hated and that man had met his end at the hands of the Ash Man, that had to count for something.

It was not easy to try and make the world around you see the good in the man beside you, and it had to be even harder for Lancelot himself to deal with that fact.

You saw some of the dried blood lift from the aketon and pushed it down into the shallow river water more. “I hope Squirrel does not think we just left him.”

He knew the boy was certainly upset about the two of you vanishing from his life without a word of warning, “We should be wary, the knife you gave him was very sharp.”

You reminded him who was responsible for that, “You’re the one who sharpened it.”

It seemed like it had broken the tense air that had hanged between you, and he gave a guilty smile.

Lancelot reached into the water and plucked the aketon out of it.

“There’s still blood on there.” You stated.

He stood up and walked away with it. “I’m hanging it up to dry before the sun hides itself again.”

You took a moment by the river to wash your face, cleaning the dried blood of your nose, it had stopped bleeding.

The faint voices of the Hidden danced around your ears.

“Can you hear them now?” You called out to Lancelot while using your sleeves to dry your face.

He had returned with his cloak and let it soak in the water like you had done with the aketon, “What do you think they want?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess they are just glad we get along, we are their summoners after all.”

“Let us keep the gods pleased then.” He picked up a fallen branch and began to sort of stir his cloak in the river.

You barely held a laugh. “What on earth are you doing? You’re not stirring a soup.”

He moved the branch out of the water and poked your arm with it. “Let me wash my cloak in peace.”

You swatted it away and got up from the ground. “Fine. Have fun stirring your blood soup.”

The look of mischief in his eyes made you wonder if he was thinking about tossing you into the river too, you did not wait to find out and walked back to the bonfire where your clothes were almost dry.

You took off your boots to let them dry and air in the sun as well, then laid down in the grass to allow yourself some sunlight too.

The cheerful song of birds sounded through the trees and your heart felt peaceful.

The grass between your fingers smelled fresh from the midnight rain.

A few minutes passed where you just laid there with your eyes closed and listening to the birds.

You heard the sound of water splattering and knew he had gotten his cloak out from the river.

His footsteps moved around the area for a moment, then towards you.

The heat of the sunlight vanished from your skin when the Ash Man’s shadow took it’s place.

“You’re in my light.” You grumbled.

He had done it on purpose. “We can enjoy the sun while searching for something to eat as well.”

You opened your eyes and saw he had put the shirt on again, “Do you use your heightened sense of smell to find things to eat?”

The genuine curiosity in the question was a little unexpected to him.

Father had once asked many similar questions but it had only been to find out what would serve the Church best.

He sounded a bit shy about it. “Sometimes. Uhm… with ripe fruit for example. I can smell apples nearby.”

It was quite interesting to learn details about his ability.

You got up from the grass, teasing him with it a little, “Did the smell of them waken your appetite?”

That was a correct assumption.

He said it so matter-of-factually, “I was dead not long ago, I want to remind my stomach it is still alive.”

Your smile fell a little but you caught yourself. “Let’s get those apples for you then.”

“For us.” He corrected, and watched as you began to walk next to him.

You were reluctant to stray too far from the wagon, “What if what is left from the Brotherhood is looking for us?”

He brought a hand to the swords at his hip. “We cannot let fear starve us. Come.”

It was the fearless attitude of the Ash Man that put your mind at ease.

While walking him, you got to experience how he used his ability so discreetly that you almost couldn’t tell he was using his sense of smell to guide him.

After so many years, it should not have come as such a surprise that he was good at hiding his Fey abilities from others.

You couldn’t help but look at him curiously.

He didn’t notice at first, but he must have felt your eyes on him after a while.

Lancelot turned his attention to you, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders.

And you were still looking at him… It was making him strangely nervous.

He walked a bit faster, towards the scent that had gotten much stronger. “They’re over here somewhere.”

It wasn’t necessary to help look, he found the apple trees a moment later and plucked an apple.

You managed to catch it when he carefully threw it in your direction. “Thank you!”

The apple smelled sweet indeed and you couldn’t resist biting it, the juice of it was godly.

Lancelot took five more apples of the tree and returned to your side. “This should help us until we arrive at our destination.”

You took two to carry so he could eat his apple comfortably too. He walked back into the direction of the wagon, and you followed him.

After some bites of the apple, he asked, “What was your nightmare about?”

You gave vague details. “Everything really. The paladins, the Brothers, Soran…”

What bothered you most was how you had woken from it. “I’m sorry, again, for hitting you. I want you to know that I really didn’t know what I was doing, and that I wouldn’t have hit you if I had a choice in the matter.”

He was rather pleased to hear that. “Next time, I will just poke you with my sword from afar until you wake.”

Your mouth fell agape and a half-insulted laugh escaped. “Oh, for goodness sake!” The clock house of your finished apple hit his back after you threw it at him. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already.”

An arrogant smirk tugged at his mouth, “With your sword skill?”

The Ash Man was trying to push your buttons, and successfully so.

You made him eat his words. “My father, a former knight of the Fey, will be interested to hear of your doubt in his ability to teach me how to wield a sword. Besides, remember how I cut your arm?”

Oh, he remembered alright. “I remember. The wound grew infected, I did not expect to be healed by the same person who caused it. And now you can even bring others back from the dead.”

You still couldn’t fully believe it had happened, and part of you wanted to ignore the fact. “I only brought you back, the Hidden probably only allowed it because you’re Fey and because you’re special.”

“I’m special?” He cheekily asked with a charming grin.

You tempered his ego. “To them.”

He shook his head a bit, the grin grew from ear to ear. “I see.”

Was he seriously trying to get you flustered and make you trip over your words?

You turned the tables on him. “You are the Hidden’s special Ash Folk summoner, I bet they waited a long time for you.”

He took a bite from his apple and hoped he wouldn’t choke on it when he’d laugh, “I don’t know what use I am to them.”

You snorted a laugh, looking at him incredulous. “Says the Fey who can’t be burned and has fire as a friend.”

Alright, it might be what had the interest of the Hidden…

He did not want you to think you weren’t special either, “They waited for you as well, finally they have their Dawn Folk summoner.”

You confessed it to him, “I don’t want to be able to bring people back from the dead. I only agreed to be their summoner so they would help me bring you back.”

A promise made to gods, an exchange to save his life…

The sudden change in his eyes made you worry he might think you regretted it.

“Don’t get me wrong. I am happy you are alive, it was worth the deal I made.” You blurted out.

He believed you. “I know. I could tell when I opened that cell door.”

The moment you had seen him alive again, you had shared an embrace that neither of you had talked about since. Just like the kiss you’d given his cheek when saying your ‘goodbyes’ in the forest.

And you just sensed that he was not used to being given this sort of attention. Neither were you. Still, he had reciprocated the embrace in a way that you could not forget.

This was a former monk, and enemy, who had stood between you and peril more than once. It was difficult not to grow fond of the person he truly was.

It was easy to forget he was still getting used to the life outside the clergy.

You hoped your reaction had not been too much and too soon for him. “Hey, uhm, I apologize if I reacted a bit strong when I saw you alive again. I know you were raised with certain rules to follow. I was just so relieved to see you, my friend, alive and well.”

The Ash Man had a gentle look in his eyes, appreciative of the consideration. “There is no need for an apology. If anything, I cherish the reaction.”

Your eyes widened a bit and avoided looking into his. “That’s good…”

He took another bite and filled the silence that fell between you.

The only thing heard until you reached the wagon, was your footsteps.

When you arrived at the wagon again, Lancelot freed the horse from the burden of the wagon and tied the reins to a tree.

You frowned a bit, “Why are you doing that?”

Lancelot inspected the saddle. “We will continue without the wagon, it will be faster and draw less attention. And if they are searching for us, they will be searching for a wagon.”

And it would be easier to escape on horseback than on a wagon in case of a chase too…

“Do you think Goliath is alright?” You asked when he began to stroke a hand along the horse’s neck.

His voice carried worry, “I hope so. He is strong… and clever.”

The change in his expression betrayed him.

You hoped your words would comfort him. “You’ll reunite with him, everything will be alright.”

He nodded, a little lost in thought and went to retrieve the cloak and aketon he had put up to dry. “Put your boots back on, we will be leaving soon. It’s not safe for us to stay here for long.”

You had been able to rest, but he hadn’t done so yet. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep first? I can keep watch.”

Lancelot put the aketon back on. “I will rest tonight. We should arrive at your home by midday come morrow when all goes well.”

With his determination to stay awake, you hoped he was not too tired to continue the journey on horse, “Are you sure?”

He gave a quick nod, then gestured to your boots that stood abandoned at the fire.

After checking to see if they were dry, you put your boots back on.

Meanwhile, he was closing the belts on his aketon.

You kicked soil on the bonfire until it was out.

Lancelot poured out the dirty linen that was in the sack on the wagon, then put two of the moderate looking swords from the chest into it, followed by the apples and some of the rope.

You helped him attach the sack to the back of the horse’s saddle with a piece of rope, holding it up until he secured it there.

He untied the reins from the tree and beckoned for you to come closer. “After you.”

The little comical bow of his head made you smile. “How gallant.”

You put your foot in the stirrup, gripped the gullet, and pulled yourself into the saddle.

He was patting the spot in the front of it

“I know, I know…” You made room for him.

The speed at which he mounted showed that there was still energy burning through him. Had your magic offered him so much?

The horse began to walk in a slow pace right away, eager to stretch it’s legs without having a wagon to pull along.

Now that you sat on the horse with him, Lancelot seemed to see it as an excellent opportunity.

“I have a question.” He began and waited for acknowledgment.

That tone he used warned you that he was going to ask something that might annoy you.

You let out a little sigh. “Ask.”

He cleared his throat first, “Do you feel safe with me?”

That wasn’t what you thought he’d ask.

Had you done something that made him believe differently?

“I do.” You assured him of it. “I wouldn’t be climbing on a horse with you otherwise. Why do you ask?”

When he stayed quiet, you reached back and tapped his arm a few times playfully. “Spit it out, Ash Man.”

His answer carried a certain gentleness that you didn’t hear often, “I just needed to hear you say it.”

You looked back at him over your shoulder. “To me you are not the Weeping Monk anymore. You’re Lancelot. I see no reason to fear you now that I know you.”

He blinked a couple of times and watched you turn your head away again.

The warmth of him radiated through his sleeve and unto your arms, it had been a while since you had felt so comfortable. “What was life like for you, when you weren’t out doing what Father Carden asked off you?”

He gave the most expected answer, “I practiced the sword.”

If you wanted to learn more, you’d have to pry it out of him. “Besides that.”

Lancelot was not aware until now that you were trying to get to know more about him. “I uh… enjoyed reading.”

You pried further, “What books?”

His answers came quicker. “Anything.”

You fired another question, “What else?”

A light chuckle filled your ears. “I often spend time alone in the forest, it helped me to calm down when matters got difficult.”

“That is the Fey in you.” You deduced.

His own curiosity shined through, “Are you calmer among nature?”

It was an undeniable fact. “I am. I love to see the moon’s light between the trees above my head. The sound of an owl filling the air, a breeze swaying the branches and dancing shadows on the ground below.”

The daydream of your favorite things was softly interrupted by his hand being placed on your upper arm.

But it was the silence of the Ash Man that had your heart change it’s pace.

“Uhm…” You quietly uttered.

He leaned in close to your ear and teased you for your daydreaming. “Fey.”

A shiver went up your neck and you rolled your shoulders to hide it, what you could not hide was the soft giggle at his playfulness.

The hand stayed for a moment longer, and brushed along your arm when it left.

You distracted yourself from it by talking about Squirrel, “I hope Squirrel is doing alright. I know my parents can be stern, but they will look after him well. Maybe he’s playing with Ciro now…”

He kept his hands on the reins now. “Do you worry how your father will react to Percival’s mischief?”

You shook your head. “No. My father raised me, Squirrel’s shenanigans will be nothing new to him.”

A grin tugged at his mouth, “I thought you once told me that you were well-behaved as a child?”

You were biting your lip and mumbled, “Most of the time.”

Lancelot hummed.

Silently guessing that the rest of the time was spend on mischief that had your parents pull the hairs out of their heads at times.

You looked at him and squinted your eyes a little. “I just know you didn’t always do as told either.”

It was true, he had gotten into trouble more than once.

His hands moved closer to your stomach to rest. “If I did, neither of us would be here now.”

You slowly nodded, smiling at him, “What is life without a little mischief?”

He hummed with approval this time.

Your eyes fell on his hands and how close they were now, had he placed them so just because it was more comfortable to hold the reins and ride like this?

It was still strange to share a horse, even when you were little your parents insisted you learned to ride on your own as quickly as possible in case of trouble. The only other person you had shared a horse with was Squirrel.

By riding with the Ash Man, you could easily see the change that had occurred between you.

He was not as timid, one could even say he was comfortable near you.

For you it was something that did not come as natural yet, being close to others was difficult for Dawn Folk.

But for him you had made an exception.

It was safe.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

After riding for a few hours and walking for another few, it was the Ash Man’s yawn along with the setting sun that alerted you that it was time to find a place to set camp for the night.

“Should we make a fire over there?” You pointed to a spot next to the river you were walking by.

He seemed determined to reach your home early. “There is still time to walk further.”

You knew he was pushing himself too hard. “Lancelot, you need rest. You’ve been yawning my ears off for the past hour.”

What reached your ears now, was a scoff.

Before he could protest again, you made the decision alone. “We are stopping there for the night.”

His stubbornness surrendered. “Very well. But no fire, we should remain discreet if we do not wish to be found.”

You agreed and stole the reins of the horse from his hand. “Alright.”

He glanced at you, aware that you had taken away the reins just to make sure he’d really stop at the place you had chosen.

Setting up camp wasn’t difficult, all you did was tie the reins to a tree near the river and plop your rear down on the grass.

Lancelot took an apple out of the sack and offered one to you as well, you declined it.

You sat and watched how he kept finding things to distract himself from resting.

“Gods! Just sit down already, will you?” You blurted out.

His eyes snapped away from the river and to you. Almost timidly he did as you asked, and sat down against the tree in front of you.

You let out a peaceful breath, “Much better. It’s not a crime to rest, you know?”

“I know.” He sighed a bit. “I can still feel your magic running through me.”

The results of your magic were often enough for someone to think they could climb a mountain. “I believe you, but if you don’t rest and the energy wears off…”

Chances were high he would fall asleep at the worst time.

“You weren’t allowed to rest much, were you?” It was a guess based on how he struggled to do so.

“You will consider me mad.” He warned.

You couldn’t hold in the jest. “I already do. So tell me.”

His brow arched at you, but he choose to let it slide. “Since leaving the Church, even while being hunted, resting is easier for me.”

That was nice to hear, you pried a little, “Your conscience is no longer keeping you awake?”

He leaned his head back against the bark and watched the darkening sky. “Not as much as it once did. It helps to be around someone who forgave me.” His eyes dropped down from the heavens and landed on yours. “You forgave me.”

It was like he still couldn’t fully believe it, he swallowed thickly and lifted his eyes to the sky again.

The whispers of the Hidden sounded in your ears. Just when you looked at him to see if he’d notice their presence too, his eyes fell down to yours with the answer.

Not a word was said, your eyes did not leave each other as you listened to the whispers.

The voices he was taught to forsake, to ignore, he tried to understand them now. Because deep down, he knew they were speaking off you to him. And it made him more than a little curious as to what they wished to tell you about him too.

“It sounds like the Hidden doesn’t want us to get some sleep.” You broke the strange silence that was growing.

His head tilted to the side a little. “I am curious.”

“About what?” You asked.

The Ash Man was open about how he experienced them, “I cannot understand what they say, but I feel what their intention is. Do you feel it?”

You had your suspicion. “I think…”

It felt a bit embarrassing to voice it, what if you were wrong?

“Yes?” He urged you to share your thoughts.

Blurting it out was easier. “They are binding us together.”

To your relief, Lancelot gave a nod. “Do you think it is because we are summoners?”

Why did it feel like he thought there was another reason for it?

You cleared your dry throat, “Probably. What other reason would there be?”

He broke eye-contact by looking at the river and swallowed the answer to the question.

An answer never came…

You saw him try to hide another yawn. “You can sleep. My turn to keep watch.”

With a shallow nod, he let his eyes fall shut and sank back against the tree. That surging energy that had run through him came to a halt. It was common knowledge to the Dawn Folk that so much given energy always came to a sudden stop, not to the Ash Man who fell into a deep sleep seconds after he closed his eyes.

The moon had taken it’s place in the night sky when you decided to stretch your legs by the river a bit. You were tossing some small pebbles and saw them hop on the water, it became a way to entertain yourself and see how far you could get them to hop. It helped to stay focused and awake. While watching one of these rocks travel across the river, you heard Lancelot speak your name.

You looked over at him and saw that he was still vast asleep. Just to be sure, you quietly spoke his name as well and waited to see if he would reply to it.

No, he was definitely asleep.

Your curiosity was growing as you tiptoed closer to him and sat down against the tree next to the one he had chosen as a pillow. Why were you suddenly interested to know what he was dreaming off? It felt irresistible not to listen in to his sleep mumbling, and it was a nice way to keep yourself focused on the task of keeping watch as he slept. A few minutes past before he mumbled your name again.

The smile on your lips grew from the slight pleasant tremble that went through your chest.

Oh, how you wished to wake him and ask what it was he was dreaming about. You’d imagine he would be a bit embarrassed about it. Maybe you were tormenting him in his dream, as you once had done in reality. Or maybe it was a pleasant dream.

You hoped it was the later, he deserved something good.

After listening for a bit longer, you stood up again and returned to the river to watch the moonlight reflect in it. The sound of horses nearing pulled your attention away. Seconds later you were kneeling next to Lancelot and waking him up.

“Lancelot! Someone’s coming!” You shook him carefully.

The interrupted deep sleep made him jolt awake and grab hold of your arm.

“Someone is coming.” You said again.

He got to his feet clumsily and pulled you up with him. “The horse-”

Just as he had said it, a group of Uther’s soldiers emerged from the trees on horseback.

They must have been traveling back to the castle, and they were as surprised to see you there as you were to see them. The group of four came to a halt close to the horse you needed to flee.

One of them assessed the situation they had run into. “By order of the King, state your business in his woods!”

If they saw who Lancelot was… you’d be in far greater trouble than if they knew you were Fey.

The Church hunted your kind, Uther did not care for what happened and elected to ignore the existence of the Fey most of the time. To these soldiers, a Fey wasn’t worth the time, but the former Weeping Monk was.

Lancelot flexed his hand as it moved to the swords at his hip.

You stepped in front of him, whispering, “Stay here. Keep your hood on and your cloak closed.”

They couldn’t get closer to him, or the Ash Man risked his markings to be seen. The shadows offered him some protection from their view. Hopefully they could not see what the vague dark stains on his clothes or yours were.

You removed Lancelot’s hand from your wrist when he tried to keep you at his side, and walked up to the soldiers.

Telling the truth would spare you the time to think of a lie. “We are traveling North to see family, and we are taking some time to rest before continuing our journey.”

The one who had asked dismounted, and walked up to you while gesturing to Lancelot, “Your husband?”

It almost took you too long to answer. “Yes.”

The soldier stopped in front of you while the others kept a watchful eye.

“Newly wed?” He made a guess.

You nodded.

He turned to his comrades with a knowing look. “Just a couple of newly weds ‘resting’ in the forest.”

They chuckled at the allusion.

Your face began to burn at the implication the soldier had made, you could only imagine Lancelot’s response.

“Where did the blood on your trousers come from?” The soldier gestured to it.

Dammit… you hadn’t had the chance to wash them.

“I did not expect to bleed so early this month, and took no precautions.” You said with confidence, hoping it made him believe it was true and he was being rude to even ask about it.

The blood was on your knees mostly, but making this situation uncomfortable would make it harder for the soldier to ask further.

“Oh.” The soldier was visibly regretting it.

The soldier’s expression changed and you felt a hand touch your back.

You were under such stress that you’d almost turned and struck the poor Ash Man who came to play the part. Lancelot’s hood was far over his face when he brought his arm around your waist, his cloak hid the remainder of the large stain across his chest.

He did not look at them, it wasn’t necessary, they understood the message he was silently transmitting. They were not wanted or welcome.

The soldier cleared his throat, feeling the atmosphere grow more uncomfortable, and took a step back because of it. “I wish you safe travels.”

You watched him return to his horse and leave with the group who laughed at the situation. The Ash Man must have played his part quite convincing for them to leave without further questioning.

He withdrew his arm from you. “I-”

Words flew rapidly out of your mouth whilst you walked back to the river. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you at dawn.”

Lancelot was a bit stunned by the response, it took him a moment to follow your advice. He sat down by the tree again and watched as you tried to keep your attention on the river. You could feel his eyes burn in your back. You weren’t the kind of person to get flustered easily, but what the soldiers had laughed about and then Lancelot’s response had caused just that. He used to be a monk, for goodness sake…

You pushed the possibility away that there was something changing between you, it was simple ridiculous. Gods, it might even send him running for the hills if he knew that you sometimes thought he saw you as anything other than a friend.

Turning on your heels, you went over to him and sat down against the other side of the tree, your shoulder touching his. “That was uncomfortable.”

He didn’t have to guess what you were speaking off, “What the soldiers assumed?”

You nodded and sank back against the tree.

There was a positive thing for him, “I was impressed with how calm you were. I thought you would strike him.”

“I wanted to.” You admitted.

His mouth curved at the corner. “So did I.”

Lancelot leaned his head against the tree, his nose in your direction.

“Don’t sniff me.” You tried not to grin.

He did not turn his head away, “Concerned that you reek?”

It was too tempting not to use it against him. “Not as concerned as you should be.”

With the back of his hand covering his mouth, he tried to hide how close to laughing it had gotten him. It took a few seconds for him to recover from the false insult.

He defended himself, “My smell must not bother you if you choose to sit with me.”

You turned your head to say something and realized he was close, you turned away quickly again at the close proximity. “I’m just pulling your leg, you don’t reek.”

“Neither do you.” He exclaimed fast, then scratched his neck, realizing that it betrayed that he had been ‘sniffing’ you after all.

You saw him ignore the look you send him for it. “Sleep, Ash Man. Dawn is nearing and I need you-”

The cheeky bastard interrupted, “You need me?”

A half-nervous laugh escaped you. “I… Gods! I will toss you in the river! I wanted to say that I need you to rest!”

The joy he had in hearing you trip over your words was worth the playful slap to his arm. His ears welcomed your soft laughter, and his heart swelled at the sound.

He leaned his head back against the bark, closing his eyes, unable to hide the amusement in his voice, “Then rest I will, if you so insist.”

You resisted the urge to threaten to drag him home by tying him to the horse with rope if he fell asleep whilst riding. “Good.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, and you looked at the river again, doing your best to be quiet so he could fall asleep. You could hear his breathing slowly change, then felt his shoulder lean against yours more.

After a few minutes you knew he had fallen asleep, and by having his shoulder against yours, there was no way for you to leave his side without waking him.

Smart.

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[ask-serendipity-sky]

"People say the world has changed.

But thankfully between you and me

nothing has changed."

[gimme-noodles-please]

cw: kinda angst?, third realm spoiler alert, first person pov

author’s note: i was eating while i had this idea djwkdjw i just finished alkaid’s route and i was so sad 😭 my parents were arguing and my father was ranting at me while i was writing this so it is a little scuffed

————————-•••—————————

i woke up with a jolt, finding myself in the now familiar vine hammock in the depths of the forest. the sound of crickets and occasional hooting of owls managed to calm the fast beating of my heart. it’s okay, everything is safe. nothing bad will happen. i try to reassure myself.

ever since the end of the fourth era, all Asars have been living together in peace, flora and fauna has returned to the Spirit World once more, including the areas affected by the corrosion. under the guidance of the remaining three Spirit Leaders, all was well. there was no more threat of the corrosion, no more threat of a so-called “god” from somewhere out of this world.

yet, it feels empty

i let out a loud sigh, though it was in the middle of the night, i just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. eventually i dragged myself off the make-shift hammock and find myself back at the familiar tree; the tree that once was the only way to go up to the Sky Fortress. i slowly sat myself down, leaning against the trunk of the huge tree. why was i here? i don’t know. perhaps i just wanted to find remnants of him, anything, to at least momentarily convince myself he is still in this world, somewhere, so at least i can have a restful sleep.

once again i find myself quickly drifting back to sleep. it was the same dream as always; we were at the Sky Fortress, his larger hands holding mine so gently, it was almost as if he was afraid he would break me. “bend down a bit.” i instructed him, noticing his slightly confused look before nodding and tilting his head down. i grinned as i lifted the wreath of flowers in my hands to place onto his head, however was quickly encountered with the problem of his antlers. i breathed in deeply, ideas running through my head to counter this problem, instead settling to pluck a flower from the wreath to tie onto one of his antlers, sheepishly holding the wreath against my chest. “i tried.” i laughed slightly, embarrassed by my attempt. he smiles softly and shakes his head, “no, it’s pretty.” i found my eyes searching his, only to find nothing but love and admiration. i wished this moment could last longer

the next thing i knew was the tower, the altar. alkaid’s smile. his soft voice. it is okay, he reassured me with a pained smile. i couldn’t help the tears from falling down my cheeks as i hugged him close. “please, please don’t do this. there must be some other way!” i pleaded, hugging him tighter as if it could make him stay. but he has already made up his mind. “it is my greatest desire to do this. for my people, for the safety of our world… and for you.” i shake my head, holding his face between my hands such that he would be facing me. his eyes, his sad eyes betrayed the smile he had put on to try comfort me, it just broke my heart even more.

“don’t cry. i’m sorry.” he murmured, his hand reaching up to brush my tears away. i tilt my face towards the warmth of his hand, snuggling against it. “please, don’t leave.” i begged, my voice cracking with emotion, perhaps by whatever miracle he would change his mind. but his mind was already set.

“goodbye y/n”

.

.

.

i woke up once again, the morning sunlight was thankfully shielded by the thick leaves and branches of the tree.

i regretted it. i regretted so many things. there was so much i didn’t manage to say to him. i closed my eyes, leaning against the tree.

i didn’t manage to tell him

“i love you”

[they-stare-i-ship]

when yoongi said

"People say the world has changed (No)

Mm-mm-mm-mm

But thankfully between you and me

Nothing's changed"

honestly my life changed

[starfallchampion]

Alola! My name is Lucky, I’m a professional Pokémon trainer and retired Champion from, you guessed it, Alola! I’m Galarian by blood, but we moved when I was younger so my trainer journey formally began here. Yes, I am that Champion who dealt with the Ultra Beast crisis — I’m open to questions about it, so long as they’re not like “does it still keep you up at night?” Answer being yes, of course it does. In fact, if you have any questions about anything and everything battle-related, shoot them my way! Not only am I a seasoned trainer, I’ve also been travelling the world for quite some time now with my siblings, beaten a few gym circuits and given a couple evil teams what-for! I’ve seen people and Pokémon of all stripes from everywhere you can think of, so I like to think I’m pretty qualified!

If you’ve ever followed me and my journey as Alola’s Champion (fun fact: I was the first official champ in Alola!) you’ll know my strategy has evolved and changed a lot over the years. I can’t tell you what it actually is for obvious reasons, but you should know by now it’s super effective (lol). My ask box is always open, so please, ask away!

More information about me:

I started this blog at the suggestion of my partner! Partner as in romantic human partner, not my partner Pokémon lol. He and my siblings may post occasionally and if they do please do say hello!

I split my time between a lot of different regions for work reasons so I’m oftentimes extremely tired because of the jet leg on top of a sleep condition I have. For my physical issues I have a few Mons to support me that don’t battle, so they’re not very well-known in my ‘lore’ as some people call it.

Since I was a teenager and the Aether Foundation Incident happened I haven’t had very much privacy, so I’m very private about my life and my Pokémon outside of a battle context! I’ll probably still post about my non-battling Mons and my family + my partner, but not beyond what we’re up to generally.

My sister is studying very hard to be a Pokémon professor, so if she gets anything wrong, please don’t be afraid to correct her! Just be gentle, she’s still learning lol. My brother on the other hand will probably be reblogging a lot of Dark-type content, especially Umbreon stuff. As for my partner, he’s busy with work and me a lot of the time, so he’ll probably be a rare sighting on this blog!

Now, let’s meet the team shall we?

Neptune, a Primarina and my starter Pokémon! He’s a very loyal companion and loves getting everyone soaked in a stadium even when he’s not using his Z-Move. The best way I’ve ever seen him described is ‘a tank with a tail’ in a review of one of my matches.

Venus, a Sylveon with an axe to grind. He’s a bit of a diva but he’s extremely obedient in battles, so don’t be fooled by his attitude when you see him with me in interviews and such — he’s a sweetheart, he just doesn’t wanna admit it.

Bolt, an Alolan Raichu that is everything one would expect of his species lol. He’s a bit airheaded, one may even say he’s a klutz — but nothing and no one stands a chance against his megawatt smile!

Marian, a Ceruledge that has a strange knightley thing going on. I don't know when it started or what started it, but he's very chivalrous to all those around him, human or Pokémon! A relatively new addition to the team as he joined me while I was doing the Paldean gym circuit.

Bedsheet, a Mimikyu; there is a story behind her name. She made a disguise out of bedsheets and curtains the first night I had her. I was staying in a motel. Thankfully I managed to pay back the damages with all the wins she brought me. If I had to sum her up in a word: cheeky.

Tricky, a Golisopod that put me through the ringer as a Wimpod to catch her. She’s very sweet and loves to hang out by the beach. She’s a bit of a tank like Neptune, but she packs a punch too! She was my trump card for a while there.

Obviously as I’ve implied I have quite a few more buddies than this, but that’s my most frequent lineup as of now. For the rest you’ll just have to keep an eye on my battles. >_0

I think that’s everything! Thank you very much for reading and I look forward to every interaction we may have! :D

OOC INFO:

Hello hello!!! I’m Spooky, but I go by many names on my different blogs (Lovely, Cyril, Cerule, etc.) and likes and follows will come from my main @spookycrownblaze! Just want to knock a couple things out the way b4 I really begin with this blog!

First things first, no NSFW. Lucky and Grusha are adults but Lillie and Gladion are not. It’s not appropriate for this blog, nor am I comfortable with it.

I have no experience with any of the mail systems so I won’t make a call until I’ve had some experiences with them! So, tentatively, I’m accepting all kinds of mail for now.

Lucky is my self insert for the Pokémon world basically KSAKJLD he’s entirely based on my experiences playing the games!!! He wins 99.9% of his battles because all his Pokémon would be lvl100 + max friendship in the games as that is how I roll!!! If I don’t steam roll thru all my battles I am losing /j (oh and also I know nothing about the Pokémon anime so I’m working off game canon the majority of the time)

As you may have gathered by now, part of this blog is an established OC x canon relationship! If you don’t fuck with that, totally cool, please exit stage left. If you do, hey hi hello welcome! Thank you for restoring my faith in humanity a little! I’ve always known fandom to be pretty nasty about it, so it’s really refreshing to know some people are chill about it.

That said, I also work off my own canon, in which SM/USUM happened years ago and Lucky was the player character, except he was in his mid teens (15-16ish) and became a sort of older brother figure to Hau, Lillie and Gladion! It's kind of A Lot but to summarise: they saved Alola and all they got was this dumb shirt (intense PTSD), Lusamine is dead because of the Nihilego thing so Lucky functions as Lillie and Gladion's guardian as well as their older brother, Lucky has an extreme fear of Ultra Beasts and some physical scars from his battles with them but he kept a couple that proved they could behave themselves, being the oldest kid that emerged from the rubble of the Aether Foundation Incident Lucky is a bit of a celebrity for both good and bad reasons and Hau is the current Champion in Alola! He took over for Lucky when he retired a couple years ago and Lucky made him get a manager and assistant immediately after he took the position.

Lucky and Co. (Lillie and Gladion) mostly travel now! Along the way they just so happen to occasionally get roped into the plot of some other games. Lillie and Gladion do most of the talking, Lucky does most of the serious battling and gives any young trainers they meet advice. He also may or may not have beat up a few evil team grunts as opposed to battling them out of frustration.

Obviously don’t feel forced to interact with this blog if you don’t like any of the aspects of it or if you just don’t like the lore I personally work off for my character! I will not be hurt, I will not know — I get why. I am a slut for canon divergence and I love making fun overly powerful OCs with the cruellest nerfs I can think of. In Lucky’s case that’s just my sleep problems and Trauma™ JKDSJGLS

That is all!!! I feel like I yapped a little too much but I want anyone interested to have some context for this blog and its characters even if I feel So So Cringe laying it all out. Might post Lucky’s ref sheet at some point idk. My little eepy champion dude. THANK U FOR READING!!! ENJOY :D

[mykeworthy]

She Called Him Edgar (The Opening)

“Hey, Raven, you need any help?” The empath turned her head to the shapeshifter, leaning over the counter. She had dropped her favorite mug, which thankfully landed on the soft carpet, but on the ground it was basically out of reach. Normally she would use her magic to summon it back to her hand, or even just bend over and pick it up. But there was a very large reason she was unable to do either, and it was currently blocking her view of even seeing the mug at all. 

Raven let out an annoyed breath, but nodded and took a step back from where the mug fell. Beast Boy closed the space between them, bending down to grab the fallen ceramic vessel. He cared it over to the sink, and began to wash it, setting it to dry with the other dishes he had just finished cleaning.

“Thanks,” Raven said, before taking a seat at the kitchen table, unable to stand much longer. “One more month,” she muttered, “One more month and he’s out.” 

“Already been eight months?” Beast Boy said. “I bet you can’t wait to see the little guy.”

“I’d also like to see my toes,” she immediately bit out, her snark reaching higher than normal levels. As if she immediately rebuked himself, her hands cradled her own stomach. “I… I do want to meet him,” she said. She never liked calling the child growing inside her with just simple pronouns, but a name for him escaped her. 

She was suddenly aware Beast Boy was looking at her, with that dopey grin on his face. 

“What?” she asked, feeling annoyed.

“Nothing,” he said with a little defense. “I just like kids and everything involved in it. I hope one day I get to help someone bring a cute little baby into this world.”

“Just try to pick someone who isn’t half demon. Not having control of my powers has been he…” Raven went silent, her hand returning to her stomach. “He.. he just kicked.” Raven felt a similar dopey grin creep onto her face, as she focused on the life moving inside her.

Beast Boy got this look on his face, before beginning to walk away. Raven never figured what made her say the next line to him. “Did you want to feel?”

Beast Boy’s ears perked up before he even turned around, kneeling beside Raven in a flash. He very gently, checking Raven’s expression as he went, placed his hand on her stomach, over the baggy shirt she had been favoring with her changed physique. 

It took a moment, but the boy kicked hard, harder than he had before. Beast Boy let out a soft laugh, before catching Raven’s eyes. She could see a true genuine joy in them… but past that a soft sadness. 

“He’s going to be a lucky kid. You’re going to be a great mother, and all the Titans will be there for you, whatever you need.” Raven placed a hand on his shoulder. 

—————————————

Raven slowly opened her eyes, as the memory of where she was hit her. The hospital bed was not comfy, and she checked to see if she was hooked up to anything. An IV, a heart monitor. Raven had not had a normal reaction to birth, and despite wanting a natural birth, she needed to be sedated. Her eyes scanned the room, the last thing she remembered was a bunch of nurses and doctors around her, and seeing her son for a few moments before passing out.

Right now, the room was empty, save for a lone figure by the window.

“See that Eddie?” Beast Boy spoke, cradling Raven’s son in his arms. “That’s Jump City. Your mom doesn’t follow along with a lot of celebrity news, but some many people out there are so eager to meet you. You are the first Titan baby, and soon Star and Robin will give you a little cousin to play with. But until then, everyone is going to want to see you, yes they are.”

Raven cleared her throat, and Beast Boy turned to see her sitting up. “You’re awake! Up long?” He asked.

“Long enough to hear you criticize my disdain for gossip.”

Beast Boy smiled and carried the baby over to her bedside. “Now, would you hand me my son?”

“No,” Beast Boy said, gently swaying with the child in his hands. “Doctor said first thing you need when you get up is to get some water in you. Glass and pitcher on the table.”

Raven glared at him, and Beast Boy got nervous. “Hey, it’s not my decision. Take it up with the highly educated and experienced doctor. You need water, and mommy needs to take care of herself, doesn’t she, Eddie?” The last part was not directed at her, instead to the baby.

Giving in, the empath grabbed the small pinkish pitcher and filled the styrofoam cup with water. “Why are you calling my son, Eddie?”

“Short for Edgar. Guess you picked a name. Doc said you told him just before you zonked out. All the others thought the name was odd, but he looks like an Edgar… In a good way. Beast Boy shift the boy in his arms, so he was holding him up so Raven could see him. “Edgar MiddleNameToBeDetermined Roth. Say hi to Mommy, Eddie.” Beast Boy used his pinky to gently move the boy’s hand like he was waving.

Raven felt something in heart as she saw her son, and finished the glass before reaching up for him. This time, Beast Boy gave no resistance and handed him over, Raven cradling him, copying the way Beast Boy had been holding him earlier. “He does look like an Edgar,” she said. Beast Boy gently placed a hand on the boy’s head, before beginning to walk away. 

“Garfield…” she called out, watching the man turn to look at her. “Thanks for watching him.” 

Beast Boy lit up with a big smile. “Anytime Raven!”

[freewilllife]

Hello, I wanted to ask you what are, generally speaking, your thoughts about Hak and Yona's relationship ? Do you think the two will end up together ? Do you think it has been well managed until now ? Or are there some things that should have been managed differently when it comes to them ? I saw on the net that the couple is rather popular but some people said that it's a bit "toxic", what do you think of it ? Sorry for all these asks but I read and enjoy your analysis so I really wanted to ask

Will Yona and Hak end up together?

Sorry anon, when I think of those two, I have this particular song in my head...where the singer proclaims that they are so near the happy end (99,9 %)...I do think you could apply this to Yona and Hak.

When I started this manga, I´ve already was aware - since chapter 1 - that Hak would be the love interest and not Soo Won. I knew. Basically everybody who has read those kind of stories is aware of the signs.

Those two did not seem to get along well and Hak was the kind of guy, who is supposed to be the love interest. Super strong, manly, good-looking.

I was actually interested what would happen, that Yona would fall out of love with Soo Won...

Bang. Next chapter Soo Won killed her father, the king. Superb!

Has the couple being well managed until now`?

I have to admit that Hak and Yona are not my favorite couple in this manga, that would be Soo Won and Lily. But you asked for my opinion, so I will give it to you:

For my taste Hak´s world revolved too long around Yona at the beginning. Later, thankfully, when he got to know the dragons that changed a little, but he still lacks a past and he is still too focused on Yona. Hak has basically no own aim in life, except being with Yona and live for her.

I am so sorry to admit, that their couple scenes do nothing to me. They are too generic. I would not say that the characters in itself are uninteresting, though they could have been handled better. Hak should really establish something that separates him from Yona.

In my opinion, I have to emphatize this, a romance story is much more interesting if the bond is formed between two people who happen to have their own motivations and goals in life, yet, sometimes an interesting friction can be caused due to this. How exciting if this tension is released, the problems are solved.

Though sometimes...a character study of a dependent character can be also interesting...In the series Scum villain Luo Binghe is a formidable example of such a dependent personality. Yet his reasons and reactions to a not exactly kind environment are demonstrated. How at the beginning, he tried to get along with the people despite the abuse, since he was powerless until he was cast into the abyss and then something broke in him. His distrust of people, his anxiety due to his former experiences finally breached the surface of his character, intensified by this powerful sword he possessed. This could only be lessened by a relationship to Shen Qinqiu. Interesting, even if not "healthy".

Oh and Hak partly still considers himself beneath Yona...I guess. He is the type that some people would call "devoted".

Are Yona and Hak a "toxic" couple?

Neither abuses the other, so why should they be toxic? They both seem to be content with their unequal relationship. Not my cup of tea, but I don´t pretend that that pair is the most toxic thing evaaa!

[nikethestatue]

I kinda need to vent a little and you seem like the person everyone vents to so:

I can’t have kids. Like I am physically unable to (thankfully my husband and I don’t want them anyway, but that’s beside the point).

There are days when I’m in my head..when I feel like I should want them, and since I’m already depressed about the fact that I “should” but don’t, I start feeling bad that I CAN’T. Like I’m less of a woman because my body decided that for me.

The whole reason I’m saying this is because no matter how long it’s been since ACOSF came out, there has been and will be discourse regarding Elain’s ability to procreate and whether or not that means she’s Azriel’s mate/LI/whatever. That ideology hurts real women.

It fuckin sucks that we lose ourselves in this fantastical world only to be ripped out again by people saying a FICTIONAL CHARACTER is not worthy of love because they can’t bear their FICTIONAL love interest’s child. I-? And that’s not even starting on the way the whole pregnancy was handled..we’re sticking with Elain here.

I know there’s nothing you personally can do about any of this. It’s not like you can find SJM and shake some sense into her (not that any of us would complain about that lol). Like I said you seem like the person people send stuff like this in to, so thanks for that.

So this is an interesting one, because I bitch and moan about SJM plenty, however, in this case -- the stupid pregnancy plot aside in general -- I really have a hard time with blaming her.

Yes, her fake feminism died the moment Nesta began augmenting everyone's pelvises and making them nice and stretchy for Illyrian babies. However, I think that the place where SJM wrote this from was ...positive? I think she really wanted to make sure that none of the sisters are left with the same choices and no answers as Feyre did. And I think in SJM's mind, it was another step in Nesta's 'redemption arc' that she thought of Feyre, herself AND Elain when she was playing god with her sisters' hips. Now, the whole thing is ridiculous of course. But SJM did the best she could with the wording of that conversation between Nesta and Feyre. So not to give away her precious endgame couple, SJM still had Nesta say 'so NONE of us have to go through this again'. She could've said 'so you and I never have to go through that...' ir 'the two of us...' But she said 'none' which implies Elain is included. Now, the ethical ramifications of whether someone's body should be changed against their will, or at least without their consent, I think are lost on SJM. But I think that she left all of it open ended, and a choice.

Fertility and childbearing are complex issues. Personal and societal. Whether you want, you can't, you don't want, you planned, you didn't plan, etc. it's an issue wrought with both sorrow and pain.

The problem is that SJM decided to switch the direction of her writing mid-series --went from YA, geared towards younger audience, where sword fighting is a lot more important than baby making (hence no one except Yrene had children there on page), to NA, which should be geared towards a more mature audience. Or at least an audience which wouldn't take the issue of fertility so lightly and flippantly. Yet unfortunately, the switch wasn't done well. So now, we are stuck with 13 year old TikTok pontificators who think that they know something about something. And they amplify their own noise, talking about something which I don't think SJM ever meant to be talked about. I certainly would never think that she'd write a storyline where a woman is rejected by her potential lover over her inability to have potential children.

a. I don't think that's what she was hinting at at all

b. And while she is definitely very much an author where HEA means happy coupling with offspring, she did create quite a number of couples where children were not their HEA at all.

it's frustrating that so much animosity and sometimes real pain has been generated over a stupid ship that doesn't even exist.

[inkykeiji]

once again, thank you all so much for all of your feedback on chatplots thus far!!! it truly does help us a ton and we love to hear all of your thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms. we really appreciate anyone who has taken a moment to send in their opinions and ideas <3 hearing all of your suggestions for future chats is getting me even more excited than i already was!!! and to everyone who has sent in such beautiful comments and compliments: i cannot thank you enough. your words mean the world to us and we’re just so happy to hear that people are enjoying the beta and are as excited about the game as we are <3

anyway, i’ll be responding to some feedback from the form below the cut & updating this post (via reblogs!) as new feedback comes in c:

bugs:

AH okay so we’ve thankfully only had two of you report this so far, and we’re still looking into it on our end to see what might be causing this issue, buuut boyfriend thinks it might be a sensitivity issue. the way the responses are set up is basically as if they’re in an invisible box; we have it set up so it can be scrolled through if there are several options (which, in the future, there will be). however, because of this, if your finger moves even the tiniest bit when you press on an option, it won’t fully register. as such, at this current moment you have to press whichever option you’re picking with precision and intention (lmao). we’re going to keep investigating the issue over here on our end and tinkering with settings etc to see if we can find a happy, perfect medium. we might introduce a sensitivity control in the future where you as the player can set it to your liking in your own settings!

suggestions:

i will definitely take this into consideration, but there’s a delicate balance here. we don’t want it to drag too much, become too tedious or boring or repetitive, or make it feel like your choices have absolutely no impact at all. every single choice should have a consequence, no matter how tiny (otherwise it feels meaningless! everything needs a purpose). the other thing is that his texts are structured in a very particular way on purpose, for dramatic styling and rhythm. the way they send is more to evoke particular feelings in you, the player, almost as if you can hear him saying them (his tone etc), rather than to feel necessarily realistic. hopefully that makes sense! if something feels unnecessarily long or i can fit in something to break it up a lil more that feels natural and still somehow adds to the story i definitely will. thank you for sending in your feedback!! it means so much to me that you took a moment to let me know your thoughts, and i’ll keep this in mind when writing future chats <3

ah okay so incredible news for you: these are all things on our list!!! my boyfriend is especially excited about emojis, but what i really want is themes. the goal is to have the base game be quite customizable, like being able to change the colour scheme, your actual pfp to any photo you’d like to, etc.. i also think it would be super cool to have limited edition themes that you can somehow earn or purchase (for like fifty cents lmao nothing wild; or maybe they come with a specific chat) but that requires me to commission an artist, so that’s much more down the line.

other things we are for sure implementing: group chats!!!!!!!!!! this is the thing i am MOST excited for and can’t wait to start writing. imagine all the chats you could have between you, bmb tomura, and bmb dabi? or you, touya-nii, and natsuo? or you and the twins? or you, tag dabi, and tag keigo? OR my PERSONAL favourite, you, sugar daddy natsuo, his touya-nii, and his shouto??????? the possibilities are literally endless. other things we’ll be implementing: a ‘friends’ page, where you’ll be able to access either all of the chats you’ve purchased or all of the chats period if you’ve subscribed. this is currently what we are working on. on our dream list: phone calls.

anyway as you can probably tell we have an endlessly growing list of things we’d like to add hehe. but as it is only the two of us working on this, it’s going to take a bit of time to get it all out. our main priority right now is the friends page (and shop obv), and a few more tiny free to play chats (not nearly as long as this touya-nii chat) just to let u guys test it out a lil more c:

okay, now a question for you. when you say multiple messages at the same time, do you mean selecting one option from the dialogue options and having that one option then send several texts at once? because we technically already do have the ability to send two messages one after another.

i can definitely look into the first option, but the reason why we didn’t initially go with this is because we wanted you guys to see exactly what you’d be saying to him (i hate those games with branching dialogue where the option just gives you a vague summary of your response but not exactly what the dialogue is; ie when the option just says ‘disagree’ and then when you select it the text that sends is ‘i don’t think that’s a good idea’). my biggest concern with one option sending multiple texts once selected (if that’s what you meant!!!) is how to tell the player what each text would say without the dialogue box being this massive chunk of text.

all in all, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kind words!!!!! i am so beyond happy that you’re enjoying the beta so far and have such lovely things to say about it <333 and so many ideas!!! i LOVED your feedback in the future suggestions box omfg that got me really really really excited and i’ll definitely be taking what you suggested and turning it into a chat 100%

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

do u have a favourite lonan and harrison moment?

oh my god SO MANY. One of the first is the veeeery earliest Lonanasona moment from wayyy back in 2015 (book 3 of Fostered, YA dystopian). 13-year-old Rachel was ON IT.

I think in recent years, it's the spin-the-bottle scene in Seventh Virtue which I shared before but I'll share again! I love this scene so much because they're actually flirting WITH each other

OKAY ALSO I love the scene in Feeding Habits when Harrison and Lonan are like we'renotgoingtosleeptogetherwe'renotgoingto- and then do HAHA.

All under the cut w/ my commentary!

Book 3 (2015):

Context is Reeve and Foster are a COUPLE & have been having a chill romantic evening while Lonan and Harrison are out on a ~~mission (let's ignore the fact that the mission is them visiting Harrison's dead girlfriend's grave as an olive branch between them because a) HE'S GAY and b) Lonan is the one who killed her :) ICING OUT THE COMPETITION?? /j).

I think they're 19 here! Scene with my commentary:

“You’ve been hanging out with Ris all day – how do we know that you two haven’t done anything?” Foster asks, and Lonan and Harrison’s faces go pale white. << WELL I WONDER WHY. They turn their heads to stare at each other, looking back in horror, before Harrison starts pacing around the room. This time, he’s slow, and lazy.

“I think – I think I’m gonna… I’m gonna throw up.” Harrison says, and does actually gag, but thankfully keeps his insides in. << NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE CONVINCING BABE

“You know,” Lonan starts, still pale white. “I second that. Foster you’ve just scarred me for life.” <<< ME WHEN I LIE

"What? It’s a… a perfectly normal and acceptable possibility –” << FOSTER SAID GAY RIGHTS

“Really Foster? With Loner? Oh my god, out of all of the guys in this world, you paired me up with LONER?” << the CAPS LOL

“Yeah, well why not? You both seem awfully close –” << HE RIGHT THO

Harrison screams loudly and does look sick to his stomach when I catch his face. “I’d rather die.” << FOR HIM YOU MEAN??

“Me too.” Lonan adds, and I laugh, crossing my legs and arms out in front of me. << LONAN THIS IS NOT CONVINCING AT ALL

“Let’s just all agree that we’re very busy people, and don’t have time to do… other things with anyone no matter their gender.” I say. <<< I SAY THIS TO MYSELF EVERY DAY

“Agreed.” They chorus together, and that’s the end of that.

More of that:

Shaking his head with a laugh, Foster wipes the back of his hand against his mouth and turns back to Ris. “How’d your trip go?”

“How’d your trip go?” Harrison fires back, head between his knees like he’s trying to calm the nausea. “All this love bullshit is driving me nuts.” << WHY SO DEFENSIVE HAHA THEY DEFINITELY FUCKED

“Is that because your feelings for Lonan are so strong –”

“Oh fuck you! If I liked a guy – and there’s nothing wrong with that – that guy would not be Loner –” <<< LOL

“You guys are practically a married old couple. You even have nicknames for each other…” << MEANT TO BE

Seventh Virtue (2021):

In the canon projects, Lonan and Harrison are :) disasters :) and Lonan also doesn't want to be in a relationship with Harrison (LIES but he's afraid lol), so there's so much angst at the foundation of their relationship. Seventh Virtue is different because their origin story is completely changed. From the start, they're attracted to each other and flirt from the moment they meet!

This scene has it all: Harrison DRAWING, sexual tension, banter, Lonan actually being a confident person!!! Everything they want in canon but suck too bad to have LMAO.

Context: Harrison is quite literally Lonan's prisoner <3 sexy <3

On Harrison and Lonan’s fifth unofficial date, Lonan brought dinner for two. Harrison had been scumbling a portrait of the man five cells over onto the concrete floor, or at least had attempted to. He’d managed to snag an HB pencil off the medic the second time she’d come to inspect his palm. She’d wielded a clipboard then, and had gone down a list of symptoms, most likely for sepsis. Harrison waited for when she’d finished ticking off each box with the pencil, then asked her to re-examine his wound. He said he’d felt a sudden burning and was concerned about an infection. With one hand clutched in the medic’s, he used the other to slip the pencil from the clipboard’s holster, and so, it was his.

He didn’t bother hiding this find from Lonan. Their mutual understanding was that Harrison would take what he pleased while in custody, and Lonan would be too impressed by his skill to reprimand him. At least Harrison hoped he’d be impressed. He was a thief, not blind.

“Have you come to poison me?” Harrison asked, gesturing to the silver pots Lonan had shuffled in on a red plastic tray. “I’ve always wanted to be poisoned. There’s something kind of sexy about never knowing the exact moment the poison really kicks in.” << LOL he's down bad

Lonan settled the tray on the ground. After a moment, he took a seat in front of it, taking care to adjust his freshly-ironed trousers. << typical

“You’re in CEO mode today,” Harrison said, mildly furious but also disgustingly satisfied by the clean wash of his blue button-up. “The last time you were here you were all Casual Friday.”

Lonan unscrewed the cap of the first pot. It steamed, swelled the holding cells with the scent of chili and anise. Harrison’s stomach lurched at the smell; in truth, he had not eaten well since his capture, and that must’ve been days prior, perhaps even a full week before. The man who did bring his three daily meals often dropped the containers purposefully so Harrison had two choices: starve, or eat off the floor like an animal. Sweat pearled on his forehead the more containers Lonan opened.

“I know,” Harrison said, trying to distract himself from his hunger by shading the portrait’s eye. Hatch, hatch, hatch. “You’re here to make me your official food taster.” Hatch. “You said you wanted to give me a job.” Hatch, hatch, hatch. “I’ll never know what I’m going to get.” Hatch. “Kung pao chicken or cyanide.”

“You’re left-handed.” << this delivery is SOOO Lonan

Harrison nearly took out the portrait’s eye. “What?” he asked.

Lonan undid the lid of the final silver pot; it shimmered with broth. He gestured toward the pencil, stubby and clutched in Harrison’s palm. “I’m going to have to confiscate that, you know.” Lonan laid out each pot on the cold floor, then unveiled two plastic plates, and a set of pre-packaged cutlery. “I hope you’re not allergic to anything.”

“So you cut me, arrest me, throw me down here, and now you want to dine with me?” << HA

“Yes,” Lonan said. He ripped open his cutlery packet, slipped out the black fork. As he unloaded bouts of fried rice, mounds of glossed orange chicken, and a generous helping of black pepper beef, he added, “And I didn’t cut you. You did that yourself.”

Harrison snorted. Oh god, he was starving. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the façade before he started drooling. “That’s because you were going to stab me in the gut,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to stab you.” << normal tuesday for them

“So what were you going to do with the knife? Use it to play spin the bottle with me?” << the LEAP LOL

Lonan arched a brow. “Would you like to play spin the bottle with me?”

“If you’re the one I’d kiss, then sure.”

This made them both smile, sort of. They equally bit their amusement for the other, tried to pocket it, ignore it, but it was there, their tangible joy. << EEEEE

“Please stop being stubborn and come eat something,” Lonan said, after a moment had passed.

“Please?” Harrison crossed his arms, slotting the pencil into his jacket pocket. “What else are you willing to do to convince me? You said I’m valuable, right?” << WHAT ELSE ARE YOU WILLING TO DO TO CONVINCE ME HAHA

“I don’t think I used those words, but sure.”

“Then show me why I should accept your takeout instead of starving myself to death.”

Lonan sighed. There really was little to gain in Harrison’s challenge. He actually had not planned on starving himself to death, but the idea of using his life as a bargaining chip excited him. Whatever skill he had, he could use to push and pull Lonan. He was valuable. Still, he stayed exactly where he was, trying not to vomit at the smell of good food he certainly wanted so badly.

Harrison watched Lonan as he rose, slowly, dusting himself as he went, bringing his set of cutlery with him. There was very little point to this—the holding cells, all located in a damp, sunless basement, were akin to dust bowls. There was no way to avoid it. Still, he flicked lint off his good shirt, adjusted his collar. Then he walked toward Harrison and kneeled in front of him.

It was more of a treat than a threat to have Lonan so close. He was maddeningly put-together, smelled once again of vanilla and sandalwood. He was the type of person who likely carried a comb around with them—his hair was split perfectly down the middle, a thin, pale thread indicating his parting. When he looked at Harrison, his eyes like burning forget-me-nots, Harrison looked at the portrait he’d half-finished. This is why he didn’t understand what the sound was, a plasticky whirring, until he glanced back in Lonan’s direction. << THE WAY I'M ONLY NOW REALIZING THAT THE WAY LONAN CONVINCES HARRISON TO EAT IS TO PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE WITH HIM THEREFORE SUGGESTING HE'S GOING TO KISS HIM AHHH BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT'S WHAT HARRISON WANTS AHHHH

A plastic knife twirled along the concrete, slowing to a stop at Harrison. He should not have been surprised that this is what that godforsaken handsome devil had done. It was both sweet, and irritating.

When Lonan reached for Harrison’s injured hand that at this point, had healed almost fully due to the medic’s assistance, Harrison didn’t resist. A line of butterflies fluttered through his chest. Lonan’s touch was cold. Disastrously careful. He turned it so his palm was face up and they both saw its wide, neat stitches. The medic had done a good job. In a day or so, Harrison would be back to normal, like nothing ever happened. But still, Lonan held his hand. Then like a prince, he bowed his head and kissed it. <<< OKAY LONAN HAS GAME LONAN HAS GAME

Feeding Habits (2021):

I love this scene because it's just the epitome of... them. Trying to do everything right and still managing to do everything SO wrong, not communicating properly being their love language, etc, etc. Talking about murder right before they kiss, LOL.

Harrison breaks their rule, or maybe they choose to break it together. There they are, draped across a single mattress, one on each side. Harrison considered splitting the bed with pillows, though there are only two and currently two heads that need supporting. He also considered rolling off his side and crashing, literally, on the floor, but maybe it’s the wine, or maybe he’s just tired, or maybe it’s something else entirely, a weak pulse in his throat aching for something familiar, or the veil of something familiar at the very least. He doesn’t know what he expects. If, in some fleeting, idiotic thought, he imagines a reality where they’ll somehow find the other, fuse bodies. That they’ll swap skin, breathe into each other’s mouths. In reality, sleeping next to Lonan after all this time is so much like sleeping alone. << this LINE

“Do you miss him?”

Harrison startles. Though he’s so hyper-aware of the person next to him, the smallest amount of space he attempts to occupy, it’s surprising to hear Lonan speak. Harrison foresaw this trip as being one giant loop of silence. It’s past midnight now—he expected this silence to intensify by this point. In some ways, it does. When Lonan swallows, nervous or maybe in severe need of water, Harrison hears the way his body seizes against the mattress, like he’s stopped breathing in that millisecond.

“Your mother told me Foster boarded with you for a few months.”

“Boarded makes it sound so formal,” Harrison says. It could have been, and in ways, might have been, the distance between two friends enough to make things feel palpably strange. In the mornings, Harrison would find Foster already awake, and they’d greet each other, saying, Hello, Hello, How are you, How are you. It was no one’s fault but Harrison’s—it was much easier to live blandly, in a safe cycle of dullness. One day, Foster was there, making an effort, trying to be a friend, and the next, he’d packed up, probably doubting his ability to be a person for how little Harrison wanted to interact with him. Even now, it’s difficult to feel guilty, even though Harrison should be. He understands he did not deserve the hand he’d been extended, and also understands he had no obligation to take it, no matter how much he should have. It’s selfish, how easily he rejected Foster’s presence, but also human. Or at least this is how he justifies it to himself.

“Do you miss him?”

“Is this question about yourself?” << JSJDJNSKJ Harrison turns to him, his jaw peaked delicately in profile. Lonan doesn’t meet his gaze, but Harrison knows he wants to. The very dome of his eyes glimmer, straining against the need to move. Harrison wets his lips, inhales, and as if tempting the eyes, says, “I didn’t miss you, Lonan,” despite how much of a lie this is. << AT LEAST HE ADMITS HE'S LYING HA

This gets the reaction he wants: Lonan turns also, and there he is, an open face, ready, so easy to ingest. Harrison could do so many things to that face. << OH CHRIST He could pry it right open, unlock the secrets woven across it and take them for himself. He could scream into it as if it’s the gaping hole that once was his ceiling back at the apartment, a space that never ended and also a space he never wanted to leave. Instead, he lifts a hand, and presses it right against it.

Lonan is cyan in the moonlight, but unexpectedly warm. This is another thing that’s wrong. Where did he get it—all this blood needling his body? Since when did he live, this walking dead man?

“You’re dead,” Harrison says, or maybe he whispers this, or maybe he only justifies even uttering this because of the wine. Lonan’s skin twitches, and this is disarming, how it deliberately betrays what Harrison says. It should be easy to control. Things this hidden always are.

“Then who killed me?” Lonan asks. Everything about him hums—his chest, his lips, his throat.

Harrison moves. He shouldn’t. God, that wine. But there he shifts, close enough to hear the weak rattle of Lonan’s heart. He once knew this sound so well, but even now, its rhythm is so unfamiliar. “Could’ve been anyone.”

“But who?”

“Me,” Harrison says. “Or Eliza. Or maybe we did it together. So many possibilities and so many outcomes.” << will graham behaviour

This is true. If he thinks about it, Harrison can nearly visualize the alternate life paths that could’ve been triggered right on the motel wall. What if things had gone differently? Consider the butterfly effect: what would have happened all those months ago, had Harrison returned to Eliza’s apartment, brought Lonan’s gum back with him because he’s a good man, not a leech? What would have happened if Lonan packed whatever of his things he kept in that Vegas apartment, shoved them in a car Harrison didn’t own, and split the drive back to the east fifty-fifty? What would have happened if they’d settled in Brooklyn and not Manhattan, a more familiar city to Harrison, brand new for Lonan? What would have happened if they’d both gotten jobs at the same convenience store, spent most of their time working eight-hour days, but sometimes, and only sometimes, having enough time to lie with each other on a potential futon and watch rented foreign films they had no desire in returning? What would have happened if they’d turned into each other’s bodies, learned the places they could absorb into the other and allowed just that to happen—a blending of cells, one by one. How would they know one another—would they know one another? The minute change the hardwood floors would make depending on who stepped, the exact minute they’d usually wake up? Would it have been easier then, to fully convince themselves their relationship was right? Stable? Ready? What would have happened if they’d landed anywhere but here, at some cheap motel, sweating through their clothes because the heater is turned up so high? Oh, trapped in this initial condition. << this. paragraph.

Maybe they move closer to each other at the same time. Lonan’s wisped hair brushing Harrison’s forehead. Harrison’s hand heavying into Lonan’s living skin. Maybe this is just a single one of their infinite possibilities, where they breathe into each other’s mouths, so close they’ve nearly fused. Maybe this is just one outcome, where Lonan’s inhale rattles, and Harrison’s exhale does the exact same thing. One outcome where Lonan admits, “I’m asking about myself,” and his previous question doesn’t even need to be repeated. One outcome where Harrison nudges his top lip against a mouth he doesn’t know, but in another time could have, recognizing its unfamiliarity immediately as he says, “I didn’t think about you at all.”

I'M SCCCRRREAMING HAHA gotta analyze harrison's "i didn't think about you at all" for the podcast!

[badmouthedmama]

Third times a charm b****** check those pictures 🤣

Totally slept in today. I'd say it was because I was giving myself a little grace but I totally f****** turn off my alarm and pass the f*** back out.

How bitter sweet day it is my last double shift as a waitress at the 2 restaurants? I am so happy. It is a beautiful morning. The Sun shining on the beautiful mountains and the moon called on me.

Yesterday was a trip. I really don't f****** understand the dentist, go in like bro. You need to fix my s*** cause I'm still in pain and all he does. Is shave down a tooth? With one of his tools OK there you go should be good. Are you f****** kidding me? How's that even possible? Oh, the golden news. I have to start wearing a mouth guard. Because I'm grinding my teeth. And let me tell you that f****** terrifies me. My dad grindes his teeth when he's sleeping. It is the most awful sound in the whole entire world and the thought that I could start doing that. puke in my mouth. 🤮

So after the dentist I hauled a** home took a quick shower to wash my workout off and went to work and still absolutely love my new job. It's such a great change of pace. And most people are very happy. Then off of work, around town to pick up daughter next to the house. Other kid across town. Thankfully, he ended up having a sleep over. I expected it to be a busy night as usual. between dance and baseball and friends and sleepovers, but it ended up being pretty mellow.And I got some baking done.

Made for my boyfriend For his birthday and I text him I said just you know, I'm a Baker. Not a decorator so it tastes f****** amazing, but it looks like s*** LO.L

Lived in the Pacific Northwest. Almost my whole entire life. Hate the cold and hate the rain, but it's morning's, and it's in views like this that keep me around. It's so f****** pretty here and the fresh air. Can't beat it telling you, if you never got on an airplane and plumed to Seattle and got off the plane and taken the breath of fresh air, do it. You don't know what you're missing.

Wrapping up my walk, I'm gonna get in my car.Drive the cake over, leave it in the truck so that he has it for his family dinner tonight

Told my co-worker yesterday that I don't really dable. Ha ha ha, pun intended, so I picked up the equipment and gave it a shot. Now I gotta come up with a new acronym.

Also, it takes me forever to publish this.Because I talk to my phone on my walk.Apparently , I talk like a complete fucking idiot because it's nothing that I say. I literally had to figure out the very first statement because it said something about stephanie. I'm like Stephanie. Who the f*** is that b****

#TBGLU ✌️🌙

[unseededtoast]

Begin Again | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: Based off Hozier’s song “All Things End”. In which things abruptly ended between you and Spencer, and you’ve never been able to reconcile your emotions over the relationship, or losing him. When presented a second chance on a silver platter, you’re grateful for the chance to begin again.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 9.2k

warnings: a lot of angst, that's about it.

a/n: and here i am again with another Hozier/Spencer collab. I promise the next one isn't going to be Hozier inspired lol, and I hope not to take two weeks to get the next out, but thank you for reading, it means the world:)

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

If you had known five years ago where your dream job would lead you, you don't think you would have taken it. In fact, you would've went running in the opposite direction of the FBI's Quantico office, never to step a foot over the threshold. And maybe things would have been better that way, but there's no way to know.

Sure, you loved the job, adored it even. You took pride in knowing that you've saved people and locked the bad guys away, never to see the light of day again. And you loved your team, well, some more than others; but that was five years ago by now. You thought you had left it all behind but here you sit, waiting for your old boss to show up at a restaurant he made reservations at.

Your foot nervously taps against the floor, not entirely sure what to expect. You hadn't heard from anyone on the team in years, and out of the blue your old supervisor wants to meet? It probably doesn't mean anything good. But thankfully, your mind doesn't have to race for much longer as you see your old supervisor, Hotch, walk through the glass doors. You stand to shake his hand, and he greets you.

"It's been a while." He says, sitting down into the chair. You nod your head, scooting your chair closer to the table.

"It sure has been." The tension in the air is palpable, your palms are sweaty and your heart races, beating erratically in your chest.

"How has life been treating you?" He eases into the conversation, sipping on the water the waitress had dropped off before he arrived.

"It's been alright. Took a job as a professor." You say, skirting around the reality of what the past five years have really been like. It wouldn't be professional for you to tell Hotch your world had crashed and burned.

"That's good to hear." He smiles softly, and this time it's your turn to drink some water. You only hope he doesn't notice the tremble in your hands, but you know with his expertise he picked up on it immediately. Unable to take the suspense any longer, you speak up.

"Hotch, why did you call me here?" Your eyes bore into his as you await his answer. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

"There's been some changes in management since you've been gone. Strauss no longer oversees the BAU." He says, as if that's supposed to mean anything to you. You swirl the straw around in the cup, trying to give your mind something else to focus on to alleviate the overwhelming nerves.

"That's such a shame." Your voice drips with sarcasm. If you had it your way, Strauss would have fallen off the face of the planet five years ago.

"We would like to reinstate you." The straw stops swirling in the glass and it's like ice fills your veins. Lifting your gaze from the water, you see nothing but seriousness on his face.

"Reinstate me?" You're in disbelief, but Hotch nods.

"Only if you're interested." He says, sliding a file full of paperwork over to you. You open the file and see reinstatement forms waiting for you, a pen clipped to the top. Your mouth falls open in disbelief.

"I didn't think that was possible. After my suspension I was ineligible for any other federal position. So how is this happening?" You read the words on the front page of the form, unsure if you want to fill it out or not.

"I was able to pull some strings. We'd be happy to have you back." You know his words aren't entirely representative of everyone's feelings about you on the team, a pit of unease forms in your stomach the longer you look at the words.

"Well, some people maybe." You mutter, closing the file. Hotch sighs and readjusts his tie.

"The team misses you. Come by the office with me, for old time's sake if nothing else." Hotch offers, and despite the unease about seeing some of your former teammates, your curiosity and love for the job takes over.

"Sure." You agree, a part of you needing to see the office again. The office had practically been your home at one point, and now it's just a bittersweet memory.

The two of you hurry through lunch and before you know it, you're in a familiar passenger seat. Hotch's black SUV hadn't changed a bit, it's nostalgic in the best way possible. The file is clutched tightly in your grasp, your knuckles turning white as you get closer to the office. Familiar streets look the same as you remember, almost as if Quantico is stuck in time. You only hope that not everything about Quantico had been entrapped, you desperately hope that some things have changed.

Hotch parks in front of the building and your throat goes dry, your legs seemingly paralyzed, unable to move from their spot. Noticing your apprehensiveness, Hotch walks around and opens your door, offering you his hand to take. You take his hand and step out of his car, making the trip up to the BAU's office. The elevator ride is quicker than you remember and before you're mentally prepared, the doors slide open and you're met with a familiar space.

You walk behind Hotch, not being brave enough to walk in first. That, plus you're technically a visitor with no right to walk ahead of an agent. It seems the office space has also fallen victim to the time capsule effect. There's not a single desk or chair out of place. Your eyes glance around, seeing Derek's jacket slung over the back of his chair, Emily's usual coffee order beside her computer, and your old desk that sits empty. You purposefully ignore one of the desks, not having the courage to look over there.

Hotch leads you to his office and closes the door behind you. The blinds on his office windows are open, meaning anyone can look in here and see you sitting across from his desk. You're not sure if you want them to see you or not. No, you're definitely sure there's one person you don't want to see you.

"Now, I'm not asking you to make a decision right now. I know there's a lot to consider, but hear me out. I know that you did the right thing back then, if it were up to me you wouldn't have been suspended. You were one of our best and we need you back." He leans forward on his desk and you avert your gaze from him, looking down at the file on your lap. Your foot taps on the ground, mind racing a million miles a minute.

"If I do accept, I get fully reinstated?" It almost feels like a dream, you need to be sure that this is really happening.

"Fully reinstated." Hotch confirms. For the past five years this is all you've wanted, but now that you're presented with the opportunity, you can't help but wonder if the past has tarnished any chance of a new beginning or any fresh start here.

You hear an increase of voices outside of Hotch's office and you can't help but look over. Emily and Derek joke back and forth about something, each with a file in their hand. They must have just returned from a case. Following close behind is the one person you had hoped to avoid altogether, Spencer.

Your heart drops to your stomach, and it's like a bowling ball has been thrown right at your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. He's holding his own file and he takes a seat at his desk, opening the front of it up and quickly filling out the forms inside. His hair has grown out, it's curlier than you remember. And he looks more mature, his features more beautifully defined.

You remember all the mornings you would bring him coffee and all the times he would bring your favorite kind of muffin. How sometimes you'd return from a break and find that your incident report had already been completed. And then there were the times you would camp out at his desk, content to listen to him ramble about anything and everything under the sun. You always adored how animated he got when he was passionate about something, that was until the passion pivoted from topics of interest to yelling at each other in his kitchen. He sure was animated then, too.

"I can walk you out if you'd like." Hotch interrupts your staring and you blink a few times, knocking yourself out of your trance.

"Yeah, I'd like that, thank you." Your voice is hoarse and you make it your mission to keep your gaze focused on the back of Hotch's head as you exit the office. You don't miss the sudden cessation of voices as you two walk out, you can only imagine the conversations that follow your presence here.

Hotch drives you back to your car left at the restaurant and tells you to inform him of your decision, regardless of what it may be. You agree, it's the least you can do, but you don't give an indication one way or the other. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to decide. There are a lot of factors to consider, and Hotch knows that. He drives off and you return to your home, unable to think of anything else but the offer to be reinstated.

-----

The forms have sat on your countertop for the past three days, their presence almost suffocating you. You had tried to do other things, grade your student's papers and outline lesson plans but nothing was working. The only thing you can think of is whether or not you should take Hotch up on his offer.

Photos on your walls of the people you've saved stare back at you, their permanently smiling faces reminding you of all the good that came from the job. Your eyes move from one photo to the other, remembering each case as if it happened yesterday. Hardly anyone on the team kept photos like this, but you took inspiration from your mentor, Gideon, and admired how he was able to keep himself from getting lost in the darkness that comes with the territory of the job by reminding himself of those he saved.

While there were people you saved, there were a lot you lost as well. And you can't forget them either, no matter how hard you try. Their cries, screams, and corpses are forever tattooed in your memory and no matter the amount of time that passes, the memories never fade.

Without considering the people saved and the people lost, there's still the matter of your teammates. You had lost contact with them all after your suspension and you don't know if they'd welcome you back with open arms. Besides your suspension, there's the matter of Spencer.

Things hadn't ended well between the two of you, and you're not sure if you two could work together cohesively. Sure, everything happened five years ago but it doesn't take a genius to understand that time doesn't heal all wounds. Not wounds that cut down into someone's soul, the very fiber of their being.

You still remember the last words you ever spoke to one another, you remember the malice you held for each other. And it would be easy to place blame on either one of you, but you know deep down that it was not the sole fault of you, nor him. You each played a part in the relationship's downfall. Without thinking, you find yourself staring at an old team photo and the memory of that fateful night seeps into your mind.

-----

His hand slams down on the granite countertop, causing you to stop speaking immediately. He's never been this angry with you before, or ever, for that matter. His face is red, brows drawn tightly together, veins prominent on his forearms from the adrenaline.

"How could you have been so stupid? You knew what would happen and you did it anyways!" Spencer is trying his best not to outright scream at you, his voice is strained and you stammer to find the words. You can't believe he's actually blaming you for what you did.

"Stupid? If I hadn't done that she would have died. A five year old child would have been slaughtered in front of me. I didn't have time to think about the legality of the situation or how we could have benefitted from keeping the unsub alive, forgive me I forgot you've never made a damn mistake in your life." Anger and sarcasm thickly coat your words as you take a few steps towards him, not keeping your composure as well as him.

You had just shot a man at point blank range to save a girl's life not three hours ago, and had been suspended from the FBI for one. And here you are, having a screaming match with Spencer in his kitchen. You had expected him at least to console you, to reassure you that you had done the right thing, but instead he criticizes you.

His apartment had always been your safe haven. After particularly rough cases, the two of you would return here and hold each other close for however long it took to be okay again. He would make your favorite tea, and you would read him whatever book he wanted, wrapped up in each other's arms, safe. This place was supposed to protect you two from the horrors of the world, be your own little slice of peace. But within the blink of an eye, your safe haven turned into your own personal hell.

"He could have given us so much more information about other victims. There was no guarantee she would have died. If you would have just thought things through none of this would have happened." He shakes his head, voice dropping octaves and it chills you to your core. Your jaw sets tightly and your chest constricts with emotion. After everything you two had overcome together, you can't believe this is the last straw.

"You know what Spencer, you were the one person I thought I could count on to back me up on this." You say, taking steps back and accepting the hard reality that things can never be the same. You turn and make your way to his bedroom and find your bag at the end of the bed. In a rush, you open it and throw some of your belongings in before zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder.

As you pass him in the kitchen you dig into your pocket and find your keys. With trembling fingers, you take the key to the apartment off the ring and toss it on the counter. Without stopping to gauge his reaction, you reach the front door and turn the handle. Before you take your last steps out of the apartment, you turn back and face him. The man you had planned a life with is now unrecognizable to you, and you force yourself not to cry in front of him. Knowing this could very well be the last time you ever see him, you find it within yourself to say something.

"What happened?" Your voice breaks, betraying your false attitude of confidence. Before he can speak, you close the door behind you and put one foot in front of the other with no destination in mind.

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

-----

Your fingers ghost over the picture frame, and a lone tear streams down your cheek. It's hard saying how many tears you've shed over the entire situation, and you're sure this won't be the last.

After a while, you find yourself on your couch, snuggled underneath a faux fur blanket and staring at your wall of photos. Their smiles seem to be wider tonight, like they're encouraging you to make a choice. Something within you blooms, a spark of hope burns in your chest and you know that you've made your decision.

The love of the job, the love of helping people, is far stronger than your sorrows over Spencer. You've had five years to come to terms with that relationship ending, but you've never been able to come to terms with losing the job you worked so hard for. Besides, you're not going to let a man force you to change your plans for the future.

Your hands find your phone and you email your resignation to your boss at the university. It's past midterms, and everyone is performing well enough so you decide to pass them all, no final exam needed for anyone.

Not caring about the fallout of your abrupt resignation, you get to work filling out the reinstatement forms. You feel a familiar buzz, the one that has your fingertips tingling with excitement and it's clear that you're making the right decision. You're going to be back where you rightfully belong.

- - - - - The next morning you step off the elevator with the file clutched tightly by your side. Butterflies flutter in your tummy but you force yourself to hold your head high as you open the office doors. You've made a point to dress your best, wanting your reinstatement to be memorable and show people that you're back for good; and you mean business.

Hotch's door is open and so you let yourself in. His eyes widen when he sees you and motions for you to take a seat. He eyes the folder in your hands and you can tell from the way he sets his pen down that he's nervous about what you've come here to say. You could have fun with this moment and make him sweat with anticipation, but you're not cruel and your excitement surely shows through your façade.

"I take it you've come to a decision?" He breaks the silence and meets your eyes. You nod your head, trying your hardest to keep a neutral expression.

"I have." You say and slide the file across his desk. Hotch opens the front cover and you see his shoulder relax, he lets out a breath he had been holding.

"I was hoping you'd come back." He smiles and stands from the desk, extending his hand for you to take. Unable to keep a smile off your face, you feel like this is your first day all over again; bright eyed and hopeful for the future.

"Couldn't keep me away." You tell him and he drops your hand. The clock on his wall reads ten minutes until ten, and you're hopeful that he lets you sit in on the morning's briefing.

"You know the drill, conference room in ten." He says and places the file on a stack on his desk. With a nod of your head, you exit his office and go back to the bullpen, where your confidence falters and reality sets in.

You had convinced yourself last night that the love of this job would be enough but you can't deny the creeping anxiety you feel. How is the rest of the team going to react? And what are you going to do if they're unwelcoming? You know you can count on Spencer being unwelcoming, but you hope the others aren't. You've missed them more than anything.

Ten minutes flies by too quickly for your liking. You had shown up to the conference room early, too anxious about running into someone to do anything else. But one by one the team files in, luckily Hotch comes first and you know with him here nobody will dare say anything to your face. Derek, Emily, and JJ come in shortly after Hotch, each giving you a small smile as they take their seat around the table. The tension is palpable in the air, almost as if an energy is buzzing between all of you. But when Spencer makes his appearance, it's like your heart drops into your stomach.

He blatantly ignores you, opting to take the farthest seat from you, sipping his morning cup of coffee. You try not to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye you can notice even more changes about him. His style, for starters, is one of the biggest changes. It seems he's ditched his sweaters and instead has replaced them with simple button ups, sleeves rolled to his elbows with a simple black tie.

Your heart rate increases as you realize this is not the same man you remember, he seems intimidating now; which is never how you would have described him before. He's not the Spencer you knew at all, and you're not sure if that makes you relieved or pained. Pulling you out of your train of thought, Hotch begins the morning meeting.

"Now, I'm just going to address the elephant in the room. We've regained one of our best team members, and I'm confident that we can all work cohesively together moving forward." You know who his words are for, everyone does. But luckily, Hotch moves on, bringing up pictures of young girls and this time, JJ speaks up.

"Three girls have gone missing in Northeast Harbor, Maine. It's right by the Acadia National Park which makes it a highly traveled place. Each girl attended the local high school, all in the same class. The first went missing three weeks ago, the second went missing two weeks ago, and the third went missing one day ago." JJ gives us the rundown of the case, and you take as many mental notes as you can, feeling a little out of practice from the order of operations. And you don't miss how similar this is to the case the team was working when you were suspended. In fact, this case is eerily similar.

"Local police have called us in before a fourth goes missing. They've found no evidence that the girls have been killed, so we treat this case as missing persons. Wheels up in fifteen." Hotch says, dismissing the team. You know that you will get more details on the flight to Maine, so you don't sweat the smaller details of the case.

Everyone gets up to leave, Spencer is the first out of the room and it's almost as if being in that room was the worst form of torture for him. With a sigh, you get up and follow the others, trying not to dwell on Spencer's actions too much. After all, you knew this was coming.

"It's good to have you back." Emily says as you pass her desk, and you smile, stopping to talk with her.

"It's good to be back. I didn't think I'd ever get this chance." You tell her truthfully, trying to gauge her reactions to you being here. She smiles warmly, her fingers curled around a disposable coffee cup.

"When Strauss retired, bringing you back was one of the first things Hotch wanted to do." She says, which surprises you. With raised eyebrows, you perch on the edge of her desk.

"Really? And everyone was okay with it?" You inquire, wanting to see if she'll give you any helpful information about everyone else's feelings about having you back. She takes a sip of her coffee and nods.

"Really. After you were suspended we conducted our own investigation into the matter and we even went to Strauss about it. But she wouldn't change her mind, no matter what evidence we showed her." Emily sighs and takes another drink. You had never heard of any sort of investigations or other findings, it's all news to you.

"What did you all find?" You ask, nervous to know what had happened after you had been dismissed from service. Emily's eyes look around the bullpen before she steps closer to you.

"We found a notebook at the unsub's house, full of information about the other victims, almost like a step-by-step replay of how he abducted them. We found the other three missing girls locked away in the shed behind his house. It didn't matter if he lived through that day or not, we had saved them all." Her words hit you hard, like you had just walked headfirst into a brick wall. Your mouth falls agape in shock.

Strauss' reasoning for having you suspended was that the use of deadly force wasn't warranted, that it was unnecessary and excessive. Even though he had a knife to a girl's throat, she was hellbent on the idea that had he lived more information would've been found. But the information was found not even twenty four hours after your suspension.

"So you're telling me that not even a full day after she suspended me you all found the other girls alive and well? Killing him didn't affect anything?" You almost can't believe what you're hearing. Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder,

"We did. And when you killed him you likely saved that girls' life. His notebook told us that he was planning on ramping up his attacks."  You feel like you could get sick. Out of the corner of your eye you see Spencer walking towards his desk, but all you can focus on is the revelation Emily just revealed to you.

"So my suspension was for nothing?" Your voice wavers as it all sinks in. You had indeed saved that girls life, and hadn't even ruined the chance of finding the others. Your fingers grip the edge of her desk tightly. Emily's grasp on your shoulder tightens, and she brings you in for a hug.

"We all tried our best, but Strauss wasn't having it. But we're glad you're back. We've missed you." She says, backing out of the embrace and leaving you shell-shocked on her desk as she goes to throw away her coffee cup.

-----

The jet is silent as everyone reviews information for the case. Your eyes read the words but your distracted mind can't comprehend them. No, your mind is too busy mulling over the fact that your suspension had been needless. And if that was needless, so was your fight with Spencer. Things didn't have to be this way, but they were.

Your eyes flicker up to Spencer, who's sitting across the jet from you, eyes trained on the papers in front of him. His beauty still manages to take your breath away, though you know you should hate him. You should despise him, but you can't. Some of your fondest memories are shared with him. And no matter how cruel his words were to you, you can't erase the love you still hold for him.

Probably feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and meets your eyes for the first time in five years. Your heart thumps erratically. While his style might have changed and his hair might be curlier now, his eyes are still the same.

You remember waking up and seeing those eyes shining down at you. The memories of looking into those eyes for comfort and love are not lost on you, your heart yearns for more of those moments; but you know that might never happen again.

All too soon, Spencer breaks eye contact with you and continues reading the file. Even more distracted than before, you feign reading the case file. You know you should be trying your best to absorb the information given this is your first case back but your mind is flooded with memories on this jet.

Everywhere you look, you can remember a moment you shared with Spencer. How he would beat you at chess every time, how you two would fall asleep next to each other on the bench seat, hands intertwined. Even the bathroom holds memories of when he would clean blood off of you from particularly bad cases, and how he would hold you as if you were the most precious artifact.

And all of that ended, all of it in the blink of an eye.

You bite the inside of your cheeks as to not cry from the overwhelming emotions you're not longer able to suppress and force yourself to read the words on the paper. Your body betrays you, and a single tear drops from your cheeks and stains the paper.

By the time the jet lands, you've somehow managed to read the case file front to back and have the information basically memorized. A sense of deja vu dances in your head, seeing similarities to the last case you worked. But this time, you vow to yourself that you won't get suspended. In fact, you'd be surprised if you're given any responsibility except for victimology.

-----

Just as you figured, you've been stuck with victimology. Which is fine, you're definitely not about to complain about what responsibilities you're saddled with; you're just happy to be back.

Unfortunately, Spencer has been tasked with the geographic profile, as usual, which means you two are forced to work in close quarters in the police precinct. You're not sure if Hotch did this on purpose or not, but you do your best to keep your head down and get your work done well. You want to impress the team on your first case back to show them you still have what it takes, that you deserve to be here.

You have pictures of the missing girls spread in front of you, and you take your time to study their physicality, to pick out any similarities they share to suggest why they may have been singled out. Your keen eye for detail hasn't deteriorated in the past five years, and you're able to make a list of all physical similarities before you move onto other types of similarities.

While you try your best to focus solely on your work, it's hard to concentrate when Spencer is so close. He's too close for comfort, you can smell his cologne and all you want to do is to be wrapped up in his arms so you can fully appreciate how good he smells. You want to bury your face into the curve of his neck, to feel his skin on yours.

Truthfully, after things ended with you and Spencer, you couldn't bring yourself to let another man touch you. The thought of anyone's hands on you except for Spencer's made you nauseous. You only want him to know your body like that, and beyond the physicality, Spencer knows you on such a deeply intellectual level, an intimate level.

Your gaze travels from your list to his back, watching as he pushes pins into a map. His shoulders strain against the button up, showing you that's he's put on some muscle. It looks good on him, everything about him looks good. It's hard to believe that this is the same man you had planned your life with.

He abruptly turns around from the board, and you're caught red-handed. His eyes immediately find yours that are already trained on him. The expression on his face is unreadable, you silently beg for him to say something, anything, even if it is a criticism. You just need to hear his honeyed, smooth voice say your name. You see him swallow before he clears his throat and returns to his work.

Your throat constricts and you hastily stand from your seat, needing some fresh air. You push past officers walking down the hall and practically run outside. Once the sunshine hits your skin, you try to take some breaths and calm your racing mind. Where your mind should be occupied on the case, the only thing you can think of is Spencer.

Maybe your love for the job just isn't going to be enough for you to get through this.

While standing outside to regain your wits, the team returns and Hotch looks at you with confusion. In fact, they all do, but Hotch is the only one to say something.

"Why are you out here? Is everything okay?" He looks over you and can probably easily see indications of stress. But you hope to stave him off, and downplay the situation.

"I'm fine, just needed some fresh air is all." You smile up at him, really trying to sell your story as the truth. You definitely can't tell him you almost regret being reinstated.

"Yeah, okay. Well, we need you inside to review everything." From the sound of his voice you know he doesn't buy it, but doesn't push the matter any further.

The pit in your stomach returns as you realize you only have a portion of the victimology done. You should have it nearly completed but you couldn't focus for more than five minutes. Internally, you kick yourself and start figuring out what explanation you're going to give.

The entire team crowds in a small conference room within the precinct, ready to debrief on today's findings. Those working in the field speak up first, lending their theories about what kind of person we're looking for. But you already know the kind of monster you're looking for, it's the same as the man you shot.

Your turn comes around and you let out a sigh. Maybe you can blame your rusty skills on the suspension. They might buy it.

"The victims, as we know, are all within the same age range as each other with similar physical features. It's likely that these victims remind the unsub of someone he has a history with." You begin your on-the-fly analysis and hope they can't see right through you. Knowing you still have work to do, you finish with telling them you're wrapping up the additional research. Thankfully, they all receive your answer well.

You turn from the board to take your seat again, meeting Spencer's eyes once more. You can't tell if he's unimpressed or if he's inside his own mind. Quite frankly, you'd rather not know. The thought of him being unimpressed with you feels like a hot iron being pushed through your torso because you remember how euphoric it felt to receive his praise.

-----

"You know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself." You fight off a laugh, watching your boyfriend scramble for the documents on your desk. He's insisting that he finish your reports so the two of you can go home early. The thought is nice, but you feel bad for him having to do more work.

"I know you can do it and that you'll do it perfectly, but I want to." He says, finally grabbing the file from your hand. With a huff, you let him take the victory and stand from your seat, going to return your dirty mug to the break room.

When you come back into the bullpen, you can't help but to admire how handsome Spencer is. The angles of his nose and jaw are perfection, and his curly brown hair is the softest you've ever felt. After two years of being together, you have yet to find a flaw.

You perch yourself on the edge of his desk, watching his scribbled handwriting fly across the page. As long as Hotch doesn't catch on that Spencer's doing your work, you suppose you can let him finish it this once. While he works to finish the report, your fingers rake through his hair, eager to go home for the night.

You don't really feel like going out, you're tired from the return back to Quantico today and so you hope Spencer doesn't mind staying in. You'll let him pick the movie, and you'll make his favorite dessert; it'll be a picture perfect evening together.

After he's done, you two walk hand in hand down to your car, and you make the familiar trip to Spencer's apartment. Well, to your apartment as well. The two of you had agreed that it makes more financial sense for you to move in with him, and so you did without a second thought.

As the sun sets, casting a warm golden glow throughout the apartment, you close your eyes and snuggle into Spencer's side. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head and reminds you of what a good job you did on the case. The simple moments like these are your favorite, where the two of you are content with just the presence of the other.

-----

Hours later, you're still at the precinct trying to get the victimology done before going back to the hotel. You were hoping Spencer would've left with the rest of the team, but he insisted that he still has work to do. So it's just the two of you working in strained silence.

Every once in a while you glance up at him, only to see that he's engrossed in his work. The familiar crinkle of his eyebrows is prominent as he studies the map in front of him, and you know that before too long he'll reach the conclusion he's looking for. His mind works in mysterious ways that you can't even begin to comprehend.

Not wanting to be caught staring again, you put pen to paper and write out your thoughts and theories. You know that the unsub is physically weak because he's decided to go after young girls and that the unsub is likely a staff member or someone trusted, seeing as how the girls all vanished on school grounds without a commotion. Your pen taps the table as your brain works to flesh out a better profile of the unsub.

About an hour later, your mind is exhausted and you know that even if you stay up trying to figure it out that you won't be able to come up with anything good. Your brain needs a break from critical thinking. You tuck the contents of the file inside rather haphazardly, the thought of a hotel bed is enticing, so enticing that you almost forget Spencer is here with you; that is until you hear him call your name. Feeling as if a weight had been dropped into your stomach, you swallow your nerves and turn to face him. His doe eyes look soft, unlike the guarded expression he wore earlier.

"Yeah?" You ask, thankful your voice doesn't show him how nervous you are. He places the cap back on his marker and rolls up the maps he was working on. With each step that he takes closer to you, your heart thumps harder until he's right in front of you, within your arm's reach.

"It's late, you shouldn't walk back to the hotel alone." He states in a soft tone. Everything within you wants to accept his offer immediately, but the guarded part of you won't let you. Within the last five years you and Spencer had been separated, you had become hyper-independent; and now that part is trying to take control in order to spare your feelings.

"I should be okay, it's only a few blocks away. I wouldn't want to interrupt your work." You say and adjust the grasp you have on your file, going to step away from him. The second your head turns, you feel his hand wrap around your arm gently. His hand is warm, and familiar.

"I've been done with my work for the last two hours." He admits, and your eyebrows crease together.

"Then why stay here? You could've gone back with the team." The confusion is prominent in your voice. It just doesn't make sense, and Spencer is a man that prides himself on making logical choices. He licks his lips, a nervous habit you had picked up during your first year on the team.

"Well I just- I just needed to make sure that you got back alright." You can see the insecurity from the slouch in his shoulders and his stumbling of words. Your throat is dry, and you feel yourself start panicking. You don't know what to do. A part of you just wants to kiss him but the other part remembers the look on his face when he called your actions stupid.

"Hotch reinstated me, I have my gun back. I'll be okay." You reason with him, eyes darting down to the holster on your hip.

"I know that. But, please, just let me walk you back." He practically begs. You know you don't have a good reason to tell him no, other than for selfish reasons. So you just nod, and he follows you out of the precinct.

The streetlights offer a good amount of light, and the critters in the trees hoot and chirp around, bringing life to the dark. Besides the wildlife, your footsteps are the only other thing to be heard. That is, unless he can hear how your heart is about to beat out of your chest. Never in this lifetime did you ever think this scenario was plausible, yet here you are. Walking side by side with Spencer as if you two didn't once share everything under the sun. As you walk back, you know your time is limited, and there's one burning question you've wanted to ask.

"Spencer, why didn't you tell me that the team had found those girls the next day?" Your voice is hoarse from how dry your throat is, and Spencer slows his pace. He looks down to the sidewalk and licks his lips before answering.

"I didn't think you would want me to contact you. You left your key on the counter and packed a bag, I knew you weren't coming back." His voice is quiet and sounds pained. Your pace slows to match his.

"I mean, I had just shot a man and you told me I was stupid." You point out, vividly recalling the sound of his hand coming into contact with the countertop. Your heart shatters a little more each time you think about it. It's still hard to believe that your loving Spencer was capable of being so angry with you. Glancing from the sidewalk to Spencer's face, you don't miss how his lower lash line looks wet. His hands are tucked into his pockets, eyes glued to the pavement, until they snap up and see you standing there, illuminated only by the streetlamp.

"You weren't stupid. You did what you had to do to save the girl. I was just scared. I was so scared of what they were going to do to you. They suspended you and I didn't know if it was going to end there. I thought maybe that they might even press criminal charges." He tells you, and while it makes sense, it still doesn't justify his actions in your mind.

"I was scared out of my mind. That was the first person I ever killed." You tell him, aware that he already knows that. But if you all are rehashing the past, why not bring it up? You'd be lying if you said you weren't trying to slightly guilt trip him.

"I should have been there for you, no matter what they were going to do. I panicked and made you leave your home." His voice cracks and you feel your own voice constrict. Your free hand balls into a fist to keep yourself from reaching out to him and comforting him.

"You had to protect yourself too. If you defended me too much, you could've been facing suspension as well." You had thought over the entire scenario every day for the last five years and know that part of his reaction was likely to protect himself as well. It hurts, but you understand. The job is everything to him.

"I would have rather been suspended than lose you." A lone tear drips down his cheekbone. Your brain feels like it's short circuiting from trying to keep up with everything that he's telling you. But you recognize the gravity of the situation you're in and you know that this is your chance to start making amends or burn the remnants.

"Spencer. This is, this is a lot-" You start speaking but he's cutting you off.

"Please, take your time and think about it. I'll give you all the time in the world if that's what you need." His words bring some relief, the pressure of making an on-the-fly decision while mentally exhausted is alleviated, but you know you're going to have to figure things out soon.

The two of you walk back to the hotel in silence, save for a sniffle here and there from Spencer. You decide that you'll work this case and go back to Quantico, and by then you should have your mind made up. He walks you to your door and bids you a goodnight before returning to his own room. As he walks down the hall, a small part of you already knows what decision you're going to make.

-----

The team had the case solved in three days. It was easy enough, the unsub practically singled himself out in staff interviews and the girls were all found alive, thankfully. He had been keeping them in a cellar attached to his house, bound and gagged. You're glad this one ended without incident, and you're grateful to see the reunification of the girls with their parents.

But, the job never stops, and so the team loads back onto the jet to Quantico. You feel Spencer's eyes on you for the entire ride back, but you do your best to ignore him. You had your mind made up, but you just weren't sure of what you wanted to say and you knew that if you looked at him that you would give yourself away. The perfect words are needed to fully express your sentiments, it needs to be done right. Plus, he said you had all the time in the word. But, the part of you that's missed him for the last five years is becoming very impatient and you know you're going to tell him soon.

As the team disembarks from the jet, talking about their weekend plans, you come up with what you believe is a good idea. The team waltzes into the office and conducts their investigation reports, excited to start their weekend while you fill your file out with the utmost haste, you practically buzz with anticipation.

"You got a hot date to get to or something?" You hear Derek ask you, gaining the attention from some of the others, Spencer included. Your eyes bounce from him back to Derek and you shake your head.

"Oh, no I just want to get it all on paper before I forget." You lie, probably very unsuccessfully judging by the look Derek gives you, but he drops it. Within seconds, he's back to talking about his plans to Emily.

Twenty minutes later and you're practically running out of the office and to your apartment. Before you carry out your idea you want to make sure you look your best. So you take your time to shower, do your hair, and pick out a flattering outfit. If everything goes accordingly, this could very well be the start of a new beginning.

-----

Standing outside of an all too familiar door, you knock before you can talk yourself out of it. You hear footsteps on the other side, and within seconds, the door swings open. Spencer stands in the doorway, looking as if he's seen a ghost. His mouth drops open and he blinks at you a few times.

"Can I come in?" You ask, knocking him out of his daze. He nods enthusiastically,

"Yes, of course." He opens the door wider for you and you step over the threshold.

The apartment is almost exactly how you left it. In fact, you see that your belongings are still on display. Your favorite blanket is draped over the couch, the rug you had picked out is splayed underneath the coffee table, and the artwork you had chosen still adorns the walls. You figured he would've thrown everything of yours out. He comes to stand beside you, watching your reaction as you take it all in.

"I couldn't bring myself to change anything. I hoped that one day you would come back." He says, looking down at you. The eyes that meet yours are the same ones that you looked to for comfort, all that time ago, and are now finding a new comfort from them.

"I figured it would all be gone." You admit and take one more look around. He shakes his head.

"Would you like some coffee? I have the blend from the shop down the street." Spencer offers, heading towards the kitchen. Your heart swells knowing that he still gets coffee from your favorite shop. He had never been the biggest fan of their particular blend, but he still got it because he knew it was your favorite. And it seems like he never stopped getting it.

"Yeah, that would be nice, thank you." As he walks off into the kitchen, you let yourself walk around to inspect the apartment some more. Your fingertips graze over the blanket on the couch and you notice that on the coffee table there's a book. But it's not just any book, it's the one you had been reading before that fateful night, and when you open it, you see that the bookmark is still there, left at the exact spot you had left off.

Spencer walks back into the room and sees you holding the book. He puts the coffee down on the table and licks his lips, watching as your eyes scan the page. You close the book and put it down, taking a spot on the couch. It's still just as comfortable as you remember. Wanting to enjoy the nostalgia and old comforts, you take your time sipping on the coffee, reminiscing.

"You know, I never thought I'd ever leave this place." You speak, looking out of the window, seeing traffic passing by. The last bit of coffee makes its way down your throat and you know you've stalled for long enough.

"I never wanted you to leave." Spencer says after a few moments of silence. You set the cup on the coffee table and look over at him. He's taken a spot on the opposite side of the couch. Your heartstrings tug and you begin questioning why this all had to happen in the first place.

"You told me you would give me all the time I needed." You start your well-rehearsed rhetoric, and he nods.

"As long as you need." His voice is soft and genuine. You feel your fingertips buzz with anxiety, and you pick at the seams of your pants, trying to alleviate the jittering.

"I've taken as long as I needed. Well, I've actually taken more time than I needed but I wanted to be sure of what I was choosing." You feel your hands start to shake, you're not sure why you're so nervous. This is your Spencer. But it feels like the first time meeting him all over again. His eyes are intently on you, studying every micro expression.

"And?" He swallows hard, eyes growing slightly wider. You break his gaze and look around the cozy apartment. This feels like home.

"And I feel like the last five years I've been wandering with no destination. I got a new job, new apartment, but it all felt temporary. And I was never sure why. I tried to replace everything, furniture, new books, all of it; but it never felt like mine." You explain, taking the long route to the point.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you. The energy between the two of you is practically buzzing with nervousness.

"But I guess what I'm trying to say is that this feels like home. Being here, with you, feels like home." Your bottom lip quivers as the words pass your lips. Thinking the words and saying they hold two very different gravities.

Spencer's shoulder visibly relax and he lets out a breath. He smiles widely at you, tears threatening to spill over onto his face. You feel your own eyes water, and the hole in your heart feels as if a little of it is mending.

"It doesn't feel like home without you." He says and crosses the couch, pulling you into his embrace.

The feeling of his arms around you causes the withheld tears to fall, dripping down your cheek and landing on his arms. It's almost surreal that this is happening. What you thought had lost, what had slipped away from you, is returning you and allowing you to begin again.

"I am so sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it, and I hope you know that. This doesn't even begin making up for any of it, but I will work every day to prove to you that I am better. I love you so much it hurts." Your heart swells at his words, and you know he means them. The way he's holding you is all the proof of authenticity you need.

"I love you too, I've missed you every single day." You tell him, voice breaking while you hold onto him tightly.

Your eyes close as you savor the feeling of him holding you. Spencer presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you look up at him with watery eyes.

The golden sunlight filtering in from the window illuminates his glistening honey eyes. Your hand comes up and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. Gently, your thumb caresses his cheekbone, appreciating his beauty up close once more.

When his eyes open, finding you staring back at him, it's like Spencer has his own gravitational pull. Before you know it, he's tucking your hair behind your ear and holding your face, bringing you closer to him. After five long years of waiting for this moment again, your lips finally meet his.

It's just like the first kiss you ever shared. You're nervous, but full of excitement for the future. You can't possibly imagine anything ending between the two of you again. And sure, it might take time to heal each other, but you're finally back home where you belong and that's good enough for now.

Spencer deepens the kiss, and you smile into it, already falling back into pattern with ease. It's like the two of you were made for each other; two halves of one whole.

When your lungs beg for oxygen, you break away from him with warm, swollen lips and rosy cheeks. Leaning your forehead against his, your adjust so that he's laying back against the armrest and your situated between his legs, your back to his chest.

There are no words to bring justice to the fullness you feel. The hole that was created when you walked out of that door is filling itself back in with each second you spend in his arms. You're content for the first time in a long time.

As you lean your head back against his chest, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this is just the beginning of a long, fulfilling life with Spencer. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your face, whispering to you that he loves you once more.