#we would usually sit in lines after changing clothes and wait for instructions from our gym coaches

[mars-ipan]

what was one of your formative gay experiences when you were a kid. a big one for me was random girls in gym class asking if they could play with my hair

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

[snuggetfish]

Do you have any majima relationship headcanons or dadjima headcanons that you've never shared with us before? We always send our requests to you, but what about situations you think about with majima/dadjima and how you'd think he'd be in them?

Mmm had to sit on this one for quite a while to gather my thoughts. I tend to also insert a lot of little personal headcanons in my requests, but under the cut are some I haven’t talked about yet! 👀

I’ll start off mildly spicy by saying that Majima probably sleeps naked or almost naked most nights. Well, most nights where he actually manages to get some sleep. He’s usually exhausted enough to want to crash as soon as possible, so after he strips, he really can’t be bothered with pyjamas or house clothes. I’m doubtful he even owns any, since he anyway spends almost no time in his apartment... 

But, because Majima’s so fond of being nude, once he gets a partner, cuddles feel all the more intimate. He can mould his entire body around them, using the warmth of full skin contact as a means of falling sound asleep 💙 During the night though, expect him to gravitate towards his “natural” sleeping position: the T-pose. Best for snoring as well.

For his mourning routine, there’s nothing like that first cigarette of the day. Paired with coffee only if his partner is awake before him and can tempt him with a cup. Otherwise he’s got a stash of energy drinks at the office that’ll keep him going throughout most of the day.

When it comes to food, Majima doesn’t strike me as a picky eater. He maybe has one or two ingredients he doesn’t care for, but if they’re tossed inside a warm, generally tasty dish, he won’t complain. In fact, he’s actually more than a little moved every time someone cooks for him. Just knowing that they care, that they’re willing to share their home, their food and a fundamental human bonding moment - meal time - with a man most people would never consider having over for dinner... it chips off a bit of that hardened shell he’s made around the marshmallow he calls a heart. 

Add this to Majima’s natural curious streak and I think he’d be the kind of boyfriend and husband who always enthusiastically praises his partner’s cooking and, if let’s say they’re from a non-Japanese background, encourages them to show him also some traditional dishes from their culture. Though don’t rely on him too much when it comes to helping with the preparation. He can follow instructions, sure, but he gets too easily distracted and tends to be a serial snacker. If there are edible things lying around waiting to be thrown in the pot... he’ll sneakily “sample” them when his partner’s not looking.

One change that occurs in his preferences once he enters a stable relationship is that he goes from being a strict shower-only guy to the more typical “nightly soak in the tub” kinda ojisan. As far as I understand it’s pretty common among Japanese to bathe every evening, just stewing away all the day’s worries. And I think for Majima this would be even more cathartic with a partner. 

His bathtub is a spacious, top-of-the-line appliance that only existed to gather dust before he realized the potential of underwater cuddles. It takes him a while to discover all its nifty functions (because... ojisan) but once he does, bath time becomes almost a ritual. Now, you’re technically supposed to wash outside the tub, but if it’s just the two of them... he gets to run his hands all over his beloved’s body and get pampered in return, with soapy scrubs and a nice scalp massage while they wash his hair. And maybe a pair of foam boobs while they’re at it.

Ok, onto the Dadjima ones 💖

We all know Majima has a soft spot for little girls so of course if he had a daughter it would be his ultimate dream come true. He’d treat her not just like a princess, but a queen! 👑 Right but maybe... that’s precisely the point where he’d run into issues, when his daughter turns out to be quite the tomboy. He wants to be the best dad he can be of course, but like most people of his generation, he’s still shaped by society’s gender roles. His “Kodak moment” daydreams probably go a bit like this: with a son he’d play Godzilla to his lego city and arm wrestle him at least once a year to gauge how strong he’s grown... and with daughter he’d put together a whole wardrobe of cute dresses and bring Goromi out to attend her plushie tea parties.

He means well, but there’s inevitably going to be a moment where he realizes that his fantasies do not overlap with reality. His daughter’s much more drawn to the toys that aren’t all “girly girl”, same for her outfits and play activities... This undoubtedly would disappoint Majima at first, but it would also give him a valuable opportunity to reflect on why he feels disappointed. Reanalyze his biases and maybe conclude that a guy like him whose whole life has been about rebelling from what’s seen as “normal” has no business forcing his own kids into the boxes he considers normal.

But here’s a thought that just occurred to me: if his daughter was into princesses and especially drawing them... what if every single princess she draws sports very elaborate, very large tattoos? Listen, princesses are pretty. Daddy has tattoos. Goromi is the prettiest princess she knows so... Connect the dots 😌 Teachers who happen to see these drawings would have a bit of a shock though, as it dawns on them that the tattoo isn’t just flowers, it’s also snakes... and demon ladies!

This is a sweet image I sometimes think about: Majima taking his kids to festivals. The munchkins looking cute in their little yukatas, pleading with dad for a bite of every single enticing festival food (taiyaki in particular being a big fave) and of course trying their skills at the various games. And although festivals usually bring out Majima’s competitive side, it seems he’s “inexplicably” losing to his young opponents every single time... 🤔

Saejima would probably tag along to these events too. He’s there to keep an extra eye on the kids as they could easily get lost in the crowd, but for his troubles is rewarded with the role of... bag and coat carrier. He gets his revenge at some point though, when Majima’s kids bluntly declare they like hanging out at the Saejima family office a lot more than at dad’s. The reason is simple: kitties. Lots and lots of kitties.

Back to Majima though 👀 Why does a guy who doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth always order himself a dessert when going out for family meals? It couldn’t be that a good 2/3rds of that dessert always ends up surrendered to a very eager kid... Sugar isn’t the best thing to get them hooked on, but Majima considers it compensation for all the days he makes a mental note to bring back ice cream before coming home, but... forgets, because that’s just how he is.

And finally, a scenario for when Majima’s kid gets older.

What if one day he comes home a little early and stumbles upon his daughter, already in her late teens, sneaking a cigarette out on the balcony? Yeah it’s a good hiding place, but the outside noise means she also can’t hear her dad coming in... However Majima is less concerned with how he’s technically just caught her doing something “bad” and more struck by her image: long, silky black hair swept into a ponytail, looking at the city below, through the haze of bluish smoke. It’s like an old snapshot, like he's somehow looking at himself from all those years ago. Except, unlike the Lord of the Night was at the time... she's free.

The comparison to his younger self is even more poignant when he joins her and lights his own smoke, much to her surprise and panic. But as it becomes clear he’s not there to scold her, the moment is one of silent, tender closeness. Majima might note with a chuckle that, just like him when he was a little yakuza runt, she doesn’t seem to enjoy the nicotine taste much. 

Because really I think teen Maji was bursting into coughing fits after every single drag if no one he particularly cared about impressing was looking. Only once he got out of the Hole and was thrust into the high stress environment at the Grand did he get properly addicted, using cigs as both stress-relievers and meal replacements...

In the end, Majima’s not going to forbid it or punish her. All he hopes is that her life ends up filled with distractions much more pleasant than smoking, so she never has to follow in his footsteps 💙

[clubyukhei]

wayv react series: tiktok couple pranks

ten, sicheng, yukhei, dejun, kunhang, yangyang

genre: suggestive fluff

a/n: this has 1.4k words which is... way longer than planned :’) i had a bit too much fun writing this lol. enjoy

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:30PM]

you might think i'm crazy

the way i've been cravin

if i put it quite plainly

just gimme them babies

“you okay, kun-ge?” 

“i am. why would i not be?” 

“you look… tense.”

“i’m fine, sicheng.”

the exchange makes you bite the inside of your cheek. you bite down on it hard and will yourself not to smile — but it’s so hard not to. especially when you catch the look of mild annoyance on your boyfriend’s face. the way he’s trying so hard to play it cool. 

so you glue your eyes to your phone and scroll through your inbox, pretending to be occupied. pretending you have no idea what’s going on. 

“oh. okay.” sicheng replies meekly, moving to the kitchen where kunhang and ten were opening a few tubs of ice cream.

to no one’s surprise, the conversation ends there. nobody ever questions kun after they hear that tone of authority in his voice — but maybe, you’ll be the first to. 

the night started out like any other movie night at the members’ dorms. as per usual, dinner was settled over multiple deliveries from their go-to food spots. but everything changed after yangyang left the dining table as soon as he was done eating.

“yangyang.” kun called out with a rather strict tone, his voice echoing throughout the apartment. 

“yeah?” the youngest member yelled from his room.

“come here.” 

you weren’t new to the responsible and occasionally hard-headed side of your boyfriend. it was pretty normal for you to see him nag at the members for being untidy at home and occasionally, for not behaving professionally when they were outside. 

after all, he was the leader of six boys who stressed him out on a regular basis — one of whom was the same age as him, yet regularly participated in the mischief with the others.

but this time was different. you never heard him speak like that before, never even seen the look of seriousness on his face that was intimidating even to you, an innocent bystander witnessing all of this. 

you didn’t want to admit it at first, but his voice, which was stern and commanding and had the youngest member scattering back into the kitchen in seconds, turned you on like no other.

everyone else minded their own business as kun eyed the spot on the dining table that had been covered in tiny puddles of soup. not a single word was uttered but yangyang, whose eyes kept flickering between the mess he had created and the leader’s jaded gaze, quickly grabbed a wet cloth from the sink and got to cleaning. 

you were parched just watching the scene unfold. you and kun had only started dating a few months ago and you were still learning new things about him, but this was truly something else. a pleasant surprise, if you could call it that.

kun has always been a sweet and reliable man in your eyes, and still is. but you’ve never pushed his buttons or experienced the side of him you saw this evening. the side where he uses that tone. preferably when the two of you are alone, when every word that leaves his lips is heavy with authority and dominance that you find yourself listen to every instruction he gives you, like getting on your knees—

“_____?”

you look up from your phone to see ten staring back at you from the kitchen counter, waiting for an answer. shit. you definitely did not catch what he asked. out of all times to fantasise about your boyfriend… 

dejun, who’s sitting on the floor in front of you and searching for a movie on netflix, turns around. “he asked if you wanted mint chocolate or strawberry.”

“mint chocolate is absolutely disgusting.” yukhei comments, accentuating the last word with abhorrence. the tall boy plops onto the ground next to dejun with a small bowl of strawberry ice cream in one hand.

“oh.” you hum. “strawberry it is. thanks, ten.”

your phone vibrates the second you finish your sentence, frightening you just a bit. when you see the latest notification on your lock screen, a familiar rush of excitement washes over you again. 

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:50PM]

😡

you chuckle to yourself quietly at his reply before taking in the look on his face. his hair, dyed light brown just a few days ago, falls over his forehead and almost hides his eyes — but you don’t miss the way he’s staring at you with an eyebrow raised confidently, as if daring you to continue whatever you were doing.

it’s too much. you find your cheeks flushing a little and you quickly look back to your phone, rereading your conversation with him.

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:30PM]

you might think i'm crazy

the way i've been cravin

if i put it quite plainly

just gimme them babies

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:33PM]

?

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:35PM]

baby you might need a seatbelt when i ride it

i’ma leave it open like a door

come inside it 

even though I'm wifey, you can hit it like a side chick

😙

can you stay up all night? 

fuck me till the daylight 

34+35

[from:🐻] [sent: 9:45PM]

?!?!?!?!?!

[to:🐻] [sent: 9:49PM]

means i wanna 69 with you 🙄

“what are you smiling at, _____? is it those tiktok pranks again? i was telling yangyang the other day that we should handle our tiktok page ourselves. i mean manager hyungs will never allow that of course, but right now we’re not even doing the cool stuff…” 

as yukhei blabbers on, you watch your boyfriend get up from the armchair he had been curled up on and make his way to his room. that’s your cue to leave. 

“make way for the ice cream truck!” kunhang sings as he carefully sets a tray of small bowls, all filled with scoops of green and pink coloured ice cream, onto the coffee table.

“actually yukhei, you can have my ice cream.” you say, getting on your feet.

“really? thanks!” yukhei smiles as kunhang lets out a loud “huh”. 

“wait, are you guys not joining us anymore? we’re watching harry potter tonight!” dejun yells. 

“again?” ten sighs. as you walk down the hallway, you hear him whine about something along the lines of watching another movie for once. 

your hand reaches for the handle of the door to kun’s bedroom, but it swings open and an equally shocked yangyang rushes out as if he wasn’t supposed to be there — even though it was his bedroom too.

you step into the quiet room, shutting the door behind you before turning around to the sight of kun sitting on the edge of his bed relaxedly, his palms flat against the mattress and his legs spread a bit further than usual. there’s that look on his face again.

“hey.” you say softly, not sure how to read him. 

“really?” kun lets out a tiny chuckle. 

“what?”

“don’t act all innocent now.” he whines. “you were asking me to hit it like a side chick, baby. and 34 35, whatever that means.”

you burst into laughter. “it means we should 69. or do i have to explain what that means as well?” 

“god.”

“i’ll let you do anything to me. and i’ll do anything for you.” 

kun groans, running a hand through his hair. that image alone makes you want to rip the white t-shirt off him and to pounce onto him. 

there are a lot of filthy things you want him to do to you. for now, you’ll have to settle for less.

“this is a really sudden, baby. but i’m not complaining.” 

the grin on your face softens into a smirk as you saunter over to him, casually lowering your knees by his sides and planting yourself in his lap. someday he’ll find out what sparked all of this, but not today.

“i said a lot of things, you know. where should we start?” 

he stares back at you incredulously — and yet, his hands are kneading the inside of your thighs. just as he’s about to reply, a bunch of knocks on the door steals both of your attention.

“are y’all joining us or not?” 

it’s ten, who already sounds tired from being surrounded by his younger brothers. 

“we’ll join you guys a bit! go ahead and start without us.” kun shouts.

you turn back to smile at him suggestively, resting your arms on his shoulders and gently massaging the nape of his neck. when he plants wet kisses along your collarbones and up to your jaw, you sigh in satisfaction.

“let’s start by locking the door.”

[han-shinsuke]

l e v i a c k e r m a n

content warning

•s t a r t•

“Still dating,” I really don’t mind elaborating the kind of relationship and interaction Levi and I had every time we were together. As long as he’s happy and contented, I won’t ask and won’t even dare open up if he has plans to level up ‘us’. It’ll just make things complicated between our hearts and our real agenda.

“Did you fuck each other already?”

“What? No.”

Although, some nights, he’s in my dreams, fucking his loads into me until he fulfilled his bank of satisfaction.

Let’s just say I’m indebted to him that’s why I am letting him use me as a bait or a shield againsts those women who tries luring him to a marriage or to any responsibilities that would tie him up in a kind of life he never wanted.

Willa flashes a malicious grin and pinches my side, “what if he asks you to do some job for him, will you do it?” I did not falter when I responded.

“I will if he wants me to but, I’m just a bait and nothing more than that.”

“He’s here.” My friend cocks her head to the main gate and we watch his expensive rover enters our University and park right in front of us, “Levi.” Willa acknowledges his arrival and he responds with a nod, “Willa, it’s good to see you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Wils.” I give my friend a hug and hop on in his car.

Levi drives in silence which was his usual behaviour when we’re together. We lived in a same house but sleeps in different rooms and definitely not into romantics. Though, I’d be happy if we could engage ourselves into it.

He’s just uh, too uptight to be as sweet as a candy.

“Hey there, wait a sec.” His left hand almost got squeezed by the door of my room but he managed to remain calm and unbothered.

The door creaks open and slams closed when we stepped in to my room, him dragging me to the bed I don’t sleep on.

“Wh–why?” I ask when he instructed me to kneel. He sits on the edge, unzips his pants and freed his thing.

I gulp secretly and even curse under my breath. My eyes water at the sight of it and he’s very attentive in cupping my face and wiping the moisture on the corner of my eyes.

“We’ve been dating but you haven’t had a taste of me, right? Let’s start from the bottom, yeah?”

Can I do it? I have never sucked a man’s thing before nor had a chance to touch one.

“You can do it, baby. I’ve seen you licked an ice cream before. Close your eyes if you must, hmm?”

Sounds easy but too hard to execute. I shut my eyes closed. Pray first. Put my trembling hands around his long rod and breathe in strength and confidence.

Its skin feels soft and delicate between my lips but the whole thing is far different. It’s thick and hard as his fingers combing my shoulder length hair, slightly pulling the tension from the scalp. My mouth feels full by just having the tip around the circumference of my lips. It is bigger and harder, enough to piston down the sensitive muscle of a woman.

“Full already?” he teases, grabbing my hair fully as he lifts my head to spit in my mouth. It caught me off having a man’s saliva on my tongue but it feels warm and sweet and arousing that when he dropped his lips onto mine and kissed me hard just to force more of his spittle down my throat, I did nothing but moan alongside with his rough and sloppy kisses.

“Ooh, God!” I gasp after feeling his tight pull on the strands of my hair.

“Do it, baby, ‘kay?” I nod, lowering my head back to his tip, swallowing it first and clenching it against my lips. Levi let out a grunt and before I could even ask if I’m doing the job right, he pushed my head deep to his member, slamming the hard cap against my throat. I squeal and squirm and cry in my head all at once. The feeling of his erection installed fully and deeper in my mouth feels lethal and the tension down my pipe was forcibly undeniable. I let out choking noises and I heard him laugh at it, pulling my head up and slamming it back again. Then pulled again, withdrawing his size to look down at my tears dampened face.

“First time, baby?” I nod again, muffling my cries from the rough force that lingers in my mouth and down my windpipe. I failed in suppressing my cries that’s why I ended up sobbing on his muscular thighs, “ssshh, baby, it’s fine. You hurt?” I shake my head no. Liar. I scream in my head. My throat was throbbing in pain and my mouth feels numb by his huge size that previously stuffed in my airways.

Levi pulls me back to my feet, squeezing my sides with his calloused palms and fingers, face leveling with my chest.

“Why are we doing this?” I sob, holding onto his arms that continuously squeezing and kneading the skin under the uniform I am wearing.

“Can’t we do it?” he asks back, lips thinning into a mischievous grin.

He warms my heart and eases the pain in my throat by lacing his fingers along the lines of my lips, then pushes a digit between it, pressing softly and then poking my tongue with his sharp nail. I closed my eyes as I moan his name, almost like a whisper but loud enough for him to hear.

“Le–Levi... Levi... ” want him to do something to me. Something dirty. Something new. But how can you name a feeling so new, so strange and so addicting?

Another digit was added between my lips, pumping gently, heating the already burning fuel in me, “say it, baby. Say it.” He knows I’m craving for that heat. He’s putting me on the edge like how a bait should be treated. On the edge. On the brink of death.

Completely succumbed, I whisper those filthy shits, “fuck me, please.”

Those words were just a whisper but strong enough to snap him out of his own reverie. I’m just as lost as him. So high and dumb that I didn’t even notice the force he uses on me, tearing the front of my blouse, buttons flying everywhere. Finally, the part of me that aches for some attention, he didn’t think twice and cage the perked buds alternately in his mouth, lapping the pad of his tongue around its tiny size, sucking it hard that makes me bend my top body in a curve of delight as I ask for support through his head.

“Oh my! Levi!” the sounds of his lips between those cruel kiss as he pops each buds with force were enough to take away the remaining sanity in my head. My knees betrayed me, trembling down from the obvious defeat, Levi scoops my weight onto his lap, wrapping my legs with eagerness around his waist, putting his mouth back to business, my grip tightened on his hair, pulling his face tight against my aching breasts.

“Shit, baby!” I feel soaked and it was because of his habit spitting the spot he wants to claim as his own, “damn tits! I can suck these all night aah!” I follow his thirsty moan with a loud gasp and tight squeeze on his shoulders as he devours my chest with so much hunger. The kisses were soft but the teeth works were harsh, leaving marks of his pure desires.

“Come on, Levi! Aah! I–I hhyaahh! I–I need to pee, ooh!” I push his face and look at him pleadingly. The heat was turning up in my stomach. I really need to pee, “Hwait—Aaah!” He bites hard the left bud and I swear I fucking shit myself in my skirt but it was far different from my normal urine. It feels warmer and thicker that a question in my head pops up, “you’re quick to cum.” He confirms it, humping my hips against his protruding erection that has white cream on its tip.

Panting, I crash my lips on his and he’s quick to catch mine and give it the kiss I wanted.

“Levmmpphhh! Haahhh! Too hard hhmmpp!” He uses more of his teeth and tongue, biting the corner then licking the part he made to bleed a little. Levi was strong, his arms were crashing me with its tight embrace, holding me with so much force and selfishness. Trying my best to cope up with his need, I return the kiss in a very sensual manner, moving softly on his lower lip, nipping it, sliding my tongue inside his mouth. The table was turned. His kisses changes course, mimicking the slow pace of my mouth on his.

“Hmmm... ” I moan between his hungry but careful kisses, swallowing everything he could.

The kiss paused for a moment, engaging our eyes full of lust, I dip my mouth once again for a quick smack on his softness. He smiles, tugging down the blouse he tore apart down my elbows, exposing the cold skin of my shoulder and back. I tilt my head voluntarily for him to dip his own with ease. His hot mouth touch my skin, tracing warm kisses from my shoulder up to my neck. He blows a kiss on my throat and suck its skin, nibbling, determined to leave another mark .

“Fuck me, Levi. I want you in. Rail me, please.” He chuckles against my skin, peppering my softness with his cruel kisses. God. Unknowingly, humping and grinding my bottom against his hardness that screams for attention and womanly flesh.

“So desperate, baby huh! Can you take me huh? You don’t blame me if things gone wrong huh?” I won’t hold him accountable for things I pleaded him to do. I want it and I’ll deal with it.

Levi lays me down on the bed, pulling my lower half near the edge, folding my thighs to his heart’s desires after removing my undergarments. He eyed me down there carefully, constantly looking at my worried face. He must have noticed it, the flesh blocking his passage.

“I won’t scream. I won’t make a sound and I won’t hold on to you.” I heard these information from all the girls he had fucked to sleep. He despises women who screams, who cries and those who dares touch him while reeling deep a hole.

It would be painful, I know, but I prefer myself ready if something like this happened and it’s happening.

Levi tosses the clothes around the room, flaunting his perfect built and massive thing. I hold my legs for him, shutting my close as he rubs his tip on the hood, gradually pushing its head.

“G–go on... ” I encourage him, tilting my head to the left, biting my lips hard.

“You desperate little shit!” I unconsciously let go of my legs to cover my mouth when he goes really deep and penetrates the intact hymen to reach the place only his thing can touch.

My whole body shakes as my fingers clutches the bedsheet for external support.

His thing burns the life out of me, burning the core further, suffocating me with how his thing feels like, throbbing ang growing bigger from the fact that he’s the first man to use me like this.

I breathe his name helplessly, “Levi. Levi.”

He’s not making a move yet. He’s watching my every reaction and how my face contorted due to the pain he caused me.

“Are you expecting something after this?” his thing throbbed, growing even bigger. What a cruel way of knocking down my airway.

My lips parted, gasping for air. Pain from the bottom flesh increasing rapidly all over my veins, “N–No... don’t worry.” I give my most genuine smile and swallow my cries and sobs.

“I–I know my place, Levi.” I added before he gone merciless with his deep thrust and cruel kisses.

“Levi, ooohhh!” tightly, hold on to the sheet tightly. There’s no one to cheer me all throughout this session so I did what I needed to do. I comfort myself on my own, grabbing for support onto the sheet as he strikes harder and fast with those thick hips and thighs, spreading my legs with his expert hands.

“Shit, baby! So tight here hah! Damn!” hard blow followed by another blow, forcing my core to accommodate his growing size by folding my legs and spreading them when he’s not comfortable.

I need something to hold on but who and what to hold.

“Lev—” his lips crashes back again on mine, kissing me torridly, fucking my tongue with his tongue, swirling, tasting my mouth full of his spittle.

My heart swells in affection, my tummy from his long and thick manhood. He says, surprisingly, “hold tight, baby.” When I didn’t move because I couldn’t comprehend his words, Levi grabs my right hand and put around his toned arms while lacing his other with my left as he picks up his face and strength. Drilling his rod deeper and fast as he buries his face on my neck, sucking its crooked part, licking his way up to my mouth to kiss me again.

“Aaahhh~ oh my God! You’re so deep! Aahh!” I couldn’t contain my moans anymore. It’s getting louder and he’s not bothering himself with it. He keeps ramming his hips against mine, creaming the already drenched hole.

Another heat is building up in me, making me hold tighter on his body and hand. I started squirming when he put a finger on my clit, rubbing it hard as he pumps hard his long shaft, “shit, baby! Aahhnngg cumming! Aah!”

My body convulses with his shaking ones, pumping even harder, filling me with warm cream until it oozes down my core down to the anus.

“Levi... ” his name rolls out my tongue before I dropped flat weakly on the bed, him on top of me, pressing more of his weight ‘til he completely dry his member out of his jizz.

He moves again. Blowing off another strikes but I’m too weak and too tired to cooperate with him. I just let him use me again and again.

He’s the love of my life after all.

•••

I woke up alone on my bed, feeling numb from the last night activity. He wasn’t here. He must be out and working already. My stomach growls, hunger occupying my senses. I force myself out from the bed, heading to the bathroom to clean myself. His marks are all over my body. The most visible were the one around my neck and my left wrist. He’s gone hard and wild last night, holding me by the neck to kiss me while fucking me from behind. Ah, Levi, what a poison you were.

I dress in my usual boyish clothes, leaving the house with my sore body and numb legs.

The day was peaceful and I’m having my breakfast at a café when this man storms in and snatches my aching body.

“Ouch.” I hiss lowly, not wanting to draw attention on us.

He sits me back on my chair, setting down really close to me, pressing our forehead together.

“You’re not allowed to leave me, Y/N! Fuck. I was so scared!” he’s breathing heavily and angrily.

I sip my coffee before answering, “I can’t even if I want to, Levi. Not in this condition. I can’t even feel my legs.”

I giggle at my own helplessness but he’s still mad, “I have been calling you! Where’s your goddamn phone?!”

“Oh! I think I left it in our house.” I answer innocently, grabbing a waffle from the white china, “hey! that’s mine!” my lips pouted when he stole my food and bit it angrily.

“I love you!” I think I misheard him.

“Huh?” I questioned.

“What an idiot and slowpoke.” Levi commented before gripping my chin and pressing his lips hard on my mouth.

•e n d•

[beaubokuto]

━ iv. what you broke

pairing: tobio kageyama x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au, angst

summary: prince tobio kageyama is cruel. he was known to be vindictive, revengeful, other synonyms for anger’s embodiment. you were not quite as interesting: a simple village girl with a knack for stealing things and a wish to kill the prince.

a/n: i love writing this fic so much

tags: angst, royalty, swearing, medieval, fantasy, enemies to lovers, all characters are aged up, minor depictions of violence (dueling, training, a little bit of blood)

glossary

previous chapter  ━ next chapter

You did not change before following the guard out of the room. You just followed quickly behind the burly man in your cloak and dirty clothes. If the prince wanted to request your presence, you would come as is. 

The sun had completely gone down in your time meeting your roommates, though the darkness did not do much in the already dark corridors. As you followed, it became instantly brighter as you entered the main wing of the castle.

The castle itself was dark. It was created by the Dark King long before your time, and he was as his name threatens. He took over this land and forced others to build him a castle of the darkest brick. From then, his lineage contained the same demeanor. Dark, mysterious, all together authoritative and intimidating. 

You were annoyed at the thought.

The doors to the throne room were massive, arching three sizes above your head. The ceiling became taller, the room lighter against the dark brick and wood, and the Kageyama crest stared directly at you as the guard opened the door.

Tobio Kageyama was sitting in his throne when you entered. His throne sat just slightly shorter on the right hand of the king’s, made of silver instead of Black Gold (the richest form; the throne must be very uncomfortable to sit in). Soon that would be his seat.

The King and Queen were no where in sight. This was a personal request.

He sat straight up, hands resting on the arms in attention. You would expect a crowned prince to be more relaxed. Perhaps a leg over the arm or something interesting.

“Prince Tobio.” You greeted. It was formal to greet the royalty first; however, calling him Tobio was the opposite.

“Already you mock me.” He tilted his head. The crown stayed perfectly in place. “Guard, you may leave. She is fine, there is no need for a chaperone.”

The guard simply nodded and left the room, closing the large door behind him.

“I must inform you that Shoyo was not given my permission when granting you this.” He told you instantly. His blue eyes were the same color as the crest on the clasp that held his cloak around his shoulders.

“Are you telling me to leave?”

“No.”

“Then why tell me that?”

“Because,” He returned to sit straight up. “After he did, I heard that you were excellent with a sword. I happen to be trained in the sword as well. I hope to find our inevitable duel interesting.” A pause. “However, this is not why I asked you in here today.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting with you privately?” You asked, sarcasm dripping off of your tongue like honey.

You watched as his shoulders relaxed with a roll of his eyes. “You are going to be a difficult one, aren’t you? I asked you in here to tell you some of the rules before you go into training tomorrow. Every one else here has had their introductions; they’ve all been training for quite a bit now.” Another pause. “I am being generous.”

“Informing me of the basic rules and regulations for my training... ah yes, thank you for doing the bare minimum.” You scoffed. “Tell me, Tobio, how long have you been this generous?”

In one motion, he was standing. His movements were so fluid and complete that you hadn’t even registered that he was walking; it was as if he floated to you. 

Standing in front of you, you could see his anger at your disrespect. 

“With every word that you have directed towards me, you have done nothing but disrespect me, my position, and my virtue. Continue to do so, and you will be removed.” Tobio said, voice low and against your ear. “If you wish to stay, I suggest minding how you speak to me.”

He leaned back. You caught your breath that you hadn’t realized that you were holding. 

Calling to the guard, “Guard! We are done here!”

“Wait, you never gave me the rules.” You blinked at his back.

“My apologies.” Tobio walked back to his throne. Sitting, he continued, “My guess is that you will figure it out. It being the bare minimum, after all.”

"We have a newcomer today, so we will be doing some introductions.” The trainer spoke. His voice was monotone and casted silence among anyone listening. He stood taller than everyone else in the room, including the other trainers, even though you were sure he was your age. “My name is Kei Tsukishima.”

The Knight Training room was a large room in the dungeons below the dorms. It was stained in blood and cleaned spills that left dark patches in the black brick. In the center of the room, there was a large circle painted in light grey surrounded by two smaller circles. The walls were lines in varying weaponry and training courses, along with fake bags shaped like people and targets.

“Welcome to Knight Training.” Another trainer added. He was a tad bit older, with dark hair and had a quiver strapped to his back. His voice seemed deeper, too. “I am Tetsurou Kuroo, I specialize in archery and survival techniques.”

“I’m Koutaro Bokuto!” The buff one added. He stood with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. He had a scar that crossed from his nose, through the left side of his lip, and curved back to his left cheek; it made his smile lopsided. “I specialize in knife throwing and hand to hand combat. Yamamoto, remind me to finish your D-4 later.”

Akari nodded to him from beside you, not caring for his lack of formalities.

“And I am Keiji Akaashi.” The last spoke. He was the shortest, yet stood tall. He also seemed incredibly bored by the introductions, as were you. “I specialize in the spear and hunting, including stealth and gathering.”

“I specialize in the sword.” Kei Tsukishima added. He turned to you, eyeglasses hiding his eyes. “So, newbie, you will be with me.”

As it turns out, the knights were rather informal people. They seemed to be formal with royalty and in public, but they talked casually the entire time you were in the training area.

You were sure Koutaro Bokuto swearing would be the most entertainment you have ever had.

“I was told that you are excellent with a sword.” Tsukishima said once it was just you two. You had followed him directly to the area furthest to the left, where you found an array of swords and targets. 

“This is the second time in two days that has been told to me. Who is spreading this rumor?”

He shrugged. “Just people. I want you to show me what you can do.”

“Show you what I can do?”

“Yes.” Tsukishima nodded his head to the box of swords. “Pick a sword and show me on the dummies what you would do if they were enemies.”

He gave you no other instructions. You were used to your own sword, the one that sat on your hip. So you reached for it. He didn’t seem to mind.

Unsheathing your sword, you stood in the circle of fake people. They were rather realistic looking, despite no true facial features.

Quickly and effortlessly, you brought your sword down on the dummies. In only a swift movement, you had taken off one head and another’s arm. You finished with a stab to the last’s throat.

“I see Shoyo was telling the truth.” Was all Tsukishima said. “Although, next time you must inform us of carrying your own weapon. Follow me.”

The rest of training consisted of you traveling between the trainers. But they maintained your closeness to Tsukishima.

Yua Ito and Akari Yamamoto met you back in the quarters. You were all complete in sweat, wear, and tire. You were sure your face had dirt and grime on it, as well as your messy hair.

“You didn’t tell us that you were that good with a sword!” Yua exclaimed as she changed, not caring for the presence of others. “You don’t even need training!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Akari sighed. “You are good, I admit. But you still need training.”

“That’s why I am here, is it not?” You offered.

Yua giggled at your sarcasm, and Akari raised a brow. Most of the trainers and others at training were informal and spoke in sarcastic tones. They couldn’t have been that surprised.

“I like you.” Akari said, collecting a pile of clothes to go bathe.

Dinner for the knights was quite eventful.

Beside the training center, there was another large room in similar dark brick and grey accents. This room had small windows near the ceiling, large tables lining the middle, and buffet style tables on the outer edges nearest the walls. It was the most food you had ever witnessed.

Meats, potatoes both fried and mashed, fruits and vegetables, fish and other harbor foods, breads that were warmed, frozen desserts and chocolate... you had no idea where to start.

“First meal here?” Tsukishima appeared behind you. Without his knight gear on, he was just as tall and brooding.

“It is that obvious?” You looked over your shoulder instead of turning around. He walked closer. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“I always start at the right side, near the breads. It leaves the necessities first and the desserts and sweets last.”

“Are you always this kind to new knights?”

“You are greatly mistaken.” Tsukishima shrugged. “I am not kind, nor are you a knight. Not yet, at least.”

The following days consisted of non stop practicing. The schedule was easy to follow: train at sunrise, have lunch, continue, and then dinner. Lights out when the sun sets. Repeat.

However, several days in, you started to notice a new presence.

Tobio Kageyama would watch from the outer stands that lined the walls. He would sit, guard at his side, and analyze the training. Without a single word.

One day, you felt his gaze on your back as you attempted knife throwing. It wasn’t too difficult for you, but it was far different than your usual heavy and long sword.

One of your knives hit the target directly where you had aimed, it’s head, and Bokuto cheered happily. He exclaimed, “you are going to be excellent at your first duel!”

You shrugged off his praise. And the prince’s stare.

“For today, we will only be practicing for the first duel of the season.” Tsukishima stood in the center of the circle, arms crossed and voice echoing. “We will go by how long you have been in training.” His eyes turned to you. “Which means you, newcomer, are last and will be fighting against whoever wins.”

“The rules are simple.” Kuroo stepped up. His voice seemed deeper. “You will fight with your weapon of choice. You can win by three ways. One, you manage to get your opponent out of the circle. Two, you have them on the ground for three seconds or more. Or three, they simply cannot continue.”

Akaashi spoke, “There will be no killing, nor major injury. We will step in and announce the winner before then. Other than that, expect to bleed and fight with all you have. This is training to be a knight on the king’s court, not practice for games.”

“That being said,” Tsukishima looked at some parchment in his hand. “The first duo will be Akari Yamamoto and Ren Sato.”

You stood beside Yua as they battled in the circle. Akari was amazing at knife throwing, you’ve witnessed it throughout the past several days. Ren was an older man, older than anyone in the room; but he must’ve been here a long time and have had the money to return through the years. 

“I had no idea Akari has been here that long.” You muttered to Yua. “To be the first duel, I mean.”

“She’s been here for years.” Yua didn’t take her eyes off of the pair fighting. “Don’t say anything, but I am not sure she wants to be a knight. Her father is one, so he got her into the training program. But each year, she never makes it to the final duel.”

You turned to Akari, who threw the knives directly where she knew to. She was strong, tall, and had all of the qualities of making a perfect knight. You wondered why she was delaying her career.

The winner of the series of duels was a man named Kaito Hashimoto. He was around double your size, both in height and build. His weapon was a spear, which was perfect for you because you planned on being very close to him. A distance weapon like a spear had no victory over a close ranged weapon like your sword.

You informed the trainers of your personal sword, and they agreed to allow you to use it during the duel. “Although, in the final duel against the king, you must only use the weapons provided.” Kuroo told you. 

The duel was a blur in your vision. Like most days when you spent a majority of your time sparring Kiyoko, you placed the entire world out of view and only focused on the enemy in front of you.

Kaito Hashimoto had laughed when you entered the circle. As if he had already won.

You remembered small pieces of what happened. You remember witnessing Tobio Kageyama’s entrance into the training area, finding his place in the stands. You remember opting for offense immediately, knowing that he would be surprised at your lack of defense. You remember using all of your strength and weight behind every attack. 

You laughed when you had him knocked down for five seconds. Because you had won.

"Congratulations.” Tsukishima announced. “For this duel, our top ten will continue. Although you will get a small advantage, being our overall winner.” 

“We can discuss that advantage later.” Bokuto said. “For now, I do believe that our crowned prince has something he would like to say.”

Everyone stood in a hushed silence, attention fully on the man in black and blue.

“I do have an announcement.” Tobio Kageyama said from the center of the training ground. All of you surrounded him, standing on the outer edge of the circle, clinging to his words.

You crossed your arms over your chest. You were still sweaty, heavy breaths rolling out of your mouth in huffs.

“In two days time, I will be crowned King.” He said. The silence was deafening. “And with that, many kings and rulers from other kingdoms will be arriving to bare witness to the event. After, we have a week of balls and festivals. 

“I wanted to give my thanks to all of you for your effort and training. You will have the entire week off. I invite you to all of the events that will take place at the castle. This includes the crowning.”

You felt your jaw drop. You looked over to Yua and Akari, who both shared the same expression. You would be at balls, at fairs and festivals, with the royalty of the nations.

You’ve heard stories from Kiyoko of balls, of extravagant parties and drunken nights. You’ve heard stories of the other princes and kings that rule the kingdoms that are on the other side of the outlying woods. You’ve only ever heard stories.

And none of them excited you.

They were always something to brag about. They were always something that made other’s seem better, seem richer. If you heard someone in the town streets talking of going to such events, you would turn away and steal something from their bag as punishment for making you feel inferior.

Being able to attend yourself sounded like the perfect time to practice.

You felt someone’s eyes, and you looked up to find Tobio Kageyama staring directly at you.

masterlist

tag list: @immxnty @elegantlykpop @thechaosoflonging @starryparkrr @cosmotoic @tooruluv​ 

[emilyplaysotome]

Queen's Choice - Part 5

This is the fifth chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys.

Catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

He’s up before I am, but I’m not surprised. I wake to the smell of coffee and breakfast, and my stomach lets out a growl. I usually do without or pick something up on the way to the office, but I can’t pass up his cooking.

I’m surprised at how sore I am from the previous night’s activities and my cheeks burn as I think about everything that transpired.

I think about what it felt like to be under him and on top of him and how despite what we did I still want more.

I wonder when I got so greedy and I also realize I only have a week of having my cake and eating it too before I have to start making hard decisions, so I do my best to push down the unpleasant thoughts and focus on the man in my kitchen.

As I’m getting ready, my phone lights up with a notification from Kiro.

“It's just that I'm...back in town! You doing anything tonight?”

I can still smell Victor on me and it feels almost wrong to reply, but I do.

“Nada! Want to hang?”

“Something like that 😈 - I have a concert tonight and got you a VIP pass. I want you in the front row”

“…And I have a surprise for you before.”

“Oooh! A surprise. Like candy?” I type back with a grin.

“Something a bit spicier…”

With that he sends me the address with a time and I open the door to see Victor enjoying coffee and a plate of eggs with toast waiting for me.

“Good morning sleeping dummy. I thought I’d be off on my work trip before you even woke up. So glad you could join me.”

He’s laying it on thick, but we kiss good morning as if we’ve been together for years. It’s just a peck on the lips but it makes this all feel very domestic and I take my seat next to him before digging in.

The food is amazing, which isn’t a surprise.

Victor smiles as he watches me eat with gusto and even though we’ve done this kind of thing before, having followed what we did last night it feels more intimate. There’s a moment where I look at him and smile and realize that the pendulum to my clock has stopped moving and I realize that he’s frozen us in this moment.

“I need to leave,” he explains, gently wiping some crumbs from my mouth. “But I don’t want to quite yet.”

It’s romantic and sweeter than I’m used to him being.

I feel myself swooning a bit and I take a gulp of the juice next the coffee he’s made and kiss him. A real kiss where I hope I taste like OJ and everything sweet instead of the savory breakfast he’s made for me. I can feel it starting to escalate but he gently pushes me away and says, “I need to go.”

“When do I get to see you again?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“I’ll be away on business. I’ll write when I’m back.”

I nod but am reminded of how important Victor is.

How unavailable he is at times.

He must see this and he kisses me gently again and says, ”I trust you’ll keep yourself occupied so you won’t miss me too much, yes?”

I nod, guiltily thinking about the fact I’ve already made myself plans with another man and that after signing the contract I thought about how I could see the others before time ran out for one of them. I don’t know if he sees through me, but he kisses my forehead and tells me to be a good girl while he’s away before putting on his jacket.

When he’s at the door he looks at me with a naughty smirk and says, “When I’m back we can live out your fantasy in my office. Until then I look forward to hearing what you dream up next in your bed about me.”

I feel myself go bright red and yell, “Have a good trip!” and hear the sound of his low laughter and the click of the door before I’m left alone with my breakfast and thoughts.

I think about how easy it’s been to float between four men and how they all come and go in a way that makes me question if any of them could be present in the way I want.

In the way my perfect one would be.

—

I forget about my worries and get lost in work, planning our next episode of Miracle Finder with Anna. We budget and make phone calls and laugh about challenging production experiences and before I know it the day is gone and it’s time to hit the gym.

I change into my clothes and I catch a small mark on my breast. I question who it’s from and why I don’t feel more satiated.

I had thought that by being with each of them, I would have some clarity but if anything I feel it has muddied things. I wonder if I need to try again. Or until Victor’s contract forces my hand.

It’s then that I shower him off of me and I feel a pang of melancholy.

I’m surprised by the fact that I liked having him on me but I’m about to meet Kiro and that feels like a personal line I don’t want to cross.

—

The security at the venue is insane and I question if I’ll be able to make it back to the green room where Kiro instructed me to meet him. It’s only by chance that I run into Savin by the entrance and he escorts me through the labyrinth-like backstage, dropping me at the door before running off to take care of something else.

I knock and hear a cheerful voice inviting me in. I open it and enter, seeing Kiro in all his pop star glory, styled to the max but reclining on the couch, Nintendo switch in hand.

“Miss Chips you made it!”

“I did.”

He throws the switch aside and jumps up to greet me, giving me a deep kiss before evaluating my appearance.

“So cute. I don’t know how I’m going to stay focused on the concert with you up front looking like this…not to mention what I’ve planned for us.”

“For us?”

I can’t help but giggle as he gives me a little twirl before running off to get the surprise he’d mentioned but that I’d already forgotten about. It’s a box that gives few clues about its contents, and I open it and discover what looks like a sexy underwear set.

“Put it on.”

“Now? But…”

“Now. It’s locked, no one will come in.”

There’s an impish look I haven’t seen before and I obey, surprised that he runs over and turns his attention to his laptop instead of on my naked form. I can feel that there’s something…in this underwear, pressed up against my most sensitive spot and I don’t quite understand until I’m in it and he’s looking at me with a smile.

“I made this just for you,” he says with a smile.

“Made it?”

“Programmed it for your pleasure tonight…”

He starts to sing a soft melody that I recognize as his song “Key to your Heart” and the moment his voice hits the word “Key” I feel a vibration that’s subtle enough to go unnoticed by someone next to me but present enough to trigger a moan out of me.

His eyes are glued to me and he gets up and reaches out to gently touch my face before running his hand down lower to play with my breast the way he did when we were in the shower.

“Clever isn’t it?”

I realize that the word “Key” activates the mechanism, and knowing that I alone know his secret alter ego, I desperately try to regain my composure and say, “It’s a nice touch. How do I stop it?”

“I love you Kiro.”

“What?”

“Say it.”

I pause and he smirks and sings, “The KEY to your love…” and the intensity of the vibration increases.

I moan, “I love you Kiro” louder than I expect and the vibration stops.

He laughs and kisses me.

“Anyone else will think you’re just a fan, but I’ll know what’s happening.”

“I didn’t realize you played dirty.”

“I play to win…always.”

I can tell he’s serious and his gaze has an intensity it usually lacks. He doesn’t feel like the jovial, playful boy that I spent the past couple years with. He suddenly feels more mature and I find myself wanting his touch before the concert, but Savin’s knock interrupts us.

“Be right there!” He yells back, switching into his sweetheart persona.

“5 minutes,” Savin says from behind the closed door.

“Got it. I’ll see you backstage.”

Savin grunts in reply and it feels like my heart is the only one that’s racing.

“We’ll finish what we’ve started after the concert,” Kiro says, slipping a VIP lanyard around my neck. “See you here after the encore.”

He doesn’t touch me, even though I’m riled up and I have no choice but to find my place in the crowd for his concert. When it starts I realize he’s only a few feet above me and while he does his typical amazing performance, I can feel him watching me through most of it.

He insists on saying the secret phrase more than usual, and I do my best to keep my composure in the crowd, too embarrassed to shout “I love you Kiro” as often as he says “Key”. The girls around me all squeal when he looks our way, which is often, and I struggle not to let his toy get the better of me.

I can tell he’s getting riled up too, watching me from the stage, because his eyes turn gold and he lets everyone know that the encore is coming early tonight. None of them care, especially not me, and within 20 minutes of the last song I’m back in the green room being bent over a couch that has seen years of this kind of behavior.

My clothes are still on but the underwear he gifted me is down around my ankles and he makes lewd comments as to how his toy has made it easy to have me. I’m almost embarrassed by my own wetness but he continues to moan filthy commentary as he fucks me which is far filthier than I ever expected him capable.

I realize that neither one of us were as sweet as we pretended to be with the other.

He flips me over and lifts me in a princess carry for a moment before laying me down on the couch. He spreads my legs in a way where I'm half laying, half sitting, exposed on the very edge to him and he enters me again. He nips at my neck, and lightly pinches my breast, toying with me, teasing me like he did all night and once again there’s a knock from Savin.

“Kiro - you’ve got a meet and greet in 15.”

He smirks but doesn’t stop.

“But I’ve got 15?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all the time I need. Thanks Savin.”

I cover my mouth as to not alert his manager to what’s actually happening behind the door as he ups the intensity of his movement. He has full control over me and my pleasure and much to my excitement (as well as my disappointment), Kiro keeps his promise to Savin.

—

We say goodbye a few minutes before the meet and greet, drenched in our own sweat and fluids but riding some endorphin high from the night.

He doesn’t mince his words this time.

“You know I’m in love with you right?”

“I…”

“And you know I play to win, right?”

I nod.

“Then I’ll be seeing you soon."

I watch him pause at the door before he looks back and adds, "Sooner than anyone else if I have to.”

“But what about your world tour?”

Savin knocks from beyond the door, but doesn’t want to leave this time.

“Kiro come on. Chop chop. I promised my wife I’d be home to put the kids to bed tonight, let’s go.”

I don’t know why, but I hide when he exits so it seems as if Kiro was in the green room alone before I compose myself to head home. I pass girls wearing t-shirts with Kiro’s face plastered all over them and I think about what we just did.

I think about how he’s off to meet fans, covered in me just as I am covered in him.

I think about what he said and how they all basically said it.

How I keep being asked to choose.

I still don’t want to choose.

It feels like a helpless situation, being pulled in all directions. I approach an intersection and looking at the traffic light, a lightbulb goes off in my head. I stop where I am on the sidewalk to send the exact same text to all four of them.

“Can I see you on Saturday?”

I have no idea what it is that they'll say, but on the small chance that this goes the way I think it might, I might have found a catch. I smile to myself, no longer feeling as conflicted and walk to pick up some dessert to enjoy when I'm home.

Cake perhaps.

It seems fitting for an occasion where having cake and eating it too applies to more than just sweet nothings...

--

Part 6

I hope you liked the fifth chapter of my steamy fic. If you liked this, please comment, share, and like! I love seeing that :)

As always, if you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend, liking it, or buying me a coffee!

Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged and I’ll take you off.

tagging:

@hifftn

@ho-lee-snow-balls

@redheadkitty11

@superllamaathleteshoe

@mamafishfound

@clilee

@uniunikilla

@x-klamstrakur

@itsannaslife13

@exosexosekai

@galaxystarrr

@minvirsa

@xxnxcxlx

@thirsty-for-mlqc-bois

@the-rlyn

@crystalrainwish

@kazuyaasai-serenaspencerli

@nad-zeta

@crystalcrystalcrystal

@britishatheartamerican

@goldenrosefae

@caitvoyancy

[raviotherabbit]

royal pain in the ass - chapter 1

Chapter 1: Era of the Wilds Queen Zelda rebuilds her palace.

[first] - [next] read it on ao3!

  △ ▲△

Three months ago, Link started this time travelling journey. Before he left through that portal, with eight heroes waiting behind him expectantly, he held onto Zelda’s hand and promised he’d tell her everything.

They were a good bunch, by Zelda’s judgement. She was relieved knowing that the Hero of Twilight was looking out for her former knight. And the Hero of Time and Hero of Warriors seemed to have good heads on their shoulders, so she certainly shouldn’t be worried there. And Link was even friendly with the others, like the Hero of Hyrule and the Hero of Winds! She was glad there were at least some people there to indulge him, once in a while.

One of their visits landed on a beautiful day, right on the edge of summer. As a bit of a treat, Zelda let the Hero of the Four Sword and Hero of Legend loose on what remains of her library. She idly watched as her Link—Wild, the others called him—disappeared into Castle Town with Wind in tow, both of them giggling.

“We should probably follow them,” Twilight grimaced.

Zelda startled, caught off guard by Twilight’s suggestion. They were sitting against the wall below the castle’s observation room, comparing and contrasting their respective monarchies when he’d abruptly changed the topic.

“What for?” she questioned. “There’s not much trouble for them to get into. Let them have their fun.”

He sighed. “Wild’s idea of fun usually involves explosives.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. He can be very responsible.”

“You were there when he launched himself halfway across Hyrule, right?”

Zelda paused for a moment, glancing back to the palace gates Wild had disappeared past. Their last visit, he had wanted to show off to Hyrule just how far he could launch himself with his bombs, and, somehow, he’d made it all the way to Hateno.

“Perhaps I’m a bit lenient with him,” she relented. “I suppose I just like seeing him happy.”

Twilight said nothing, but he arched an eyebrow at her. Something about his scrutiny made her heart drop, and for a split second, she wondered how much he knew about her and Wild’s shared past. What happened to him, how she couldn't save him before-

“I mean, he deserves as much, doesn’t he?” she hastily explained. “He’s got a second chance, now.”

  △ ▲△

Queen Zelda Sarya Hyrule awakens for the day, leaning her hands on the balcony as she looks over her kingdom’s sunrise. It’s a bright, fresh morning, the smell of last night’s rain still in the air. This morning marks three months, officially, since Link's last visit.

Zelda sighs. She supposes she ought to be used to this. She’s got a hundred years’ worth of experience waiting for Link, she can survive however long it takes him to finish this mission. She could spend her time worrying over her friend’s safety, but really, eight other heroes from eras past? He couldn’t be in safer hands.

It’s only a shame they had to halt their weapons training, for the time being. Zelda’s getting tired of sparring with dummies.

She steps away from the balcony, stretching her arms out. She’s been using the observation room as her temporary quarters. And it’s not that she wouldn’t rather stay in her old room, if it weren’t for the broken bridge and collapsed roof, it’s just…

Well, Link always referred to his life as a new beginning. Maybe this can be one for her, too.

First thing to do, get dressed. Yesterday was laundry day, so her clothes are nice and clean.

Second, get some breakfast. What she wouldn’t do for some coffee-

Splash!!

“Oh shit!”

“No! The pallets!”

Upon further analysis, it appears Zelda won’t have any time to get dressed before her day begins.

She shows up to the moat wearing an old, plain shirt and shorts, her pajamas since she’s woken up. Her hair is messy and tangled, and she’s still having trouble keeping her eyes open. But when Bolson and Karson notice Zelda, the latter bows to her as though she were the picture of beauty.

She has to resist rolling her eyes. What would her father think of this?

“What’s the issue?” she asks them as Karson rises. “I heard something about palettes?”

“Ah, well-” Karson stammers. “You see, your majesty-”

“Our horses,” Bolson explains, mercifully cutting Karson off. “They were carting pallets of material for our work today, when something spooked ‘em. Knocked the pallets into the water, ‘n Karson and me were trying to figure out how to fish ‘em up.”

Zelda raises an eyebrow, glancing at each side of the bridge. Aside from the rushing water and the slight breeze, all is still.

“What could have possibly scared your horses? There’s nothing up here, and-” She peeks down at the river. “The Zora aren’t supposed to arrive for a few more hours.”

Karson speaks. “I’m sorry, your majesty, I don’t know-”

She holds up a hand. “I’m not blaming you, Karson. I’m simply confused.” She sighs. “Don’t worry about your supplies. Do whatever else you can for now. When Prince Sidon and his guard report to the palace, I’m sure I can convince some of them to scavenge your belongings.”

“Thank you, Queen Zelda,” Bolson responds before Karson can make a fool of himself again. “Hudson went after the horses. Karson, we should see if he needs any help.”

Zelda watches as the two of them leave. Link had personally attested to the quality of work Bolson Construction could do, and truth be told, she’d hired them on his recommendation alone —though the fact that one of their members had built an entire town by hand had been particularly alluring. Her father would have thrown a fit at Bolson’s “manners”, or lack thereof, but that very trait was the reason she enjoyed working with him so much. He understood that she was in the same boat as the rest of them.

But that story about the horses had her worried. On such a calm morning, when most of the kingdom had yet to stir, she couldn’t help but fear that whatever had spooked them so bad had been malicious.

She looks back over the bridge, trying to peer down into the dark water. It wasn’t so long ago that the castle had been teeming with monsters, after all. Sure, they aren’t quiet, but is it possible some of them were missed?

Well, whatever it is, it could at least wait until she’s dressed.

  △ ▲△

“I’m worried about excavating the Great Hall.”

Zelda is enjoying her breakfast (buttered bread, Hylia, how she misses Link’s cooking), when Yunobo approaches her. He, along with several other young Gorons, volunteered to help clear the debris from Hyrule Castle and its adjoining town.

At first, Zelda had been a bit concerned about having not only Vah Rudania’s new pilot, but Daruk’s direct descendant working so closely with her. Daruk had been a dear friend of hers, after all, and she wasn’t sure she could bear having a reminder of him walking around her home.

But right away it had become apparent that Yunobo is nothing like his grandfather. He’s innocent where Daruk had been optimistic, hesitant where Daruk had been a leader. It was easy enough for Zelda to pretend that there was no relation at all.

Wordlessly, she motions for Yunobo to sit beside her, which he does.

“Link got your slate to you, correct?” she asks, pulling out her own.

Zelda had been quite shocked when Purah had presented her with a brand new slate, a replacement for the one she’d given to Link. Apparently one hundred years of research and a now-peaceful world meant technological advancements could happen fast. And with the correct payment, she was willing to make a few more for the rest of the new Champions.

Yunobo nods, shyly taking his slate out. His is much larger than the ones provided to the rest of the Champions, on account of his larger hands.

“Perfect.” Zelda pulls up a file, a diagram of the castle’s interior, and taps their slates together. “Did that transfer work? You should have a copy of the castle’s blueprints now.”

“Oh wow!” Yunobo holds his slate to his face, marvelling at his screen. “This is amazing, your majesty!”

Zelda can’t help but smile along with him. “I thought the same thing when I first started playing with the first one,” she admits. “You can use this to show me what’s troubling you.”

“Right.” He points to the main entryway to the Great Hall. “See, we’re focusing on this part here, because it’s easier for us Gorons to move around. But I’ve been noticing a lot of rocks in the rubble from further up the castle.” He sighs. “It’s unstable. If we keep going as we are now there’s going to be a hole in the rock right up to the Sanctum.”

Zelda frowns, eyes fixed on the blueprints. So far, they haven’t had any issues like this. Most of the ruins have been from the stone lining the hallways, not the mountain itself. And, despite being a researcher, she’s not exactly an engineer. Can something like this even be fixed?

“Well, first of all, we’re stopping construction on that area immediately,” she instructs. “Make sure the rest of the Gorons know that. Then, go to Bolson with your concerns. His work has been temporarily delayed, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you figure out this problem.” She tucks her slate at her side. “Does that work for you?”

“Thank you!” Yunobo beams, and isn’t that a sight? Link told her he used to be very anxious a while ago. “I’ll get on that right away, your majesty.”

What she wants to say is ‘No need for that. Call me Zelda.’ But something about it gets caught in her throat.

“If there are any other issues, let me know,” Queen Zelda says.

  △ ▲△

There have been talks, lately, of turning Castle Town into a trading hub for the rest of Hyrule, and Zelda thought it was a wonderful idea. It was, after all, how the capital had been established many years ago, and returning to its roots would be a good way to build it back up again. She’s already gotten the word from several villages that they’d be willing to send merchants. The only thing left to do is to strike up a deal with the Gerudo.

Lady Riju is wise beyond her years, and Zelda can’t help but see herself in the girl. Forced into a role of importance at such a young age, carrying the burdens of loss and leadership on her shoulders…

“Using Castle Town as an in-between for your trades with the Gorons would make for shorter journeys in the long run.” Zelda and Riju are seated at a table in the dining hall, which the Queen has converted into an office of sorts. Both are flanked by several guards, yet their attention is focused on the slates in their hands, displaying a map of the kingdom.

“We would get our gemstones faster,” Riju reasons.

“Exactly,” Zelda says. “Not to mention, this would also open up opportunities for you with Zora’s Domain. I’m not sure whether you would appreciate their fish, but one of their other major exports is Luminous Stones.”

Hearing this, Riju raises her eyebrows. “Now that is interesting.”

The Gerudo are lucky to have Riju, Zelda decides. She knows there’s only one jeweler in Gerudo Town—aside from a few hobbyists—and yet, the chieftain was clearly interested on her behalf. Now that the Calamity is gone, the Gerudo may as well expand their horizons a bit.

Urbosa would be proud.

Zelda immediately shakes that thought off like a dog out of the water. “Of course, you’ll have to work the details out with the Zora themselves, I’m just offering the venue. But Prince Sidon is supposed to come by later today.”

Riju hums to herself. “Buliara,” she says, turning to the guard by her side. “Make sure we get a meeting with him before either of us leave.”

“Yes, Lady Riju.”

With that assurance, Riju faces Zelda once again, standing. “Well, Queen Zelda, it looks like we have a deal, then.” She offers Zelda a hand.

“Thank you, Lady Riju.” Zelda takes her hand, and the two shake. And that’s where Zelda assumed it would end.

“Actually,” Riju clears her throat, and suddenly it isn’t Riju, Chieftain of the Gerudo standing in front of her. It’s Riju, the thirteen year-old child, eyes wide and pleading, awkwardly holding onto one of her arms. “I was wondering, if you’re not doing anything for a while…”

Zelda winces, and in that instant she sees Riju avert her gaze. “Oh, Riju,” she says. “I’d love to, but…”

Riju holds up her hand. “It’s no matter, your highness,” she claims, displaying strength as if Zelda didn’t just see her put a wall up. “I should discuss the changes to our trade routes with the Gorons, anyway.”

Some other time, Zelda promises herself. She’ll make time for Riju soon. But as Riju beckons her guards and leaves, she can’t find it within herself to say it out loud.

  △ ▲△

Zelda really thought she could do it this time.

Ever since she’d gone through the process of selecting new Champions, new pilots for the Divine Beasts, Zelda has spent quite a bit of time with them. Training, maintenance, everything to help them move along as smoothly as possible. And it’s been fine with all of them!

Well, with the exception of one.

Riju and Yunobo are both generations removed from their ancestors, and if Zelda doesn’t remind herself, she can almost pretend there’s no connection at all. And Teba isn’t even related to any of the former champions. But Sidon…

Zelda storms into the makeshift infirmary, a large tent just outside the castle, to find Sidon having a wound wrapped by a nurse. Noticing her arrival, the nurse offers a bow before sliding out of the tent past the Queen.

“Prince Sidon,” she fights to keep her tone diplomatic. “Please tell me Captain Bazz lied to me.”

Sidon is so Mipha.

“Queen Zelda-”

“Stop,” she commands, and some part of her mind recognizes it as one her father took often. “You-” She points a finger at him. “-the crown prince of the Zora, a race known for their weakness to electricity, decided to take on a Lynel, of all things. Is that correct?”

Somehow, in all her five-foot four-inches worth of glory, Zelda has successfully gotten Prince Sidon, a fish towering over ten feet, to cower under her glare.

“Yes, Queen Zelda.”

Of course, Mipha wouldn’t have been nearly as brash as her brother. She knew her limits, knew the risks of facing a Lynel head on, especially a Silver one. She knew she wasn’t the one to take on that task.

Sidon, for some reason, didn’t.

“Okay,” Zelda sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why?”

“Why?” Sidon echoes back at her. He finally meets her eyes, matching her own harsh gaze. “Your highness, that Lynel was too close to Helmhead Bridge! If I hadn’t stopped it, it could have gone on a rampage throughout Castle Town!”

But he had her passion, that’s for sure. Where Mipha had been drawn to healing the injured, Sidon found himself drawn to battle away every danger that could befall the innocent. In that sense, the two of them were the same.

Sidon, like his sister, is a protector.

“You were under orders to clear out the Military Training Grounds! That’s it!” Zelda counters. “That Lynel was not your responsibility!”

“Hyrule is my responsibility! You made it my responsibility when you gave me Vah Ruta!”

Sidon is Mipha in every way that Mipha wasn’t. And how dare he come to her castle, acting the brasher, braver Mipha?

How dare he, Mipha’s most precious brother, risk himself for her?

“I’ve already led one set of Champions to their deaths, Sidon!” Zelda shouts, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’m not going to let you die as well!”

Sidon reels back, looking at Zelda with wide eyes.

Zelda covers her mouth, and her spine goes rigid, like ice. She turns on her heel, making a beeline out of the tent.

“Your highness!” Sidon calls after her. “Zelda! Wait!”

But Zelda ignores him. She pushes the flap out of the way, and once she’s finally outside the tent, she runs.

  △ ▲△

Of course it’s her old room. Zelda hadn’t even realized it was her destination until she arrived there, eyes blurry with tears. She slams her door shut behind her and sinks to the floor, finally letting herself cry. Sobs rake through her body, and she’s reminded of the times a hundred years ago, when she would lock herself in this same room after yet another day of failing to unlock her powers.

It’s been a century since then, and she’s right back where she started.

The Champions, all of them, deserve this future much more than Zelda does. She failed them all.

She’s not sure how long she sits there, curled in on herself, crying like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Seriously, what’s wrong with her?

Suddenly, there’s the sound of wings flapping from the literal hole in the room, rattling Zelda out of her sorrow enough to look up.

It’s Teba, because of course it is. Who else would fly all the way up here? His expression is difficult to read, but he’s focused on her.

“There you are,” he says, landing on the ruins of her wall. He hops down. “You scared Sidon, back there.”

Zelda looks back to the floor, head turned away from Teba. Her face and chest burn with shame.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

There’s warmth next to her, Teba sitting by her side. “Now, why are you saying that?” He drapes one of his wings over her shoulders.

It’s disgustingly casual, certainly not the image a distinguished queen should be projecting. But Teba is concerned for her, and Zelda can’t remember the last time she let someone do that. Even Link, her closest friend, she’s kept at a distance. He’s been struggling so much, how was she supposed to burden him with her own issues?

“I keep ruining everything,” she admits, choking back a sob. “His sister is gone because of me. I let Hyrule fall.”

“Zelda-” and how great it is to hear her name. Not your majesty, your highness, the great and wonderful queen who could do no wrong. Just Zelda, the person. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

If only it were that easy.

“I should have,” she retorts. “How stupid were we to believe that pig would fall for the same trick twice?”

“You’re a kid.”

Zelda can’t help but laugh at that, though it isn’t particularly funny. Some of her loose hairs fly away from her face as she does so.

Teba, unamused, sighs. “What are you doing here?”

She rolls her eyes. “I came to my room to cry, obviously.”

“No, I mean-” Teba tries again. “Why are you at the castle?”

“To rebuild Hyrule,” Zelda answers automatically. “To lead my people.”

“Who told you to do that?”

Zelda blinks, and she realizes she doesn’t have an answer for that. Rarely does she ever find herself in this situation.

“Well, no one, but…” she struggles. “It’s what my father would want.”

Teba points at her. “There’s your issue,” he says. “You’re putting yourself in this box, trying to be the person you think everyone wants you to be. And in the process, you’re ignoring yourself.”

“Teba-”

“The reconstruction effort doesn’t necessarily need you, Zelda,” he tells her. “We’re glad to have you, but if you need to go off somewhere on your own, we’d get along just fine.”

Zelda scoffs. “Where would I even go?”

“I don’t know.” Teba shrugs. “Maybe you could check out what Link’s been up to?”

  △ ▲△

Teba’s suggestion rings in Zelda’s mind. She tries to sleep, truly, she does. But she ends up kicking her way out of her bedroll in frustration.

So, just as her day began, Zelda finds herself standing on her balcony, staring out at Hyrule. The night is cloudless, the vast sky full of twinkling stars. Hyrule Field is still, save for the breeze that passes through it. It catches her hair, long and golden, bringing it to sway.

Maybe she should cut it.

Hyrule is large. She’s heard from Link of his journey and saw much of it herself. Their initial tour had been half a year ago, when the Calamity had finally been defeated. Sadly, they’d been limited to the main settlements, focusing on making peace with their leaders and spreading the news that, yes, it was over. They hadn’t had much time to divert from the path, to see the little wonders Link spoke so fondly of.

Zelda knows Link would want to show her these wonders himself, but perhaps she could find some of her own to show him? Do something nice for him, for once.

If he ever comes back, that is.

Once upon a time, Zelda told the Hero of Twilight that she was happy for Link, happy for his second chance. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a second chance of her own.

Behind her, she hears it. The sound of reality tearing, ripping at its seams. It’s a sound she’s heard before, everytime Link and the other heroes dropped in unexpectedly. She turns around, and there it is, the oval portal glowing a soft, golden light.

She leans against her balcony and waits, patiently, for Link. It’s rude of them to show up so late, especially when she’s so underdressed, but she can make an exception for the heroes.

But nothing happens. Instead, Zelda feels a tug in her own chest, an instinctual pull that says ‘Hop in’. And she’s reminded of what Link told her about how the group finds their portals:

They’re drawn to them.

  △ ▲△

When Zelda doesn’t show her face the next morning, they go looking for her. They find the observation room scarce of most of Zelda’s belongings, her bedroll and clothes all missing. The queen herself is also gone, and in her place is a note.

Dear all,

I went to go see Link. Keep up the work without me. I will return sometime soon.

Your friend, Zelda

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Chapter Twelve

Lysandra’s POV

Lysandra was not giving up. There was no way Aelin was going to reveal her boyfriend before Lys caught them, that she would make certain of. Aelin was smart, very smart. But Lysandra was smarter.

Their office building was not a particularly large one. Not that it wasn’t still many, many people, but she would take all the help she could get.

The bar wouldn’t have fit everybody; they must have only invited certain departments or something; Lysandra couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered; Lys had the guest list.

The bar was rather sizable. It had been reserved for the night, and dozens of people had attended. Only half were men (thank the Gods Aelin wasn’t bi) and these men were then narrowed down.

Aedion had been crossed off the list of course, being Aelin’s brother. The twins and Rowan were with Lys when Aelin got her alibi checked, so there was no way it could be them. Snooping had found one employee on vacation during a time she knew Aelin was at the mystery man’s place.

Lysandra was methodical and believed in exhausting all possibilities, but she was getting desperate. She decided to eliminate the men in a known relationship. She doubted Aelin would carry on with a cheater, and she certainly wouldn’t bring him to a party as her date.

Elide was the receptionist; despite her sweet nature, she knew all the gossip. Lys had coerced her into coming over last night, the only person to show up to her gathering. They had used Elide’s pool of knowledge to eliminate Chaol, Aelin’s ex who was now dating someone named Yrene; Nox, dating some girl whose name they didn’t know; and Ress, newly engaged.

The list being significantly smaller than when it was first made, Lysandra then called all the remaining men and questined them while Elide tried to muffle her giggling in the background.

Laying in bed the next morning, Lysandra thought of those conversations.

“Hello Tern, it’s Lysandra from security. It’s been so long since we’ve talked, and I was just wondering what plans you have for the holidays.”

A dozen phone calls later, Lysandra was stumped. Why? Because every single one of them was going to their parents’.

Yes, they might have lied. But if that was the case, she couldn’t trust a single conversation. She had gone over every possibility with Elide and they had agreed: it was time for a stakeout.

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Elide asked, sitting next to Lysandra in the latter’s car in Aelin’s parking lot the night after yesterday’s meeting.

Lys rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. We agree we need to find out who it is. So close to the party - and to you leaving for your parents’ place with Lorcan - lists just aren’t going to cut it anymore. I honestly wish I’d done this sooner. And if you’re going to have doubts, walk home and I’ll do it myself.”

“No, no, I’ll stay.” When Lysandra grinned at Elide, El elaborated, “Just to keep matters in control if you insist on doing it even if I leave.”

“If you say so.” Lys knew Elide just had to find out almost as much as she did, and her paltry excuses weren’t cutting it.

“Um. What now? Do you even know?”

Lysandra giggled. “I work in security. Of course I know.”

“Does the security department usually involve themselves in stakeouts?”

“Well, no, but... It can’t be too hard to figure it out. We just sit. And watch. And wait.”

Elide frowned. “I have to pee.”

A sigh from Lysandra. “There’s a gas station down the street if it’s an emergency. Otherwise, suck it up.”

“If Aelin’s car isn’t here, why are we expecting her boyfriend to show up?”

“She might have a change of clothes or whatever, but even so, Aelin can’t stay there forever. She might come back, whether it’s to stay or pick something up or whatever. If the dude isn’t with her, we’ll follow her when she leaves again.”

“Do you do that in the security department too?” asked Elide with a smirk. Who knew sweet El was even capable of smirking?

“Shut up. Job or no, I am a pro. I watch true crime.”

Elide giggled. “You’re so weird.”

“What, it’s good. And let’s be honest, we’ve been waiting for ten minutes and we’re both bored out of our minds. Let’s try to figure out the situation.”

Before Elide could ask what she was talking about, Lys pulled out her phone and pressed Ansel’s contact. She put the phone on speaker so Elide could hear as it rung.

“Hi Lys. What’s up?”

“Hey Ansel. I’ve been watching reality TV for three hours and I need a good gossip. I’m assuming you won’t tell me about MM?”

“MM?”

“Mystery Man. My new moniker for him.”

“Oh. No, certainly not. I will say, though, that Fenrys just left and last night Aelin and MM came to watch a movie with us.”

Elide gasped and Lys elbowed her. “Is that so? How was it?”

Ansel laughed. “If was fine for the most part. They made out for, like, ten straight minutes though. Either they wanted to annoy me or they’re the horniest couple I’ve met. Or maybe both.”

Lysandra frowned. “I can’t believe I wasn’t there. You and Fen really watched a movie with them?” Before Ansel could reply, Lys continued. “She’s at his place now, I’m guessing?”

“Where else?” Ansel sounded exasperated. “I don’t see her on weekends. I might not even see her until after Christmas now. I’m not much better, though. I’ve spent the last few days with Fenrys.”

Trying to steer the conversation back on track, Lysandra said, “She’ll be there for a while, I’m guessing?”

“I have no clue. Actually, wait, I think she’s coming sometime tonight to get her laptop. She wants to get some work done and she forgot it.” Interesting. “I hope you’re not considering a stakeout,” Ansel teasingly said. “We were worrying about that last night. Oh, wait, I hope I didn’t just give you any ideas.”

Lysandra laughed. “I not desperate enough for a stakeout just yet. Gods, that would be so boring.” Elide covered her mouth, probably to avoid laughing.

The two good-naturedly chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up.

“So,” said Lys. “Aelin’s coming tonight. We are very lucky people.”

“Yes we are. Shit, I really have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Lysandra dug out some dollar bills and handed them to Elide. “Get some snacks while you’re at it. I’m starving. I feel so stupid for forgetting food. That’s the number one rule of having a stakeout.”

-

One hour later, Lysandra was just nearing the bottom of a Cheetos bag when a familiar car pulled into the parking lot.

“Duck,” Lys whispered to Elide.

Elide complied, and then asked, “Why are we whispering?”

“It’s cooler. Okay, I don’t see anyone else in the car. It’s hard to tell because it’s so dark, but yeah, just Aelin. So we wait until she drives off and then we follow.”

“I feel like this is illegal,” commented Elide.

“It might be.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

Lysandra smiled wickedly. “I haven’t felt so exhilarated in years. We need to do this more often.”

Elide giggled at this. “I feel like some sort of private detective.”

Just then, Aelin emerged from the staircase. Lysandra waited until she had driven a fair distance before pulling out after her. The dark was advantageous in that Aelin wouldn’t see them well.

They soon pulled up at a different parking lot. There was something about this place that Lysandra recognized, but in the dark it was impossible to tell.

“Is it just me, or is this place familiar?” Elide wondered.

“You’ve just voiced my own thoughts. Maybe we’ll realize what it is when it’s light.”

“Um, are we going to be here that long?”

“We can’t just follow her in.”

“Why not?”

Lysandra frowned. “I want to see that smirk wiped off her face when she thinks she’s won but realizes we already knew. That requires more patience than barging in there. Anyways, we’ve lost her, and we can’t very well knock on every door.”

“Why not?”

“Stop asking questions. We just can’t.”

A sigh from Elide. “Pass me the gummy bears.”

-

They stayed up all night. Telling stories, pinching each other, whatever it took. Lysandra even ran down to another gas station and grabbed some coffees.

Lysandra was telling a particularly ghastly story about Lorcan, and Elide was gasping about her boyfriend’s uncouth behavior, when Lysandra spotted a figure out of the corner of her eye.

People had been walking by all morning (dawn had just passed), so Lys wasn’t expecting it to be anyone important. But what she saw had her dropping her jaw. “Holy. Fucking. Gods.”

“What?” Elide turned and gasped. “Ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh-”

Lysandra clapped a hand over Elide’s mouth. “Hush. They’ll hear.”

She pulled out her cell phone and snapped a picture. Of Aelin with her tongue jammed down Rowan Whitethorn’s throat and his hand on her ass. Holy hell. Another picture as they broke apart, where both faces were clearly visible.

Elide appeared to be trying not to scream. “But. I can’t. They hate each other!”

“Apparently not anymore,” was Lysandra’s dry reply.

Rowan reached for Aelin’s arm and walked with her to his own car. Maybe out to one of the cafes Aelin liked to frequent.

Lys and Elide had been very lucky that Aelin had gone home last night, and now that she and MM - Rowan - were going out somewhere now. And that they had decide to make out right in the line of Lysandra’s phone camera. Yes, they had been very lucky indeed.

“Now what?” asked Elide, seeming to have calmed down.

“Now we swear everyone to secrecy and tell them, just to spite those two-faced worms. Rowan went to my first meeting, you know. A spy, no doubt.”

“We tell everybody?”

Lysandra thought for a minute. “Well, Ansel and Fenrys already know, not to mention they might tattle. I suppose I’ll take mercy on Aelin and let her tell Aedion herself. I want to see Manon’s reaction at the party, so we’ll leave her out of it. Vaughan already left for the holidays, so he’ll have to find out later. Lorcan, Gavriel, and Connall we’ll tell though.”

“Okay.”

The three men were called and told they needed to come to Lysandra’s apartment immediately. They were all instructed not to tell anyone of their whereabouts.

Gathered in Lys’ small living room not too much later, Lorcan said, “Alright, do I really need to ask you ladies why we’re here?”

Elide smiled. “We have news.”

“But,” Lys intervened, “None of you may share this information with anyone. Not a single soul.”

“Why?” asked Connall.

“Just swear it,” Elide commanded.

Lysandra added with a smirk, “On your lives.”

They all rolled their eyes, but swore to stay quiet.

“We know who Aelin’s been sneaking around with,” Elide dramatically announced.

The men had various reactions: Connall gasped, Lorcan smirked, and Gavriel sighed. “Do I even want to know how you’ve come about this information?” asked Gav.

“No, you most certainly do not,” Lys replied. Then she pulled out her phone and showed them the first picture of Aelin and Rowan making out. The angle wasn’t as good as what Lys and Elide had been able to see, so the only distinguishable feature was the hair. While typically silver, Rowan’s hair had caught the light, making it more blonde-like. That did little to narrow down the suspects. They still couldn’t tell who Aelin was with.

“Um, very exciting, but who exactly is that?” questioned Connall.

Wordlessly, Lysandra swiped the screen, moving on to the photo of Aelin and Rowan pulling back and looking at each other.

Shocked expressions graced all of their faces. “What the freakin’ hell. What the holy fucking shit. What the-”

Lorcan was interrupted from his tirade by Gavriel, who just said, “Wow.”

Connall started to laugh darkly. “Those fucking assholes. I’m going to beat the shit out of them. And my brother. Shit, my brother knew?”

Elide smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid both Fenrys and Ansel were aware. They even watched a movie with the two of them a couple days ago.”

“Traitorous pieces of shit. You know, I think I’m content to watch this play out. Aedion doesn’t know?” Connall asked.

“No,” answered Lys with a smile on her face. “And don’t worry,” she added. “I’ll fill you all in on the details of the party. I can’t wait.”

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Home | Part Two

Pairing: 13!Doctor x Daughter!Reader, Graham x Reader (platonic)

Summary: while the fam are away, you and the Doctor have a mother/daughter bonding day

Word Count: 

Warning: none?

A/N: as always spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part One | Masterlist

- - - - -

The control room was unusually quiet. 

Living on the TARDIS for the past month with The Doctor and her three human companions, you’d gotten used to the sound of constant conversation. That’s why you liked going for your morning swim in the TARDIS pool room, it gave you a chance to get away on your own for a while. It’s not that you didn’t like being around them, its just after travelling alone for so long it was a shock to the system to now be travelling and living with four other people. 

Walking closer to the central control panel, towel in hand catching the water droplets falling from your post-swim wet hair, you spot The Doctor down in the hatch under the floor messing with various glowing wires. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, making her jump and she hits her head. “Sorry” you apologise, stifling a giggle as she rubs her hand against the point of impact on her scalp. 

“Just some basic maintenance on the old girl, making sure she’s ready for our Doctor Daughter bonding day” she says with a massive grin as she climbs back up on the main deck and closes the hatch. You look at her slightly confused.

“But, what about the others? Where are they?”

“Dropped them back on Earth while you were swimming. I do that every so often, give them a day to check in with friends and family and do whatever it is humans do. Usually get bored and travel 24hours ahead to pick them back up again but not this time. Me and you are going to have fun. So what do you want to do?” 

She stares at you expectantly like an excited puppy and you just look back at her, bewildered. 

“um…” you look around the TARDIS as you try to think of something to say and something catches your eye. A small tank full of liquid bubbling away and floating in the liquid… a severed hand. “What the…? Why do you have a hand in a jar?” You ask, making your way over to study it closer. 

“Oh that? I got into a sword fight with the leader of the Sycorax on Christmas Day and he cut off my hand. It grew back though. Anyway-”

“No hang on. That is not enough information. I want details. Who are the Sycorax? Why were you fighting them on Christmas Day? Do you even celebrate Christmas? How did your hand grow back? Why did you keep the old one?”

“It’s a long story”

“That’s fine, we’ve got a whole day. This is what I want to do today, I want to stay in the TARDIS and listen to your stories”

“Really? All the planets and galaxies we could be exploring and you want to sit here listening to me?”

“Absolutely! You’ve had such fascinating lives, I want to hear about them. All the planets you’ve saved, bad guys you’ve fought, people you’ve befriended. Everything… Please?”

She studies you for a moment then smiles, taking a seat on the steps.

“Fine. Make yourself comfortable, we’re going to be here for a while”

— — — — 

Almost three hours passed in the blink of an eye. You weren’t just listening to the Doctor talk, you were imagining it all. In your mind you were right there with her, fighting Daleks and Centurians and all sorts. But it wasn’t all fighting. She also told you about the fun times she’d had with past companions. She was just finishing telling you about a woman named River Song. 

“Wait… so, you're married?!” You exclaim

“Technically yes, but it’s complicated”

“You married the daughter of one of your companions…?”

“Like I said, complicated. Anyway-” she changes the subject “did I tell you about the time a woman in a wedding dress appeared in my TARDIS? One minute she’s walking down the aisle, the next minute she’s here. She actually ended up travelling with me for a bit, great woman Donna”

“Donna? The same Donna who was with you when I was created? That Donna?” 

“Yeah thats her. I forgot you two met”

“I loved Donna! She was so kind to me, I thought about her a lot actually while I was travelling. Can we visit her?”

The Doctor’s eyes suddenly fill with sadness and for a moment you think…

“Oh, did she-? Is she…?” You ask awkward, not quite able to bring yourself to finish the question. The Doctor looks at you confused before realising what you're asking.

“Oh! No! No no, she’s alive, she’s fine. She’s back on Earth with her family, married now too. She’s happy”

“That’s great” you breathe a sigh of relief “then why did you look so sad? You scared me!”

“She doesn’t remember me. She can’t ever remember me, or she will die.” 

“I, I’m so sorry” you whisper sadly

“She saved the universe and she has no idea.”

“What happened?” You ask but when The Doctor looks at you you realise she might not want to talk about it “I’m sorry you don't have tell me-”

“No it’s okay. She touched that” she gestures to the hand in the jar “and absorbed Time Lord DNA. She was human, but had the mind of a Time Lord. All that knowledge, it’s too much for any human. It was overwhelming her, killing her. So I went into her mind and erased it all. The knowledge, the adventures, me.”

“I don't understand. You went into her mind? How?” 

“Time Lord trick”

“Can I do it?” You ask and she studies you for a moment, thinking. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe. Try it” 

“What?”

“Try it now. With me.” She turns her body to face you and takes your hand, bringing your fingers up towards her face. “Focus. Empty your mind, and focus on trying to see mine.”

She gently pushes your hand till your index and middle finger are pressed against her temple and instantly your eyes close as you feel a strange sensation wash over you.

“I see a long corridor, lined with open doors” you describe

“That’s it. Choose one and look inside” she instructs quietly

You do as she says, and go to a door. You peek inside and see The Doctor with the fam, dressed in old fashioned clothes dancing with people you’ve never seen before.

“That’s the time we met Mary Shelley and Lord Byron. Strange night” 

You laugh and she tells you to try another door. You do and this time you see a man wearing a bow tie and a fez waving a mop around. 

“Ah that was when I exploded the TARDIS, creating a big bang to reset the universe.”

“Wait, that’s you? What are you wearing?!” You laugh and she gets defensive.

“Hey, bow ties are cool!” she protests

“I was talking about the fez”

“Also cool- just shut up and go to a different door”

You walk further down the corridor and stop at a door when you spot a man you recognise. Your father. He’s sitting on the floor cradling another wounded man. You hear him shouting at the man to regenerate, but he dies. You step away from the door as the Doctor sobs, clutching the dead mans corpse. It’s hard to see him like that.

“I’m sorry you saw that, I should have shut that door” the present Doctor says and you remove your hand from her face, opening your eyes to look into hers.

“Who was that?” 

“The Master, another Time Lord.”

“Another Time Lord? There are more? Can we visit them? Ooh, can we go to your planet-”

“No”

“Why not?! I want to see where you grew up, meet your family-”

“I said no” She says more firmly, startling you as she abruptly stands up and walks away “end of conversation”

“This isn’t fair! I’m one of them I have a right to meet my relatives!” You protest.

She spins around to look at you with such anger in her eyes you barely recognise her.

“No you don’t! You are nothing like them and I will never take you there so just leave it!”

She goes to the TARDIS control and starts fiddling with buttons before reopening the hatch she was working in this morning and climbing back down. She restarts working on wires and you silently watch her for a few moments before getting up and walking off down the TARDIS corridor to your room. You curl up in your bed and try to block out the Doctor’s harsh words. Instead you imagine what the other Time Lords and their planet would be like. It’s not long before you drift off into a light sleep. 

— — — — 

You're awoken not long later by the sound of the TARDIS engines, signalling that you were travelling. You rush out of your room back to the control room in time to see the fam coming back on board. The Doctor greets them in her usually cheery way but you cant help but feel hurt that she jumped forward to pick them up early. So much for Doctor Daughter bonding day. You quickly turn on your heels and go back to your room before anyone spots you. But someone does. 

A few moments later there’s a knock at your door and Graham pokes his head in.

“Alright cockle?” After the mix up during your first meeting Graham had actually become like a father figure to you and you found yourself confiding in him a lot. “What are you doing?” He asks when he spots you packing your few belongings into a backpack.

“Leaving. She clearly doesn’t want me around so-”

“Wait! What are you talking about?! Y/N stop!” He grabs your hands, stopping you from packing anymore and forcing you to look at him “What happened?”

“I asked her to take me to her planet, introduce me to the Time Lords. She got angry and shouted at me and then she skipped forward to pick you guys up early because she doesn’t want to spend time with me.” Your voice cracks slightly and you look away. 

“She does want to spend time with you Y/N, she’s just… awkward. Listen, we’ve all asked her multiple times about her home and every time she either shuts us down or changes the subject. She’s very private about all that stuff”

“But I’m her daughter! I’m the one person she should want to share that stuff with. Instead she told me that she’ll never take me there because I’m not a Time Lord.” You take a deep breath “What if she’s right? What if I’m not a real Time Lord? What am I?”

Graham sighs and shakes his head. 

“I don't know love, only you can answer that. And you know what, who cares if you're not some fancy shmancy Time Lord? I don’t. Ryan and Yaz don’t. We love you just the same, because you're amazing.” He places his hands on your shoulders and looks right into your eyes “You're Y/N! And that’s more than enough” he smiles at you.

“Thanks Graham” you give him a small smile “sometimes I wish you were my real dad” 

“A boring old man like me? Nah you don’t” he laughs “you unpack that bag and join us when you're ready okay?” 

You nod and he leaves the room. You replay his words in your head and sigh, unpacking your stuff again. When you're finished you head out into the control room and spend the rest of the evening chatting to Yaz about what she got up to with her family. 

— — — — 

The next morning you get out of bed early and get ready for your daily swim. You walk down the quiet corridors towards the pool room. The fam are still asleep at this time of morning so the TARDIS is nice and quiet. When you reach the pool you're surprised to see The Doctor stood waiting for you. She looks at you with an awkward apologetic smile as you walk over to her. 

“Never seen you in here before” you state emotionless.

“I want to show you something” 

“In the pool?” 

“No. I knew you always come here every morning and I needed to see you before the fam wake up”

“Okay?” You shrug

“Come with me” 

You follow her back out of the pool room and to the control room. She walks to the TARDIS door and steps out. You stop when you reach the door, cautiously looking out at where you were. 

Before you was a planet unlike any you’d seen. But it was on fire. The sky burnt orange as dark smoke rose from what was left of the buildings. You looked at The Doctor with confusion. 

“Welcome to Gallifrey. Home of the Time Lords” she holds her hand out to you and you take it, stepping out onto the dusty burnt ground. 

“This is your home?” 

“What’s left of it. It was destroyed.”

“By who?” You shake your head, unable to believe what your eyes are seeing.

“The Master.”

“Why? Why would anyone do this?” You feel your heart sinking the more you take it all in. Even though you’ve never been here before, it hurts to see it like this. 

“I don't know” she replies honestly, as she notices the tears filling your eyes “This is why I didn’t want to bring you here. I didn’t want you to see this. Not because I don't think you're a ‘real time lord’ or because I don't want to spend time with you”

You turn to her shocked, how did she know-

“Graham” you whisper to yourself

“He told me how upset you were. And then he told me off for causing it. I’m sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I shouldn’t have taken this out on you. It’s not your fault. And you're right, you do have a right to know who you are, and where you come from. I will try to be more open with you.”

You look into her eyes and smile at her as you pull her into a hug. After a moment she pulls away and smiles back at you.

“Take as long as you need here then come back inside, okay?”

You nod and she walks back into the TARDIS, closing the door behind her. You turn back to look at the planet before you, taking a few steps closer. You take a seat on a small mound of burnt grass, bringing your knees up to your chest. You fold your arms over your knees and rest your chin on them, staring out at the planet imagining what it would have once looked like. 

“Beautiful isn’t it” an unknown male voice beside you. 

You look startled at the man who is now sat next to you. 

“Who are you?”

“Me? Im the one who created this masterpiece. You can call me… Master”

Then suddenly everything is dark. 

Part Three

[wendimydarling]

Worship

Title: Worship

Summary: August puts on a front, but he finally receives the care that he truly needs.

Pairing: August Walker, First Person Reader

Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |

Word Count: 1974

Warnings: Nudity, Oral sex

A/N: Okay so I know I’m the odd one out in that no one sees him capable of agreeing to this, but I just had to see this man get some sweet loving for once. Hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’d been watching him for months. August Walker, famed Hammer of the CIA, rough and rugged vigilante for justice. He was harsh, abrupt, blunt, and any other number of adjectives used to describe a determined man. But what everyone else saw as anger, I saw as a man who was starved for attention, though not in the way you might think. I sensed a poor relationship with his mother, a lack of touch as a child necessary to create the ability to bond with other creatures of this earth, to create empathy.

I intended to rectify this.

He and I built up a sort of relationship over the next few weeks during our latest assignment. Most of the time it would be just the two of us working late into the night, pouring over maps and classified documents to find what was needed. August had a mattress in his office where he slept instead of going home, because there were dozens of boxes of evidence to sift through and the brief wasn’t going to write itself. 

I started testing August too, to see how well my theory applied. I brought him some coffee, brushing my fingertips lightly on his shoulder as I set it down. No initial reaction. Hmmm. I let my hand linger a moment, slid it off his shoulders instead of lifting it, and walked away, staring at his reflection in the large glass writing board behind him. A sizable jerk and rotation of his shoulders. There it is. He didn’t want me to see how much it affected him.

I grew bolder as the nights went on. I’d purposefully sit close to him while we worked, making sure my thigh was pressed against his. When it got really late, I would give his shoulders a quick massage. If he called me over to show me a document, I’d lean in behind him, a hand firmly planted on his shoulder as my breasts grazed his back; our cheeks almost but never quite touching. I never received any indication that it affected him while the transactions occurred, but I could hear the shaky exhalations of his breath when I left, I could see in the reflections of the windows the way he closed his eyes and trembled after my departure. I took mental notes, organizing them into sections to process later.

On the last night there, once August and I finished our work, we celebrated with a bottle of scotch. I wore a soft blouse and a pencil skirt; simple, but effective. Sitting on the same side of the table as usual, this time facing him, I eyed him analytically as we chatted, my ankle resting against his leg. Once again he was perfectly stoic, but I knew better by now. Inside, I knew his body was screaming. I threw back the rest of my drink and set it down on the table, liquid courage coursing through me.

“August,” I said, bending forward and setting my hand gently on top of his wrist. August’s eyes locked onto my hand, and I could see the minute changes in his chest as his breath exited his lungs at a quicker pace. 

“August,” I repeated, “May I touch you?”

August looked up at me then, confused. 

“You already are,” he said cautiously.

“Not like this,” I murmured, tracing circles on his skin. “I want to touch you. All of you. And I think you need it. Do you trust me?”

To emphasize what I meant, I picked his hand up and placed the pad of his forefinger on my tongue, licking a slow line up to his fingernail. A twitch of the eye; the first visible change in his countenance since I started this charade. Interesting.

I kept up my movements, planting soft, wet kisses on his fingers and palm. August just sat there, watching, his breath coming faster and faster. I could tell it bothered him, but that he also wanted more. 

“Does this hurt?” I asked him, moving to his wrist. 

“No,” he lied, the muscles tensing in his forearm giving him away. I knew the painful feeling of abandoned nerves being touched for the first time in years. Just the lightest touch could send blazing fire through your body. I stood up, brazenly straddling his lap as I sat on his thick thighs. As I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing him with a gentle, open mouth he moaned, his hands coming up to grab my neck so he could take charge. I pulled away and grasped his hands firmly, shaking my head.

“Let me touch you,” I whispered, adjusting his hands so they were resting on my thighs. He closed his eyes but held still as I went back to his hair, brushing those curls with my fingers, making sure my nails lightly scraped his scalp. Affectionate. Like a mother should do to their son.

“Why didn’t she touch you?” I asked him softly, running a hand along the side of his face, my touch ever so light. I pressed another wet kiss to his jaw, just below his ear, my fingers working to open the buttons of his shirt. August fingers dug into the flesh of my thighs, and he audibly gasped in my ear.

“She did,” he rasped as my lips found his neck, “It just wasn’t kind.”

There it was. The admission of what I had expected all along: August had been beaten by his mother. My heart broke at the thought of a lonely little boy, hiding in his closet for fear of retribution, for being punished for something he didn’t do. I vowed then and there to heal whatever damage that woman had done that I could, starting with this.

I worked slowly, savoring the taste of August’s skin, pressing a kiss to each new part of his body I could reach as I gradually undid his buttons. His eyes were open now, hooded, watching me as I worked. I was surprised he stayed so still; that wasn’t like the Hammer I knew. Once the final button was undone, I pushed the rough cotton aside, following the lines of his torso with my hands until I could slide the cloth off his broad shoulders. I drank in the sight of his body, charting a map of valleys and highways through his muscles and hair with my fingers, using the few freckles I found as a guide.

I removed my shirt and kissed him again, slow and soft, his lips tasting of scotch. With a gentle pressure, I draped my arms around his shoulders, sliding my bare skin against his. Reveling in how hard he felt. How sweet he tasted. His mouth melted around mine, and I could tell he wasn’t used to kissing a woman so tenderly. I’m going to change that.

“Come with me,” I whispered, planting a delicate kiss on his lips. I stood up and laced our fingers, urging him to follow. August complied, conflicting emotions on his face as we wove through the boxes toward his office. My destination was clear and he wanted the same thing, but I knew that he was thrown off because he preferred to be in charge. I had purposefully asked permission, willing to let him wreck my body if that was what he wanted, and August knew that. So I think the fact that he chose this option instead had stunned him slightly; he was surprised at himself.

Upon reaching his office I turned to August, licking a small line on his bicep that ended in a kiss on his shoulder. He kicked his shoes off, and I kept my mouth on his skin as I fiddled with his belt and his zipper. Squatting, I followed the line of his legs with my lips as I pulled down his pants, receiving my first groan as I kissed his hardened member lightly. 

“Lie down, please,” I instructed him quietly, “On your belly.” 

August did as he was asked, his hesitancy fading into eagerness. I removed the rest of my clothes as he got comfortable on the mattress, his arms under his head. I knelt between his legs, trailing my fingers up the backs of his thighs. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the touch. Stop. My brain told me something about that touch bothered August and I knew, I knew I needed to be careful there. I moved on.

Hovering over his body and avoiding his ass for now, I placed open-mouthed kisses up his spine, exploring his body with my tongue. August finally relaxed for the first time since I met him. He was more vocal now; he moaned and sighed, his breath hitched when I pressed my breasts into his shoulder blades, and a small cry of delight left his throat when my fingers dipped underneath him into the hollows of his hips. His eyes remained closed.

I snuck my fingers into the waistband of his briefs, nibbling on his ribs to distract him from my hands. Leaving little lovebites on his side in my wake I inched toward his ass, peeling the fabric of his underwear off his body as I did. I sat back on my knees, admiring his physique, but August grew quiet, side-eying me as he waited to see what I would do. 

Lying between his legs, I walked my fingertips up his thighs once more, carefully observing the way August  squirmed. It was a pleasant squirm this time, not one of fear, so I kept going, spidering over the curve of his ass. My eyes may have deceived me, but for a moment I thought I noticed the ghost of a smirk on his face. Hmmm. More wet kisses graced his backside before I gently squeezed each cheek. August pushed his ass into the air and I smiled, kneading soothing circles into his flesh and licking wet trails of saliva everywhere that I could reach. 

August rotated onto his back of his own accord and I let him, knowing full well what he was after next. I kept my ministrations soft, still kissing, still worshiping the man that lay before me as I obliged him, hungrily lapping at the thick length that was between his legs. 

If I thought he’d been vocal before, that was nothing compared to the sounds August was making now. Loud groans filled the room, gasps of pleasure echoed throughout the building as I took him in my mouth, giving way to his desperate cry for more. My hands continued to worship him; they ran over his abs, through the hair on his chest, down his biceps to grasp his hips. 

August tangled his hands in my hair and gasped as I sucked him relentlessly, his eyes shut, his face scrunched in the concentrated focus of a man chasing his release. He was close, I could feel it. Come on, August. Come for me.

I swallowed him whole, constricting my throat around him and that was all he needed. With a guttural cry he came, spilling everything he had into my body. Licking off the last few drops, I kissed my way up his torso, gently nibbling on his earlobe as I lay on top of him. The rise and fall of his heaving chest was pushing me up and down like a roller coaster, and I enjoyed it. 

“That was…” August shook his head, unable to come up with any words. There was finally peace on his face, a tranquil calm that I hadn’t seen before. I smiled, continuing to kiss his neck softly as I spoke to him.

“I’m not even close to being done, August. Do you trust me?”

August nodded, looking at me in wonder. I caressed his face, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“Then let me touch you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |

Tags: @littlefreya​ @sciapod​ @thiccgeralt​ @fucking-hell-cavill​ @brexrif​ @peakygroupie​ @viking-raider​ @constip8merm8​ @daniig95​ @elinalfrida​ @hell1129-blog​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @agniavateira​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @sofiebstar​ @wanderinglunarnights​

[morganaseren]

🌹

Right, so the only AUs I’ve yet to reveal (besides the new ones I haven’t outlined yet) are honestly sad/dark AUs. Since the existence of this one is your fault to begin with, I’m going to leave you with an AU scene, where Niamh is turned Tranquil just as the events of What Pride Had Wrought come to a close. >:) Essentially, the Red Templars found a method to perform the Rite of Tranquility almost instantaneously over the course of several months, leading to numerous reports of Tranquil mages being found across Thedas. Niamh was well-aware of all of this before she took her team into the Arbor Wilds, but as the trek through the forest was so arduous, she was running on little energy by the time she defeated Samson. The Red Templars managed to separate her away from the group, and well... She was made Tranquil. Niamh’s team made their way through the Eluvian in the hopes Corypheus wouldn’t discover what had happened to her, and this scene takes place some time after that.

Cassandra watched as Leliana paced soundlessly across the Inquisitor’s personal quarters, her face set into an impassive mask—the same one she had seen her wear for years during their respective duties as the Hands of the Divine.

…at least until her reunion with Lady Cousland, and it was like watching the other woman slowly come to life again as they fell in love.

Still, even the grim resolve she saw here was better than the absolute devastation she had seen on Leliana’s face when she saw Lady Cousland’s condition for the first time upon returning from the Arbor Wilds. The Spymaster had nearly ridden her mount ragged in her haste, especially when Cassandra had sent a message out to her, stating that something had gone wrong in their mission and the Inquisitor’s position had been compromised.

It had been a severe understatement, of course, and Cassandra couldn’t help but grimace as she saw the radiating, curved lines of the Chantry Sunburst branded—albeit haphazardly so if the imperfect embossment was any indication—across the woman’s forehead.

As had been her norm upon their return, Lady Cousland continued to sit eerily at the foot of the bed, staring into the nothingness beyond the balconies. She never spoke unless prompted, and even when she did, there was a dullness to her voice—a sunken stone buried in depths long forgotten—that was a far cry from the woman’s usual quiet warmth and benevolence.

She was little more than a sentinel as she sat there—back rigid and shoulders set—as if waiting for instruction. Waiting to be commanded.

…Waiting to serve.

Cassandra had to swallow the bile that had gathered at the back of her throat.

“Besides abject failure, this was the only thing in all the world that absolutely terrified her,” Leliana said apathetically, hands behind her back as she continued pacing before the fireplace. “That, or the idea that we might succeed, and the Chantry would’ve seen reason to chain her and take away her magic in the most abusive way possible, ensuring that it would never again have a rival to its power.” Blue eyes seemed to burn with more than just the firelit reflection within them. “What does that say about us, I wonder? What does it say that she helped us and agreed to be Inquisitor even with the thought that she’d still have every last shred of her autonomy taken away?”

While the question was an uncomfortable one, Cassandra could only be thankful it was far better than the reaction Morrigan had received, especially when Leliana had discovered the woman had abandoned Lady Cousland in order to chase after the ancient elf responsible for guarding the Well of Sorrows…

---

Leliana’s eyes had been a steely blue as they gleamed beneath the moonlight—a glimmer of a knife’s edge and with all the danger that it implied—as she pulled the mage forward by the lapels of her outfit almost to the point of choking her.

“The only reason my blades haven’t sunk into your neck or that I haven’t thrown you from this very tower is because you told me the knowledge you obtained from the Well of Sorrows might prove useful in overturning what has been done to Niamh,” she said coolly, never raising her voice. “I do not want your apologies or your meager reassurances. I want progress. You and I have nothing to say to one another until then. Am I understood?”

Morrigan’s eyes had narrowed, but even Cassandra could see the guilt that had settled there—a common sight these days—as she was reminded of her own part in Lady Cousland’s current state. As such, the woman could only nod, allowing Leliana to slowly release the strangling grip on her clothing, which Morrigan resettled idly before making her way toward the stairs.

“And Morrigan?”

The mage looked over her shoulder to see Leliana there, standing tall with her hands behind her back—a cold ruthlessness exuding from every pore of her body. Although they weren’t directed at her, Cassandra felt the chill of reproach and threat in that icy glare.

“You may have evaded Flemeth over the years, but make no mistake: if I find you’ve given anything other than your absolute best in helping Niamh—if I find that you’ve abandoned her again—there will be nowhere on Thedas where you can hope to hide from me…”

---

Cassandra sighed. “It was not the Chantry that did this to her, Leliana.”

“But they never argued against the Rite’s use in all its existence, have they? What is the purpose of it if not to chain mages to them with fear?”

“It was originally a preventative measure against the outright execution of mages.”

“Mages they thought might be useful to them alive as pets and mindless servants than dead, Cassandra!” Leliana retorted, whirling on her with fury as the flames from the fireplace outlining her form. “The last Inquisitor warned it could have abused, and nothing was done to prevent it! A thousand years later, and the Chantry is no better than when it first started! Niamh had every reason not to trust in it!”

“Leliana—"

“Do you not see what this world has done to her?! It rejected her, and it denied her very existence as a person! She has been abandoned at every turn the moment her magic manifested! She had very nearly given up by the time she came to The Conclave because she was so desperate to see if it could change one last time for the better, and she ended up bound to the Chantry again as part of the Inquisition instead! Despite everything, despite how much she was hurting, she still sought to try and help us, and this is what she received for her goodwill!”

“Leliana, what more do you want me to say?” Cassandra implored desperately. “I know now how deeply the corruption ran. I know why Lord Seeker Lucius abandoned his duties and why he gave the tome to me. I swear, we are doing everything we can to reverse this, and if it works, I promise I will spread knowledge of the cure all across Thedas, but…” She hesitated. “From what I’ve read, she might not be as she was before.”

Silence.

“You’re telling me that even if this does succeed, I may only have a part of her back?”

“Yes. We have asked her, but her answers remain tied to our desires. She will agree to it if we feel that it is necessary, but she…” Cassandra paused, choosing her words carefully even as she averted her gaze. “Lady Cousland no longer has the will to fully agree to this. Given your relationship with her, I felt you might know her wants better than us. As the reversal has been documented so very few times, it’s possible we can negate some of the more concerning side effects, especially with so many mages here openly helping us, but—”

“Then proceed,” Leliana said without hesitation. “Because I’m not letting her go again.”

((This does have a happy ending. I might write more about it once I get to the Arbor Wilds part of OtSttCA, so there’s still time before I hit you all with a load of sadness and angst. Lol.))

[vindicatedvirgil]

snowstorms & spite

Summary: Remus, idiotic as ever, ventures out during a snow storm after a fight with his husband. But their old car can’t handle the weather, so Janus has to trek out to rescue the love of his life. Spitefully, of course.

Ship: Married Dukeceit/Crime Husbands (Remus x Janus)

Warnings: marital spat, discussions of growing their family, mentions of parental Prinxiety to Remy and of parental Logicality to Emile, cursing, getting trapped in a snowstorm, christmas morning

Word Count: 1900

Author’s Note: This is a holiday gift fic for one of my best friends @5-falsehoods-phonated!! I hope you enjoy the crime husbands following in your footsteps of a snow adventure.

The highlighted lyrics while they’re in their cars are songs from each of their playlists. For Remus it’s Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen, and for Janus it’s Evil Night Together by Jill Tracy. I tried to combine them near the end, I hope it worked. Thanks to Abby for daring me to add Evil Night Together in and to both Cat and Abby from Discord for helping me figure out which Remus playlist song to add in.

---

“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation,” Janus’ voice was rising in volume slowly, his hands clenched at his sides as he stood in the kitchen, a few feet away from his husband. “Re, we’ve been married for six months! I’d love to have this conversation in another year or two, truly, but I love where you and I are right now, just us, in this beautiful house, together.”

“It’s just, spending time around Remy and Emile, seeing how amazing the others are doing as parents… it makes me want us to try, too…” Remus carded a hand through his already messy hair. He had been babysitting Roman and Virgil’s recently adopted 2-year-old, Remy, and he was absolutely smitten. But he’d be even more smitten if it was his own child. And only a few weeks ago, the couple had babysat Logan and Patton’s infant, Emile, and while it was tough, Remus knew he was ready. “If we start the paperwork now, it will take two years, I don’t want to wait another year to start this process. You and I both know how long it took and how difficult it was for Ro and Virgil, and yeah, Lo and Pat got lucky, but…”

“What if we got lucky, Re? Before we’re ready?” Janus countered, and Remus glanced down at his feet. “It’s not that I don’t want kids someday, you know I do. But… I’m not ready, yet. Soon, I will be, but…” He glanced out the kitchen window, watching the snow spin around in the blustery winds. “I’ve got probably a year or two until I make Partner. I want things to be stable if we bring a kid into this mess.”

“Fuck, Janus, can’t you see? A kid would add to our mess in the best of ways,” Remus wanted to grab something and throw it, but he closed his eyes instead, taking deep breaths like his therapist had instructed whenever his anger bubbled up. “I need some air.”

“Air? Remus, there’s a fucking snowstorm going on out there! You can’t go out there right now!” Janus’ voice sounded panicky, and it almost stopped Remus in his tracks. Almost. Instead, Remus stomped out of the kitchen, and Janus could hear as he shuffled into shoes and a coat, grabbed keys, and slammed the front door behind him. Distantly, he heard the roar of the engine of Remus’ old car, until it sped away. 

Janus sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands and his elbows propped up on the wooden surface. He wanted to give Remus everything he wanted, but Remus had a tendency to jump into things without thinking. Their whole relationship had been a series of fast decisions, and while Janus loved the spontaneity at times, sometimes it was too fast. Hell, they’d gotten engaged after only a few months of dating, and it took pushing from Janus for them to wait a year after the engagement for the wedding. Part of Janus wondered if one day, his husband would just decide to leave, and without much thought, pack his bags and go, never to be seen again.

-

Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time, I feel alive, And the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah

The music faded into the background as soon as it had started. Remus gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could, blinking away the tears that stung at his eyes. His whole life was a series of disappointments, relationships that ended too quickly or family members that shunned him for being strange. Janus was the first person to see him, truly see him for all that he was, and from that first moment the two held their hands together, Remus knew he would never let go. His relationship with his twin had always been a fraught one, and his childhood was full of pent-up anger and a depression that seeped into every part of his life.

But Janus changed all of that, helping Remus start therapy, with his anger management exercises, being a constant good presence in his life. Remus was ready to put these things into practice, was ready to give a kid the childhood that he never got to have. It would bring more stability to his life.

Was that a stupid reason to want to become a parent? Maybe. But Janus usually made all of his stupid decisions seem reasonable. Until now. This was their first big fight since getting married, and the only other big fight of their relationship was when Remus tried to get Janus to elope the week after proposing. In hindsight, waiting until they had saved up to put a down payment on a house was the right call.

Remus tore through the empty streets of their small town, the realization dawning over him like the way the sun pours over their roof every morning. Janus was the stability that Remus had needed his whole life, and if they needed to wait until Janus felt prepared to bring a child into their lives, then Remus would do it. Even if it took a decade. For Janus, Remus would do anything.

Of course, right as he was going to make a u-turn to head back to the house, the car slammed into a snowbank and shut off. Remus banged his head back on the headrest, groaning as he grabbed his phone out of the center console, quickly calling his husband. 

“Re? You okay?” His husband’s voice on the other line was laced with concern, and Remus felt a pang of guilt at this. 

“I’m okay, I just, uh, hit a snowbank and the car gave out on me,” Remus explained rather sheepishly. “Can you come give me a jump, babe?” He heard shuffling in the background, and a clank of keys, and he knew that Janus was already in shoes and a coat, heading out to his car. “I’m near the junction of 4th and 9th.”

“I’ll be there in five,” Janus said, and then the line cut out, and Remus was plunged back into silence and darkness, the snow covering his windshield. He leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his realization.

Even if Janus decided he never wanted kids, that would be okay with Remus. Janus would always be more than enough for him.

-

I'll hold your hand while they drag the river, I’ll cuddle you in the undertow

Janus’ car sped through the dark streets, his heart refusing to settle. Snowstorms were dangerous, and Remus knew that, and he still went out and drove, and he could have gotten hurt, and then Janus would be alone again, and that would have destroyed him. Not now, not when they were talking about expanding their family, not when they’d only been married for a short time, it wasn’t long enough, it would never be long enough. Janus would never survive the loss of his husband.

I'll keep my hand on your trigger finger, I'll take you down where the train tracks go

And then it hit Janus, as if he had been pelted with a snowball right in his splotchy face. He’d do anything for Remus, to make his husband happy, to be with him for their whole lives. 

Let's wile away the hours, Let's spend an evil night together

He drove to park right next to Remus’ car, and then the couple exited their respective vehicles, Janus gripping the jumper cables tightly. Remus stood sheepishly by his car, the hood propped open, and Janus propped his open, attaching the cables. He worked in silence, not giving a glance to his husband, because what was the protocol when your husband, who stormed out in the middle of a fight, needed his car jumped? Janus didn’t know. Waiting until they were back home to finish their discussion was probably the best option at this point. 

They quickly got Remus’ car back up and running, and Remus stood awkwardly, watching Janus remove the cables. “Janus-” “Let’s just head home and get out of these cold clothes, okay? Then we can talk. I’ll follow you just in case,” Janus responded curtly, and he got back into his car. He watched as Remus got into his car and began driving home, and then followed him closely, their speeds definitely lower than they had been on their way to the location. 

Who's gonna make you a hero, Who's gonna blow you away, Who's gonna make you a hero

I'm travelling at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man out of you

-

Once they got home, they quietly went up to their bedroom, changing out of their clothes and into warm pajamas, and then the couple found themselves silently sitting on the couch, the fireplace warming the room slowly. 

“Janus, I had a realization,” Remus said suddenly, turning to look at his husband. He took one of Janus’ hands in both of his. “I don’t need to start a family, I have you. I thought that I needed more stability, but you’re everything that I could need… I know I jump into things a lot, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and losing you isn’t an option. Whatever I can do to keep you by my side, I’ll do it.” Janus glanced at where their hands met, because the tears were threatening to fall and he didn’t want to look at his husband, not when he was saying such wonderful things, because he knew he’d turn into a blubbering mess.

“Re, when you called, I-” he paused, taking a deep breath; he didn’t want his words to come out in gasps. “I thought something had happened to you. And my first thought was that we haven’t had enough time together, but I don’t think any amount of time together will ever be enough, not with you. Whatever it takes, Re. I’m in this with you for the long haul.”

-

Janus’ eyes flickered open, and he felt around to where he thought Remus would be. But the bed was empty and cold, and he shivered, sitting up and glancing around the bedroom. He could hear music playing in the front room, and he could smell coffee brewing and… bacon? 

And then he realized; Christmas morning had come. It had been a few weeks since the snowstorm. Conversations had been had, websites had been glanced at, but in the end, the couple had decided that waiting was the best option for now. Until that day where they decided to become parents, they’d live vicariously through babysitting their friends’ children, and they’d enjoy their nights curled up in front of the fire.

Janus slowly got out of bed, wrapping his robe around himself tightly, then padded down the stairs to find the tree lit up, a fire in the fireplace, and his husband, setting mugs of coffee and plates full of breakfast food on the coffee table.

“Babe, you should have stayed in bed a little longer,” Janus murmured, coming up behind him, wrapping his arms around Remus’ torso. Remus leaned back, a soft grunt coming from him before he spun around in Janus’ arms, their lips finally meeting.

“Merry Christmas, Jan,” Remus whispered, and Janus smiled, leaning in to kiss his husband again.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

---

if you liked this, please consider reblogging! it helps creators like me get their work noticed by more folks.

[masterlist] [AO3]

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 29 - Deimos

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ here is the latest update

Deimos

…

…

[There's Nothing Here.]

…

…

Gengar has safely taken you to the Wild Area, carrying you on his back.

The shadow has disappeared along the way, seemingly decided to give up pursuing you, for now.

Your mind has been unable to settle, to register the horrific incidents that had just taken place. Your Pokemon are dead. You were attacked in your own home. Nothing is safe.

A little voice in your mind has popped up, wanting to be heard, and it’s all about giving up. It would be so easy to quit, to surrender and submit to it all - whether it be your fate or destiny, or maybe it had been this way all along and this was how it was meant to be right from the very start, but for some reason, you had resisted it.

For a long time, you had not experienced fear but tonight, it had all come crashing back to you. You realised how helpless you were, how tiny and insignificant everything truly was.

As Gengar descends, having found a suitable place for landing, the cold rush of wind that hits you provides a tiny window of clarity.

No, I can’t give up. It’s only just begun.

You let out a choked rasp of anguish. A loud gasp rips from the back of your throat and a single tear pours from the corner of your eyes. No, no, this won't do. Squeezing your fist into a tight ball, you regather your composure and quickly squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head before re-opening your eyes.

Whatever it is, you're determined to make it pay.

You will destroy it, if it's the last thing you do.

The change of scenery from the sleepy town of Wedgehurst to the vast and empty expanse of the Dusty Bowl is unfamiliar to you. The Wild Area is so dark and empty, it’s unsettling. You think back to your researching days, when you would spend many nights here on your own, in the dark, in the wildnerness with nothing but a torch, some food and pokedolls…and wonder how on earth did you do it?  

When the pokemon lets you off, Gengar helps you sit down on a rock where you can gather your thoughts. You haven’t spoken since the ordeal and it looks like you’re still in shock. Your face is pale from fright yet your expression is impassive.

He’s worried, and he asks Mimikyu to help whilst he stays by your side: you've essentially run from home in your pyjamas and with no shoes, so she is tasked to find you some warm clothes.

The doll departs and quickly finds a campsite nearby – she spies a young couple sleeping inside their tents and sneakily ransacks their supplies, grabbing a pair of socks, shoes from the backpacker girl along with her coat.

Mimikyu returns with her goodies and hands them to you; she’s surprised you’re not reprimanding her as you usually would whenever she does something bad or wrong.

Instead, you silently don a stranger’s shoes and coat...and then you check the contents of your bag. You didn't pack much, if anything at all. Also, Rotom is missing. You must have left him at home.

Gengar and Mimikyu watch as you come across your radio next, pull it out and turn it round, switching it on, only for a horrific static noise to come blaring out followed by a deep male’s voice iterating the nursery rhyme “Ring-a-round-a-rosie,” repeatedly.

You hurriedly switch it off but the voice continues and seeing how shaken you are, Gengar slaps it out of your hands and onto the ground before he proceeds to stomp on the device, breaking it in half. To top it all off, he shoots it into smithereens with a Dark Pulse.  

“Thanks.”

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

Next, you fish Vulpix’s capsule and release her. Once she emerges, your pokemon looks up at you expectantly. Your small team fall into line together and you glance at them all as they wait for your next instructions.

With a deep breath, you release a sigh and close your eyes briefly, then reopen them.

“…There's something after me, and it kills pokemon,” you utter, “Cutiefly and Sunkern are dead. The khira dagger broke and the talismans didn’t work. I don't know what it is. It's not a human, pokemon, spirit...I don't even think it's a demon. I can’t really explain it and I know how it sounds, but…it’s not from this world.”

You had stumbled over your words, your voice trembling. The pokemon, except Gengar, blink in alarm, exchanging glances between each other before they begin to crowd around you.

You step back, shaking your head.

“I’m releasing all of you. It will keep going after me so if you stay, I’ll only get you killed. Go home. You’ll be safe,” you utter shakily, and Mimikyu and Gengar look at you with widened eyes. "I want to thank you all for your help. I've enjoyed our time together, even though it was short."

Poor Vulpix is the most confused, padding up to you and sitting at your feet, looking up at you with her glossy eye. She had just been adopted and now she will be abandoned again. She sits on her haunches as you shake your head sadly before she lets out a mournful howl. Lowering yourself to a crouch, you gently pick her up and embrace her tightly, before letting her back down.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

It’s Gengar and Mimikyu next, and you pick up the ragdoll and hug her firmly before moving onto Gengar.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find Gossamer Cave.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

You shake your head.

“I can’t let you go on your own.”

“You can’t go with me.”

“But I promised to fight with you, to stay by your side,” he replies.

“I’m sorry, Gengar. I can’t take any risks. This is the only way I can keep you safe. You should go back and be with your trainer.”

"But you are my trainer now."

That makes you hesitate; Gengar's loyalty is touching and you let out another gentle sigh under your breath.

“What if you can’t find the cave?”

“I will.”

“Then we’ll wait for you here,” Gengar replies and you smile weakly at him. “We’ll wait for you.”

Without further ado, you turn your back on your pokemon, heading towards the opposite direction where the path that leads into the Dusty Bowl awaits. The pokemon begin to trail after you - you can hear their little footsteps - but you turn round and shake your head firmly, warning them. Vulpix and Mimikyu joins Gengar's side, watching you leave.

“Are we really free?” Mimikyu asks.

“Free or not, I’m waiting for her here,” Gengar says, folding his arms. “If you want to leave, you can go.”

“Suit yourself, mi.” Mimikyu replies.

…

Mimikyu heads for the tall grass. She’s a little stunned; Gengar and Vulpix are going to wait for you to return, but you had released them because it was no longer safe to be around you anymore.

Unsure what to really do or where to begin, now that she’s a free pokemon, Mimikyu wades through the undergrowth with little idea of where she’s going or where she should be heading to, or where her new or next home should be.

She accidentally bumps into a tough-looking Tyrogue who attempts to chase her away from its territory but she teaches him a lesson in sharing by letting loose a shadowy claw and slapping him away. The weakened Tyrogue has no choice but to let her wander around to her heart’s delight but even then, Mimikyu discovers she doesn’t like living in the tall grass. It’s too primitive.

She dawdles for a long time aimlessly until she comes across a clearing where a bunch of wild Mimikyu can be seen gathered together up ahead. Home! She’s home…

Immersing herself into the group, Mimikyu lifts a claw and attempts a friendly wave.

“Mi mi,” she says, but when they turn round, they only emit squeaking noises and she is greeted with haunting disguises that resemble Pikachu, her most hated enemy.

The disturbing black squiggles that are meant to resemble its eyes...they are so empty and hollow and sinister, it scares her.

Seeing her own kind dressed up as a Pikachu, desperate for attention and love, pretending to be something they’re not, lying to themselves in order to escape their never-ending cesspit of loneliness and melancholy, Mimikyu shakes her head furiously, coming to the realisation that she doesn’t belong here.

Instead of dressing up as Pikachu, they should be dancing around a burning effigy of the electric rodent!

Used to a warm bed and roof over her head, along with three meals a day and drink at virtually no cost, she realizes how difficult it would be to adjust to the wildlife and she does not remember how she used to live before she was taken in by humans.

Now she will need to look for food and drink on her own, as well as a place to sleep for the remainder of her days. She scampers away in fright at the newfound revelation, or crisis, and finds a pond where she sits at the damp, mossy edge, looking at her reflection.

She’s an ugly little ragdoll but a kind-hearted human took her in and she had a family. She had Gengar, Runerigus and Vulpix.

She begins crying, lost and confused and scared, until the shadow of a tree wobbles and a familiar pokemon steps out, carrying a one-eyed Vulpix under one arm.

“Gengar! Vulpix!” she exclaims, looking up as the shadow pokemon floats over to her. “You didn’t leave mi?”

Gengar shakes his head whilst Vulpix begins licking her face. "I knew something like this would happen to you,” he says. “You're not used to wild life anymore, are you?"

“No, mi want a nice home and warm food. I’m sorry for leaving. Let’s go, let’s find her.”

He nods, and together, they return to the main path where they attempt to follow their trainer’s lingering scent.

…

On your own, you have been unable to determine your bearings, where is north, south, east or west; you were certain you were at least on the right path by recalling some familiar landmarks of the region such as the huge, Musharna-shaped rock or Rhydon-shaped tree and you’ve ended up trekking onto uncharted territory, a path no-one had ever stepped foot on and now a sandstorm had whipped up from virtually out of nowhere.

The harsh wind billows from every corner; luckily, you’d packed a pair of goggles earlier to protect your eyes from the sand but the storm is too strong and you find yourself being blown away on one occasion too many. You persevere, pushing your body forwards and to the limit, lifting your arms up to shield yourself, planting one foot in front of the other slowly but steadily.

You hear a familiar buzz closeby before a small, red pokemon pops up and into the air and your eyes widen with shock.

"Rotom!" you exclaim as he bobs in front of you, "what are you doing here?"

"I fell azzleep in your bag, zzzipped myzzzelf up inzzzzide a pocket and juzzt woke up. What'd I mizzz, zzrt?"

You let out a heavy sigh. "Where do I even begin?"

Your phone glimpses around before he flies towards you and buries itself into your jacket for safety, peeking out behind your lapels.

"Where are we, zzrt? Actually, never mind! Let me find out, bzzrt!" his screen goes blank as he attempts to find your location but nothing happens; his screen is a fuzzy, jumbled mess of grey. "Lookzzz like I have no zzzignal. Oh dear, bzz."

"I'm not surprised."

"Can we go home, zzrt?"

"Not yet. Sorry, Rotom."

With Rotom as your remaining pokemon, you plough on. He moves to hide in your backpack, trembling with fear.

You’d been stuck in this sandstorm for what appears to be an eternity, with no end in sight and your feet are beginning to hurt.

Stopping, you glance around but you cannot see anything, only sandy smog that batters you from all directions. Looking behind your shoulders, your footsteps have disappeared too.

“Where are we, bzzrt?” Rotom asks.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Rotom.”

“It’zzz okay, zzrt,” he replies. “we’re in thizzzz together.”

You’ve had your Rotom phone for a while now and he’s been so good to you. “We can do this, Rotom,” you reply.

He nods, and you continue your journey though you realise the storm has grown even stronger and the temperature has dropped and now you cannot even keep your balance as the wind blows you left and right, forwards and backwards. You cry out as you stumble around blindly and Rotom gets blown out of your backpack.

“EEP! Help!!!” he cries out as he’s whisked up and into the storm.

“Rotom!!” you yell, attempting to reach for him but he quickly vanishes from view, disappearing amidst the sand.

“Help!” he cries, though you can no longer see him.

“Rotom?? Where are you?” you yell, throwing your glance around wildly.

It’s silent.

“Rotom?! Hang in there, I’ll find you!”

Breaking into a sprint, you rush towards the direction you had last seen Rotom. To your dismay, you are greeted with nothing but the same dreary and blustering, never-ending sandy winds. Panting, you stop. Your mouth is dry, your mind hazy. You cannot even tell if you’re running in circles, if you’d been here before, if you’re heading back to where you came from.

Surrounded by nothing but billowing winds and sand, you realise how truly alone and lost you are.

“Rotom??” you yell into the vast nothingness.

There is no response, as expected.

“How does Ezra see where he’s going?” you mutter to yourself.

The sudden realization comes to you like a tonne of bricks dropping over your head.

He doesn’t.

Closing your eyes, you are freed from the rampant distraction of the sandstorm.

Taking a deep breath, you take one step forwards. Then another, and another. You let your feet wander on their own accord, taking one step at a time. You hold your breath to focus, concentrating as much as you can on pinpointing the correct path, the way forwards.

Allowing your senses to take over, your body begins to feel weightless and free as your feet carry you through the expanse. You guide yourself, clinging to a weak instinct that lingers in your gut which tells you that you’re heading the right way, and soon, your surroundings grow silent.

You stop walking.

The sandstorm has vanished and everything is still.

Opening your eyes, you blink, your eyes slowly adjusting to the light.

Your shoulders loosen up, the tension eroding away. You have escaped the sandstorm, and into a thick blanket of bluish grey mist filled with floating pieces of tiny pearly lights.

Observing them, you reach a hand out and press your fingertip against one of the lights which chimes and twinkles loudly, similar to the fairy lights of the Slumbering Weald.

Up ahead, a white orb of light bobs towards your direction. It grows brighter and brighter and as you squint your eyes for a better look, you make out the shape of a figure heading your way through the thick fog.

It’s a pokemon - the shiny Lucario you had seen all those years ago.

He stops before you, his red eyes meeting yours; he looks no different than the last time you had seen him, his golden fur grizzled and washed out, his expression stoic and calm. The light is emitting from the tip of his staff, which stops glowing and dies away slowly.

“You have found us," he says, with a brief nod of his head. "Well done. Follow me.”

“Wait, what happened to Rotom?”

“He’s fine,” Lucario replies, “You needn’t worry. Come along now. Don’t fall behind.”

Nodding, you trail after Lucario silently as he leads you through the surreal mist. On this occasion, the journey is a short and straightforward, linear path.

When he stops, you join his side, revealing a familiar sinkhole that’s bathed in swirling fog.

“Gossamer Cave! It’s real!" you exclaim as you peer down the ledge; everything is indeed as you had remembered.

“Yes.” Lucario lowers his staff and points the tip at the foggy cave entrance. “You must go inside on your own.”

You nod. “I am alone.”

He shakes his head and draws his staff near his shadow and lifts, reeling something out; it’s a chubby black blob which unfurls to reveal Gengar. You exclaim loudly with surprise, and the pokemon grins sheepishly at you.

Lucario frowns and shakes his head. “You must go in alone.”

“Can he wait for me outside?” you say, and Lucario growls lowly from his throat.

“Fine,” he grunts out, after a brief while.

You smile with gratitude and thank the pokemon profusely before throwing your glance to Gengar. He grins at you widely and you share an embrace. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried,” says Gengar, and you both quickly pull away to blink with shock, realizing his voice could be heard clearly out loud. It must be this strange place; it’s blurring two realities together.

However, you and Gengar merely grin and throw your arms around each other once more, his stubby arms wrapping around your back tightly.

“Thank you, Gengar,” you murmur, the corner of your eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you so much. Where are the others?”

“They’re waiting for you in the Dusty Bowl,” he says. “Don’t cry. You’re not alone. We’re here for you.”

You nod, and he releases you.

Unaffected by your reunion, Lucario steps in and says sternly, “It’s time. We will wait for you here. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Lucario.”

You pass them and begin to descend the rocky stairs without further ado, holding onto the vines for support. A serious flicker of déjà vu flashes in your mind for a split second and promptly disappears. Déjà vu or not, you have been here before and everything is exactly as it was many years ago. This place has remained untouched and unburdened by humans which prompts you to believe that you could have entered a different dimension, somehow.

Once you reach the bottom, the gloomy and dark entrance of the cave awaits you. The entrance seems bigger than last time; the slit is wider and stretches high above your head.

This is what Ezra was training you for, and now it’s time.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally assure yourself that everything is going to be fine and you are doing the right thing, though your pounding heart seems to tell you otherwise.

Ezra told you an ancient relic can be found here, and it will help you. You trust your mentor with your life.

Stepping towards the dark slit in the wall, you reach into your bag and pull out your torch, switching it on. It will be your only source of light as you navigate through the darkness that awaits you; you shine the light further within and it stretches all the way into the tunnel but to your surprise, there is no dead end in sight.

The tunnel seems to go on and on.

“It’s changed,” you murmur to yourself and as you step inside, a loud crumbling sound permeates the stillness and the entire cave trembles.

You turn round, witnessing the entrance close up behind you; vines entwine together, rocks and mud are pushed into each other by some unknown, unseen force. You're quickly sealed in, and you swallow down.

There's no way out... and you shine your torch around the gloomy walls, listening out for nothing but the casual drip of water from the stalactites splashing over the ground.

The interior of the cave has indeed changed since the previous venture. The left wall is covered entirely with cave paintings of stick figures and you presume this is supposed to be a depiction of early humans.

Stepping closer, you stop in front of the mural and reach over, running your fingertip over the dried paint and rub your fingers together; the paint falls off your skin in tiny flakes.

Following the rest of the pictures along the way, they progress from meaningless stick figures to a series of red handprints along with several names etched beside them, only there aren’t many names that match the number of handprints. You do not recognize the names until you come across Ezra’s name.

These must be the names of people who came here before you, and you glimpse up and around until you spot a rockpool near the wall brimming to the full with a thick, viscous red liquid which appears to be the origins of the paint.

You crouch by the pool and with your other hand, slowly press your palm into the ink, then find a random space on the wall and press your palm flat over the cold, uneven surface. Lifting your palm off, you see your name suddenly appearing on the wall from the stone and your eyes widen.

You decide to follow the rest of the paintings, moving along the wall. The paintings move from showing early humans carrying spears, to humans accompanied with prehistoric pokemon such as Aerodactyl, Kabutos and Omanytes.

The paintings unfortunately come to an end, and the last one shows an unsettling, bizarre-looking blob painted in black by an abundance of red dots that surround it in a spherical fashion.

You scrutinise this picture thoroughly, coming to the conclusion that whatever it’s meant to be, it's similar to the shadow creature that attacked you although this painting depicts it surrounded by humans who are bowing down, most likely in worship. Some of the painted figures are accompanied with small pokemon, too.

You move onto the next set of paintings that are far more colourful; a shining white creature has been painted, surrounded by an ochre ring: Arceus.

There are also early depictions of Palkia, Dialga and Giratina along with a drawing of a large red pokemon which you can only believe is Groudon, followed by an elegant blue pokemon, Kyogre.

It’s a timeline of ancient history, and a faint rumble captures your attention and you shine your torch towards the tunnel that lies ahead.

It had come from deep within.

You grow still, listening and staring into the darkness where the light doesn’t reach.

Holding your breath, you wait for a reply as the ground beneath you quakes and the grumbling from within grows louder and louder until a red light flickers briefly from deep within the tunnel.

Cocking your head to the side, you make a move forwards until your torch wavers, the light flickering on and off and growing dimmer and dimmer.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, giving the device a few hefty slaps with the heel of your palm.

When you get it working back to proper order, the red light has vanished and your brows furrow in confusion.

There's something down there and there are no other areas of interest here so you must continue to move forwards; you carefully navigate your way into the tunnel which descends to a rather steep path that leads you deeper and deeper into the belly of the cave. Along the way, you are mindful of sharp rocks that stick out from the ground and sides and the more you venture, the colder it becomes.

Pulling your coat tightly to yourself, you plod through until the path expands, revealing a large clearing and as you arrive, your breath lodges in your throat.

The cave itself is larger inside than it looks compared to outside, with magnificent, huge walls that stretch all the way to unknown heights. You’re certain if you shine your torch up, the beam of the light would not be able to reach the ceiling.

A square, stone platform stands in the middle of the cave, with four pillars in each corner. Huge runes have been carved on the stone pillars, and you recognise some of them from Ezra’s teachings. Some are faded but from you can make out, they spell a simple message which translates to ‘He Who Hath Come Hath Thy Eyes’.

You wander towards the platform, standing in the middle. Below, a pentagram in a perfect circle has been etched along with a symbol in the very middle, one you don’t recognise.

The rumbling stirs the atmosphere once again, except it sounds closer now, much, much closer….coming from above…and the cavern walls tremble and you instinctively take a few steps backwards, glancing around cautiously.

You are no longer alone; a shadow swoops down from the ceiling and lands on the platform.

The impact sends you tumbling backwards and you drop over the ground, rolling awkwardly before you manage to regain your balance and with your torch, you quickly gather yourself back up and shine the light on the creature.

It’s a dark blob….and it doesn’t move, doesn’t react to your light shining on its form. It’s still, as though frozen in time but occasionally disrupted with a slight twitch accompanied with a low, buzzing, or humming noise and you slowly rise to stand, pushing yourself off the ground.

It appears to be assembling itself; though its body seems to be nothing but darkness, you can make out wave-like ripples and swirls on the surface that run throughout its body in casual waves…as though it’s unfurling and curling. It moves like a fabric in water though its texture appears anything but smooth.

There’s many thoughts racing through your mind: organic or inorganic? Sentient or not? Malicious or benevolent?

Surprisingly, you do not feel threatened by its presence and as it continues to transform, it begins to twitch violently until two rudimentary appendages bursts out from its back, twisting together and stretching up high into the air. They’re wings, and they divide into four, then six.

A single dot of red light accompanies it, shining brightly in the middle of the dark mass. It soon splits into two, then three, four….five…It continues to divide until there are a total of eight that begin to rotate clockwise in a hypnotic fashion.

They swivel and weave in enticing motions before they group together to form a horizontal line in front of you. Then they quickly assemble into a vertical line and finally, a small, shapeless cluster. These strange lights hover close to your right, peer at you up and down, then hastily retreat and move to your left and do the same. They appear to be curious about you, inspecting you keenly.

It's identical to what you saw in your bedroom.

Not lights, you think to yourself. Eyes.

The creature is huge, towering many feet over you. Unable to tear your gaze away, you throw your glance left, right and up as the eyes return to its main position in the centre and regard you intensely in return.

Not a human.

Not a pokemon.

“Deimos,” you breathe out.

The eyes glow softly in response, enticing you to come forwards.

Taking one minuscule step, you slowly raise a hand - your hand cannot stop shaking – and though your gesture is bold, to touch it, it stays still and your palm lands on a cold but smooth surface and what feels like a cool breeze surges through your entire body, sending tingles down your spine. You let out a loud gasp from the sensation and retreat your palm.

The crippling fear, the loneliness, the agony, the despair...

It has all but disappeared.

"I know why you're here," a quiet voice whispers in the dark.

It's deep but gentle...and it doesn’t sound male or female...or anything at all, if possible.

“You’re the one who Ezra spoke to when he was a child. You taught him,” you murmur. “And you helped him all those years ago, too. It was you.”

"You want to learn how to stop Phobos.”

"Phobos?"

The eyes join together and arrange themselves, moving towards the ceiling; they shift from blood red to a golden glow at once, the eyes growing glossy. You believe it's looking at something.

“Phobos is one of my kin. He revels in chaos, enjoys feeding more than I do, and he enjoys wreaking havoc unto humans and pokemon.”

You're confused. What exactly are Deimos and Phobos? “Why me? Why Rosie...my mum and dad???”

“You and your sister possess aura, and a large amount of it. Your sister was devoured for that reason, and you’re next. Your mother and father were unfortunately fodder along the way. You are correct; Phobos must be stopped, in order to preserve the balance of the universe."

Its glossy red eyes shows your reflection and the expression on your face...you have never seen yourself look so awestruck yet petrified at the same time, and it's as though it's looking at you too, staring right into your soul.

"You...you'll help me?" you stutter out, swallowing down thickly.

"Yes."

You hold your breath.

"You're in pain. And you have been, for a very long time. I can take it all away. I can make it stop.”

Nodding weakly, your mouth quivers as a shaky breath leaves your throat.

"I just want this nightmare to end," you whisper. "What do I need to do?"

"Let's form a pact," it says. "You and I."

...

You emerge from the cave.

Gengar and Lucario head over; the Pokemon are pleased to see you and as you meet them, you and Gengar share an embrace once more.

“What happened? You were inside for a long time. Did you find it?” Gengar asks as you pull away with a nod.

“I found it,” you reply, smiling, “I know what to do. Everything's going to be okay now. Let's go back.”

Gengar nods; he does not fail to notice the distinct shade of your eyes, which is a curious shade of red.

…

EXTRA NOTES: (these are from AO3, I added them incase anyone is confused -

Deimos was actually meant to converse a bit more with Reader, but the more it did, the more it lost the mystery that surrounds it.

Honestly I wasn't sure myself if this was the right direction to go but I didn't think it would be convincing if Deimos turned out to be a pokemon - Darkrai for example, or even a pokemon I made up because I think that would be hard to imagine - so I've kept Deimos as this cosmic entity/eldritch horror that resides in a cave which is only accessible by those who possess an extremely high level of aura.

It's kind of similar to Mirage Island, I guess?? but it will also not appear unless the individual possesses a high level of aura too. Reader is a late bloomer, which is why it took her so long to reach this stage. Deimos and Phobos are kin, but Phobos is evil and Deimos can be considered good. If you have further questions please feel free to ask.

[kookoobeans]

Surprise surprise // Lucien

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,904

Summary: It's Lucien's birthday and you decided to surprise your handsome prince.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucien's birthday is coming up so you decided to plan a surprise for him. You told the head of the orphanage he always visits with you your plan to which she agrees right away. After all, Lucien is the kids' favorite person and celebration the professor's special day together is a great idea. You want it to be perfect that you practically spend your breaks planning. Even Anna, Kiki, Minor and Willow help you from the beginning to end since you're also busy with the company. The day is going fast and it's actually a trouble hiding this to Lucien because your man is a smartass that he catches up easily on you. Always asking you questions which almost had you spilling the beans. Luckily, he's still clueless or so you hope. Soon enough the day finally came. You woke up early only to see the spot beside you empty. The covers are cold letting you know that it has been empty for a while now. You get up and walk to the living room to see Lucien reading. Slowly, you walk up behind him and wrap him in a tight back hug. He stops reading, put down his book and holds your hands.

“Hey, why are you up this early?” he asks you rubbing circles in your hand. You nuzzle your head in his neck.

“I should be the one asking you that.” He chuckles at your response. He faces you and kiss your forehead.

“I’m always up this early but it’s quite strange for you to be awake at this hour.” He said smiling as gentle as his hold on you.

“Well since its both our day off today. I was planning to ask you to go out with me so begone to the bathroom and change.” Its not actually your day off today, you just took a leave after finishing everything in advance. Victor was surprised that you report to him quite early and not days late this time.

“Is that your way of asking me on a date? I believe I should be the one doing that.” He said but still get up and drag you along.

“If you thinks it’s a date, then date it is. Besides, I can ask you on a date if I want to you know. Go ahead. Off you go!” you push a laughing Lucien in the bathroom. When you're sure that he can't hear you anymore, you dialed Kiki's number to check up on things. Hearing the bathroom door opens, you hang up without saying goodbye.

“You done? Wait for me in the living room. I'll be quick.” You didn't give him time to respond as you rush to the bathroom to groom yourself. When you come out, he was sipping tea. He rise up when he saw you.

“Shall we?” offering you his hand, you went out and make your way to the orphanage. He did ask you about your destination but you insist it's a secret. As you arrive at the orphanage, you can see Lucien being confused but didn't say a word. No one was around when you arrive which makes the place so quiet. You enter the garden and sit on a nearby bench.

“I’ll just go look for someone. I'll be quick.” You stand up ready to leave.

“I’ll go with you.” He also stands up but you push him back.

“No stay here, I won't take long.” He gave up and let you be. You make your way to the hall to change clothes and join everyone who's hiding since you arrive. You signal a kid to go to Lucien as planned. Your man sat quietly waiting for you return, just as he thinks you're taking too long a kid come up to him.

“Professor! This is for you!” the little boy hands him a small piece of paper.

“Hello. Thank you young man.” He takes the note as the boy runs away. He reads it smiling as soon as he sees the message.

‘Happiest birthday to the smartest scientist and kindest professor in the whole world. May you have a day as lovely as a butterfly and a life as beautiful as a rainbow.’ He flip the paper to see an instruction. ‘Go to the event hall, My prince.’ He chuckles at the nickname. As soon as he step into the hallway, he is greeted by little princes and princesses all lined up holding flowers.

“Hello Prince Lucien.” The kids say in unison, bowing in the process.

“Greetings your majesties. You all look lovely in those clothes.” Lucien play along and bow down. His smile never leaving his face. Two princess came up to him holding a crown and clothes for a prince.

“This is for you. Your princess is waiting for you right down the hall.” They say excitedly handing him the clothes and the crown. He gently takes them and put it on.

“Then I suppose I should get going. I can't let the princess wait for too long.” The kids giggle and make way for him. When he reach the event hall, the music starts playing as soon as he enters. There he saw, his beautiful princess in her dress waiting for him. The place is decorated enchantedly. You turn around and smile sweetly at him. He walks up to you reflecting the smile you have. The moment he's right in front of you, you give him the flower you're holding.

“Happy birthday! Would you give me the honor of dancing with you, My prince?” you ask stretching your hand towards him. He gladly takes your hand and kiss it.

“It would be my greatest pleasure to dance with such beautiful princess.” The both of you dance through the music. Both lost in each other as you barely notice everyone enter the hall and watch you two dance. As the song finishes, the lights turn dim. You tiptoed and cover his eyes. Anna enters holding a cake. When everything is settled, you slowly remove your hands as everyone sings happy birthday. He makes a wish and blow the candles. He looks at you, happiness can be seen in his eyes. He hugs you tight.

“Thank you. You know you don't have to go around tiring yourself out making this. Having you with me is more than enough.” You hug him back, looking up at him.

“I know but I want to. Besides, this is the first time we celebrate your birthday like this after you revealed your real birthday. Everyone was so excited.” He didn't respond. He just smiles at you and kiss you sweetly. Out of all the birthdays he celebrated, this is the first time he celebrates it with other people. it's usually just the two od you. His birthday is a secret only the two of you knows but after some time, he seems to warm up and feel comfortable to particular people that's why he decided to reveal his birthday to them earlier this year. All of those people are here today. Thanks to them, this surprise is possible. Although its not the time for you to be relieve yet. You still got one more surprise for him which you plan to give at home when you're alone. You are nervous as you don't know hot to tell him that you went to the doctor yesterday and got some good news. Putting your worries aside, you get another plate full of food. When you reach your table, you immediately munch on them. Lucien noticed that you are eating fast.

“Slow down, you can take your time eating.” He said gently holding your hand. You chew on the food and he wipe off your mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah boss slow down. That's your second plate already.” Minor said amazed at how much you've eaten.

“You’ll get fat if you continue eating a lot.” Kiki teases you as you have always been conscious about your weight. You glare at her as your mouth is full and Lucien could only laugh.

‘Oh I remember, I was also like that when I was pregnant with my first child.” The head of the orphanage said, looking like she is reminiscing the old times. The moment she said the word pregnant, you started choking on your food and had both Kiki and Minor spitting their drinks.

“W-what?” Anna asks, her eyes wide.

“It’s true. I eat more than what I used to when I was pregnant. Wait, are you pregnant?” the woman asks you curiously. You are still coughing as Lucien gently pats your back and offer you a glass of water. You gulp it down and heave a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” Lucien asks you worried and rubs your back in a soothing way. You nod your head in response. The moment you look up, you see everyone looking at you.

“Uhhhh….” You fidget with your fingers.

“Now that you mention it. She does eat more than usual. And on top of that, she eats certain types of food.” Anna interrupts. The rest in the table are listening carefully.

“Yeah she also said she's not feeling well these past few days.” Minor said, adding fuel to the fire.

“She even crave for strawberries yesterday.” Willow who has been silent the whole time spoke.

“And lastly, you gained weight!” Kiki said dramatically earning a nod from your other colleagues.

“So is it true?” the head asks. You're now more nervous than ever. Everyone is looking at you waiting for answer. Hearing your colleagues speak, Lucien also remembers a time when you cry over a cartoon which has a happy ending. It's a happy ending and a cartoon so you crying startle him. You look at the man beside you. He answers you with a smile. Your heart calms down a little. Gathering up the courage, you nod your head not breaking eye contact with him.

“I went to the doctor yesterday and I found out I'm pregnant.” Lucien’s smile grow wide as you hear cheering and congratulations in the background. He hugs you tight.

“Sorry I didn't tell you yesterday. It was suppose to be a small surprise for later when we get home but I guess the cat's out of the bag.” You said scooting closer to him. He holds you tighter, caressing your hari.

“Its okay. I still got surprised anyway.” He pulls away from the hug and placed a hand on your still flat stomach. He gently rubs it, eyes shining the brightest that you've ever seen. Slowly, he leans down and plant a soft peck in it. Your heart melts at the sight of him. When he rises his head, he rests his forehead on yours.

“Thank you for giving me the best gift.” You are left speechless. The two of you stayed like that without a care in the world. The celebration in your surroundings has been long forgotten. It's like there's just the two of you in that moment. The nervousness you felt earlier is now replaced by certainty. The rest of the day was spend partying. Through the whole day up until evening, Lucien never leave your side. He holds you close and extra careful as if he's holding the most fragile thing in the world. If it's him, then you're sure. Having a little angel that you both created would be a wonderful experience.

[efrmellifer]

Devoir

Etien’s entire face screwed up as the linkpearl’s distinctive chime greeted her ear.

“Do you remember when I used to complain about sleeping in sand? I’d sleep in sand if it meant I got to lie down and stay down. Hmm, Aymeric? Aymeric?” She pawed at the empty spot of mattress next to her. “Oh for the love of the Fury.”

At last, she remembered what had woken her, and opened the line. “Yes?” She was silent, eyes bouncing between spots on the wall across from her as she listened to the voice on the other end.

“Yes. I’ll be there.” The line closed, and Etien sighed. “Well, I knew it was going to end eventually.”

She rose from bed then, coming first to Landric’s cradle, cooing to him as she laid a hand on his stomach. “Oh, little man, you’ve been so quiet. Picking up Estinien’s stoicism already, is that it?”

Bundling him against her chest in one arm, she laid the other hand on Betula. “Betula,” she sang. When the bright green eyes popped open, Etien smiled. “Good morning, sweet pea.”

It was easier now, to trundle the twins up and into her arms to begin the morning’s tasks. First, their change, then cooking—to start with, food for herself, then a lunch for Aymeric.

It was the best way to ensure he ate, stopping by the Congregation and handing the box over.

Plus, the cooking gave her a chance to slot one or the other of the children into a sling across her body and let them nurse.

It usually worked pretty well, that one of them was full and asleep again by the time she was changing between what she was cooking, so she just eased them out and into a little crib in the corner, then got the other to eat while she kept at it on the stove.

The whole process for carrying them with her outside the home was more ridiculous-looking, even when it made just as much sense.

They slept side by side against her chest in a specially-designed carrier, draped under a fur-lined cloak so she could keep them and herself warm when she entered the chilly air of Ishgard.

She almost wished she'd been raising them in the Black Shroud, but then that would cause her to have dark, depressing wonderings about a life that could have been.

So no. She preferred keeping Betula and Landric draped in furs to stay warm, because that meant she was here, safe and warm and happy. And so, so loved.

She walked slowly, so as not to jostle and wake the babies, and made her way down the steps to Foundation that were just outside the manor’s door. Of course, it was a longer walk through the Brume, then, but she hoped the rhythm of her footsteps and her low hum kept her children soothed as she traversed the stones of their home.

“You’re going to visit your Da,” she whispered, “won’t that be fun?”

Etien was such a fixture in the Congregation now (and really, hadn’t she been for four years?) that she was waved directly to the door that led to Aymeric’s office, and let in right away, barring anything especially severe going on within beforehand.

So when the door clicked shut behind her, Aymeric looked up, and seeing that she wasn’t in distress, turned back to his work for a moment to complete his thought.

“Ah, the whole family came along,” he noted when he saw the thick drape over Etien.

“Well, not quite. In a funny twist, I was about to tell you—I think we’re going to need Estinien. Which means, Tataru’s been scouring for him extra-hard, and despite my not saying a peep about where he’s been, she’s about to hit Ishgardian permafrost pay-dirt.”

Aymeric rested his chin on his hand, chuckling. “After he tried so hard.”

“They found him once, they threatened that they would do it again. The Scions are people of their word, unfortunately.”

“Their? Not our?”

Etien shrugged, unbuttoning the shoulder of the cloak, but letting it hang on her still. “Am I a Scion?”

“You look like today you’re playing the role of Culinarian,” Aymeric remarked, gesturing to the parcel in her hand, its binding string clutched tight in her middle finger.

“Oh, this? I wanted to make sure you ate. In any event, the Scions are coming for hide and hair of the Azure Dragoon Emeritus, and I’m… needed at the Rising Stones. So I’m taking Betula and Landric to Toto and the Aldynns’ for the day. I figure you can pick them up tonight, if I’m not back?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

She smiled, laying down the box, then left Aymeric’s office.

It was with a heart just slightly heavy that Etien handed the infants over, but the care with which Toto took them eased the burden slightly.

Etien had known this day was coming, but now that it was here… she was just glad that she had family that would be able to help her with it. Maybe the yoke was only on her shoulders, but at least someone else was able to man the plow, metaphorically speaking.

She kissed Betula’s forehead, then Landric’s. “Be good for Aunt Toto,” she told them, “and then for your Da.” She looked up from them then. “Thank you, Toto. I… wish it wasn’t like this.”

They shared a look, and then Etien left, the points of her teeth sinking into her lip so she didn’t start crying.

She stood in front of the mirror as she dressed, watching as if it were someone else pulling up her tights and fastening the garters—Estinien had never commented, but look, now she wore garters—doing up the busks on her corset, buckling her belt. She smiled as she settled the crown of preserved flowers on her head—magicked to give her additional protection—and it was only halfway forced. She was happy to be wearing her battle gear again, and she had always felt a sense of pride in what she had long been calling “her colors.” The weren’t the Ishgardian colors of which Nanamo had spoken, which had been a Fortemps knight’s armor. They weren’t an Adder uniform, a Temple Knight’s regalia. They were the clothing of Etien Mellifer, Hydaelyn’s Champion and Scion of the Seventh Dawn. She guessed.

Warrior of Light, Bringer of Darkness. Amatrix et Bellatrix.

She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back as she settled her new bow between them.

It was a quick journey by aether between Ishgard and the Ala Mhigan Quarter, and it hadn’t left her enough time to reason when she entered the Alliance Meeting that it was, in fact, the Alliance. All of them.

“G’raha, sit across from the Lord Commander, would you?” Thancred asked.

Etien snorted, sitting to G’raha’s right, scooting in close to the table and then sighing when she realized that no matter how far she stretched her legs under it, the toe of her boot wouldn’t come into contact with Aymeric’s sabatons.

She already knew that, but the disappointment washed over her anew every time she tried.

Instead, she crossed her arms and sat back, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Not this time, either?” he asked her.

“Never,” she replied, deflating. “But that’s okay, I can always be the one to bring the tea around.” She winked, and Y’shtola snapped to get her attention.

With a huff, she leaned on the table, looking toward Urianger.

Aymeric hung around afterward, close to but not quite shadowing Etien while she talked to the other Scions.

Their greetings to her were remarkably understated, considering it had been months since they’d last seen her, but he tried not to be offended on her behalf. She was all business, stood with a hip cocked as they talked about what to do next, now that Lunar Bahamut had wreaked havoc in Ala Mhigo and now was doing much the same with the dragons of Meracydia.

He tipped his head in curiosity as Etien leaned into the gesture of answering her linkpearl, stepping back to get out of her way as she walked toward him, until she reached out with her free hand and took hold of his coat, holding him still.

He laid an arm around her back as she rested against him racked with… snickering? She covered her mouth as the corners of her eyes crinkled, and then she sobered up, letting go of Aymeric’s coat and responding to Tataru.

“Yes, if you just caught wind of him headed that way, then we’ll have to get there before he can set off again. Thank you for the update.”

Aymeric’s eyebrows rose as he finally met Etien’s eyes.

Estinien, she mouthed, “they’ve found him, apparently. Heading to Ishgard.”

“Wasn’t he just—?”

She shushed him. “We know that.”

They turned toward each other to hide the laughter that pealed through them.

Alphinaud came to their sides just as they’d collected themselves again, instructing Etien to tell Tataru to send the Bonanza to Ishgard, in case they had to chase down Estinien.

Silly little Scions. If only they knew how to properly convince him.

Then again, they couldn’t ask so nicely as she could, could they?

Still, Alphinaud was already walking off, ready to go, so Etien sighed. She turned back to Aymeric. “I go in search of our third half. I imagine I’ll beat you to Ishgard, and be run off my feet, so…” She looked around, her ears tipping back to hear if anyone important was behind her before she stepped closer to Aymeric. Her tail flicked back and forth once, twice, before she pounced to press a kiss to his lips, taking him utterly by surprise. “I’ll see you later, darling,” she said when her heels had hit the stones again.

And with the glimmer of aether as she finished her incantation, she was gone.

_

Etien shook her head as she entered the Congregation again.

“Hello, Lucia,” she said said with a tired exhale. “Have you seen Estinien?”

“We were not aware he had returned to Ishgard,” she replied. “But as I expect you remember, he is wont to come and go as he pleases.”

“Oh, none know it better than I, save one,” Etien remarked, already heading back to the door. “Thank you anyroad.”

That left the others a little time to find him while she went to the airship landing, at least.

So she was surprised to find them all waiting there already.

“Did you find him?”

Alisaie was the first to admit that none of them had had any luck.

When G’raha commented that he expected more excitement for the return of the Azure Dragoon, Etien bit her lip to stay silent.

Eventually she got out a noncommittal “these are odd times.”

The sound of footsteps, marked with a familiar jingle of armor saved her from having to elaborate, so she looked up, already smiling up at him.

She was so happy to see him. Even if it hadn’t been as long for her as it was others.

Her eyes were slowly widening as some mix of the Coerthan air and shock froze her in place as she watched him attempt to ruffle Alisaie’s hair, telling her that it had been too long… Alphinaud.

Oh no.

She didn’t even have time to form her rebuttal to the idea that she had been teaching “Alphinaud” to be strong and silent, she was so busy trying to make sure she would stay rooted to her spot when Alisaie went more explosive than Magitek cannons.

Etien’s eyes were starting to freeze around the edges from how wide open they were.

But she blinked and gave a sheepish smile when Estinien turned to her, asking pointedly for an explanation.

Alisaie stepped closer, watching Etien as she gazed at Estinien and Alphinaud talking.

“Maybe he sees them—Estinien and Arenvald—as the brothers he never had,” Etien replied to Alisaie’s story about how Alphinaud refused to make friends with other boys.

“It hasn’t been easy being his sister,” Alisaie huffed.

Etien hummed. “Hmm. Aye, but it’s never easy being a sibling, is it?”

_

On the airship to Azys Lla, they stayed in small clusters; Alphinaud, Alisaie, and G’raha all stood together toward the back, while Etien and Estinien stood side by side nearer to the bow, the wind lifting the ends of their hair as they went.

“Are they...easy to tell apart?” Estinien whispered, leaning down to speak directly into Etien’s swiveling ear, so he could be heard over the wind.

She laughed aloud then, the sound carrying all the way to the stern.

“I think they are, but I’ve spent far more time with them. With bothof them. If nothing else, you have their earrings to go by. Or weapons, on the battlefield. If the Leveilleur you’re looking at has a sword, it’s Alisaie. And she’ll use it on you if you don’t get it right.”

Estinien chuckled. “I shall defer to your extensive experience and will not try it for myself.”

Azys Lla wasn’t far off now, so they grew somber again, preparing for what they had to do there.

_

It would be hard for Etien’s heart to soften further toward the First Brood orEstinien, but when he said that he felt at least somewhat responsible for Tiamat’s welfare, seeing as Nidhogg was part of him… she did feel something shift for the gentler.

She wished he’d done the same as he talked to her, but that just wouldn’t be Estinien, would it?

No matter. They learned of the Bahamut that came before his calamitous return, and Tiamat wasn’t tempered anymore.

There was—and Etien figured that she shouldn’t have been surprised, at this stage in the game—more to be done. More for her to do.

To Paglth’an they went, by way of Ul’dah.

_

When Aymeric had heard that the Scion contingent had indeed tracked down Estinien, and that they had gone from Azys Lla to Ul’dah, he wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. But he knew what that meant. Worse, he was moments from heading the same way himself.

He too had offered his apologies to Toto, and told his children to be good for their aunt.

But now, it was time to clear a path for the Warrior of Light and her helpers.

He offered his prayers to Halone for guidance, and set out, Lucia at his side.

_

There was hardly time to sight-see, when she was fighting Magitekand Meracydian dragons, but Etien remembered this had once been home to a dear friend of hers. Like the verdant beauty of Alder Springs did to Etien, these fields may have evoked a heart-aching nostalgia. So she tried to tread lightly as she ran headlong into fulfilling her duty. Stopping the havoc being wreaked on these lands, eliminating the threat of Lunar Bahamut.

When she thought about it, there was a poetic tragedy to the places he had laid waste to so far, to the sorrow it must have left, but she put it out of her mind. That wasn’t her song to sing.

She winced, her attempts to walk softly abated without her say-so when she’d skidded to a stop in shock.

She hadn’t expected to see himhere. But she was a woman now, with obligations past just seeingthe morrow, and at least one of the three of them needed to make it out of there. So she simply gasped, rather than calling out.

It was safer that way.

Maybe Aymeric wouldn’t even know she was here.

But that wasn’t to be. They simply knew these things, it seemed. It had been the same in Ghimlyt. They had found each other then, too.

He stayed close, not so close that he would get in Etien’s way (she did have such an odd dance with her bow, when she was really lost to it), but near enough to her that he had managed to keep her safe, to distract the imperial soldier that had been bearing down on her too fast for her to run from.

And when they, and Estinien, and their comrades had cleared the area, Aymeric turned to tend to the wounded on the edges of the pathway.

“Go!” He’d called to Etien, seeing her pause out of the corner of his eye. “I will see them to safety. You’re needed elsewhere.”

He heard her come to her knees next to him more than he saw it, though he felt it just as quickly, when her hand came to rest on his arm.

“If anything happens to you or Estinien,” she began, swallowing. He could see her heart thudding just under her necklace, the pendants leaping with every beat. “If anything happens, Fandaniel won’t need to wait for Zenos to kill him.”

She stood up, her boots crunching in the sand and shrapnel around them, and started running after Thancred.

Ever dutiful, even when her body cried out otherwise. He sighed, hoisting the injured soldier up, arm over his shoulders.

It wasn’t him, him or Estinien, that she needed to worry about. He watched her, bright blue and bronze in the twilight, growing smaller the further she got away from him.

Growing smaller as she went to where was needed… away from where he needed her.