#what bits of herself did Wake leave behind in Harrow?

[mayasaura]

HANG ON. WAKE WAS SNEAKING AROUND INSIDE HARROW'S HEAD FOR NINE FUCKING MONTHS.

Throw another one into the mix permeating Harrow's soul lads. This little witch can fit so many subliminal influences into her

[deermouth]

1. Is it winter again, is it cold again, didn't Frank just slip on the ice, didn't he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted didn't the night end, didn't the melting ice flood the narrow gutters wasn't my body rescued, wasn't it safe didn't the scar form, invisible above the injury terror and cold, didn't they just end, wasn't the back garden harrowed and planted— I remember how the earth felt, red and dense, in stiff rows, weren't the seeds planted, didn't vines climb the south wall I can't hear your voice for the wind's cries, whistling over the bare ground I no longer care what sound it makes when was I silenced, when did it first seem pointless to describe that sound what it sounds like can't change what it is— didn't the night end, wasn't the earth safe when it was planted didn't we plant the seeds, weren't we necessary to the earth, the vines, were they harvested? 2. Summer after summer has ended, balm after violence: it does me no good to be good to me now; violence has changed me. Daybreak. The low hills shine ochre and fire, even the fields shine. I know what I see; sun that could be the August sun, returning everything that was taken away— You hear this voice? This is my mind’s voice; you can’t touch my body now. It has changed once, it has hardened, don’t ask it to respond again. A day like a day in summer. Exceptionally still. The long shadows of the maples nearly mauve on the gravel paths. And in the evening, warmth. Night like a night in summer. It does me no good; violence has changed me. My body has grown cold like the stripped fields; now there is only my mind, cautious and wary, with the sense it is being tested. Once more, the sun rises as it rose in summer; bounty, balm after violence. Balm after the leaves have changed, after the fields have been harvested and turned. Tell me this is the future, I won’t believe you. Tell me I’m living, I won’t believe you. 3. Snow had fallen. I remember music from an open window. Come to me, said the world. This is not to say it spoke in exact sentences but that I perceived beauty in this manner. Sunrise. A film of moisture on each living thing. Pools of cold light formed in the gutters. I stood at the doorway, ridiculous as it now seems. What others found in art, I found in nature. What others found in human love, I found in nature. Very simple. But there was no voice there. Winter was over. In the thawed dirt, bits of green were showing. Come to me, said the world. I was standing in my wool coat at a kind of bright portal— I can finally say long ago; it gives me considerable pleasure. Beauty the healer, the teacher— death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life. 4. The light has changed; middle C is tuned darker now. And the songs of morning sound over-rehearsed. This is the light of autumn, not the light of spring. The light of autumn: you will not be spared. The songs have changed; the unspeakable has entered them. This is the light of autumn, not the light that says I am reborn. Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered. This is the present, an allegory of waste. So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate: the ideal burns in you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart. The songs have changed, but really they are still quite beautiful. They have been concentrated in a smaller space, the space of the mind. They are dark, now, with desolation and anguish. And yet the notes recur. They hover oddly in anticipation of silence. The ear gets used to them. The eye gets used to disappearances. You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared. A wind has come and gone, taking apart the mind; it has left in its wake a strange lucidity. How privileged you are, to be passionately clinging to what you love; the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you. Maestoso, doloroso: This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. Surely it is a privilege to approach the end still believing in something. 5. It is true there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use. I am at work, though I am silent. The bland misery of the world bounds us on either side, an alley lined with trees; we are companions here, not speaking, each with his own thoughts; behind the trees, iron gates of the private houses, the shuttered rooms somehow deserted, abandoned, as though it were the artist’s duty to create hope, but out of what? what? the word itself false, a device to refute perception— At the intersection, ornamental lights of the season. I was young here. Riding the subway with my small book as though to defend myself against the same world: you are not alone, the poem said, in the dark tunnel. 6. The brightness of the day becomes the brightness of the night; the fire becomes the mirror. My friend the earth is bitter; I think sunlight has failed her. Bitter or weary, it is hard to say. Between herself and the sun, something has ended. She wants, now, to be left alone; I think we must give up turning to her for affirmation. Above the fields, above the roofs of the village houses, the brilliance that made all life possible becomes the cold stars. Lie still and watch: they give nothing but ask nothing. From within the earth’s bitter disgrace, coldness and barrenness my friend the moon rises: she is beautiful tonight, but when is she not beautiful?

October

Louise Glück

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Aftermath (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. The worst as happened, your dead. What have you left behind?

Warnings: ANGST! depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing, discrimination towards addicts, mentions of drug abuse, javi and steve have terrible coping mechanisms.

Word count: 2k (short and sweet)

A/n: So I felt bad about how I left it last chapter, maybe this will heal it? Maybe it will make it worse. Either way, enjoy! 

Part 1 // Part 2 

[1 MONTH AFTER]

 The following weeks after your death was harrowing for everyone involved. Connie was beside herself and flew herself home for a week as she couldn’t stand seeing your empty apartment every day. Without his wife, Steve was falling apart at the seams. He was angrier, drinking more and his relationship with Javier was hanging on threads. Even when Connie returned he was unhinged. Javier was a mess, more than he would openly admit, it was obvious to everyone around him. He tried to find solace in alcohol and women but it didn’t work. Guilt surrounded him like a bad smell that he couldn’t shake. Together, Javi and Steve were reckless and ruthless.

The question of who killed you was still a mystery. The getaway vehicle had been found in Bogata a few days after the shooting, ablaze. Javi and Steve had waited for somebody to claim the killing but no one ever did. Cali and Escobar, even Los Pepes never said a word. Javier had tried to find your CI but they’d disappeared too. 

As with any death of an agent in the field, the DEA intended to investigate your death. Today was the day that Javier was to hear the verdict. He was anxious, he knew they needed help if they were ever going to catch your killer and this could be the final push needed to topple Escobar’s power. 

Alone, Javier drove to the embassy dressed in a nice suit and tie. He was hopeful, almost excited. If this meeting went the way he was expecting you would get the vengeance you deserved and this hell could be over. 

He entered the meeting room confidently but almost immediately stumbled when only one man stood in the room. Ambassador Crosby stood at the top of the large table, he greeted Javier politely when he arrived and offered him a chair opposite. Confused, Javier sat down.

“I’m going to cut the crap with you, Peña. We are not investigating Agent L/n’s death,” The Ambassador said bluntly. Javier’s stomach twisted, “I’ve been talking with everybody that needs to be involved and we all agree. She admitted her drug use to me, her death was entirely so a result of her ‘extracurricular activities’. I see no reason to use any more of the agency's funds on a rookie who went off the rails,” The Ambassador lit a cigarette nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just dealt Javier a nearly fatal blow. Javier had never imagined that to even be a possibility. He was in shock.

“You’re joking,” Javier deadpanned. 

“I understand you’re upset, Peña, I do. She was a sweet girl, and from what I gather from Agent Murphy’s report you two were very close, but I see no reason to investigate further. She wasn’t a qualified agent we hold no loyalty to our usual promises,” 

“She deserves-,” Javier started, rage quickly boiling inside him.

“She doesn’t deserve anything,” He interrupted Javier sharply, “She was an addict. You should count yourself lucky I don’t have you fired. You knew she was breaking her contract and you said nothing,” 

“She was doing her job. She was a great agent and this never should have fucking happened. She deserves everything Camarera got and more!” Javier exclaimed. 

“You’re right it shouldn’t have happened. You were her mentor, you were supposed to be protecting her from exactly that kind of shit. She was never meant to leave your fucking side, what in the hell possessed you to think she could have a CI?” 

“She was a good agent,” Javier repeated, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

“She was a kid,” The ambassador corrected him. Javier hung his head in defeat, “Get out, expect a call from DC too,” 

As if this waking nightmare you had left behind you could get any worse, now this. It was another blow to Javier's ego that he did not need. Without help from the agency, there would be no way to investigate your death and no way for any substantial closure for Javier or Steve. You would become just another name on the list of unfortunate souls lost to this drug war. They had dismissed you as if you were nobody. They had cleaned their hands of your blood without a second thought. That was not a luxury that Javier had. 

Javier was exhausted. The news felt like the final blow that had finally landed him on his ass. But he knew had one last thing to do before he could sleep, he had to tell Steve the news. Javier let himself into Connie and Steve’s apartment, the two were eating dinner together quietly. Without a word, he sat down at the table, and Connie passed the man a beer, which he took and swallowed down gladly.

“So? What did they say?” Steve asked, his mouth full of food.

“They said they wouldn’t investigate further because of everything that she was doing,” He replied after a moment 

“Shit,” Connie sighed, taking a big sip of wine. Steve looked between his wife and his friend, put his cutlery down and frowned.

“What do you mean everything she was doing?” Steve asked, “She was working with us, she wasn’t doing anything wrong,”

“She was doing coke, a lot of it,” Javier said bluntly, finding no other way to soften what had happened, “Guess she got it from her CI, I don’t know but she tried to fix it with the ambassador before she died and now they won’t investigate,”

“What?” Steve laughed in disbelief. Javier’s frown didn’t break, He turned to his wife expecting her to be just as shocked. She wasn’t at all. She knew, “How come you know about this and I don’t?” Steve exclaimed.

“She showed up on the street after Javi caught her at the embassy and I took care of her, made sure she was okay. She told me everything,” Connie explained.

“At the embassy?” Steve repeated, not believing a word he was hearing. He knew something was up with you but he hadn’t imagined it could be that bad, “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought you knew and just didn’t want to talk about it!” Connie exclaimed, “I thought you guys would have taken a bit more care with your teammate!”

“Hey don’t put it back at me!” Javi scowled at the woman.

“That's why you were so mad that day? Because you caught her with cocaine?” Steve asked, his volume increasing with each question, “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I didn’t think it was any of your business,”

“Any of my- You’re fucking unbelievable Javi,” Steve scoffed, “Been here how long and you still don’t trust me?”

“I trusted her enough to sort it out herself. You would have freaked her out!” Javier said honestly.

“Look at all the good that did, huh? You got her killed! May as well have shot her yourself!” The words hit Javier like a slap in the face. Shocked, Javi couldn’t speak.

“Steve!” Connie exclaimed.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Steve spat, stepping up to Javi. Javi quickly backed off, glaring at his partner and leaving, slamming the door for good measure.

In the hallway, Steve and Connie’s argument could still be heard. Javier’s anger was stopped by the sight of your door across the hallway. Someone else had moved in already. The door had been repainted, the chipped blue paint replaced with a glossy green, the number had been straightened and the smiley face sticker you put on had been peeled off. The world was moving on. You were just a passing character, never meant to stay long. You would have left eventually even if you hadn’t died. You were never meant to be permanent. Javi hoped the pain you had left him would be just as temporary but it was likely scars would remain.

He couldn’t repaint over memories of you. The scuff marks on his dashboard from your shoes would remain. The chipped mug you had claimed as yours would still sit on his draining board. Shaky polaroid photos he had kept from blurry nights in bars and a cartoon you had drawn of him and Steve on the back of an invoice all sat in the drawer of his nightstand. Those things would last. Part of him wanted to get rid of it all, burn it to remove you entirely from his life and pretend like it was all some horrible, strange dream. But he wouldn’t. You may have been temporary but your impact on him was permanent.

--

The next day Javier kept well away from Steve. He knew he would still be resentful, rightfully so, and he knew him well enough to know to just give him some space. They could get on with things separately until it blew over.

The news that the DEA would not be making a full investigation into your death had spread quickly and calmed tensions around the compound and in the embassy immensely. The Columbians didn’t want more American’s down here if it could be helped, everyone remembered the brutality of Camerana’s investigation and if a repetition of such events could be avoided it was a win for everyone.

Midday came and Javi took a break from hunting through seemingly endless transcriptions of taped conversations to sit outside in the sun. Guilt was piling up again with Steve against him too, he only felt worse. He couldn’t concentrate. Between his thoughts and the constant interruption of people trying to be sympathetic, Javi had had enough. He wanted to be alone.  A few minutes in the sunshine with a cigarette and birdsong would clear his head and he could be useful again.

Javier sat in the courtyard, looking out onto the training grounds and watched the recruits struggle under their training officers barking orders. He took off his jacket, letting his skin take in the early summer rays. On the way to being relaxed, Javier felt content. He didn’t think of you or Steve or anything other than the way the rays heated his skin and how the grass felt under his palm.

“Mind if I join?” Steve interrupted Javier’s moment. He too needed a quiet moment and while he was not completely over his friend’s concealment of the truth he didn’t want to struggle through the new emotions without him. Javier shrugged and moved his jacket to let his friend sit next to him. “Nice day,” He commented, not sure what to say. They hadn’t spoken at all since last night, avoiding each other like the plague. Javi grunted in response, taking a drag of his cigarette again.

The tension between the two men settled, they needed each other to get through this, even if they wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you man,” Javier finally spoke, breaking the silence. Steve was relieved he didn’t have to be the one to apologise first.

“It all happened kind of fast, I get it,” Steve replied, “She always was so efficient with things,” He chuckled. It was dark but the joke broke Javier’s frown.

“Bet Carrillo’s glad he doesn’t have her nagging at him all the time now,” Javi added. Steve chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“It’s going to be nice without their constant bitchin’,'' Steve smiled, he paused for a moment. “It’s gonna be quiet,” he added sadly.

The two fell silent again. He was right, everything was going to be quieter without you. Whether it was shouting at Carrillo for being an asshole, or singing along to the radio loudly while you're full of adrenaline after a chase, or even just your constant tapping and fidgeting. Life was going to be quieter without you.

“Ey! Peña! Murphy! Vamos, we’re going!” Carrillo’s voice called them back to reality.

The war wasn’t stopping for anyone, your death was just one of the thousands that had already been claimed by it. They would miss you, but both men knew they couldn’t let your short time with them hold them back. They would always carry you with them and their final win, when Escobar was dead, would be yours too.

NEXT PART

--

did that make it worse? did that make it better? 

want to get tagged in the next part? let me know

tag list:  @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @this-cat-is-dea @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh​ @itsaisopodkillmepls​ @urbankaite2​ @whataloadofmalarkey​ @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus​ @sara-alonso​ @lesbianlena​ @xiao-lusi​ @all-good-things-have-an-ending​ 

[ollie-ollie-oxenfreee]

then came the morning (aka: the post - canon cuddle fic)

The work in progress is finally done! I’ve been chipping away at it for the past couple weeks now, and it’s gone through many drafts / iterations, but I think I’m finally happy with it. :)

Title from an album by the Lone Bellow. 

The first time the two of them “shared a bed” was about as awkward as one might imagine. The initiating circumstances were hardly any better.

 The heating apparatus in their quarters had given out a week or so back in a spectacular fit of dust - laden wheezing. The engineering crew called in to inspect it informed them that it couldn’t be fixed until they could pick up the right parts at the nearest trading post (which was naturally thousands of klicks away on the ragged edge of nowhere). With the ambient heat from the nearby engine room seeping through the wall, the conditions were deemed “unpleasant but survivable.” They were issued two extra threadbare blankets and told in tersely formal military - speak to deal with it. 

 And they’d dealt with it really well for a while! They grit their teeth and carried on like a couple of champs: Harrow, having been thoroughly warned against using her magic too frequently, layering on spare cloaks and sweaters until she almost disappeared under a mountain of black fabric; Gideon curling up close to the engine room wall and wincing when the cold sent spiteful twinges shooting through her still-very-busted knee. 

 But then one night their grand flagship of the revolution chugged through a particularly empty sprawl of space and began to slow down. The heat from the engine room guttered like a candle flame. Frost spiderwebbed across the thin plex of their window. Harrow’s breath showed in thin wisps of vapor as she huffed, glaring down at the pages of her book like she wanted to reprimand the cold for daring to interrupt her studies. 

 Gideon had half a mind to encourage her to try (that glare could stop a full - fledged Lyctor in their tracks, who knew what other horrifying powers it possessed?), but thought better of it when she saw the genuine exhaustion in the other girl’s eyes.

 “You doing alright over there, my vulturine vicar?” she asked. “I know it takes some time to absorb all that good bone knowledge, but you haven’t turned a page in like half an hour.”

 The thunderous look on Harrow’s face darkened further as she set her book aside with an exasperated thump. “This is ridiculous. I studied in the depths of Drearburh for years without any issue, and yet here I am struggling to focus like a novice. It isn’t even that cold.” She bit her lip as a shiver ran through her at the words. 

 “Evidence seems to suggest otherwise, o mistress of melancholy. Do you want me to go ask that guy in the supply room for another blanket? He still owes me for his son’s fencing lesson.”

 Supply room guy didn’t really owe her anything, but she knew that mentioning it would make Harrow feel better. If she could believe that the nice things Gideon did for her were actually for Totally Self - Serving, Debt - Settling reasons, she could accept them without feeling guilty.

 (Guilt had haunted Harrow more than ever upon returning to her own body, making it hard to breathe on good days and leaving her shaking with sobs on bad ones. 

It was one of those fun little things they had in common.)

 From the way Harrow’s shoulders stiffened, though, it seemed that Gideon Nav’s patented Guilt Workaround wasn’t going to be as effective as usual. She shook her head - a stiff little gesture that made her earrings rattle - then sighed. 

 “No. Thank you, though, it’s kind of you to offer.” 

 The thank you was sincere, and that was admittedly pretty nice, but all the sincerity in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Harrow was still  very obviously shivering. She looked miserable beneath her usual mask of face paint and stoicism. The dark red bead of blood-sweat trailing down her temple indicated that she'd probably tried using some kind of homeostasis theorem, but it wasn't working well enough. 

 There had to be a solution to this problem somewhere. Harrow's stubborn pride meant that she wouldn't accept help outright - she would sooner set her books on fire than admit what she thought of as a weakness - but if Gideon could play it just right, maybe she wouldn't have to. It would need to be done carefully - too sappy and she'd be uncomfortable, too straightforward and she'd balk.  Casual, Gideon decided. Nice and casual was the way to go. It would just be a matter of execution.

 "Soooo," she said at length, leaning back against the wall all cool and easy. (She folded her arms up behind her head as an afterthought, appreciating the way it made her still-atrophied-but-getting-there muscles stand out through the thin fabric of her shirt. Confidence boosts were going to be scarce and sorely needed in the conversation to come - she’d take them where she could get them.)

 Naturally, Harrow did not appreciate the change in tack or the cool-and-easy-ness. She did, however, manage to muster up a look so steeped in wary disapproval that it cut through her earlier frustration like a hot knife through bone marrow. “So.”

 “You sure about that blanket? Because really, it would only take me a second -”

 “I’m sure. Thank you.”

 “Then, um, did you want to borrow mine?”

 Harrow blinked. “You need yours.”

 “Yeah, I know! I meant that we could maybe - share. Pool our resources.” She patted the edge of her bunk gamely, then instantly regretted it when Harrow’s eyes narrowed even further. 

 “You want us to sleep together?”

 "No? I mean, technically, but no. In the literal way. Not the other way.” Well maybe the other way sometime if you wanted to but that’s a whole other weird conversation that we probably shouldn't touch with a ten foot pole or we might explode. 

 "How exactly would that work?" The caution was still heavy in Harrow's voice, but some of the disapproval had ebbed away. 

 "I mean. We'd probably need to use my bed, since my sheets aren't covered in gross bone gobbets, but you could bring your blankets over and layer 'em over mine and then we'd have twice the blankets! And, you know, body heat. Which has its perks." Even Gideon's cool-and- easy-ness faltered at that, but she bravely soldiered on. "The point is, we'd both be warm."

 "And it won't - make things weird?" 

 "Nope! Not weird. All perfectly chill, my shivering scion."

 Harrow paused for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'll get ready for bed," she said at last, clipped and decisive. "And I'll think about it."

 "Take your time. I'll be here."

 Moments later, after the shivering scion had swept grandly out of the room, Gideon's Thinking Brain crashed unceremoniously into her Talking Brain. Things were not, in fact, going to be perfectly chill. There were going to be some logistical problems with this arrangement. Big logistical problems.

 Big logistical problems namely revolving around the mutually exclusive facts that the midnight monarch was not especially comfortable with touch, and Gideon Nav, space - bee slayer and resurrected badass, was a sleep cuddler.

 Or, well, she was in theory. She didn’t have much (any) “real world” experience to go on, but she’d woken up many, many times back on the Ninth with a bundle of blankets wrapped up in her arms or nestled close to her chest. The habit had never really embarrassed her back then - she actually kind of liked it. She felt warmer and less lonely when she had something to hold, even in the frigid emptiness of her cell. 

 But that was back then. Things were different in the here - and - now. Harrow was in the here - and - now, and Gideon would never forgive herself if she ruined things with Harrow right when their relationship was on the upswing. They were actually talking, slowly figuring out how to work together again. The furious, tearful intensity between them in the wake of their reunion had calmed and warmed into something almost like real friendship. 

 After all that had happened - everything that had gone wrong over the past year and a half - they’d found a fragile sort of peace. There was no way in Hell she was going to ruin that peace now.

 So while Harrow swished about getting ready for bed, Gideon leveled with herself and laid down some ground rules. Don’t make this weird, Nav. Make sure she’s comfortable, give her her space, and don’t think about cuddling with her. 

 ...even though it would probably be warmer, and she has shitty necro circulation and essentially no body mass so she needs all the warmth she can get, and she gets that kinda soft peaceful look on her face when - no, fuck, see? You’re doing it already. Even if she did like you like that, which she absolutely doesn’t because she’s got a good old-fashioned frostbite girl back home, that’s not what you’re here for. You’re her cav. Her sworn sword. You’re here to do your job and make sure she doesn’t get her thumbs bitten off again. That’s it.

 “You’re staring.”

 Harrow’s voice cut sharp as a bone shard through Gideon’s nervous thought - spiral. Having apparently completed her grim evening rituals, she’d settled lightly on the far edge of the to - be - shared bed, countless dark layers poofing out around her like the feathers of a posturing crow. Her face was flecked with dots of gray from scrubbing off her paint, and her short hair stuck up in messy licks of black fluff despite her increasingly irritated attempts to smooth it flat. 

 It shouldn’t have been endearing. It really, really shouldn’t have. 

 It was.

 Gideon was so screwed.

 “Shit,” she muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face to ground herself. She glanced over to meet Harrow’s eyes (and wow, was that a mistake, they were as mesmerizing a swirl of black and gold as ever), then forced a smile like she wasn’t screaming internally. “Sorry. Zoned out a little. You good to go?”

 The wryly exasperated glint in Harrow’s eyes made them glow even brighter in the dim light. “Yes, I’m ‘good to go,’ thank you. Are you, though? You look … troubled.” 

 Shit. Shit. Shit. Think nice, normal thoughts. Don’t let her know. She cannot know. 

 “I’m always good, my chthonic countess,” she lied, smooth as could be, throwing in a roguish wink for good measure. That was distractingly stupid enough, it was bound to work.  

 Harrow frowned. “Why are you blinking like that?”

 The roguish wink apparently had not worked. 

 “No reason! Just dust. In my eye. Lots of very rude dust landing right in my eye. Anyway. How are we doing this?”

 A flicker of genuine, anxious concern ghosted over Harrow’s face as her frown deepened. 

 “Gideon,” she began, in that slow, reluctant way of hers that heralded Incoming Indignity. “I know that you were the one to suggest this, but I want to impress upon you that if you aren’t - certain about it, there is another possible solution.”

 She cast around the room for a moment and reached for a massive, dusty tome at the top of a nearby stack, flipping determinedly through the pages. “I've had the idea for some time, but I only just managed to convince our commanding officer that I could use theorems 'responsibly' without their constant supervision, so I haven't been able to test it until now. Small - scale thanergetic fission reactions produce sparks of flame that, if handled extremely carefully, could give off enough heat - "

 “Wait.” Gideon held up a hand, her own anxious brain jolting back online at the word flame. “Wait, wait, wait. Harrow. Seriously? The concern is sweet, don’t get me wrong, but your other solution is death - fire?”

 “I said that it was a possibility,” she snapped back, that old brittle defensiveness calcifying over the vulnerability in her voice. Her posture straightened with a great rustling of robes: shoulders back, chin high, eyes gleaming with disdainful pride as the bones scattered about their room twitched to life. Looking for all the world like she had when they were ten - twelve - fourteen - sixteen, bitter and vicious and spoiling for a fight. 

 She seemed to realize it right when Gideon did. Her eyes widened, then closed. The bowstring tension in her shoulders slowly ebbed away as her half - formed constructs clattered to the floor. “Sorry,” she said at last, her voice a threadbare murmur. “I’m sorry. That was - uncalled for.”

 “It’s a reflex. I get it.” And she did - she’d done the same thing countless times, had a hand on her sword and a barbed insult on her tongue without even thinking about it. 

 Another one of those fucked up things they had in common. 

 An uneasy silence settled between them, broken only by the rumbling hum of the engines, the thud of footsteps in the hall. 

 “I meant it, you know,” Harrow said, after a long moment. “About other options. It was a half - baked and immature attempt, but I wanted to give you an out if you were uncomfortable.”

 “Yeah, I know, my sepulchral sage. I appreciate it. Half - baked immaturity and all.” She bumped her shoulder gently against Harrow’s, then flopped back on the bunk to stare up at the low ceiling. “Are we, like, committing to honesty hour tonight? How deep into feelings do you want to get?”

 “As deep as is comfortable.”

 “That’s what she said.”

 “It’s a reasonable thing for her to say.”

 Another hush fell over them, marginally more comfortable than the last, as Gideon worried her lip between her teeth and counted the cracks in the ceiling above her. There were nine of them in total. Go fucking figure.

 A bony finger poked her in the side after a few cycles of counting. “Were you going to elaborate, or was that all just a set - up for one of your charming jokes?”

 “I can’t believe it took you eighteen years to finally admit that they’re charming, but no, that’s not why I said it. I’ll lay bare my tender squishy heart for you, penumbral lady. Because you asked so nicely.” 

  Because I think you might already have it. 

 No avoiding it now. Might as well bite the bullet and dive in. 

 “I was on board with the cuddle thing from the beginning, but I felt like you wouldn’t be, and I panicked. You probably already knew that because you’re way more creepily observant than you have any right to be, but there it is. Out in the open.” 

 She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could just run away and hide from the other girl’s piercing gaze. “I just don’t want to fuck things up with you, Harrow. I feel like we’ve got a kind of good thing going now. You haven’t called me a useless halfwit in forever, and I haven’t called you a heinous bitch in forever, and I haven’t wanted to. That’s unheard of for us. I don’t want it to go away.”

 Her voice cracked, and the most damning words burst forth like flowers through concrete: “I don’t want to give you a reason to shut me out again.”

 The memories of those nine months flashed in fragmented mosaic through her mind - the slick stone walls of the well, the freezing churn of the water, the burn in her muscles as she desperately thrashed up toward the surface and reached for someone who didn’t even know she was there. The gut - wrenching loneliness that defined her entire fucking life coalescing in that pit of brackish darkness. The chant rattling on loop in her mind as the water pulled her under: Harrow, what happened, what did you do, why the fuck did you leave me here, I had a purpose, I threw myself on that goddamned rail for a reason, was that not enough for you? 

 Was I not enough for you?

 A cool, fine - boned hand laced with hers and squeezed, just once. The memories blurred. 

 “Gideon,” the voice that had haunted her all that time said. “You know - you have to know that isn’t why I did it.”

 “Why did you, then?”

 A tiny hitch of breath. A soft, almost incredulous laugh. Then:

 “Because I loved you.”

 The words hung heavy in the frozen air. 

 “You - what?”

 “I loved you.” She said it so simply. Like it was something she’d come to terms with long ago. “I loved you beyond reason, and for once in my life I wanted to do right by you and keep you safe as you did me. The motivation doesn’t justify a moment of it, I won’t pretend it does, and I can’t even begin to erase the hurt it caused you. But I need you to understand that it was never because of something you did wrong. You are good, darling. Good to the core. You always have been.”

 Bright spots bloomed before Gideon’s eyes as her reeling mind fought to catch up. Three thoughts sprang unbidden to the forefront:

 Mmf.

 And: Darling?

 And:

“Loved. You said ‘loved.’ Why the past tense?”

 She sat there, staring blankly up at the ceiling, half - expecting a don’t be presumptuous, Griddle or something even remotely normal, at least. What she got instead was another laugh, halting and shaky and suddenly deeply bitter. The hand in hers went rigid and drew away. 

 “I came to my senses. I remembered the countless awful things I’ve done. Saw myself for the leech that I am. I’ve taken and taken and taken from you, over and over again, torn away at your life like a scavenger, I can’t steal anything more  - “

 “Who said anything about stealing?”

 For the first time since the grand awkward commencement of honesty hour Gideon felt a genuine smile bloom across her face. “Come on, Nonagesimus, give me some credit. You honestly think I would have stuck around this long if I didn’t know what I was giving you? If I wasn’t getting something out of it too?”

 “What could you possibly be getting out of it?”

 “You. I like you. Like, a lot. More than I ever thought I would. And I know the brain weasels are going to start yammering about how that’s impossible, and you don't deserve it, and we've still got a mountain of baggage left to work through, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I really mean it. Having you with me has made this whole shitty thing infinitely less shitty."

 With a surge of sudden bravery and dizzy emotion, she reached out to take Harrow's hand again and, giving her ample time to pull away, pressed a feather - light kiss to the back. “If you want me here too, sunshine - as your cav or your friend or something else - then I'm not going anywhere."

 Harrow closed her eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, and - smiled. A real one, slow and hesitantly sweet, lighting up her careworn face. "I need to think about it - we both should think about it. But I do want you here, in whatever way you want to be."

 "Yeah? Cool."

 "Cool."

 Silence settled upon them for the third time that night, but this time it was different. It was soft and tentative, fragile and new, like budding grave - flowers reaching for the sun. First flowers, the both of them, clawing up out of the grit and finding a way to bloom.

 "Should we go to sleep now?" Harrow asked at last, her rasping voice low and quiet. "It's getting late."

 "We probably should. Cam and Pal are gonna kill us if we're not up by 6:00 tomorrow. Are you still up for this, though? Like, the whole 'two girls, chilling in a military bunk, zero feet apart 'cause they're freezing and also maybe like each other' thing?"

 "Yes. On one condition."

 "Anything."

 "This might be difficult for you."

 "Seriously, Harrow, just tell me. Name it and it's done."

 "No sex jokes."

 She heaved a sigh, mock - exasperated and so stupidly fond. "As you wish, my dearest darling death omen. As you wish."

 It took a while to get comfortable - with Harrow's knobby elbows jabbing Gideon in the stomach, Gideon's clunky knee brace getting tangled in the sheets, the blankets collectively giving up and puddling on the floor at least ten times - but eventually, like everything else, they made it work. They fumbled through the sleep - cuddling confession with an admirable lack of panic on both sides, culminating in a firm agreement that they would let each other know the moment they were at all uncomfortable and an "I trust you" from Harrow so pure in its sincerity that it would be ringing through Gideon's mind for at least a myriad.

 Harrow was the first to fall asleep, curled up tight in a cocoon of black fabric, the dark crown of her head just barely brushing the sunburst scar on Gideon's chest. Her shallow breaths fell into an even, steady rhythm, interspersed with whistling snores that Gideon was definitely going to tease her about when her heart was less of a melted puddle of goo. 

 The minutes slipped by warm and slow as drops of honey as her own eyes grew heavier, fluttering closed. She gave her necromancer - her Lyctor - her beautiful baneful bone empress one last sleepy smile, and drifted off.

 (When Camilla went to shake her sparring partner awake the next morning, she found the two of them still sound asleep, wrapped up in each other's arms and looking more peaceful than she'd ever seen them. She huffed a laugh, muttered "finally," and let them be.)

[olliya]

Madasaku Valentine’s day Drabble

So, I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, but I was convinced by @victoriacapo to write something. The idea and entire credit for that little silliness goes to @victoriacapo

I hope you enjoy it! It literally took me 1,5h to write, so don’t expect a masterpiece but I hope it is sweet and fun, as it should be for this day.

                                                        ***

Sakura slipped out of the bed. One foot carefully on the carpet, then the other. Hopefully the stupid floor wouldn’t creak. It always did in the least opportune moments, that stupid, stupid floor! Sakura narrowed her eyes and sent the floor a cautionary look.

The floor behaved. Sakura tiptoed to the door, that also decided to cooperate today. With triumphant smile on her lips Sakura made her way to the kitchen. The most difficult part of the operation was a success – Madara didn’t wake up! From now on it will all be a piece of cake!

Humming to herself Sakura pulled out a pot and the ingredients for the pancakes. She wanted to make something special for the Valentine’s day breakfast, but on the other hand she knew that Madara wasn’t much into celebrating such ‘modern nonsenses’. So she should better prepare something that he simply likes, nothing novel and unknown. Let him make positive associations with the holiday so that maybe in couple of years he would be more on board with it.

Eggs, milk and flour were already in the pot. Just a bit of sugar, a bit of salt and she could start. But wait. If she now mixed it with the mixer, Madara would wake up for sure. The whisk also made such an unpleasant noise… Sakura chewed at her lip. Alright. She will leave mixing the pancakes for the very last minute. So what to do now? She took out the coffee cups, the plates and the cutlery. She recovered chocolate sauce from the hiding place at the back of the kitchen towel drawer, where she put it after she had bought it a week ago to prevent Madara from finding it prematurely.

Sakura looked around. Boiling water would also made noise… Not much more to do in the kitchen.

What else could she do that was quiet? Ach! The balloons! Inflating the balloons was a very quiet activity!

She desperately wanted at least some decorations and yesterday she found those really cute, heart-shaped ones. Not even that usual crimson into-your-face red, but such a nice, pastel powder pink. Unassuming and elegant. She really liked them and they looked like something that wouldn’t make Madara’s blood pressure to rise to 200.

Sakura sneaked into the bathroom. Actually, before she started with the balloons, why not make herself more presentable? She brushed her teeth and hair, washed her face with cold water to give it a fresher look. She looked into her makeup box and bit her lip. Just a little bit. Just that she feels more attractive. Blush on the cheeks and some mascara. He didn’t like when she put make-up but until now had never protested about mascara, so Sakura assumed he didn’t recognize it as make-up. And that new nighty that she bought for this occasion. Sakura smiled mischievously at the sensation of silky fabric sliding down. Who knew, maybe after the breakfast there would be some action?

All ready and prettied-up Sakura sat on the rug with two packages of the balloons on her lap. She took the first one out and started to blow. And blow. And blow. Oh my, that was going hard. Sakura stopped, pressing the balloon’s neck to keep the already forced-in air inside and took three deep breaths and directed the air into the balloon. It barely inflated, the shape of the heart wasn’t even really visible yet. Sakura sent the thing a murderous look. She would fill and she would have her decorations. With renewed resolve she blew again. Apparently overcoming some critical resistance point, the balloon’s rubber started to finally stretch into designed shape. Six harrowing exhales later the first heart was ready.

Sakura wiped the sweat from her forehead. Alright. She didn’t need to blow all 20. Four or five would suffice.

Knowing what awaits her, she hesitantly took the second one out. It didn’t go better. Actually, it went worse. In the middle of it, Sakura’s eyes started to water from that strange effort, and she was sure that her mascara got smeared. She had now probably black blotches both on her cheeks and under her eyebrows, oh great… Nevertheless, the second heart was ready and Sakura thought that it was almost worth the effort. Almost.

The third balloon was going well, she was slowly getting the knack of it (except that she would suffer form the shortness of breath for entire next week). She was halfway through and just making a small pause to stabilize her breathing, when she screwed up. Her legs fell asleep and she wanted to shift, and in the same time her hair fell into her eyes, and… And she forgot that she was holding the neck of a balloon that was already under pressure.

The noise that came out of it sounded like Naruto’s fart after three bowls of chili.

Panicked, Sakura grabbed the neck with both hands and stopped the escaping air. She froze and listened. Did Madara wake up? The sound was horrible. But only silence answered her and, calmed down, Sakura assumed her work.

She got the fourth one done and she was just binding it up considering if it was enough or if she would still do another one when the worse happened. The neck of the balloon was so slippery form sweat and saliva that it simply slipped form her fingers. Fully blown-up balloon tore out of her hands and flew up propelled by the air escaping from it with an awful, penetrant sound.

Sakura could only stare as it made a graceful curve just under the ceiling, turned around the lamp and landed in the bath tube. And think that this time the noise resembled a night-fart of Naruto. Night-farts, in contrast to the day-farts were unrestricted in their length, as an awake Naruto had some decency to at least try and restraint himself. Which he lacked during the sleep, as Sakura had learnt during many, much too many, missions spent in one tent.

Madara must have heard it.

As on cue, the steps sounded on the corridor. Sakura froze. Maybe he would go to the kitchen first? She needed just a minute to gather herself. 30 seconds would suffice.

No.

“Sakura?” Sounded the voice directly behind the bathroom door. “Are you there?”

If she didn’t answer, would he go to check the kitchen?

“Sakura?”

Sakura held her breath. Silent like a mouse. Silent as if she wasn’t even here. She heard him shuffling – he would leave. Situation saved!

And then, then, another shitty damn balloon decided to sabotage her plans. It burst. With a sound comparable to a medium-sized explosive tag it freaking burst! And she didn’t even do anything! She only leaned a bit against the wall, and it was between her and the wall, and… It burst.

“Sakura, what’s going on there!” Madara’s alarmed voice sounded in unison with a sharp tug at the door knob. “Are you alright??!”

The door was closed. She didn’t even remember closing it, but she must have had, on a reflex.

“Sakura!!! I’m coming in!!”

In retrospect she should have replied. That would have saved them the doors kicked out of the hinges and the broken-out lock. That managed also to break the window on its way out.

But she was too embarrassed. And then she thought she would combust from shame when he burst into the bathroom to see her plopped on the floor, her fancy nighty, smudged makeup and sad remains of the balloons around her.

Not how she imagined their first Valentine’s Day. Not the impression she wanted to make.

But then, after they cleaned up, removed the broken glass from the floor (and Sakura sneakily corrected her make-up), the pancakes turned really good. And so did the sex afterwards. Because for that part of Valentine’s Day traditions Madara didn’t need much convincing.

[twinkleton]

a broken promise - married!douxie x reader

Bring on the angstt! This fic was inspired by @alovesongshewrote​‘s imagine called Pick Who Dies, linked here. She’s such a lovely writer and part of the reason why I even starting writing fics to begin with! This fic is my interpretation of the final battle with the Arcane Order. It’s also an alternate end with my Married!Douxie, where him and the reader don’t get their happily ever after. Please enjoy!

tw:blood

tags: @clarencebells @purplesinnerw​

Bellroc sneaks up behind Douxie, the man being too focused on helping Y/N with Skrael to notice. They send a blazing fire towards Douxie, hitting him in the back and knocking him down. They take the advantage and grab him, kicking his leg in a weak spot so he can’t get up. 

“NO! LET GO OF HIM!” Y/N roars, taking her eye off Skrael, wondering what on Earth was taking Archie so long with finding the Trollhunters. Skrael takes notice of Y/N’s lack of attention towards them, and seizes the opportunity. They skulk behind her, taking their staff with two hands and aiming at her lower back.

Douxie notices what they’re doing a second too late.

“Y/N, LOOK OUT!!”

An immense amount of pain pierces through her as Skrael rams their staff through her abdomen. Y/N kneels to the floor, face contorted in horror as she looks down to witness the weapon be wrenched out of her. Her ears are ringing - unable to produce any sound as she collapses to the floor. 

Douxie can’t think. He can’t breathe. It feels as if his lungs were malfunctioning, no supply of air to be found. They’re still working, for if it weren’t for them he wouldn’t have been able to let out such a harrowing scream. His throat feels on fire and his wrists are definitely bruised from struggling, but it’s nothing compared to the agony in his heart. He’s desperate for any sign of life from his beloved, but she remains on the ground terrifyingly still.

“Y/N! Y/N! YOU’RE GONNA BE FINE! JUST ANSWER ME!”

Skrael’s relishing in the chaos, shamelessly cackling at the scene before him. Bellroc joins in too, their voices shifting in and out. Douxie is still fighting against them, trying to reach for his staff. 

“LET GO OF ME! Y/N! PLEASE!” 

Bellroc strikes him down with their left fist, cursing at him while they slam their foot onto his back. 

“Look at you, you’re as pathetic as an earthworm. Why don’t you shut up and we can watch her die together,” Bellroc sneers as they yank Douxie’s head up by the hair. A pool of blood is starting to surround the girl’s body. 

Y/N can hear faint calls of her name, but her mind refuses to respond. Her body is freezing, a clear warning sign of death looming over her. She almost wants to give in to it. To be free of all this pain. Yet, her eyes reluctantly open, and she sees Jim, Claire, Toby, and Archie hiding behind a wall. They’re waiting for an opening. It’s time to give it to them. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Douxie finally notices a small sign of hope. Y/N’s left hand raises off the ground. The two demigods cease their laughing. Their curiosity lets the witch try to get up, as she slowly picks up her head from the floor, the ends of her hair caked in blood. 

The hall is deathly silent, which is a good thing as Douxie would not had otherwise been able to hear his wife croak out, “I’m okay, Douxie. We said for forever remember?”

It’s debatable whether Douxie was laughing or crying. However, the real answer was that it was a bit of both.

“Yeah, we did love.”

Her hands begin to glow. She smiles warmly at him. Nine hundred years wasn’t enough. 

“Time to end this, darling.”

With every last bit of her strength, she twists behind herself, and blasts Skrael in the face with a blinding fire. They’re sent flying across the room. Gritting her teeth - she rolls back onto her stomach, pushing herself off the floor onto her knees. Bellroc attempts to kill Douxie, but is interrupted by a ray of Y/N’s magic, thrown to the opposite side of the room as well. Her final move is throwing up shields around the kids as they charge in. When she thinks she’s done enough, she topples to the floor once more. I’m so sorry, Douxie.

Douxie is torn, wanting so badly to sprint over to Y/N, pull her into his arms, and escape out of there. But, in order for all of this to be truly over, he has to help his friends. So, regretfully, he picks up his staff, turns towards them and joins the battle. 

Y/N’s blows to the demigods had weakened them to the point that they had become rag dolls to the heroes. Toby swung his Warhammer, colliding it into Skrael’s stomach, knocking the wind out of them. They stumbled back, only to be knocked down by a swift kick from Jim. He jumped on top of him, pummeling him with his fists before raising Excalibur high above them. 

Being too weak to move, Skrael uncharacteristically begins to panic. “No, no, we’re Gods, We’re supposed to bring this world back to order!”

“The world has no order, that’s what makes it so incredible. What it does need is peace. And it will achieve it, without you.”

Jim strikes his blade down, finally bringing the immortal to their end.

Bellroc witnesses their siblings end and is enraged. They no longer care for their mission and just want to see everyone burn. They lift their staff up high, creating an inferno storm above them. Luckily, before they can make use of it, Claire opens a portal right beneath them, and they fall into it. The storm evaporates. She opens the next portal high above them, the sorcerer plunging towards the ground. 

Once they hit the ground, Douxie draws up a sigil below them, a gravity spell that keeps Bellroc glued to the floor. They let out a maddened roar. 

“This is for Merlin,” Douxie vows, eyes glowing that familiar blue again. He rises up into the air, charging an attack. Then, he slams his staff down, a gust of magic slicing through the air and into Bellroc, sending them to their doom. Douxie descends back down, and they listen to the final member of Arcane Order’s pathetic wheezing.

They hear Bellroc’s final breath, and the group doesn’t know how to respond. However, Douxie wastes no time in rushing over to Y/N’s body. She had not moved a muscle since the last time he saw her and it horrified him. The puddle of blood had only grown wider, and her skin was paler than ever before. 

The rest of the group follows him, circling around Y/N while Douxie kneels down to pick her up. He brings her into his lap, pressing his head against her chest. He hears a single faint beat, and cries in relief. 

“Y/N, wake up. We did it,” his voice sounds cracked and hoarse, body shaking with overwhelming nerves. He caresses her face, wishing she would just open her eyes!

“Douxie...” Claire whispers, holding Jim’s hand firmly and willing herself not to cry yet, holding out hope for Y/N. The same can’t be said for Toby however, who’s letting his tears fall freely. 

Douxie’s breathing becomes erratic as he gently starts shaking her, “She said she was okay, she’s okay, she’s- oh God please, wake up!” He lays his forehead to hers, pleading for her. Then, he hears her voice, faint as a mouse, “I can’t, I can’t.” He snaps his head back up. Y/N’s eyes are half-lidded and unfocused. Eventually, she gazes towards Douxie, and he clutches her face, full of worry. She gives a weak half grin, not strong enough for anything more. Tears shed down the sides of her face. She doesn’t want to break his heart, but her time has been cut off. 

“I can’t, love. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you. So much.” Despite her best efforts, her eyes slowly shut, head relaxing in his hands as her soul leaves her body.

Somewhere out there, Nari feels an empty spot in the world once more. 

Archie cautiously walks towards her, jumping onto her chest to listen for a heartbeat. Nothing. He looks up at Douxie, reluctantly shaking his head, eyes glistening. “She’s...she’s gone.” He can’t bear to look at his old friend - lost in his own grief as well. 

“No, no she can’t be gone! She can’t!” Douxie squeezes her body, hot rivulets of tears spilling down his face, rocking back and forth. However, just like his Master, she turns to dust, leaving behind the ring her made her so long ago. 

Claire latches onto Jim, wrapping her arms around him, letting herself cry now having confirmation their friend is dead. The Trollhunter hugs her tightly, frustration and sorrow clouding his mind. Toby throws off his helmet in anger. None of this felt like a victory. 

Douxie sobs at the sight of the ring, grasping it in his hand and bringing it to his heart. She left him. He’s never going to wake up to her smile again, or hear her comforting words of wisdom again, or feel her soft hand against his cheek ever again. He’s spent the majority of his everlasting life with her. Continuing without her was never something he thought he’d ever have to do. 

“Doux...I’m so sorry,” Jim calls out to him. He empathizes with the wizard, knowing he’d feel the exact same if Claire was in Y/N’s place. 

Douxie doesn’t have the motivation to look up at them, still hopelessly bent over where she used to be. “I’ve lost her. She’s supposed to be here with me. I can’t-I can’t live without her!”

Archie makes the first move, rushing to Douxie so he can nuzzle his head against his. Douxie fervently embraces him, hugging him so tightly while he weeps. Claire joins them, followed by Jim, then Toby. They mourn the loss of their friend together. The weights on their chest slightly lift, healing each other. 

Y/N watches the scene, thankful that her husband has their friends to take care of him. Morgana lays a hand on her shoulder, telling her it’s time to go. It’s full circle as Morgana leads her to her new home, where this time, she’ll be waiting for him. 

[eventid1ngs]

[ F e v e r . ]

A Post-Calamity Zelink Oneshot

Rating: T

Word count: 2500

Zelda blew out a breath that puffed her cheeks. She felt flushed and uncomfortable, and frankly, quite over the whole situation if she was being honest with herself. It hadn’t taken her long to decide that the Eldin Region, in its entirety, was her least favorite amongst the whole kingdom. At least the Gerudo’s persistent hot weather was of a drier character; the climate closer to Death Mountain was dreadfully humid and the princess was not enjoying it at all.

Quickly, she changed out of her travelling clothes and into more comfortable clothing suitable for sleeping. She did not have the energy to walk to the bathhouses to change, and Link had gone not too long ago to bathe, so Zelda took the liberty to change within the current privacy of their room at the Foothill Stable Inn.

Afterwards she lay on her side of the bed (Following a week or two of debilitating nightmares, Link had agreed to sleep nearer to her, for both her protection and her comfort. She hadn’t had a nightmare since), focusing on doing as little as possible so as to avoid using the energy she felt she didn’t have due to the heat. Rather idly, she scrolled through the Hyrule Compendium on the Sheikah slate, making mental notes of the missing entries.

Even breathing felt like a chore. Zelda missed the comforts of more temperate climates and looked forward to leaving the next morning now that her and the knight’s work there with the Gorons was complete.

A half hour or so passed before Link returned. Zelda jumped when the door opened, having been so absorbed in her reading material. Her eyes met the knight’s as he entered. He nodded to her and offered a small smile before closing the door behind him and motioning towards the mirror by the dresser. He wore a clean white shirt and short pants. His wild hair was wet from his bath.

Zelda continued to read as Link brushed his hair into a duly ponytail. He approached the bed.

“Will you be up for a while longer?” he asked.

“Yes, I would like to finish this book. I am almost at the end. It is quite fascinating! Did you know that…” But Link had stopped listening, not out of any disrespect but because of sheer exhaustion; that fight with the hinox brute earlier had left him more tired than he realized. As Zelda discussed the contents of her book, Link moved the candle from the nightstand on his side of the bed to the one on Zelda’s.

“...Amazing. There are so many things to learn about this Goddess-forsaken region.” The princess finally took a break from talking.

Her knight chuckled. “Goddess-forsaken?”

“I must admit to you, Link, that I have been most uncomfortable since our arrival here.” she explained, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Tease me if you must, but I am not at all accustomed to this climate and it does not suit me in the slightest.”

The other refrained from the teasing. “Can I do anything to make you more comfortable, princess? I could fetch you a cooling elixir.”

Zelda wanted to accept the offer, but shook her head. “No, I will be alright. You need your rest. I will be quiet now.”

“Being of service to you is not a bother--”

“Thank you.”

“...Do you need anything else, princess?”

“No. Thank you, Link.”

He nodded and proceeded to lie down, on top of the covers. His left hand rested on his stomach and the other above his head on the pillow. His typical sleeping position.

“Goodnight, princess.” he muttered, his eyes already closed.

“Goodnight, Link.”

Sometime later, after Zelda had finished her book, she sat it down on the nightstand and lay down on her side, facing the candle. She watched the flickering flame for a long, long while.

It was too hot. Too humid. And for the life of her, the princess was unable to fall asleep. She turned over, facing her knight. A weird sense of desperation came over her that she would not sleep at all that night and that have a terrible day tomorrow, and she wanted to wake Link so he could go and acquire a sleep tonic for her. But she couldn’t. She wouldn't.

So she just stared at Link, half comforted by the sight of him sleeping so soundly, half incredibly envious of the fact that he had already been sleeping for two or three hours and she hadn’t slept a wink.

Then she felt awkward, watching him like that.

Was it proper that she and Link shared a bed, if only to sleep? It hadn’t even crossed her mind before. She had been so immensely relieved to be cured of her nightmares that she hadn’t considered anything else. Besides, most evenings, both Link and Zelda were too exhausted from the various activities of the day to let their minds wander where they, perhaps, should not be. Everything was mechanical. And if otherwise, the two merely went over the next day’s plan on the Sheikah slate until they were too tired to continue.

The princess shuddered at the thought of her father finding out about the bedsharing, although, surely he knew somehow, from his place in the afterlife. It was a somewhat harrowing thought that Zelda pushed from her mind immediately.

But tonight, on account of her sleeplessness, her thoughts went somewhere it had only dared to graze over before.

She watched the slow rise and fall of the knight’s chest as he breathed. He snored softly, which was followed by a sort of contented moan that caused something in Zelda’s insides to stir. She had no explanation for that strange feeling, at the time.

She sighed. He is enjoying his sleep. Blessed be the Goddesses.

Suddenly, Link woke, and stared at Zelda with a confused expression and sleep-smeared eyes.

“...Princess? Are you alright?”

Zelda hesitated.

“What is wrong?”

“The mere fact that I bathed just a few hours ago and I already feel that I need to bathe again.”

Link scratched at his hair. His cheeks were visibly flushed. “It is hot in here.” he agreed, “I’ll open a window. Maybe some air flow will help.” He got up and did so. Before returning he acquired a looser, short sleeve shirt from his pack to replace the one he was wearing. He quickly switched the shirts with his back facing Zelda. She hadn’t been looking until one of his shoulder blades glinted in the candlelight and she glanced over a mere second too late to see anything else.

Did she want to see anything else? The sudden notion puzzled her.

When he turned, the two locked eyes.

“I’m sorry that you’re so uncomfortable, princess.” he said, approaching again. “Are you sure there isn't anything else that I can do to help?” He couldn’t stop the yawn that followed his offer.

“I just can’t sleep. Perhaps I will just try again tomorrow night when we’re back in Necluda.” She meant for this to be a joke but it came out more bitter than she had intended.

Link stared at her for a moment, thinking, before sitting crossed-legged on the bed and reaching for the Sheikah slate. It had been resting against the footboard. The bed dipped as the knight sat down and the princess had to readjust her own sitting position.

“...What are you doing?” she asked, curiously.

“Making note of something I just thought of.” was his answer. Zelda didn’t feel like prodding him to tell her what that something was, so she laid back down instead, feeling no less irritated. Link typed on the slate for less than a minute before setting it back down where had been and then lying down. He finally noticed Zelda glaring at him.

“What?”

“...Nothing.”

He wasn’t convinced, and they didn’t break eye contact. Finally, the princess’ expression softened.

“I was just thinking, Link…” she said quietly. “...and, please, be honest with me--”

“I’m always honest with you, princess.”

She paused, taken aback that he had interrupted her. He had never done that before. “...Just for the sake of my curiosity… Have you ever thought about… I mean… Have you ever wondered what we… If we…”

“Yes.”

“I...what?”

“Of course I have, princess. I’m not dense.”

“I… I was not at all suggesting that you were! I’m just genuinely curious…” Zelda pressed her lips together. She hardly understood these words that were, frivolously, escaping her lips with her voice. And yet, somehow, Link understood? It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Our questions will find their answers in due time, princess.”

“I know that. I have always been rather impatient, though, and I can’t help but wonder... But I apologize for this silly conversation. Please, go back to sleep. I have said too much.”

The moment of silence that followed, without any sort of closure from either party, proved to be far more uncomfortable than the hot weather.

The princess shut her eyes, feeling as if she had done something awful, and it took considerable effort on her part not to start crying. A line had been crossed and she wished that she could erase the past five minutes.

But Link moved beside her and before she had a chance to look at him and assess the situation, she felt his lips on hers.

It was soft.

Gentle.

Earnest.

Still, Zelda gasped from surprise. In doing so she opened her mouth slightly, which her knight took as an invitation.

Something was being set free. It was raw, unadulterated...wild. Something, perhaps, that had been waiting over a hundred years to come to the surface, having lay dormant all that time.

“Link, wait-- I-- There is so much more-- that I need to say--” But he was stealing away her breaths, and the words stopped materializing in her brain.

“Later.” he said. His lower lip dragged up her chin and briefly cupped hers before resuming the kiss.

“Oh-- I--”

He paused and they stared at each other for a few seconds. “...Do you want me to stop?”

“I… No--”

So he didn’t. Zelda sighed out the last bit of her resolve and allowed her mind to drift away amongst the sea of her inner consciousness.

His hands were on her; one on her hip and the other supporting her behind her back. She put her hands on either side of his face, daring to touch him for the first time. Their kisses became less tableau and more mindless; a feverish tangle of swollen lips and forceful breaths. They fell to the bed eventually and his mouth travelled from hers to along her jaw and then her ear.

She felt his warmth--impassionate and searing--seeping out from him, through his clothes and then through hers before entering her through the very pores of her skin.

...If she had been hot before, she was on fire now, having become one with the very pools of flame that flowed under the Great Eldin Bridge.

Link nuzzled against her neck, somehow finding new places to plant more kisses. Zelda felt that if this continued for much longer, she would surely implode.

“...We should stop…..” he said, his voice low near her ear. His breathing had syncopated with hers.

“Then stop...” was her response. It sounded like a dare.

“...Do you want me to stop, princess?”

The word princess made Zelda open her eyes. She stared at the textured beige ceiling above them as she tried to catch her breath. “...I’m afraid, Sir Link...that I simply don’t have the courage...to answer that question...as we are, now...”

At that, he retreated, removing his limbs from hers carefully. Zelda’s skin mourned the loss of his touch. She searched for his face but he refused to meet her eyes. She watched him swallow, hard. Her brain rebooted and had begun to replay what had just occurred over again in her mind like a slideshow. What...was happening? The princess tried to make logical sense of this new onset of feelings and emotions, but her body betrayed her with exhaustion and a yearning ache for more of his kisses.

“I’m sorry. That should not have happened.” Link said, finally, swallowing his breaths in vain attempt to calm himself down. “It is not my place to initiate such things. I’m ashamed of my behavior."

“But, Link--”

“I can’t share a bed with you anymore, princess. Please understand me. I… can’t.”

Zelda panicked, remembering the nightmares. “You can, and you must. Please! I need you to. You know this.”

He made no response. Instead, he got up with a vague gesture of distress.

“Wait--”

“I just need a few minutes to myself, princess. Please excuse me.”

Zelda nodded her permission and Link put on his cloak and boots before heading out into the night alone.

“It’s fine.” she reassured, a bit later, after he had returned.

“No. You barely opened a door and I shoved myself across the threshold. That is not fine, princess.”

“Maybe I wanted--” Zelda began, but she stilled her tongue.

Link stared, not realizing that he was holding his breath.

The princess swallowed her previous sentence. “...It’s my fault, then. For opening the door.” she said instead, feeling her heart sink, meanwhile.

That was not what her knight wanted to hear, either, and it was obvious in his expression.

“At any rate, I’m sorry...” he said, too late.

The princess was exasperated. The lack of sleep was making her eye sockets hurt. “Please don’t apologize for--”

“..For disturbing the peace between us.”

“--something that I started.” They had both spoken at the same time. There was a long, pregnant pause. It was then that they both realized that neither would be the same from that night on. Later that became a terrifying though exciting prospect; a new adventure to embark upon and a new world to explore but in that moment, it felt like both of them had lost something very precious and they felt its sudden absence very, very keenly, in their own ways.

“Link, let’s forget about this for right now. I am so very tired and I know that you are, too.” She patted his vacant spot on the bed. “Come and sleep.”

“I shouldn’t--”

“Come and sleep.” she repeated. It wasn’t a request.

He swallowed again. “Yes, princess.” He rejoined her on the bed, maintaining distance. They both lay down on their backs, both staring at the ceiling.

Zelda reached out and took Link’s hand. “I trust you, you understand that, right?” she said quietly. Her eyes were closed. “It is myself whom I do not trust just yet.”

“I understand.”

“Goodnight, Link.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

The night finally consumed the two--the Princess of Hyrule and her appointed knight--and they slept peacefully, long into the morning.

END.

[ravioxhilda]

Here is my contribution to the Ferriswheelshipping one-shot stockpile, written by yours truly. I decided to do a slight canon divergence of N returning to Unova before Hilda leaves to go search for them so they actually see each other. I hope you enjoy!

The past year had been...harrowing, to say the least.

Ghetsis, the leader of Team Plasma, had been defeated and arrested by Alder and Cheren, as well as the remains of his team.

The Pokémon League had suffered a large blow by being defeated and taken over by the enemy, the Elite Four barely managing to escape before Team Plasma’s Castle had erupted from the ground.

Unova had since fallen into a sense of restless peace, celebrating the rise of its new Champion who had brought Ghetsis and the whole of Team Plasma to its knees, Hilda.

“A teenager defeated our greatest threat? How did she do it?”

“Are we sure she wasn’t apart of their team this entire time? She is awfully suspicious.”

“Yes, she was seen with the leader’s...what was he, son?”

“I believe so, they even were together at the Ferris Wheel in Nimbasa City, one of the top romantic spots in Unova. That is a little strange.

Those were stories and rumors circulating around the region’s newest Champion, and she possibly had more articles written about her and the elusive “King of Team Plasma who had mysteriously disappeared” in the few weeks after she became Champion than Alder had his entire time as Champion.

How Hilda wished she could dispute the rumors, explain about what exactly had happened between her and N, but she couldn’t. In truth, she couldn’t even decide what exactly her relationship with him was either.

So she sat in silence, the new responsibilities as the representative of all Unovan Trainers keeping her mind occupied most of the time, though at night when she could finally gather her thoughts, her mind drifted towards N.

She hadn’t seen him since he had disappeared with Reshiram after the collapse of Team Plasma’s Castle, the castle he had summoned from the ground.

She had known who he was, she had known the dangers of associating with him, with being around him, and yet, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him unlike anyone else she had ever met before.

Now, he was nowhere to be seen, his father imprisoned, his loyal followers having gone into hiding all across the region. Everyone knew they were there and simply biding their time, but even after multiple rigorous searches carried out by the International Police, they had found nothing.

It was as if they had disappeared into thin air.

Hilda lay in her bed at her home in Nuvema Town, the moonlight streaking across the floor as she stared out the window towards the night sky, as if she would catch a glimpse of a white dragon streaking through the sky.

She sighed, turning away as she felt exhaustion beginning to creep into her body, allowing her to finally fall asleep.

At the entrance to the small town, where Pokémon were scattering about, a large white dragon had landed, a green long-haired Trainer sliding off its back and landed quietly on the grass.

“Looks like we’re finally home, Reshiram. I’ll go find out any information about where she might be, you go back up and hide in the sky.” The Trainer said, patting the Pokémon’s back before it flew off, leaving him alone.

He grasped the charm on the necklace he wore as he stepped nervously into the town, afraid of what awaited him within.

~~~

“Hilda? Sweetie, are you awake?”

Hilda blearily opened one eye, looking to see that the sun had already risen quite high into the sky, not a good sign to see when she was supposed to be working or training.

“Yeah, I’m up.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as the door opened, her mother peeking her head through the doorframe.

“When you’re finished getting ready, could you come downstairs? Someone is here to see you.” She said, though Hilda could sense the unease in her mother’s eyes.

“Who is it? Is it that International Policeman again?” Hilda asked, and her mother shook her head.

“He wouldn’t tell me a name, only a letter. He has been waiting here for the past twenty minutes, though he insisted on helping tidying up while waiting for you to wake up.” She said, and Hilda froze, a million thoughts spinning through her mind as she immediately got out of bed.

“Hilda, is everything alright?” Her mother asked, eyeing her daughter with concern as Hilda looked frantically into her eyes.

“Mom, whatever happens, don’t let him leave. I’ll be down in a few minutes, don’t let him out of your sight.” She said, rushing over to close the door before her mother could utter another word.

“Is N really here? Why is he here? Doesn’t he understand that the International Police are on the hunt for him?” She thought as she ran around the room, desperately trying to get dressed as well as tidy up the room.

Hilda rushed downstairs into the kitchen to see her mother chatting amicably with another person.

He hadn’t changed one bit. Even his hair looked the same, and the warm smile on his face still served to make her heart beat slightly faster.

“N?”

He looked over to see Hilda, though if he hadn’t known it was her, he could have easily mistaken her for someone else.

Her clothing hadn’t changed much, except she had stopped wearing her hat, but the way she held herself was more...confident, though even he could sense the exhaustion weighing her down.

“Hello, Hilda.” He said, smiling softly as he walked closer towards her, though she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

“But, how are you-“

“I’ll explain everything later, I promise.” He said, then turned to Hilda’s mother, bowing his head to her respectfully.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I should be leaving. Do you mind if take your daughter out? She will be back early if that is an issue.” He said, and Hilda’s mother smiled and nodded.

“Of course I don’t mind! Feel free to be out as long as you want.”

N nodded as he held out his hand towards Hilda, who was still trying to process the situation, though that damned smile was making her face heat up.

“Will you come with me, then? We can go anywhere you’d like.” He asked, and Hilda slowly nodded as she took ahold of his hand, firmly grasping it to make sure he was really there.

“Come on, let’s go. Reshiram is waiting for us, and it can be pretty impatient at times.”

N then dragged Hilda out the door, leaving her mother very confused as she waved good-bye.

The two ran through the small town, the dirt kicking up underneath their feet as N pulled Hilda away from her home.

“N, where are you taking me?” She asked, though was cut short when he abruptly stopped, scanning the sky as if he was searching for something.

“I need to find...ha, there it is!”

Hilda squinted as she followed his gaze, though was only given a second to back up before Reshiram slammed into the ground, seeming a little annoyed as it glared at N.

“I’m sorry, it took a little longer than I thought it would to find her, but here she is. Hilda, I believe you remember Reshiram?” N asked, allowing Hilda to step closer to the Legendary, reaching out to touch its side.

“Hello, Reshiram. It’s been a while since I have seen you, though I suppose a year isn’t incredibly long for a Pokémon that’s lived as long as you.” She said softly, the Legendary Pokémon grunting in response.

“Do you know what N is planning on doing?” She asked, Reshiram shaking its head as it leaned down, allowing N to climb onto its back.

“It does not, but do you trust me enough to come with us?” He asked, holding out his hand once again to Hilda, the sight of it so very enticing. What would happen if she accepted his proposal? Where would they go?

She sighed, grabbing ahold of N’s hand, allowing him to pull her up behind him onto the Legendary, wrapping her arms around his torso, shocking him for a moment as he heard the words he’d been so afraid he’d never hear again.

“I trust you.”

N smiled, patting the side of the Legendary’s neck, signaling for it to take off from the ground.

It did so with no warning, causing Hilda to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming as she held tightly onto N, still confused by everything that was happening but knowing he was key to her not panicking and possibly falling off.

It was silent for a time, no words spoken, just the wind rushing around them as they soared through the sky, though N couldn’t help but think that having Hilda hold onto him so tightly was...nice.

He had longed to see her since leaving Unova, even with everything else on his mind, such as finding out his father using him or the International Police doing their utmost to track him down.

Now here he was, her holding onto him for dear life as they soared through the skies of their home, and now he was so unsure of what to say.

“Hilda? Are you ready to look at me now?”

Hilda slightly relaxed her grip as she moved her head away from his back to see him staring at once again with a smile, as if her presence was bringing him joy.

“Where are you taking me, N? You can’t just disappear for a year and then show up at my home with no explanation!” She demanded, though N could only laugh at her pouting expression. How he had missed this. How he had missed her.

“I have no particular destination in mind, but I needed to get away from your home as quickly as possible. I spotted some International Police agents in the woods surrounding it, and I am still a national fugitive.” He said, his expression suddenly serious.

“If you’re still wanted, then why did you return to Unova? Team Plasma is probably also trying to track you down.” She asked, and N seemed to hesitate, looking past her into the distance, as if a painful memory had come to mind.

“It’s...difficult to explain. Perhaps you and I can go somewhere to chat? Where would you like to go, we have all of Unova to explore.”

Hilda thought for a moment, a place coming to mind almost immediately, though for all the wrong reasons.

“Nimbasa City. I want to go to Nimbasa City.”

That shocked N. The very place he had betrayed her, had hurt her, why in the world would she want to go there?

“Hilda, are you sure? Do you not remember what happened before?” He asked, her nodding as she clenched her fists against her lap.

“I remember. It hurts for me to remember, but I want to have new memories of it with you so it is less...painful.”

N nodded, urging Reshiram onward as they returned to the uncomfortable silence, the memories of that night still in their minds as Hilda held onto him once again, afraid that if she looked away again, he would be gone.

The sun was already beginning its descent when the three had finally arrived at Nimbasa City, a shining city in Unova that housed many attractions, including the Gym Leader Elesa’s Electric Gym, as well as the Ferris Wheel.

The very sight of it dredged up many more painful memories for Hilda and N. It was as if they were reliving the past all over again.

“Hilda, are you absolutely certain you want to be here? We can go to another city if you’d like.” N asked, though Hilda glared at him a with a determined look in her eyes as she pointed towards the Ferris Wheel.

“I am. We should talk there, less chance of being spotted by the International Police.” She said simply, walking in the direction of the Ferris Wheel, leaving N to send off Reshiram before rushing after her.

After catching up with her, the two arrived at a small kiosk that lay at the foot of the attraction, an obviously bored engineer standing behind the counter collecting money from passengers.

“Welcome to the Rondez-View Ferris Wheel, where couples can board and enjoy the view to their heart’s content. Fee is ¥1,000, pay the money or stay away.” She said, looking between Hilda and N with a skeptical look on her face.

“Huh, never would have expected the Champion would be here with Unova’s most wanted criminal. I guess the rumors are true.”

Hilda looked at N with worry before taking out the money from her bag and handing it to the engineer.

“You won’t tell the International Police we’re here, will you?” She asked, and the engineer waved her off before opening the small gate.

“I’m not one to get in the way of a blossoming romance, go have a good time, just try and be discreet and we won’t have any problems.” She said finally, allowing Hilda and N to slip by the a silent nod of thanks before stepping into an gondola, the door closing behind them.

The area was small, two cushioned seats allowing enough room for two people each to sit, a small air conditioning whirring to keep the enclosed space cool.

Hilda and N sat down together on one seat, almost touching though trying so desperately not to.

“We’re alone now. Now tell me everything that has happened.” Hilda said softly, though N couldn’t even make eye contact with her, instead looking out towards the horizon of the evening sky.

“I know that I have done some...very bad things in the past, and there is no making up for it. Me running away and leaving you behind was another one of those bad things. But the truth was...I was scared.” He said, shocking Hilda as she looked up towards him, trying to catch his eye.

“You were scared of being caught by the International Police or by Ghetsis?” She asked, placing a hand on his arm as she felt him shudder at the sound of his adoptive father’s name.

“It wasn’t just that. I was scared, no I was terrified, of what would happen if I stayed here in Unova, with you. The thought of you getting hurt because of me was something I couldn’t bear, so I left before it could happen.”

He then turned towards her, his eyes full of such sadness that it caused Hilda to freeze, her tears in her eyes matching the ones forming in his own.

“I understand, N, I really do. But you being gone for so long hurt me more than anything anyone could do to me. I missed you so much, I came here every day just in the hope that I’d see you sitting right here, waiting for me.” She said, tentatively reaching out to cup her palm against his cheek.

“Hilda...” He started, though Hilda shook her head as she placed a finger to his lips.

“Please, let me finish. You had such noble intentions, and I thank you for that. But listen to me when I say this, please don’t leave me behind again, I don’t think I could handle it.” She pleaded, causing him to smile as he leaned his forehead against hers, taking ahold of both her hands.

“Nothing in this world can keep me away from you forever. You showed me the true value of this world after I had been led astray by the lies of my father my entire life. Hilda, you made me want to become a better person, someone who is worthy of you, of being with you.”

Hilda smiled, leaning closer towards N until the space between them had been closed, her lips touching his as she closed her eyes, feeling him let go of her hands to pull her closer to him, holding her tightly in his arms.

The feeling of being held so tenderly, brushing her hand through N’s hair so softly as he kissed her so softly made Hilda feel as if she was walking on air, the taste of his lips so sweet and warm.

To N, this was something he had never thought about, never even considered a possibility in his life. Loving someone had always been out of the question as he tried to free his friends from the confines of their Trainer’s every whim, but now, he couldn’t imagine anything else other than being with the girl in his arms.

Neither had ever thought it would feel so...right, so natural.

“N...” Hilda murmured, causing N to pull away to look her in the eyes, though he did not let go of her, which she was grateful for.

“Is everything alright?” He whispered, Hilda nodding quickly as she leaned towards him, laying her head against his shoulder as she pulled him into a closer embrace.

“I just...I never imagined that’s what that would be like. I feel so...safe with you here, I haven’t been at ease like this in so long.” She said, breaking into a fit of hysterics as N smiled, patting her back in a comforting manner.

“I’ve never felt calm as I am when I’m around you. You put put my mind and soul at peace, and I’d never want it any way.” He said, Hilda smiling as she looked up out the window, realizing they were almost back down to the ground.

“Looks like our time is almost up.”

N nodded sadly, reaching over to open the door as the gondola slowly slid by the platform, pulling Hilda out onto the flat steel area, the engineer staring at them as bored as ever.

“Looks like you two had fun. However, you may want to skip town, I’ve had two International Police agents come waltzing by while you were being all lovey-dovey.” She said nonchalantly, holding up her hand to stop any protests from either of them.

“I don’t care if you were kissing in the gondola, that’s the least of what I have to worry about people doing, just get out of here, and next time, don’t bring a fugitive.”

Hilda nodded, scanning the area to see two suspiciously dressed characters loitering around the Ferris Wheel entrance.

“Come on, Nimbasa City will be crawling with police if you’re spotted.” Hilda urged, now pulling N along as he waved his hands frantically in the air, attempting to capture Reshiram’s attention.

Thankfully, it worked as the Legendary Dragon soon landed in front of them, immediately kneeling to allow the two to hurriedly climb on before taking off again into the now dark sky before two police officers could catch up to them.

The wind whipped around them harshly, causing Hilda to shiver before deciding to lean backwards into N, his body heat seeping into her skin as she smiled with contentment.

“Are you taking me home?”

The question seemed to sit in the air for a moment, one that should have been so simple, and yet it brought both of them a sense of dread. They had known this day couldn’t last forever, and yet neither of them wanted it to end.

“Yes, I am. There’s nowhere safer for you right now.” He said simply, feeling a sort of sadness beginning to creep in as he held Hilda towards him once again, afraid that if he let go, she would no longer be there and it was all a dream.

Reshiram soon landed back at the outskirts of Nuvema Town, though thankfully there was no one wandering about the small town, allowing Hilda and N to land on the dragon unnoticed.

Hilda slid off its back, patting the Legendary’s head and whispering thanks to it before turning to look at N, a look of sadness in his eyes.

“Are you leaving?” She asked, and N hesitated for a moment before nodding, a look of utter sorrow in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Hilda. You remember what that woman said, I’m still a wanted fugitive, and even if you may be Champion, you can still be arrested for just being around me.” He said, and Hilda sighed, stepping closer before pulling him down towards her for another kiss, which he happily obliged.

“You better not be gone for an entire year this time. I don’t care how dangerous it is to be with you, I would go through anything just to have you close.” She whispered, N nodding as he kissed her once again, desperate to have as many from her as possible.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise. You still have things you need to do here in Unova, and you aren’t allowed to come with me. It’s too dangerous.” He said, Hilda sighing as she felt tears start to well up.

“I know, I have my duty as Champion to fulfill, but N?”

“Hm?”

Hilda wrapped her arms around him and held him as close as she could, squeezing him tightly as tears began to run freely down her cheeks.

“Please don’t forget about me.” She whispered, N smiling as he held her.

“There is nothing in this world that could make me forget you. Farewell, Hilda.”

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Falling Ch. 4

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader [and a few more to come]

Summary: For a moment you had something good, something wonderful. But moments pass. Now, left with nothing but the ashes of a life and a love you fought so hard for, you find yourself in a free fall. Who will you be once you hit the bottom? [Sequel to Only For A Moment but can be read independently.]

Warnings: Loss, grief, violence, death, blood, just all the things

A/N: Well... Ya know I’m at a loss for what to say about this one. It’s a lot and goddamn if I don’t love me some angry Steve Rogers. 

Also, thank y’all so much for the really great feedback on the last chapter! I absolutely love hearing from readers.

OH! If you read my Stay series there is a sad little easter egg in here. Let me know if you catch it. 

TAGS ARE OPEN

“I still can’t believe it,” Bucky pushed a stray piece of hair from his face. “She even agreed to take my name.” 

Steve couldn’t help but smile. 

“Sam can’t believe that one either.” 

Bucky chuckled, “Glad he and I can agree on something.” 

“I’m so happy for you, brother.” He settled a hand on Bucky’s good shoulder, feeling like his chest was going to burst. 

Never in a million years could he have imagined James Barnes actually settling down. He certainly never thought they’d ever be watching a peaceful sunset over the water discussing how happy Bucky was to be settling down. But their lives had been nothing if not a long line of surprises; at least this one was pleasant. 

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, a cloud of worry suddenly darkening his features. 

“Stevie…” The old nickname shot a pang of worry through Steve’s gut. Bucky didn’t take his eyes off the water as he continued. “If something were to happen-” 

“Buck, nothing is-”

Bucky let out a low bitter laugh, “Careful there, pal. Getting dangerously close to a lie.” 

“I’m not exactly the most popular guy in the world,” he tilted his head to meet Steve’s worried expression. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m about to disappear.” Bucky shoved Steve’s shoulder with his own, “I’m not you. I have no intention to go lookin’ for trouble.” 

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Jerk.”

“But,” Bucky continued, ignoring Steve’s soft jab, “trouble seems to like me so… Just…” He took a ragged breath, eyes once more on the horizon. 

“Just what, Buck?” When Bucky looked back Steve almost lost his breath. The emotion on his friend’s face like a knife in his heart. Fear, worry, shame, and something else all swirl around him. 

“Just promise me you’ll look out for her.”

That afternoon with Bucky by the lake plays over and over in Steve’s head throughout the flight back to the states. 

Look out for her, was all Bucky had asked. 

Take care of her, Okoye ordered. 

He wanted to do both. 

So why did he keep failing?

Why had he placed his own burdens on you the same night you’d lost your own battle with grief? Why could he keep up appearances for everyone else but not you? Why was he sitting here across the jet while Thor did what he should have been doing? 

He would do better. He had to. 

When the jet lands at the compound his resolve wavers just a bit. They were all supposed to come home together. He’d promised Wanda that… 

“I’m good, Thor,” your voice pulls him back. 

Thor stands, making his way out of the jet, Rocket at his heels. You don’t move though, bolted to your seat, eyes on your clasped hands as if in prayer. 

Natasha steps away from the captain’s chair, glancing at you then him, an unspoken question on her face. Steve nods in response and she too leaves. 

Steeling himself for rejection, he stands, slowly walking over to you and extending his hand. 

You look up at him with painfully red eyes, the circles beneath them making the effect all the more harrowing. He thought of what Okoye said M’Baku had called you. Demon. 

Surprisingly, you accept his hand. 

“Here,” he reaches for the backpack slung over one of your shoulders, “let me.”

“No,” you release his hand, immediately gripping the strap of the bag with white-knuckled force. He tries not to look put off by the action and suspects that he failed, if your follow up was any indication. “You can get my duffle though.” 

A half-smile tugs at his mouth, “Alright.” 

Shouldering his bag and yours he heads out into the later afternoon sun. It had been almost full night when they left Wakanda and such transitions always shook him. He credited that with the reason he didn’t immediately notice that you remained frozen at the foot of the ramp. 

“Y/N?” He asked gently, heading back toward you. With a chill he remembered how you’d stood in the woods that night, unmoving. 

“Are you sure I should be here?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

His brows knit in confusion, “Of course. Why wouldn’t-”

“Isn’t this technically Stark’s place? I doubt he’d want… Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” They’d cleared it with Pepper, and in his opinion, that was all that mattered. “If anyone has an issue with it they can take it up with me.” 

You nod in acceptance and follow him inside. 

-

The room Steve showed you to had the cold but comfortable feel of an upscale hotel. Not a speck of dust or item out of place. 

“If you need anything just find me or ask Friday,” Steve said running a hand through his hair. “Kitchen should have a few things according to Rhodey. And-”

“I’m good, Steve.” You didn’t want him to feel obligated to linger. 

“Ok, but if-”

“I said I’m good,” your tone was filled with far more bite than you intended. You cringe at the hurt that quickly flashes in his eyes. 

“Alright,” he nods. “Get some rest.”

“You too.” 

As soon as the door closes behind Steve you can hear Bucky’s voice in your head. 

Look out for him. He’d asked that of you not long after you made your marriage official. 

God, you’d hated that entire conversation. Hated that even in the safety of Wakanda he was afraid of something happening to him, something he couldn’t control. Now you hated even more that he’d been right.

He’d trusted that you would take care of the only family he had left. 

And you were failing him. 

Your right hand begins to tremble, thrumming with power, fingers flexing, reaching for the ghost of his heartbeat. 

Anger flares in your chest. Curling your hand into a tight fist you slam it into the door, again and again, until the metal finally groans. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your forehead pressed against the door, breath catching. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.” 

Suddenly you sway on your feet, a wave of pure exhaustion rolling over you. Cradling your bloody fist to your chest you shuffle to the bed, unable and unwilling to face another moment of consciousness. 

When you wake, it’s full dark. Your hand throbs with pain but it’s better than the memory of loss it carried before. You locate a fully stocked medkit in the bathroom - perks of crashing at a superhero base you guess - and bandage your hand. After that, you’re unsure what to do with yourself.

Aimlessly you pace the room, growing somehow more numb and frantic with each circuit. From time to time your packed bag catches your attention; you know you should probably unpack but… The thought of getting the bag, opening it, going through the contents, finding where to put each one. It felt like an insurmountable task. 

Finally, the grumbling in your stomach breaks through, forcing you from the room.

There wasn’t a ton in the kitchen, which made sense considering no one had been living here full time, but mercifully there was bread, peanut butter, and jelly in the fridge which was enough. 

You pour all your focus into the familiar task of making PB&J. Taking far too much care to get the peanut butter right to the edge of each piece, making a little well for the jelly, not pressing too hard when you cut. So, when someone presses on your awareness you jump in alarm, body hovering about a foot in the air. 

“Shit! Sorry,” Natasha holds her hands up trying to be unthreatening. It’s then that you realize the cabinet doors are shuddering. You swallow a breath, feet back on the ground, the cabinets silent once more. 

“You’re good. I was just… distracted.”

“I see that,” she looks from the two sandwiches to you. “Never seen someone pay that much attention to a peanut butter sandwich.” 

You shrug, “Want one?” 

“No. That’s yours. I can-” You float one of the sandwiches over to her. She smiles. “Fine.” 

She grabs the sandwich and leans against the counter across from you.  

For about half a sandwich you eat in silence. It’s not uncomfortable but the unspoken crackles. 

“I lost someone once…” Your eyes shoot to hers. A sheen of unshed tears makes her eyes glitter in the dim kitchen. “She was like you.”

“How?” 

“Gifted.” You snort at the word. 

“She didn’t view it as a gift either. Charlie,” she pauses, taking a shaky breath, “could read emotions, catch glimpses of memory, even read thoughts if she set her mind to it. Empathetic with telepathic tendencies was what her S.H.I.E.L.D. file called it.” A soft smile fills Natasha’s face, “She just called herself a freak.” She sets her plate down, half a sandwich still on it. 

“We… It wasn’t what you could call traditional. We never settled down, couldn’t. But, we made it work in our own way. She… I loved her. I’ve never… Anyway, she-” Natasha’s voice breaks. 

You don’t breathe, don’t move. All your effort is focused on listening and keeping control of yourself even as you feel your power threatening to break free. 

Finally, you ask, “How long?”

“She’s been gone almost ten years.” That hits you right in the chest. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but…” She trails off. 

A vision of your future flashes in your mind. Years spread out before you. Empty and aimless without the warmth of his smile or the ring of his laughter.  

There’s a scream bubbling up in your chest. Without warning Natasha reaches across the small space separating you, grabbing your hand with ferocious strength. 

“I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.” 

Her touch shakes you. The warmth of her palm, her fingers shifting between your own. 

Neither of you let go. 

It just happens. One moment you’re about to drown in the understanding that there was no coming back from this, no healing, no return, and the next-

Your lips crash into hers. 

They’re warm and soft. Something real and solid and alive. Her mouth opens against yours, your other hand reaching to cup the back of her head. You want to forget, ashes and heartache and loss - burry those feeling in the heat of her. 

“Stop,” she breathes heavily against your kiss. 

That one word sends reality crashing back into you. With a sharp breath, you release her, stumbling back into the opposite counter, hand covering your mouth to keep in your shock. 

Around you, things begin to hum, a low deep frequency rather than a shaking, as you feel your perception dive beneath the surface. The plate next to you lets out a creaking sound as it begins to crumble. 

Too much. 

“It’s ok, Y/N,” Natasha grips your shoulders. 

“I’m so sorry,” you croak from beneath your hand. 

“It’s ok,” she smiles, rubbing your upper arms comfortingly. Slowly you regain some kind of control. 

“No,” you shake your head. “That was-  Fuck!” You pull away from her, pacing several steps away, gripping your head trying not to lose it. 

“I should never have… God, Nat, I’m so-”

“Stop,” she says in a tone that broaches no argument. You turn to look at her, arms crossed leaned against the counter like nothing happened. 

“Didn’t I just say you weren’t alone? I get it. I do. I’m not hurt or offended. We’re good.” She walks over to you, forcing you to release your grip, lowering your arms. 

“We’re good. Ok?” 

You nod in response, not trusting yourself to speak. 

“Let’s finish these sandwiches.” 

-

Steve spent the last week and a half on a razor edge. 

He managed to retain his composure the few times he found himself among the others. Thankfully, save for a handful of meals and some attempts to scan for Thanos however they could, everyone kept to themselves. 

Despite the commitment he made on the jet, he couldn’t bring himself to spend more than a few minutes in your presence. The one time he did, he spent most of the night blowing through punching bags. 

He’d been so fucking concerned for you. So worried your grief would be too much. You’d be lost, and he’d have failed Bucky in a way he could never forgive himself for. Clearly, after what he’d seen in the kitchen, his concern had been for nothing. You were moving on nicely. 

With one more ferocious right hook, the punching bag lost the fight. 

Huffing with exhaustion and exertion he collapses onto the padded floor of the training gym, resting his forearms on his knees. 

“We don’t have an endless supply of those ya know?” His head shoots up to see Rhodes leaning in the doorway. 

Steve pushes his sweat-damp hair from his eyes, “Seem to be the only one using ‘em so we shouldn’t run out too soon.” Rhodes nods in acquiescence, hovering in the door.

“What’s up, Rhodes?”

Rhodes sighs, “Pepper wants to go back into the city. Start figuring out what to do now.” The more time that passed the more likely it was that Tony, like the others, wasn’t coming back. 

Steve nods, “When?”

“Tomorrow.” 

It would mean two fewer people to serve as a buffer between you and him - he wasn’t even particularly thrilled to be around Natasha right now - but it was also two less to keep up appearances for. 

“You’ll let us know if we can help?”

“Of course. And if-” Rhodes is cut off as the building shudders. 

“Friday?” Rhodes asks.

“Captain Danvers has returned and appears to have a craft of some kind with her.”

He still didn’t know what to make of the mysterious woman who’d clearly been close with Fury but they weren’t in a position to be picky - they needed all the help they could get. 

Steve and Rhodes rush out, the others right behind them. 

No one speaks as Carol lands the ship and steps away. 

The ramp lowers and, Tony, supported by a tall blue woman, staggers out. 

Without a thought for the past, Steve rushes to help.

“I couldn’t stop him,” Tony says, voice rough. 

“Neither could I,” the words feel bitter on Steve’s tongue. 

“I lost the kid,” the sorrow in Tony’s eyes is like salt in every wound Steve carries. The kid. The one from Queens… 

“Tony,” the words stick, “we lost-” He doesn’t know what to say. There are too many names. Thankfully Pepper runs up, gathering Tony in her arms. 

Steve turns away from the moment just in time to see the bitter, pained, look on your face. Despite his anger, he feels his heart ache for you. 

True to form, Tony wanted to immediately know what happened in his absence. Seeing the images of all those they knew and loved - everyone he failed to save - lined up as Natasha gave the rundown made him feel like he was being crushed. 

“As far as we can tell, he did exactly what he said he would. Wiped out half of all living creatures…” Natasha says, her voice surprisingly only shaking a bit. 

Steve glances toward Carol, her eyes shining with unshed tears. 

“And what’s with him?” Tony asks, gesturing toward Thor’s slumped form in the atrium. 

“He thinks he failed,” Rocket says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Which he did. But seems like there’s a lot of that goin’ around.” 

Tony gapes at the raccoon, “You know, until this second I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

“Maybe I am,” Rocket says, sounding tired. 

“We’ve been scanning, trying to find him,” Steve says. He can feel Tony veering off course. It was a defense mechanism, his wit. While Steve couldn’t blame him now wasn’t the time. “You fought him Tony-”

“Who told you that?” All eyes shoot to Tony in confusion. “He wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the store. There was no fight-”

“Ok,” Steve tries to say gently. “But did he give any clues, coordinates, any-” Tony cuts him off with a raspberry noise. 

“Tony,” Steve is too damn tired to hide his exasperation, “we need you to focus.”

“And I needed you!” Tony swipes at the bowl of oatmeal and the glass of water sending them tumbling as he stands on shaky legs. “Past tense. We lost because you chose to leave. We lost because of-” He takes one teetering step toward Steve before his body stops, rigid. Steve looks at you, your focus squarely on Tony. 

“Enough,” you say in a low voice. Tony turns his head, noticing you for the first time. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony looks around for an answer. “Has she been here-” Steve can see when you release Tony, the action sending his frail body swaying. 

“This isn’t on Steve,” you say, dismissing Tony’s question. “You don’t get to come for him like-”

Tony laughs, “Oh! Oh, I remember you now. Barnes’ little-”

“Tony,” Steve says in a warning tone. Tony, ignores him. 

“Fangirl. The murderous Sinead O’Connor look suits you by the way.” Tony eyes you, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. 

“Why are you here?” It’s impossible to miss the venom in Tony’s voice. “From what I saw, your deranged-” The table begins to shake followed by a low creaking groan. 

“Ooo, spooky. This isn’t Wakanda sweetheart. We don’t harbor murderers.” You visibly flinch. Steve’s blood boils.

“Tony! What the hell?” He closes the distance in a beat, beginning to pull Tony away, but serum or not he could never be faster than Tony’s sharp tongue. 

“Isn’t that what you are? Reaper.” Tony nearly snarls the moniker Hydra granted you. The floor begins to shake. You look away like you’d been slapped. “Yeah that’s right I read-”

When you turn back you don’t say a word, just spit in Tony’s face before storming out, the tremors going with you.

“Classy new friends, Rogers,” Tony says, wiping his face with his sleeve as Steve grabs his shoulders. 

“I think you’re the one who needs a lesson in class,” Natasha says. 

“Do I? You know what,” Tony rips the arc reactor from his chest, “here.” He presses it against Steve's hand. “Why don’t the two of you take this and your new best friend and go find Thanos. See if you can do better with-” Tony doesn’t finish before collapsing. 

-

You didn’t know where to go. 

Part of you wanted to run. Leave them and all of this behind and never look back. All promises made to the dead be damned. 

But you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you find yourself on the roof, staring out into the trees. Futility you try to calm your power pulsing in your body like a caged beast, restless and screaming for release. 

Unsure of what else to do, you let it sink into the concrete under your hands, pulling at the tiny particles until a chunk of the low wall surrounding the roof comes free. It hovers before you as you focus all your power into it, feel each tiny atom humming even in this inanimate chunk of rocks and cement. 

This time, you force your eyes open, even though your brain stutters with the effort of maintaining this level of perception - visual and whatever you could call this. The concrete begins to crumble, you feel your power plucking away at the pieces, pulling them apart bit by imperceptible. 

Deep in the recesses of your mind, you feel the hunger. It’s as though whatever the stones left behind was seeking sustenance in this strange destruction. 

Your right hand begins to tremble, the memory of losing your hold on Bucky rising fast to the surface. As your palm flattens - muscles remembering their position at that moment, desperate to return to it - you force your hand into a fist. Immediately, the floating chunk of the wall crumbles to dust. 

Dumbfounded, you stare at the heap sitting on the edge of the wall as bits are caught by the wind. Fear rises in the back of your throat, tasting metallic on your tongue. 

Thankfully, Natasha arrives before the panic fully grips you, providing a welcome distraction. 

Wordlessly she stands beside you, eyes on the peaceful scene. All you can think is that she’s standing so close to danger and doesn’t seem to notice.

“Tony passed out.”

“I didn’t-”

“No! No. No one thinks you did. I just meant… If you wanted to come back in.” You grip the wall, knuckles white, unsure of what you want. 

She sighs, “He’s really not-”

“Don’t try to defend Tony Stark to me. Not after-” You don’t have it in you to even think about Bucky.  

“Right…” The silence rises like a wall between you. 

Rather than speak, Natasha lays a light hand on your shoulder. You sigh and nod.

Rhodes steps out of the small medical room off the lab when you and Natasha make it back inside. 

“He’s probably gonna be out for the rest of the night,” he says on a sigh.

“Good,” you throw a raised eyebrow at Carol. “You guys take care of him and I’ll bring him a Xorrian Elixir when I get back.” She turns on her heel as you exchange a questioning glance with the others. 

“Where’re you going?” Steve asks, striding after. 

“To kill Thanos,” she replies without missing a beat. 

“Hey!” Natasha calls after her. “We normally work as a team around here we could-”

“We know up there is more your territory but this is our fight too,” Steve says. The slight exasperation in Carol’s expression makes you smile just a little. You hadn’t spent much time with her but you found yourself liking her nonetheless. 

“Do you even know where he is?” Rhodes asks. 

“I know some people who might,” Carol says. 

“Don’t bother,” Nebula, says. You’re pretty sure it was the first you’d heard the woman speak. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”

Nebula’s story about her father sends chills down your spine. You’d always thought parents couldn’t get much worse than your own but you were clearly way off the mark. But when Rocket pulls up the scan from their ship any remnants of cold flee your veins. 

“Hey, hey, hey. We’d be going in short-handed ya know?” Bruce cautions. 

“Look he’s still got the stones so-” Rhodes backs him. 

Carol meets your eyes, “So let’s go get him.” You nod. “Use the stones to bring everyone back.”

“Just like that?” Banner questions in disbelief. 

“Yeah,” you and Steve say in tandem. You meet his eyes. 

“Just like that,” Steve finishes. 

You’d no sooner made peace with the concept of literally going to space than you were boarding the ship thanks to Carol’s quick fuel trip and Rocket’s adept repairs. 

It seemed unreal that you were looking out at Earth. From here, just outside the atmosphere, it looked peaceful and unassuming. When the ship turned, facing space rather than the broken planet you’d just left, you felt like you could stare into that beautiful endless sea forever. 

“Okay,” Rocket begins, ending your awe. “Who here hasn’t been to space?” You, Natasha, Steve, and Rhodes, look awkwardly at one another before raising your hands. Carol catches your eye, a smirk on her face. You werene’t sure if you should laugh or be terrified. 

“Why?” Rhodes asked, his tone suspicious. Carol laughs. 

“You better not throw up on my ship,” Rocket said dismissively. 

Nebula’s countdown was hardly visible over the sound of your heart. But the moment the jump began you calmed. 

Your mind felt silent, your power, unable to keep up with the movement surrounding you, just gave up. It felt incredible, like a tense muscle relaxing. And the colors. 

Space opened up around you, an indescribeably beautiful swirl of color and light. 

It was over too soon. But on the plus side, no one threw up. 

As Carol goes down for recon you all move about the ship, nervous energy thrumming through the air. 

The planet beneath you didn’t look so different from your own. You wonder about the people there, wonder if they realized what kind of monster was hiding among them.

“There’s no one but him,” Carol’s voice relays on the comms. A whole planet. And not one other being… Anger curls in your chest. 

After Carol gives a full rundow of his location Steve relays your plan of attack. 

You’d approach in teams. You and Carol would go in first since your abilities would give you an advantage. Thor, Rhodes, and Banner would follow - the two suited men assisting in restraining Thanos whole Thor removed the gauntlet. The others would follow.

“We can’t hesitate. If he has even the slightest window he’s going to use it,” Steve says. 

“Let’s do this,” Thor responds, weilding his axe. 

On the planet’s surface you feel suddenly off kilter. That insidious hunger rising in the back of your mind, reaching for the stones and their power. It ached at the base of your skull. 

“Ready?” Carol asks. It pulls your focus away from the strange feeling and replacing it with fear as you remember the last time you faced Thanos. None of you were enough. How could this be- 

The fingers on your right hand tingle, the ghost of a heartbeat beneath your palm. 

Fuck fear. 

“Absolutely,” you say without an ounce of doubt pushing against the ground with your power, sending your body into the air.  

Carol blasts a hole through the roof of Thanos’ hut and shoots inside. You follow her down. 

The moment she has him in a headlock you push your power into him, keeping his body immobile focusing on his left arm. Rhodes and Banner join moments later, adding their strength to restrain this creature. 

Curiously, you realize that you don’t feel the pull of the stones. 

Thor arrives as planned, severing the gauntlet from Thanos’ body, hand and all. 

You release your hold on him, your power lifting the gauntlet, devoid of stones into the air. 

“No,” you breathe, an indescribable dread beginning to fill your chest. 

“Where are they?” Steve demands. Thanos only groans.

“Answer him!” Carol barks tightening her grip on his throat. 

“The universe required correction,” Thanos wheezes. “After that, the stones served no purpose…” His gaze falls to you, “Beyond temptation.” You shiver, stepping back, letting the empty gauntlet fall to the floor. 

Bruce rushes Thanos but you can hardly hear them. The room seems smaller, hotter. Your ears begin to ring, your power throbbing through your body.  

“Where are the stones?” Natasha asks in a trembling voice.

“They’re gone,” he huffs, “reduced to atoms.” 

The shock of his statement tears through all of you, a near tangible wave. 

It only holds you for a breath. 

Atoms. 

Silently you allow your power to sink into the ground beneath you. Just like on earth you can go deeper, deeper until you can feel the fabric of everything. 

You could fix this. You would fix this. 

-

Steve glances at your retreating form. He can’t blame you for leaving, no matter how much he wants to.  

The small hut is immensely oppressive suddenly. Just breathing gets harder with each second. He hadn’t had a panic attack since 1943, he didn’t think he was still capable. But right now he felt that familiar rapid pace of his heart, the tightness in his chest… It blurs the voices around him, everything growing staticky until- 

With a roar Thor severs Thanos’ head from his body in one clean swing. 

He begins to feel the panic recede to make room for the shock. Still he doesn’t move.  

“What now?” Natasha croaks. 

Steve can’t even attempt a response. Rocket begins to rummage somewhere behind him.  

“I know what I’m doing,” Steve turns to see him dragging a small crate. “Taking everything that’s worth anything.” He pries open the crate pulling out something that looks like a wine bottle. The metal top comes off with a tug and he drinks deep. “Including all his booze.”

“Toss me-” Thor is cut off by an ear-splitting crack of thunder.

“Y/N,” Steve says in barely a whisper, cold seeping into his bones. 

Carol beats him outside but he’s on her heels. The ground trembles before they spot you. 

“What the...” Carol breathes. Guilt and fear begin to stir in his gut. 

On the top of the mountain behind Thanos’ hut, you’re barely visible through a growing funnel of dust and cloud, but he knows it’s you. 

“Want a lift?” Carol asks, extending her hand. He nods. In seconds they’re on the mountain top just outside the wall of dust. Another loud boom shatters the otherwise quiet air.  

Visions of that night in Wakanda whir through his mind as he stares. He remembers your pain, your screams, he remembers the blood… and the blood that streamed from your eyes and nose when he and Okoye found you at your house… and- 

“Look out for her.” Bucky’s voice in his head once more. 

The risk didn’t matter. He had to get to you. If you tore him apart in the process so be it but he would not let another person he cared about die. 

He’d taken no more than a step in your direction when Carol’s hand tightened on his upper arm. He tries to pull free but she holds him fast. 

“Look,” Carol says with a note of almost reverence in her voice. 

“I see her! And I wo-” The words die on his tongue. 

In the air between your hands, he can just barely make out six points of light beginning to pulse like stars through the haze. Blue. Green. Yellow. 

“Dear god…” He doesn’t know what else to say. 

The others had arrived at some point, though Steve couldn’t say when. 

“Can… Is she that powerful?” Carol asks, seemingly unable to look away. 

“I don’t know,” Steve answers honestly. 

Natasha steps up beside him, “Steve should we-” Your scream cuts her off. 

This scream isn’t like the one in Wakanda. It’s not the unyielding cry of mourning. Rather this scream is one of barely restrained agony, a soldier shot on the battlefield who refuses to fall, quick but heavy. His breath leaves him in a woosh as he watches your knees hit the ground. 

Your bloody face contorts with pain. Yet your hands remain outstretched, the points of light between them beginning to form ghostly shapes. 

“They’ll destroy her,” Thor says.

Once more Steve pulls at Carol’s grip on him. 

He panics, “We can’t just let her-”

“No,” you say in a voice that is not quite your own. The awful, powerful, resonance of it shakes him to his marrow. “I can do this.”

“It’s her choice,” Rocket says. Steve looks to each person, eyes begging, but they all nod in agreement. 

Filaments of light rise from where the stones are forming like smoke. He notices as some caress your skin, leaving glowing paths in their wake. More and more touch your flesh, searing your outstretched fingertips in zigzagging lines. 

Your back arches, your hands tremble, you cry out once more as the stones flash vibrant and whole for one moment - so fast he could have imagined it - before they vanish. 

The small tremors that had been pulsing through the ground cease, the dust falls, the clouds dissipate. Suddenly the world seems darker and far too still. 

Then there was you, in the middle of a patch of barren ground, sitting back on your heels, body swaying. He’d swear your expression was serene. Something in him knows - even before you release a wet rasping cough, blood flowing from between your lips - that you’re lost. 

Everyone remains frozen, unsure of what to do. Until you collapse, breaking the spell. 

They all rush forward, pushing past him. 

He should help. 

Yet all he can do is watch, paralyzed by the realization that he isn’t sad or heartbroken over your loss. The only thing he feels toward you, as he watches Carol lift your prone form to search for a pulse she won't find, is jealousy.  

-

One moment there was only darkness. A foreign yet curiously familiar weightlessness. Peace.  

The next you felt like you’d swallowed a forest fire. 

Heat bloomed in your chest and abdomen. You could feel the flames crawling up the tiny veins of your eyes and nose, tingling in your skull. 

Gasping, you claw at your throat. Trying to understand what the fuck was happening. 

“You’re ok,” a woman’s voice said in soft tones. “You’re ok. It’ll pass.” It was Carol, one hand supported your back while the other pulled your hand away before you could break skin. 

“Xorrian Elixir, hurts like a bastard but works every time,” she offers you a weak smile. 

“What?” You croak. 

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “That was one hell of an effort.” 

An effort. 

Not a success. 

You go numb. 

Whatever Carol had given you may have healed your body, pulled you back from the brink, even pushed your power back into its box. But everything you had left, you’d poured into that last act, that final attempt to bring the stones back and reverse this nightmare, no matter the cost. 

And you’d failed. 

There was nothing left. 

Natasha lays a hand on your shoulder, “We’re here.” It takes you a moment to realize what she means. Honestly, you didn’t even remember getting on the ship… 

You follow her out in a fog and stand a few paces away from the others numbly staring into the night sky when suddenly you find yourself tumbling through the air. 

In your present state, you don’t know how to react consciously, but your power catches you before your face meets the ground, acting like a cushion. A memory of Bucky tingles in your mind before it’s interrupted by a voice.

“Get up!” A rough voice, dripping with rage, bellows. 

It doesn’t register as Steve. Only when you roll over, leaning up on your forearms do you realize. His face looms over you, twisted with a dangerous cocktail of emotions. 

“Get up!” His hands grip your jacket, the fabric beginning to tear as he lifts you to your feet. Breaking his grip, you stumble back, unsure what to make of the situation. 

“What the-” You don’t get to finish. 

Steve’s fist cracks against your jaw sending you reeling for a split second. It wasn’t a full-force hit, you sparred with him enough to know that. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. 

Your power pulses over your skin just once, tingling like static. A flicker of emotion rises in your chest, pushing back on the hopeless void just a bit.

“If you’re gonna hit me, Rogers,” you spit blood from where your cheek and teeth met, “don’t insult me by holding back.” 

Roaring, he charges you. 

Everything after that was a blur. 

As it used to do years ago your power fled in the throws of a fight, that part of your mind shuttering itself lest you lose control. You preferred that. True, he was stronger than you, so your power would have helped, but you were quick, smaller, and Bucky had taught you well.  

You pay no mind to the shouts from the others to stop. Blow after blow you just keep going. Neither of you concerned about the consequences. 

Because this felt… good. There was no denying that. The taste of blood and sweat and adrenaline on your tongue. 

“What did you think you were doing?!” He managed to get you in a lock, pinning your arms against your back with your face in the dirt. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask managing to work yourself free. 

“On that fucking mountain. What the hell-” You cut him off with a solid punch to the gut. 

“He said he reduced them to atoms.” It made sense enough to you. 

“And?!” He recovers but you pivot away from his next blow. “Since when can you-”

“Do you not remember Wakanda? Big fucking crater in the ground?"

You continue to dodge one another’s volleys. 

He shakes his head, “You could have died!” Steve somersaults, landing a kick to your shoulder that you weren’t sure didn’t dislocate it. You hiss in pain. 

“So what if I did?” Grimacing you force the join back, nearly screaming. He seems to notice and for the first time, you see his resolve melt, a glimmer of concern showing. 

“One life-” you pant.

“Your life, Y/N!” 

“My life for trillions.” You get his feet from under him, pinning his arms to the ground with your knees. “Same math you did in 1945.” 

He throws you off and you land in a kneeling position. White-hot rage colors his expression. 

“Oh,” you laugh bitterly, “I forgot, Steve Rogers, is the only one who gets to make the sacrifice play right?!” 

Time blurs. It may have been thirty seconds or maybe an hour before you have Steve on the ground once more, his throat between your thighs. You fight with screaming muscles to keep him down. 

“What was I supposed to tell him?” He wheezes.

The question throws your equilibrium, causing you to lose your hold. He sucks in a raspy breath, grips your thighs, lifting you up off the ground and tossing you over his head. 

You expect your power to cushion you but it doesn’t. Your hands burn as they catch your fall, the ground tearing at the skin. 

Anticipating his next move you roll to the side, barely avoiding the body blow he was about to land. He rolls in the opposite direction from you. 

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” he says as he stands, venom in his voice. 

“What?”

 It doesn’t matter because you’re a failure twice over, a voice in your head whispers. But you want him to say it, want someone to recognize it, to hold you accountable for your weakness. 

“You’re clearly moving on just fine,” he spits. You freeze mid-lunge, gaping at him. 

His voice drops low, “Call me old fashioned, but I figured you’d mourn your husband a little longer before having midnight trists in the kitchen.”

The power that had evaded you comes back in a tidal wave. It crackles beneath your skull, humming in your veins. For a breath, it’s overwhelming, the world, and its multitude of layers rising in your awareness. Then it settles just enough for you to gain control and slam it into Steve.

He sucks in a breath as your power constricts him. 

“How dare you,” you say, so low you don’t know if he can hear. You squeeze, feeling tiny blood vessels burst under his skin. 

“Do it,” he huffs, eyes locked on yours. “Do. It.” His anger slips from him with each forced breath replaced by desperation. 

You release him and he stumbles back. 

“We’re not finished, Y/N!” He screams at you as you turn away. Even without your eyes on him, you feel his rapid approach. 

With a thought you lift him from the ground in mid-stride, taking his body several feet into the air before slamming him back down with ground-shaking force. 

“Yes, we are,” you say without looking back.

TAGS

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[arcanescholar]

Hard to Find the Right Words Ch. 2

Omori Post True Good Ending Spoilers. Chapter 1 here

Sometimes you just need to vibe with your friend(?)

The sun hung high and beat down with its telltale brutal heat with not a cloud in the sky to block its fury. Summer was starting to reach its full swing and god damn it she did not wanna put up with the judgy sky orb’s bullshit today. Ugh, riding out to the hospital on her bike at night trying to follow the ambulance’s route was a pain in the ass already that left her legs feeling way too damn sore, and piling on with this was just over kill damn it.

… Huh. Shit, that’s probably why her knees gave out back in Basil’s hospital room. Come to think of it, damn, she should’ve snagged some bandages while she was there, they were all in Sunny’s pocket-

She screeches to a halt, barely stopping herself from running smack into some younger elementary school kids that take one look at her haggard, emotionally exhausted expression and…

Scream.

Then run away, tripping over themselves because the scary nail-bat lady was here to eat their faces.

…

After a bit of fumbling, she yanks her phone out of her pocket and turns the busted front facing camera on to take a better look at her face…

She slept on a visitor’s couch last night, hadn’t had breakfast, just went through one of the most emotionally harrowing nights of her life, then one of the most emotionally harrowing mornings, and now just did what felt like a half and hour of hard pedaling to make it to her planned meet up with Kim cause her sense of time estimation fucking sucks.

“… I look terrible, ugh.”

First thing she’s gonna do, she thinks, is dunk her sore legs in a lake once she gets to the park, but before that, she takes off her jacket, tying the sleeves tight around her waist, leaving her in her favorite crop top to vent some heat off before getting back to pedaling.

The rest of the ride is a bit easier thankfully, a familiar coast through familiar streets and under familiar trees with familiar shade. She passes by the curb that the group first comforted her on along the way, past where she had her picture taken in her favorite coat and decided that she wanted to dye her hair pink one day, past where Kim first snagged her by the hand and dragged her along to meet the Hooligans-

Haahhh…

She coasts down a small hill, letting the bike carry her where it pleases for a bit, hair billowing behind her, standing up a bit on its aged frame and just letting the moment wash over her. She wishes she didn’t leave her headphones at home, this was a pretty perfect moment to just play something dramatic y’know?

But, the ride eventually comes to a stop, as she arrives at the park. The kids were already playing out in force, and that nice garbage collector lady was set up with her stand like always, but Aubrey didn’t have time to snag much extra cash, she was already late for meeting up with Kim by like ten minutes-

“Aubreeeeeey!”

Speak of the devil

“Hah… Hah… Hah…!”

Kim struggles over on her bike, panting for breath-

“Hey.”

“Sorry…! Mikhael- uh, the MAVERICK got in trouble with some girls he was supposed to pay cause he forgot he left his wallet at home so I had to bike back and forth to snag it for him, or else he would’ve followed me here whining the whole time! I’m not too late am I?”

“Nah, I just showed up too.”

“So, uh…! What did you wanna do?”

“…”

Aubrey turns without a word, stepping off of her bike and walking to the back of the park, shuffling her way across the verdant, well kept grass.

Come to think of it, there was way less trash around than before, and with how much she saw Sunny running around town…

Jeez, did he really pick up most of this with Kel? Damn pair of goody two shoes-

Is what she almost thinks, but, after the past few days, it’s kind of hard for her to really make fun of them for it. It’s honestly kind of impressive.

She remembers how many flowers were set up in Sunny’s hospital room in that moment while they waited for him to wake up… How many well wishes and thank you notes sprawled across the tables and some even on the floor itself because of how much space was taken up. For a boy that hadn’t shown his face in maybe four years, that looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in just about as long, that seemed more like a mystery than an actual person, he really…

…

Was it really good? Was it something he did out of kindness? Was it one last hurrah to try to apologize for what he did to Mari? Aubrey can’t wrap her head around his headspace, and that thought is enough to make her punch her hand against a tree with enough force to shake its leaves… That or the breeze was really well timed-

“Aubreeeey…! I can’t help out if you don’t even talk to me y’know!”

Kim grumbles as she manages to catch up, walking alongside her best friend with the canopy of trees overhead shading them from the sunlight.

As Aubrey turns her head, she takes a moment to stare at her friend, watching the way the sunlight dances across her skin as it peeks out from the trees to light her up the way her smile lit up Aubrey’s worst days.

Kim’s expression was that perfect mix of annoyed and genuinely worried, the kind that makes you feel bad for bringing up a problem in the first place but yanks all your guts out onto the floor to get it settled already, her eyes resolute and determined to get to the bottom of what was happening. Was this her way of apologizing for leaving her behind with Sunny, Kel, and Basil at the lake…?

“… Hhhffffhhhit’sallfuckedup.” Aubrey finally groans, stepping forward into the hidden spot behind the park, the lake’s water glistening in the sunlight, the old statue’s flowers swaying in the breeze, and the same abandoned picnic basket and blanket. Someone really needs to clean that up damn it, but, the blanket makes for a nice place to sit kinda.

She dumps her bike off to the side with more force than she means to, Kim following suit. The pair share a quick look and a nod of understanding before popping off their shoes, their socks, rolling up pants legs in Kim’s case.

They walk together and sit by the edge of the lake, leaving the stuff they took off to the side, dumped carelessly in the grass, dunking their legs into the cool water with a harmonized sigh of relief, a mirrored gesture of leaning back to rest their palms against the grass before flopping onto their backs in near perfect sync, and finally taking in a deep breath to just bring themselves back into the moment.

Without a word, Kim pulls out her phone and a pair of headphones, offering one up to Aubrey that she takes with no hesitation, stuffing it into her ear and staring up at the clouds as music plays loud enough to hear but quiet enough to just let them… Vibe, is the word they’d both use for it.

For a few minutes they lay there, sharing a song, a mellow guitar and the tapping of a drumstick against a closed hi-hat washing over them.

The beach might be out of their reach right now, but sound waves’ll make a good substitute.

Kurayami de yorisou hibi

“… Sunny lost his eye.”

“Holy shit…”

Bokura ni wa beddo mo nai

“Dunno if Basil’s woken up yet either, but… Sunny told us, a little bit about what happened when Mari died.”

“…”

Nai kedo…

“… Sorry I’ve been so cagey and quiet and stuff lately.” She murmurs, rolling over onto her side to look at Kim more properly, her friend rolling over too, her glasses getting shoved slightly till she just takes them off and sets them off to the side.

“I dunno what’s goin’ on but it seems like it’s really heavy… After what went on with your mom and dad though? Feels like you can tell me… well… Just about anything right? After you shut us out and I had to call those three over to your place I started really worrying you were gonna dip back into a screwed up place again.”

“… Gonna be honest… I almost was.”

Kimi waaaa, ima tashika niii-

“But?”

“… But, I managed to realize some important stuff, I think. About… About Mari. About Sunny, Kel, Hero, you, all of our friends.”

Soba de…!

“… I missed them so much it hurt. I missed everything so much that it ached.”

Hohoemu

“And, when I couldn’t do anything about that ache, I turned that anger out on nearly everything around me. If it weren’t for you and the other Hooligans I think I would’ve turned out even worse…”

“Aubrey…”

Sawarasetari shinai

Kurutta koi to

Sashichigaete mo ii nda

Zenbu uketomeru

“… Sunny pushed Mari down the stairs of their home in the middle of a huge argument between them after he broke his violin.” She murmurs, tears starting to trickle down her face, cresting over the bridge of her nose and spilling onto the grass and dirt.

“Holy shit-“

“But… I… No matter what I do I just can’t think to be mad at him anymore.”

Beautiful morning with you

Itsuka, utaitai na

Beautiful morning with you

Kimi to hikari abite

“After I pushed Basil into a lake… Kicked off this whole mess of yesterday and today, I guess it made me realize how precious stuff is.”

“How do you mean?”

“That like… If Basil died right there… And Sunny with him? If he and Sunny drowned in the lake, even if I somehow ‘got away with it’, I’d… I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself.”

“…”

“When it happened I was so freaked out I couldn’t even move, let alone try to rescue him. My head twisted to all sorts of places, like, what should I do to get away if they both die. About how I’d have to run away from town, dye my hair a different color, get as far as I can and never look back.”

Sabishisa wa teguchi wo kae

“That’s… heavy.” Kim murmurs, finding it hard to bring herself to say anything else, but…

Maybe, in a moment like this, there’s nothing she could say. Nothing she could do, except be here in this moment to be someone Aubrey could talk to, reaching out in a moment of vulnerable affection to squeeze her close, one hand resting at the small of her back, and the other pressing against the back of her head, running her fingers through the girl’s hair…

Nando demo ai ni kuru

“So, I guess I get it now. Why he hid away in his home for so many years. Why he took so long to tell us until it exploded like that. Why they did something so… dumbfuck stupid like trying to make it look like Mari killed herself… I get it cause, I think I would’ve done the same thing if we weren’t lucky and had Hero there to save them both, and hating Sunny over it would make me a hypocrite.”

“And we both know how much you hate those…”

Kuru kedo

Futari ikudo to naku

“… I’m gonna try to be better than I was a few days ago. Better than I was a few years ago. Maybe this is just me trying to make excuses and wriggle my way out of the dumb stuff I’ve done but, I want to be there for them the way you were there for me. The way you and the others were, when I had nowhere else to go, so… Thanks Kim.”

“Heh… S’ what I’m here for Aubrey.”

Koko de unadzuite

The pair hold up their hands, and bump their fists in time with the song’s beat picking up, and just in time for-

“AH! There they are! Hahahaha, of course THE MAVERICK would know the right way-”

“Hey sis! Jeez, where were you two, we were wondering what happened!”

“Yeah! Did that smelly Kel and weird Mystery Boy with the knife do something to you after all?! I’ll give ‘em a dropkick that’ll send ‘em flying!”

“… sorry, t-that we weren’t there when… things went really bad…”

Furimuitari sinai

Sodatta ai ni!

Kizusuitatte ii nda

Mou

Modoranai

The Hooligans damn near bum rush the pair, dog piling on them both with muffled shouts in faux-protest as the group becomes a tangled mess of limbs, laughs, and little room for escape.

Beautiful morning with you!

Itsuka! Wakaritai na!

Beautiful morning with you

Bokura umarete kita koto!

“Hey, hey, Charlene brought some egg sandwiches from home that her mom made-” Angel grins at the top of the pile, resting on his side and supporting his head with his hand.

“M-mh… Um… I… had a feeling you missed breakfast again, so, I got worried… I was gonna bring them to the hospital but… when I called to ask where you were they said you were gone…” Charlene explains with her usual quiet voice, this time tinged with affection and worry as she… stands off to the side, feeling a bit too self conscious to dog pile but still holding both Kim and Aubrey’s hands.

“Yeah… After what happened with Basil by the lake and the stuff that went down at his place with him and the other guy, and that day you weren’t answering your door, all of us sorta got together and talked a bit…” Vance continued, directly hugging the pair of girls with a big, doofy grin.

“And of course, I, in my infinite wisdom as The Maverick made the wonderful declaration that we reaffirm our bond as the glorious, Hellacious Hooligans of Faraway Town! Our bonds of brother and sisterhood won’t be shaken like that again, this, I promise! What do you think ladies? Falling for me yet?~”

“shpk lke thhgh hhhhghnn nhhh whhll kll yu-”

“Hmmm? Say that again Aubrey?”

Vance shuffles off just enough to let the girls breathe again, the pair simultaneously sucking in a breath before shouting at the same time with big grins on their faces.

“”Speak like that again and we’ll kill ya!””

In the tackle-hugging dog pile rush, Kim’s headphones got unplugged, and the play button on the song got butt-pressed while it was auto based, but as the Maverick lets loose a yelp and topples off of the pile with only Charlene to catch him, with a laugh from the rest of the group, the rest of the song they were listening to finally gets to finish.

Promises like these might not always stand the test of time, Aubrey knew that for a fact. They can wither and fail and break and shatter in your hands faster than she can blink, but now…?

Beautiful morning with you

Itsuka, utaitai na

Beautiful morning with you

Kimi to hikari abite

Beautiful morning with you!

Isumo, kanjitai na!

Beautiful morning with you!!!

Kimi to, deaeta koto!

Now she kinda understands why Kel was so damn determined.

Even if it doesn’t last forever, even if it doesn’t work out, moments like this are worth fighting for.

She just wishes, in some part of her chest, that it hadn’t taken her so long to realize…

… … …

The hours pass, the sun raises as high as it can be before finally beginning its descent. The rest of Aubrey’s morning and afternoon was spent talking with her friends, practicing her bat swing on any random tree branches they could snap off and throw. Turns out Angel was nice enough to snag her bat for her on the way over too, and Bun-Bun…

Well, Charlene barely fit through the ladder hatch, but, Bun-Bun had a nice, temporary home at her place while Aubrey had to manage everything that happened last night and couldn’t go home to check on her and play with her. It’s a good thing she’s so gentle.

Against her better instincts, she uses her phone’s crappy, busted-ass camera to snag a picture here and there as they spend the day.

Angel and THE MAVERICK practicing dumb poses at each other, Charlene crouching nearby some flowers to see whether or not she wanted to pick them or leave them be to grow on their own, Vance and Kim getting into thumb wrestling matches to figure out how they’d split the last of their candy haul…

They were messy, unprofessional, usually badly focused, and the camera’s issues made it difficult as shit to call them anything close to “good”, but, they were hers…

And as the sun dredged low, and as the group had to split up to go back to their parents’ places for dinner time, that was good enough.

Kim and Aubrey are the last pair left alone once everything is said and done for the day, standing next to their respective rides as the distant laughs, jokes, and banter of the rest of the group echo out into the distance.

“… Hey Kim? ‘Fore I go… I just…”

“Yeah, Aubrey?”

“… Thanks. For spending time with me today. For the music and stuff too.”

“I had a feeling you forgot your headphones with everything that happened. Glad I turned out to be right!~”

“… Yeah…”

“Hey, one last thing before we split off for the day!”

“Huh- Eh?!”

With barely any time to react, Kim sweeps an arm around Aubrey, squeezing he close and tight while lifting her own phone up into the air, the relatively undamaged thing snapping a picture of Kim sticking her tongue out and Aubrey’s shocked, red faced blush at being hugged outta nowhere like that before Kim gives the barely taller girl a big squeezing hug, stuffing her phone into her pocket and damn near lifting Aubrey off the ground.

“Picture for picture, send me some of the stuff you tried to sneak pictures of!~ And... I’m not gonna make the same mistake of leavin’ you to deal with all that alone again, okay? I’m still not good at this kinda nerdy touchy feely feelings stuff, but…”

She pulls away, pushing up her glasses with one hand and scratching the back of her head with the other in an attempt to hide her blush at trying to throw up this kind of bravado outta nowhere-

“Th… The candy doesn’t taste right, if you’re not happy, or something!”

“… Kim that might be the cheesiest shit you’ve ever said in your life..”

“Hey-”

“But… Thank you. I think… I’ll be fine, just for now. If anything else comes up, I’ll tell you, okay? Right now, I gotta meet up with Kel and follow up with him on what we’re supposed to do next.”

“Best of luck with your mission, comrade.”

The pair smack their hands together for a firm high five before going their separate ways.

For now…

She had some god damn pizza to get, and a guy too lovably foolish to give up on people to share it with.

[writingsoftheunderworld]

Hey, could you do a request please where Damon and the reader have been going out for like a really really long time, and eventually he gets sick of saving the world and stuff and worried about her getting dragged in so he goest to live with her full time 💖💖

Hey, hope this fits what you wanted, if not I’m more than happy to go for an alternative to this. This is what came to mind when I read your ask, do let me know if you enjoyed it.

They’d met by pure chance in New York. She’d been out with a couple of friends, dancing, drinking, enjoying herself, and he’d been looking for information. She’d met his companion first, she remembers, the tall blonde isolated in the corner, dispassionate and lying in wait for him to return having just scared off one of the brave souls that tried to get with her that night. Y/N recalls scowling at the blondes’ aggression, but grudgingly admitting to a small amount of admiration as well when she saw him return, all leather and baby blues and a jaw you could cut diamond on. She’d been transfixed, but didn’t allow it to wallow in her mind for long as she was swept by the mass of dancing people around her and the buzz of alcohol mixed with blood she’d been nursing. They hadn’t talked that night. And he hadn’t seen her.

The following morning she woke up on one of the bars, her hand dangling, a stain of what she thought was tequila on her jeans. She groaned and slowly got up, being a vampire always surprised her with random they pain they experienced was, she could get a sore back from sleeping badly, but no hangover. She could have her head pounding due to daylight, but no problem walking off a hole in her stomach. She was always amused by it, had been since she’d turned in the 1700s. But it kept her on her toes and reminded her of her mortality enough to make things fun. She was checking her phone, to assure herself that her few human friends hadn’t ended up eaten in the flurry of last night when the loud banking of fists on metal echoed through the empty bar. She went to the roof, a small nod to the owner for once more allowing her to pass out here as she went. The endless blue was the first thing she saw, the scowl was the second. The words only ever registered after he’d already left, phone in hand, angry gesturing and words following behind him. The owner of the bar was how she learned the name.

They didn’t meet until some years later, once more by pure chance. She’d been running from her former sire, who she’d bet her life on had been dead for the past 15 years when they literally bumped into each other. She’d almost forgotten who he was, and likely would’ve just run passed and never looked back if he hadn’t pulled her to him, sped them to the nearest building and let the weirdo with a crossbow take down her sire, the weirdo with a crossbow that he was chasing and tried to kill both of them. Almost succeeded too, as he’d been hit several times with a vervain soaked arrow that knocked him out. As she patched him up, and demanded answers in exchange for the huntress, Y/N found out exactly how true the rumours about Mystic Falls were and she was intrigued. She went with him for the next few months, hoping for some break in her usual monotony. She did this every couple of decades, found an adventure to latch onto until she grew bored and returned to her everyday life. She hadn’t expected to fall for him, she certainly hadn’t expected for him to fall for her. And yet that’s exactly what happened, a near death experience ending with him kissing her so thoroughly she actually was left breathless.

But her drive for adventure faded as quickly as it came, as it always did and she returned to her small apartment in New York as their relationship only grew stronger. They didn’t get married since what was a small piece of paper to people that lived centuries, but they may as well have been, after 7 years of essentially living together. It would have been perfect, except he was still imbedded in the fabric that made Mystic Falls the bedrock of supernatural activity it was and he its reluctant protector. She didn’t mind, not at all, except for when he returned home looking just a little bit more broken than before, but that was fine too since she had no problem reminding him what it meant to be whole and how to piece himself together again. And she understood. Mystic Falls was his home, it held his precious people, exactly like how New York held her precious people. But Damon, oh he had doubts. The world kept getting broken for his home town rippling outward and the more supernaturals around the town the higher the stakes. He’d worried before Y/N that he might die in one of the schemes to save the fucking town from the newest bad guy. He’d never worried about her. Or better said he never had to worry about her since she didn’t get involved usually.

And then Cade happened. And Hell. And Y/N couldn’t let him face that alone so she came with. It was the first time she got seriously hurt. So hurt he worried she might die. So hurt Bonnie had had to intervene and help, even despite the fact that Bonnie herself had almost died. And the danger wasn’t even over yet. Damon had felt that kind of fear only once before in his life and that was when Stefan had been taken by the tomb vampires. And even then it hadn’t reached the heights he felt now. He was powerless to help her, all he could do was remain at her side and hope she’d awaken. Bonnie had been hopeful and the rest of their small gang had dealt with the remaining danger, but Y/N didn’t wake for three more days. It was that hell scape, those three long harrowing days that made up his mind. He’d already talked to Bonnie about leaving, but that had been for her benefit, he never expected to ever catch a break from the constant death that Mystic Falls seemed to bring with it. But three days looking at the woman he loved, the woman who for all other intents and purposes could and had outlived him lying pale and unmoving because of him made him rethink how much he cared whether Mystic Falls burned to the ground or not and found that he couldn’t care less if the ground literally opened up and swallowed this cursed town whole if she was safe.

When she woke up, she knew something had changed in Damon, but she hadn’t realized what until he packed all his belonging from his family home and followed her back to her apartment. Not until another crisis befell Mystic Falls and all he did was help with the planning and then lay down next to her. To say she was surprised was an understatement. She’d long since made peace with the fact that she could only have him half of the time, that saving the world was always going to loom behind a corner and he’d chase it while she waited with her heart crumbling for him to return to her alive. But here he was, his clothes in their closet, his car in the garage, his books on the shelves and his life strewn about the apartment, lying with his head in her lap watching a comedy while somewhere in Mystic Falls new saviours fought. He still was tied to the town, still helped save the world, but he was there, with her, while someone else put their life on the line. Slowly, the pieces he’d lost along the way made way for new ones to replace them and they lived. And if adventure wanted to knock on her door every once in a while, well then Damon had a cursed town he called home that she could visit. But not for a while yet. For now she was content with their weekly date night and living their lives. There were still days they barely saw each other, be that because her friends dragged her away or because his did, but the fear that had been there in each other’s absence was gone. 

[missedstations]

“October” - Louise Glück

1. Is it winter again, is it cold again, didn't Frank just slip on the ice, didn't he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted didn't the night end, didn't the melting ice flood the narrow gutters wasn't my body rescued, wasn't it safe didn't the scar form, invisible above the injury terror and cold, didn't they just end, wasn't the back garden harrowed and planted— I remember how the earth felt, red and dense, in stiff rows, weren't the seeds planted, didn't vines climb the south wall I can't hear your voice for the wind's cries, whistling over the bare ground I no longer care what sound it makes when was I silenced, when did it first seem pointless to describe that sound what it sounds like can't change what it is— didn't the night end, wasn't the earth safe when it was planted didn't we plant the seeds, weren't we necessary to the earth, the vines, were they harvested? 2. Summer after summer has ended, balm after violence: it does me no good to be good to me now; violence has changed me. Daybreak. The low hills shine ochre and fire, even the fields shine. I know what I see; sun that could be the August sun, returning everything that was taken away— You hear this voice? This is my mind’s voice; you can’t touch my body now. It has changed once, it has hardened, don’t ask it to respond again. A day like a day in summer. Exceptionally still. The long shadows of the maples nearly mauve on the gravel paths. And in the evening, warmth. Night like a night in summer. It does me no good; violence has changed me. My body has grown cold like the stripped fields; now there is only my mind, cautious and wary, with the sense it is being tested. Once more, the sun rises as it rose in summer; bounty, balm after violence. Balm after the leaves have changed, after the fields have been harvested and turned. Tell me this is the future, I won’t believe you. Tell me I’m living, I won’t believe you. 3. Snow had fallen. I remember music from an open window. Come to me, said the world. This is not to say it spoke in exact sentences but that I perceived beauty in this manner. Sunrise. A film of moisture on each living thing. Pools of cold light formed in the gutters. I stood at the doorway, ridiculous as it now seems. What others found in art, I found in nature. What others found in human love, I found in nature. Very simple. But there was no voice there. Winter was over. In the thawed dirt, bits of green were showing. Come to me, said the world. I was standing in my wool coat at a kind of bright portal— I can finally say long ago; it gives me considerable pleasure. Beauty the healer, the teacher— death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life. 4. The light has changed; middle C is tuned darker now. And the songs of morning sound over-rehearsed. This is the light of autumn, not the light of spring. The light of autumn: you will not be spared. The songs have changed; the unspeakable has entered them. This is the light of autumn, not the light that says I am reborn. Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered. This is the present, an allegory of waste. So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate: the ideal burns in you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart. The songs have changed, but really they are still quite beautiful. They have been concentrated in a smaller space, the space of the mind. They are dark, now, with desolation and anguish. And yet the notes recur. They hover oddly in anticipation of silence. The ear gets used to them. The eye gets used to disappearances. You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared. A wind has come and gone, taking apart the mind; it has left in its wake a strange lucidity. How privileged you are, to be passionately clinging to what you love; the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you. Maestoso, doloroso: This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. Surely it is a privilege to approach the end still believing in something. 5. It is true there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use. I am at work, though I am silent. The bland misery of the world bounds us on either side, an alley lined with trees; we are companions here, not speaking, each with his own thoughts; behind the trees, iron gates of the private houses, the shuttered rooms somehow deserted, abandoned, as though it were the artist’s duty to create hope, but out of what? what? the word itself false, a device to refute perception— At the intersection, ornamental lights of the season. I was young here. Riding the subway with my small book as though to defend myself against the same world: you are not alone, the poem said, in the dark tunnel. 6. The brightness of the day becomes the brightness of the night; the fire becomes the mirror. My friend the earth is bitter; I think sunlight has failed her. Bitter or weary, it is hard to say. Between herself and the sun, something has ended. She wants, now, to be left alone; I think we must give up turning to her for affirmation. Above the fields, above the roofs of the village houses, the brilliance that made all life possible becomes the cold stars. Lie still and watch: they give nothing but ask nothing. From within the earth’s bitter disgrace, coldness and barrenness my friend the moon rises: she is beautiful tonight, but when is she not beautiful?

[megalony]

Fatal attraction- Part 7

This is the next part in my Royal! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying, thank you for the feedback it’s always nice to hear your views and comments.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Series taglist: @joseph-mozzerella @pippin248 @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @lilharms

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in an arranged marriage to form an alliance and they both want to make this marriage work. But when they have to get to know each other and there is a power play in their marriage, things aren’t going to be easy.

Enjoy.

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Pulling her cardigan a little tighter around her frame to keep out the cold air in the room, (Y/n) folded her arms over her chest as her head leaned to the side. Her eyes were creased from both the tiredness washing over her and the affectionate smile forming on her lips. The adjoining room she had walked into only had the dim burnt orange glow of the table lamp lighting up the left corner of the room which (Y/n) was thankful for. If the lights had been turned on her eyes would not have adjusted very well to the blazing beams of light that spared no shadow.

With a sigh, (Y/n) padded across the carpeted floor until she was stood inches from the chair Ben was sitting in with his back to her. She took a guess that he was too absorbed in his reading to notice that she was stood behind him.

Continuing to stay silent, (Y/n) unravelled her arms from her chest and leaned forward until she could wrap her arms around Ben's shoulders, resting her chin on his shoulder. She pressed her lips together to smother a chuckle when she felt how Ben shuddered and his arms jerked from the shock since he clearly thought he was alone.

Ben didn't pull his eyes away from the paper he was holding in his left hand but he moved his free hand up to rest over (Y/n)'s that was hanging around his neck. He stroked his thumb over the back of his hand as (Y/n) watched how quickly his eyes darted from left to right to read the information on the page. It marvelled (Y/n) how quickly Ben could read documents or books, he could read two or even three pages of a book before (Y/n) had even read one. Sometimes when he was going through the documents for his meetings, (Y/n) was sure he simply skimmed them and didn't take all of the information in. He remembered the important things and left out the rest but if it was a method that worked, (Y/n) wouldn't judge.

When he was finished with the paper in his hand, Ben placed it down back in the folder it came from before he finally turned his head to the left to look at (Y/n). His eyes were bleak and were slightly red and the way he bit down on the corner of his lip and squinted suggested he had a headache.

"It's late, and you have a meeting tomorrow." (Y/n) whispered the words quietly as not to break the calming atmosphere surrounding them both.

"I had to finish those for the meeting that'll probably kill me from boredom tomorrow." Ben picked up the file and weakly threw it to the other side of the desk before he leaned back in his chair. There wouldn't have been enough time in the morning to read all of the files ready to go to the meeting, lest he wanted to go unprepared and have everyone walk him through it which would take a lot longer. He didn't know how much of that information he would remember by morning but he was taking the chance of forgetting.

"Then there's the party tomorrow evening." A small smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips as she watched Ben's reaction show he had clearly forgotten that little fact. His lips curved down and his eyes fell closed as a groan fell from his parted lips.

Parties were certainly not Ben's thing, he had made a big point of leaving their wedding party very early and he did tell (Y/n) he meant no disrespect at the time, he just couldn't stand parties. He didn't like dancing, that was one of the lessons he hated having when he was growing up and he didn't like the rowdy atmosphere or the many people he didn't know nor care to know. People flaunted themselves about like peacocks and were two faced in Ben's opinion, he had no time for such events. But he was King and it was expected of him to turn up, he had used up the excuse of being ill or too busy over the past few months he had been with (Y/n). He couldn't miss this one as well.

"One hour of that and then I'm leaving, I mean it." Ben didn't sound like he was convincing himself, let alone (Y/n) but she smiled and nodded her head anyway.

"Do you think it'd be wrong of me not to wear a dress?" (Y/n) pondered quietly as Ben reached up so both his hands were holding hers.

(Y/n) didn't care for wearing lavish or extravagant dresses, they weren't her style and even when she was wearing a plain and simple dress, it didn't feel as comfortable as when she wore leggings or trousers or a jumpsuit. (Y/n) would rather be comfortable yet look out of place in trousers than wear a dress and sit and panic through the whole night about if it looked okay and how she didn't feel comfortable or herself. (Y/n) knew her panic would be misplaced because more people would look at her if she wasn't wearing a dress whereas if she wore a dress they wouldn't bat an eyelid but she would panic more.

"Why not? Wear whatever you like, love, you look good in anything." Ben pressed his lips into a line as he lightly shook his head. He knew (Y/n) and him were opposites in the sense of worry and panic because Ben was hardwired not to worry about what anyone else thought. He wore what he liked and said what he pleased and he couldn't find the will to panic about anyone's reactions.

But he knew (Y/n) panicked and therefore he did try to understand and help but the only advice he could give was for (Y/n) to wear what she pleased. She had no obligation to wear something anyone else wanted her to wear or to try and impress or blend in, it was up to her what she wanted to wear and what made her comfortable.

(Y/n) hummed in response, already trying to picture the clothes she owned to try and picture something that would look good and not too out of place tomorrow night.

Tightening her arms around his neck a little, (Y/n) leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his reddened lips. It felt unreal to think that just two months ago or more, she wouldn't have dared to kiss Ben unless he made the first move. It also felt like a dream to think that two months ago she didn't know how she felt about him, whereas now (Y/n) knew with certainty that she loved him and that he loved her. This outcome was far better than what she had dreamed of expecting when she married Ben. Falling for her husband was something out of a story and it felt too good to be true when she had been preparing herself for a lifetime of an insufferable marriage.

When they parted, (Y/n) leaned down and buried her face in Ben's neck, pressing small open-mouthed kisses against his skin which caused him to shiver. (Y/n) closed her eyes and soon found her mind walking away without her, leading her on a path of random thoughts and worries about the party tomorrow.

"...nine months."

"Hmm?" Opening her eyes, (Y/n) pressed another kiss to the corner of Ben's jaw before she leaned her head around so she could see him. She had been too caught up in her thoughts that were taking her away to realise that Ben had started to speak.

"It's been nine months, since we got married." The moment the words passed through Ben's lips, he could see (Y/n)'s mind already starting to drift again.

There was a distant look in (Y/n)'s eyes as she couldn't quite believe it. It didn't feel like she had been living here for nine months, it felt like she had only been here for about four or five months at the most. But as (Y/n) started to think about the time and wonder where it had disappeared to, a shudder swarmed through her nerves when she realised it had been five months since the miscarriage.

Sometimes when (Y/n) thought about the miscarriage, it felt like a lifetime had passed since she was sitting on the bathroom floor in tears or since she had made the harrowing choice not to tell Ben anything about it. Other times, when she couldn't sleep late at night, it felt like the miscarriage had only been a week or even a day ago and she was still trying to recover. Time had certainly helped (Y/n) get things back in order and gain back the control she thought she had lost, but it didn't always heal everything.

The more days and weeks that flew by, the bigger the hole in (Y/n)'s heart became because she grew to regret her decision to keep it to herself. There were times during the night where (Y/n) felt the great urge to wake Ben up and spill everything to him. But she had to stop herself so many times from doing that because she couldn't risk it. (Y/n) and Ben were at such a great point in their relationship, they loved one another and they were closer than they ever had been. Telling Ben the secret she had chose to keep from him would break the relationship they had built and it would set them back.

There was no doubt in (Y/n)'s mind that Ben would be both angered and shattered to know she hadn't told him, he might feel betrayed. Telling him now would set things back and it would take months to get back to where they are now and (Y/n) couldn't risk it. The foundations were set and everything was okay, (Y/n) couldn't break all of that to then rebuild it and fix everything again.

"You're drifting off again, love. It hasn't been that bad, has it?" Ben moved his hand so he could hold (Y/n)'s chin and tilt her head so they were looking at one another again, allowing (Y/n) to see the lopsided smile on his features. He brushed his thumb over her jaw causing her lips to curve into a smile as she lightly shook her head.

"No, not bad at all."

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"You look lovely, stop panicking." Leaning over to his left, Ben whispered the words in a playful yet loving tone against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear, allowing him to feel the way she shivered at his words.

Ben's left hand was entangled with (Y/n)'s but his right elbow was resting on the arm of his chair leaving his arm bent upright which gave an air of elegance about him. Everyone could see the way he was rubbing his fingers and thumb together but no one but (Y/n) knew that it was a habit he had when he was either annoyed or desperate to leave. He didn't want to be at this party and the harder he started rubbing his fingers together like he was clicking his fingers, the more agitated (Y/n) knew he was getting.

To try and distract himself, Ben let his eyes wander the vast hall they were sitting in where the party was being held. He watched the crowd of people dancing and noticed who was good and who was stumbling over their own feet. He caught sight of his mother sitting on his right who looked like she was enjoying the music and the atmosphere. But what his eyes kept coming back to was his wife sitting next to him.

He couldn't help but notice how (Y/n) kept smoothing out every little crease and wrinkle in the very pale blue dress she had decided to wear. (Y/n) wanted to wear something different but the dress had been her ultimate choice because she knew she wouldn't be looked at differently and it was a thin material so it wouldn't drown her in sweat or make her feel constricted. It flowed just a little ways past her knees but it was comfortable, easy to move in and looked nice. Yet Ben kept seeing her smoothing it out and pulling at the hem of the dress like she was chasting herself for wearing it.

Ben personally thought (Y/n) looked lovely and everyone else surely must have thought so because no one was looking over in disapproval or sneaking glares her way. Not that anyone would dare with Ben sitting next to her looking like he was criticising everyone.

"Stop it." (Y/n) hissed, trying to bite down on her smile when Ben started to press gentle kisses against her jaw that were slowly trailing down to her neck. Moving her hand from her dress to Ben's shoulder, (Y/n) tried in vain to nudge him so he would sit straight again but he just stayed leaning against her. Casting her eyes around, (Y/n) felt her heartbeat picking up when she noticed people were beginning to look their way, no one was glaring or sniggering but (Y/n) still didn't like people looking at her. "Ben, people are staring."

"Let them stare, they're just jealous. You didn't mind me doing this last night." When Ben's teeth grazed against her neck (Y/n)'s chest constricted because she knew people could see exactly what he was doing and he was smirking against her neck.

"Ben!" (Y/n) hissed very quietly when he bit down on her neck and she reached her hand down to slap his thigh but it only made him laugh against her neck which sent her nerves sparking.

"Alright, fine. Give me a proper kiss and I'll stop I promise." Pulling away from her neck, Ben moved until his face was hovering in front of her own. He watched with a smile as (Y/n) glanced her eyes around before sighing and leaning forward to peck his lips. He leaned in again, clearly trying to steal another kiss but (Y/n) turned her head so he caught her cheek instead and she bit down on her cheek to stop herself from laughing or smirking. "That was rude."

Shifting in his seat, Ben moved so he was slouching ever so slightly as he bent his knees to the sides, spreading his legs as he leaned his head on his right hand. He looked rather casual as opposed to informal and he certainly wasn't sitting like a King but he had the arrogance to know that nobody was going to make a remark or question him until they went home.

Turning her head to the left after a while, (Y/n) managed a small smile and a nod to the man sitting next to her who had taken it upon himself to strike up a conversation. As if he couldn't tell already that (Y/n) wasn't interested in talking to him or anybody else here. But (Y/n) gave a few hums and tight-lipped smiles here and there so he didn't think she was being rude.

For once, (Y/n) actually wished she was in Ben's seat so she was sitting between him and his mother. At least that way she could feel a bit more at ease than how she did now with this man who was continuously leaning closer and closer as he talked. He was close enough now that (Y/n) could smell the wine on his breath and the grin on his face was not an inviting or pleasant one to look at.

"So, how are you enjoying the party your majesty?" The man (Y/n) was sure was some kind of Duke leaned even closer and his tone was one that sounded like he was mocking her in his drunken state.

When his hand settled on her arm (Y/n) pressed her lips together before she turned her head in Ben's direction. There was no way she was flinging this man's touch off and making a scene, she wanted no attention drawn to herself tonight. Saying nothing, (Y/n) inched her chair just a tiny bit closer to Ben's before she wrapped her hand around his upper arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, hoping both men on either side of her would get the silent messages she was trying to convey.

Ben's head turned from scanning the room to looking down at (Y/n) but the smile on his face slipped when he turned his head just a little more and noticed how close the Duke was and how his hand was on her arm. Raising a brow, Ben looked between the Duke and his hand until he seemed to understand and quickly retracted from (Y/n)'s side. He turned rather hastily to his other side so he could strike up a conversation with the man sitting next to him.

A small sigh left (Y/n)'s lips and she kept her head leaned on Ben's shoulder as she stared out at the people dancing in front of them. (Y/n) had thought about asking Ben to dance but she knew the answer would be no. Ben was a surprisingly good and agile dancer but he hated the activity so much that he rarely danced at any occasion. (Y/n) just knew he wouldn't want to tonight and she knew he was preparing excuses to leave the party in half an hour or so. He would stay for just long enough for people to notice his presence and it be acceptable before he left.

"May I, your majesty?"

Lifting her head, (Y/n) took a few seconds to work out who it was stood in front of her and what exactly he was asking before she realised his hand was outstretched towards her in a polite request to dance. (Y/n) couldn't recall the man's name, but she knew he was a Lord and she had talked to him at their wedding, he seemed kind enough.

Saying nothing, (Y/n) smiled and nodded, unravelling herself from Ben so she could stand but just as she pushed herself to stand up Ben leaned over.

"Mind your feet." He mumbled quietly with a knowing grin on his face, watching as (Y/n) bit her lip to stay composed and not smirk. Ben had watched the Lord when he was on the dance floor and as much as he liked to dance, he wasn't the best at it.

Small talk flowed between (Y/n) and Lewis, as she now knew the Lord to be called, but her eyes did keep darting down so she could avoid his missteps or little trips. He made so many tiny mistakes to the point that it almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose and when (Y/n) looked over to catch Ben's eyes, the cheeky bastard was grinning and raised his glass in her direction. He did warn her after all.

When the dance finished, (Y/n) did a quick curtsy and nod of her head at Lewis before she turned to hurry and find another dance partner. She wanted to do another dance but there was no way she was going to stand and keep guard of her feet and hold her partner up when he kept tripping over himself. When a man around (Y/n)'s height and age held his hand out, (Y/n) was quick to accept and allow him to pull her away from Lewis to a different area of the floor.

Matthew, as (Y/n) knew her new dance partner, was a lot better at dancing to the point (Y/n) could actually talk to him and not have to lead him through the dance or check where he was putting his feet. He was a little bit quicker than he should have been for the beat of the music but it didn't really matter, his small quips and jokes made for a pleasant dance partner. Although Ben was the one (Y/n) wanted to dance with, they'd danced once at their wedding and it had been awkward because they had to dance very close together and no small talk or smiles were shared. They'd danced at another party too and (Y/n) found she really liked dancing with him but Ben was very unwilling to do so.

"Lovey dancing, your majesty. I hope to do this again soon." With a nod of his head, Matthew sent a lasting smile (Y/n)'s way before he moved about the dance floor to find another partner. (Y/n) had to fight to stop herself from rolling her eyes or tapping her foot in annoyance that she had found a good dance partner and now he had disappeared. But it was more traditional to change partners with every new song.

Turning around, (Y/n) started weaving through the couples to make her way back to Ben but her breath hitched in her throat when a hand latched around her wrist and spun her around. Whoever was grabbing her was not a very formal or seemingly patient partner, he hadn't even asked he just grabbed and pulled (Y/n) along.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened and she had to stop herself from gasping or swearing under her breath when she stumbled around to face her new partner, only to see that it was the Duke who had been sitting with her at the table.

There was no time and seemingly no choice for (Y/n) to pull away or decline because the Duke had her hand trapped in his own and his other hand on her waist, pulling her as close as he could get before he started to lead the dance when the music started. When he leaned in close, (Y/n) turned her head to the side and tried to keep a calm expression and composure but she felt like ripping out of his hold and storming away.

"You look lovely tonight, your majesty. Such a pretty dress, and thin too." His words were sneered quietly but his smile was what made (Y/n)'s breath catch in her lungs.

She couldn't even try and force a smile at that remark, especially when she noticed the way his eyes were raking up and down her frame and his hand on her waist pinched the fabric of the dress as if to confirm that there weren't as many layers to the dress as the other women wore. (Y/n) had chosen this dress for many reasons, one of them being because it wasn't holding lots of frills underneath or many thick layers of fabric that made it hard to move in. But the dress wasn't skimpy or see-through or one layer thick. It was just less fleshed out than the other dresses women were wearing tonight.

Now (Y/n) really wished she'd worn a jumpsuit instead.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened and her body jolted when the Duke's hand suddenly slipped from her waist and moved lower down as he smiled at her like a predator. The action caused (Y/n)'s steps to falter and caused her to stumble ever so slightly but that only made the Duke's hand tighten around her to stop her from falling or even from trying to move away from him.

When she recovered her steps, (Y/n) moved her hand from his arm to his wrist, latching her fingers around his wrist tightly so she could pull his hand back up to her waist.

"Don't do that again." (Y/n) warned quietly whilst flitting her eyes around to see if anyone had noticed or anyone heard what she had said. It was obvious one or two people had seen the daring action of the Duke because people were whispering amongst themselves and some women were even giving (Y/n) sympathetic glances. But everyone was moving too quickly for (Y/n) to try and see Ben sitting across the room or to catch his eye.

"Feisty, I like it." He narrowed his eyes and smiled in such a daring way like he was trying to get a reaction out of her as he held her tighter against him and moved his hand lower yet again.

Trying to control her breathing that was getting out of control, (Y/n) jerked her foot forward to stand on his own causing the Duke to move back suddenly and the smile to slip from his face. But (Y/n) couldn't free herself from his hold because he simply spun them both to the right and carried on dancing, quickening the pace a little more.

"Let go, I've had enough of this now." (Y/n) dug her nails into his upper arm but the shirt and jacket he wore meant that her nails couldn't even get close to the skin and he just grinned wickedly like the Grinch. Tightening her hands on his arms, (Y/n) leaned back and tried to push him but it only made her stumble when he turned them to the side again. (Y/n) could feel herself beginning to shake and her heart was thumping horribly against her chest to the point the music could no longer be heard due to her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

"Mind if I cut in?"

(Y/n) had no time or chance to turn her head or to respond to the new voice in the conversation before an arm was forcefully pushed between her and the Duke to separate them. (Y/n) jerked her arms to her chest when the Duke's vicious grip scratched her from how he clearly didn't want to let her go.

The music carried on but the couple's dancing around them came to a slow standstill, standing a few feet away from the scene but close enough to see and hear what was going on.

(Y/n) bit down on her lip as she looked up at Ben who was stood on her left with his arm still in front of her to keep the Duke at a safe distance. But it was clear Ben was close to losing it, his arm was so tense it was beginning to shake and his breathing was deep and harsh. Reaching out, (Y/n) held onto his arm to try and pull him back and leave the situation but he wouldn't budge.

It felt like a lifetime had passed where Ben and the Duke stared at one another and everyone else surrounding them stared at the two men, waiting to see who would make the first move and what would happen next. Gasps and shocked murmurs flooded the air when Ben suddenly reached out and grabbed the Duke by the collar of his shirt. It was such a quick transition from standing as still as a statue to reaching out for the other man which happened in the blink of an eye.

"If you claw and grab at my wife like that again I won't be held responsible for my actions. Understand?" Ben's voice was unusually low and scratchy but the look in his eyes was what made everyone in the room panic, including (Y/n).

Ben had seen what the Duke was doing and he had pushed through the sea of people on the dance floor to stop it when (Y/n)'s actions hadn't done anything. He wouldn't stand for any man doing that to a woman but to see someone acting like that towards (Y/n) made him feel volatile.

Turning his head, Ben locked eyes with (Y/n) who nodded to the silent question he was asking. He scanned his eyes over her frame just to be sure she was alright before he let go of the Duke with a harsh shove of his hand. When Ben took a step away (Y/n) held onto his arm to pull him back because he looked like he wasn't finished but they didn't need a scene to unfold more than this. Everyone was already watching and waiting for the next move to be made, they should just go and leave it at this.

"But you'll hold me accountable for the way she dresses and flaunts herself at others?"

Ben just might have been able to walk away from that one comment without turning and making a scene or starting a fight, if it wasn't for the fact that he could feel how (Y/n) was trembling from how the comment cut through her. It was as if the Duke knew exactly what worries (Y/n) had felt earlier about what she chose to wear and how she would be perceived and it clung to every nerve in Ben's body that he would say something like that when he had no right. There was nothing about the way (Y/n) was dressed that suggested the Duke could touch her like he did and she wasn't the kind of person to flaunt around, she was far too worried to even think about that anyway.

Ripping his arm away from (Y/n)'s hold, Ben spun round on his heels and threw a punch at the man he had a growing rage against. The Duke stumbled back a few paces before he steadied himself on his feet again, shocked that the King would turn to such actions when he was meant to be calm and the figure of authority. But before Ben had a chance to try his luck again, two guards were holding the Duke back and another two were surrounding Ben, concerned looks on their faces just begging him not to.

No one in the room knew if a guard was allowed to even try and restrain the King or not but everyone would guess that they couldn't.

"Ben that's enough, it's time to leave." (Y/n) whispered the words against Ben's shoulder as she gripped his hand very tightly in her own whilst wrapping her other hand around his arm to pull him away. She continued to pull on his arm until he relented and turned away from the scene, waving his hand at the guards to tell them to stand down because he wasn't indulging anyone any more tonight.

(Y/n) kept her eyes on the floor as the couple walked out of the vast hall, leaving a crowd of people in their wake who were unsure what to do next. The moment they were out of the hall and in a secluded corridor, (Y/n) tilted her head to look up at her husband as she stopped walking. She couldn't decide whether she was relieved and thankful that he had stepped in to defend her like that or angry that he had caused such a scene. But when she noticed how hard he was breathing and the way his jaw was clicking side to side, she decided to be thankful. He clearly loved her enough to work himself into such a state.

Turning to look at (Y/n) when she stopped, Ben looked down at her for a few seconds before he sighed and moved his free hand to the back of her head, gently pulling her into his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

"Well... that was certainly an eventful party."

[mollymauk-teafleak]

and when it’s hard i'll place your head into my hands

Adzri, Alec and Seregil's daughter, falls ill with a summer fever, sending both of her fathers frantic. Even as Alec tries to be strong, he realises it's stirring memories he'd thought he'd buried

Please leave a comment on Ao3 and reblog if you like this! And I’m always accepting requests!

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Alec didn’t need the talímenios bond to read the anguish on Seregil’s face as soon as the chamber door closed behind them. It only meant he felt it too, a roiling, panicked pressure to thrash in his chest next to his own.

“Talí…” he murmured gently, moving immediately to hold him, “It’ll be alright.”

Seregil’s body moved to be held and hold in return but there was something mechanical about it, some missing part that made it clear his mind was elsewhere. Probably back behind the door they’d just closed, lost in the sickly miasma of illness that had invaded their daughter’s bedroom.

“Valerius said the poultice would help her breathing,” he mumbled, distress cracking the edges of his voice, “He said.”

“I know. And it will, given some time to work,” he put a confidence he didn’t truly feel in his voice, knowing his lover needed to hear it.

It had been harrowing, their little five year old girl crying fitfully at the dull green paste of crushed herbs applied to her chest, only able to sob weakly and croak that it was burning her nose. Seregil had turned away at one point, shoulders tight and tense as he faced the thick, dense summer night outside the window, leaving Alec to finish the job, murmuring soothingly to Adzri as best he could. Watching her cry herself back into a feverish sleep, still not understanding why he wasn’t listening to her had completed the breaking of his heart.

“She’s hurting, Alec,” Seregil whispered, voice raw, and if there had been any part left unshattered, those words did it.

“It’s just a summer fever, talí, I promise. It will break and she’ll be right as rain, back to running around and making our lives absolute chaos.”

The attempt at humour landed as thinly as it had sounded. They were both keenly aware that, for some, the old and young and vulnerable, summer fevers didn’t just fade. They burned and consumed the person from the inside out, racing their heart until it simply couldn’t hold any more. And while Adzri was hale and healthy, as robust as any child with scarecrows like Seregil and Alec for fathers could be, she was frighteningly young.

Alec had been holding himself together as much as he could since Adzri had started to flag just a few days earlier, starting to hack and cough and vomit in the night, as her skin turned a burning red, he’d told himself that Seregil needed him to be strong every bit as much as their daughter did.

But every time he closed his eyes, he felt like a boy again, watching his father waste away and not being able to do a bloody thing about it. The fear he tasted on his tongue was wretchedly familiar.

He shoved the thought roughly away and focused on Seregil, his tense shoulders and how he trembled in his embrace. He couldn’t fall apart now, not with his talímenios about to break in front of him.

“Come, love, you need to rest,” he whispered, kissing his cheek which tasted of salt.

That was terrifying in itself, a bitter counterpoint to the fear on his tongue. He could count on both hands the amount of times Seregil had shed tears in front of him. Though it was an increasing count, since the winter morning when he’d held her for the first time and promptly burst into tears in front of everyone in attendance, most of whom had known him for decades and had never once seen him cry.

“We should have stayed in Bôkthersa,” Seregil murmured, bitter guilt heavy in his voice, “She never once got sick when we were there and then as soon as we came back here…”

Alec sighed, again not needing the bond to feel what his lover was feeling. They’d been welcomed back to Bôkthersa with open arms, tears and relief so their daughter could be born where Seregil had been, in the same room no less, and they’d lived there for some time until she and Alec were strong enough to make the sea journey back. They’d managed to feel like a family, like part of the clan and that shared history. They’d even had a small ceremony, just amongst Seregil’s immediate family, finally making good on the promise held within the rings they’d been wearing, the promise to live as husbands no matter what the law said.

But the sweetness of those long, sunny years only made saying goodbye again even harder. And Seregil was acutely aware that they had to leave because of him, because of the mistakes that still haunted him even after so much hard won change. There was only so much time they could spend as Bôkthersans before other faie would take notice, before they would be reminded of the severing that had taken place. And there was no guarantee it would be a polite reminder.

“Rhíminee is our home,” Alec said gently, wishing more than anything he could pull out the knife of guilt Seregil still felt in his side, “We had to come back some time. Seregil, please, don’t think this is your fault.”

Seregil sighed, eyes far away, both of them well aware he wouldn’t make a promise to his love that he couldn’t keep, “I should stay by her...in case she wakes up…”

“You have been, talí,” Alec reminded him, “For three days straight. And Valerius was just as clear in his instructions for you as he was for Adzri.”

“He said to check her temperature regularly!” Seregil protested, even as the shadows under his eyes looked hollow in the candlelight and his eyes struggled to focus.

“I’ll do it,” Alec said firmly, “I slept last night, it’s your turn now. You promised me, Seregil.”

Beaten, Seregil wavered, though his eyes shone in the candles they’d left burning through the long hot nights as the house had stayed restless.

“I know, my love,” Alec moved up to cradle his face in his hands, “Believe me, I know. But you can’t help her by running yourself into the ground. You’ve done all you can, now we have to wait, as painful as it is. And you may as well do it by getting some sleep.”

Seregil took a shaky breath, now leaning into Alec’s warmth, letting himself take the comfort now with full awareness, “I just can’t bear it. Seeing this hurt her and knowing we can’t fix it.”

“Because we love her,” Alec nodded, resting their foreheads together, “And that’s going to get her through this.”

Seregil nodded slowly, “Very well...I’ll sleep but you’ll wake me at dawn? Or if anything changes?”

“Of course,” Alec promised, sending him off to their chamber just next door to Adzri’s with a last kiss, “I love you, talí.”

“I love you too,” Seregil murmured softly, eyes still sad and worn as he closed the door but there was a slight glimmer of hope under it all, one he’d managed to put back there.

Alec’s relief and triumph lasted all the way until their chamber door closed and he heard the sound of his husband sinking, fully clothed into bed. And then there was nothing but fear in its wake.

He was silent as he stepped back into his daughter’s bedroom, not wanting to wake her, and slid back into the chair that had been keeping an anxious vigil by her bedside since she took ill. It was dark, they’d extinguished all the candles and drew the curtains after it became clear the light was hurting her eyes, but it was only a few moments before his eyes found shapes in the shadows.

She was so beautiful. He was struck by that thought so much, even after years of being her father. Of course the first thing he always saw in her face was Seregil, just as his talímenios always claimed to see him. It was the long, thin nose and the sharp angles that he saw, the messily falling dark curls, the intelligence in her eyes. Though her eyes were closed now, her cheeks red with the fever, her breathing shallow and raspy, a hollow sound in the heavy shadows. Her little chest barely rose and fell, there was hardly movement in the blankets they’d wrapped her in as she lay in the middle of her little bed.

In the silence, pierced by that awful sound of illness that Alec dreaded hearing but dreaded not hearing even more wholly, he couldn’t keep the memories away anymore. Once again he was a much younger man and the shape in front of him wasn’t his daughter. The laboured breathing was deeper but no less sickly, whistling through a much older chest. And instead of the heavy, oppressive heat of a Rhíminee summer, it was so, so cold, a bleak Northern winter.

Once again he was sixteen and he was watching his father die.

All alone and without his husband to comfort, the creeping sense of helplessness set in. Here again was something he couldn’t shoot or snare or beat back with a sword, something invisible and malicious and omnipotent, sliding out one of the linchpins of his life and leaving him reeling. Once again he felt small and naive, an insignificant speck in the middle of a white, empty forest, tears freezing on his cheeks as he vainly tried to light a fire, unable to get so much as a spark.

And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

Not her too, he begged silently, as tears began to slide heavily down his cheeks, please, not her too.

All the growing he’d done, the love he’d found, the battles he’d won, what did it really mean if he couldn’t save the people he cared about?

“Alec?”

He jumped, suddenly unaware of how much time had passed, how long he’d been sat in his daughter’s bedroom and in the middle of a Northern forest at the same time, as both a terrified child and a terrified father. But Seregil was in the doorway, easier to see than he should have been at night. Some pale, grey light was filtering through behind him, light that had to be dawn’s.

“Seregil,” he croaked, voice cracking with disuse.

“Oh, talí…” Seregil kept his voice soft but the emotion in it was obvious as he moved towards him, putting his hands on Alec’s shoulders, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think once how this must be making you feel, given everything.”

Whether it was the bond or his panic attack had been that obvious on his face, it was clear Seregil knew what was going on in his mind.

“We’ve both had a lot on our minds…” he murmured, shaking his head, Seregil blaming himself the last thing he wanted, “Adzriel…”

“I should have thought,” Seregil insisted, “I should have comforted you rather than just…”

“Talí, please no,” Alec turned, needing his eyes to find his lover’s, “You could just as easily say I should have told you. And you needed me then, I’m never going to regret giving you comfort when you needed it.”

Seregil let it go but his eyes were still concerned. He did look like he had at least gotten some sleep, his hair was matted on one side and the shadows under his eyes had lessened.

“You don’t talk about your father much, talí,” he murmured, still keeping his voice low, to not wake Adzri, and his tone careful.

Alec shifted, biting his lip slightly, “I...I know I must make him sound cold but my whole childhood, he was the only constant. Some days it would feel he was the only other person in the world. He...he was my world.”

Seregil nodded slowly, hand gently stroking over his hair.

“And watching him die was...difficult,” it wasn’t a large enough word for it but he couldn’t find a right one in the moment, “And afterwards, until I met you, I felt so alone. And now, seeing her like this, it…”

His throat closed again, not in the tight, frozen panic way of before, but in the more natural way of tears being released.

“Because she’s my world too. And I don’t know what I’m going to do if I ever lose her.”

Now it was Seregil’s turn to hold him, his arms strong and safe around his shoulders as he cried quietly against his stomach. He didn’t need much, strange for years of hidden hurt, but Alec was glad the quiet shuddering had stopped so he could hear what happened next.

“Papa? Daddy?”

Both of them immediately jumped as if poked with a sword, whirling around. Adzri sat up in bed, rubbing at her eyes. Her voice was still a little raspy but she hadn’t been so alert in more than a day, her eyes so wide and aware.

“Sweetling,” Alec gasped, lurching forward to feel her forehead. Damp and clammy but perfectly cool.

“Oh, Adzriel,” Seregil moved to sit at her feet, eyes wide with relief, “Oh, look at you. How do you feel?”

“Thirsty,” she decided after some thought, her chubby little hand moving under her nightdress to her chest, where the poultice had dried and cracked, “Itchy.”

“Of course,” Seregil laughed, taking her in his arms and holding her tight, “Breakfast and a bath, then. You can have whatever you want.”

Adzri blinked, smiling hopefully, “Cake?”

“Sure,” Seregil shook with either relieved weeping or helpless laughter, even he seemed unsure, “Why not? Cake for breakfast. Aura knows we’ve earned it.”

Alec smiled, taking a moment to watch them both and let the relief course through him and chase the last of the fear away, before he moved in to share the embrace.

He hadn’t seen Amasa smile often, only on the brightest of autumn mornings or when Alec landed a shot or upon hearing the first of the starlings singing. But he could well imagine he was smiling now.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Right back at ya, same-ask-buddy!! *does a pew pew pew sound* If Runaan escaped and made it back to the Silvergrove first, how would Callum and Rayla’s trio have gone down?

Hmmmm, a good question! I’d always pictured Runaan heading straight for Rayla. But what if he didn’t? Maybe… maybe Gren busts him out and he does go galloping after Rayla–on Gren’s horse, hair flying, in a shirt borrowed from Gren-- “no you keep it, I insist!”, but he loses her at the docks, stows away on another ship, and ends up arriving in Xadia ahead of her.

Okay this got ridiculously long and entertaining, so thank you very much!

Runaan’s lotus would never have sunk, and Ethari would have been overjoyed to see him return, even in his injured and bedraggled state. And they’d both be frantic over Rayla.

I have a headcanon that the six lotuses make that pinging noise not only to indicate life, but so the elves who were bespelled can actually locate each other, exactly like Rayla did on the castle battlements. She ran out there, paused, there was a ping, and then she said, “You’re here, I know you are.” and there was another ping when Runaan yelled from inside the coin but let’s not think about how he was trying to reach out to Rayla nope

So I’d imagine that Runaan would pack his and Ethari’s mounts with gear and go back for Rayla and Callum (and, he assumes, Ezran). Maybe time for a fresh shirt, absolutely time for a couple new swords from his hubby’s wall, but no time for hair brushing, that mane’s gonna be wild and messy this whole ride. He’d find her back across the Moonstone Path.after Callum connected to the Sky arcanum, after he used dark magic. Both of those things would land hard on Runaan. And so would seeing baby Zym!

Rayla would absolutely stand between Callum and Runaan with her swords out. “I can do this all day,” she’d sass him. “But I’ve got a mission. I’ll ask you one last time, Runaan. Please, help me. But if you won’t, then please stay out of my way.”

And Runaan gets softly distracted by the way Zym is clinging to Callum in worry. Runaan the assassin is scaring the Dragon Prince. So he puts his swords down. “Very well, Rayla. I’ll escort you to the Queen of the Dragons.” A longsuffering sigh. “And the human. And then he’s going back across the border.”

Rayla’s feeling protective, though. “Let’s let Zubeia decide that.”

Another sigh. “That’s fair. Now come. We have a long journey ahead.”

Rayla sees he still has one binding on, and she asks Zym if he can help Runaan the way he helped her. Runaan is shocked when Rayla holds the Dragon Prince up to the white binding, and the little dragon pulls it free with his baby teeth. “There is more than one way to release, Runaan,” she says kindly.

And Runaan takes a moment to be totally thrown off his game. This is not the hard, cold world he’s used to. But he buries his confusion and thanks Zym for his help. I bet he smiles, too, and bows, and Zym licks his nose, startling him and making Rayla laugh.

So Runaan rides his Moonstrider–perfectly and with exquisite control–while Callum sits behind Rayla–way behind Rayla, trying not to touch her at all–on the Shadowpaw. Zym perches anywhere he can on the Shadowpaw or its riders. He doesn’t ride behind Runaan.

Callum’s got to be struggling with the dichotomy of who Runaan is. He knows Runaan killed Harrow. But here he is being softer, off his mission.

The border is another unpleasant surprise: Callum’s use of dark magic means that Sol Regem won’t let him pass. Runaan’s willing to let Callum live and return home, but Rayla insists that the quest will mean so much more if Callum’s a part of it when they reach Zubeia. Runaan quietly disagrees, but Rayla says she’s not leaving him, so Runaan can once again get out of her way or help.

Runaan’s not used to this kind of leadership-level defiance from her. But her plan is sound, so he offers to help, to make sure it goes smoothly. Naturally, he ends up dancing across Sol Regem’s crown to throw off the sunbirds and their alarm cries, and distract the dragon at some critical point. Once they’re safe on the other side, though, he insists on bath time for the stinky human. Sits on a rock overlooking the little pool where Callum’s washing off. Doesn’t make the slightest attempt at conversation.Does manage to chuckle wryly at Callum’s suggestion that Runaan should go guard Rayla at her own pool, as if she needed Runaan’s help to stay safe.

Back at the Silvergrove, Runaan and Rayla dance to open the village illusion, while Callum has to stay to the side with Zym and watch. It took Rayla a whole day to convince Runaan to let Callum into the Silvergrove at all, and Callum tipped the argument by offering to go blindfolded the rest of the way. Runaan tied his scarf over his eyes and let Rayla make sure he didn’t fall off the Shadowpaw and die or anything.

The Silvergrove is still in a bit of uproar over the assassins’ deaths, and seeing a human in the village doesn’t calm things down. Runaan is put in the position of having to glare them into silence, defending Callum, and that makes him grumpier. But Rayla’s so happy! She’s home, and she gets to show it to Callum.

They all get Moonberry Surprise, and Ethari gets to explain what he knows about the Dragon Queen dying, and to take care of his family and see to their needs. He can’t stop touching Runaan, to prove to himself that he’s okay, back home safe. And he keeps hugging Rayla. Runaan won’t thank Callum for saving Rayla with dark magic. But Ethari does thank him for looking out for her the whole way here.

There is no “two blankets or just one” here. Runaan balks at the idea of letting Callum inside at all but Ethari tsks at him and says he’ll take care of it. He makes Callum a nice toasty hammock that hangs near the forge and keeps him toasty warm.

Runaan is in a much better mood the next morning. Ethari put in a lot of effort to relax and encourage him, because he knew what Runaan was going to do next: take Rayla and Callum and Zym to the Storm Spire. And he does. He seems a little baffled that he cares this much, but he’s doing it for Rayla, and Ethari insists it’s the right thing to do, and that he’s the perfect elf to make sure they get there safely.

All packed up, they head out the next morning. Runaan’s his usual stoic self, leading the way. And Ethari has given him his own pendant to wear. Callum is bursting with questions as he rides behind Rayla, and she answers him with her usual teasing sass. Hearing her voice, how easily she converses with the human, both soothes and worries Runaan. Knowing he’s got his arm back thanks to Zym is giving him a lot to think about, too. He’s basically using this part of the trip to process his feels, just like Rayla did in canon.

Ethari still shoots his lighthawk arrow, and Nyx intercepts it. But Ethari, tricky elf, doesn’t mention Runaan in his note, so Nyx doesn’t expect an assassin to be guarding the kids she’s come to mislead and rob. She smartens up at the tip of his blade, while Rayla elbows Callum and winks as if to say “Watch this.”

Negotiations ensue and an accord is swiftly reached, in which Nyx will lead them across the Midnight Desert, and if she doesn’t try anything clever, she’ll be rewarded on the far side. She agrees readily, and they set out. Runaan stays up all night at the oasis, so Nyx never tries to steal Zym. 

Rayla and Callum still have a midnight chat, but it doesn’t start with her tears. She has both her dads and she was never ghosted. What’s weighing on her heart is whether she can live up to Runaan’s expectations now that she’s let him down once. She’s afraid he’s going to disown her or something. That he thinks she needs shepherding across Xadia like she can’t get there herself. She feels like he’s treating her like a child.

Callum sees something else. But he’s not comfortable talking about it because it paints Runaan in a much kinder light than he’s used to. He sees a stabby dad trying to make up for dragging Rayla onto a terrible mission, by helping her with her own, by trying to ensure that it goes well. He sees Runaan being protective and very very lowkey apologetic. But he’s not ready to allow Runaan to have that side yet. He ends up talking about Harrow for a couple of hours, and Rayla listens. 

Runaan has to choose between keeping an eye on Nyx and keeping an eye on Rayla. He chooses Nyx. So he misses the part where Rayla kisses Callum and then glances over worriedly to see if Runaan was watching.

Runaan’s pretty exhausted the next sunrise as the ambler carries them across the desert, and the moment he’s out, Rayla and Callum grin and look at each other like they’re about to kiss again. And Nyx takes Zym and makes a beeline for the far side of the desert. Callum and Rayla yell after her. Runaan wakes and grabs his bow. His arrow finds Nyx’s wing before Zym can zap her. She still tumbles into the sand, and Runaan’s not interested in picking her up again. He’s woken up very grumpy. But while Zym returns to Callum, Rayla goes after Nyx and rescues her. Runaan isn’t really on board with her plan, but he does pot shot soulfang serpents from the ambler’s saddle to give Rayla enough room to reach Nyx safely and bring her back. Callum’s too worried about Rayla to really think about how easily Runaan can kill stuff.

Callum totally does his “Because she’s Rayla” speech right in front of Runaan. He’s just as flabbergasted as she is, because he knows just as well as Rayla what open feelings mean among Moonshadows. He doesn’t expect Callum to know that, but he knows Rayla knows. And she’s letting Callum keep talking.

“Rayla.” They both jump when he calls her name. But he just wants to talk. So, like the Moonshadow warriors they are, they climb way up the ambler’s neck, leaving Callum behind, and talk. Rayla shows Runaan how she sees Callum: brave, warm, a team player, skilled with primal magic, willing to do foolhardy things for the right reasons. And then she spins that, not onto herself, but onto Ethari and Runaan both. It’s her “I like him because he’s like you” speech. Runaan doesn’t see a single iota of Callum in himself. But he does see some of Ethari. And that gives him a lot of pause. He needs some time to think, so he tries to buy it by saying, “Don’t trust him yet.”

Rayla just sasses back, “Oh, it’s way too late for that, Runaan. He’s saved my life four times already.”

They cross the desert and Nyx cheekily demands her reward. Runaan gives her a raised eyebrow of judgment. “You said if I led you across the desert and didn’t try anything clever,” she says, “I’d be rewarded. And,” she adds, holding out her hand for payment, “I think we can all agree that I wasn’t very clever just then.” She tosses a sassy wink in with her grin.

Runaan just stares at her. Then he pulls one of his arrows from its quiver, snaps it in half, and hands it to her. “No one will buy that from you, so don’t try.”

“What’s it good for, then? A busted arrow.”

“A broken Moonshadow assassin arrow means your justice will come later. Try to live long enough to appreciate it.”

The group travels to the Storm Spire, and Ezran and Phoe-Phoe find them there. Runaan hangs back from Ezran, but he’s very distracted by Phoe-Phoe’s tranformation and her feather. He wants to ask Rayla about the Moon Nexus, but now isn’t the time. And this all happens in Avizandum’s shadow, making everyone feel very uncomfortable. Callum says his speech about how the statue makes him feel, and he says it loudly enough for Runaan to hear on purpose. Rayla holds his hand and stands with him. Runaan eyes Avizandum, then he looks back at the kids. He never intended to get this soft, but it’s Callum who’s letting him. It’s getting harder not to respect the young prince, because he does have so many traits that Runaan admires about his husband. But there’s a heavy shadow that lies between them, and it can’t ever be lifted.

Runaan takes the mounts up the Spire behind the kids. Ezran and Callum revive them with Ventus Spiralis. Runaan looks at Callum speculatively–he could’ve just let him suffocate. Callum just says, “We’ll need everyone together on this.” Because yes, it’s one thing to return to the Dragon Queen with an elf and a human bearing Zym safely. It’s another to return in the company of the assassin sent out to take Harrow.

But Zubeia isn’t awake, and soon Ibis sees the human army is coming. He flies off for help, and Runaan and Rayla find themselves where Lain and Tiadrin were, in the egg chamber. And then Runaan tells her what he saw in Viren’s coins. “Lain and Tiadrin didn’t run, Rayla. Viren took them, and he still has them. We were wrong.”

Callum defends the base of the Spire, and Runaan, surprisingly, joins him, leaving Rayla to stand where her parents stood. He just offers Callum a tolerant look when he steps out beside him, arrow nocked on his bowstring.

“Fighting to protect who you love?” Callum asks quietly.

Runaan pauses. “Always.”

Callum sketches a Fulminis rune. “Same here.”

And they fight side by side. Runaan keeps Callum safe. Callum keeps Runaan safe. It doesn’t resolve much. But it’s a start in the direction of forgiveness and trust. 

And then after the battle, Ezran tells them that Viren’s sneaked up top after Zym. Runaan and Callum dash up the stairs, with Runaan pulling Callum by his coat half the way.

They reach the top in time to see Viren toss Rayla back, her swords flying. Runaan pushes Callum toward Rayla. “Stop her. He’s mine.”

Callum gasps as he sees Rayla gathering herself for a run at Viren. He leaps after her, spurred by desperate love, and tackles her into his arms on the steps of the Pinnacle. “Rayla,stop, you’ll die, you can’t! Don’t leave me. I need you.”

The words tumble out, but a shadow flickers past them, and they both look up in time to see Runaan tackle Viren off the cliff.

“No!” Rayla and Callum both yell. They scramble up, pick up a frightened and hurt Zym, and stare down into the clouds. 

“I can save him, I can save him,” Callum’s mumbling. “I can do the wing spell, I know I can.”

“Look!” Rayla points down into the clouds. Something’s circling. Then a dark red shape bursts up into the setting sunlight, spirals, and lands back on the Pinnacle beside them. Runaan lets the shadowhawk spell dissipate and holds up the pendant chain, now empty of its moon opal. 

“Love really does give you wings,” he says. He rests a hand on each of their shoulders, sees Viren’s fallen relic staff. “You���re the mage, Callum. You should look after that staff. Perhaps we can find a good use for it.”

And with one hand, he holds up a little pouch that he pickpocketed from Viren on the way down and jingles it. “Right, Rayla?”

[engenderandendear]

“October” by Louise Glück

1.

Is it winter again, is it cold again, didn’t Frank just slip on the ice, didn’t he heal, weren’t the spring seeds planted

didn’t the night end, didn’t the melting ice flood the narrow gutters

wasn’t my body rescued, wasn’t it safe

didn’t the scar form, invisible above the injury

terror and cold, didn’t they just end, wasn’t the back garden harrowed and planted–

I remember how the earth felt, red and dense, in stiff rows, weren’t the seeds planted, didn’t vines climb the south wall

I can’t hear your voice for the wind’s cries, whistling over the bare ground

I no longer care what sound it makes

when I was silenced, when did it first seem pointless to describe that sound

what it sounds like can’t change what it is–

didn’t the night end, wasn’t the earth safe when it was planted

didn’t we plant the seeds, weren’t we necessary to the earth,

the vines, were they harvested?

. 2.

Summer after summer has ended, balm after violence: it does me no good to be good to me now; violence has changed me.

Daybreak. The low hills shine ochre and fire, even the fields shine. I know what I see; sun that could be the August sun, returning everything that was taken away —

You hear this voice? This is my mind’s voice; you can’t touch my body now. It has changed once, it has hardened, don’t ask it to respond again.

A day like a day in summer. Exceptionally still. The long shadows of the maples nearly mauve on the gravel paths. And in the evening, warmth. Night like a night in summer.

It does me no good; violence has changed me. My body has grown cold like the stripped fields; now there is only my mind, cautious and wary, with the sense it is being tested.

Once more, the sun rises as it rose in summer; bounty, balm after violence. Balm after the leaves have changed, after the fields have been harvested and turned.

Tell me this is the future, I won’t believe you. Tell me I’m living, I won’t believe you.

. 3.

Snow had fallen. I remember music from an open window.

Come to me, said the world. This is not to say it spoke in exact sentences but that I perceived beauty in this manner.

Sunrise. A film of moisture on each living thing. Pools of cold light formed in the gutters.

I stood at the doorway, ridiculous as it now seems.

What others found in art, I found in nature. What others found in human love, I found in nature. Very simple. But there was no voice there.

Winter was over. In the thawed dirt, bits of green were showing.

Come to me, said the world. I was standing in my wool coat at a kind of bright portal — I can finally say long ago; it gives me considerable pleasure. Beauty the healer, the teacher —

death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life.

. 4.

The light has changed; middle C is tuned darker now. And the songs of morning sound over-rehearsed. —

This is the light of autumn, not the light of spring. The light of autumn: you will not be spared.

The songs have changed; the unspeakable has entered them.

This is the light of autumn, not the light that says I am reborn.

Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered. This is the present, an allegory of waste.

So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate: the ideal burns in you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart.

The songs have changed, but really they are still quite beautiful. They have been concentrated in a smaller space, the space of the mind. They are dark, now, with desolation and anguish.

And yet the notes recur. They hover oddly in anticipation of silence. The ear gets used to them. The eye gets used to disappearances.

You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared.

A wind has come and gone, taking apart the mind; it has left in its wake a strange lucidity.

How priviledged you are, to be passionately clinging to what you love; the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you.

Maestro, doloroso:

This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. Surely it is a privilege to approach the end still believing in something.

. 5.

It is true that there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.

I am at work, though I am silent.

The bland

misery of the world bounds us on either side, an alley

lined with trees; we are

companions here, not speaking, each with his own thoughts;

behind the trees, iron gates of the private houses, the shuttered rooms

somehow deserted, abandoned,

as though it were the artist’s duty to create hope, but out of what? what?

the word itself false, a device to refute perception — At the intersection,

ornamental lights of the season.

I was young here. Riding the subway with my small book as though to defend myself against

the same world:

you are not alone, the poem said, in the dark tunnel.

. 6.

The brightness of the day becomes the brightness of the night; the fire becomes the mirror.

My friend the earth is bitter; I think sunlight has failed her. Bitter or weary, it is hard to say.

Between herself and the sun, something has ended. She wants, now, to be left alone; I think we must give up turning to her for affirmation.

Above the fields, above the roofs of the village houses, the brilliance that made all life possible becomes the cold stars.

Lie still and watch: they give nothing but ask nothing.

From within the earth’s bitter disgrace, coldness and barrenness

my friend the moon rises: she is beautiful tonight, but when is she not beautiful?