#and i was toying with this idea of the 'villager' working as a reporter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

13as07 · 2 months

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Our #4

(Shikamaru Nara)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to ruuunasan22]

Requested by: @tadomikiku

Word Count: 4,182

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

I 100% believe Shikamaru would take care of me and fix all my issues with some stability and routine

P.S. After the shit this man did to Hidan, you can't convince me people of the village didn't fear him

P.S.S. I love this story line so fucking much so if I can come up with an idea I might do a part five but we’ll see if I can come up with a plot for it

Soft Domination

Spanking/Temperature Play (burn marks)

DD/LG themes: Hand Signals, Line Writing, Diet Control

Collar (more or less)

Nick Names/Name Calling: Sir, Spoiled/Brat, Pretty Girl

———————————————————————

Shikamaru's fingers rub together, sending out a snap before his finger points down to the ground. I do as the established signal demands of me, switching to the other side of him so I'm between him and the buildings lining the street.

"You don't walk the closest to the road," he mumbles, glancing at me before continuing to look forward. It's one of Shika's unfounded worries, the fear of being grabbed at if I'm not safely tucked between the buildings and himself.

Most of his day-to-day commands are from unfounded worries. I think Shikamaru's concerns are a mix of him being the established 'protector' of the squad and the after-effect of Asuma's and his father's death. I don't mind though, it's nice to feel taken care of, to feel protected.

As we walk his fingers occasionally slide across my thigh, toying with my skirt as we walk to the Clan Center building. Shika is stressed, evident from his clinging to the hem of the cloth when his fingertips collide with it.

"You're going to be great. Your clan is lucky to have you as a Chief," I praise, knotting our hands together.

Shikamaru stops, his head tilting towards me. "Our," he mutters before leading me forward again. "Our clan is lucky to have us as Chief and Chieftess."

"Alright mister technical, if we want to be specific with our words, I'm still not officially a Nara so no, your clan," I tease, wrapping myself around his arm.

The arm I'm not tangled around reaches up, clinging to the chain I never took off last night. Shika tugs on it, the familiar clinking of the metal filling my ears as I'm forced closer to his face. His nose rests against mine, his usual bored expression set in place as he looks down at me.

"No," he says softly, lips brushing mine as he talks. "Our. You have been a Nara since the first time you knocked into me at the academy. You have been a Nara since our first mission together. You have been a Nara since our first date. Do you know why?"

"Why?" I ask, my breath caught in my throat from the seemingly calm demeanor my fiancé carries himself with. The seemingly calm demeanor that works so well for him and constantly reminds me how hot Shikamaru is.

"Because you're my pretty girl," he answers, head tilting and eyes skipping down to my lips. My chain clicks some more, tightening around my neck as he plays with the metal. "Who's my pretty girl?"

"Me."

Shika hums in agreement, eyes skirting over my face before settling on my lips again. His head tilts the rest of the way down, brushing his lips to mine, finally. It's a soft, short kiss. A publicly acceptable kiss, now that we're more so in the eye of the Clan and in turn, the village.

He pulls away a bit, eyes still locked on my lips. "We should get going. I have a meeting at eight-thirty," Shikamaru mutters, lips brushing against mine again. Another beat passes before he pulls away, dropping his hold on my chain. His hand squeezes mine a few times before I'm led forward, Shika's head back to business.

————————————

"This is such a drag," Shikamaru mutters, eyes scanning the livestock report as his hand toys with the inside of my thigh.

I'm standing next to his office chair, my upper half lying across his desk. My head is propped on my folded arms, glancing to the side to take in Shika's distress. "What's a drag?" I ask, fully aware of the answer. The livestock report is nineteen percent lower than last season. It's not a terrible number coming right out of the fourth war, but is a terrible number for the average seasonal report.

"The livestock report is... horrendous," he mutters, fingers dipping into my flesh, kneading it like a stress ball. "Last year the number stayed around two and a half thousand," Shika continues, speaking more to himself than me. "This year we're barely breaking two thousand, and that's on the high end."

His face is scrunched up, mind running a mile a minute with different solutions and their outcomes. "Skip the hunting season this year," I recommend, going back to burying my head in my arms.

"Poaching is high as is. The farmers are already struggling with the lost livestock from the war. If I ordinate a no-hunting time frame it'll only skyrocket," the explanation is what I expect it to be, but I know Shika needs a wall to bounce ideas off of.

"Limit it then."

"What do you mean 'limit it'?" He asks, fingers stilling as he grips my skin.

"I don't know."

Shikamaru tugs on me, sliding me closer to his chair. "Look at me." I do as I'm told, straightening up and turning towards him. "You are a pretty girl with a pretty mind. What do you mean by 'limit it'?" His eyes are dark, disappointment coated in them as he looks at me.

It's not a secret that Shikamaru is one of the smartest Shinobis of our generation, his only real competition being Shino. It leaves me feeling dumb, causing me to leave my opinions silent most of the time despite the fact he likes hearing them, no matter how stupid they sound.

"I don't know," I whisper, shifting my feet around, my eyes doing the same. "It's a dumb idea."

"Pretty girl," he coos coldly, using his hold on me to tug me forward. Shika turns his chair, settling my stance between his legs. "I asked you a question. Stop being difficult. Any idea you have to help feed our people is a good idea, even if it's not the best option."

I squirm under his demanding sight, not managing to get far from the hold his hand and knees have on me.

"I just thought to make a new herd, kind of. During the next health checks, the ones that seem the healthiest for the breeding season get marked. Declare them as non-huntable. Then round them up and confine them and sort of control their exposure to each other during their rutting season. Kind of 'encourage' breeding instead of leaving it to fate." The words come out jumbled, rushed out to hopefully escape the dumbness of the idea.

"How would we mark them?" Shikamaru asks, eyes fluttering as he looks up at me.

"I don't know... ribbons? Bands? Paint a stripe or something on them? Have them herded to a specific area and mark the area off-limits maybe?" My cheeks are heated at my idea. It sounds so dumb.

"How would we divide them back out to the farmers?" He asks, both his hands wandering up my skirt, continuing to use my legs as his personal stress balls.

"I don't know... it depends on how you want to do the round-up, I guess. We could have the farmers personally do the round-up and controlled breeding. Or, there could be a separate division to do it. Divide the fawns by percentages. If a farmer is responsible for ten percent of the breeding deer, he gets ten percent of the fawns... or something."

I'm pulled into Shika's lap, my legs resting against his sides as his hands wander under my shirt this time. "You're such a pretty girl when you share your thoughts," he praises, fingertips dancing over my sides as his nose shoves my chain out of the way. His mouth latches to my throat, gently sucking on my skin.

"But," Shikamaru continues, hands dropping down to hold my hips. The word makes my stomach drop, the promise of the forced answer being punished. "Well I write our proposal, you get to write lines."

"Shika," I groan, leaning backward to further my pouting.

Tap, tap, tap.

I groan again after the soft smacks to my hip, sitting upright as I let my lack of enjoyment know. "Yes, Sir," I grumble, my compliance being rewarded with a kiss.

When we part, I'm shifted in Shikamaru's lap, the both of us facing his desk now. My eyes trail after his hands, watching them tug out a blank piece of paper and a pen. 'I'm a pretty girl with a pretty mind' is scribbled on the first line before the paper is shoved my way. "Fifty lines, pretty girl," he mutters, kissing me behind my ear before he focuses on his paper.

"This is such a drag," I mumble under my breath, poking fun at my fiancé.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

"Since you want to be an unpretty girl, you can do a hundred lines."

I groan again, letting my head tumble down to rest on his shoulder. "Yes, Sir," I continue to sigh, brushing kisses to his neck. My attempt at a distraction doesn't work, a simple hum of approval comes from Shika before he starts our proposal.

————————————

My eyes flicker to Shikamaru's hands. They're clenched around the menu, slowly going white from his grip. He's stressed about the proposal, along with about a hundred other issues that need to be fixed. "Do you want to go back to the office? We can get take out or eat later."

"No," he utters, tipping the menu down to look at me. "You need to eat something and I could use the break. Being out from behind a desk might help clear my thoughts." The menu tips back up, hiding away Shika's distress from my sight.

"I think I'm going to get some tahini ramen," I say, continuing to look over the menu just in case I find something that sounds better.

Shika hums, setting his menu down so he can look at me. "No, you're not."

"What do you mean 'no'?" I groan, already knowing the answer. Shikamaru keeps my food intake balanced, partly because I don't care enough to learn the needed balances and partly because I hardly remember to drink water, let alone to eat properly.

"You haven't had any proteins today. You need something with protein," he shortly explains, eyes still scanning the options.

"I had protein today," I mutter, picking an unneeded banter. I honestly don't know if I have or not, but Shika needs a distraction. Something that lets his mind rest a bit.

"You had a bowl of rice with strawberries for breakfast, your grains, and fruit intake for the day. Then you had veggie curry for lunch, making up your veggie intake. You need protein," Shikamaru continues to explain, eyebrow raised as he looks at me, challenging me to fight him on it.

I roll my eyes at the demanding man, even though I know the command is in my best interest. "So just something with meat?" I ask, scanning the list again in search of a different dish.

"Ya, or something with eggs or nuts or beans."

"Oh, I'll just get shoyu ramen then with an orange ramune to drink."

Shika hums in disagreement, eyes flicker to me for a second. "You've had enough fizzy drinks for now. You're going to get a cup or two of water."

"Shikamaru," I groan, resting my head on the table.

"Be a pretty girl and I'll get you an orange ramune on the way home from the office."

"Yes, Sir," I mutter, propping my head on my hands. I watch Shika as his eyes scan the menu, enjoying the softness of his face. He's a pretty boy, with beautiful dark almond eyes, and hair to match. I like looking at him. "When do you want the wedding to happen?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he repeats, focusing fully on me again. "If I could have my way anyway," Shikamaru adds, focus shifted away from me again before settling back in place. "Though, the sooner the better."

"You don't want a long engagement?"

His face shifts to his 'you’re dumb' look, eyebrows up, head tilted, and lips set. "I told you I wanted you pregnant last night. If we were married you already would be."

My cheeks heat at the memories from last night. Almost every round ended with Shika telling me how he couldn't wait to get me pregnant, how he is excited for me to get off my contraceptives, how pretty my baby bump would look, and how he wants to give our clan an heir as soon as possible.

"Ya, okay," I whisper, eyes locked on him again. "I'll start planning the wedding after dinner."

"Pretty girl," he hums, head shifting to the side.

My eyes trail after his, being met with our waitress back at the table. "Are you guys ready to order?" She asks, focusing on me, her pad ready to scribble down my order.

"Yes, we are," Shika answers, tugging the waitress's attention to himself. "The lady will have an order of the shoyu ramen with a water and I'll take the salmon kushiyaki with a cup of milk tea."

The waitress nods her head as Shikamaru talks, scribbling down our order. "I'll have that out right away."

"Thank you," Shika mutters, staring at me. I stare back, not sure what he's expecting from me. "Pretty girls use their manners," he mutters once the waitress walks away.

"Oh, shit, ya. I'm sorry."

"Pretty girls don't have pouty mouths either," he adds, tilting his head in fake disappointment.

"Whoops," I grumble, rolling my eyes at him. I rest my head on top of my folded hands again, watching him for his reaction. The game is afoot and I fully intend to use Shika's little confession from last night to my full advantage.

"I know what you're doing and it's not going to work," he tells me, a smug smile on his face. Shikamaru shifts his position, mirroring mine as he stares back at me. "Keep testing me, spoiled girl. See where that gets you."

I shift, sitting up again as a smile crosses my face. The game is afoot and I'm going to win.

"Here are your drinks!" The waitress calls out, walking back up to the table and setting our drinks down.

"Thank you," Shika repeats, sight locked on me still.

"Thank you," I echo, smiling at our server. Maybe I won't win this time either.

Shikamaru hums in approval, eyes snapping closed so he can further enjoy our break from the clan matters. "Pretty girl."

————————————

"Wait," Shikamaru grumbles, grabbing hold of my wrist before I have the chance to walk back into the building. "I want to have a smoke."

"Addict," I tease, letting him lead me around the side of the building.

"Spoiled brat," he shoots back, stopping a couple of paces away from the corner. "You shouldn't complain."

"Why not?" I ask, leaning against the wall like usual.

"Because," he mutters, digging through his pockets in search of his lighter and pack. "If you get your punishment now I have less time to stew on it."

I lean my head back, shooting a pout towards him. "I've listened today," I whine, trying my best to make my eyes watery, a ploy to get out of my punishment.

"Ya?" Shika asks, settling a cigarette between his lips before his hands cup it, his lighter flicking on to light the end. "You've also forgotten your manners, have a pouty mouth, and rolled your eyes at me. Your attitude needs to be knocked down a bit."

My eyes trail after the line of grey smoke sliding past Shikamaru's lips. I'd love it if he'd give up smoking, but he looks so hot doing it. He scoots closer, his free hand digging into my cheeks as he forces our eye contact. "Those pretty crocodile tears aren't going to work so you can knock that off too."

"You're being harsh."

"Ya? You really think that?" Shika asks, a smug smile on his face as he looks down at me. "Do you want to see harsh, pretty girl?" He asks, bending down to whisper in my ear. "If you want to see harsh, I'll bend you over and beat your ass like I did last night. Do you want me to do that instead?"

"No, Sir."

"I didn't think so," he murmurs, kissing my cheek before letting me go. "Besides, you look pretty with my cigarette stamps covering you." I hum in agreement, a trait I picked up from the man next to me.

Every couple of puffs Shika huffs the smoke towards me, coating me in the scent. He might not be the most territorial person in the world, but he still likes people knowing who I belong to. However, I think he just likes the look of realization people get when they figure out my scent is a mix of perfume and his cigarettes. Or maybe the sight of their heads popping up and scanning for him. Or the expression of fear that coats their face when they do find him. Or maybe all of the above.

"Shika?"

"Yes, pretty girl?"

"If we try for a baby I can't sit with you on your smoke breaks anymore."

He falls quiet, focusing on his puffs as he rolls my words around. "Ya, I know," he finally answers back, eyes falling to me. They flutter a bit before I'm tugged in front of Shika, my back resting against his chest and our legs tangled together. "That's a later issue though," he mumbles, hand buried down my shirt, tugging it out of the way.

Like always, Shikamaru tests the butt's temperature against his wrist before pressing it to my collarbone. He traces the marks from yesterday, reinforcing their pinkness. His nose presses my chain further up my neck, lips tracing my throat opposite to the spot he's marking.

The familiar feeling of my skin sizzling under the dying flame fills my senses, making my mind foggy with pain and lust. "We could go to the courthouse," I murmur, our conversation at dinner still circling my head.

"I don't follow, pretty girl," he whispers into my skin, kissing my neck once more before he pulls back for another cigarette. If I didn't sit with Shika during his smoke breaks, I'm pretty sure he'd chain-smoke his whole pack some days.

"We could go to the courthouse and get married tomorrow like you want," I explain, still buzzing from the leftover tingles of the now-dead cigarette. My eyes trail after the butt, watching as Shika flicks it to the ground.

His humming, lighter snapping on again, and the sound of his inhaling temptation with cancer fills my ears before he answers. "I haven't publicly proposed yet. Plus Mom knows I bought the ring so she'll flip if I both propose and marry you before the Clan knows. Just focus on planning the wedding, pretty girl. I can wait."

"Shika - "

"I can wait," he repeats, his free hand tipping my chin up, forcing my head backward so I'm looking at him. "I waited ten years to ask you out, I can wait however long it'll take to plan the wedding."

"You did not wait ten years to ask me out," I laugh, smiling up at the unmotivated love of my life.

He sighs, smoke coating my face because of it, before he leans down to peck my lips. "Like I told you this morning, pretty girl, you have been mine since the first time you bumped into me at the academy. I can wait a little longer."

————————————

Shikamaru’s fingers slide through my hair, gently untangling the knots that have formed throughout the day. I’m sat comfortably on the ground, kneeling between his legs as my head and arms are rested on his lap. His voice rings out, reading his father’s past proposals and rulings concerning livestock issues. His chair squeaks now and again when he shifts, falling short under the sound of his voice.

“Shika,” I hum, toying with his belt.

“‘I don’t want to get caught’. ‘It's too soon for us to cause a scandal’,” he mocks, fingers wrapping around my hand to tug it away as he throws my whines from the night before back in my face.

“I want to blow you,” I mutter, settling my head back down. “I like sucking your dick.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he coos, fingers tangled in my hair again. “You take good care of me.” Shikamaru’s hand slides down, tilling my chin upward so our eyes can connect. “When I’m done going through paperwork we’ll - ”

His sentence is cut off by a knock on the door, causing his eyes to tear away from me. “Or not,” he mutters, hand buried in the strands of my hair again. “Come in.”

My head tilts back, being met with the sight of Chief Akimichi. “Hello, Choza!” I call out, starting to climb to my feet. Shika uses his hold on my head to push me back down, keeping me in place.

“Hello Chieftess Nara,” he teases, smiling at me before he turns towards Shika. “Shikamaru,” Choza continues, nodding his head. “You called?”

“Ya,” Shika mumbles, his hand falling to cup my face as he shifts around. “There are issues with the deer population. To fix it, my pret - ” he cuts himself off, blinking a few times as he processes his words. Shikamaru’s exhaustion from the day is starting to show through, proven by the slip of his tongue. “She came up with an idea and I wrote a proposal. I wanted you to look it over since I can’t ask… could you look it over?”

The room stays quiet, Shikaku’s death hanging in the air. I shift my position, wrapping my arms around Shika’s waist and burying my head into his chest. His hands tangle into my hair, fingers going to work, swooping it into a makeshift ponytail. I can feel his eyes locked on me, using me as a source of control for his sadness.

“Of course, I can,” Choza answers, his voice soft and a bit sad. “If you have a copy I’ll take it home and read it over.”

“Okay,” Shika mutters, dropping my hair before he goes searching for our proposal buried somewhere on his desk. “If you have any past orderings on the Akimichi livestock I would appreciate getting the chance to read them too. I know beef is a lot different than venison but it would be good brainstorming and foundation work.”

“I’ll see what I can find. I’ll send out a call tomorrow. After I get a chance to read this over and have a look for the livestock ordinances, of course.”

“Thank you,” Shika mumbles, softly tugging on the ends of my hair.

“We appreciate it, Choza,” I add, tilting my head back to smile at the older man.

“I’m here for you guys… and Ino. I want you guys to succeed, and I’ll do my best to advise you. Don’t think… just because Shikaku and Inoichi are… no longer with us, doesn’t mean I don’t care about our clans’ alliances. Or you kids.” Choza’s face is tight as he smiles at us, the man trying his best to deal with the deaths of his friends. “You three are as much my children as Choji is.”

“We know,” I answer for the both of us, tightening my hold on Shikamaru. “Don’t be getting all soft on us though, old man.”

“Hey, this old man can still beat you in a sparring match,” he chuckles out, patting his stomach in the same way Choji does when he laughs. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Goodbye,” Shika and I both call as he walks out of the office, leaving us alone again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask gently, shifting my focus back to Shikamaru.

“No,” he whispers, hands dropping from my hair and settling under my arms. “I just want to hold you, pretty girl.”

The request is followed by me being lifted from the ground and placed on Shika’s lap. I curl up against him, legs wrapped around his waist, and arms around his neck. I brush kisses across his face, muttering ‘I love you’ on repeat against his skin.

Each mutter is echoed back as Shikamaru holds me against him, head resting on my shoulder. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers, my shirt soaking up the silent tears spilling from him. “I can’t wait for our wedding. To see you in your wedding dress. To see you, and Ino, and Choji dancing together. I just…” Shika cuts himself off with a soft sob.

“I wish they could be there too. I have an idea though.” He hums against my skin, returning my kisses to my shoulder. “At the ceremony, we can set out chairs for them. For your dad. For Asuma, Inoichi, and Neji. For anyone else you can think of.”

“I’d like that,” he whispers, kisses crawling up my neck. Shika continues trailing his way up, finally pecking my lips before he rests his forehead against mine. “You are so pretty,” he mutters against my lips. “Our kid is going to be so pretty because of you.”

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#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #shikamaru nara oneshot #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru oneshot #shikamaru nara

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animeomegas · 2 years

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Ok for the late back from a mission thing this is what I imagined

Neji; Just as his pup says “ apa come?” And right before he answers, the door to the hokage office is slammed open. In enters the alpha with dirt and blood in some places but not on the face so they are still recognisable. They came in to report the mission and to demand an at least month rest ( they might have threatened to burn down the whole village, but the pup doesn’t need to hear that)

Naruto doesn’t need to be told twice

Shino; The alpha comes back late because of some transformation troubles such as a civil war in the town they were supposed to go through ( they help or not I don’t know they are just late) and when they enter their home they find it empty, no sign of their family, almost no scent left except for distressed once, they know it belongs to Shino and the pup. The nest is a little messed up and their pup’s room lack a couple of their toys but their favourite one is still there. This got them very worried, because the pup doesn’t leave this toy ever it’s like their safe place , so why.

They get very scared, memories of the mission and of the war, the horrible things that happened to the families, kidnapping, killing, faking someone’s whereabouts as travailing but in reality they were kidnapped and killed or sold ( yk all the things u might see on a mission thinking) and they sprint into the woods because that’s the closest way to Shino’s oma’s home and they need to know what happened. Only on their way there, they sense something familiar, and that’s where they find their family, looking at bugs in the woods . Well that was the last time Shino left the house like that and without a note while the alpha is away.

The pup left the toy so when their apa comes home and finds it they can hold it and feel better and they meet because that what she does

Iruka; He takes his baby home , hoping to whoever is listening that his alpha comes home as quickly as possible, and guess what they find when they enter the house?

That’s why his pup going to be working in the village and not as a shinobi, he doesn’t want his future family to go through that

I know this is too much and i am sorry but I really loved those and i am a sucker for good endings, I could cry if something bad happened at the end. All the love 💕

This is great! I love these ideas!! And I'm glad you liked the original post hehe <3

I'm a complete sucker for happy endings, and I was definitely writing the original post imagining that the alpha was still alive and would be home shortly.

I just can't do angst without writing a happy ending in my head XD

I also didn't even think about how bad it would look when Shino's alpha got home and there was no one there lmao It didn't occur to me, or Shino to write a note rip.

And I adore the idea of Iruka going home and his alpha is there, just getting out of the shower like 'I was about to get dressed then come pick you both up, but you're home early!'

So sweet, thanks so much for sending this to me xx

#asks #hcs #naruto #neji #shino #iruka #a/b/o #omegaverse #headcanons #alpha!reader #reader insert

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loop-deloo · 10 months

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no idea what album thing that anon was referring to but BOY DO I HAVE RECS:

hopping off their billy joel talk, MY personal favorite bj album is glass houses. some of his best work, everyone’s a banger. i feel like i have some credibility here being from long island, so i have many opinions about our boy billy and their all right.

other albums hmmm. i LOVE the kink’s village green. mystery jet’s twenty one is one of the best early band albums out there, the shit that they pulled being so new is INSANE. also the doors’ soft parade.

one of my favorite albums of all time has to be the lemon twigs’ go to school. it’s an experimental musical about a chimp raised by humans who experiences culture shocks and it’s insane. those boys are my everything, THE THEORY. THE KEY CHANGES UGHHHH

what else what else uhhh talking heads’ more songs about buildings and food is up there for me. moondog’s h’art songs. PAUL MCCARTNEY’S RAM THAT’S THE ONE THAT’S IT.

kinda went off oops my bad. these are just some off the top of my head 🤪 anyways love you let me know if you take a listen i love music talk <333

ok claude you sent this like a month ago, i’m so sorry. it takes me SO long to listen to albums bc i have to listen at least 5 times to be confident that i’ve actually listened to most of it. i get distracted :/ i’m sorry. anyway. i am very much working my way through

here are my thoughts so far but i’ll keep going later.

you definitely have lots more authority than me i’m from philly. tell me more opinions on bj though i’d love to hear. i think i was like a solid 8/10 on glass houses. good story. fantastic work album listened to it for most of the day while i organised boxes of pipette tips and inputted hours of mind numbing data oh my god. also some bangers for cleaning the kitchen. i liked you may be right (kitchen dancing). honestly i liked all for leyna even though it was giving slightly musical theatre vibes. just. solid. and erm also v much enjoyed sleeping with the television on. c’etait toi was very sweet and the smooth voice mm, his accent threw me off a bit but that’s my problem. and close to the borderline was a good second-to-last always brought me back when i’d zoned out. did catch myself singin along when my coworker came in the back room where i was which was. er. we’ll oh well (i can’t fucking sing).

ok i have to go now but i’ve been alternating village green and twenty one in the shower (i lost the songs a lot in here so my thoughts are really jumbled and half done but i’ll write me down soon) and making my sister play doors n lemon twigs in the car. bops. i drive in a car like maybe once a week though so it’s slow going. i will sit perhaps soon and report back.

jesus that was a lot. oh welll. there’s more coming ;D

p.s. thank for this message it’s been making me happy when i come back to it.

GIVE ME MORE (not just putting this on claude. all of u come broaden my horizons pls)

#claude has been single-handedly providing me with all of my media intake for a month #simply bc i’ve been asking them too #you’re too kind #ILL BE BACK WITH MORE UNSOLICITED THOUGHTS

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bokettochild · 3 years

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Sisters, Scoldings and Seaside Memories

My excuse? I wanted to write the Oracles meeting the heroes and it spiraled into some Legend angst, because, well- this is me.

I do have a prompt I blame for this though, so go yell at the folks at @linkeduniverse-prompts for inspiring me with this idea.

The heroes had landed in Legend’s world again, jolted across time and space by yet another sudden switch, one that had left them more shaken and out of sorts than normal, and which, quite to everyone’s panic, had nearly made Four pass out. As was, the smithy had clutched ahold of the nearest hero at the moment, Legend, and refused to let go, resulting in his getting picked up and carried by the vet after they had figured out where they were.

The fact that they had been dumped so close to Legend’s house (they were only just a half an hour’s walk away) had unnerved the vet, and a few others, but there was no sign of monsters as far as their scouting crew could tell, even with the heavy rainfall, and if Hyrule, Wild and Twilight all agreed that the path was safe, then no one else was going to be the one to question them. After all, if you can’t trust the two best survivors and the best tracker on their team, who could they trust?

Ravio had greeted the group with open arms and cheerful welcomes, pulling the sopping smithy out of Legend’s hold and cooing when the multi-colored hero hadn’t even protested. Legend didn’t appear too very put out about it either, just shaking his head with a smile that he hid behind dripping bangs as he’d removed his shoes and barked orders at the rest of them to do the same.

While Legend stoked the fire and grabbed a blanket for Four, who Ravio was settling in his own favorite overstuffed arm-chair (if Ravio hated Legend's rocker, then Legend had already condemned that chair to the furthest corners of the dark world), the rest of the heroes stood about toweling themselves off and looking around. Ravio had reorganized again, although he’d left a few things, like the strange mask on the wall and a few other decorations, alone. It looked nice, cozier, although a bit less like a shop. When asked why, the merchant had waved off the curious looks from both the heroes and his housemate.

“I figured with all y’all visiting so much I’d probably better work out of the shed. It took a bit of tidying up- now Mr. Hero, don’t look at me like that, it was a mess! Anyways, I tidied it up, moved most of the things into the basement where you can get at them easier, Mr. Hero, and set up shop! Now y’all won’t have to worry about my things getting in the way.” Ravio smiled brightly as he finished, patting Four’s head and ignoring the smithy’s irritated look and looking pointedly at Warriors instead.

It was clear that Ravio’s adoption of Legend and Twilight’s use of the word ‘y’all’ was bothering the poor captain immensely.

The evening progressed as usual, with Ravio humming off key as he bustled about the house making ready the bedrooms for the heroes’ use. Wild, perhaps in wake of the pie incident, had finally been granted access to the kitchen, which allowed him to make dinner while the others offered Ravio their aid.

As “host” Legend had been assigned the task of sitting with Four until the smithy felt a bit better. The vet had at first protested leaving all the work to the others, but Ravio had finally persuaded him by pointing out that Mr. Smithy shouldn’t be left alone to stew too much in his thoughts, and wouldn’t Mr. Hero like to make sure the Hero of the Four Sword was quite alright in this particular Hyrule? Why that worked, or why Ravio had used that specific wording was unknown to the others, but Legend caved quickly after that, changing into a horridly oversized tunic and joining Four on the couch, the smithy leaning against him while the two talked over mundane things like metal imbalances in weapons and other such matters.

Time hadn’t been able to hide a snort of laughter as he caught wind of Four very casually explaining proper cooling methods to use on newly forged swords to a flushed veteran, and Legend had looked one instant away from snapping back about a recent mishap involving such a task, only stopped the smith’s continued softness of voice and weary eyes.

The knock on the door only sounded however, once most of the others had already bustled into the kitchen, leaving Legend and Four to eat their dinner together where the smith would be most comfortable and Legend couldn’t scold Twilight for his ‘wolfish’ manners at the dinner table.

Considering the vet had trouble keeping himself clean, Warriors had quietly commented that maybe the other boy didn’t exactly have room to be complaining about table manners.

The sound at the door was lost to those in the kitchen as they chattered and laughed, but to the two heroes in the living room it was clear as day, and startled them both so much that they both fumbled with their bowls, violet clashing with brown as sheepish smiles marred both their faces, light laughter on their lips at their shared startle.

The knock sounded again, this time urgent, repetitive and with a desperate air.

Amusement flickered to worry as Legend had risen from the couch, the line of his shoulders tight with worry as he’d reached for the sword he’d left at the door before even daring to lay his fingers on the door handle. Four’s own hand had scrabbled for his blade, but he’d remained sitting, tense and alert with his ears pricked forwards and eyes sharp against whatever might be outside.

There were a few things Legend was expecting to see when he’d opened the door; royal guards coming for the bounty that the king had still failed to lift from him, despite most all of Hyrule knowing by now of his innocence of the crimes attributed to him, or maybe it would be a villager desperately reporting a monster attack down in Kakariko, he had thought it strange they had been dumped so conveniently close to home with no danger immediately evident.

What was on the other side however was not any of the things on his mental list.

Three cloaked figures stood outside the door, two of them nearly looming over him as a pair of sharp blue eyes stared at him from beneath the shade of a hood, stern and wary, but not entirely devoid of concern. “Link! Oh, thank heavens you’re here!”

“Nayru?” The vet blinked in surprise, gaze falling first on the Oracle in front of him and then to her sisters, standing behind her and wrapped tightly against the rain. And for lack of anything better to say, or even think, he opened the door a bit wider, motioning vaguely with the sword still in his other hand. “Come in.”

Four’s eyes followed the three girls as green, red and blue had brightened the dimming room, the bright hair and clothes of the three Oracles strangely out of place in the muted tones of Legend and Ravio’s house. Legend stashed his sword back against the wall, taking the cloaks from the three ladies and hanging them on hooks with everyone else’s as Nayru turned to him with her face drawn and eyes flickering sternly.

“Link.” Nayru began, frowning down at the vet, who stared up at her with similar seriousness. “It has come to my attention that there has been a temporal and chronological anomaly that seems to have been following you, I’ve come to ask-”

“Four!” Farore’s trill broke through the tense atmosphere as the Oracle of Secrets rushed over to bundle the Hero of Four Swords into a hug. “How? Oh, my stars! It’s been so long! You look so much older!” The girl exclaimed, holding the sheepish smithy at arm's length and inspecting him. “I haven’t seen you in forever! Although, I suppose it seems like less time for you. Linky! How on earth did you rescue him?” That stopped the smithy silent, and he stared up at the greenette before him curiously as she chattered on, worry in her eyes. “Is that why he looks ill? Did you-”

“Farore.” For maybe the first time in his life, Legend actually managed a half decent growl. Sure, he still squeaked a bit, but it was low and harsh enough to nearly count.

“How-” Nayru frowned, blinking slowly at the smithy seated on the couch while Din waved to him quietly.

“Boys, is everything-” Time’s voice was cut off as the three Oracles spun to stare at him, color draining from their faces as Din buried her face in her hands, Farore tensed and Nayru stiffened, sharp blue eyes turning to Legend with a glare.

“I told you to never play with the Harp of Ages!”

“I didn’t!” Legend snapped back, glaring up at the older girl with something similar to a pout. For the other two heroes, had it not been for the painful tension of the situation, they may have smiled at how much the interaction looked like a pair of siblings arguing over a valued toy.

“Then how is he-” Nayru flung a hand out to point at Time, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. “-here?” The Oracle faltered, gaze turning back to Time in confusion before settling on Legend again. “Wait, which hero is that again?”

“Ouch.” Time deadpanned, completely on instinct.

“Hero of Time.” Legend returned with a scowl.

“Wait.” Farore stared from one hero to another in confusion. “Isn’t he dead? Linky, are you- have you been rescuing-”

“This one didn’t die.” Legend returned, looking increasingly done with the situation while Time and Four both winced.

“Split timelines, remember, Fare?” Din offered with a pained smile.

Nayru scowled, pinching the bridge of her nose as her other hand settled on her hip. “Link, I swear, the Harp of Ages isn’t even supposed to be able to cross realities! Do you know what you’ve done? Link, I know you miss her, but searching across time and space for her just doesn’t work! You’re going to-”

“I didn’t use the freaking harp!” Legend shouted, and to the surprise of both of the others, tears were gathering in his eyes. “So could you just not-” The vet’s voice broke as teary indigo glared up into startled ocean blue. “Could you just not bring that up? I know better, Nayru! Besides, which one of us is it that broke the timeline last time, huh?”

“That wasn’t me.” The blue-haired maiden sighed. “We both know I had no control over any of what happened. But your point stands, I’m- I’m sorry for accusing you.”

“Good.” Legend wrapped his arms around himself, a single tear trickling down his scowling face as Din flew over and wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, Sunshine, she didn’t mean it! We’re just worried is all, you know that, right?” The vet didn’t answer, but he did melt into the hold of the young woman as she patted his back gently.

The others chose that moment to make their respective appearances, peeking around Time to see Nayru standing awkwardly beside the embracing Oracle and Hero while Farore and Four exchanged a Look.

“Legend, who is this?” Hyrule frowned, instant regret flooding over his face as he saw Legend swipe the end of his over-long sleeve over his face with a violent sniffle and a huff, releasing Din as the red-head sighed sadly.

“The Golden Goddesses.” Time answered instead, nodding politely to the three ladies, who all offered him awkward smiles in return.

“The Oracles actually.” Nayru corrected with a strained smile. “Apologies, Forest Hero.” She inclined her head respectfully. “I meant no disrespect, it’s only that you are quite similar in appearance to another hero from this world, one that is near and dear-” The woman’s voice stuttered to a halt as she stared at the others peeking out from behind the eldest hero.

The room fell to silence for a brief moment as Nayru’s face fell, eyes widening dramatically as her shoulders slumped. “Is that- Link, how many Heroes of Courage are in your home?”

“Nine.” Legend huffed, crossing his arms and looking anywhere else but at the girl. “Counting me anyway.”

“Nine Heroes of Courage.” The Oracle repeated, dumbstruck, before rubbing her hands over her face. “That’s like half of all of Hylia’s Heroes in all! Why? Why would so many be gathered in one place? How did you even meet them?”

The vet shrugged, still not meeting the baby-blue eyes that turned his way in desperation. “A lizard. Also, portals.”

From where she was now sitting next to Four, Farore nodded. “That sounds just bizarre enough to be true.”

At Nayru’s nod of agreement, Din reached out to ruffle Legend’s pink hair. “Just like you to get pulled along in something like that, isn’t it, Link?”

The soft chuckle earned a hesitant smile from the vet as the others pushed further into the room, only to freeze again as Nayru’s startled again, staring across the room at Warriors, eyes full of horror. “Oh no. Not you!”

The captain blinked in surprise, offense taking over as he stared at the young woman. “Excuse me?”

Nayru shook her head, no long paying attention as she cupped her cheeks. “No, not the blasted Hero of Warriors! Oh, why me!”

“Okay, now that’s just offensive.” The captain huffed, crossing his arms indignantly as Legend chuckled softly.

Sharp blue eyes made the captain still again as the Oracle of Ages whimpered softly. “Of all the people in your home, Link, you had to have the one Hylian that my daughters obsess over? Why?”

All eyes turned to the vet, who now looked similarly dumbfounded and horrified, blinking slowly at nothing as one hand buried itself in his long bangs. “My niece has a crush on-” the vet viably gagged, face screwing up as he looked up to meet the confused stare of the captain, “-Oh my gross!”

“Seriously?” Warriors huffed with a glare before throwing his hands up, voice raising slightly as he spoke. “Could someone kindly explain why all of you suddenly find me disgusting?”

“Not you.” Din laughed. “My nieces just have something of an obsession with you, and Nayru’s sick of it. Add to that that-”

“Of all the people,” Legend interrupted with a horror filled mumble. “For my nieces to have a crush on, it had to be my brother? Just- oh that is just so incredibly gross!” Violet met twinkling red as the vet leaned back to stare at Din. “Why do the ladies in my family always have such weird taste in men?”

“Says the guy who had a crush on his now sister.” Farore sniggered, now fully wrapped up in the blankets with Four, despite no one having noticed either of them move. The smithy didn’t appear to mind either, his smile matching that of the Oracle of Secrets’, even if he didn’t appear to know exactly what was going on any more than the rest of them.

“It wasn’t a crush!” Legend near shrieked, stiffening as his face turned nearly as red as the long hair that shimmered in the firelight behind him. “You get asked to dance by a girl you don’t know and see how you act!”

Nayru, now somewhat recovered, grinned impishly at the blushing hero. “That’s right, besides, I’m pretty sure our little brother had a crush on a certain farm girl.”

“I didn’t like Ropely like that!” The vet huffed, brightening further. “Or Malon, if that’s what you’re implying. She’s my freaking cousin and that would just be gross.”

“Malon is your what now?” Time blinked, confused.

“I have a Malon in my time too.” Four offered, very unhelpfully, as the eldest hero looked like he was descending into mental acrobatics. “She works near castle town and even lives on a ranch. I think Malons are a constant in our worlds, just like Zeldas.”

“I don’t have a Malon...” Wind mused quietly while Time began to look increadibly distressed.

“It’s a family name.” Legend huffed, rolling his eyes as his blush began to fade. “Mine was named after our great-something-gramma. The same is probably true of Mamalon, Time. She’s probably named after an ancestor from Four’s time or something.”

“Great!” The smallest Oracle exclaimed with a clap of her hands. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, can I please make you recognize that my babies are in one place for once?”

Her sisters stared at her, blinking slowly. “Um, Fare, that’s sort of why Nayru just had a freak out?” Legend snorted but his...sister? Ignored it.

“Yes but,” Farore nodded at Four, who she’d once more wrapped in her arms. “Look!”

And they did. Four was cuddled up with a resigned smile, looking positively tiny in the Oracle’s hold and, admittedly, rather cute. There was not one person in the room left unaffected, and several actually cooed when Farore hugged him tightly, burying her face in the smithy’s hair. “All of my babies, I love you all so very much!”

Warriors laughed at that, shaking his head. “What, do the Golden Goddesses have favorite heroes too? I thought that was just Hylia!”

“Unfortunately, that is the case.” Nayru shrugged. “We can’t help getting attached, just like any other Hylian.”

“Who are who’s favorites?” Wind chirped; eyes eager as he stared from one Oracle to another.

It was Din who answered, wrapping her arms around Legend’s shoulders as she stood behind him, smile warm even in the chill of the evening as she stared at the sailor hero. “Sunshine here’s mine, he’s my baby brother after all!”

“Adopted, as all of our other siblings are.” The Oracle of Ages interjected, earning her a pout from her sister and a laugh from the heroes.

“Nayru’s favorite is the Hero of Time, it’s why she calls him by a nickname, and Farore, well...” The red-head grinned to where the youngest of the three Oracles was cooing and fussing over Four. “I think you can guess.”

“Do any of you have second favorites?” Wind pressed, curiosity flickering in ocean blue and silver.

“I haven’t had enough experience with most of the other heroes to really say, although the Hero of Wild’s never fails to make me laugh when I watch him through Nayru’s mirrors.” The Saesonal Oracle laughed, making the hero in question flush lightly. “Both for his pranks and clever antics, and, of course, having a horse named after you means you simply have to adore the owner!”

“Farore has several favorites, she’s just only ever interacted with Link and Four.” Nayru chuckled. “She’s quite fond of those who had to strive for Courage though, so I suppose the Hero of Hyrule and the Hero of Winds likely tie for her second favorite.” The two boys in question grinned brightly at each other. “As for myself, I find that as the Keeper of Time, I have quite the fondness for its hero. Although, my baby brother and brother-in-law are also dear to me.” Twinkling blue settled on Sky’s flushed face as the Oracle winked. “Hylia could have chosen no one better to be her lover, and I approve the match wholeheartedly.”

Sky proceeded to flush a color o one had known existed and quickly lower himself to the floor, smiling madly and covering hisface with his hands, earning tender laughter from the blue-haired maiden as she turned her attention back towards the other heroes.

“And for some reason, I’m the only hero left unfavorited.” The captain sulked.

“If it’s any consolation.” Farore called out. “Our other baby sister thinks you’re cute! She says she’s glad you married her daughter!” The Captain Hero choked, and it was only due to Twilight thumping the others back that the poor man didn’t choke right then and there. “The same goes for the Twilight Hero, Lolia absolutely adores him!”

“How did the same goddess choose us both? We are nothing alike?”

Warriors coughed in what might have been agreement.

Farore only shrugged. “I suppose it’s the same reason she adores Ravio so much, it’s the hero who makes an impression on her world that earns her favor.”

The heroes in question took their time processing that, and in the meantime, Legend darted off toe retrieve dry things for his elder sisters, only to come back to Ravio chattering to the three, who’d now gathered on the same couch as Legend and Four had been on earlier, all answering his questions fondly and politely while Farore continued to suffocate Four with hugs. The smithy didn’t seem to mind though, resting easily, eyes glimmering reddish-brown in the fire-light as the Oracle of Secrets toyed with his ong hair.

“I brought warm clothes.” Legend called, offering the things with a brief shuffle of his feet. “They’re Fable’s, but I don’t think shell mind.”

Ravio frowned, looking up at the offered garments with furrowed brows. “Are you sure that will warm them enough, Mr. Hero? It would be horrible if your poor sisters caught cold!” Grenn flickered knowingly, and Legend huffed as he met the expectant gaze.

“Fine, I’ll brew some cider, since I expect that’s what you suggest?”

“Oh! Mr. Hero, how kind of you! I didn’t mean to ask, but since you’ve offered I’m sure your lovely sisters will love to have some!”

Din straightened in her seat, eyes sparkling brightly. “Cider? Oh, Link! I haven’t had your cider in ages! Please make some! I’d actually kill for a cup about now!”

And really, who was the veteran hero to argue with the will of the Oracle of Seasons?

“He’s made you cider before?” The Oracle of Ages frowned.

“Oh, all the time! The whole circus troupe loved it! Auntie Impa always used to beg him for the recipe, but it was that one thing she could never convince him about. It’s absolute heaven, Nay! You’re going to love it!”

The bluette huffed, crossing her arms and faking a put. “He never made me any cider.”

“Because you tried to kill me!” Legend’s voice called back from the kitchen, making the three girls startle slightly. “If you hadn’t, maybe you could have tried some along with Ralph and Raven.”

“I wasn’t- I was- Link!” Nayru spluttered as a cackle arose from the kitchen. “I was under mind control!”

“Still tried to kill me!” The vet chirped back with far too much cheer considering what he was saying. And really, none of the others could argue his point, either because they didn’t understand what was being discussed or because it was true.

Cider was passed around after a brief wait, during which the others had made idle small talk and Farore had finally agreed to release Four from her grasp. The short hero still sat at her side, trading smiles with the three Oracles as he chatted amiably with them, clearly familiar with all three and quite happy to see them again, even with the drama from before.

No one brought up what Farore had meant about ‘rescuing’ him.

When Legend finally emerged from the kitchen, Ravio’s tray stacked high with mugs of steaming cider, silence had quickly fallen save for the quiet sips and louder slurps of the three as Legend handed out the mugs, finishing with the three Oracles and promptly plopping himself down in their midst, entirely uncaring of the looks they exchanged over his head while Four shifted a bit closer to his brother.

“Link,” Nayru settled her mug in her lap and stared over at the pink-haired hero, unfortunately gaining the attention of the rest of the chain in the process. “About earlier, I really am sorry for accusing you. It was wrong of me to assume-”

“You already apologized, it’s fine.” Legend cut her off, yawning softly as he sipped his cider.

“No, it’s not. But I’d like to make it up to you.” The mug was set aside as long fingers had begun to glow with a soft blue, catching the vet’s eyes and making him stare as the Orale of Ages waved her fingers gently, a blue orb appearing in her grasp as a soft smile graced her delicate features. “Anything you’d like to see, baby brother?”

Violet eyes stared fixed on the orb, glistening slightly with wonder as the vet floundered, nearly spilling his cider only to be rescued by Four’s quick thinking as the smithy removed the mug from his grasp. “A-anything?”

“Anything.” The Oracle reaffirmed.

Legend stammered softly for a moment. “C-Could I see Raven? Where he is now?”

There was some murmuring from the others, curiosity and confusion in their tones as Nayru frowned. “Raven lived four-hundred years ago, Songbird, he’s dead now.”

“Oh- uh- I knew that.”

“I can show you what he was doing today four-hundred year ago though.” She laughed softly, spinning the orb in her hands slowly before turning it to face Legend. The veteran hero stared intently, brows furrowing slightly before his eyes widened and he was pushing back into the couch and away from the viewing orb.

“Oh yuck! Nayru! That- ew!” At the girls’ laugher he shot them all a glare. “I did not need to see a woman eating my mentor’s face!”

“That would be kissing.” Time smirked. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“That’s my ancestor though!”

“And I knew that would happen.” Nayru giggled. “That was a prank, here’s the actual thing.” A small child and a man looking suspiciously like Time appeared on the surface of the orb, both lying on the floor of what might have been a farm-house as the little one played with a few small toys, the man watching with a fond gaze as he relaxed, looking as if he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“They look happy.” Legend hummed, gaze softening as he watched the duo a moment more before smiling up at his sister. “Thanks.”

The bluette smiled in return. “I accused yo twice though, so you may have a second. What else would you like?”

Anyone who was watching could see the conflicted emotions flying through Legend’s eyes as he stared at the now blank orb, the vet fidgeting with his rings and long sleeves as he gnawed his lower lip, torn about something that remained unknown to the others but clearly was tearing him up inside. At long last however, the vet’s voice, small and vulnerable, more so than they’d heard even when he was half asleep, spoke his request. “I’d like to see her.”

Ocean blue eyes softened as the Oracle nodded, spinning her orb slowly before handing it over to the vet as the scene of a beach crossed the surface of the ball.

A girl with curly red hair and sparkling eyes sat on the beach, voice rich and lovely as she sang ou a tune that had the vet’s eyes watering as he smiled as the vision, his brothers crowding close curiously as several of them muffled soft gasps.

“Marin?” The voice of a boy rang from the orb, gentle, uncertain and young, but resemblant of Legend’s own in an odd, gentle way.

“Link! Don’t startle me like that!” The girl laughed, shaking her head and making her curls bounce as she smiled over at a boy maybe a bit older than Wind. The lad was dark haired, but pink showed through at his roots and while he carried a sword on his back, he looked relaxed and at peace with the world around him, face gentle and unmarred by worries or fears as he walked across the sand to where the girl sat. A dopey smile and light blush touched the kid’s face as the girl, Marin, gently patted the sand at her side. “Join me, you’re done running errands for everyone now, right?”

“For today.”

“Good.” The girl reached up, tugging ‘Link’ down next to her firmly. “Lay down.”

“What?”

“Lay down.” Marin ordered. “You need a break. You’re always running everywhere and helping eveyone else, you need a bit of time to yourself.”

A smile pulled at the boy’s features. “Yes ma’am.”

The girl snorted, but patted her lap and tugged at the green tunic of the other, resulting in him at last laying on the sand, head in her lap as she smiled down at him. “You’re going to rest now, because tomorrow is a busy day for us.”

“Oh?” Already there was a dreamy quality to the boy’s voice as he relaxed into the hold of the girl, her fingers tugging gently through tangled black hair as she nodded.

“Yes. We have to sleep in until nine, and then eat a big breakfast before taking a long walk on the shore. Then, you’re going to help me conquer a huge basket lunch before you can then defeat being awake for an hour. After that, we have to chase the tide until it tires, and then dance in victory over the ground that it’s lost.” The boy laughed softly, lashes already fluttering softly across rosy cheeks as the girl continued. “Then, you and I are going to sit here and watch the sun go down, and we will sing it to sleep along with the island until the sun comes up.”

“And what then?”

“And then we do as we please!”

“We build a fire.” The boy hummed. “And I’m going to make you cider so good you’ll be ruined for any of your silly teas.”

“Hey!” The girl huffed, purposefully jostling the lad’s head as she huffed down at him. “My teas are good!”

“Not as good as my cider.” The boy replied, opening one eyes to grin up at her, a cheeky smile on his face. “Just you wait, you’ll see.”

Marin shook her head, eyes glistening gently as she ran her fingers through Link’s hair again. “I suppose I will.”

The orb shattered as it hit the floor, dissipating instantly as the heroes collectively startled.

“Legend?” Four rested a hand on the vet’s shoulder, staring in concern at the other boy, who hid behind his bangs with a faint sniffle.

“Thanks , Nayru.”

“Do you want me to fix it? I can give you another-”

“No, I know what happens.” Legend waved her off, sighing heavily and offering a teary smile. “I just wanted to see her again.”

“Well then you should have said something!” Warriors exclaimed, catching the attention of all gathered as he stared at the vet, caught between a grin and a scowl “Had I known you were Marin’s prince charming I would have said something by now! For pities sakes, the girls have been trying to hunt down her world since the war ended!”

Legend blinked.

“She’s still not home?” Wind frowned. “But, it’s been months!”

“No one knew where she belonged, she didn’t even know, said she knew nothing of Hyrule’s history, only that there was a hero.” The captain shook his head. “Hard to believe the sweet hero she described is this here ass, but who am I to judge?”

“She’s alive?” Legend stared.

“Yes,” The captain smiled slightly, gaze warming as he met the vet’s. “But between Cia, Lana and Midna, we never-”

“Midna too!” Twilight exclaimed, pushing into Warriors’ line of vision with a shocked face and watching the captain immediately fly through every shade of shock imaginable.

“Love of the goddess...” Warriors breathed. “Both of you? The two famed sweethearts of my team are the biggest asses I know? You have got to be kidding me!”

The Oracles laughed, or in Farore’s case, cackled, at the plight of the captain, and the other heroes joined in.

“Wars, I’m not even mad.” legend chuckled, shaking his head, and Twilight nodded in agreement. “But I will say this, we can’t get to your Hyrule soon enough, and when we get there, Time, know for a fact that I don’t need to wait till I’m older to understand that thing earlier.”

“Okay, that's just gross!” Wind exclaimed. “I do not want to see Legend kissing someone! That’s just- oh yuck!”

The vet threw his head back and laughed, and no one could really help but join in. Except Wind, who scrunched up his nose in disgust while Wild and Hyrule shared a confused look.

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scotianostra · 3 years

Photo

October 5th 1785 saw a spectacular balloon flight by Italian aeronaut Vincenzo Lunardi from Heriot’s School, Edinburgh to Ceres in Fife, the first Scottish hydrogen-filled balloon take off.

When aeronautical pioneer Vincenzo Lunardi took off amid much fanfare from Edinburgh in his hot air balloon on what was to become Scotland’s first notable flight he probably had little idea where he would end up.

Driven by the winds, the adventurous Italian soared to an altitude of over 1,000 feet, drifting out across the Forth Estuary before making landfall at Lower Largo, on the Fife coast.

After a 46-mile journey blessed by clear skies, he finally touched down in a field to the east of the village of Ceres. A plaque marks the spot where the epic flight ended.

Hailing from the city of Lucca near Pisa, he prides himself on being 'the first aerial traveller in the English atmosphere'.

And it was while working as a secretary to the Neapolitan Ambassador in London, he made the trip to Scotland to show off his ‘aerial car’ to the population - a hydrogen-filled balloon made of 140m squared of green, pink and yellow silk.

After his successful journey, Lunardi rested in Cupar where he was received by many dignitaries and clubs and then invited to St Andrews by the “Gentleman Golfers”. Upon arrival in St Andrews on the 15th of October, Lunardi was made a member of the golf club, was given freedom of the town and a ball was hosted on his behalf. The next day he visited the University, and his only comment about our institution is that it is “furnished with a good library, and some very valuable ancient manuscripts”!!

Interest was such in the flamboyant Italian that the Glasgow council invited him to visit with his balloon.

Lunardi made his launch from the rear of St Andrews Kirk near Glasgow Green, and 'ascended into the atmosphere with majestic grandeur, to the astonishment and admiration of the spectators'.

Detaching a rope at back of church to begin his ascent into the sky, Lombardi was cajoled on by the sound of Glasgow's 27th Regiment playing, as well as the ringing of the church bells of all the kirks in the city.

The Glasgow Advertiser noted the next day that: “On Wednesday last Mr Lunardi fulfilled his promise in ascending in his aerial car from this city. Such a crowd of people assembled as I do not remember to have seen in a place of the kind before. The Green, the tops of the houses, and all places, were the sight could be had for nothing were immensely crowded. Many were amazingly affected. Some shed tears, and some fainted, while others insisted he was in compact with the devil, and ought to be looked upon as a man reprobated by the Almighty. And seems that given the hype surrounding his feat and the fact that he was described as a handsome young man who wore a brilliant uniform, Lombardi achieved something akin to sex symbol status with Glasgow’s female population”

The newspaper also reported how: “It is computed that there were upwards of 100,000 spectators assembled on this occasion, among whom were the greatest number of ladies ever seen in Glasgow, who were all very much interested in Mr Lunardi’s safety”

So great was the level of interest in him and his balloon that the balloon was exhibited (‘suspended in a floating state’) in the choir of Glasgow Cathedral, with an admission price of 1 shilling.

In total he made two flights from the back of the kirk, the first landing him in Hawick in the Scottish borders some 70 odd miles away from the city and the second in Campsie Glen in Milton of Campsie - just over 10 miles from Glasgow.

There is no doubt that he was treated like a celebrity in the city, with reports detailing how the Italian's praises were sung in the streets, while ladies 'conferred his name on some articles of dress' - with ‘Lunardi’ skirts decorated with balloon styles and the ‘Lunardi’ Bonnet, they were such a sensation they even merited a mention in the Rabbie Burns poem, To a Louse...

I wad na been surpris’d to spy You on an auld wife’s flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On’s wyliecoat; But Miss’ fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do’t?

We know his status within the city as Lunardi himself detailed his visit to Glasgow in a series of letters he sent to his guardian, which he called 'An account of five aerial voyages in Scotland'. And these letters help shed a fascinating light on the occassion.

He wrote, “I am already as well known in this city, as if i had resided in it for some months. As I paffed (walked) through the streets in the morning, a thousand eyes were fixed upon me, and if i remained in view for any considerable space, I had the pleasure of seeing the windows filled with eager beholders.”

While lodging in the city, Lunardi notes how he stayed at the Tontine Hotel in the Trongate area - which was destroyed by fire in 1911. He remarked that it adjoined “the most elegant Coffee-Room I have seen in Europe”. He also noted that he dined in The Saracen Head in Gallowgate on one occasion.

The University of St Andrews hols a copy of Lunardi’s book : “An account of five aerial voyages in Scotland” You can read more on it below.

https://special-collections.wp.st-andrews.ac.uk/2012/10/05/the-italian-and-his-balloon-an-account-of-five-aerial-voyages-in-scotland-by-vincenzo-lunardi/

#Scotland #Edinburgh #Fife #Glasgow #aeronaut.#italian #Balloon #history

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

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You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 3

The Wildest Times of the World

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 4.9k

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @iilovemusic12us @hesbuckcompton-baby @tvserie-s-world @whovian45810 If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Sorry this update took so long! But I hope y’all enjoy it :)

Warning(s): none :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

AO3 link

Chapter 3 let’s go!

Three chilly October days after Ron’s abrupt departure from London - which Juliet was still seething about - she arrived home from the store to a different person she expected to never hear from again. Lottie stood at the front door, muttering to herself about whether or not to knock. Juliet was especially surprised because it was raining, which would have normally kept the editor indoors if she could help it. Juliet watched a moment, not wanting to give away her presence immediately. It satisfied her to watch Lottie fret like this. After a few moments, Juliet caved and cleared her throat.

Lottie gasped as she whipped around, clutching at her chest. “Heaven's sake, Juliet! How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” Juliet said, intentionally vague. “Can I help you, Lottie?”

“Well…” Lottie hesitated, shifting her weight and toying with the fingertips of her gloves. “Shall we go in? I really need to speak to you.”

Juliet decided not to comment on Lottie’s self-invite into the house. She figured with no other job openings popping up, this could be her opportunity to try and gain back some favor at the London Pursuit. She couldn’t imagine that Lottie was here for a personal reason. That was not the sort of manager she was.

Once inside, Lottie followed Juliet to the kitchen - again, kindly not saying anything about the state of the house. Juliet set her grocery bags on the table before taking her coat off. Lottie shrugged hers off as well, removed her hat and gloves, and took a seat.

“Cuppa?” Juliet offered.

“Sure,” Lottie replied.

Juliet put the kettle on. Then she started unloading the bags.

“So, what did you want to speak to me about?” she asked, trying to sound as casual as she could.

“It’s the Albourne story,” Lottie said, voice tight, almost like she was spitting the words out. “All the other reporters are too busy to cover it. And if I have to go through the process of hiring someone new, we won’t get it in time.”

“I’ve already told you, I think it’s -”

“You needn’t remind me of your insolent remarks,” she snapped.

Juliet sighed, picked up a can of beans and placed it slowly in the cupboard, forming as polite a response as she could muster. But Lottie beat her to the next word.

“If you agree to cover this story, I’ll let you cover the war down there,” she said.

Juliet almost slammed the cupboard door shut in surprise. “What?”

“You can cover the war news from there,” Lottie repeated.

“Do you know something the rest of us don’t?” Juliet returned. “Because if you know the Germans are in Aldbourne and you haven’t said anything until now, you might be in trouble, Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Juliet. The Americans are there, you could write about them.”

Juliet bit back the snappy retort she had about that, and dialed it down. “Fascinating as the Yanks are, I reckon they’re not doing much actual fighting in Aldbourne. Unless you mean brawling in pubs.”

The English had almost adjusted to the American presence by now. However, Juliet had slipped out of more than one pub after a fight broke out between some bright-eyed, blue-blooded American who spoke too boldly about their importance in the war effort and an Englishman who naturally took offense to the effort of “our own lads” being minimized. It escalated. Drinks were thrown, followed shortly by fists. Others jumped in to either assist or attempt to separate the combatting parties, only to get swept up in the action either way. It was entertaining, sure, but Juliet thought it made rather a mockery of the term “Allies.”

“They’re doing something there,” Lottie insisted. “And I give you full permission to try and find out what. As long as you cover the story about the girl as well.”

“Observing Americans isn’t really covering the war, and you know it, Lottie,” Juliet said.

“I’m not sending a woman to the front line, there would be a mob at the office door,” Lottie said. “I personally don’t care if you want to go and get yourself shot, but your blood cannot be on my hands.”

Juliet had to concede that point. Other papers had already suffered the ramifications of sending women reporters even within the vicinity of the front. There were boycotts led by counter-feminist groups and concerned mothers about the message it sent about women’s roles. It was one thing for women to work while men fought the war, but to put them in the line of fire? That was just indecent.

“Well, good to know my life isn’t as much of your concern as public opinion,” Juliet joked.

Lottie frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Relax, Lottie, I’m taking the piss,” Juliet returned with a wave of her hand.

She paused, mulling over the offer Lottie was bringing. She wasn’t in much of a position to refuse work, but the idea of covering that gruesome story was almost too much to bear. Even if she was a bit interested in what the Americans were doing. Then, something else crossed her mind.

“Why do you want this covered so badly?” she asked.

Lottie’s face flushed and her mouth drew tight, which Juliet understood to mean the reason would not be to her liking. She braced herself.

“A family friend is with the Wiltshire police,” Lottie admitted. “He thinks it would look good for the department to solve a case like this and put the murderer away. And to have the press cover it, especially a London paper with circulation throughout the country.”

Juliet couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “You’re killing me, Lottie.”

“This is the deal I’m offering,” Lottie sighed. “I know you’re opposed to it, but this is the compromise I’m willing to make.”

Juliet considered her options. She did need the money. But the subject matter and the reasoning were so against her ideals and ethics as a journalist. How could she live with herself if she broke them for money? But there was her mother to consider as well. Which brought up another objection.

“Even if I wanted to,” she said. “I can’t. It leaves no one here to look after Mum.”

“I thought you had a brother,” Lottie returned.

“He lives on Guernsey,” Juliet reminded her, minding her tone so she wouldn’t sound too bitter. “Otherwise, I’m certain he’d be here.”

Lottie shifted uncomfortably. “I apologize. I forgot.”

“S’fine,” Juliet replied.

“Can’t you hire someone to look after your mother?” Lottie asked.

Juliet only raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her - as if to say, “you’ve seen the house, you think we can afford help?” Lottie understood the implication.

“What if…” Lottie trailed off, considering. “What if I hired someone to look after her?”

Juliet blinked. “That’s...generous of you, Lottie, but I’d never be able to pay you back or -”

“Don’t worry about that,” Lottie said. “I want this story and - believe it or not - I want it done well. I know you’ll handle it as tastefully as possible and you could really show that -”

She was cut off by the kettle screeching its completion to boil, so Juliet went to take it off the burner and fetch some tea cups. She poured the tea and served it, and Lottie thanked her quietly, almost abashed by her admission to decency. But there was something more.

“Really show what?” Juliet pressed.

Lottie heaved a defeated sigh. Like admitting this was something that exasperated her. “That women can handle tough topics. It’s not covering the war, but it’s a step in that direction.”

Juliet couldn’t help but agree. If women could handle murder and the investigation surrounding it, surely women could be seen as sensible enough to tackle tragedy on a larger scale. They weren’t going to faint at the sight of blood or burst into tears over sentimentality. She couldn’t help herself. Juliet wanted to be part of that narrative.

“Lottie, I’m surprised at you,” she teased. “I didn’t take you for such a feminist.”

Lottie’s jaw dropped and she gaped at Juliet, totally affronted at the suggestion. “I am no such thing!”

Juliet shrugged, unfazed. “Yeah, I probably wouldn’t be either if I had your tits.”

Lottie could only sputter in response and Juliet snickered before sipping her tea.

“Juliet!” Lottie scolded.

“I’ll do it,” Juliet said suddenly.

Lottie closed her mouth, stunned. “You’ll - you’ll do the story?”

“Yes,” Juliet assured her, smiling. “You’ve given me a real reason to. And if there’s someone here to look after Mum and I can get a bit of war news as well, then what choice do I have but to say yes? You drive a hard bargain, Lottie.”

Lottie’s relief was palpable. “Thank you, Juliet. Really.”

“When do I go?” Juliet asked.

“There’s a train to Aldbourne tomorrow morning at nine,” Lottie said.

“I’ll be on it.”

***

Aldbourne was probably a village that once called itself sleepy. But now it was overrun by Americans - mostly paratroopers - which created an upheaval the likes of which many residents had never seen before. There was life in the town. The Women’s Land Army, or “land girls” as they were called, were taking full advantage of the flirting opportunities that arose with these American men, who lacked British decorum and were therefore prime targets for a fling. As Juliet walked from the station to her lodgings, with all the people mulling through the heart of the village, she found it almost hard to believe she was there to report on a murder.

Lodgings were difficult to come by with the Americans billeted in just about any space they could fit. Even horses were having to share their stables. But Lottie pulled some strings and got Juliet a room above the Blue Boar, a pub. She wasn’t sure how much sleep she’d really be able to get with the noise of a pub below her, but she didn’t dare complain. Not when she was one step closer to getting what she wanted.

The owner was a portly, older gentleman by the name of Jacob Powell. His kind, round face welcomed Juliet warmly, and she was grateful for the reception. She didn’t want to infringe too much on his hospitality, so she refused a cup of tea for the moment, insisting she needed to get unpacked and to the police station as soon as possible.

“Oh, yeah, that's a gruesome business about the little girl,” Jacob said. “Are you really going to write a story about it?”

“I’m no Agatha Christie or anything, but I’m going to do my best,” she returned, keeping her tone light. She wasn’t in the habit of discussing a story with just anyone.

He shook his head. “It’s just a right shame.”

“Concisely put, Mr. Powell,” she replied. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Right, sorry,” he said bashfully, and he reminded her that the offer for tea still stood if she changed her mind before closing the door behind him.

First, Juliet set down her suitcase with her clothes. Second, she heaved her typewriter onto the desk in the corner of the room. It was beside the one window that looked out onto the street. Juliet approved of the set up since she liked natural light while she wrote. She got her things exactly where she wanted them, but hadn’t bothered to remove her hat and coat since she was going right back out. Securing her notebook, pen, and room key, she left.

The police station was one of the dullest she’d ever seen. Given the nature of the town, it didn’t surprise her. Lottie’s contact was Otis Allen, a lieutenant in the Wiltshire Police, who was still in Aldbourne to lead the investigation. He was a tall, thin man, with kind blue eyes and straw-like blonde hair. Rather unimposing for being in law enforcement. But Juliet observed right away the misshapen mound where his right ear should have been. He mentioned it before she had the opportunity to ask.

“Sorry about the grisly ear,” he said. “My gift from the Germans last time they had a go at us.”

“A bit rude,” she teased. “Flowers would have suited just fine, I think.”

He chuckled at that as he gestured for her to take a seat across from him at his desk. With that, she noticed a gnarled hand - the few fingers he had left were permanently curled under themselves. He disguised it fairly well with a glove, but she saw anyway.

“Those Jerries really overdid it on the gifts,” she remarked. “I bet it wasn’t even your birthday.”

He fully laughed at that and she noticed his expression softened. When they’d met, he’d been a bit rigid, but his muscles relaxed now, put at ease by her gentle humor.

“Thanks for that,” he said.

She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”

“For the jokes,” he answered. “Ever since that war, all I get are pitying looks or fear. Thanks for treating it like it’s...normal.”

“I’ll leave pity to the nurses,” she said with a smile. “Now, what have you got so far on the case?”

He went over the basics with her. In September, a six-year-old girl, Peggy Lee, was drowned in the tub, allegedly by her host, Meredith Fisher. Peggy had been with the Fisher’s since January with no reported issues. When Peggy did not arrive for school the next day, her teacher phoned the Fisher’s home with no answer. They chalked it up to Peggy being ill or some other explainable matter, and moved on. When she was absent the following day as well, they called again, and Meredith told them that yes, Peggy was ill, and could not come to school for a few days. Ashley Fisher, Meredith’s husband, was in London on business at the time, and when he returned at the end of the week, found Peggy’s body and called the police. Meredith claimed initially there was an accident, but evidence from Peggy’s autopsy proved foul play was involved. Juliet took fervent notes as Otis explained it all, trying not to get disgusted by the whole thing.

“Where is Mrs. Fisher being held now?” Juliet asked. “Surely not here in Aldbourne.”

“‘Course not, she’s in Trowbridge,” Otis assured her. “Mr. Fisher is here though, if you’d like to speak to him.”

She blinked. “Is he an expert on the case or something?”

“Well, no -”

“Then what insight could he possibly give me?”

“He’s a witness,” he reminded her.

“Investigators and lawyers question witnesses,” she said. “I need facts from experts to put the story into context. His testimony would only sway readers' emotions, and that’s not what I’m after.”

He smiled. “Well. You’re not like any reporter I’ve ever met.”

“I should hope not,” she returned. “I’m not covering this for the sensation. Why do you think I haven’t asked you where the Lee family is?”

His eyebrows went up a ways on his forehead. “You’re not going to interview them at all?”

She shook her head. “Nope. An interview with them is even less useful than an interview with Mr. Fisher. They weren’t even witnesses.”

His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “Right. Emotional appeal instead of factual.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And besides, I’m sure the last thing they need right now is some reporter sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I like you, Miss Fletcher,” he said simply. “You’ve got...surprising respect for this. And a good head on your shoulders.”

Juliet forced a smile to swallow her question if he’d be surprised by her if she were a man. She didn’t know where her control came from during interviews, but she was grateful for it.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said. “Lottie told me the goal was to get this story widely circulated, and I truly believe that’s possible with the facts alone. I don’t believe in patronizing the audience to get their attention.”

“You’ve got more faith in people than I do,” he scoffed. “But I like your style. I look forward to working with you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she returned. She did like Otis, even if he had briefly underestimated her. “Tomorrow I’ll be able to meet with the doctor who conducted the autopsy, yes?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The prosecution is having a psychiatrist evaluate Mrs. Fisher this week, so I’ll keep you updated on that as well.”

“I’d love an interview with the prosecutor too, if that’s possible,” she said.

“I’ll speak to him about it,” he told her. “Have a good evening, Miss Fletcher.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

They shook hands before she parted. She made her way back to the Blue Boar, dodging GIs all along the way. They were winding down for the day, it seemed, going for runs, dates, or drinks, depending on their mood. She got a whistle or two, which she ignored, mentally going over her notes. She was also relieved she wasn’t going to have to fight Otis on how to do the story. She really was getting free reign on how to put this all together, and she was excited by the opportunities that meant for her.

Her excitement was sucked away when she reached the Blue Boar and found her things had been hurled onto the street. Her mouth fell open. She had only just arrived, what on earth could she have done?

She marched toward the door, straightening up to her full height, prepared to demand an answer from Jacob. But she didn’t have to go far, he met her at the doorway, blocking her entrance with a glower on his face that could have melted snow.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” she demanded.

“I don’t want any of your sort staying in my establishment!” he shot back. “Did you think you could fool me?! I read the papers!”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” she returned. “What papers?!”

He pulled a rolled up newspaper out of his back pocket and threw it at her. She caught it and opened it with a snap. She recognized it as a society gossip periodical that she usually tried to avoid. On the side of the page, she read the headline “ARTHUR BURNS’ EX-FIANCE TURNS LADY OF THE EVENING?” with a photo of her leaving the hotel she’d met Ron in, looking furious as she absolutely was that day. Her heart dropped as she read the copy beneath.

Desperate times must truly call for desperate measures, it began. Juliet Fletcher, 31, who just earlier this year was scorned by Arthur Burns when he terminated their engagement, was spotted leaving a hotel after a rendezvous with a mysterious American. The receptionist, who wished to remain anonymous, said Fletcher returned the following day, found the Yank gone, and stormed out, seething.

‘It was clearly a dispute over money,’ the receptionist said. ‘They left the hotel together early in the morning, and she came back in the evening after he’d checked out. She was so sneaky about what she needed, I knew it couldn’t be anything respectable. And then to be as furious as she was about his leaving, it was obviously about an unpaid sum.’

Could it be that Miss Fletcher has fallen into disgrace after Mr. Burns left her? Could it be that she needed additional income after becoming accustomed to the Burns lifestyle? What else could possibly drive her to stoop to such lows?

The Burns family refused to comment for this story, and Miss Fletcher herself appears to be out of town at the moment. And who can blame her?

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” she cried. “It isn’t true!”

“Pictures don’t lie, missy,” Jacob practically spat. “Now clear off from my property or I’ll have the police on you!”

A small crowd had gathered to watch the confrontation unfold. Doubtless, the raised voices had drawn attention to them, but Juliet could not bring herself to care. The injustice of it made her blood boil. She squared her shoulders and planted her feet.

“It’s not true, you idiot!” she shouted. “This paper is known for misrepresenting the people they write about!”

“I said - CLEAR OFF, YOU!” he roared.

She scowled at him as fiercely as she could manage, but he slammed the door in her face. Head held high, she went and snatched her things off the ground, slinging them onto her shoulders before facing him again.

“THIS ISN’T OVER!” she hollered back. When she turned on her heel and saw the Aldbourne residents watching with avid interest, she snapped at them too. “Should we have sold tickets?! Mind your business, people!”

Properly scolded, they scattered like roaches. Juliet heaved a sigh, wondering where to point her feet. Fuming, she considered parking herself outside the door and shouting until Jacob had no choice but to hear her out, but she couldn’t risk arrest. Not when she was relying on the police as sources for her story.

Her thoughts were completely interrupted when a platoon of paratroopers jogged across the square from where she stood. Leading them was the man Juliet held solely responsible for all her troubles as of late - Ron Speirs. She told herself not to get distracted by the sweat on his brow or the way his backside looked in the little shorts he had on, and focus on what mattered. He was getting away with what had happened - or rather not happened - while she was publicly shamed. Abandoning her bags, she hurtled after the platoon, catching up with surprising speed in her heels.

“HEY!” she bellowed.

The whole platoon stuttered in their cadence, and the few in the back turned their heads at the sound of her voice. Ron either didn’t hear her, or ignored her, and she wasn’t sure which was more infuriating. She gained on them. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to get louder, absolutely refusing to be ignored.

“RONALD SPEIRS!” she yelled.

He called his men to a halt, stopping alongside them and turning to face her. He blinked in surprise at the sight of her - he had evidently not expected her here - but he didn’t say anything right away. She caught her breath as she marched up to him. This time, she was ready, wallet in her coat pocket. She whipped it out and brandished it like a sword.

“No one pays me a kindness and gets away with it!” she shouted, popping the wallet open and fishing out the bills she owed him. “That,” she slapped the first few onto his chest, and he caught them before they fluttered to the ground. “Is for my half of the hotel room!” She did not acknowledge the snickers that went through the platoon, and then forced a second handful of money into his hand. “And that is for the potatoes and cab fare!”

He looked levelly at her. “I really didn’t expect to be -”

“I don’t care what you expected!” she continued. “You left me to look like a prize idiot!”

He glanced at his platoon, who were murmuring to each other as speculation began about how their lieutenant knew this strange woman.

“I’d rather have this conversation in private if it’s all the same to you,” he said.

“It’s not all the same to me, you punk!” She accentuated this with a shove to his arm. He didn’t move, but it made her feel better. “You humiliated me in front of the stupid hotel girl, which has now resulted in me losing my lodgings, so yeah, I’m going to stand here and embarrass you in front of your little mates!”

“Juliet -”

“How dare you leave before I could pay you back!” she went on fiercely. “You said you’d be there! You lied right to my face! Like a - a - a liar!”

“Eloquently said,” he returned.

“I don’t need your wise-ass remarks!”

“Settle down.”

“I WILL NOT SETTLE DOWN!”

Her face was red with how much yelling she’d been doing, so she took a deep breath to collect herself. She felt a tingle in her throat, so she tried to clear it.

“I’m going to, though,” she said. “Not because you told me to, but because my voice is getting hoarse.”

He stared at her for a beat. “Okay. Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“The receptionist at the hotel in London spoke to a gossip columnist about seeing us together,” she said. “Now, the owner of the Blue Boar says he won’t have one of ‘my sort’ in his rooms.”

“I see,” he said with a nod. “I’ll sort it out.”

“No, I can’t owe you another favor,” she returned.

“So you just came over here to yell at me?” he asked, to clarify.

“And pay you back!” she insisted. “Now that’s been accomplished, we can part ways and I’ll never speak to you again. Starting now.”

“Juliet -”

“Starting now!”

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed away. He watched her go for a moment, enjoying the way her skirt swished around her legs, the shape of which he enjoyed more than he cared to admit. Shaking his head to clear it, he faced his men again. He noticed the stifled laughter behind their hands and smirks on their faces.

“Something funny?” he snapped with a scowl.

They straightened up and muttered quick “no, sir”s under his glare.

“Good, we’ve got a run to finish,” he said.

They continued down the road. But Ron knew just what he was going to do afterward.

***

Night fell over Aldbourne like a frigid shadow. Juliet, with aching feet and chattering teeth, took shelter in a phone booth across from the Blue Boar, having scoured the village for anywhere else to stay to no avail. And she was not a moment too soon in closing the booth door. Just seconds after she did, a soft rain began to patter against it.

She needed to call Lottie and see what her options were. She couldn’t stay in Aldbourne without a room, but that put everything on hold. She pushed the coins into the slot and called Lottie at home, adding guilt to her weariness.

“Hello?” came Lottie’s voice after just two rings, which relieved Juliet a little since it meant she was not in bed already.

“Lottie, it’s Juliet,” Juliet said. “Look, something’s happened and your friend Jacob’s given me the boot.”

“What?” Lottie questioned. “Why?”

“Some stupid fucking article accusing me of being a prostitute,” Juliet snapped.

“There’s no need for that kind of language,” Lottie replied coolly.

Juliet hesitated a beat. “Okay, given the nature of what I said, I’m not sure if you’re referring to ‘fuck’ or ‘prostitute.’”

“Both,” Lottie said, and before Juliet could protest, she went on. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”

Juliet explained everything - that her arrival went fine, but at some point during her interview with Otis, Jacob had read that article about the hotel nonsense, and had refused to let her back inside.

“Now I’m stuck in a phone booth,” she finished.

A beat passed and Juliet feared for a fleeting second that her time had run out. She dug in her pocket for more coins, but Lottie spoke again.

“So...what were you doing in a hotel room with an American?” she asked.

“That’s your takeaway from everything I just said?!” Juliet cried, incredulous. “Lottie, I’m exhausted and freezing, I need a place to stay or a ticket home!”

“Was it something indecent?” Lottie pressed.

“No!” Juliet returned. “Look, I got drunk, I almost got hurt, and he just looked after me for the night, but nothing happened, I swear. Believe me, he’s the last man on Earth I’d ever want to shag, even if he is ridiculously good loo-”

She stopped suddenly and whipped around when she heard a knock on the door. There he stood. Ronald Speirs, looking expectantly at her.

“Son of a BITCH!” she swore, stamping her foot.

“I beg your pardon!” Lottie gasped.

“Must go, Lottie, my mystery American has returned,” Juliet said through clenched teeth. “Aldbourne’s about to have another murder on its hands.”

She hung up harshly, slamming the phone down before Lottie could protest. Then she wrenched the door and faced him, eyes blazing. She opened her mouth, preparing to dismiss him completely, but he beat her to the punch.

“Jacob changed his mind,” he said. “You can have your room back.”

She deflated and blinked at him in surprise. “I said I didn’t want -”

“Do you want a bed for the night or not?” he cut across her.

Her drained muscles screamed at her to agree, but her pride was stronger. She started to refuse him again.

“Buy me a drink, and we’ll call it even,” he said, as if reading her mind.

“That’s not really the same,” she argued.

“I didn’t go out of my way,” he told her. “The Blue Boar is where the officers drink. It came up, I explained, simple as that.”

“Okay, one drink.” She held his gaze. “And then we’ll never speak again.”

He looked into her eyes, so long and so intensely, in any other context she would have thought he might kiss her. But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t do anything. He just shrugged, turned, and walked back toward the pub. She didn’t totally blame him since the rain was beginning to come down harder. With a defeated sigh, she scrambled to collect her things and followed him.

#band of brothers #ron speirs #juliet fletcher #ron speirs x ofc #hbo war #you better you better you bet series #hbo war fic #band of brothers fic

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sleepy-sunlight · 3 years

Note

Hey have you been busy or have you not been getting many requests? I miss your writing! If you have the time could you write something where the inquisitor has a child (around 5 years old) and the child stays with Cullen and the others at Skyhold whenever the Inquisitor is away? Thanks, I hope you've been doing well 💞💞

I’m a mix of busy and living for the next time I sleep so it’s been a bit messy life-wise but I’m trying to start things back up! Ideally, I’m trying to set up a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule where I post a prompt on one of my three blogs each day because I should be totally free during those days!

Anyways, thank you for your patience, and have a fantastic day!

———————————————————————————————————–

Cullen grew up the second oldest of four. Most of his early childhood was spent parceling out responsibilities for watching over Branson and Rosalie with Mia.

Branson was the epitome of what his mother had liked to call a ‘wild child’. He’d climb up to the tallest trees in Honnleath and when he found himself too high to properly come back down his solution was to swing from the branches until they broke. One could only guess how well that turned out.

Rosalie on the other hand was a fan of collecting every insect or small animal that crossed her way. Cullen could still remember the yelps his mother would try to hide at the sight of Rosalie holding a long, winding centipede in her palms. The worst was a feral fox cub that’d subsequently became loose in the house. That’d been an eventful evening.

Neither sibling was ‘ideal’, but he supposed even he had his own faults.

Nevertheless, it made Cullen oddly ideal with children. For all his military abilities and fighting talent, most were astonished at how in the snap of one’s fingers, Cullen could stop even the worst wailing from a child. Josephine once said she’d “pay him double his Inquisition salary to babysit her siblings.”

Cullen had responded with “what salary?”

Considering money was Josephine’s department, the subject was swiftly dropped.

However, that didn’t take away from the actual babysitting Cullen found himself in.

Very few, after all, expected the Inquisitor to have a child.

Your child’s name was Olivia – just five years old and more of a firecracker than you were. Her hair was often in braids, so for all her running and scrambling about, she wouldn’t get caught on anything. For her birthday Varric had given her a little yellow ribbon, and she’d wear it to sleep if you didn’t insist otherwise.

She was a troublesome little thing, but she was one of the few bright things in your world, and you clearly treasured her. She’d race to you as fast as her legs could carry her when you’d return to Skyhold and every time you’d scoop her up in your arms and swing her until you both were left dizzy and stumbling throughout the courtyard. No matter where you went you always came back with something for her, and whether a fanciful toy or simply a flower, Olivia adored it.

She even had a secret hiding place for all the presents you brought her. She’d shown Cullen one evening and despite knowing just about every detail of the gifts, he’d still ask like it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on them.

Curiously enough, Olivia had a fondness for the Commander. Often times when you and Cullen would take walks along the barracks Olivia would follow behind, holding loosely onto the end of his shroud. She liked it especially when each of you would hold one of her hands and swing her back and forth. It was… domestic in a sense. Far more than Cullen ever expected for himself.

He’d hardly even expected to meet someone like you – so full of life and passion for all that you did. You were a breath of fresh air in the coldness he’d so well known. Cullen hoped Olivia hadn’t noticed how he stared but she was nosy – she took that from you.

She’d been given plenty of opportunities to be nosy since you’d left, asking Cullen specifically to watch over her.

“I won’t be long,” You’d told him the evening before you left. “But there are reports of red templars making advancements towards a village and I-”

“I know,” Cullen hesitated but set a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t know if his smiles helped you at all, but he offered one anyway. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll help however I can, including taking care of Olivia.”

You let out a sigh of relief and laughed. “Thank you I-” You couldn’t figure the words and so instead hugged him, winding your arms around his neck. “You’re the best.”

He was left stunned for a moment. It wasn’t like he’d experienced much affection in his life once he’d left for the Templar order – so much as a hug was almost foreign to him. However hesitantly, he managed to return the gesture. His hovering hands shifting to hold you tight.

He forgot how much he missed such a simple thing as a hug.

You left shortly thereafter both of you a little sheepish but warmhearted, nonetheless. Olivia followed you to Skyhold’s gates, holding your hand but still stumbling to keep up despite her best efforts. When you knelt to meet her, she nearly ran right into you, only caught by your grip shifting to her shoulders.

“Woah there, soldier!” You laughed softly. “You know you can’t come with me.”

Olivia immediately began to pout. “But I’ll be good! I promise!”

“It’s not a matter of being good, it’s dangerous.” You smiled warmly, squeezing her shoulders. “Even for the toughest kid around! You got to stay here, keep everyone safe.”

Before Olivia could object you spoke once more, lowering your voice to a whisper. “In fact, I’ve got a super-secret mission for you. I need you to personally look after Commander Cullen – keep him out of trouble.”

Olivia shot a quick glance to Cullen who stood a little way off, pretending to look at a set of reports.

“Okay! I know you like him!”

Cullen had to work very hard not to look up and see your expression in that moment. But he supposed he wouldn’t want you to see how red he’d become either. At the very least, he heard a gasp.

“I-It’s ah – it’s our little secret though! Don’t forget, okay?”

Olivia nodded. “I won’t!”

“Promise?”

Olivia huffed. “I promise!”

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I love you, Olivia.”

Cullen looked up to see Olivia jump up to hug you, burying her head in the crook of your neck and failing to hide the tiniest sniffle. She always hated seeing you go.

“I love you too.”

With a wave of your hand, you and the rest of your team left. Olivia refused to budge an inch before you disappeared beyond sight. Even then she only moved a few steps forward, perhaps in hopes to catch one last glimpse of you.

“Miss them already, do you?” Cullen approached the child steadily, making his heavy boots clearly known to not startle her. He even spoke quietly.

Olivia gave a meek nod, wiping at her eyes quickly.

Cullen pretended not to see – if she was anything like you it’d only make her more embarrassed.

“I miss them too.” Cullen said. “But while they’re gone… would you want to sneak a few extra treats from the kitchen? I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Olivia perked up just a tad. Cullen offered his hand that practically swallowed Olivia’s when she accepted it. But she smiled.

“Okay.”

She hid an entire extra loaf of cinnamon bread in Cullen’s shroud. It was awful, thinking of the sugar and sticky cinnamon that was sure to attract insects of all sort, but worth it. She giggled the whole time, and still considered it an ‘extreme scheme’ even though no one cared and at least three kitchen-maids watched them the entire time – pretending to hide little Olivia from everyone else.

She didn’t even bother to have the bread cut into slices, sitting in his office breaking it apart in chunks and pieces.

“I can cut it if you want, you know.” Cullen told her, his brows furrowed.

“No, I like it this way. It’s a surprise every time!” Olivia raised her head to the Commander, swinging her legs in the seat across his desk. “Do you want some? I’ll share, but you can’t tell Varric! He’ll get jealous.”

“Why would he-” Cullen immediately remembered Varric’s proud title as Olivia’s ‘partner in crime’ and found the answer for himself.

Admittedly Cullen would’ve said no. He never had much of a sweet tooth. However, Olivia clearly wanted to give him a piece and already had two corners of the bread pinched between her fingers to give him. It was just something a person couldn’t say no to.

“I’d love a piece.”

It was just as sugary and sappy as he’d imagined.

“Oi, metal britches!”

The yelling came a few hours later, when evening started to paint the sky overhead and the sun dripped in through his windows. It didn’t take a genius to recognize Sera.

She nearly kicked the door in, and as if that wasn’t enough, slammed her firsts against his desk with enough ferocity to shake the very earth. The mischievous glint in her eyes was anything but good.

“As appealing as the name ‘metal britches’ is, could we try another name next time?” Cullen frowned. “Perhaps my real one?”

“Nah, I like this one better. Listen, I’ve got this great idea for an ambush on this Orlesian snobs – and I know you hate Orlesians just as much so I was thinking I could get your head of your ar-”

Cullen nearly jumped out of his seat trying to stop Sera. “Reserve the language for when children aren’t around?”

“Wha-” Sera wrinkled her nose only to twist her head and see little Olivia, watching Sera with the utmost awe. Olivia happened to look up to Sera with her ‘fun-loving’ pranks. It brought comfort when you were gone. “Oh! Pipsqueak! I was wondering where you’d run off to!”

She peered over to see the last bits of the cinnamon bread. “Mind if I swipe a piece?”

“Mm!” Olivia eagerly gave Sera the rest. Of all the people Sera loved to torment, Olivia was never one of them. If anything, she had a soft spot for the child.

“Oh no that ain’t necessary but you’re a sweet thing for offering.” Sera leaned in to Olivia, pretending to whisper, but only brought her voice louder for Cullen to clearly hear. “See, I was trying to get Mr. Boring over here to have some fun for once, but I don’t think he’s gonna budge.”

“Cullen!” Olivia exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks.

Sera stopped her further protests. “I know, what a bore! But I’m thinking if he won’t have some fun – why don’t we?”

“Now Sera-” Cullen rose from his seat. “The Inquisitor asked me specifically to look after Olivia while they were gone-”

“We’re not going to Halamshiraal get your knickers out of a twist!” Sera snorted. “I’ll bring her back in one piece, but a kid can’t sit around all day!”

“I…”

Olivia was gripping excitedly at the edge of her seat, and if her toes could reach the floor they would’ve been tapping too. Anyone could see she desperately wanted to spend time with the ‘fun rogue’. Cullen could be fun too – it just didn’t include putting buckets of water over their ambassador’s door. Less dangerous fun.

“Nothing reckless,” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I see so much as a scratch on Olivia, I’ll have your quarters repurposed to a storage closet.”

“If I get a hair on the squirt’s head out of place, I’ll banish myself, does that make you feel better? I won’t get in the way of your crush on the boss.”

“I do not-”

Sera and Olivia were already gone before he could even finish, giggling as the elf lifted the girl onto her shoulders and scrambled out. It was almost fascinating how quickly he could come to regret a decision.

They were gone for a few hours, when night arrived and a chill soaked into the floor Cullen began to pace, anxious and ready to go searching top to bottom for Olivia.

He only made it to the grand hall when he found the two of them. Sera, snoring with her head fallen back in her ornate seat with Olivia, sleeping sound in Sera’s lap. A blanket was slipped over the two of them, and just a few feet away in another chair was Varric, watching the fireplace crackle.

“Don’t you worry Curly, I kept them distracted.” Varric laughed and took a sip of his wine. “You’d be surprised how much Buttercup loves a good story.”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief as he made his way to Olivia. She was clutching onto to Sera and her head was laid lazily on her stomach, a slow rise and fall lifting her up and down. She looked so comfortable; it was almost hard to wake her up.

“Was she a handful?” Cullen asked.

“Olivia or Buttercup?”

“Either one.” Cullen scoffed.

“Buttercup is a given, but Olivia is always a pleasure. It’s nice to have someone actually enjoy my rough drafts – they’re just what put Sera to sleep.” Varric laughed to himself. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“I’m surprised the Inquisitor didn’t take you with them,” Cullen remarked. “Dorian, Blackwall, and you are typically their regular party.”

Varric simpered. “As old as Blackwall looks, I’m older – and you’ve got to give the elderly a break.”

“You can’t be beyond your late thirties.”

Varric raised a glass amusedly. “Or maybe I just age that good. Either way, mentally, I’m in my sixties. I like to have the occasional night in!”

“Does that mean Olivia could call you ‘grandfather’?”

“Don’t you dare put that idea in her head Curly.”

Cullen turned his attention back to Olivia with a laugh. He gently scooped her up in his arms, and Sera only mildly objected in the form of halfhearted tugs at his gauntlets. The second Olivia felt the fur of his cloak she sank against it; even attempting to wrap herself up like a blanket.

“Thank you for watching over her, Varric – even if only for a short time.”

The dwarf shook his head. “No trouble. You just make sure that one gets some shut-eye.”

Cullen took Olivia to your quarters – It had a grand enough bed that you shared with your parent when they were here anyhow. The few times Cullen had entered early, Olivia would be snuggled up among the silk sheets like a burrowed rabbit. She’d never get out if you didn’t make her.

He pulled back the blankets and set her down gently. The second she recognized just where she was, Olivia grappled at the sheets and pull them up to her chin – even her cheeks were smothered against her pillow.

Cullen would’ve left to return to his own room when Olivia reached out for his hand and ruined that plan.

“Can you stay, Mr. Rutherford?”

She only used that name when she wanted something out of him. It worked every time.

Cullen paused briefly, relenting as he sat down at the foot of the bed. “Of course, Olivia.”

“Can I ask you something?” She mumbled, eyes only a tiny bit open and words slurring.

He smiled softly. “Of course.”

“Do you… do you like them?” She clearly peeked one eye open at this point. Olivia was far from subtle.

“Like who?”

“You know… my… parent…” Olivia sat up, rubbing at her face groggily but far too curious to sleep just yet.

Cullen’s heart jumped into his throat. He swallowed hard, and even then, his chest heaved like a drum. “Why ah – why would you ask that?”

“I see how you stare – and how they stare. And I…” Olivia brought her knees up to her chin. “I want you to be a part of our family.”

The rapid beating of Cullen’s heart stopped, his fidgeting fingers stopped, and his panicking brain stopped. All that remained was a warmth, gentle, and protective like a lantern in a dark night. It never felt so easy to say exactly what he meant.

“I think I’d like that too. But I’ll have to be a bit braver before I can tell them.”

Olivia saw his faint, nervous smile and leaned over so that she drooped over his shoulder. She did her best to drape a bit of the blanket over him but even at her best, she only managed to cover his knee. A valiant effort.

“I’ll cheer for you then,” Olivia yawned. “so, you can get brave. Would that help?”

Olivia truly was just like you. Maybe that was why he found himself adoring her just so much. You were always so encouraging and supportive – even at your worst, you found a way to brighten someone else’s day. You passed the kindness in your heart down to Olivia, and it showed.

Perhaps when you returned Cullen would finally tell you all the things that’d be brimming inside of him. How he cared for you like he’d never known before and wanted nothing more than to simply do the same for you. For the first time, he felt like he could.

“I think it already is.”

Cullen would’ve thought Olivia already fallen fast asleep were it not for the little grin spread across her face.

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rangercorpses · 3 years

Text

This is going to appeal to me and only me bc this is so fucking niche but, hear me out

Mechanisms/rangers apprentice crossover

Screenshot of my og idea:

And some more under the cut that was supposed to be a quick outline but turned into a bullet point fic:

There's these bandits that are just. Devastatingly destructive, and witnesses swear they're wielding some sort of magic sword that can shoot fire out the end???

Anyways Halt and Will and Gilan and Horace get recruited into catching them bc ofc they do <3

They find the bandits - it's not hard, they're not even bothering with being subtle about anything, so they just have to follow the trail of destruction.

They arrive and scope out the situation, and find..a group of four people, sitting in a(n empty, half aflame) bar just..laughing and.....playing music?

(in a bar that's burning to the ground. A bar. That's burning. To the ground. Horace can't quite get over that. Will is eyeing one of bandits, who's playing a mandolin. He looks suspiciously like he's assessing his chances of nicking it (it's a very nice mandolin after all).)

They can't reasonably go into a flaming building for four bandits, even bandits as dangerous as these four are, so they use the opportunity to scope it out

It's almost an hour later when the bandits finally leave the bar

(as if their presence had been the only thing holding it up, the bar collapsed in a wave of smoke and sparks behind them. One of them, dressed in grey and black with bright red hair blew a kiss back at the flaming wreckage)

Now that they're out of the bar, Gilan pursues them, staying carefully out of sight, the other three staying behind to wait for him to report back.

Several hours later, he returns, sheepishly in tow behind the four bandits. Halt had an arrow nocked and aimed at the redhead in moments, whom he'd deemed to be the leader. (Not that it seemed to have any effect on them, save amusement)

"So this is who's been following us," the one with the red hair said, looking each of them up and down judgmentally.

"They're Not Very Stylish," another said, pouting. It seemed to be..made of wood? Will tried not to think about it too hard, with little success. The wooden man, seeming to sense his confusion, somehow smiled wider.

Halt, still aimed at the redhead, very calmly said, "Let Gilan go."

"Oh please, he's not our prisoner, we're not barbaric," the third said, seemingly the only normal-looking one in the group.

The fourth nodded, the light glinting strangely off his skin, making it seem almost metallic. But metal skin is impossible, right? "It's wrong to hold someone against their will," he said pleasantly. "He's free to go back to you, if he wishes."

Both groups are silent for a moment, before Halt jerked his head, motioning for Gilan to come back over.

The moment he was over, the third beamed. "See, was that so hard? And really, you can lose the bow and arrows, those won't do much. Though you are welcome to try," he said with a wink.

Slowly, Halt lowers his bow, reasoning that now that Gilan had been returned, things were..not safe, but more stable. The bandits certainly weren't acting violent or destructive (at the moment, anyways).

It seemed almost like..they were humoring them

"You four are the bandits who have been looting and burning towns and villages, right?" Will asks. They're being so not murderous that he feels the need to be sure they've got the right people. In his gut, however, he knows they are.

The wooden man starts nodding immediately, its hat nearly falling off from the vigorous motion. The normal-ish man gives a sweeping bow. "The ones and only."

The metal(?) man shakes his head though. "I haven't committed any crimes though, I'm not on the right setting for that." The rangers and knight all unanimously decide to ignore that.

"In that case, you're all under arrest," Halt says, ready to fire of the bandits show any sign of fighting back.

However, they merely nod amicably. Again, the feeling of being humored lays heavily over the group as they quietly attach thumb cuffs and tie their wrists, searching for any weapons and tossing them aside.

Will handled the wooden man's mandolin with care, and it smiled at him for it. "That's Very Polite Of You," it says. "Much More Polite Than Jonny."

Will says nothing, merely continuing, and trying not to think of how the wood of it's fingers were warm.

Horace gives a shout of surprise when he discovers that the most normal looking if the bandits has an arm made out of metal. The man simply wiggles his eyebrows and detaches then reattaches one of his fingers, smirking mischievously

The metal man holds out his arms in front of him for Gilan, allowing him to put on the restraints without complaint, even going so far as to point out several hidden weapons, stating that "a lie of omission is still a lie." This is met with groans from the other bandits.

The redhead quirks an eyebrow as Halt approaches, to which Halt raises an eyebrow back. This goes on for a minute longer than Halt will admit to before he finally attaches the thumb cuffs and ties them up.

Once the bandits are all tied up, there's nothing left but to take them back to Castle Araluen.

The ride back is heavy with the tension of knowing, with complete and utter certainty, that the bandits could break out at any second with ease.

Instead, they are laughing and talking amongst themselves. As they talk, they refer to each other by name, and they learn that the redhead is named Ashes, the man with the metal hand is Marius, the metal man Brian, and the wooden man the Toy Soldier. They are rather disturbed to learn that there are at least three more like them- though where they are, none of the Araluens can say.

At one point, Halt whirls around at the sound of a violin. "Where did you get that violin?" he snaps, unknowingly echoing another's words, a millennia and several dimensions away. Marius startles, looks down at the violin in his hands, and for some reason, looks sad.

Will quietly sidles up next to Brian and asks why his skin is made of metal, and how it works. Brian laughs. "It's not just my skin," he says. "Everything but my heart is mechanical."

Will doesn't know whether to be horrified or curious. "Why?" he asks.

"I was shot into the sky in froze in space," Brian says easily, as if this is something he's commonly asked.

Will, for once, doesn't ask any more questions.

They do finally arrive at Castle Araluen, and when the bandits are sentenced to death, neither Halt, Will, Gilan, nor Horace are even a little surprised when they get right back up after being killed.

#ra #ranger's apprentice #halt o'carrick #will treaty #gilan davidson #horace altman #FUCK i was blanking on horaces last name and the only thing i could think of was pancake bc of knight of the pancake sjdkskkskfkdkfk #UM fo context since ik prolly not many ppl will know abt the mechs?#to keep it simple theyre a band of immortal space pirates who like to have violence!#theres nine of them but only four are in this!#im.. hyperfixated so hard on them AHSJDJ #anyways i figured these four would be up for humoring the rangers+horace <3 rather than just outright murdering them AHDJSJKS #they thrive on the confusion and chaos they spread <3 #if anyones curious and somehow knows both the mechs and ra. jonny and tim are over in hibernia. nastya is with the aurora in skandia.#ivy has been hitting up every major library in every country #and raph is gathering data across the globe for her unethical science <3 #there is NO way for this to fit into canon but i dont care #canon has no meaning in this place #ANYWAYS um sorry if anyones out of character this is meant to be silly so i didnt worry too much abt proper characterization #also i wrote this at like one in the morning and i cant focus enough to edit/revise it now that ive slept so. uh yeah #sorry if its kinda wonky

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Forty-Four) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of PTSD... I think that’s it???

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9228

Timeline: Three months after part forty-three.

“Holden, if it’s a boy,” I offered. “Holden Hotchner.”

Hotch and I had been brainstorming baby names for the past couple of weeks. I was due soon, and we were practically racing against the clock to figure everything out. Hotch had practice with Jack; he knew what he was doing when it came down to naming, putting the nursery together, buying all the toys, diapers, medicines, clothes, and so on. He was being a total rockstar with how hands-on he was with prepping the house and helping me around while still balancing work.

We had decided that we didn’t need the home office at the end of the hall shortly after I left work for maternity leave. We knew that we couldn’t keep the cradle in our room all the time, and the baby would eventually need their own room, so the office had to go. We moved Jack into that room so that the baby’s nursery could be closer to us. With Jack’s nightmares nearly gone entirely, he wasn’t coming to our room as often in the middle of the night, which meant that he could afford to be just another room further from us, whereas the nursery needed to be close by.

Jack was excited to decorate his new room. He worked with Hotch to paint it a forest green color, and they put soccer stuff up everywhere. Hotch painted a soccer ball over the light switch next to the door, Jack put up posters of his favorite players, and I put all of Jack’s trophies and ribbons on a shelf next to his desk under the window. Jack put his cleats and favorite soccer ball on display, Hotch bought him a new soccer themed bed comforter, and I prayed that Jack wouldn’t start kicking the ball against the walls when he got bored. That wasn’t likely, however, because Morgan, in all his genius, had the bright idea to paint a soccer goal onto the wall… He was practically daring Jack to break my wall. I tried warning them against it, but no one was listening to me. Morgan wanted to help out, and painting that damn soccer net was somehow “helping”. I was going to send him the bill to fix the wall soon.

As for the nursery, Hotch was insistent on painting it blue, because he was convinced that it was a boy, and there was no changing his mind. I had to remind him about a thousand times that there was a reason we decided to not know the baby’s gender ahead of time, and that meant no painting the walls blue or pink. We decided fairly early on that we wanted it to be a surprise. The doctors kept asking if we were sure, or if we wanted someone to know so that they could buy clothes for the baby or paint the room themselves or just tell our friends and family; but we were adamant about no one knowing. This was the first good thing to have happened in a very long time, and we wanted to share this happiness and excitement with the team. No matter how much Morgan would insist that it was killing him to not know, we knew that they were just as excited as us to learn if it was a boy or a girl only after I would give birth. But Hotch still had to be reminded that even though he thought they were a boy and I thought they were a girl, we couldn’t paint the damn nursery blue.

He ended up painting it a light grey that made the room look bigger than it actually was. He bolted these wood shelves to the walls and stacked diapers and clothes on them. All of the toys we bought and had been gifted over the past couple of months went in a wicker basket that he slid into a two-by-two dark grey cubby organizer. He hung up pictures all over the room of us, Jack, the team, and even Haley. Hotch wanted to make sure that, no matter what, no matter where we were in the world, however long we would be gone for, whatever we were doing, however old the baby was, they would know that they had a whole village of people out there who loved them more than anything and would do anything to protect them. Our family was much bigger than just the four of us. There was a team of six FBI agents out there who would die for our baby, and Hotch wanted to make sure that everyone knew it. Nothing bad was ever going to happen to us again. Ever. The pictures on the walls were a constant reminder of that.

Hotch’s hand slowly rubbed circles on my stomach as we laid down in bed, trying to fall asleep, to no avail. It was uncomfortable for me to sleep nowadays, and Hotch could hardly close his eyes because he didn’t want to let go of me or lose sight of me. So, we spent most of our nights just laying like that, cuddled up against one another as we talked about work, Jack’s school or soccer, or the baby. We had started by talking about how Morgan kept trying to send us baby names throughout the day via text, as if we hadn’t already been thinking of some ourselves. He was going to be the worst uncle, I swear. He was going to be so… overbearing.

“What about Emily, if it’s a girl?” I asked.

Hotch tensed and stopped moving his hand on my stomach. I knew that it was still a sensitive topic for all of us. Most of us hadn’t really come to terms with what happened— Morgan and Reid most of all. But it was something that I had been thinking about for a while. Since Emily died, there was this… hole or darkness in the team, in our family. We all missed her, and we were all too scared to let go of her. We didn’t want to admit that she was gone, that she was never coming back. Something that had crossed my mind one night while Hotch was away on a case was how much she did for me. We weren’t as close as I was with Morgan, of course, but she was the only other one of the team that I spent the majority of my time with. When I wasn’t with Morgan, I was with Emily. She had my back countless times, and my biggest regret was not being able to have hers in the end.

I wanted Emily to be remembered somehow. I wanted her memory to be a big part of our lives because Emily was that important. She deserved to be a happy memory, not a dark hole that was silently killing our team. We needed good news, we needed something bright and happy— not to replace her, but to honor her. She always looked after me when she didn’t have to, especially since I was cold towards her at first because I felt like she had stolen Elle away from me— even though that obviously wasn't the case. But most importantly was that she had Hotch's back. They were close. Really close. When Strauss wanted her to help take Hotch down, Emily tried to quit rather than betray him. After Foyet stabbed him, she stayed with me at the hospital to make sure that we were both okay, and she helped Hotch by listening to him after Haley was killed and he couldn’t talk to me. Emily was always there, and she was supposed to be there forever… but fate hated us, it seemed, and she was stolen away from us. Emily Prentiss deserved to live on through something good that came out of this mess.

“Why don’t you keep looking for some other girl names,” Hotch recommended before carefully sliding out of bed.

My brows furrowed while I watched him grab his robe and leave the bedroom. What the hell was that about? I thought he would like the idea. I thought he would want to honor Emily, too. Was I missing something? Maybe he wasn’t as over Emily’s death as I thought...

----

In the morning, Hotch drove me to work for the first time in two months. Since Emily died, I had worked another few cases in the office before I finally gave in to Hotch’s wish for me to stay at home. The stress and depression was getting to me, which was making the pregnancy hard for me, so I just couldn’t find the will or energy to keep profiling. In fact, most days it was was hard to get out of bed at all. But that was why we were headed to Quantico on a random Tuesday morning.

Hotch and done grief evaluations with everyone on the team thus far, except for me. Since I was clearly not okay, and Strauss still needed a report on me, we had to go into the office to do an official evaluation. I disliked the idea. I disliked that my husband was going to be sitting across from me, taking notes on my responses to his questions about how I was doing since Emily died. And if I wasn’t honest, he would know. That was the worst part. He always fucking knew when I was lying, so I had to tell the truth, which was that I was miserable.

That was how I ended up sitting on the couch in his office, though, watching and waiting while he scribbled things down in my file. And then he said, “Why did you immediately think about naming our daughter after her?”

“What?” I questioned, baffled.

“The two of you weren’t necessarily the closest—”

“Maybe Strauss should do my evaluation instead.” I reached for my purse so that I could head down to her office.

“I’m sorry—” Hotch insisted, holding his hand out to stop me. I froze. “I’m sorry. Just… Sit down and give me another chance.”

I stared at him, trying to get a read on the situation. If I were to sit back down, was he just going to ask that question again? It wasn’t that I minded the question itself, but the fact that I hated that it was the first thing he had the audacity to say to me during our evaluation—after dodging talking to me about it last night, I might add. I was understandably upset that he chose now, of all times, to discuss it again.

I sat back down cautiously. “Okay.” When I got comfortable on the cushions again, I cleared my throat so that I could say, “Emily and I weren’t as close as we should have been. I’ll be the first to admit that. But the two of us still came to work every day, and we put our brains together to help solve the cases, and I knew that I could trust her to have my back every time we were out in the field together.” I glanced down at my fidgeting fingers. “She was as much my family as anyone else. She was smart, loyal, and even funny at times. She loved us, and she died protecting us. I want our baby to know that she’s named after one of the bravest women I’ve ever known. Is that a crime?”

“We don’t even know if it’s a girl.”

“But I want it to be now… Because… Because I want there to be an innocent, happy reminder of Emily to bring joy to people whenever they get sad about missing her.”

“So, you’re doing it for other people.”

“No!” I insisted quickly. “I just feel like I owe it to her. And… because I blame myself,” I admitted quietly.

“Why is that?”

“Because I should have been there, Aaron. I should have gone in and helped her. I should have found Doyle. I should have saved her—I should have loved her more…”

“You didn’t know. None of us did.”

I wiped away a sniffle with the back of my hand. “It’s my fault for not doing more.”

“You’re pregnant, Y/N. You wouldn’t’ve been able to do anything.”

“But I could have tried!” I exclaimed angrily. He wasn’t hearing me. He didn’t understand what it felt like to know that I was sitting at home while Emily was running away, I was stuck on a plane when she was being tortured by Doyle, and…. and all I could do was watch as Morgan and Hotch held her as she died. He didn’t understand that feeling of helplessness. “Why don’t you ever cry about it?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Why don’t you cry? We’ve all cried since losing her… But not you. I don’t understand. You loved her, Aaron. I know you still do. We all do. So, how can you go every day without breaking down? How can you hold me every night as I sob and not shed a tear? What’s going on with you?”

He looked down at his notes as he swallowed hard, thinking about what he wanted to say; but nothing came. He only shrugged. I shook my head and scoffed. Out of everyone in the world, I should have been the one person that he could open up to, yet he was closing himself off to me. Again. That was what he did every time something in our lives went downhill. Sending Haley and Jack into WITSEC was a prime example of that. Foyet had taken everything from us, and instead of turning to me for comfort, Aaron shut down and ignored me, which created a crack in our relationship. But we had moved on from that, I thought. With wedding rings on our fingers and a baby on the way, he should have known that I wasn’t going to be scared off by him being honest with me. Was he angry? Was he sad? Impartial? Relieved? I didn’t fucking know! It was so aggravating that I couldn’t get a read on my own husband so that I could help him through all of this.

“This isn’t my evaluation, Y/N,” he answered quietly.

I shook my head. “And who is it that will be evaluating you, Aaron? Anyone?”

He didn’t respond to my question. Instead, he dodged with, “I think that’s everything I need to know. You should head home and get some rest.”

Honestly, I wasn’t looking to pick a fight with him about this any longer because I knew it was futile; but I didn’t want to be there any longer, either. So, I gave in. I agreed to ending my evaluation there, as short as it was, and heading home for the rest of the day. I picked up my purse again, lifted the strap over my shoulder, then quietly headed out of his office, closing the door behind me slow enough for me to gauge the atmosphere of the bullpen. It was so quiet without Emily. She wasn’t much of a talker, but Morgan was, and he brought her out of his shell. Normally, he would say something snarky, catching mine or Emily’s attention, giving us cause to poke back at him—or if he was picking on Reid, we would help. Emily would always laugh when that happened. Her smile used to light up the whole room, and that was just another thing about her that I always took for granted. That was one more tiny detail about her that I would have to miss for the rest of my life.

“Trouble’s coming through,” Morgan warned playfully, holding his hand out to help me walk down the ramp. I chuckled at him and accepted his polite gesture. “How are you feelin’, bubble?”

I squinted at him. “Ha. Ha.”

He chuckled back at me. “Seriously, how’s my future niece or nephew?”

“She’s doing fine,” I answered with a smile, running my hands over my stomach. Morgan froze, giving me cause for pause. “What?” Did I have something on my face? Was Hotch glowering at us from his office? “Morgan?”

“You said ‘she’—”

“–No, I didn’t—”

“—How do you know?” he questioned eagerly, practically jumping on his toes because he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Did you ask to know even though you and Hotch agreed not to? I promise, my lips are sealed!”

I hit his shoulder to get him to calm down. “Shush!”

“Tell me!”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a feeling. What do you want from me?”

He smiled and hugged me quickly, but still carefully. “A girl!” he cheered in my ear. “I knew it. Yes, yes, yes!” He pulled away from me long enough to a little dance in a circle.

“Smooth. Not noticeable at all.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine, but this is the greatest news I’ve had in a very long time. Let me have this.”

He was right. Since losing Emily, good news was hard to come by, and it just seemed like nothing could lighten up the office anymore. I couldn’t fault Morgan for being over the moon excited about a feeling I had. I didn’t even know if it was a girl for sure, but there was something since Emily’s death—some voice in the back of my mind that was telling me that she did what she did so that we could raise a perfect baby girl in this world. People always theorize that people leave our world in order to make room for someone new. Maybe Emily was just making room for our baby. I wished that it could have been anyone else besides her that made that sacrifice, but we didn’t get to make decisions about life or death at the end of the day, and that was the sad truth about our job.

----

Jessica had just gotten back to the house after dropping Jack off at school. She had come back to check on me one last time before heading out for work, which she didn’t need to do because I was going to be alright. I knew I was big at nearly nine months pregnant, but everyone was treating me like I was immobile. In a few days’ time, Hotch and I were going to head to the hospital to have the baby, as scheduled, and until then, I was ordered by the doctors and Hotch to stay in bed. So, Jessica checking on me felt… unnecessary.

In hindsight, though, it was a miracle she got back in time. Just as I was insisting that I would be alright on my own for a few hours until Hotch could come visit during lunch, my water broke. We hadn’t anticipated this happening. I mean, we thought about it, but the doctors thought that our “appointment” to have the baby would beat any natural occurrence. So, Jessica and I were obviously caught off guard when it happened. Hotch and I didn’t have a bag packed yet, and we didn’t have a plan for this. Jessica and I just had to wing it.

While I called Hotch, Jessica ran around to just grab an old go-bag of mine and stuff some baby stuff in it for the hospital. Hotch sounded breathless as he told me that he was on his way and started running through the office to get to his car. I could hear Morgan on the other end of the call ask him if everything was alright, and all Hotch could say was: “It’s happening!” Then, suddenly, the whole team sounded like they were running around to hurry to the hospital, too. If I weren’t freaking out, I would’ve laughed at them.

When we got to the hospital, the doctors and nurses raced around to help me. It took about twenty minutes after getting into a room for Hotch to show up. He ran into the room and stood right by my side the entire time. He held my hand, brushed my hair with his fingers, and kissed my forehead, cheeks, and lips as much as he could to distract me. The comforting part was hearing him tell me that he loved me over and over again. Him just being there on time was everything I hoped for. We were lucky that he was in town, and that he was close enough to get there to be by my side for every second of it. I loved him, and I knew that I couldn’t do it without him.

And then we heard that first cry. Hotch laughed happily before kissing my forehead and squeezing my hand. I sighed with relief when it was over. A smile finally appeared on my face once our baby was in my arms, pressed against my chest. It was a girl. Some part of me always knew that it would be, but finally holding her in my arms, seeing her face, even as she cried… It was the greatest feeling in the world. And Hotch was so happy, too. He was still laughing quietly while kissing me again and again. He was beside himself. I was, too. Cradling her in my arms, leaning into Hotch’s touch, crying as I finally got to relax somewhat… I was happy. She was finally there. She was finally with us.

“Hi, Emily,” I whispered to her. I hadn’t even realized what I said until I felt how tense Hotch was against my side. I looked up at him to see that he was staring at our daughter, his smile somewhat disappearing. “I’m sorry—”

“No,” he said to me. “Don’t be.” He reached down and wiggled his finger playfully in her face as she started to calm down. “Emily.”

It felt so right to name her Emily. After we first talked about it and Hotch told me no, I dropped the idea entirely, but once it slipped, we just knew that it was the only thing that felt perfect. It was meant to be. I loved Emily Prentiss the same way I loved Derek Morgan. They were both my partners in the field— and… she was… she was one of the greatest friends I ever had. I had to do something for her. I had to have a part of her with me now that she was gone. Our beautiful, perfect, sweet daughter deserved her name. She deserved to carry on the legacy of one of the greatest women I ever knew. Our daughter… Our little Emily… I loved her infinitely.

“She’s perfect,” Hotch whispered. “You’re both perfect.”

When Hotch took her in his arms so that the nurses could check on me, she slowly stopped crying. I looked up shortly to see that he was shuffling back and forth on his feet while bouncing her in his arms lightly. She was falling asleep— as if she hadn’t had all the time in the world to rest. I smiled. I couldn’t stop thinking to myself that she was perfect. She was perfect. Perfect. Absolutely, without a doubt, no questions asked… perfect. And she was ours. We did that. We loved each other endlessly, and from that, we got her. How could anyone ever possibly argue that she was anything less than perfect?

Later, once they checked on her to make sure she was healthy, and I had some time to rest and recuperate, I asked Hotch if I could see her again. She was in a small cradle on wheels next to him, and he couldn’t seem to leave her alone, even as she tried to sleep, and he was trying to keep an eye on me. The nurses told us that she was a perfectly healthy baby. Perfect. Because she was okay, they could leave her in the room with us for a little longer. But I wanted to hold her. I wanted her in my arms, and I never wanted to let go. So, Hotch cooed her back to sleep as she fussed when he picked her up and handed her to me. And then I asked if Jessica had picked up Jack from school yet.

Another slow smile appeared on Hotch’s face. “I’ll go get him.” He ran to the door and into the hallway, quickly retreating before he could spend another second away from me and the baby. “I love you so much.” He was right back by my side as the door opened again.

I peeked around Hotch’s shoulder to see Jessica ushering Jack into the room. Hotch pressed a finger to his lips to tell them to be quiet since she was sleeping, so Jack and Jessica cautiously approached. Hotch picked up Jack and put him on his hip. He was so big now— it was crazy to think that once upon a time, he was the same size as our baby Emily. I wished I could’ve been there to see baby Jack. He was already my precious little man, but he was probably the cutest baby— well, second cutest now. No one could ever beat my perfect Emily.

Jack stretched his arm out to poke her cheek, but Hotch pulled him away. He warned Jack that he needed to be careful. Jack dropped his hand, then craned his neck to get a better look at her. When she hiccupped in my arms, Jack jumped slightly. Hotch and I chuckled.

“What’s her name?” he asked me.

I looked at Hotch first, looking for a reassurance that he was really fine with this. If he had originally just got caught up in the moment and since decided that he didn’t want to name her Emily, then I wouldn’t’ve blamed him. But he nodded and smiled… So, I told Jack the truth.

“Like Aunt Emily?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Hotch answered, wiping some mud off his chin from recess. “Just like Aunt Emily.”

“She’s cute.”

I laughed. “She is, isn’t she.”

“When do I get to play with her?”

“Not for a bit, little man.” I reached up to pinch his nose. “She has to rest.”

“And so does Y/N,” Hotch added, adjusting Jack on his hip with a groan. “Do you wanna do your homework here or at home?”

“Can we get McDonalds for dinner if I do it here?” Jack asked.

“No—”

“Aaron,” I squinted at him. I was still the cool parent— the good cop— so, of course, I was going to let Jack get something like McDonalds if he really wanted it. I was in a great mood. I would’ve told him he could get a freakin’ ice cream cone taller than him if he even asked. “You do all of your homework, and you can get McDonalds.”

“Can I go with Uncle Rossi?”

I laughed internally. I would have loved to see the look on Rossi’s face when Jack would inevitably go up to him and ask: “Can you take me to McDonalds?” I was pretty sure Rossi would have a full-on heart attack. Rossi, the self-proclaimed culinary master, probably never even glanced at a McDonalds. That was why telling Jack “yes, you can go with Uncle Rossi” was so funny to me. Also, the look on Hotch’s face was priceless. It was like he wanted to argue with me, but how could he when I literally just gave him the greatest gift of his life? He’d have a lot of thanking to do over the next eighteen years.

And then there was a knock at the door. We all turned to see who it was. JJ peeked her head in while keeping the door as closed as she possibly could. “Sorry, I don’t think I can hold Morgan back any longer. He’s getting antsy.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine, JJ. You can send them all in.”

“Y/N, are you up for that?” Hotch asked worriedly.

I nodded and shushed Emily as she started fussing in my arms again. With all of the excitement going on, she was waking up. Now that the team was trying to get into the room, probably all of them excited to get their chance to hold her, there was no way she’d keep her eyes closed much longer. My only hope was that she wouldn’t start crying or get hungry again.

JJ opened the door wide, and suddenly everyone was pouring in. Morgan was the first one inside. He was practically running towards my hospital bed, a grin growing on his face the closer he got. And then he came to a sudden halt before he could crash into me.

“Lemme see, lemme see,” he said eagerly, holding his arms out already.

“Calm down, Mr. Impatient,” I said. When he didn’t move, I passed Emily to him. “Careful—” I warned as she left my arms.

I knew that she was safe with him, but I was already worried. I spent the last nine months with her; even a few seconds without her felt unbearable. I wanted her with me all the time. I felt like I was the only one in the world who could truly protect her, though I knew that wasn’t true. There was a full room of people standing around me that would protect her with their lives. We all felt the same way when Henry was born. I knew that if anything happened to that baby boy, I’d risk my own life to help him— because that was what family did for each other. Seeing the whole team there, smiling at me, Hotch, and baby Emily… I knew that she would always be safe.

“Well, hello, there, precious,” Morgan said to her. She was awake now, and I could see how he was taking in every detail of her. “Hotch, she has your eyes.”

I snickered and reached up to brush Hotch’s hair back. He looked like a mess. I mean, we both did, understandably; but he hardly ever looked disheveled in front of other people. I bet if he knew that his hair was sticking out in all the wrong places, he would’ve been furious. But Morgan was right. She had his eyes. His perfect, dark, chocolaty brown eyes. They were so big, so full of life and curiosity whenever she was awake long enough for me to stare into them. She had Emily’s name, Hotch’s eyes, and she came from me. She was perfect. I could say it all day, every day. She. Was. Perfect.

“I wanna see her,” Garcia told him, approaching his side. She gasped, “Oh, heavens me… Look how cute she is!”

“Hey,” he hissed at her, “she’s trying to sleep.”

“But look at her—”

“Would the two of you stop fighting,” Rossi interrupted, stepping between them. “It’s my turn.” He was practically prying her out of Morgan’s arms just for his chance to hold her. “Morgan’s right, Aaron, she has your eyes… And she has your nose, Y/N.”

Great. I got the nose. Fingers crossed she’d at least end up with my hair. That was a nicer bragging piece than nose.

“What’s her name?” JJ asked, glancing over Rossi’s shoulder to get a look at her.

Hotch and I exchanged a stare. Telling Jack and Jessica was one thing, but telling the team was entirely different. For some reason, the prospect scared me. I was excited to tell them, don’t get me wrong; but I was somewhat terrified that they wouldn’t understand or accept. But as Emily Prentiss once told me: Screw them. If they didn’t like it, screw them. This was my family, my daughter, and the team would get over it if they didn’t like it. I liked it— I loved it; and I loved my daughter. I wasn’t going to change my mind.

“Emily Scarlet Hotchner.”

The whole atmosphere of the room changed. They were all already smiling before I told them, but once it dawned on them that we had named our daughter Emily, their smiles practically doubled. The room brightened, and it was like Emily—the real Emily Prentiss—was out there, watching us, and she was smiling, too. It was moments like these when I remembered Elle’s stories about loved ones turning into stars. I knew that Emily was out there. I knew that she was proud of us, and she was excited that we named our daughter after her. I missed her dearly… I missed her more than anyone could possibly know… But seeing how the room lightened up as our little ray of sunshine started giggling in Rossi’s arms, I knew that everything was going to be okay.

“May I?” I heard Reid ask shyly from the back of the group. Everyone split apart and turned to face him. Rossi nodded. “Thanks.” Reid smiled and carefully took Emily in his arms. And then I heard him let out a quiet sob. He was still smiling, but a tear was slowly sliding down his cheek. “Emily…”

Everyone knew how close Prentiss and Reid were. Morgan and I were close because he was the first person to get to know me when I joined the team, and from there we became partners in the field, and we practically spent every second of every day working and teasing each other. Rossi and Hotch were close because they were old friends who understood the pressures of the job and all of the politics that came with it. They were the best of friends because they were perhaps the only people who could understand the kind of stress they were both under. And they were also the two profilers with the most experience on the team. In the field, that made them valuable. Out of the field, it made them the best of friends. With Reid, he lost practically everyone that meant something to him. First, he was close with Elle, but… She left, and no one was really sure why. So, Reid leaned on Gideon. They were as tight as could be because of their father/son dynamic. Gideon challenged Reid’s intellect, and he was the only one who could actually beat Reid at chess. But then Gideon left, too. Reid only had JJ and Prentiss left. JJ was the one constant in his life, but then she got busy with her family. Prentiss was the only other person Reid had to turn to. She was the only one who hadn’t paired up with someone on the team—and that had a lot to do with the fact that she closed herself off from all of us in order to protect herself. But somehow, she opened up to him. She recognized that he needed someone in his life who would always be there. He needed something more than the big brother attitude Morgan gave him. He needed more than the push back that I supplied. He needed more than the smile that had been slowly fading from Hotch’s face since Haley’s death. Prentiss was there. She could give him that— she did give him that. Then, like everyone else he ever relied on in his life, she was gone.

We all missed Prentiss. We all wished that she could still be with us; that she could be standing next to Reid and Morgan as she smiled and begged to hold my daughter. Whenever I dreamed of this, I imagined Prentiss being there. Her absence was noticeable, and it was painful, but knowing that there was a new Emily there to bring us sunshine even in the darkest of times… I think it broke Reid in a good way.

He and I were never close. We didn’t hate each other, of course, but we didn’t click like I did with Morgan or he did with the rest of the team. It just came down to the fact that we spent most of our time doing wildly different things. He would stay in the offices to build the profiles during cases, meanwhile I’d be out in the field with Morgan trying to connect all of the dots. There just wasn’t much time for me to sit down with Spencer Reid and get to know him. That was no one’s fault. We both recognized that we loved each other, and that we were still family, but we were like those two estranged cousins who didn’t know what to say at family reunions. But the one thing that we did connect through was our heartbreak over Prentiss.

It was a silent thing between us. I would catch him crying in the bathroom on the jet or staring at the wall while whispering her name under his breath or staring at her desk in the bullpen when he was supposed to be doing work. Yet, I never said anything. He caught me doing all the same things, too, when I was still working. Yet, he never said anything either. We were both suffering, and we were doing it alone. We understood that about each other.

But now that he was there, holding baby Emily in his arms, whispering her name over and over again with a hint of hope and love in his voice, I knew that things were going to be okay. I knew that he’d slowly stop crying in the bathroom on the jet because now he’d have a ray of sunshine in his life to remind him of the good that was still in the world. I knew that because he was crying while standing there and holding her in his arms, and yet all he could do was keep smiling and laughing. Hope. Sunshine. Perfection. That was what she was. That was who she was always going to be.

“We’ll, um, let you rest,” Rossi said to me quietly. He patted Spencer’s shoulder before leading the rest of the team out.

“Wait, Morgan—” I stopped him. I looked at Jessica, “Do you mind getting Jack started on his homework?”

She caught the hint quickly. “Sure.” After Hotch let Jack down, Jessica took his hand and started walking out with him.

Reid looked up from Emily to glance at me. “I’ll go, too.” He stepped forward and leaned down slightly to give her back to me. “Could I…” He cleared his throat as he stood tall. “Could I come back later?”

I smiled at him. “Of course.”

He tucked his hair back. “Thanks.”

When Reid left the room, he closed the door behind him. Finally, it was just me, Hotch, Morgan, and Emily.

“We wanted to ask you something kind of important,” I said to Morgan as Hotch leaned down and kissed my temple, still petting my hair soothingly. “You should probably sit down first.”

He did so. “The answer is: no, I will not babysit on Fridays or Saturdays,” Morgan playfully responded before I could even ask him what it really was that Hotch and I had been considering.

I chuckled and hit his arm gently, careful not to move too fast to wake up Emily. Morgan threw his hands up in surrender. My eyes shifted from Morgan to Hotch quickly, a silent question to say: “Are you sure about this?” Hotch nodded and kissed me again. I turned back to Morgan, adjusting Emily in my arms as she started to hiccup again.

“We’ve been talking about it for a bit now, and we were just wondering if you would like to be her godfather.”

Morgan’s eyes shot wide. He looked between me and Hotch for more answers, or maybe to see if this was all a joke or prank and he was just missing the punchline. There wasn’t any joke, though. We wanted Morgan to be the godfather of our daughter. He was my closest friend, and he always took care of us. I knew that if anything were to happen to me or Hotch, I could trust that Morgan would always be there and he would protect our family with his life. That was how good of a man Derek Morgan was. He saw the value in other people’s happiness and safety, and he made sure that everyone around him was wearing the brightest smile imaginable because that was how he knew he was making a difference. I wanted our child to grow up with Uncle Morgan around. I wanted him to bring a smile to Emily’s face whenever she would start running around the house and he’d go to chase her. I wanted him to bring a smile to her face when he would show up to school events when she got older. I wanted her to know that he was a huge part of my life, and that I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Derek Morgan was the kindest, bravest, and, frankly, sassiest soul I knew. There was no one better for this job than him.

“You don’t have to answer now, if you want to think about—” Hotch began but was cut off by Morgan.

“Of course, I’ll be her godfather.”

I smiled at him. “Really?”

“Yes!” He was a little too loud, making Emily squirm in my arms before I started bouncing her back to sleep. “Sorry,” he whispered, chuckling quietly. He leaned forward in his seat, pressing his chest against the side of the bed, reaching out so that he could grab onto one of Emily’s tiny hands with his index finger and thumb. “I’m going to spoil her.”

I laughed at him. Him and everyone else, it seemed, including me and Hotch.

----

When the doctors released me from the hospital, Morgan was there to help get us settled back in the house, though we really didn’t need him to be there. While Hotch was worried about me, Morgan was worried about Emily. It was the funniest thing. In the car, Morgan was holding Emily in the backseat, still cooing and baby-talking with her as she giggled and wiggled in his arms. Hotch had one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding mine on the arm rest between us, his thumb rubbing slow circles over my knuckles. Then, when we got home, I took Emily while Morgan and Hotch grabbed the carrier, diapers, food, and all the other bags we had brought with us to the hospital and carried them inside. It was a relief to be home finally. I liked sitting on my own couch, even though Hotch was trying to pull me upstairs to the bed since I was on “bed rest”, according to the doctors. But I was fine where I was. If I went upstairs, I knew that I would inevitably fall asleep, but I didn’t want to yet. I just wanted to hold my daughter in my arms.

Finally, though, about two hours later, after Hotch went to pick up Jack from Jessica’s house, and Morgan left to go take care of Clooney, I headed upstairs. Hotch had put the nursery together, of course, but it seemed that he had put a cradle in our bedroom just in case. Honestly, I was grateful. I wasn’t ready to part from her just yet. And… to be fair, I was sure that she wasn’t ready to part from me yet either, so having a cradle in our room made it easy whenever she would start to cry or scream. It made life easy. Before laying down, I set Emily in the cradle, then just simply… plopped down.

Hotch chuckled at me as he laid down next to me. “You’re gonna get sick of this bed eventually.”

“You’re insane if you think that I’m actually staying here for the next few weeks,” I told him while laying on my side, my back to him.

“And you’re insane if you think I’m not going to make you.”

“Try me.”

“I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“Mhm, sure. Your empty threats mean nothing to me, love of my life.”

Hotch laughed and kissed my cheek. “Mmm, and you, love of my life, are going to stay here and rest until you are all better because you did your job of bringing our perfect daughter into the world, and now it’s my turn to do my job. Got it?”

“I’ll fight you on it when I wake up…” I answered tiredly. He kissed my cheek again before relaxing behind me, wrapping his arms around me so that he could make sure that I was safe and peaceful with him.

I fell asleep almost immediately. Without anyone coming and going, trying to visit me and Emily, I could finally just relax and focus on healing. Hotch was holding me, Emily was asleep, Jack was in his room playing games, and I was absolutely content. Nothing could bother me. I hadn’t even noticed when Hotch slid out of bed because Emily was fussing. I was in the middle of dreaming about Prentiss finding out that we named our daughter after her when it happened, I think. But I only woke up an hour later, and it was natural. No jumping up to calm Emily down, no waking up suddenly when there was a knock at the door from a visitor, and no worries about work and the team.

When I happened to notice that Hotch was gone, that was when I sat up in order to get a good look at the room. He had closed the drapes to make sure it was dark for me, and the door was locked to make sure that Jack couldn’t disturb me, and Emily was gone from her crib. I cocked a brow. Had he taken her to her nursery? Did she get hungry, so he made his way downstairs with her to heat up some breastmilk? I didn’t understand.

I rolled out of bed, then opened the door so that I could go check the nursery and Jack’s room first. Nothing. Both were empty. Confusion struck me, so I turned to make my way downstairs, and what I found made my heart swell. I could see the back of Hotch’s head as he was sitting on the couch, looking down at something. When I moved closer, I saw Emily in his arms, sucking on a bottle. I smiled.

“You are always so hungry,” he said quietly to her. “I can tell that you’re already going to be a handful for me and your mom.” She reached up for his face, to which he leaned down and kissed her itty-bitty fingers. “Especially if Uncle Morgan’s always around…” he chuckled. “He’s a troublemaker, and so is Mom, so… you’ll grow up to be a lil’ trickster, too, I’m sure.”

I shuffled closer. “You okay in here?” I asked, leaning in to kiss the top of his head.

He craned his neck after I moved away to get a good look at me. “Yeah. She started crying, which I figured was because she was just hungry. I didn’t want her to wake you up, so I brought her down here, and we’ve just been hanging out.” He looked at her again. She reached up to touch him again as he pulled the bottle away because she needed to breathe. “Jack’s outside playing soccer.”

I nodded as I sat down beside him. “How long has he been out there?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Are you worried?”

“No. I think he’s just bored.”

I ran my hand through his hair. “We can’t let him feel neglected. We have to really keep an eye on him.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to feed her while you go play with him?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I want you to just have a break for a little longer.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “This is perfect.”

“I know.”

And that was how the next few days went. Every time Emily started crying, I made a move to help her, but Hotch insisted that I just stay in bed and rest. Arguing with him was futile. At one point, I tried getting smart by offering to take turns looking after her—and Hotch gave in at first. I managed to get to her once in order to coo her back to sleep, but after that, Hotch just kept beating me to it.

Not to mention, Hotch had decided after bringing me and the baby home that he was going to take time off of work in order to look after us. He was so overdramatic. I didn’t need a babysitter. Yeah, I was tired, but I could look after my daughter during the day while he was supposed to be gone at work. But he was adamant.

Finally, when I started feeling suffocated in our bedroom—and in the house, in general—I asked Hotch if we could visit the team at the office. He tried lying that they were gone on a case, but Morgan via text disproved that. Sucker. He really had no choice but to take me in. Honestly. If he didn’t drive me there, I was going to do it myself one way or another; and he knew it. So, we swaddled the baby in a blanket, put a beanie on her head, made sure we had a full bag of toys, pacifiers, diapers, and food. She fell asleep in the carrier before we even made it to the car. Babies. She was lucky I loved her, otherwise I would’ve been furious about the fact that she could cry and scream, ruining mine and Hotch’s whole day, then just fall back asleep like nothing happened.

When we arrived at Quantico, I unbuckled my seat and beat Hotch to the carrier, reaching to pick Emily up out of it instead of schlepping the whole thing with us through security. On our way in, we ran into Anderson. I stopped and smiled at him. He stopped, too, and he turned with a bright face that welcomed the newest member of the BAU family. As she started fussing in my arms, Anderson approached to come say hi.

“Look at her,” he said, wiggling his finger in her face playfully. “What’s her name?”

“Emily,” I answered.

He looked up at me with the same wide, yet still shocked smile that everyone had when I told them that news. He smiled back down at her. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re feeling alright and everything?”

“As well as I can be,” I responded through an exhausted chuckle. “The plan is to get back to work as soon as possible, though.”

He stood up tall and switched the files in his left hand to his right hand. “That’s good. We miss seeing you around the office.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Anderson.” I started walking towards the front door that Hotch was holding open.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he called to me while backpedaling into the parking lot. “I’ll see you around.” He waved to us before turning to head to his car.

Hotch led me through the lobby and security, stopping long enough for the guards we knew to say hi to me and the baby while congratulating us. It was so… weird to have people coming up and congratulating us for something that was just a little piece of each of us. I mean, no one patted us on the back for the first part, which was the sex. In fact, most people seemed to forget that was how this happened in the first place. To each their own, I supposed, though.

In the elevator, Hotch rested his hand on the small of my back, tucking me against his side so that he could kiss my temple. He was never, ever this handsy at work. At least, not in this way. There were moments of weakness with the two of us, like the jet ride that I would never forget on the way to St. Louis three years ago; as well as when he held my hand under the roundtable just a few months ago as we sat around worrying about Prentiss. I pushed off the thought.

As the doors to the elevator opened, Hotch and I stepped out onto the sixth floor, immediately being greeted by Rossi, Reid, and JJ who had been waiting around for us. Hotch must have let Dave know that we were on our way. Within an instant, Reid stepped forward and asked if he could hold her, just as he had always raced to volunteer for. Spencer was twenty-seven already, and it seemed sometimes like life was passing by him even though he didn’t want it to, even though he would have been the best partner for someone and an even better father. There was something about watching him with Emily that reminded me just how much I wanted to see him succeed in life. Out of everyone on the team, Reid was the one person besides Morgan who was constantly asking to hold Emily or see pictures of her from Hotch because he just couldn’t get enough of her. I knew in that moment that he was going to be the best father one day.

Suddenly, the glass doors of the BAU opened, revealing Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia who had just become aware of mine and Emily’s presence in the lobby that they had not been made aware of sooner. I could see the hurt on Morgan’s face from across the room. Despite that, however, I smirked at him and took Emily back from Reid carefully because I knew what was coming.

“Everyone, move!” Morgan exclaimed, pushing through the crowd. “I want to see my goddaughter.”

I chuckled and already started holding her out so that Morgan could take her when he was finally standing in front of me. His tunnel vision was focused solely on her as he smiled and cradled her in his arms. He cooed and used his baby-talk voice to tease her. While he wiggled his finger in her face to see her struggle to grab it with her tiny hands, Garcia leaned over his shoulder to watch.

“How are you feeling?” JJ asked me.

“Tired,” I admitted with an exhausted laugh. She nodded knowingly. “Hotch has been good, though,” I complimented, reaching out to run my hands through his hair. He blushed at me while wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “He’s probably more tired than I am.”

He nodded. “Probably. But it’s worth it.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“You two are disgustingly adorable,” Garcia teased giddily.

Hotch and I chuckled.

“So, I get her on weekends, right?” Morgan teased.

I furrowed my brows. “I don’t recall making any kind of custody agreement.”

“Sundays?” he bargained.

“Sunday afternoons.”

Morgan smiled down at baby Emily. “I’ll take what I can get.” He gave her a light eskimo kiss, their noses touching as they both giggled. “I love you.” Garcia scoffed and hit Morgan’s arm. Morgan looked at her with wide eyes. “Baby girl, you know you’re my forever love, but… look at her.”

Garcia wiggled her finger in Emily’s face, too. “You’re right.”

“I love you,” Hotch whispered directly into my ear, just barely loud enough for me to hear.

I turned my face to look at him with a smile that was so thankful for everything he had been doing for me and our baby over the past few days. “I love you, too.” I leaned up on my toes and kissed him.

----

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echo-three-one · 3 years

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Whatever It Takes

Alex relives the old days as he single-handedly embarks on a mission to help local German Militia regain their village from the hands of Augustus. But he seemed a little distracted. I wonder why.

Previous Chapter : Roach - A Walk to Remember

Chapter 7 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Just Like Old Times"

"Alex"

Task Force 141

1 km East of A Local Militia Settlement, Germany

"Guten Morgen. Hallo." Alex muttered as the plane slowly descended toward his drop off area. He was readying his accent for the negotiation. A few more walks and he'll be on potential enemy territory or ally territory, depending how well he seals the deal. For the whole duration of the flight, he cleared his head on Samantha, how she has no clue about him, and focused on his new task. He was confident he'd get this one right, as this was his playing field. The CIA days were almost nostalgic as he plopped his metal foot on the ground and signaled the chopper goodbye.

Leading small armies to help create forces to counter terrorism. That was his role in the Special Activities Division of the CIA. He was Kate Laswell's favorite when it comes to these kinds of activities and he's confident enough that he could convince them to fight.

The walk was long and quiet, no one was around, most of Alex's trails were just forest upon forest upon forest. He started heading to the sound of the water, and immediately spotted four men, armed and possibly his ticket inside the settlement. Taking a deep breath he emerged from the forest and greeted the gentlemen.

"Hello. Does anyone here know anyone named Blitz?" Alex asked in fluent german. The four of them pointed their guns directly at him and he quickly dropped his bag and raised his hands showing surrender.

"No no. I'm here to help." He kicked the bag as it started to pour out heavy grenadier weapons and bullets. One of them grabbed a radio and called the base.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Call me Alex." he replied with a grin. The next thing he knew is that he was being tied and escorted to the village. He didn't mind, it's always normal for them to be cautious, especially when facing an unknown person.

They trod the dense forestry until they got to a small settlement buzzing with activity.

Alex found himself seated on a small wooden table, his bag of weapons in front of him while Blitz slowly stepped out of the shadows. Blitz was the leader of the said settlement. He has a pale white skin and almost bald hair, his brethren surrounded him, guns pointed at Alex.

"What brings you to this little town, Alex?" he asked.

"Augustus." he replied confidently, all the other brothers whispered with each other.

"Shhh!" he silenced the group. "What about him?"

"I want answers from him and I need your help."

Alex took a sip of their popular soup recipe, they were all gathered by the campfire outside but Blitz wanted to talk to him in private.

"Augustus, has done a lot of bad things in our village. He has slaughtered our animals, stolen some of our men and worst of all, he took away our village." he frowned.

"My wife and kids, they are still there… He's using them as shields so your heavy weapons have no use to win them back." he pushed the bag back to him.

"I still have friends who can help. If you're willing to lend us your strength." Blitz looked concerned at Alex's eagerness.

"Tell me, why do you want this Augustus man so bad?" he asked, his eyes reflected the little burn they had on their campfire.

"He's our only hope to save a lot of people," he replied.

"Good. Join us later for our plans. If we are able to evacuate my people, we can have time to play with your toys." he smiled and Alex nodded. Tomorrow, the 141 is going to have Augustus for interrogation.

"Don't get your hopes too high, Alex. I don't want to live waiting for uncertainty. I'm done with that." Samantha's words hit him like a brick. Alex peeked at the scope and took a general sweep of the view looking for possible hostiles. It's been months since they last met and if she's true to her word and lives a normal life, she must have someone else looking for her right now, someone else she currently loves and he just had to suck it up when his suspicions were to be true.

He had his chance to tell her everything back at the infirmary but seeing her smile like that made him hesitate. Bringing back memories of him would just cause him pain, like what Maxine felt when she heard her name. And he didn't want her hurt, he just wanted her back.

He started to crumple her letter as he fished it from his pocket. It was inside the ziploc he had to protect from the rain, but now he just wanted to forget. He had been hurt many times in the past days that he couldn't handle facing her anymore. The feeling that he isn't reciprocated the way he expected was pushing him down.

'Don't you dare forget about me.' he sighed.

He wished it would be the same as last time. She rejected him at first but convinced herself to give him a chance the next day, but even with Maxine badgering her about him, it didn't seem to work.

"There they go Alex. The 6 am supply drop." Blitz whispered over comms. The plan was easy: Augustus supplies a lot of boxes to the base. They contain food and weapons stolen from farms or delivered to them from their higher leaders. This is the opening where most of their forces carry boxes, Anja, Blitz's wife, would lead all their members to a small tunnel they built in cases of invasion. Once everyone is out and accounted for, we will barge in and surround them, taking back what's rightfully theirs.

It's also important that most forces will focus on the northern ridge as that was the place where they came from before they invaded, and Blitz believes that a bigger base is situated there. Alex quickly relays this intel to the Task Force and reconnaissance has since begun.

"Ready, Alex?" Blitz asked one last time, holding their guns.

"Let's go." he said as they slowly creeped towards the entrance.

Alex's fingers gently felt the trigger through his gloves, he was alone with new found friends and he's not going to let Augustus slide past his hands. This has to end now. For Samantha.

For Samantha, who doesn't recognize him anymore, those days in Brazil were Alex's best days as a normal person. He got to experience living full of love for a while and he got into it. He liked the idea.

One huge explosion on an open area inside the settlement. They were smart, they're reclaiming the base so they didn't destroy anything in there. They just set out a warning.

"Alex! These weapons are top-notch!" One of the soldiers he's with roared, dashing across the field and started firing rounds.

Alex quickly covered himself by an empty barrel, peeking with his sights and firing at the tangos who were defending, slowly pressing themselves inward onto the base.

"Brothers! Let's take back what's rightfully ours!" Blitz yelled in their language, followed by a collective "Ja!" from the men.

Enemies scattered, those with weapons slung on their shoulders immediately retaliated while some of them retreated far back into the village. Alex took note of this and shot runners when he could.

"Brothers, they're going to reinforce themselves with weapons!" Blitz yelled, commanding the rest of the forces to flank, putting pressure on the back exit where most of them could retreat.

"Alex, come with me. Let's get Augustus." The leader commanded and Alex nodded, fighting their way inside the central tent. It was heavily guarded and the duo cautiously made their way in shooting hostiles one barrage of bullets at a time. By the time they made it in a huge chunk of metal caught their attention, it had some sort of satellite components and it hummed dangerously.

Alex and Blitz successfully entered the base but it was Augustus-less, more bad news were reported as their weapons cache was already empty.

"Scheisse!!" Blitz cursed loudly as the village fell quiet. They had won their fight back, but at what cost? Alex consoled the leader and turned to the machine which hummed louder.

"We gotta get out of here!" he yelled, escorting Blitz to the door. But it was too late, the machine whirred and released some sort of small scale EMP blast, forcing their comms to ring in static followed by a loud side effect of ear ringing and minor dizziness.

Alex felt himself drop on the floor, trying his hardest to remove his earpiece. The feeling was mind bending, the ringing didn't stop and it felt piercing straight to the brain, unlike standard military EMP grenades, these lasted longer and rang louder. Whatever this contraption was, he needed it to be destroyed.

With the last of his strength, Alex covered his already bleeding ears and dragged Blitz outside the tent, threw a grenade and hid to safety. It was a slow and steady action but as soon as the machine blasted into pieces, the ringing stopped and everyone started to recover.

The group slowly recovered and got up. Some of Blitz's men began puking as their minds were assaulted by the big machine. If this is one of Nero's big plans, then the team must prepare. Alex still pondered how these blasts weren't familiar on his previous mission and how they could potentially tie to the missing person cases that continued to spread across America.

Alex was afraid of what this thing is capable of and he must report this immediately to the rest of the squad, who he thinks is making their way inside Augustus' base just beyond the mountains behind them.

Next Chapter : Experiment 001

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NOTIFICATION SQUAD, MY BELOVED

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

((~2.4K of a much larger fic that I’ll keep posting snippets of!))

(Part 1)

———

“Father?”

“A-Yuan,” he replies as he cleans his brush and turns his head, the sharp, raw edges of his grief softening as he watches A-Yuan rub sleepily at his eyes in the soft candlelight warming the Jingshi. “What’s wrong?”

He sits still as A-Yuan crosses the room to clamber into his lap, sitting himself squarely in the hollow of his crossed legs facing him, and Wangji wraps his arms around him automatically, a concerned frown on his lips as A-Yuan collapses forward to nuzzle into his chest.

“A-Yuan?”

“I’m sad,” he replies softly and Wangji’s own grief is immediately shoved aside in favor of his son’s.

“Why? What happened?” he asks, his voice as neutral as it can be when he’s already burning inside with the desire to protect his and Wei Ying’s son from any and all harm.

“I don’t know,” A-Yuan replies and then he’s sniffling and Wangji realizes that he’s crying and he immediately curls around him, shielding him with his arms and shoulders, his unbound hair falling around them in a dark curtain. He ducks down to gently kiss A-Yuan’s bare forehead where his headband sits during the day and he strokes a hand slowly over his hair, brushing it back from his face as he lets the boy cry uninterrupted. His child will never have to mourn in lonely silence like he did, even if what he’s mourning may be trivial by an adult’s standards.

Wangji holds his crying son and lets a tear or two slip as well, his heart too fragile and raw today to stay stoic while his child hurts.

“What’s wrong A-Yuan?” he finally asks softly when the boy’s crying has subsided and he keeps stroking his hair back from his face for him even as he turns around to sit forward and face the table holding the guqin, his back and head resting on Wangji’s chest.

“I don’t know,” A-Yuan repeats, audibly pouting, and Wangji panics a bit. How can he fix it if A-Yuan can’t tell him what to fix? “I tried to sleep, but then I got sad and I wanted to cry.”

Wangji knows that the fever A-Yuan was fighting when he found him in the Burial Mounds has, perhaps in an act of divine mercy, kept him from remembering his life before he woke up properly in Cloud Recesses. But sometimes Wangji wonders if those memories are still there somewhere in his mind, and if sometimes he misses his first family, the village that raised a happy child in the midst of war and death.

“I am sad tonight as well,” Wangji confesses quietly, his barriers nonexistent around the person in his life who loves him unconditionally with the sweet trust of a child. “It is alright to be sad, even if you do not know why,” he adds as he reaches out to rest his hands on his guqin. A-Yuan immediately stretches his arms out to rest his little hands on top of Wangji’s and he relaxes just a little, thinking to himself that it’s nearly time to begin helping A-Yuan choose the instrument he’ll wish to learn for his musical cultivation.

“Close your eyes, A-Yuan. It’s time to rest,” he instructs gently and then he starts to play.

Memories of Wei Ying come flooding in as he plays the song he wrote for him. As he plays he can almost imagine the sound of a flute accompanying the strings and he sucks in a deep breath, his entire being - the very essence of himself - longing for Wei Ying.

A-Yuan dozes in his lap, his hands going limp where they still cover his own, and once he’s sure that the boy is unlikely to wake again Wangji closes his eyes and begins to channel the familiar flow of his energy. He stills the strings with his palms and then begins to pluck them delicately, listening hard.

‘Wei Ying?’ Wangji knows that it’s unlikely to work. He has to try anyway.

When there’s no answer, he pours more spiritual force into the question, sends it out further.

‘Wei Ying?’ He lifts his hands from the strings and stares at them, willing them to play Wei Ying’s response.

Nothing.

Wangji lingers for a while longer until his last glimmer of hope that Wei Ying will come to him tonight fades into nothing. A-Yuan is fast asleep in his arms so Wangji stands carefully and returns him to his bed, tucking the covers tightly around him to make sure he feels safe and warm. He extinguishes the candles in the main room with a wave of his hand and then he retires to his own bed, feeling numb. Tomorrow he will do it again, and nothing will change.

By unspoken agreement in the days following, A-Yuan begins to attend as well when Wangji practices his guqin in the evening.

It began the following night, and has continued every night since, with A-Yuan leaving the toy he was playing with to climb into his lap and rest his little hands on top of his again. Wangji can’t help but feel pleased that it seems the boy is going to want to choose to follow in his footsteps.

When he puts A-Yuan to bed after their practice has relaxed him, Wangji continues to return to the instrument and ask for Wei Ying. He knows that it’s fruitless, that there have been five years of nothing now and it’s unlikely that he remains. Even his body can’t be found, and Wangji knows that it’s entirely too possible that the resentful energies he held were too powerful to leave even a corpse or a shred of spiritual cognition once the spirits had him in their grasp.

He can’t stop searching.

Three weeks have passed since he sent his last search party out before one of the other pairs returns. He’s walking with A-Yuan around the training yard and observing the swordsmanship lesson when the husband/wife cultivation partnership he’d sent out towards Lanling approaches. He freezes in place and feels A-Yuan look up at him in confusion, but now is not the time or place to answer his questions. Wangji glances at the disciples practicing their sword forms, spots one he recognizes quickly, and he signals her to approach.

“Please take A-Yuan to play with his friends in the Children’s Hall, either myself or his uncle will retrieve him in a few hours,” he instructs.

“Hanguang Jun,” she replies with a bow and then she holds a hand out to A-Yuan and Wangji gives him a nod to reassure him as he glances back at him over his shoulder on his way around the courtyard with his new escort.

“Hanguang Jun,” the pair greets as he turns his attention to them and he returns their bow with his heart in his throat. Thankfully these are cultivators who know him reasonably well (as well as anyone outside his very small family circle can) so they know he has no interest in pleasantries.

“We flew the perimeter of Lanling, as instructed,” the husband of the pair begins. “We sensed nothing unusual and began landing in towns and cities to ask about strange occurrences, night hunting where necessary but always deferring to our fellows in the Jin Sect where possible.” Wangji is growing impatient so he’s relieved when the woman rests her hand on her husband’s arm to stop his full report.

“We see no sign of him, Hanguang Jun. Not even a whisper of the Yiling Patriarch except for idle gossip that flows like water from the mountain. We apologize for our shortcomings.” Wangji watches as the pair sketch another bow, discomfited by their nervousness to approach someone they saw as such an imposing figure with bad news.

“Do not apologize,” he replies simply around the tightness in his throat. “Rest today and return to your regular duties in the morning.” He begins to bow and then quietly murmurs, “Thank you.”

He watches them as they leave, walking almost close enough to touch and in perfect synchronicity with each other, and he aches.

For the next few weeks things go much the same way. One by one the search parties return, and one by one his hopes for news are dashed. By the time the last pair he’d sent out have returned from Yiling itself with empty hands, he’s too exhausted to continue asking others to search for Wei Ying. The waiting, the hope, and the inevitable disappointment have become too much to stomach. He wants to go himself, continue the search when he can be in control of it.

But he’s got A-Yuan to think of, and bringing him along is out of the question. The places he wants to search are dangerous and certainly no place for children, especially since Wangji wants to go by himself. He hasn’t hunted with another partner since Wei Ying and quite frankly he doesn’t ever want to, and he can’t singlehandedly fight and protect his son at the same time. But the idea of leaving A-Yuan behind now that they’ve become so bonded and such an important part of each other’s lives makes him feel physically ill.

The only thing that makes him feel worse is not looking for Wei Ying.

After his period of isolation but before he had officially taken over raising A-Yuan, Wangji had gone searching for him. He’d heard the news from Xichen that Sect Leader Jiang had been unable to find any trace of Wei Ying’s whereabouts, but he’d refused to let that discourage him. As soon as he was able, he’d gone to Nightless City to begin the search for him, only returning to Cloud Recesses when he had exhausted the potential of every possible ravine, every crevice, every dungeon, every rock. It was only the thought of A-Yuan and Wei Ying’s overwhelming love for the boy that had convinced him to return home to his duties. It’s been two years since the end of that search and the parts of him that ache for Wei Ying are yearning to return to it.

Playing the spirit communion pieces on his guqin helps curb his desire to go flying off without a word to keep looking.

‘Wei Ying?’ he asks for what feels like the thousandth time. As long as he receives no answer, he’ll never tire of sending those notes into the air. He takes comfort in them, really. In the music that communicates his soulmate’s name.

Wei Ying?

“Wangji.” The voice at the door startles him, his surprise evident only in the way his fingers twitch on the strings.

"Uncle," he greets stiffly in return. He makes no move to stand and he knows it's disrespectful but he can't quite bring himself to care. It's late and he'd expected to be alone. He wants to be alone.

"Enough of this, Wangji," Lan Qiren says with no other preamble and Wangji doesn't even deign to look up at him. He'd always hated Wei Ying, and the longer Wangji’s mourning goes on the less inclined he is to forgive the people who feel such negative things for the other. "Do you think people don't notice that you search for Wei Wuxian endlessly? Do you think they don't wonder at the reason?"

"Gossip is forbidden in Cloud Recesses," he recites dutifully, voice edging a little sharper. A warning, if Lan Qiren is willing to hear it.

"That doesn't mean they don't notice, Wangji," he retorts and only then does Wangji raise his eyes to meet the older man's. His face is as impassive as his Uncle's is twisted in anger.

Wangji meets his Uncle's glare levelly and, without breaking eye contact, gently plucks the strings again.

Wei Ying?

"WANGJI!"

"Shouting is prohibited in Cloud Recesses," Wangji replies and then adds, as an afterthought, "And in my home. A-Yuan is sleeping."

"You have duties here, Wangji," Lan Qiren replies tightly, though he's at least lowered his voice so Wangji can stop worrying that he's going to wake the boy sleeping just one room away. "You're distracted."

"Does my work displease? Xichen says nothing."

Lan Qiren is silent and Wangji stands slowly, tucking one hand behind his back and facing his uncle straight on. He used to fear him, the impact he had, the influence. He used to be so, so afraid.

His fear of the judgement of others died with Wei Ying.

"Uncle. I will continue to do my duty to my family and sect. Wei Ying is my familial duty as well. I will continue to search," he says quietly and he's fascinated to watch some unnameable emotion pass over Lan Qiren's features.

"It will only hurt."

"Even so," he murmurs, practically soundless, as he nods and keeps his eyes trained low. "I have a duty to him."

"Why?"

Wangji doesn't even dignify that question with a response. It had been asked of him before in various ways, and he is tired of answering when it seemes like it should be so obvious. Why would he stand with him? Side with him? Fight with him? Heal him? Care for him? Do his best to find him not once but twice now? Why? Why? Why?

He can't believe people are still asking him. He hates himself a little for not making his thoughts and intentions clearer, because clearly he didn't if everyone still feels the need to question his motives like this.

"Wangji. Eventually you'll have to stop."

"When I find him, I will stop."

His words are met with nothing but a long-suffering sigh and Wangji knows already that he's won this particular argument. The feeling is..almost novel, to win an argument against Lan Qiren.

"Nothing will dissuade you?"

"Nothing."

"Go, then."

Trust uncle to still find a way to surprise him and make him feel like he's on his back foot.

"Go?"

"Search for him. Xichen and I will watch Lan Yuan for you. Go find him."

Wangji freezes and thinks about the implications of his uncle offering this to him. No time limits, no rules, just an offer to care for their son so that Wangji can go find Wei Ying and bring him home. He's struck momentarily speechless and he's grateful that Lan Qiren lets him have this silence, letting him think it over in his usual ponderous way.

"I will leave in the morning after I deliver A-Yuan to the Children's Hall," he decides. It's fast, but he's been anxious to leave and search for weeks now. He feels guilt surge through his chest at the thought of leaving his son, but he knows that he, at least, will be safe and loved in Cloud Recesses, and it's Wangji who will be aching more for his own bed and his family.

"See to it. Goodnight Wangji."

"Goodnight Uncle."

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Wangji #Lan Sizhui #Lan Qiren #Wangxian #cql fanfic #a bit of grieving dad!wangji for your soft angsty needs

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secret-engima · 4 years

Text

Drabble for Time Travel Twins verse

(because I have no impulse control and SOMEONE *eyes @rayearthdudette* reminded me about Titus and then my muses ran away with me. Enjoy!)

...

-They are 12 when Titus first comes to the Citadel. Romulus is more than ready to stab him, because he remembers Libertus telling him what happened, that the man became a traitor, and any threats to Regis are threats that need to be removed, but Remus is … conflicted. One on hand, yes, Titus is a danger. But when? Surely the man hadn’t always been a traitor. Captain had taught him … so much. Taken care of them before going cold and hard in those final days. Remus is … biased he supposes. Reluctant to arrange an “accident” for the man who meant so much to him at one point, especially when he shows no signs of treason right now.

-So they watch, aloof and quiet (which is not unexpected for them considering their … backstory, so no one really notices), trying to find evidence of treason or loyalty and are both disturbed when they realize that Titus Drautos is … he is loyal. He is angry and hurting, having just lost his home of Cavaugh outside Insomnia and it’s Wall, but he is not angry at Lucis. He is not bitter toward the king, but instead seems to respect Regis in a polite, impersonal sort of way. He treats both twins with respect and manners, not questioning their paranoid looks, the way Romulus keeps picking a fight, or how Remus has nicknamed him Captain with a feral sort of smile even though the man is a Crownsguard rookie with no real rank.

-Sometimes he even steps into situations unprompted on their behalf, and while Romulus is convinced it’s a ploy to gain trust, Remus sees the crease in the man’s forehead when he interjects himself in a situation (a dispute with the other guards, a reckless prank he can see about to go dangerously south rather than just hilariously sideways) and his gut whispers that Titus is sincere. But then, he trusted Captain before and look where that got him.

-They are 16 when Titus Drautos disappears on a mission outside Insomnia. If they hadn’t been keeping a constant eye on him (hadn’t been making up excuses to be around him so as to search for treasonous behavior, hadn’t been getting attached despite the memories screaming that it was a bad idea) then they would never have noticed. Titus was one man amid the entire Crownsguard, and as good at his job as he was, as personal his reason for joining the Guard (saved by Regis when their “father” personally led rescue efforts to Cavaugh in the wake of the destruction), one man is so very easy to miss. Titus was new, he didn’t have that many friends in the guard, and most of them were on other missions and duties themselves. So when Titus was assigned to a milk run outside the Wall with three others and two of them came back with a report of a daemonic ambush, everyone else just shrugged with regret and moved on. Hardly the first time they’d lost a rookie to the Night.

-Except.

-Except Romulus and Remus know that Titus couldn’t be dead. They had not altered the timeline in a way that would have made the man die, surely. If anything, Romulus’s constant sparring challenges would have made the man more capable and besides all that, somewhere deep inside Remus still clings to the image of his Captain before the betrayal. The strong, steady, unbreakable presence that kept so many of them from throwing themselves into fights they couldn’t win because they didn’t want to come back to empty houses and shattered Clans.

-Except Romulus and Remus know that at some point Titus Drautos becomes Glauca, the wielder of an experimental regenerating armor, and Romulus has personal experience with Niflheim and their predilection towards immoral science.

-They are smart enough to leave a note at least. One telling Regis that they’re going looking for Drautos and will be back in a few weeks. Hopefully. Then they run, putting as much distance as they can between themselves and Insomnia before Cor can catch up to them and drag them home.

-It takes them longer than expected. Romulus remembered a lot of things and a lot of missions, but Niflheim holds a lot of territory and they can only hit so many bases before they risk capture and discovery from either side.

-But they do have some ways to narrow it down, and the twins lost their qualms against “aggressive negotiations” to gain information a very long time ago.

….

-Titus doesn’t know how long he’s been there. Only that it’s been too long. Far too long.

-Long enough to know that no one is coming. He is alone. Forgotten. Abandoned.

-Just like his home when Mors pulled back the Wall, not even sparing a thought for the region of small towns and simple villages right on his doorstep that were no match for Niflheim’s military.

-Long enough that he’s stopped trying to fight it when they come into his cell and unshackle him from the wall to drag him off to the lab for another session. Another agony filled day of them pumping black sludge and liquid metal into his veins and watching him writhe on the table as it forces itself into shape around his skin and then slides back underneath when the scientists press certain buttons.

-He hates them. He h a t e s them.

-He’s starting to hate the Lucis Caelums more. For leaving him. Just like they left his family to burn, just like they left all of Lucis to burn.

-(And in the back of his mind he knows that’s not fair, that he should hate the people doing this to him not those who live safe and far away, but he is helpless against these scientists who keep him drugged and shackled, and it is so much easier to hate the things that he doesn’t have to be terrified of, so much easier to keep himself alive when his hate has a target he can imagine lashing out at rather than the ones who have long since gotten wise to his escape attempts and tricks and pin him down body and soul).

-Titus has been here too long and as he is dragged to the table and strapped down for the (tenth-hundreth-thousandth) time he knows that no one is coming.

-He doesn’t realize that the shaking of the world is not just another side effect of his mind struggling to cope with whatever the sludge and metal does to him until the scientists stop in the middle of their work and start looking around.

-One of them looks toward the door and orders an MT to go check what was going on. The unit leaves and the pain resumes.

-Until the intermittent shivering of the world turns into one long, prolonged shake. Like reality is a wet dog and the entire lab is a stubborn drop of water that won’t quite leave the fur coat. Somewhere to his right, the head scientist, a weedy man with black hair and a propensity to laugh in childish delight when Titus gets violent, yells something that sounds like “earthquake? Here? Impossible!”

-Titus loses time easily on the table, and he isn’t terribly surprised when he blinks his eyes open without memory of closing them and instinctively looks around to try to reorient himself in regards to time (to whether the session is almost over or if he still has a long way of torment to go)

-Why is his face wet.

-Why does the wetness taste like copper.

-Is he bleeding again? Did the liquid metal come out of his skin too fast and open large gashes again?

-A blink of lost time, a sluggish glance to the right.

-Had … had the weedy scientist man been pinned to the wall by a sword through his chest for long?

-Why were all the scientists screaming? He was the only one who did screaming during the sessions.

-Another blink and the screaming was quiet but the alarms were like nails in his ears, so loud he almost couldn’t hear the words being said to him by the person yanking the restrains off his arms, “-kay, Captain, we’re gonna get you out of here. Just hang on. You hear me, Captain?”

-…Captain?

-Only one person called him Captain.

-He lifted a hand toward the … person? Hallucination? and brushed his knuckles against a slender cheek, metal skittering in and out of his hand, reaching for the person-vision-thing with something like curiosity, “Re … mus?”

-Blue eyes, darker than their usual ice, as dark as the ocean or the King’s magic, filmed with tears. The hand that took his was scarred in familiar patterns, burns that were done by fire but branched jaggedly like lightning, “I’m here, Captain. I’m getting you out.” A glance to Titus’s other side and a tightening of the jaw, “We’re getting you out. Just hang on, okay?”

-Titus had to be dreaming. Or dying. Finally. The royal princes were very openly not fond of him, for all they had chosen to make him their preferred pestering target and training chew toy for the last 4 years. They were only 16 and this was a Niflheim military laboratory. No one was coming for him, especially not the princes.

-Titus did his best to hang on to Remus’s shoulder anyway as the much smaller teen have carried, half dragged him down torn up, smoking hallways. Ahead of him, silver gleamed, not like the liquid metal the scientists kept pumping in his veins (that he was probably dying of right now) but brighter. Purer.

-Romulus’s armiger had always been a thing of deadly beauty, especially when Titus wasn’t on the receiving end of it. It carved through the MT Units that tried to stop them with barely a thought, the dozens of swords the boy had obsessively collected swapping from the air to his hands and back in the space of blinks, defending or destroying by turns.

-Not a single Unit or bullet got anywhere near Titus and Remus.

-Something coiled around him, warm and painful, but a … good kind of painful. Not like the scientists and their tools. More like the burn of a hot shower against sore muscles.

-Not a bad thing to feel while he dreamed up a rescue scenario as he died.

-A blink that lasted too long, because when he opened his eyes again, he was lying on his back, being dragged through the grass on some kind of makeshift shield sled. The sky was above him, so open and vibrant he hadn’t realized he’d started to forget what colors other than black, silver, and white were until just then. He didn’t dare blink away the tears that started, because he didn’t want to miss this. This dream of rescue and freedom in his final moments.

-It was evening. If he craned his head, he could see smoke rising in the distance. The base that had held him nothing more than an empty shell.

-The vision of Remus was still talking from where he and Romulus were dragging Titus’s shield sled, “-a little longer. We’ll patch you up once we get to the Haven, okay? Just a little longer.”

-He blinked. Opened his eyes to pain.

-Pain-pain-pain-painpainPAINMAKEITSTOPPLEASE-

-“What’s wrong with him?”

-“I don’t know! He might- he might be going through withdrawals from whatever drugs the Nifs used?”

-“It’s been hours past that point and it started up just now, withdrawals have more warning than that-!” swearing, loud and by his ear as he writhed in burning white agony, “Is he seizing? Hold him down till I get an elixir!”

-“-not working I don’t know what’s wrong-”

-“-ven! It’s the Haven!”

-“What?”

-“Captain never went on Havens! No one knew why, and he always had a good excuse so no one really questioned it but-.”

-“Daemon blood, it’s got to be, they probably used it as a conduit for the armor. The Haven was trying to purify him-.”

-“He’s off the Haven now, why hasn’t it stopped?”

-“We interrupted the process, the suit isn’t complete and we probably just screwed up whatever counted for stable with it-.”

-PainpainpainpainpleasejustmakeitstopjustenditenditENDIT

-“-dare die, Captain! Don’t you dare die on me!”

-Please.

-Just.

-E n d i t.

-Hand on his chest and on his neck it hurthurthurt-, “You don’t get to leave me behind!”

-Light.

-White hot light, brighter than the sun, brighter and more agonizing than anything in life before or after.

-Kids in front of him. Kids who thought they were adults, thought they were ready for war, thought they were ready for magic to reach inside and change them forever.

-His boys. His girls. His idiots.

-His Glaives.

-Blood and bandages, blades and crisp black uniforms edged in silver. “Appropriate,” laughed the shadow of the jungle and the storm on his heels and where did he know that voice from? Where did he know that shadow?

-Endless battlefields and unchanging training rooms, the flicker of braids in the corner of his eyes, meanings kept secret, meanings absorbed through exposure until the sight of pink made him cringe and the glimpse brown beads made his heart hurt in sympathy. A hundred faces come and gone, a dozen more that stayed-stayed-stayed. Brown eyes green eyes burning burning blue. Lips in a hundred different faces with a hundred different names, all of them looking at him and calling him the same thing in fondness-anger-respect-heartbreak-affection-trust.

-“Captain.”

-“Hey, Captain.”

-“Yo, Cap!”

-“For Hearth and Home, right Captain? As long as there is breath in my body, I follow that order.”

-A name on the tip of his tongue, a knowing that was fond and angry and regretful all at once. The glimpse of beads.

-Lightning branching scars made of purple fire.

-The pain stopped.

-Titus opened his eyes.

-And looked into burning burning blue, set in a face that was partially cracked open in branching lightning scars that bled purple fire, “Hey … Captain.”

-There was a name on Titus’s lips, and it wasn’t “Remus”, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what that name was. At least not before the world went dark and he passed out from the relief of no longer being in pain.

-He woke up to the crackling of a campfire and a sprawling night sky over his head. For a moment he lay there in utter disbelief, not daring to move just in case he woke up back in the lab. Something shifted off to his right and a moment later a small, calloused hand rests on his forehead, “Awake for real this time, Drautos?”

-Titus stares, “…Prince Romulus?” The words cracked in his throat and when his coughing fit died down, the prince who shouldn’t be there handed him a canteen of water. Titus inhaled carefully several times after drinking, then looked up again. The prince was still there, “…How?”

-Prince Romulus sat back on his heels with a carefully blank expression, “You’re a hard man to find, Drautos. And a hard one to keep alive.”

-“I … what?”

-The Prince looked over his shoulder and Titus jerked internally when he spotted Prince Remus curled up asleep on a bedroll, exhaustion in every line of his teenage body, his branching scars far more vivid than usual.

-Purple fire spilling free of skin and blue, blue eyes and memories he can’t see-hear-touch-.

-“You … you came for me.” Titus whispered, unable to believe it, but also unable to disbelieve it. Why?

-Romulus grunted and evaded the implicit question in Titus’s words, “It took us longer than we thought to find you. Didn’t realize the Nifs had so many labs, let alone in Lucis. Then we got you out to a Haven and whatever they pumped in you decided to send you into some kind of violent fit.”

-Titus could remember that, dimly, and it made him feel sick just thinking of the black sludge and the liquid metal squirming under his skin-.

-Except he couldn’t feel it anymore.

-He pressed his hands over his arms, trying to find the feeling of foreign, painful metal inside him and instead felt … something else. Light. Twin suns of light hiding in his core, one that nipped and grumbled at his senses like a winter-chilled river that looked calm on the surface but raged quick and fast underneath, and another that crackled and sparked eagerly down his bones like lightning and the pounding of rain. Magic. Twin cores of magic, humming under his skin in place of the horrible, burning liquid metal the Nifs had constantly forced into his veins.

-…The princes’ magic?

-Romulus saw his look and turned his face away, “Remus burned the Starscourge and that … metal … out of your body with his magic but something needed to replace it. It had … carved you up inside and leaving those channels empty … would have been fatal.” Romulus glared at the night beyond the Haven, “I’m not explaining that well. But that’s what happened. Then he passed out.”

-Titus couldn’t untangle his emotions properly, they were too jumbled and strong do to more than rasp, “And … you?” Because there were two distinct magics inside him now, he could feel them.

-Romulus shook his head, stood up and prowled a few steps away to the campfire before sitting down again and admitting gruffly, “Remus wasn’t enough. After you were purified, you went into shock. I’d brought along ten phoenix downs just in case something happened…” The prince inhaled slowly, whispered more to the flames than Titus, “I ran out. You were still fading. So I dragged you back.”

-“Why?” Titus’s hands were shaking and he couldn’t get them to stop, couldn’t think about what the prince’s words made him feel because if he did he would break before he could get an answer and he needed to know. Needed to know why the two princes that had never acted particularly fond of him would race into the wilds, would risk their lives to free him, and then would … give him their magic.

-It wasn’t Romulus who answered, but a sluggish Remus, who slurred from his bedroll, “Cause you’re our Captain.” Remus blinked sleepily, yawned and finished, “Hearth and Home. ’S what matters most. Hearth is where you stay, Home’s the people in it. That’s you.” Blue eyes fluttered shut again before Titus could think of a response, but when he looked over at Romulus, the eldest prince was watching him solemnly.

-The prince tilted his chin in agreement with his twin, then added very softly, “We were afraid of you because you’re from Cavaugh. Our father already has to deal with enough bitterness and backlash over Mors’ reign, we didn’t know how you would react, being so close to the royal family that failed your town. But then you disappeared and … a prince takes care of his people. We can’t save everyone, we don’t have that kind of power. No one does. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.” Then he shook his head, shifting to sit with his back to the fire and his sword on his shoulder, a soldier keeping watch even though there was no need on a Haven, “Go to sleep. You’ve been through a lot. We’ll call for pickup to Insomnia in the morning.”

-Titus lay back down very slowly, head spinning and limbs shaking, his entire world upended and shaky. Except for one thing. One realization, one burning vow, curling tight in his chest.

-These princes were his. They had come for him. When he’d lost all hope that anyone could come, they had. They had come and carried him to freedom, burned out the poison in his veins and given him each a piece of themselves to keep him alive when they had no obligation to do any such thing. No matter what he thought of Mors, or their father, for that …

-For that he would stand beside the throne without hesitation or doubt.

-He woke up the next afternoon to find that Remus had somehow migrated from his bedroll to Titus’s and was sleeping curled up under one arm, his magic tangling around Titus’s soul and keeping the nightmares at bay while Romulus, who had drifted over sometime in the night, dozed fitfully within arm’s reach away. When Titus stirred, Remus clung tighter to the tattered Crownsguard coat they had dressed him in at some point. Remus called him “Captain” the same way King Regis beckoned his Shield, (the same way a child called out to a trusted adult, and what had he ever done to earn that trust from two boys who were known to have been abused so badly by adults before), and Titus relaxed obediently into the teen’s hold.

-And he knew.

-He was theirs. Whatever they needed of him, whatever they wanted him to be to them, that’s what he would be. For them he would burn down the world if they only asked, and in their defense he would give anything.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Time Travel Twins verse #titus drautos #HERE BE ANGST #long post

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librarianbusdriver · 3 years

Note

Ted: Okay, where was I? You were telling us how you met mom. In excruciating detail. Right. So, back in 2005, When I was 27, My two best friends got engaged, And it got me thinking, maybe I should get married.

*Sigh*

And then I saw robin. She was incredible. I just knew I had to meet her. That's where your uncle barney came in. I suggest we play a little game I like to call Wait, no, no, no. We're not playing "have you met ted?" Hi. Have you met ted? So I asked her out. But after just one date, I was in love with her Which made me say something stupid. I think I'm in love with you. What?! Oh, dad. So then what happened? Nothing. I mean, I'd made a complete fool of myself. So, a week went by, and I decided not to call her. So you're not gonna call her? You went from, "I think I'm in love with you"

Trapped, the same hollow, dull story repeating again, and again, and again all around me. No way to change its course. No way to do anything but just... watch.

To "I'm not gonna call her"? I wasn't in love with her, okay? I was briefly in love with the abstract concept Of getting married. It had absolutely nothing to do with robin. Robin. Hi. Look who I ran into. Since when do you guys know each other? Oh, since about... Here. Lily recognized me From the news and... Hello, sailor! They just got engaged. Well, I should get back to the station. See you, guys. Nice seeing you, ted. Yeah, you, too. Thanks. What? Damn it! I'm in love with her. As your sponsor, I will not let you relapse. You blew it, it's over, move on. I don't know, I just have this feeling She's the future mrs. Ted mosby. ( Lily squeaks) Lily, you squeaked? She said something about me, didn't she? Come on, spill it, red! Fine. So, what do we think of ted? ( Iaughs) Ted's something else. Huh. I'm gonna spin that as good. Lots of guys are something, I'm something else. Comes on a little strong. But, that's part of my charm. But, that's part of his charm. Oh, totally. I mean, he's sweet, he's charming, He's just looking for something A little bit more serious than I am. I mean, the most I can handle right now is something casual. This just stays between us, right? Are you kidding? This flapper? Fort knox. Oops. She wants casual. Okay, I'll be casual. I'm going to be a mushroom cloud of casual. Cause it's a game... I want her to skip To the end and do the whole happily-ever-after thing. But you don't get there unless you play the game. So, are you going to ask her out? Yeah... No! I can't ask her out, Because if I ask her out, I'm asking her out. So, how do I Ask her out without asking her out? Did you guys get high? I got it. I don't ask her out. I invite her To our party next Friday. We're having a party next Friday? We are now. Casual. Like inviting a hundred people over just to mack on one girl. Oh, and lily, that's my leg. You waited five minutes to tell me that? All right, so call her up. No, calling's not casual. I just got to bump into her somewhere. Now, if only I knew her schedule, I could arrange a chance encounter. That's great, ted... you'll be the most casual stalker ever. Put that ring on her finger, lily had been, Well, extra affectionate. ( chuckling ): Baby, no. I have a 25-page paper on constitutional law due Monday. Hey, I'm just sitting here, wearing my ring,

Wallachia, how I miss you.

My beautiful ring. ( Typing) Kind of makes wearing other stuff seem wrong. Like my shirt. Kind of don't want to wear my shirt anymore. Or... My underwear. That's right, I'm not wearing any. ( Sighs ) No underwear? Not even slightly. Ted: Guys. Boundaries. Robin ( on tv ): Thanks, bill. I'm reporting from the razzle dazzle supermarket On 75th and columbus... 75th and columbus. Game on! Where four-year-old leroy ellenberg has climbed Inside a grab-a-prize machine and gotten stuck. ( Panting ) And, all in the pursuit of a stuffed, purple giraffe. For metro news 1, I'm robin trubotsky. Engineer: We're clear. Robin: Thanks, don. Whew. Ted. Robin, wow! What are the odds? Oh, you know, just, uh, shopping for, uh, dip. I love dip. I mean, I don't love dip, I like dip... ( chuckles ) so, uh, hey, you, uh, Reporting a news story or something? Yeah, kid stuck in a crane machine. How sweet of you to call it news. Wow. Kid in a crane machine. Mm-hmm. You just had to have that toy, didn't you? Couldn't play the game like everyone else. You're all sweaty! Cute kid. Um, you know, It's so funny I should run into you. We're, uh, we're having a party next Friday, If you feel like swinging by. But, you know, whatever. Oh, I'm going back home next weekend. It's too bad it's not tonight. It is... It's tonight. This Friday. Did I say next Friday? Sorry, I guess I've been saying next Friday all week. But, yeah, it's tonight, the, uh, the party's tonight. But, you know, whatever. ( Phone rings) Hello? Hey, am I interrupting anything? No, no, I'm just writing my paper. Hitting the books. Yeah, well, you and lily Might want to put some clothes on. We're throwing a party in two hours. Okay, bye. What are you gonna do when robin shows up? Okay, I got it all planned out. She steps through the door... and where's ted? Not eagerly waiting by the door. No, I'm across the room at my drafting table, Showing some foxy young thing all my cool architect stuff. So, robin strolls over, and I casually give her one of these: "hey, what's up?" She says, "hey, nice place, et cetera, et cetera." And then, I say, "well, make yourself at home." And, I casually return to my conversation. Then, an hour later... "oh, you're still here?" I say, like I don't really care, But it's a nice surprise. And then, very casually: Both: The roof! Get her up to the roof, And the roof takes care of the rest. What's so special about the roof? Oh, the moon, the stars, the shimmering skyline. You can't not fall in love on that roof. We do it up there, sometimes. Solid plan, my little friend. But, may I suggest one little modification. Barney: That foxy young thing you were chatting up, Take her up to the roof and have sex with her. Crazy monkey style... That's not the plan. Barney: Well, it should be the plan. I mean, look at her. Ted, look at her. She's smoking! Thank you! Yeah... But, she's not robin! Exactly! Ted, let's rap. Statistic: At every new york party, There's always a girl who has no idea Whose party she's at. She knows no one you know, And you will never see her again. Do you see where I'm going with this? Barney, I don't think so. ( groans ) Scoping.

I miss it all. The childhood spent in that bountiful castle, the beauty of those rolling green fields...

( Imitates sonar beeping ) Scoping. Man, you're a dork. ( Accelerates beeping sound ) Target acquired! Now it's time we play a little game I like to call "have you met ted?" oh, come on, not this. Hi. Have you met ted? No. Hi. Hi. Do you know marshall? Lily? Woman: No. Hmm. Do you know anyone at this party? I work with carlos. Excuse me. Anyone know a carlos? No. No. On a silver platter. Bon appétit. I don't think so. Your loss, her gain. Excuse me. Can I show you the roof? It's magical up there. Sure. Ted: Wait, wait. Hey, hey, I got that roof reserved. Dude, robin's not coming. Hey, she's going to show up! She'll show up. Ted: She didn't show up. At least it was a great party. I ate, like, four whole cans of dip. You always know what to say, old friend. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. No, no, not right away... got to seem casual. ( Ringing continues ) Hello? I'm so sorry I missed your party. Who is this? Meredith? Robin. Oh, robin! Hey! Yeah, I, uh, guess you never showed up, did you? No, I got stuck at work. But, they finally got that kid out of the crane machine. Did he get to keep the purple giraffe? Yeah, they let him keep all the toys. He was in there a long time, And little kids have small bladders. ( Chuckles ) robin: I wish your party Was tonight. It is... the party's tonight. Yeah, uh... It's a two-day party, 'cause that's just how we roll. Uh, so, if you want to swing by, you know, it's casual. See ya. So, that was robin. What are you Doing to me, man?! I got a paper to write! I know! Sorry! It's terrible! I'll buy more dip! Ted! Ted, wait! Get french onion! Can you believe this guy? I got a paper to write. Okay, fine. But, it's got to be, like, super-quick, And no cuddling after. I'm the luckiest girl alive. You were so right about the roof! The roof! The roof is on fire, ted! That girl from last night... I took her back to my place, Spun her around a couple times and sent her walking. She will never find her way back, and there she is. How did she get here? Did you invite her? I have no idea who that is. She said she works with carlos. Who's carlos? I don't know any carlos. ( Frustrated groan)

The conquests... the blood of my enemies spilled, and villages burnt to the ground in my name.

Hi, you! You're back! I sure am. Mmm. Come on, sweetie, I need a drink. "Sweetie"? Really? ( Barely audible ): Help. Whoa! Whoa, rabbits! Come on, I got that roof reserved. All right. So, it's over between me and works-with-carlos girl. Whoa! That was fast. Yeah. I was trying to think, What's the quickest way to get rid of a girl you just met? I think I'm in love with you. What?! Thanks, bro. Glad I could help. What the... No, no, no. Come on. Sorry, ted. Great. What am I going to do when robin shows up? She'll show up. She didn't show up. All right. We threw two parties. Everybody had fun. Everybody wanged, everybody chunged. Now, the kid has got to get to work, And the kid is not to be disturbed. Repeat after me. I will not have sex with marshall. Both: I will not have sex with marshall. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. Hello? Hi, ted. Amanda? Oh, denise! Sorry, you totally sounded like amanda. It's robin. Oh, robin. Hi. I totally wanted to come. I got stuck at work again. I feel like I live there. I'm sorry I missed your party, again. Hey, ain't no thing but a chicken wing, mamacita. Who am I? I guess there's no chance your two-dayer Turned into a three-dayer? It did, indeed. The party continues tonight. Yeah. Uh, last night, people were like, "keep it going, bro. Party trifecta." Wow! Okay, well, I'll be there. Great! See you tonight. So, that was robin. So, I threw a third party for robin... On a Sunday night. Well, this is lame. Lame... Or casual? Lame. Or casual? Hey, law books. Ready for a little 15 minute recess? Sorry, baby, I got to work. I need all my blood up here. Has anybody seen an introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923? Anybody seen a big-ass book? All ( muttering ): No. Woman: Hello, barney. Of course. You look well. Is it weird they invited both of us? Who? Who invited you? No one even knows who you are! I understand you're hurt, but you don't have to be cruel. Carlos was right about you. Who is carlos?! Hey, where the hell is my...? Oh...! Okay... An introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923 Is not a coaster! Ted, I'm jeopardizing my law career so you can throw not one, Not two, but three parties for some girl that you just met Who's probably not even going to show up! I mean, where is she, ted, huh? Where's robin? Hi. Hi, robin. Wow. So, you threw all these parties for me? No. Oh, you thought that... No! I... Okay, yes. You got me. One of the reasons I threw these parties Was so that I could introduce you To, um, this guy. Uh, I figured, you know, Since it didn't work out between us And now we can just laugh about it... ( laughs weakly) Anyway, robin, this is... Carlos. Oh! Oh! She's still talking to carlos. I can still win this. I-it's not over. Okay, buddy. Time for the tough talk. Robin seems great, but let's look at the facts. You want to get married. And right now, There's a million women in new york Looking for exactly you. But robin ain't one of them. She's not just one of them. She's the one. Yeah, well, the one is heading up to the roof. What are you going to do? Nothing. It's a game. I got to just keep playing it. ( Rock music playing ) Ted... Hey, carlos, can you give us a minute? Hey, no sweat, hombre. See ya. Robin...

Will I ever be freed of this damnable place?

Look, I didn't throw this party To set you up with carlos, Or the one before that, or the one before that. I threw these parties because I wanted to see you. Well, here I am. There's something here, look, unless I'm crazy. You're not crazy. I don't know, ted. I mean, we barely know each other And you're looking at me with that look. And, it's like... Like, "let's fall in love and get married And have kids and drive them to soccer practice." I'm not going to force sports on them Unless they're interested. ( Iaughing ) It's a great look. But you're looking at the wrong girl. No, I'm not. I don't want to get married right now, maybe ever. I'd feel like I'd either have to marry you Or break your heart, and... I just couldn't do either of those things. Just like you can't turn off the way you feel. Click. Off. Let's make out. What? What? That was the off switch. And I turned it off. I mean, look, sure, yes, I want to fall in love, get married, blah, blah, blah. But, on the other hand... You, me, the roof. There's no off switch. There is an off switch. And it's off. No, it's not. Yes, it is. No, it's not. Yes... It is. No, it's not. You're right. There's no off switch. God, I wish there was an off switch! Me, too. ( Both laughing ) ( both muttering nervously ) What do we do now? We could be friends. Oh... I know it sounds insincere when people say that, But... We could. I don't know, robin. I've made such a jackass of myself here. We start hanging out, every time I see you It'll be like, "oh, that's right. I'm a jackass." You're not a jackass. Look, I'm sorry. I only moved here in April and I'm always working And I just haven't met a lot of good people so far. But I understand. Well, uh, maybe in a few months, After it's not so fresh, We could all, uh, you know, get a beer. Yeah. That sounds good. I'll see you, ted. Or, you know, now. We could all get a beer now. I'd like that. My friends are going to love you... Like you, you know, as a friend. Jackass. Unbelievable. That's just a recipe For disaster. They work together! Are you jealous? Oh, please. What does carlos have that I don't? A date tonight. All: Oh! Stop the tape. Rewind. ( Imitates tape rewinding ) a date tonight. All: Oh! I'm not sure I like her. Hey, don't you have a paper to write? Dude, you're talking to the kid. I'm going to knock back this beer. I'm going to knock back one more beer. I'm going to write a 25-page paper. I'm going to hand it in and I'm going to get an "a." My name is rufus and that's the trufus. ( Iaughter ) Ted: He got a b-minus. But still, 25 pages in one night, b-minus? The kid was good. At least let me buy you a beer. Come on, I'll buy everyone a beer. I'll help carry. You know something, ted? What? You are a catch. You're going to make some girl very happy. And I am going to help you find her. Well, good luck. I mean, maybe new york's just too big a town. I mean, there's millions of people in this city. How, in all this mess, Is a guy supposed to find the love of his life? I mean, where do you even begin? Hi. Have you met ted? ( Music rises over dialogue )

I do not know if I can, but I must.

[STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB]

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOUUU-

#orange text #god #long post #ask to tag #the red text vaguely resembles the way my grandparent speaks #so this is very #disturbing

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