#haven’t been this sad since hazard left

[gabriel19900]

You called me Dave, I’ll always call you home 💙

#i’m not crying you’re crying #haven’t been this sad since hazard left #a proper send off for a proper player #cesar azpilicueta #loyal servant to chelsea fc #ben chilwell #frank lampard #trevoh chalobah #john terry #didier drogba #reece james #chelsea fc

[messyhairdiaz]

safe in your hands

buddie - rated e - 4733 words

In which Buck is surprised by what Eddie packed with him to quarantine

read on a03

It starts because Buck is just so fucking helpful.

Eddie’s been occupying the other half of Buck’s bed for two weeks now, his duffel left packed at the foot of the bed. It’s a tripping hazard, and a sad hope that any day now he’ll be able to pick it back up and take it home.

They both know it’s not going to be like that, but Eddie has ignored Buck’s comments about how he’d cleared out some drawer space and some room in the closet in favor of leaving everything folded in the bag.

But then, two weeks in, Hen and Chim are on shift while Buck and Eddie are not, and Buck trips over the bag for the upteenth time and it is very much the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Eddie is washing the breakfast dishes when he hears Buck exit the upstairs bathroom after his shower, and he also hears the telltale thump and muffled curse of Buck tripping over the bag.

“Eddie, unpack your fucking duffel!”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “We’ve gone over this! I don’t want to unpack it just to have to turn around and repack it,” he replies. Unpacking would feel like admitting this isn’t all going to blow over any day now, and Eddie is still staunchly refusing to do that.

More muttered cursing. “I’m unpacking the damn bag. I’ll repack it myself, but I’m tired of tripping over the fucking thing.”

Eddie scrubs at a plate, ignoring Buck’s theatrics. If he wants to unpack Eddie’s bag for him then let him. He can deal with the shirts, and socks, and underwear, and–

Oh shit.

The plate almost slips out of Eddie’s hand and he barely has the presence of mind to stick it in the rinse water before he’s sprinting up the stairs.

“Buck, wait–” he gets out, the words dying on his tongue as he reaches the top and has his worst fear realized.

Because Buck is standing there over the duffel open on the bed, fingers curled around the base of Eddie’s purple dildo.

To make matters worse, Buck hadn’t finished dressing after his shower, so he’s standing there in nothing but a pair of jeans slung low on his hips, his bare chest still slightly damp, his hair wet and curling, dildo held tight in his grip.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Eddie says.

Buck raises his eyebrows and looks back and forth between Eddie and the toy. “So this isn’t your dildo?”

“I– Well, yeah, it’s mine. But I didn’t bring it to use in your apartment.”

Buck furrows his brow. “I mean. Why else would you bring it?”

Eddie sighs. “Since Pepa’s staying at my place with Christopher, I didn’t want to risk either of them stumbling on it. But look, man, I know it’s weird, but seriously, I have no plans to use it.” And then, because he doesn’t know when to shut up when he’s talking to Buck, he adds, “I haven’t used it at all, actually.”

Now Buck’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You haven’t? Why not?” He demands.

Eddie fumbles for an answer. “You aren’t weirded out that I have one,” he says, which is not, in fact, an answer, but does shift the focus.

“Why would I be weirded out? I have a few.”

Well, that backfired, because Eddie had barely been refraining from imagining some x rated scenarios just from Buck standing there holding his, but knowing he has some himself? That he, presumably, has used, unlike Eddie? Well that’s too much for Eddie’s brain, quite frankly, and the image of Buck spread out on his bed, fucking himself with a dildo flashes through Eddie’s brain. He prays his sweatpants are baggy enough to hide the way his cock swells a bit at the thought. He was safer talking about why he hasn’t used it.

“Listen, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. I only brought it to keep it hidden, and I’m not going to use it here.”

“I mean. You can though.”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“I know masturbating in a four person loft is not exactly ideal, but it’s just us right now. I can go on a really long walk, you can text me when you’re uh. Done.”

“Buck. What? I don’t want you to leave.” His face burns red with the implication of what he just said. “Wait, not what I meant. I just mean, I haven’t used it, I have no plans to use it. You don’t need to leave.”

Buck’s brow furrows again. He’s still standing there holding the fucking dildo, but now it’s just hanging loose in his hand at his side, like he’s forgotten he’s holding it. “Why do you have it if you’re not going to use it? I– oh. Was this for– With Shannon?”

If Eddie had a brain in his head he would say yes. Eddie does not have a brain in his head. “No, I only got it a few months ago.”

“So… You got it for yourself. But you haven’t used it, and don’t plan on using it?” How, why, how are they still talking about Eddie’s fucking dildo. He kind of wants to die a little, actually.

“Yeah.”

Buck makes a face like he’s trying to do calculus in his head. “Why?” He finally asks.

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “I don’t know, I just kind of realized I’m bisexual but I’ve never experienced… You know. And it’s not like I was going to go out and have something casual, or date so I thought buying that would be a good idea. But then every time I thought about using it I just… Froze up.”

“But that is something you want? To use it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie admits. He doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed talking about this with Buck. Maybe because Buck is able to speak so plainly about it himself, about past hookups with men and how much he enjoys it whether he’s on the top or bottom, so Eddie admitting he’s been too… nervous and god knows what else to use a simple toy on himself feels like a failing, even if he knows Buck would never judge him.

Buck looks thoughtful for a moment before saying, “I could do it for you.”

Eddie must have misheard. “What?” He asks faintly.

Buck shrugs. “Listen, if it’s weird just tell me to fuck off. But once upon a time I hadn’t done anything like this either, I know it can be kind of intimidating to think about, so maybe it would be helpful to you if you had someone you trust that’s done it before doing it for you. Kind of guiding you through figuring out how you like it.”

It’s… Logical. It’s a bad fucking idea, but it’s logical.

Also? They’re currently living through a global pandemic. Maybe it’s time to say fuck it and just do what he wants. And this? God does he ever want to do this.

“Ok.”

Buck looks like he was expecting a no. “Ok? Ok! Uh, ok.”

“Did I break your brain a little?”

“A little, yeah. I was formulating a whole seven point argument in my head.”

Eddie laughs, not doubting that for a second.

“So what do we do, do we just… dive right in?” Eddie asks.

Buck shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. But, look, I’ll lead, but this is kind of all up to you. You need me to slow down, or stop, or I do something you don’t like, tell me. I want to give you a good experience.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Ok, good. Now that’s settled, take your clothes off and lie on the bed on your stomach.”

Eddie can’t decide if the way his cock jumps in his sweatpants bodes well for this encounter or not. He does as he’s told, and he can’t help the way his face burns when he shucks off his underwear and his dick bobs free, already hard. It’s stupid to feel embarrassed about being aroused, they’ve literally been talking about Buck fucking Eddie with a sex toy for god’s sake, but he does, so he quickly settles facedown on the bed to hide it.

He crosses his arms under a pillow and lays his cheek on the cool fabric. Buck’s digging around in his bedside drawer, letting out a little victorious hum when he produces a bottle of lube. Eddie twists his head to watch as Buck drops the dildo next to Eddie, the dip of the mattress making it slide down the sheet to rest against his hip, something inexplicable about that sending a shiver up his spine. Buck climbs onto the bed behind him, using his knees to spread Eddie’s legs further. Eddie didn’t even notice that Buck’s still wearing his jeans until he registers the rough brush of the denim against his inner thighs. The knowledge that Buck is still partially dressed while he’s totally naked before him has Eddie shifting his hips, gasping softly at the friction of his cock trapped between his stomach and the bed.

He hears the particular pop of the lube cap being opened, and he automatically tenses. Buck notices, of course. “Hey, just relax, ok? I’m gonna go slow. Work you up to it.”

Eddie nods and forces himself to relax with a deep breath. There’s silence behind him for several moments, so he twists to see what Buck’s doing. He’s rolling the lube between his thumb and fingers, warming it up, eyes glued to Eddie’s ass like he wants to take a bite out of it. Buck must feel his eyes because he looks up, grinning sheepishly. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a really great ass?”

“Buck,” Eddie replies, laughing.

“I mean, just really top tier ass, man, like, I’ve fantasized about it, but my fantasies didn’t do it justice.”

“You’ve fantasized about my ass?” Eddie asks, absurdly pleased.

“Not just your ass.” At Eddie’s raised eyebrows, he rolls his eyes. “Eddie, have you seen you? You’re not a snack, you’re an entire meal.”

Eddie laughs again. “Well, since we’re admitting things, I haven’t not fantasized about your ass. And other things. Jury’s still out on the real thing though since you’re still wearing pants,” his heart races, his words touching closer to the truth hidden in his heart that he rarely allows himself to think about.

But Buck just grins devilishly. “Gotta leave something to the imagination.” And then, before Eddie can express any disappointment, Buck grips Eddie’s ass with one hand, spreading him, and then he dips his thumb between his cheeks to rub around his rim. It’s… Not what Eddie expects. Truthfully he hadn’t really known what to expect, his mind had kind of oscillated between extreme discomfort and pure pleasure and instead it’s somewhere in between. It’s strange, having someone touching him like that, but it feels… Nice? Nice, bordering on good. He’s just relaxing into it when Buck switches it up. He doesn’t thrust his finger inside him or anything dramatic like that, but he does slip his index finger just past the rim, testing, teasing. There’s a brief moment of discomfort but it passes quickly, and Eddie finds himself rocking back, eager for more.

“Oh you like that, huh?” Buck asks, twisting his finger, but not pressing it in any deeper, just to be an ass.

“C’mon, I can handle more,” Eddie groans, rocking back again. Buck complies, sliding his finger in deep. Eddie moans. It feels good in a way he just couldn’t expect before actually experiencing it.

Buck fucks him with just that one finger for a little while, loosening him up. “Think you’re ready for another?” He asks, his voice thick.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie answers breathlessly, his fingers digging into the sheet below his pillow.

Buck slowly pushes a second finger inside him. It’s a stretch, and it burns a little, but honestly Eddie kind of likes it. And then Buck rubs up against something that Eddie knows must be his prostate, and Eddie sees stars.

“Fuck,” he manages, and everything feels too good to be embarrassed when the word comes out more like a whimper.

Buck sets a torturous rhythm, using those two fingers to loosen him while also keeping him on edge with occasional strokes to his prostate.

By the time he pushes in a third Eddie’s getting restless, time has slipped away to the point where Eddie doesn’t know if it’s been minutes or hours of this. “Buck,” he whines, and he must make some sort of move to raise up because the next thing he knows, Buck’s hand is broad and warm between his shoulder blades, holding him down. It’s not something Eddie’s ever thought about before, Buck, or really anyone, holding him down, but now that it’s happened he is acutely aware of how much he loves it, and the loud moan that spills from his lips lets Buck know as well.

“It’s a big toy, Eddie, I just don’t want to hurt you.” And, well, yeah. It is big. It may or may not be of similar size to what Eddie has glimpsed in the showers, but wild horses couldn’t drag that confirmation out of him.

“Buck, I’m going to scream,” Eddie says through gritted teeth.

“Hm? Well, maybe I want you to scream,” Buck says, but before Eddie can retort he withdraws his fingers, and Eddie gasps, the sensation of emptiness new and not pleasant. He twists to watch over his shoulder as Buck coats the dildo in lube, the purple silicone shining wet in the light. Buck presses the head against Eddie’s hole, and they lock eyes for a moment. Eddie reads the question in Buck’s expression, so he nods, ready for it.

He thinks.

Buck presses, and Eddie tries to relax but Buck had been right, it is a big toy. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but it doesn’t feel good either, and he knows tensing up doesn’t help. Buck grips Eddie’s hip, his thumb rubbing circles on his skin. “I’ve got you, Eddie, I know it’s a lot, but you can take it,” and, well, Eddie’s pretty sure he could take the toy and Buck at the same time if Buck just tells him he can in that tone of voice. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, moving the toy in the tiniest thrusts imaginable. Eddie takes a breath and relaxes under Buck’s ministrations, and he groans appreciatively as Buck pushes the dildo in a little deeper. He bends a knee, sliding his thigh perpendicular to his body, opening himself up a little more. He looks over his shoulder again and watches as Buck works the toy in and out, watches it disappearing inside of him. Buck is so focused on his task he doesn’t even notice Eddie watching.

Soon Eddie is rocking back towards Buck, both of their paces speeding up, lost in chasing more of the pleasure that’s trying to liquify his spine. It feels so good, so much better than he ever could’ve imagined, but also–

He hears a grunt that’s not his own. He glances backwards and sees Buck’s hand disappearing down the front of his pants, and he feels a hot shard of pleasure shoot through him at the realization that Buck is touching himself. That fucking Eddie with a dildo got him hot enough that he needs to get off.

“Hey,” he says softly, and both of Buck’s hands freeze like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “How about you toss that thing aside and fuck me yourself?” He asks, aiming for a bravado he’s not sure he feels. But he wants it so bad, the toy feels incredible, but he wants it to be Buck inside him, he wants Buck all over him.

He wants Buck in every way Buck will let him have him.

Buck blinks at him, like he can’t believe he’s real. “Yeah?”

“Please,” Eddie responds.

Buck releases his hold on the dildo, not removing it, which Eddie finds so hot, somehow. He just about trips over himself yanking his pants and underwear off, and then Eddie finally gets to see Buck completely naked, and it takes his breath away.

“Are you ok with rolling over?” Buck asks, and Eddie knows it‘s probably a bad idea, and he should probably insist on Buck taking him from behind, where they can’t look each other in the eye, but he’s weak. So he rolls over, the feeling of doing so while he’s still so full with his toy drawing a loud moan from him.

Buck settles between his legs, and Eddie raises up on his elbows to watch with rapt attention as he lubes his dick up. To be honest, It’s a gorgeous cock. Admittedly, Eddie’s never been this up close and personal to one that isn’t his own, but, you know. He’s watched porn, and he’s never seen one that draws his gaze like this.

He watches hungrily as Buck gives himself a few lazy strokes, putting on a show for Eddie or just giving himself some relief he’s not sure, but watching the head appear and disappear in the circle of his hand is making Eddie’s mouth water, and he realizes with a start that he desperately wants to taste him, feel the weight of him on his tongue. He wants Buck to come in his mouth, his fingers knotted in Eddie’s hair.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Buck asks quietly, his hand cupping Eddie’s face.

“Thinking about blowing you,” Eddie answers, too drunk on all of this to say anything else. But Buck’s cock twitches at his words, and Buck groans.

“You’re killing me here, Eds.”

Eddie drops back down on his back and spreads his legs invitingly. “Then do something about it”.

Something wild burns in Buck’s eyes. His hand disappears between Eddie’s legs, and Eddie’s expecting him to take the dildo out, but instead he presses against the base, pushing it impossibly deeper, the angle sublime, and then Buck grasps it, sliding it out achingly slowly until it’s just the tip left, and Eddie only has a second to realize what Buck’s about to do before he slams it back in, drawing a sound from Eddie unlike any he’s ever heard himself make. He hasn’t even touched his dick, doesn’t know if he even can come untouched, but he thinks if Buck does that again they’ll find out.

Buck draws it out again, and Eddie sighs in relief when this time he pulls it all the way out, even though it leaves him aching for Buck to fill him.

He must make some kind of sound, a whine maybe, because Buck’s eyes flick to his face as he manhandles his legs into the position he wants them. “I’m gonna give you what you want, baby,” he says, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat at the pet name that fell so easily from Buck’s lips that he doesn’t even seem to have noticed.

“I want you,” Eddie says, dumbly, because obviously. But he means it in every way, not just this. He just doesn’t know if Buck gets it, or wants that in return.

His fast approaching spiral is cut off with the first press of Buck’s cock against him. Buck is thicker than the toy was, and Eddie’s body is not yet accustomed to an intrusion like this. But he relaxes, much quicker this time, and Buck sheathes himself fully, holding himself up over Eddie as they both pant.

“You feel,” Buck gasps, “so fucking incredible, Eddie, you have no idea.”

“What about you,” Eddie manages. “You’re so– big? All-encompassing,” he’s not sure that even makes sense, but it’s what he feels.

Buck starts to lean in, and then stops himself, and Eddie realizes Buck had intended to kiss him.

“Please,” he rasps, and he’s barely finished the word before Buck’s mouth is on him. He feels - devoured feels cliched, but if there’s a more apt word he can’t think of it. Consumed, perhaps, no less cliched but also no less applicable.

Still kissing him, Buck starts rolling his hips, fucking him slowly, and, look. It feels incredible, pleasure immediately building hot and heavy in his gut, but it also feels like Buck is holding back, not going slow because it’s the pace he wants to set, but going slow because he thinks it’s what he needs to do. He’d been less tentative with the toy, and that just won’t do.

“Hey,” Eddie says quietly, breaking their kiss. “You’re not gonna break me.” Buck looks down at him, hesitation written all over his face. Eddie raises his hand and cups Buck’s cheek, thumb stroking over the bone. “You said I can take it, remember?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So fuck me like you mean it.”

Buck grins, that wild look back in his eyes. He plants one more fast kiss on Eddie’s lips and then sits back on his knees, his grip tight on Eddie’s hips, hauling one of Eddie’s legs up onto his shoulder, keeping his lower half lifted and positioned for him.

And then he starts fucking Eddie in earnest.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Eddie thinks he might be ascending to a higher plane. Buck fucking him with the dildo was good, sure, but Buck fucking him is a whole other thing. Eddie’s not even sure how to classify the noises he’s making, and he knows if he wasn’t so far gone with how good he feels he’d be embarrassed by them, but as it stands he doesn’t care, and it seems like his sounds just spur Buck on.

Buck’s grip on his hips tightens, and he’s all too aware that he’s going to have bruises later in the shape of fingers, and he can’t wait to press his own into them and feel that particular pain that’s more sweet than hurt.

Eddie moans when Buck shifts to hold Eddie up with one hand, the strength displayed shooting straight to his cock, hard and leaking where it’s lying against his stomach. Buck takes it in his hand, sweat, lube, and Eddie’s own precome slicking the way as Buck strokes him quickly, his hand timed perfectly with the snap of his hips.

“Buck,” Eddie moans when Buck digs his thumb into the slit, another pearl of precome dripping out.

“Let go, Eddie,” Buck breathes, and Eddie does, his back arching, chest heaving, hot come splattering across his abs as Buck works him through it, almost to the point of oversensitivity.

Eddie pants harshly, trying to catch his breath. He groans weakly as Buck pulls out of him, and he thinks for a second he was so lost in his own pleasure that he missed Buck coming, but no, Buck hasn’t come yet.

Buck grasps himself, angling himself towards Eddie’s already messy stomach. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly, and Eddie realizes what he’s asking.

He nods, almost frantically. “Please,” is his response, one of what feels like a dozen times he’s said that word today.

Buck jerks himself off quickly, so keyed up it only takes a moment before he’s coming, Eddie’s attention torn between watching his face and watching Buck’s come hit his stomach, mixing with his own.

Buck’s barely done before he’s ducking down and - Jesus Christ - licking Eddie’s stomach clean. Eddie’s cock twitches, attempting to defy the biological capabilities of a thirty year old man at the sight.

“Don’t swallow it,” he says as he watches Buck gather the last of it up on his tongue, and Buck obeys, closing his mouth but not swallowing, just waiting for Eddie’s next instruction, and Eddie feels another hot jolt at the realization that if he just wanted Buck to sit there holding their come in his mouth then Buck would.

But that’s not what he wants, and he pulls Buck down, thumb and forefinger guiding Buck’s chin up to his face. Their mouths meet, their lips parting, Buck already ready, pushing the come into Eddie’s mouth, Eddie eagerly licking it away. It’s obscene, and maybe one of the hottest things he’s ever done, the knowledge that he doesn’t know if he’s tasting Buck, or himself, or both of them together is almost too much to handle.

They keep kissing long after it’s gone, Buck slowly letting more of his weight rest on Eddie. It’s delicious, not far from the feeling of Buck’s hand between his shoulder blades, but more… settling. Eddie can feel Buck’s soft dick nestled up against his own, and there’s something more dangerous in that feeling than in anything they’ve done previously.

But, eventually, the kisses slow, becoming almost just lingering pecks, and then Buck sighs against his lips and rolls off him. They both lay side by side, backs of their hands brushing, and Eddie wants to take that hand so badly but he doesn’t know what this was for Buck. He hopes, oh he hopes, that it was everything for Buck, just like it was for him, but he doesn’t know.

They turn their heads towards each other in sync, both opening their mouths to speak, and both laugh when they catch on. Eddie inclines his head for Buck to go first, but Buck bites his lip, uncertain.

“What?” Eddie asks, his voice rough.

“I want to say something. But I’m scared it will ruin us.”

Eddie’s eyes soften. “Buck… I don’t think anything you could say right now could ruin us,” he says, and finds that it’s true. Because he loves Buck, and he’s in love with him, and he wants both of those things out in the open and reciprocated, but the first is true regardless of the second. If Buck’s about to say that this was a mistake, or just a little bit of fun, or anything else rejection shaped, well. It’s going to hurt like hell. But Eddie is good at nothing if not pushing through pain.

But – There’s still that shred of hope.

And that hope flares when Buck’s hand shifts against his, their fingers threading together with a feeling of finality.

“I’m kind of hopelessly in love with you,” Buck says, the words so quiet between them.

Eddie shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face. “Not hopeless at all.”

Buck’s eyes light up. “Yeah?” he exhales.

“Yeah. Because I’m in love with you too.”

Buck laughs, and looks like he’s going to cry at the same time. “Oh thank god, if I had to go back to pretending I wasn’t after this I think I would’ve just changed my name and moved back to Peru.”

Eddie laughs and rolls onto his side, wanting to be as close to Buck as he can. There’s a pleasant ache inside him that he knows later will probably not be able to be described as such, but for now he likes it. “I would just hire a PI and come find you.”

Buck lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, Buckley, not sure you’ve considered what you’ve gotten yourself into here. Now that I’ve got you I’m not going to let you go.”

Buck ducks his head to kiss Eddie deeply. “Good,” he says when they part. “I want to be held onto.”

Eddie hums his agreement and noses into the crook of Buck’s neck. They need to get up soon, shower, finish unpacking Eddie’s duffel. But he can’t find the energy to move just now and Buck seems to agree.

Buck snorts.

“What?” Eddie asks suspiciously.

“Oh, we’re just going to have to completely make something up about how we got together. Can you imagine? Ah, well, see, Eddie wanted to hide his dildo from his aunt–”

Eddie laughs. “Oh god, you’re right. Ok, all other milestones must be made in completely dildo free situations.”

Buck’s quiet and Eddie looks at him, checking on him, and he finds him staring at him in awe. He presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I told you, I’m in it for the long haul.”

Buck smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile. “Ok, well, don’t get too hasty assuming all milestones will be dildo free. You haven’t seen mine with all the ridges yet.”

Well, their showers can wait.

#911fic #buddie #buddiefic #911 fic #alright so this is pure filth like i'm not gonna lie #my fic

[icefire149]

An Angel’s Vow

Chapter Ten - (Read on ao3 | Read from the beginning)

It didn't take long to get all the shopping bags in the house. With the heel of her boot, Claire held the front door open for Cas. She knew it was because of his angel powers, but she was still silently impressed by his carry-it-all-at-once-I'm-only-making-one-trip game.

Claire followed behind him with Jack in her arms. He was still deep asleep and his face was squished into her shoulder. His downy hair pressed against her neck. She kept a hand on his back while they went into the living room.

Cas unceremoniously dropped the bags in the center of the room. He turned and his eyes softened, falling on the sleeping nephilim. "I can put Jack to bed." He held his hands out.

Wordlessly, she passed Jack over, and watched Cas take a moment to study the baby’s sleeping face. A prickle of irritation made her want to snap, that she didn’t do anything to damage the kid, but she managed to keep it choked down. Cas murmured something to Jack’s temple, and then he left a soft kiss there. After that he promptly disappeared upstairs. A weird tight feeling circled through Claire’s chest. She suddenly felt very alone.

Trying to push that thought aside, Claire started poking through the bags until she found the one with school supplies. They somehow managed to fill an entire bag with pens, notebooks, post-it notes, and high-lighters. Now she had to find a place for it.

Claire brought that bag into the kitchen and stood there for a moment surveying the room. Eventually she decided to toss it onto the table. With a shrug, she figured the table would be where their hunter school would happen anyways.

When she circled back to the living room, Cas was already there and sorting the clothes. He glanced at her over his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows. “Did you take the notebooks? They’re not here.”

“I beat you to them. They’re in the kitchen,” she said pointing with her thumb over her shoulder.

Cas nodded, and went back to making two piles. The next bag he picked up made him pause. “Oh, this one’s yours.” He passed it over.

“Thanks,” Claire mumbled, biting the inside corner of her bottom lip. She rolled the plastic bag in her hands. Inside was the black bomber jacket with the blue stripe down the sleeves and the galaxy shirt Jack picked out. Some tiny part of her just couldn’t leave them behind.

Cas went back to sorting the clothes immediately. Sighing, Claire slowly made her way towards the staircase. She didn’t particularly want to help, but she did glance back at Cas again. The bottom step groaned under the weight of her foot. “Hey Cas?”

“Yes?” He looked up. The traffic-cone, orange sweater, that Claire dubbed an abomination, was in his hands.

“Where were you going to store your stuff upstairs: in the closet or the drawers? I don’t wanna get in the way while I’m borrowing the room.”

His gaze squished into an intense squint. “I hadn’t thought about that yet.” The corner of Claire’s mouth hooked into a small, amused smile. Cas continued, “I suppose though...that I should just repack everything into the bags again. Store them out of the way down here.”

“Why?” Claire’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have an entire bedroom.”

“Yes, but I gave it to you. I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

Her smile vanished. Claire crossed her arms. “I’m living out of a duffle bag and the backseat of my car. I’m not messing with the furniture in your room.”

Cas’ head turned to the side. “But you could unpack and use that space while you’re here.”

“Or you could put your shit away like a normal person, because it’s YOUR ROOM!”

Standing up straighter, Cas tossed the sweater aside on the couch. His stare never broke from Claire’s. “For all intents and purposes the room is yours. I already told you that I don’t need a bedroom.”

“And I thought you said that I was free to leave at any time!”

“You are. I don’t under-”

“NO. So I’m supposed to just pretend I don’t see the whole little family act?” Claire took her foot off the step. Her voice dripped with venom. “Is this whole ‘helping me be a better hunter’ thing just something to ease your conscious? You couldn’t run away from playing house this time….so why not try to make up for lost time?”

Claire shoved the plastic bag into Cas’ chest as hard as she could. Cas didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak either. The shine in his sad, blue eyes made her want to scream.

The next thing she was aware of, Claire was slamming her car door shut. Her hands trembled, and that pissed her off even more. Again and again, she slammed her hands into the steering wheel until her eyes were too blurry to see a damn thing.

-

Claire had no idea how much time had passed when she heard a light knock on the passenger side, front window, but the blanket of night was indicator enough that it had been a while. There was no point in looking, she knew who it was so instead she started wiping the remaining tears away with the palms of her hands.

The door creaked opened and Cas slid into the front seat. In with him came the wafting smell of hot food, and Claire’s stomach immediately growled. She finally turned to him, and Cas held a plate out to her in one hand and a covered container in the other.

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you bring me grilled cheese and…?”

“Creamy tomato soup.”

She took both, and got herself situated with the plate in her lap and the soup container in her hands. But  Claire stopped herself before digging in. She eyed the grilled cheese cautiously. Only one corner looked like it was auditioning to be a piece of charcoal. “Did...you cook? Like actually made this from scratch?”

“Yes.” He looked away, leaning his elbow on the door. “And the house is still standing.”

“Why did you cook when you know it’s a hazard?”

Cas sighed, and rolled his gaze back over to her. He held it for several moments before speaking. “Eat before your food gets cold. I can still remember how unpleasant that can be.”

Nodding, Claire started taking big mouthfuls of soup. They sat there like that in silence while she ate. Cas stared out the window lost in his own thoughts.

It wasn’t until Claire’s bites slowed down that Cas finally spoke. “I’m sorry.” Claire burst into a coughing fit. Her mouth had been full, and that was the last thing she was expecting from the angel.

He continued while eyeing her carefully. “I never meant to upset you. I’m in no way trying to force anything on you.” Cas turned away and leaned back in the chair. He stared at the ceiling above him.

“I know.” Claire’s voice was quiet. She put the empty soup container in the cup holder between the front seats and slid the crumb covered plate onto the dashboard. “Loo-”

“It surprised me….I surprised me..when I asked you to meet me out here. Giving away my secret location…”

“Why’d you do it then?” Claire ran her index finger across the side of the steering wheel. “You won’t even let the Winchesters near Jack.”

Cas shifted his whole body as much as he could in the front seat to face her. “I was scared when you said you were hunting alone. The feeling was overwhelming.”

“I’m not a child, Castiel.” Claire clenched her jaw. The embers of her anger were growing hotter again.

“I’m aware.” There was a low warning tone in his voice. “Don’t mistake or misshapen my fears. This isn’t about coddling you or...treating you like you’re incapable.” The tension eased in Claire’s jaw. He continued, “Those feelings mean…..your presence as well as your absence...they matter to me. You matter.”

Claire stared at him in disbelief. Her hands squirmed awkwardly in her lap. “So the teaching sessions…?”

“I haven’t lied. I want to help you, and I want to pass my knowledge along.” His head tilted just a bit. “Claire, I’ll never be able to repay you or...make anything right. I know that, but….this is something I can do. And selfishly...I’d like you to be the best.”

Claire’s lip twitched. “That’s...uh..a high bar.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth pulled into a small grin. “Honestly, I don’t think it is. Many hunters speak of Sam and Dean like they’re legendary. And….while I understand the reasons why….”

“They’re stumbling ass-backwards into everything,” Claire grinned.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Cas deadpanned. He shook his head. “The difference maker is knowledge and I have millennia of information.”

Claire’s gaze fell to her lap. She felt a myriad of emotions bouncing around her head. It made her chest feel tight. “So….this is about your guilty conscious.”

“No,” Cas frowned. “Um...uh, well, to a degree, yes. I’ll never forgive myself for the wrongs I’ve done, but my guilt isn’t why I care...or why I want to see you succeed at something that I hear you enjoy a lot.” That got Claire to glance back at him. “I see you as my friend and as my family. Just like Sam, and Jack, and Dean. And...things have been hectic since I last saw you. A part of me honestly called you here, because I missed you.”

“You did?” Her lip twitched.

He nodded. “Initially, I thought distance would be better. I didn’t think you’d want me around….” Cas glanced down at himself and sighed. “or to have to look at me.”

“Well that’s not the case,” Claire snapped. Cas looked at her startled. Her voice softened. “I thought I never wanted to see your face again….but then I’d hear through the grape vine that shit was going down...and I’d be waiting to hear from you.”

She crossed her arms and refused to look at Cas. “I figured that if Jody was on Sam and Dean’s goodbye list for the end then I was on yours, right? And then I’d get radio silence.” Claire paused. The pain in her voice didn’t hide well. “It sucks being disappointed all over again…”

“I’m so sorry. I-I…” Cas reached a hand out but stopped halfway between them. Looking away, he withdrew his hand. His next words tumbled out in a whisper. “Of course I would have called you….I wasn’t able to when things went….badly...I’m sorry. That’s a poor excuse.”

Claire rolled her gaze over to him. “Explain then.”

“Okay,” Cas nodded. “So...Dean was dealing with the mark of Cain.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “That was a while ago.”

He sighed. “It was, but it’s where a lot of bad things started.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“It took a lot of effort to free him from the mark, and….he was resistant. Turns out he had good reason instinctually. Removing the mark also removed the bindings keeping the Darkness out of creation.”

“The Darkness? With a capital D…...Jody wasn’t kidding about that?” Claire stared at him incredulously.

“No, regrettably. Her name’s Amara, and….she’s God’s sister.”

“Yikes.”

Cas shook his head. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Claire turned in her seat, bending a leg and leaning her back into the door. “Sooo the mark broke and the Darkness was released. Nice going dumbass.”

“I know…...and it got worse.” Cas rolled his eyes. “The witch we had helping us with the spell-work, Rowena, she stole a very powerful book when the spell was complete and she….hit me with her magic.”

Claire sat up straighter. “Magic works on angels?”

“Yes, but luckily not perfectly,” he said very matter-of-fact. “She calls it her attack dog spell. And it makes the victim rabid until they drop dead with bloody eyes.”

“What….did it do to you?”

“I….I eventually broke through the rabid behavior, but I was still at the mercy of Rowena removing the spell completely. And she was persuaded to do so, but it did have lasting affects…” Cas wouldn’t meet Claire’s eye. He was carefully choosing his words. “The spell might have killed me in the long term, but it did dig deep into my being and shredded everything it touched. I’m grateful Sam and Dean were there for me during that time. The recovery was...longer than I would have liked.”

Claire nodded and ran a hand over her knee. “What happened with Amara?”

“Oh...yes. Amara.” Cas took a deep breath. “After that, Amara was the pressing issue. She took a personal interest in Dean as...he was the last bearer of the mark.”

“Gross.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas chose to ignore that. He continued, “We learned that it took Chuck….um, God – he likes to be called Chuck – and all the archangels to cage her away before.” Claire grimaced. “And there’s only two archangels left.”

“Okay, that’s a not so fun fact.”

“No. There’s nothing fun about that.” Cas shook his head. “And they’re both caged in Hell so….they weren’t exactly available.”

There was a quiet pause where Claire was still processing every bit of information Cas shared. She didn’t miss that he seemed to be growing uncomfortable. He was twitching and pulling at his coat sleeves. And then, it dawned on her. “You asshats freed the devil, didn’t you?”

Defensive, Cas argued, “We….I was trying to do what was best..for everyone.” Claire’s gaze narrowed. “Lucifer was our only option. We didn’t know where or who God was, and Sam was receiving visions as answers to his prayers. Sadly, we were being tricked.”

She nodded. “So, rip the band-aid off. How’d you do it?”

Cas frowned. “I….I couldn’t ask Sam to make that sacrifice again. Lucifer wanted to use him as a vessel again.”

“Again?” Claire coughed. Cas hummed in response. Claire continued, “We need to go back to that later. Keep going.”

“And Dean nee-the whole world needed Amara gone. To do that we needed Lucifer. So I said yes.”

Leaning forward, Claire dropped her face into her hands. “You let the devil walk around in my dad’s body. Your body.”

“I’m not infallible, Claire.”

“My dad would be spinning in his grave...if he had one.”

“Yeah….let’s not tell Jimmy about that. He would be rather upset.”

She lifted her head and stared at him oddly. “Last I checked Heaven doesn’t have cell service. How am I supposed to tell him anything?”

“That’s fair.” Cas shrugged. “These days I feel like anything is possible eventually. I’d like to be prepared.” Claire nodded. “Granted all you need is to send an angel with a note.”

Stunned, it took Claire a moment to speak. “If you weren’t hiding from Heaven...you could talk to my parents?”

“I could.” His voice came out softly. “If there’s anything you want me to pass along to them...let me know. One day I may be able to….or at the very least I might run into an angel I trust that could do that for you.”

Claire shifted her gaze so she was looking out the windshield instead. Quietly, she turned his words over and over again in her head. She was still processing when she gave him a small nod. After a few more minutes she was ready to push that information aside for a while. She turned back to Cas. “So if Lucifer was walking around in…..well, where were you?”

“Oh, um…” His gaze fell to his lap, guilty. “I agreed for him to possess me so...uh, I was right in here..as well. Only, he was in control and I had no way to overpower him.”

“You agreed to be trapped in your own mind?”

He still wouldn’t meet her eye. “Yes.” The silence stretched on long enough that Cas glanced up and saw that the last traces of Claire’s anger had cooled. She looked concerned, and between that and the guilt of his past mistakes, Castiel felt like his airway was being crushed.

“What….what happened next?”

“That’s where...it gets...uh, Dean...would call it fuzzy. I’m aware that he did pretend to be me, but that was short lived. He lost my car. He terrorized Heaven, and Hell. I’m told…..” Cas’ voice grew quieter. “-that Dean, Sam, and some of our tentative...allies..they put a lot of energy into reaching me so I could expel him.”

“Good,” Claire snapped. Cas’ looked at her quizzically. “What? I’d kick their asses if they didn’t fix your boneheaded dumbassery.”

His tone was sharp. “I did what I thought was necessary.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it was stupid.”

“I know,” Cas barked. They both sat there in their frustration for a bit. “Eventually….Chuck came back and Amara tore Lucifer from me. Problem solved.”

Claire glared out the window. Her jaw was taut. “Don’t do that again.”

“I don’t intend to. It was vile.” Exasperated, Claire exhaled loudly. Cas continued, “Chuck and Amara came to an agreement and the world was fine again. Lucifer was free so I spent my time pursuing him.” He didn’t miss the shiver that Claire tried to hide. Softly, he added, “But there’s nothing to worry about anymore. He’s caged. He’s just a distant memory.”

They sat there in silence after that. Eyes closed, Claire leaned her head back against the glass of the window. “Thanks….for you know, telling me…”

“Thank you for...being understanding,” Cas said gently.

She opened her eyes. “Our lives are insane.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be.” Claire shook her head. “Things suck, but I’m glad I met Jody, and Alex, Sam and Dean.” Her eyes looked sad, but there was a soft smile fighting to stay on her face. “Jack...and you.”

Dumbfounded, Cas nodded. The emotions swelling in his chest felt inordinate. Her words meant more to him than he knew how to express.

“Whoa!” Claire flew forward, putting her hands on the dashboard and pressing her chest to the steering wheel. “Did you see that?”

Castiel tensed. “What?” He leaned forward, studying the view in front of them.

“The lights flickered. Like some kind of power surge.” She opened the car door. “Come on, let’s see what Jack did this time.”

Exhaling, Cas deflated in his seat for a moment. He knew what caused the electrical issue and it wasn’t Jack. Cas took another deep breath and composed himself. He swiftly got out of the car, taking the trash from dinner with him. Before Claire could open the house door, he paused, “Claire?”

She pivoted on her heels, turning around. “Yeah?”

Momentarily, he struggled to find the right words. He knew that he needed to get this out now. “All...um, all you need to do is ask.”

“What?” She looked at him like he grew several more heads.

“In the future...if you decide that you want me around more...or less. Just ask.”

Claire rolled her eyes, and pushed the front door open. “Yeah, yeah. I get it now.” Cas followed her into the house. She went to the staircase and paused on the bottom step again. Her eyes found his. “I’ll consider it when you start doing the same.” She went upstairs, leaving Cas confused in the living room.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): 

@nightandwine  @autumnapologist

#spn #Castiel #Claire Novak #dadstiel #supernatural #baby jack truthing #An Angel's Vow #my writing #finally a new chapter

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Hey @elliestormfound, I wrote the thing!

Lambert x Jaskier, There’s only one bed

________________________________________________________________

Jaskier had absolutely no clue how he had ended up in this situation.

One second the bard had been walking along the road, not a care in the world, and the next, he had been grabbed. How he hadn’t seen the drowners along the path he wasn’t sure, but boy did he see them now. The one that had grabbed him tightened it’s grip and leaned forward, hissing.

Jaskier shut his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly how the bard had wanted to die. Well, he didn’t really want to die. But there had to be a better option than drowners. The next thing he knew, the drowner’s grip had loosened and he heard a strange, wet, thunk. Opening his eyes, Jaskier’s immediately locked with bright amber.

Geralt.

No, Jaskier realized, looking at the man standing in front of him, not Geralt. The man’s eyes were the same and he wore a wolf medallion over his armor, but that’s about where the similarities stopped. The witcher in front of him was tall and lithe, clearly strong and powerful, but he wasn’t nearly as bulky as Geralt. He also had a thin scar across his face and brilliant red hair.

He was rather attractive, Jaskier couldn’t help but notice.

“Well, thank you, witcher. That would have been a rather… unfortunate end, don’t you think? Did you have a contract for these? In a town? I hope it isn’t far, I was starting to think I would never reach one. A bath sounds wonderful after that nonsense, I’m sure you would agree! To show my gratitude I insist on buying you a bath! Now, lead the way” Jaskier rambled, ending his command with a flourish of his hand, gesturing toward the road.

The witcher stared at him.

Jaskier at once realized he had gotten ahead of himself, “My apologies, witcher! I haven’t even introduced myself! I am Jaskier, bard to the White Wolf himself. Do you know each other? He doesn’t talk much about other witchers but since you’ve a wolf medallion I would think you would know each other. And your name?”

The witcher cocked his head to one side before letting out a snort, “You’re the stupid bastard that keeps following Geralt around?”

“So, you do know each other!”

The witcher gave him an indecipherable look, “Yeah, and it seems like you really do talk as much as he says.”

Jaskier smiled broadly, “He talks about me! Well of course he does. So, the town?”

The witcher reached down and picked up a bag that seemed to contain various parts from the drowners he had cut up and then walked back to the road, the bard close behind him.

“What has he told you about me? Good things, I hope!” Jaskier said, scrambling to keep up with the quick paced witcher.

“Loud, annoying, persistent, doomed to die a gruesome death.”

“You know so much about me and you haven’t even given me your name! I can’t just walk around calling you ‘witcher’!” exclaimed the bard.

Letting out a sigh, the witcher glanced at Jaskier before answering, “Lambert.”

“Well, Lambert, it’s an honor. Now tell me,” Jaskier paused, glancing up at the sky where it was beginning to darken with clouds, “are we close to town? I don’t exactly like the look of what’s happening up there.”

Lambert looked up, “Won’t make it before the rain starts but we’ll make it by nightfall. What’s the problem, bardling, afraid to get wet?”

Jaskier huffed, “Incidentally, I am wearing some of my best silk and I was hoping I would be able to save it from the drowner muck from earlier, but if it starts raining I’m afraid any attempt to salvage it will be in vain.”

Jaskier watched as the witcher’s eyes slowly travelled up and down his body before smirking, “You’ll survive, bardling. Now hurry if you want to make it to town at all.”

“Right! Of course! Lead the way.”

-

Lambert had, unfortunately, been correct, the pair had not made it to town before it started raining. Well, raining was a delicate way to put the ridiculously torrential storm the two were wading through. They had barely reached the edge of the town as thunder and lightning started just over head.

Jaskier was soaked and cold and about as miserable as he had ever been when the two finally pushed into the inn, walking straight to the bar, “Two rooms, please, my good man. And two baths if possible.”

The innkeeper eyed Jaskier and Lambert worriedly, “I can send up a bath, but I’ve only one room left,” he said, sending a suspicious look toward Lambert.

Frowning, Jaskier looked around the rather empty looking in, doubtful that there was only room left, “Well, no matter! We can share.” Jaskier slammed coin down on the counter, holding his hand out for the key.

The innkeeper gave Jaskier an unimpressed look but handed over a key, taking the coin off the counter quickly.

“Come along, witcher,” Jaskier commanded, walking toward the stairs.

If the witcher had any complaint at being bossed around by the bard he didn’t show it, following the bard quietly to their room.

Pushing open the door, Jaskier immediately started throwing his things around, taking his lute out of it’s case, checking to make sure it hadn’t gotten wet. Once he was confident his lute was still in immaculate condition, Jaskier looked up to find Lambert… standing directly inside the door, eyeing the bed warily.

“Problem, Lambert?” The bard asked, confused as to why the witcher hadn’t moved.

Lambert shook his head, “No, I’ll… sleep outside.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows and looked toward the window, just in time to see a lightning strike, immediately followed by the loud crack of thunder, “Riiiight… I’m not sure why you would do that when we’ve already acquired a room.”

Lambert furrowed his brow and stalked over to stand directly in front of the bard, “You making a pass at me, bard?”

Jaskier, rather taken aback at the bluntness of the witcher, stuttered out, “Do- do you want me to?”

“I don’t think you could handle me, bardling.” Lambert said quietly, eyes darkening.

Jaskier perked up, never one to back down from a challenge, “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised to find out exactly what I can-”

A knock echoed through the room, cutting Jaskier off, making the tension in the room fizzle out. Lambert took a step back from the bard and Jaskier quickly moved toward the door, the bath had arrived.

The two remained quiet as they took turns in the warm bath water. After they were both done, Lambert was sitting silently, caring for his swords as Jaskier hopelessly scrubbed at his doublet.

Eventually the bard sighed out in defeat, sad to lose the new doublet, but those were the hazards of the life of the travelling bard, he supposed.

“I’m off to bed, Lambert,” The bard announced as he started getting ready, packing his lute and song journal away carefully.

“That an invitation?” Lambert’s voice was deep and sent a shock wave of desire through Jaskier.

“It’s not… not an invitation? And if you sleep on this floor tonight instead of the perfectly good bed, I assure you I will make you regret it!” The bard threatened.

Lambert snorted, “How would you do that, bardling?”

“I thought you already knew, dear Lambert. I am loud and annoying and persistent.”

Lambert leaned forward in his chair, “And destined to die a gruesome death.”

“Yes, well, death will have to wait another day to claim me.” Jaskier said, getting under the blanket on the bed.

It wasn’t very long before the witcher had finished cleaning his swords and stood up, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the floor. Lambert slid into the bed, pressing his chest up against Jaskier’s back, making the bard tense. “Still okay sharing the bed with me?” Lambert asked, lips brushing against the shell of the bard’s ear.

“Well…” Jaskier started, rolling his hips back into Lambert’s, making the witcher groan, “I don’t want you to have to sleep on the floor. And there is only one bed.”

#mine #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #lambert #jaskier #there was only one bed #trope #fanfiction #one shot #although maybe a smutty ch 2 could happen in the future #i dont know how to write lambert but i gave it a shot #sorry if it sucks

[sergiusreports]

Bunker door busted down, a stranger waiting at home? The A11Y swivels and looks around, nervous. "Ooooo. Uh oh." It rolls right past Atreus to investigate the bunker door, hovering around it like a fretting kid who just broke something they weren't supposed to touch in the first place. Eventually, it turns back to Atreus and spends a second scanning him.

"Ooh, we met before! In the snow. I think. Or maybe we've met before that?" A11Y alternates leaning back on its front left and right wheels. "...Am I in trouble?"

Sergius stepped aside and gave A11Y room to scan the bunker. "Yes. We've met a few times before." he wondered how clean of a slate Florus started with for each new iteration of ANY. A11Y's additional question about being in trouble caught him off guard. "We could have used the backup. If you had responded to my initial ping for assistance, it would have been helpful. Why did you ignore your directive for so long?"

The A11Y hangs its head down in shame as it continues to childishly sway from wheel to wheel. "I thought it was just another one of Father's attempts to get me back home. I'm sorry...I'm sorry. You won't tell on me, right?"

"I'm pretty sure Florus is already aware you've been ignoring him. He doesn't need any more information from me." The implication being that he sure as hell wasn't going to get any out of Sergius either. "But it still doesn't answer the question. Why did you start ignoring your directive?"

A11Y makes a sniffing sound - which, honestly, is odd since it's a machine that lacks tears. But it whimpers anyway. "I-I didn't mean. The bunker...I thought it would be fine! I really did! It just felt so, so good to do what I wanted. I made a friend, you know! But when I had fun, Father got really mad, and - and that felt good too! He never gives me attention. Always 'not now, A11Y.' 'Go do your job, A11Y.' S-so...so..."

Emotions. Sergius hedged and took a step back as though A11Y might have caught a virus. To make the odd sound of mimicking tears stop, he cut a hand through the air as if he could ward it off. "I understand." Almost. And yet all too well. "The bunker -is- fine. Standing around guarding it, less than stimulating, I get that. Is this friend that fat bird I caught on my drone's feed?"

A11Y does a little hop. "YEAH! He's so cute and nice! He loves to peck me right here -" The machine shows its shoulder to Atreus and, sure enough, there's a small hole in its coral carapace. "- and we go bug catching together!"

"That's..." it took him a whole second to say the word "great." Whatever it took to keep A11Y from tearing up again. "Friends can help when your father is..." another seconds long pause. "Florus." he checked the drone feeds again. No sign of Haila. Good. "You and the fat bird could stay here near the bunker and still fulfill your directive by guarding it. I've counted an array of insects around here." Then, more pointedly. "Because I've had the time."

"He doesn't like to go over here. Says it smells funny. I wish I could smell. I like funny." A11Y giggles to itself, leaving open the question of how it communicated to a dodo in the first place. "Father doesn't like funny. Do you? Do you have any jokes? And did your Father tell you to guard the bunker too?" A11Y is beginning to blabber again, the thought of the being punished temporarily gone from its mind.

It reminded Sergius of the time A6Y asked if he liked games. He felt something odd and hollow in his chest. "No. I never got around to learning funny." He doesn't give his response much thought, he can see A11Y is already distracted. The hazards of an AI given a personality coded to develop on its own. "No. I'm guarding the bunker because I decided to. There are bad people who want to take what's located here. I haven't noticed a bad smell though." Could birds detect aether? Who could say.

A11Y whines again, disappointed. "Aww, that's so sad. Funny things are so...fun! It makes you feel special and warm and tingly." But on the subject of bad people, it makes a timid whirring sound. "Oh...I think I know what kind...but you guys used to be 'bad people' too. I don't know what to think. Father says I shouldn't think so much, but I can't help it." A11Y tilts its head slightly. "Do you ever wonder about that? What's thinking? Is my thinking...the same as Fathers? Is it the same as yours?"

"Yeah, don't listen to that. You should think as much as you can." Sergius' reply is almost instantaneous. As A11Y continues, he can see it has reached the philosophical point of development. He wonders if its  childlike nature is a result of how its treated or just a stepping stone. "The processes are the same. But what we might think and the conclusions we draw could differ. That's why we communicate." he steers back to an earlier point. "You said you know what kind of people. What kind have you seen?"

The machine shakes, as if shuddering. "The really scary ones. The small ones in purple. They're so fast, and use weird...shadows. One of them got me, once. And a team of them got another me somewhere else, maybe. I don't know for sure. I haven't synced in a while. So are you saying if I think I think, then I think? Even if Father says I don't?"

Sergius continues to follow the two divergent streams of conversation in a way that might drive a Spoken mad. Luckily, neither of them were Spoken. "Yes. You think. You're thinking about thinking right now. He knows you do. Sometimes Spoken don't always state the truth." without a pause, he turns to the other issue. These small ones in purple sound like lalafell trouble. "Got you, here on this island? What do these weird shadows do if they get you?"

"Father is...lying? Father is lying?" A11Y repeats this several times to itself, caught in a loop. A beeping sound plays out of the machine, and that train of thought is cut short. A11Y shuts its eyes for a second, then reopens them. "Not here. Once, an iteration of me, in the Shroud. She had pretty red hair and pretty red eyes, but had a lotta knives hidden in her sleeves. From my scanners, I could tell she was drawing power from the void. That me got....I don't know, but I remember some stuff. Father synced my memories with what he could recover."

As A11Y shutters and appears to reboot, Sergius realized he might have just added to its learning process. And not necessarily in a good way. A realistic way, sure. Spoken lied. A11Y should know that. But not good. "That was only one possibility. He could also just not see you as capable of independent thought. It wouldn't surprise me. But it doesn't make the fact that you can any less true." What A11Y told him next caused his threat levels to elevate. ."The void?"

Just fan-fucking-tastic. This just kept getting better and better. "I think I know the red head you're talking about. This doesn't paint her in any better a light but it does make things more difficult." He would have sighed if he had been pretending to breathe. "A11Y, I really need you to take back the job of watching the bunker. Has this iteration built any defenses against an attack like that?"

A11Y burbles sadly as Atreus continues on about lying. "I...I don't want to think about this anymore. It hurts. It really hurts." It rolls closer to Atreus (perhaps seeking comfort), though it takes care to not accidentally stab him with its spear. A11Y lingers there for a moment, then lets out a small "mm" of agreement. "That first time, I didn't have combat data loaded into me, so that's why she won. But I'm stronger now. Rising is with me. So I'll do a good job this time. I won't mess up again."

"Then think about something else." It didn't make any sense to him. Why create a war machine with so many emotions? As it rolled closer, Sergius had the horrible feeling that it was seeking some sort of comfort from him. He momentarily felt his processes freeze in panic. A hand awkwardly pats a jutting piece of its carapace in a stiff ‘there, there’ sort of motion. Anything to keep it from 'crying' again. "Bug catching. Something like that."

As it explained about Rising's combat data, he realized his conclusions about what Florus wanted that information for were correct. How A11Y ended up with Rising's was anybody's guess. "Good. Because I need to return to Heartwood and let them know about the people using the void before we run into them."

A11Y takes Atreus's 'pets' like a champ, and then backs up with a giggle. "Heheh, that was weird! But I liked it. And...well." The machine sways again. "Promise you'll come back and visit? It gets so lonely out here."

Weird was right. "Agreed." Sergius stated, relieved when the A11Y backed up. "I'll come back and visit." he told it. "There's just work we both have to do first."

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #Heartwood Ventures #Distortion #A11Y #Atreus Sergius

[earth-ambassador-jim]

Lost Souls: Story 11

Something New

Lost Souls Summary: Merlin awakens early from his sleep. He decides  that he doesn’t want to leaving anything to chance and kidnaps the young  James Lake Jr. to began training his Trollhunter as early as possible.

Barbara  is determined to hunt down the man who kidnapped her son. In her  efforts to get her son back she finds a strange old radio that speaks to  her in a woman’s voice. The radio leads her to an underground society  of shapeshifters.

Mother and son meet again years later as strangers on opposing sides.

AO3 - Fanfiction

~~~~

~~~~

“Head up! Don’t block the blow: redirect it.”

Eli tries to comply but it’s hard when his arms feel like they’re made out of jelly. Instead of being redirected Jim’s staff pushes Eli’s down causing him to bop himself in the forehead with his own weapon.

Eli topples over like a load of bricks and lays there. A low whine seeps through his lips as his tailbone pulses with pain from hitting the ground too hard. That will be another bruise for his collection.

He’s actually managed to get more bruises training with Jim than he has from Steve. Which is really saying something.

“Are you okay?”

He opens his eyes to see Jim hovering awkwardly over him, staff still in hand. He’s shifting back and forth on his feet in a way that tells Eli he’s debating whether to keep pushing him or end the session here.

Eli doesn’t really want to disappoint him, so he tries to sit up. All his muscles protest. He lays back down. Yeah, he isn’t going anywhere. The training montages in movies really fail to capture just how much pushing oneself to the limits hurts.

“We’ll stop for the day,” Jim decides.

He sets his staff against the house before retrieving Eli’s and setting it there too.

“Can you get up?” Jim asks.

Now that he’s not in training mode he stands a little less straight and his expression softens from his previously sharp focused gaze.

“Yeah… maybe,” Eli says, his voice squeaking a little. “Just a second.”

Eli lays on the ground just breathing and trying to summon the energy to make another attempt at standing up. He knows he’s going to be sore in the morning again.

He honestly wants to give up. Clearly he isn’t cut out for this.

There’s movement to his right and Eli looks over to see Jim laying down beside him. The blue skinned troll blends in almost perfectly with the night; except for his eyes which glow a faint, ethereal blue. He settles on his back, head propped just slightly up by his horns.

“So…” The troll says slowly. “You were telling me that human constellations are different than troll ones?”

Eli nods slightly, unable to look away. His glasses slide down his nose. He quickly pushes them back up.

“Do you want to compare?”

“Really?!” Eli squeaks, surprised.

Next to exploring the strange and unusual, stars and space has always been one of his greatest interests. Something about the vastness and boundlessness draws him. He studies every book he can get his hands on.

This is a chance to learn what a being that isn’t human sees. That’s… that’s something beyond his wildest dreams.

But more importantly, it’s a chance to talk about something that he loves with a friend.

“Eli?”

Jim is looking at him rather nervously. Eli realizes that he’s teared up.

“I’d like that,” He says. He pushes his glasses up to swipe at his eyes before giving Jim a smile.

~~~~

As predicted, Eli is very very sore.

He spends the day limping through his classes. He wonders if this is what old people feels like. He’s so glad when it’s time to go home.

His arm positively aches as he transfers the textbooks he doesn’t need to his locker. As much as he enjoys spending time with Jim he’s glad that the Trollhunter won’t be over tonight. He doesn’t think he can take another round of training.

He plans to take it easy when he gets home. He can get his homework done and then he’ll see if he can snag enough of his friends from the forums to play a round of Among Us.

Eli flinches as a hand lands on his shoulder. Without turning around he already knows who it is. Automatically his shoulders draw up toward his ears as he pulls his arms in close to his chest.

“What do you want Steve?”

“Why, I was just worried about my favorite nerd,” The blond bully says with mock sincerity. “I haven’t heard any of your wild conspiracies and was starting to be concerned about your health.”

Eli hasn’t been sharing his theories and discoveries since meeting Jim because he promised Jim to keep trolls and the other creepers… creatures running around Arcadia secret. He still discusses aliens but he’s been sticking with his friends online and Jim now, since they don’t laugh at him.

He figured since he had been keeping to himself Steve would ignore him, but now he’s seeking him out because of that.

There really is no winning, he realizes.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Eli asks quietly.

Steve doesn’t appreciate that.

The blond bully shoves him and he hits the locker hard sending a violent jolt of pain through his back. His books fall out of his arms and scatter on the ground.

“Don’t talk back to me butsnack.”

Eli glances around but there’s nowhere to escape in the crowded hallway and, as usual, no one seems inclined to help.

“I think you need to spend some time in your locker until you remember your manners,” Steve continues with a glint in his eyes.

A whimper escapes Eli at that. He doesn’t want to spend another hour stuck in the locker again. His eyes dart around frantically.

Steve reaches for him and takes a step forward, his foot landing just in front of Eli’s spilled textbooks.

“Use your surroundings as a weapon.” Jim’s voice whispers in the back of his mind.

With no other options presenting themselves, Eli kicks Steve in the shin as hard as he can. The bully lets out a yelp and grabs at his injured leg. Eli doesn’t wait for him to recover. Ignoring the protests of his aching muscles he shoves him hard in the chest. Normally it would have done nothing but Steve, already off balance, stumbles and his foot lands on Lord of the Flies. He topples over backward and slams hard into the ground.

The hallway goes completely silent.

Eli stares, his heart still racing. He can’t believe it. He actually managed to take down Steve.

Steve Palchuck! The boy who’s been tormenting him since kindergarten.

Around him all the other kids start murmuring.

Then someone cheers and then the whole crowd is whooping and hollering.

Steve seems to have recovered from his shock and is getting up. He’s turning a violent red and it’s pretty clear that he’s going to get revenge. Eli has the feeling he won’t get lucky a second time.

“Hey! What’s going on here?”

Eli is about ready to collapse from relief when Coach Lawrance’s voice breaks through the noise. The crowd of students disperses like cockroaches. Steve backs off, shooting him glares.

Eli gathers his books and slinks off to get his bike with the distinct feeling that this incident will come back to haunt him.

~~~~

“Can you believe it?” Mary squeals.

Her fingers are darting rapidly over her phone. No doubt she’s already uploading a video to one of her many social media accounts. Steve is going to be livid.

“Girl, I saw it but I still don’t believe it,” Darci says.

Eli Pepperjack getting one up on Steve was the last thing she had been expecting out of school today.

“What do you think Toby?” She says nudging him in the ribs.

Since they’ve made it to high school and have Claire and Mary to hang out with, she’s determined to get him to come out of his shell.

Toby blinks and looks up from his phone.

“Yeah it was pretty cool,” He says, eying the other two girls hesitantly.

Claire give him a friendly smile and he awkwardly smiles back before quickly returning his attention to his phone.

Darci sighs and shoots Claire an apologetic look. Claire shrugs in response and then she, Mary and Darci continue to discuss the strange happenings of the day sans Toby’s input.

~~~~

“Would it hurt you to try to be a little friendlier?”

Toby winces. Yeah he deserved that one.

“Sorry,” He says, a slight flush crawling up the back of his neck.

Darci lets out a little huff.

“You should be, Mary and Claire are the best. Come on TP you’ve got to give them a chance.”

Toby doesn’t reply. Instead opting to instead focus all his attention on the game. His fingers fly over the controls. He understands what she’s getting at. He really does but well…

“I guess I’m just not ready for new people.”

There’s a ping as they reach the end of the round. Toby hazards a brief glance up and sees Darci looking at him with a puzzled frown.

“But you know Mary and Claire,” She says. “I’ve been friends with them for as long as I’ve known you. You’ve hung out before and never had a problem with them.”

“I know,” He mutters. “It’s just…”

He doesn’t want to admit it. It’s pathetic.

“It’s Jim, isn’t it?”

Toby gives her a weak grin.

“Have you been taking lessons from your Dad? Cause that was some real detective work there.”

Darci snorts.

“It doesn’t take a detective to figure that one out.” She gives him a little poke on the shoulder to emphasize her point.

Toby sighs and drops his controller.

“It’s not just Jim,” He admits in a subdued tone. This is something he’s thought about a lot. “It’s Mom and Dad, too… Heck even Dr. L just up and left. It was fine hanging out with them once in a while as your friends but what’s the point in me becoming friends with them? Once we get done with high school everyone is just going to move on. I just don’t want to deal with that.”

It would be bad enough when Darci moved on.

He can feel her staring at him.

“You know I’m not going to abandon you, right?” She asks.

Toby winces. It sounds bad out loud. She puts her hand on his shoulder and he glances up hesitantly. She’s smiling at him in a very gentle and sad way that makes his chest ache.

“Even if we end up on opposite sides of the world I’ll keep in touch. You won’t lose me okay?”

“You don’t know that.” It slips out before he can stop it.

Darci sighs.

“Look I… I guess there really is no way to know for sure but do you really just want to give up? Just like that? To spend your whole life alone?”

“Not really…” Toby says slowly.

“Then can you give them a try? For me?”

He can’t resist those big brown eyes.

“Okay,” Toby says. “I’ll give them a chance, but no promises on results.”

Darci’s smile and quick hug makes it worth it. Toby just hopes he won’t regret this. He clears his throat roughly and focuses his attention back on the screen. He starts another round hoping he can drown out the uneasy feeling in his gut.

“You know I really could use a larger audience to practice my magic for. You know all of my tricks anyway.”

Darci claps her hands together

“Oh! That reminds me. Mare told me there’s a new bookstore in town. She was going on and on about how cute the guy who was working the counter was, but, more importantly, she mentioned there’s a huge selection of magic type books. Want to go check it out?”

“Sure,” Toby says. “That sounds like fun.”

He doubts there will be anything real there but maybe he can find some cool props to use for the next talent show.

~~~~

~~~~

Author Notes:

Steve has really come a long way. He was a major bully back in the beginning of the series. Hopefully we'll get to see more character development for him in Rise of the Titans. (Also more CreepslayerZ! I miss the CreepslayerZ.)

Jim grew up with Kanjigar and Merlin's training so his version of "going easy" is still really pushing it for an inexperienced human. It's going to be a while yet before Eli is not sore again.

Jim learned the Trollish constellations from Kanjigar. While he never took him to Trollmarket, Kanjigar did start taking him outside within Merlin's barrier. Stargazing was Jim's absolute favorite thing to do with him.

Next chapter we get to see Jim's visit to his old home before he became a troll!

If you like this be sure to tell me what you think :)

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Trollhunters Fanfiction #Lost Souls #Child Champion AU #Jim Lake Jr #james lake jr #eli pepperjack #steve palchuk #darci scott #toby domzalski #tobias domzalski #troll jim #half troll jim #bullying #training #Darci and Toby are BFFs in this

[perishman]

The Prodigal Son

Hey so this is for @nastyburger and their Dannyverse AU.  Just so you know, it’s an AU that may not make sense without checking them out

Danny B. Fenton snorted, ashen grey smoke erupting from his nose as Dani landed behind him. For the first time in years, he was at Fenton Works for christmas, home of now world famous ghost hunters Maddie and Jack Fenton, as well as their elder child, Jazzy. It was once his home too. He knocked on the door. He didn’t know why, since he was expected. He supposed he just hoped it was Jazzy who opened the door. He was afraid to phase in. His parents might not buy that they “just didn’t hear him come in” when he was the most anticipated part of the holiday. 

After a few seconds of silent waiting, Dani turned to her brother, silently asking if he really wanted to go through with this. And B wasn’t entirely sure he was. But, he’d promised Jazzy he would make an effort. The Fentons were old by now; it was why the elder child had returned home. The door creaked open, violet eyes glancing out before it was thrown open to reveal Madeline Fenton, hunched over with hair more grey than red, her hands rough and boney. Danny’s smile was still half formed when she latched onto him with a hug. Maybe it was his Core that had always caused him so much trouble, but she was cold to the touch. Most humans were. Silently, Maddie waved him and Danielle in. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Danny felt the house take aim at them, reacting to their shared ecto-signature. Danny had once removed its ability to sense him and Dani, but Jack had yelled at him when he’d realized. Danny had pointed out that it could’ve been Jazzy, but the Fenton patriarch had rebuffed that by pointing out Jazzy followed instructions. 

Soon, Jack approached from the tree, a somewhat strained smile on his face as he said, “‘Ello Daneil. It’s good to see you. Same t’ ya Elle.”

Danny nodded, “Hi Ja- Dad. and uh, yeah. Glad to see you both as well. Merry christmas.”

“If yer more comfortable callin’ me Jack, call me Sparrow for all I care. Haven’t been yer father in years,” Jack said gruffly. Danny noticed it sounded more irate than sad. More bitter than apologetic. 

The halfa siblings each raised an eyebrow and held up some bags (Elle had food, B the gifts), to which a younger, less bitter voice rang out from behind, “Food on the counter, presents are hidden in the guestroom.”

Danny hugged Jazzy much tighter than his mother had done to him. He’d been meaning to call her for ages, bur grading and hunting had been eating up his time. Despite not being back here in ages, he didn’t need to ask where the guestroom was, given that there was only one option. When he got up there, he snorted. The bright blue walls still had the fades that came from his posters; it was the same desk, so on and so forth. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. 

“They didn’t touch it for years, ya know. They were hoping you’d,” Jazzy said with a pause, “come home.”

The redhead ran his hand through his hair and laughed horsley, “Considering how I left? Why don’t I quite believe it was a bilateral decision?”

Jazzy pursed her lips, not having a response to that. There had been a lot of yelling that night. Ancients, it had been Christmas Even then too. For the longest time, the most that Jazzy, Sam or Tucker had heard was that Danny Phantom was more and more active than had been normal. That his fire had been tinted blue. It had been a terse few weeks, and everyone was frightened out of their minds trying to figure out where Fenton was staying. When they found out Vlad had taken him and promised to hide him… It had been a difficult time. Loathe as the Phantom was to admit it, Plasmius had supported his human half in a way no one else could, and Danny was in his debt. 

Looking around the room some, Danny said, “I need to think about some stuff. You mind?”

Silently, Jazzy nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Danny looked around some more, and eventually found something he hadn’t seen in years. A picture of him with Sam and Tucker at eighteen, with the imprint of Dani in a nearly invisible red spot that almost no one else would see. If Danny had to hazard a guess, he was 19 here, and it was one of the last times he was happy at home. He sighed as he pocketed the picture and walked out. There was nothing more for him in that room, bar whatever present Jazzy had gotten him, he supposed. 

“Look who decided to join ‘is family afta all,'' snorted the old man from the living room. Danni glared at Jack, who snorted. 

Spitefully, Danny glared at his father and blew a smoke ring with his ghost sense. He knew it was childish, but Jack had been nothing but rude the entire time. To his surprise, it was his mother who glared at him with… a contempt usually reserved for Phantom... . Jack, for his part, almost seemed apologetic, before the mask was back on and he scowled. Both Jazzy and Danni rolled their eyes at their brother. 

Sensing the tension bubbling beneath the surface that threatened to lash out, Jazzy turned to Danielle, and asked, “So. Elle? What’ve you been doing lately? Last I saw on instagram you were in, Madrid, right?”

Danni nodded, “Yep. Met a cute girl or two, which was nice. But Spain isn’t for me; not a fan of their food compared to Italian. Actually I spent the last few weeks of my europe trip in Milan. But I guess I forgot to post it…” she shrugged. 

“Ooh, Milan. You have got to tell me all about it,” Jazzy said with a smile before she glanced at the falling snow. 

Danny tried to listen, really. But Danni had already told him about her time in Milan (and the girls she met there in some form.) He felt himself zoning out, before his father jostled his shoulder and led him down to the lab. Danny wasn’t sure what he expected, but the lab was still the best kept part of the house bar hi- bar the guest room. His father had to take an automatic chair to carry him down. The radioactive green of the portal still illuminated the basement, but there was now a glass container that Danny could tell was lined with ectoplasm to prevent phasing. Smart. The eldest fenton offered a beer, which the son silently turned down. But soon Jack had sat the two of them down, like when Danny was a kid. Then, Jack had called them their ‘boys talks,’ but now it was clear what this was. Two broken men, trying to fix themselves by fixing the other. 

“Now, you were always a bit oblivious on your best day. Which this most certainly isn’t. Suppose that’s my fault a bit. But, in case you hadn’t noticed. Your mother hasn’t said a word all day. Why do you think that is?”

Danny knew immediately, “Throat cancer. Jazzy told me a few weeks ago, when I was in Canada with Vlad… I tried calling, but…” 

Jack snorted, whether he believed his son or not being unclear, “Right. Ya know, when you were a tyke, I wanted you t’ meet Vladdie,” a snort, “more than anything in the world. But now? I wish I’d never met ‘im myself. Would’ve saved my family. Would’ve saved him, come to think. Regardless. I want you to tell ‘er. Before she goes. So she knows who you really are.”

The room went cold, as Danny knew exactly what Jack meant, and he tried to force the hurt down in a level tone, before asking, “You knew? For how long?”

“Knew you had powers immediately. Saw you fall through your floor, but you were too comatose from the accident to remember. Didn’t know you were Phantom for a while, but when Vlad won his first term- unanimous votes my ass- I realized somethings about him. Things were cemented when I saw you beat him into transforming back to human. If somethin like that could happen from Vlad’s accident…” he gestured to Danny.

Danny stood, eyes burning with tears and ectoplasm as he snarled, “You knew. You had to know I wasn’t some druggie. And you still let mom send me to rehab? You still wasted weeks of my life. You tore me from my friends. You still sided with Mom in almost every fight. How dare you ask for me to give her my secret now? You don’t care. You just want your guilt off your chest and think I can do that.”

“I’m the reason it was rehab and not the dissection table. Maddie was on to you, you know. By timing alone, and the devices going off. But I lied to my own wife, your mother, for months. I regret what I had to do, but not what I did. I saved my son.”

That gave Danny pause. He wanted to believe it. But years of being alienated from his family made him wary. Part of him screamed that if Jack was being honest with him, he wouldn’t have let Danny risk life and limb with minimal intervention. He wouldn't have shot at him. But the boy that wanted to be a family again ached at the possibility opening up. At being his parents’ son again. 

“Fine. I’ll do it. But after this? I don’t want to hear from you again, You’ll see me at the service, but after that, I’m gone.”

As he walked up the stairs, Jack sighed. Tears streamed down from the old man’s face. It was better Danny was angry at him, than the dying woman who’d nearly convinced him to experiment on his own son when they’d realized what happened. Jack didn’t see the incidents with Danny’s powers, it had been Maddie. And Jack had sent his son to rehab while he tried to talk his wife from the edge. He’d saved Danny, and all it cost him?

 His son. 

#Danny Phantom #dannyverse #danny b fenton #dani phantom #jack fenton #Maddie Fenton

[imaginedhaven]

In the Bleak Midwinter

a Rowaelin holiday oneshot

Summary:

Aelin Galathynius returns to Orynth for the first time in years after a rough breakup, having promised her cousin that they could spend Yulemas together. She couldn’t have known how much everything in Orynth had changed... or perhaps it was she who had done the changing.

As she runs into old faces and meets a new face as well, she comes to realize that perhaps her life isn’t done changing after all.

Word Count: approx. 15,000

Rating: M

Warnings/Contents: Modern AU, Kidfic, Non-Graphic Sexual Content, Flashbacks

~*~*~

Snow crunched under Aelin’s boot as she stepped onto the corner of a street she’d thought she’d never see again.

It had been five long years since she’d set foot in Orynth at all, much less on this street in particular. She had left the small town behind as soon as she’d graduated from high school, and had never intended to look back. She still wouldn’t have, were it not for an invitation from her cousin at exactly the right time.

A wind blew down the street, picking up snow that lingered in the branches of dormant trees. A child’s laugh rang clear as a bell down the street, and a lower echo came from behind her. “Aelin, you didn’t mention that you used to live in a literal winter wonderland.”

She turned to see her former college roommate and current best friend trying to catch one of the stray flakes on her tongue, more clinging to her chestnut curls, and couldn’t stop herself from smiling despite the hollow feeling in her chest. “Lysandra, I’m sure I complained to you literally every winter break about having to go back home to six feet of snow. There’s a reason I didn’t ask Aedion to pick us up at the train station.”

It was true; though it was no longer actively snowing, there was no way her cousin would’ve made it to the station to greet them. The snow must have only just ended recently, within the past half hour if she had to hazard a guess. No, even with each of them carrying a bag with them it had been safer to walk the short distance between the station and the house on the end of this lane.

The house had once been her uncle’s, and she had lived in that little house for more of her life than she hadn’t. She had moved in when she was only eight, after her parents had died, and she remembered standing on its porch for the first time as a terrified little girl.

Go on, Uncle Gavriel had said then, knowing it had been what she’d needed to hear at the time. It echoed in her mind as clearly as though he were standing behind her now, sensing her hesitation as an adult as readily as he had sensed her childish fear then.

Aelin shook her head, trying to clear the sound from her mind; he was gone now as well, just as her parents were. Aedion had called and written to her two years ago to confirm it, but she had only just started a new job at the time and had chosen to stay in Rifthold pursuing a career she had thought would mean everything. It had turned out that that job meant nothing in the end, but she couldn’t have known that at the time no matter how many times she laid awake at night wondering what had become of all of her dreams.

There was a lot she couldn’t have known then, she supposed.

Something cold and wet hit the back of her head and she gasped, whirling around to see Lysandra scooping more snow from the ground, mischief sparkling bright in her friend’s green eyes. “You’re thinking too hard!” she called, hands cupped together around a small mound of snow to compact it.

“Lysandra,” she tried, “that’s really not—”

The next ball of snow sprayed across her chest, flakes dusting her chin and cheeks as it exploded on impact. Lysandra doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees as she laughed. “Gods, but you should see your face!” she gasped between bouts of mirth.

Oh, it was on. Aelin carefully set her bag down beside her, slowly gathering her own mound of snow. “You have one chance to surrender,” she called back to her friend.

“Why would I do that? We came here to give you a break, Aelin, and I intend to deliver!”

Rather than throw the perfectly-shaped orb she now held in her hands, she set it beside her bag and began to form a second. “You would do that because you know how much I hate to lose,” she pointed out, “and you should know exactly what that’s going to mean for you. Last chance. Surrender.”

“Never!” her friend cried, and then it was on.

Within just a few short minutes both of their wool coats were completely soaked through, though they were still occasionally tossing snow at each other between fits of laughter and bouts of shivering. “Give up, and we can go get warm!” Aelin shouted.

“N-no!” Lysandra gasped. Time to play dirty, then.

Scooping a mound of snow in her left hand where her friend couldn’t see it, Aelin walked up to her…

And dumped the entire handful of snow down the back of her neck.

Lysandra shrieked, fingers clawing at the snow as it melted down her back. “You—”

“I win,” she interjected. “Say what you want, but we both know it.”

Without waiting for Lysandra to respond, she turned and lifted her bag again. This time, she didn’t hesitate as she walked down the lane to the house that stood at the end.

It hadn’t changed one bit from what she remembered, the tree where she’d first learned to climb still standing tall and proud in the center of a snowy yard. A sad-looking wreath was affixed to the door, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile at her cousin’s sorry effort at holiday cheer. If she had to guess, that was definitely a last-minute addition when she’d finally called him back and said she would come after all. She would have to find something lying around to fix it; she wasn’t sure how much of her old crafting supplies he’d kept, but she’d find something. She’d make do if she had to.

She was perhaps three doors away from the house that was her destination when her foot slipped on a patch of particularly slick snow—or perhaps it was already ice, it was hard to tell. With a gasp, she fell forward, and the air left her lungs as she fell on top of her bag. Well, maybe she’d looked like she’d been bracing herself on it for balance. With all the confidence she could muster, she picked herself up and took a single step forward into a firm obstacle that hadn’t been there earlier. Frowning, she glanced up, only to freeze when a pair of green eyes she’d long thought forgotten transported her back in time.

~*~*~

Aelin had just turned fourteen about a month before a new boy moved into the neighborhood, and the commotion was enough that she missed the baseball Aedion had just tossed her way. “Hey, do you have any idea who that is?” she asked him. “He looks like he’s maybe your age, you seen him around before?”

Aedion frowned thoughtfully. “No. He’s going into Maeve’s house. Didn’t think she had any relatives.”

“Oh. Well, maybe we’ll see him around at school? You probably more than me.” Not just because he was a boy, either; at sixteen, Aedion appeared to be closer in age to this newcomer than she was herself, unless she’d guessed terribly wrong. It was hard to guess, though, with his messy hair so light it almost looked silver in the morning sun.

“Maybe. Now are you going to throw that or what?”

Aelin laughed at the impatience of her cousin and obediently tossed the baseball in his direction for him to catch. “What do you think the story is?” she asked. “That’s way too much stuff for just a short visit. Do you think he’s…”

“Do I think he’s what?”

“Like me,” she said quietly. Alone, though she knew she couldn’t say as much to Aedion. She bit back a sigh. Really, she loved Aedion and Uncle Gavriel, and it had been so kind of them to take her in after her parents died, but sometimes…

She was better off not thinking about that right now. Maybe later, when she was alone with her journal and her playlists and her thoughts.

“Maybe,” Aedion replied. He tossed the ball back in her direction, and she caught it and threw it back. It went high, higher than her cousin could catch, and he swore and chased after it. While he was distracted, she took a moment to study the new boy. He was tall, probably even taller than Aedion, and that silvery hair that had caught her eye when she’d first noticed him was offset by lightly tanned skin that suggested he was coming from somewhere where the sun shone brighter and hotter.

He turned, then, and she was immediately drawn in by pine-green eyes before Aedion shoved her shoulder and broke their eye contact. “Hey, leave him be,” he was saying. “I know damn well you know it’s rude to stare.”

“Yeah,” Aelin muttered as he led her back toward the front door. When she turned her head to glance in the strange new boy’s direction again, he was gone.

~*~*~

“R-Rowan?” she stammered. “I thought you’d moved back to Doranelle years ago.” Not terribly long before she’d moved to Rifthold, in fact.

“I did,” he replied in that smooth rolling accent that had so captivated her from the moment they’d first spoken. “And then I moved back here, three years ago.”

“Oh. I see.” Gods, what was there to say after all these years? They’d barely spoken since high school, and had stopped exchanging even the most perfunctory of messages not long after. “How’s, um. Are you still with…?”

“Lyria? No,” he replied. “She… she’s gone. Passed not long before I left Doranelle.”

Oh. Well, shit. As much as she’d unreasonably disliked his girlfriend—his wife? She couldn’t remember now if they’d actually gotten married or not—she hadn’t intended to tread on what was obviously still a bad memory. “I’m sorry,” she managed.

He only shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “Aedion mentioned you stayed in Rifthold, after college. Haven’t come back since you graduated, right? Just like you said you would do.”

She shook her head, still stunned. “I haven’t. But Aedion convinced me to come back for Yulemas, so… here I am, I guess.”

“Here you are, indeed.” Though he still didn’t smile, there was the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I suppose it’ll get a little crowded around Aedion’s table for Yulemas dinner, then.”

Aelin blinked. “You celebrate with him?”

“Most years, yes. It keeps him from being alone, especially now that he and that guy of his have broken it off, and it keeps me… well, at least somewhat sane.”

She supposed that made some amount of sense, given his situation. If she’d expected to not have to spend the holidays alone ever again, and then was suddenly alone once more… well, that’s exactly why she was here now. What a mess.

A throat cleared behind her. “Aelin, you know this guy? Is everyone you know from here this hot?”

Aelin choked, and Rowan finally laughed. She couldn’t even be mad that it was absolutely at her expense, not when it had been so long since she’d heard the sound. “I’ve already answered that,” she replied. “Sorry. Rowan, this is Lysandra. We went to college together. Lysandra, um, this is Rowan. We—” Gods, what could she even say about him?

Thankfully, he stepped forward to fill her sudden silence—a far cry from the awkward teenager she’d once known. “I moved here in high school. We met then.”

“Well, I’m glad I got to meet you before we both awkwardly showed up to her cousin’s Yulemas dinner,” Lysandra smiled, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief at her friend’s easygoing charm. Lysandra made friends so easily wherever she went; she swore it was her skills at reading a room rather than any innate warmth, but Aelin knew better.

Rowan laughed, the sound awkward and stilted, and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

High School Aelin would’ve immediately asked him what was wrong. She would’ve pressed and pressed and not taken no for an answer until this man that had once been her friend had given in and told her everything on his mind. High School Aelin had been so much more confident, though. She hadn’t let what happened to her break her, hadn’t lost faith in all the world had to offer.

Gods, she was getting maudlin and she hadn’t even gotten into the house yet. Maybe coming here had been a mistake, after all.

Finally, she spoke. “Well, um, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon, then.”

“Yeah—shit, hang on,” he interjected as he turned. “Callie, get away from the road.”

Aelin frowned. Callie? Who on earth—

A high-pitched tinkling laugh sounded in reply, and Rowan started jogging away. “Calista Rose Whitethorn, I shouldn’t have to tell you why that’s a bad idea!”

Lysandra shot her a questioning glance, and she only shrugged. Had Rowan found someone else, after Lyria? It was possible, she guessed, though she’d never met anyone around here by that name and people only rarely relocated to Orynth of all places. Maybe it was someone he’d met in Doranelle and brought here?

A little girl, perhaps four or five, ran toward him and tumbled into the snow that had reached her waist by this point. When she righted herself, shrieking with laughter, Aelin noticed her dirty blonde hair that had been clumsily braided back and her hazel eyes. What truly struck her, though, was the angular jaw and determined jut of her chin that was all Rowan.

She was still frozen in place as Rowan hefted the girl into his arms, scolding her for having run into the street with the air of someone who’d given the same lecture a hundred times before and didn’t expect the lesson to stick this time either.

Aelin should have been used to the sensation of the world crashing down around her by now. She had experienced it more times than anyone should be able to count, after all. The feeling never changed, either, from the time she first felt it when she was told her parents wouldn’t be coming home ever again all the way up until her most recent boyfriend had left her to move in with another girl just two weeks later.

The feeling may have never changed, but Aelin never stopped being surprised by it. This was proving to be no exception as Rowan returned to them, the little girl balanced on his hip and his gait adjusting smoothly to the additional weight. “Sorry,” he said as they approached and the little girl buried her face in his coat. “We’re in the phase where listening to grownups is lame and boring, it would seem.”

“I can’t say I blame her,” Aelin managed, hoping it sounded flippant and not as awkward as it felt. “I make a point of listening to as few adults as possible.” She couldn’t bring herself to ask. She wouldn’t.

Though she hadn’t asked, it appeared he was going to tell her anyway. “Aelin, the last thing I need is you encouraging my daughter.”

~*~*~

Though Aelin had done a good job forgetting about the new boy until school started, once they learned their lockers were near each other she had begun a campaign to befriend him. It had taken several weeks to penetrate an aloof shell to reveal a shy and painfully awkward boy who was just as alone as she was, and now she was glad to call him a friend. The fact that he was maybe her only friend except for Aedion only had a little bit to do with it.

Though the status of their relationship had firmly changed from “neighbors” to “friends”, Aelin had recently found herself wondering what it might be like to be more. She’d known, of course, that one day she’d start feeling these kinds of feelings for someone. Uncle Gavriel had been so thorough with “the talk” that she had wanted to shrivel up and die on the spot, but the lessons had stuck.

She had never expected that this boy would be the one that would captivate her so.

At first she had tried to ignore it. After all, he was two whole years older than her, and she was sure she was just some dumb fourteen-year-old kid to him for all they were friends. Besides, Uncle Gavriel had said these kinds of feelings didn’t usually last in high school. She just had to wait it out, and hope she didn’t die of embarrassment if he ever caught her staring at him.

Only it wasn’t going away, and she found herself wasting away entire hours daydreaming about his stupidly perfect hair and his stupidly perfect eyes. Maybe the best way out was to get it out of her system. The only downside to that option was that she would have to actually tell him, and the very idea of that was mortifying.

She was going to do it, though. That afternoon, she’d watched him walk down the hall and she’d just known somehow that this was her day. She just had to wait for the right moment.

The right moment, she knew, would come right at the end of the day when they were both at their lockers—her preparing for the walk home, him stowing his things away to get ready for practice. If he shot her down, she would have plenty of time away from school to lick her wounds in peace.

She watched as he approached, and was prepared to call his name in greeting when his gaze slid past her, eyes widening and jaw dropping slightly.

Gods, but that was how she wished he would look at her sometimes. Should she look too? She was sure it would kill her, but would it be worse not to know? It would have to be worse not to know, right?

She turned and glanced behind herself, and immediately she saw what—or who, rather—had captured his attention.

She couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but she’d seen her around before. She was one of the cheerleaders, chestnut brown curls pulled back in a high ponytail and brown eyes warm as she laughed with one of her friends.

Rowan must have finally reached her, and he quietly asked, “Who’s that? Do you know her?”

“No,” Aelin forced out before walking away like her entire world wasn’t ending.

~*~*~

Aelin wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to break away from Rowan—and his daughter, her mind supplied—and make it into Aedion’s house. Ever since he’d introduced her, her mind had been in a daze. Thankfully, she recalled that Lysandra had done most of the talking; hopefully she’d supplied some kind of excuse for her stupid friend who was in the process of having her world rocked yet again.

But they made it inside and hung their damp coats up to dry, and soon Aedion was guiding them toward the two guest rooms he’d set up for them. Lysandra slipped into hers immediately, citing exhaustion from the trip in a way that meant Aelin absolutely knew she was lying. Aelin, however, followed her cousin back out into the main living space.

“I’m glad you finally managed to make it back,” Aedion said before she could ask the questions that had been burning in her mind.

Aelin bristled at the implicit accusation. “I’ve been busy,” she snapped.

“Gods, Aelin, I’m not upset, okay?” He wrapped her up in a hug that had once been so familiar, and she couldn’t help but relax slightly at the memory. “I really am glad. I know you’ve been busy, and I’ve never blamed you for doing what you needed to do.”

Aelin bit her lip as he spoke the words she’d both longed for and feared. Before she could stop herself, she was confessing one of her darkest secrets to the only person she thought had a chance of understanding her. “What if I blame me?”

As soon as the words rushed out of her, she realized just how true they were. Gods, she was such a mess now in comparison to the girl she had been. She’d left all of this behind, all of her family and the place she’d been raised, and for what? A job she hated in a city she despised, where she’d be working every day with a guy who couldn’t even do her the decency of pretending he hadn’t left her for another coworker? I can’t go back, she’d told herself every day. She’d told herself it was because she was living for the future, but it was becoming evident why she’d actually done it.

If she stayed here for too long, she wouldn’t want to go back to her job and her city and her life.

As nice as it would be, and as willing as Aedion seemed to be to help her with such a transition, she couldn’t come back. Especially not now.

Aedion was talking again, and she struggled to give him her attention. “—blame you, then that’s a different story. I can’t stop you from blaming yourself. But I have a feeling you don’t actually want to have that conversation right now.”

That part was true, at least. “You didn’t mention it wouldn’t be just the three of us on Yulemas,” she said quietly.

He stiffened. “Would you have come if I had?”

“Yes.” Aelin scowled and thought about it more. “No. I don’t know.”

Aedion chuckled. “So decisive. That’s why I didn’t bring it up. You were going through enough when you called as it was.”

“You could’ve at least warned me he was back. Or that he has a kid. Gods, I looked like such an idiot.”

When she looked up at her cousin he was grinning. “So, maybe not as over him as you thought?”

“Aedion!” she shouted, angry and humiliated at his casual mention of her stupid childhood crush. “Of course I am, I was just… surprised. I thought he was still in Doranelle with his…” she vaguely waved her hand in the air, realizing that she still wasn’t sure exactly what Lyria had been to Rowan in the end.

“You really did break off contact with everyone, didn’t you?” he asked, voice soft and eyes softer.

“You were the only one I spoke with at all,” she confessed. “There is—was—is nothing left for me here.”

He frowned. “You know that’s not true.”

“It is true, cousin. It has to be.” And even if it wasn’t true, it wasn’t as if she could simply change everything now.

Aedion sighed. “Well. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me, right?”

She tugged him into a hug before grabbing her coat. “I do.”

“Where are you going? It’ll be dark soon,” he cautioned.

“I know. I’ll be back soon.” Before he could say anything else, she slipped out of the front door, feet leading her to a particular destination.

The little park across the neighborhood stood empty just as it always had, a remnant from when more children had lived here. It had proved a godsend when Aelin entered her teenage years; every time living as the only girl in a house full of boys had gotten to be too much, she had slipped away to this little spot. She had done homework on the little picnic table that was somehow still standing, she had danced and run and laughed in the little field, but mostly she had sat in the grass—or the snow—and watched the little pond.

It was too small to be a good skating pond, even in the coldest part of winter. But there was something so peaceful about this little spot anyway that Aelin had never minded. Besides, if it had been better for skating there might have been more demand on the little area, and she didn’t like to share.

Rowan knew where it was, of course; he had once known almost everything there was to know about her. She wondered if he still came here every now and again, if he brought his daughter to see the pond and feed whatever fish still lived in it.

If he had, there was no sign of it now. The morning’s snow had blanketed everything, wiping away every trace that may have lingered. Now it was a place where she could be alone with her thoughts, and try to come to terms with everything that had been revealed in such a short time.

~*~*~

“Wait, so you’re not going to ask her to the homecoming dance? Why not?” Aelin could hardly believe her ears. After the past three days of hearing nothing but talk of that pretty brunette girl from the hall, maybe he’d finally gotten it all out of his system and they could go back to normal.

“Are you kidding, Aelin? I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He sighed, troubled green eyes staring out over the pond.

Aelin carefully schooled her face into a frown, though her stupid heart was leaping for joy. “Why not?”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t even be able to say hi. I suck at talking to girls.”

“I’m a girl,” she pointed out irritably.

“Yeah, but you’re different,” Rowan argued. “You’re not…”

“What?” Aelin demanded. “What, exactly, am I not that she apparently is?” Gods, just a week ago she would’ve longed to hear him saying she was different, but now… Now it was hitting differently, and she didn’t like it at all.

Finally realizing her sudden annoyance, Rowan began to mumble. “You know.”

“No, I don’t,” she said, tone sickeningly sweet to her own ears. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Gods, Aelin, you don’t have to be such a—”

No. No matter what his next word was going to be, she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not from him. Never from him. “If you’re going to yell at me, get out of my spot,” she snapped. “I was here first.”

He frowned, but something in her expression must have convinced him that this wasn’t a fight worth having right now because rather than snap back he sighed. “See, this is what I mean. I’d only mess it up. You’re already stuck with me.”

If only he knew how true that was. “I guess.”

“Hey,” he said, turning fully so his whole body was facing her rather than just his face. “It’s like you said yourself, we orphans need to stick together.”

She couldn’t even be nearly as mad as she should be at him throwing her own words back in her face. Gods, how pathetic. Finally, she asked, “So, if you’re not going to ask her to the dance, what are you doing instead?”

“What, me? I wasn’t going to go in the first place.” That sounded more like the Rowan she knew, avoiding large events and crowds as much as possible. The boy she had come to befriend tended to stay on the outskirts of any group, quietly observing rather than her own tendency to jump right in.

“But what were you going to do?” she pressed on.

He smiled, though there was something almost wistful about it that made her heart melt all over again. “Assuming you’ll allow it and I’m not actually kicked out, I was going to come here. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Maybe with my only friend, if she’s not going to be the life of the party out there.”

Aelin smiled. “Maybe she’d rather spend time with her only friend than go out, anyway.”

~*~*~

Aelin shook her head as though the motion would dislodge the memory. She had already stayed longer than she’d intended, and the sun had long since set. It was past time that she leave.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and when she checked it she had received a message from Lysandra. OMG, her friend had typed.

She smiled and replied. ????

You didn’t ever tell me your cousin was HOT. Where are you, anyway?

Her smile immediately turned into a scowl. Ew, Lys. That’s my COUSIN, I definitely don’t think he’s hot. He looks like me.

Yeah, maybe, if you were a hunky guy with shoulder muscles for DAYS.

Let’s skip the poetry about Aedion’s muscles, please. I’d like to sleep sometime tonight.

Just tell me if he’s single and we’re good.

I think so, when he invited me he said he’d just broken up with his boyfriend.

Boyfriend????

Aelin grinned. Problem?

Of course not! But does he only go for guys, or…?

Why don’t you ask him?

OMG Aelin you can’t just ask a guy if he’s gay. She could just imagine the scandalized look on Lysandra’s face, and she laughed before replying again.

I mean, I have.

And that’s why I’m the social one and not you.

Ugh, fine. He’s bi.

YESSSSS.

A noise attracted Aelin’s attention then, and she slipped her phone back into her pocket without replying so she could pay closer attention.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” a little girl asked, in a tone that made it obvious she was trying to be quiet but had absolutely no concept of how a whisper could actually be louder than speech when said the wrong way.

She couldn’t quite stop herself from shivering at the accented baritone of Rowan’s reply, though if asked she would immediately blame the cold weather. “That’s Aelin, sweetheart. We met her earlier, remember?”

“Oh. She looks sad.”

Rowan sighed. “Baby girl,” he started to reply, but the child—Callie, her name was Callie—was already darting over to her, a string of faerie lights dragged along in her wake.

Finally, her tiny little legs took her to the bench where Aelin was sitting, and hazel eyes were peering up at her seriously. Aelin blinked. “Um, hi. Callie, right?”

The girl grinned and nodded. “And your name is A… Ae…” Her little face screwed up as she struggled with Aelin’s name, likely due to the tooth that was missing from her smile.

Despite herself, Aelin found herself smiling back. “My name is Aelin, but you can say A if that’s too hard right now.”

Callie’s attention had already gone elsewhere, and with all the energy the gods had seen to give small children she was now attempting to detangle the string of lights she’d dragged through the snow. She seemed to only be making the snarl worse, but the look of determination on her face was so very Rowan that Aelin couldn’t bring herself to interfere. “Daddy said we can put lights up,” she explained.

Rowan finally caught up then, breathless as he tugged the girl into himself. “Calista Rose, what have we said about running off and introducing ourselves to strangers?” he asked, before turning his gaze on Aelin. “Gods, Aelin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for us to—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted, surprised to find that it was the truth. Maybe she’d finally gone crazy, but dealing with Rowan’s daughter sounded far preferable to listening to Lysandra drool over Aedion.

“Yeah, Daddy!” Callie exclaimed, and Aelin laughed at the sight of her lecturing her own father, hands on her little hips. “And she’s not a stranger, you said she’s your friend,” she accused.

Panicked green eyes met hers then, and Rowan grimaced, clearly trying to decide how best to answer. Surprising herself yet again, Aelin spared him from his struggle. “We became friends a looooong time ago,” she whispered conspiratorially. “He might’ve forgotten. Y’know, cause he’s so old.”

She met Rowan’s glare with a wink as Callie considered this information, hand on her chin in a gesture of deep thought. “He is old,” she allowed finally. “Really old.”

“Gee, thanks,” Rowan grumbled. “Anyhow, we can leave if—”

Callie interrupted with a whine. “But Daaaaaad, you promised!”

“Well,” Aelin replied as she pretended to consider the dilemma. “I can’t have you breaking promises to your own daughter. That sounds awful. I guess we’ll just have to help her put lights up.”

Rowan finally smiled as Callie cheered, promptly making an even bigger mess of her little string of lights. “Thank you,” he said softly before turning to help the little girl detangle the lights.

Once the job was done, Aelin carefully took one end of the lights. “So, where are we putting these?”

Callie immediately pointed at the table, dragging the lights over and starting to wrap them around one of the legs of the table in a way that could only make sense to a child her age. Aelin carefully dropped the other end of the lights and let the girl work, taking a few steps back to talk quietly to Rowan.

“Why’d you come back?” he finally asked, quietly.

She sighed. “I had to get away, at least for a little while. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, after…”

After she’d realized her job at Havilliard Industries had stolen her soul, chewed it up, and spat it out. After Chaol had left her for Nesryn. There was no way she’d be able to put those into words, though, so instead she finished with, “I just needed a break, I guess.”

“I guess I can understand that,” he replied slowly. “We moved here after Lyria died. There was nothing left for Callie in Doranelle, and I needed to find a place where I would have the time to take care of her. Orynth… it fit.”

“So, what do you do now?” she asked.

“You’ll laugh.”

“I promise I won’t. Here, I’ll go first. I got a marketing job, of all things. Not what I thought I’d be doing in the big city, for sure.”

“I run the local flower shop,” he finally admitted. “Not what I thought I’d be doing when I got out of the service.”

That was right; she vaguely recalled he had enlisted in Wendlyn’s military for a while. “Maybe not, but… it fits, right? It’s what you needed.”

He nodded before turning his gaze back to the child that was now running around the table to pick up the other end of the string of lights. “It is.”

“How is she going to light those?” she asked, curious. “There’s no power anywhere nearby.”

Rowan grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I gave her a string of battery-powered lights, isn’t it?”

Aelin laughed. “I guess so. How old is she, anyway?”

“Almost five. She’ll be in school this time next year.” A strange mix of pride and terror crossed his face then.

Before Aelin could ask him about it, Callie burst into a fit of triumphant laughter and turned the lights on, illuminating the area around the table with the soft glow of faerie lights. “Pretty!” she cried.

“It is!” Aelin called, before speaking again to Rowan more quietly. “Really takes you back, doesn’t it? Decorating this old place.”

“We do it every year,” he admitted quietly. “Ever since we moved back.”

And just like that, Aelin’s whole world changed again.

~*~*~

“Come on!” she shouted as she dragged Rowan along behind her, a thrill in her chest from the sensation of her own hand wrapped around his wrist. “Hurry up!”

“Where are we going?” he demanded.

“To the park, come on! It’s Yulemas, you’ve got to see this!”

They finally reached the table by the pond, and he crossed his arms across his chest as she finally dropped his hand. “Thanks, Aelin. It looks exactly like it did yesterday.”

“Ugh! Boys.” Aelin shook her head before digging in the bag she’d brought with her and finding the little candles she’d tucked into it.

“What?”

“It’s not about what it is now,” she insisted. “It’s about what it can be. This is maybe the prettiest place in all of Orynth. Even prettier than Main Street.”

“Given how excited you were to drag me to each and every storefront to appreciate the lights from different angles, you’ll have to forgive me for doubting that you actually like this better.”

“Please, it’s not like you were doing anything better that weekend.” It was true; Rowan had never worked up the nerve to talk to that cheerleader girl after all, and their friendship had mostly recovered from that fight they’d had here two months before. “Now help me out,” she demanded.

“What are we even doing?”

“Making a place for these candles.” Carefully, with his help, they leveled off the snow that had gathered on top of the picnic table, and she placed the little tealight candles around the table with a few sprigs of holly.

“Is this even safe?” he asked, though he kept helping anyway, obediently placing candles where she pointed.

“Of course it’s safe! These blow themselves out before they would hurt anything, and it’s not like we’re going to just leave them.” Aelin dug in her bag for the lighter she’d snuck out of Uncle Gavriel’s kitchen, grinning as Rowan’s eyes went wide with nerves.

“Wait, you’re seriously going to light them? Where did you even get that?”

“From Uncle Gavriel. Please, like you’ve never borrowed anything from Aunt Maeve.”

“I’m pretty sure Aunt Maeve would kill me if I took something like that,” he replied seriously. “Look, if we’re actually going to do this, maybe I should…”

“Nope! This is the best part!” Aelin carefully went around the table, lighting each and every candle they’d set out. “Okay. Now sit down and just look at it.”

Rowan obeyed, though he still looked skeptical. “It looks like candles on a table.”

“If you look at them just right, it’s like they’re glimmering out on the ice,” she replied as she joined him. “Do you see it yet?”

From her place beside him, she could tell the moment he finally let himself take in the whole scene. “I guess it’s nice,” he allowed.

“Ugh, you don’t have to be such a boy about it. It’s okay to like things, you know.”

“I know.”

And they sat in silence after that, watching candlelight flicker on the snowy picnic table until each tiny candle blinked back into darkness.

~*~*~

Despite everything that being back in Orynth was stirring up, Aelin woke up the next morning with a smile. As complicated as this place was for her, something about the way the morning sun hit the soft snow blanketing the yard never failed to bring her at least a few moments of peace.

It only rarely snowed in Rifthold, and never to the extent that it regularly did here. Aelin hadn’t seen a setting like the one that was waiting outside her window in years now, and she found she missed it. Of all the complications that Orynth meant to her, this had never been one of them.

Perhaps she’d be able to convince Lysandra to play in the snow later.

Quickly, she got dressed in the layers that living in Orynth required, leggings under her jeans and a sweater over a long sleeved shirt, before slipping down the hall in sock-clad feet. Both of the other bedrooms were completely silent, but she heard noises from the kitchen, so she went to investigate.

It was for the best, really. She was a terrible cook, and if Aedion was awake she could probably con him into making eggs and bacon before her day of frolicking in the snow. She turned the corner into the kitchen…

And froze in the entryway.

Aedion was at the counter next to the stove, wearing his typical morning outfit of plaid pajama pants and a worn shirt. That in itself wasn’t nearly enough to give her pause. But the leg thrown over his hip and the husky laugh of his companion absolutely was. Damn, but Lysandra moved fast. Had she even slept the night in her own guest bed?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know either. It was time to make a quick escape.

Her boots were still beside the door from where she had kicked them off after returning from her unexpected evening with both Rowan and his child. It was the work of a few short minutes to tug them back onto her feet and slip out of the front door, tugging on her coat and winding a scarf around her neck.

High-pitched laughter met her once she had closed the door, and a glance down the lane revealed little Callie having stumbled into a snowbank, large flakes sticking to the twin braids that contained her dirty blonde hair this morning. Rowan wasn’t far behind her, and he was doing his best to hide the grin on his face as he offered to help her free of the snow.

The little girl pulled herself free, only to immediately fall back onto her rear on the sidewalk. The motion had spun her around until she was facing where Aelin stood, and as soon as she saw her she was up again, running toward her and screaming, “Miss A! Miss A!”

Aelin laughed at the child’s enthusiasm, warmed by it in spite of herself. “What are you up to today?”

Callie pointed back at the yard from which she’d run. “Snowman!”

Sure enough, there was a sad little mound of snow standing in the center of the yard. “Are you doing it yourself, or is your dad helping?”

“I’m doing it,” she declared proudly. “I’m not done yet.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you from finishing it,” Aelin said, tweaking one of the girl’s braids.

“Watch me!” she shouted as she ran back toward her own yard and her father.

Well, it was definitely a better idea for her morning than being a third wheel for her friend and her cousin. Mind made up, she marched down the lane behind Callie, much to Rowan’s evident surprise.

“Surely you have better things to do than let my daughter drag you around for your entire vacation,” he said quietly once she reached him.

Aelin shrugged. “My friend and my cousin are probably getting it on in the kitchen. I had to get away.”

“Fair enough.” He grimaced. “I can’t say I’d want to stay for that either.”

And as they watched, Callie determinedly dragged handful after handful of snow to her little mound. “She… does know about rolling a snowball around to make it bigger, right?” Aelin asked.

“Shh. If she does it this way she might actually take her nap today.” Rowan was fighting a grin as he said it. “And if she actually naps, I might be able to finish wrapping presents.”

“Ah.” Not to mention, it was kind of adorable to watch her struggle so much.

Finally, the mound had reached a height Callie seemed to deem acceptable, and she had sculpted it into three rough sections. She darted back to the front porch where a handful of supplies were waiting, tossing a scarf around the snowman’s neck before crying in dismay as the carrot nose flew across the yard and into a deep snowbank.

Aelin took a deep breath and looked at Rowan, expression solemn. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” she said.

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Dive headfirst into a snowbank, of course.” She was doing her best to keep a straight face, but she suspected she was failing miserably by this point.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said immediately, pine-green eyes wary. “In fact, you have a choice available to you that is specifically not doing that.”

“Nope,” she declared. “It’s too late. I’m doing it.”

There was still a small hole where the carrot had entered the snow. If she moved quickly enough this would be easy. “Stay back,” she warned daughter and father alike as she took a few steps back to give herself a running start.

Then she launched herself into the snow with a shout.

~*~*~

Aelin shrieked with laughter as she tumbled off of the sled and into a deep snowbank, giggling as she heard a concerned shout from the top of the hill. Trust Rowan to be a complete worrywart. She was fine; she was better than fine, even. She was high on the thrill of the sled ride and the snow and this time spent with him. In moments like these, she was positive that nothing could bring her down.

A hand dug into the snow beside her, clearly trying to help her up, but instead she took it and tugged Rowan down into the snow beside her, laughing even harder. “Gods, Rowan, your face!”

“Why do you have to be like this?” he demanded. “You terrified me, you know that? I was so afraid that you’d hit your head and I’d have to explain this to your uncle. Or worse, explain it to my aunt.”

“I’m fine!” she assured him.

He ran his hands over her head anyway, clearly checking for any kind of head injury, and she couldn’t hide the shiver from the feel of his hands on her. “Gods, Aelin, you’re freezing! We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, though even to her own ears the words sounded less certain. Maybe she’d hit her head after all, and this was an elaborate fantasy her dizzy and delirious mind had concocted. Or maybe he was going to keep touching her and she’d combust on the spot.

“Come on, Aelin, please,” he pleaded. Gods, he had to know she would do anything for him if he asked her like that. He had to know, and was obviously using it against her right now. There was no other explanation, unless this was all some kind of crazy dream.

She had to try. She had to know.

She reached out a trembling hand toward his face, half-buried in the snow beside her own. Would he let her do this if it wasn’t a dream? What if he did let her touch him? What would happen next?

But it turned out that he didn’t let her after all, instead taking advantage of her outstretched hand to tug her free of the pile of snow. She swayed, dizzy from the sudden change from lying in the snow to standing on her feet, and stumbled into him.

He brushed the remaining snow off her shoulders, glancing at her hair before obviously deciding that was a lost cause. “I think your hat’s still in the snow,” he said quietly. “How mad’s your uncle going to be if you lose it?”

“I can get it,” she protested, but he reached into the snow instead, letting out a soft noise of triumph when he found it. Carefully, he brushed the loose snow off of it and tugged it back onto her head.

“There,” he said. “Good as new, like nothing even happened.”

As they walked back to Uncle Gavriel’s house, those words echoed in her mind over and over. Nothing even happened. Nothing even happened. Nothing even happened.

~*~*~

Aelin jerked herself out of the memory and held the carrot aloft with a triumphant shout. “Got it!”

When she emerged from the snow, it was to the gleeful cheering of a four-year-old and a bemused smile from said four-year-old’s father. “Thanks, Miss A!” Callie shouted, bounding over to take the carrot back from her.

“Miss A?” she asked quietly as Rowan made his way over to them.

Rowan shrugged. “I didn’t tell her to call you that. That was all her.”

“Well, she’s certainly more polite than you ever were,” Aelin teased, watching as Callie carefully centered the carrot in the top part of her snow mound and pressed it in.

“Very funny,” he grumbled. “How long are you staying? I just realized I never asked.”

“I’m leaving the day after Yulemas.” Gods, but it felt awkward to say, throwing in his face that soon she would be walking right back out of their lives forever.

Rowan nodded. “Listen, usually on the night before I send Callie over to Aedion’s to spend the night, so I can finish setting everything up. Then we all come back to mine for Yulemas morning. I know you’re both staying in his spare bedrooms right now, but…”

“Yes?” She leaned closer as his voice got quieter.

“If you wanted to spend one night in my guest room instead, it would keep her routine uninterrupted. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” she said. “It’s just one night, right? And that little girl needs the best Yulemas ever.”

Rowan chuckled, clearly relieved. “That’s a pretty high bar. She wore herself out inside an hour last year.”

“I’m sure we can manage it. Have you decorated yet? I can help—”

He cut her off with a gloved hand over her mouth, mirth shining bright in his eyes. “I’ve already decorated, yes, but I’m positive it’s not yet to your satisfaction. If you want to do more while you’re over, I won’t stop you.”

Heat slammed into Aelin’s face at his words, and she fought to keep the blush off of her face. She supposed she could just blame the cold if she failed, though. As she pulled his hand away from her face, she forced a smile. “It’s settled, then. I’ll go into town today and make sure I’ve got everything I need.” Gods, what was she doing? She needed to take it back, needed to apologize and say she couldn’t do it after all, not dig herself deeper into the hole.

“Thank you,” he said, and she was lost just as readily as she had been as a teenager. Fuck, but she was in trouble.

“Speaking of, actually, I should probably get going.” She glanced back at Aedion’s house. “They’re probably still going at it, and I haven’t eaten. I figured I’d stop by that little café on the corner of Main Street.”

“We can go with you, if you want,” he offered, but she was already shaking her head.

“I appreciate it,” she said, and she meant it. “But she should be able to finish her work here, and if I go alone I can find a few surprises to decorate with.”

He nodded, and she left as quickly as was polite. Once she had turned the corner at the other end of the lane, she pulled her phone out and sent a message to Lysandra.

SOS. Let me know when you’re done banging my cousin, I need girl talk.

She had just reached the little café and seated herself at a small table when her phone buzzed with Lysandra’s reply.

OMG I’m so sorry I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.

Aelin smiled despite herself. I’ll forgive you if you help me now.

This wouldn’t have anything to do with that cute guy we ran into our first day, would it?

LYS. But yes.

What’s stopping you? We’re here for a week and a half, you might as well enjoy it. Was that… Yes, that was an emoji waggling its eyebrows. What the hell, Lysandra.

He has a child, Lys. That complicates it, doesn’t it?

Not if you don’t want it to. I’m not saying you need to elope with the guy, just jump him and get it over with.

You mean like you did?

Harsh. But seriously, it’s Yulemas. Maybe it’ll all work out.

Lysandra, this is not one of your silly Yulemas movies where a girl goes back to her hometown and some muscled guy in plaid teaches her the meaning of the season with his magical healing dick.

Why not? I don’t see anything stopping you but you.

Aelin sighed, giving up on the conversation for a moment as she ordered eggs and coffee. Before long, though, she was back on her phone.

One more thing. What the hell do four year olds like for Yulemas?

Girl you are GONE on this guy, aren’t you? Where are you? I’ll meet you and we can shop together.

That was probably the least painful way this could go, though she was sure to be embarrassed beyond belief by the end of the day. Gods, and she would have to explain their entire history to her friend.

She hadn’t talked about Rowan when she went off to college. She’d left him behind the same as she had everyone else in Orynth. It had felt like the only way to move on, as much as it had hurt at the time and as awkward as it would be now to come clean.

That conversation was likely to happen anyway at this point, but she could at least make sure it was near neither Rowan nor Aedion. Mind made up, she texted Lysandra back with the address of the café and let the waitress know she would have a friend joining her.

As she waited, stirring sugar into her coffee cup, Aelin allowed her mind to wander as it had been so wont to do from the moment they set foot in Orynth.

~*~*~

“You’re never going to believe what happened today,” Rowan said as they began their walk home from school, winding their scarves tight against the early spring chill.

“Aedion finally asked out that boy in your English class,” she guessed.

“What? No. At least, I don’t think he did.”

“That’s a bummer,” she replied. “That means I’ll have to keep hearing Aedion talk about whether or not to do it. Um, Elide finally lost it on that guy in homeroom?” That was a longer shot by far; Elide was one of the sweetest girls Aelin knew, with the patience of a saint.

Rowan snorted. “He’d have it coming if she did. But no.”

Aelin frowned, brows furrowing in thought. “I guess I’m stuck,” she said as they turned a corner. “Fine, I give up. What is it?”

He smiled. “Okay, so we got assigned this group project in history class. You know, the usual thing, pick a topic from the list and do a presentation about it.”

“Okay, but that’s not exactly newsworthy. You guys get projects all the time,” she pointed out, bending down to pick a crocus from the side of the road. She probably shouldn’t be plucking flowers from the community gardens, but she just couldn’t stop herself from picking the first of the crocuses she saw in the spring. The flower itself was nothing special; she far preferred the kingsflame that bloomed later in the season. But it symbolized the turning of the seasons, and for that alone she appreciated it.

Sure enough, when she looked back at Rowan he was frowning. “Are you sure you’re allowed to do that?”

“No. So what happened with this project?” she asked, wanting his attention on the story and not on her tendency toward petty misdemeanors related to flowers.

His ears turned pink, and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Gods, she had thought they were past this. She had just begun to hope, to think she might possibly have the slightest chance with him. Now it looked like all of those hopes were about to be dashed.

Sure enough, his next words confirmed her worst fears. “It’s in partners, and Lyria got assigned as my partner. We’re going to be meeting about it after school tomorrow.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s good, right?” It wasn’t good, not at all, but Aelin had just been forcibly reminded of her place in his life. She was his friend, and friends encouraged each other, right? She could do this, even if it killed her.

“That’s very good. I know it’s just about the project, but maybe she’ll like me, you know?” He bit his lip, and judging from the color it was far from the first time that afternoon he’d done so.

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Aelin said honestly. “I mean, you’re… you’re you,” she finished, knowing as she said it just how lame the words sounded.

It seemed to be encouraging enough for Rowan, though, because he smiled at her. “Thanks, Aelin. You’re a good friend.”

And just like that, Aelin’s already-delicate heart shattered.

~*~*~

The rest of the week passed by in a snowy blur, and soon it was the night before Yulemas. She had just vacated the guest room she’d been staying in to allow for Callie to go through her Yulemas tradition of staying with Aedion, and her heart felt like it had lodged in her throat as she knocked on Rowan’s door.

Her breath caught right alongside her heart when he opened the door, wearing a shirt that looked almost impossibly soft with sleeves short enough to reveal the swirling marks of a dark tattoo along his left arm. “Um,” Aelin began. “Aedion’s getting Callie to wind down now. When did you get that?” With the hand that wasn’t holding her bags of decorations and of clothing, she gestured at the marks.

He let her in and closed the door behind her before answering. “After Lyria died,” he said quietly. “It’s in the Old Language of Wendlyn, and it tells both her story and my shame.”

“Shame?” Gods, Aelin shouldn’t be asking this of him. Their newly-rekindled friendship was on shaky enough ground as it was.

Rowan answered anyway. “After we married, but before we had Callie… we weren’t in a good place. I’d joined the military, which I know you know about, and she hated that I could be away for months at a time. We… fought. A lot. So I stayed away longer and longer, only coming back for short leaves here and there. Then we learned we were having a child, and… I couldn’t be there for the birth. She left then, but six months later she was involved in a car accident. I was due to re-enlist then, but I retired instead and took charge of Callie. We moved here not long after.”

“Gods, I’m so sorry,” Aelin replied. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“What about you?” he asked. “What have you been up to in Rifthold?”

This was it. This was what she hadn’t talked about with anyone here, with the exception of Lysandra. She sighed. “Honestly, right now I kind of hate it,” she said, hoping he would leave it at that.

Of course, for once he decided to press further. “What’s so bad about it?”

Just like that, the words began pouring out of her as though they were back in school and she was once more spilling her problems to her closest friend. “I hate my job,” she confessed. “I thought it would be fun and exciting, but… not to mention, my last boyfriend was also a coworker, and so is his new girlfriend, so I have to see them every godsdamned day and pretend like they just moved quickly when they moved in two weeks after he left me. But… I can’t just leave. That would be letting them all win.”

“And we all know how Aelin Galathynius feels about letting other people win.” Where once those words would’ve sounded angry, Rowan must have learned to better hide his feelings. Now the sentence was carefully devoid of emotion, letting her judge the words at face value rather than responding defensively to his tone.

“Maybe Aelin doesn’t know anymore,” she admitted. “But I didn’t come here to talk about all of this, I came here to help you decorate.”

He finally let it drop then, and she walked into their living area.

There was certainly room to place other decorations along the mantle and the stairs, but the Yulemas tree was absolutely stunning. Strings of soft white lights made the branches glow and the ornaments glimmer in shades of the traditional red and gold. On the lower branches, Callie must have helped to decorate, for the placement was haphazard and the ornaments were less fragile and more child-approved.

Rowan chuckled behind her, and she belatedly realized she was just staring at the tree like an idiot who wanted a life she couldn’t have. “The tree is perfect,” she finally managed.

“Really? Because I thought you were going to say the tree looks like it was decorated by a four-year-old and her helpless father. Which is true,” he said with a smile. “But it’s been working for us.”

“It’s perfect,” she declared. “I bet Callie loved helping.”

“That she did,” he laughed. “So, what did you bring with you?”

She grinned, tugging out strands of faerie lights and red ribbons and garlands made to look like pine. “I wondered for maybe five minutes if you’d have a mantle to put all this on, but this is Orynth. If you don’t have a fireplace, winter is suffering.”

“Some of us like the cold,” he replied.

“And some of us are wrong,” she retorted. “Now help me get the lights on this garland.”

About an hour later, more soft white lights were gleaming from the mantle and wrapped around the handrail of the staircase. They had placed a garland over the mantle, and more sprigs of pine and holly were scattered around the room in little wreaths and sprays. “There,” she said as she flopped on the couch. “Now it’s perfect.”

“It is.” He sat beside her, and she turned to see his eyes on her, pine green glimmering in the soft faerie lights.

Aelin glanced away and swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump that had suddenly caught in her throat. Gods, Teenaged Aelin had dreamed and pined for a moment like this, and now that it was within her reach she wasn’t sure what to do with it. It had been so long, so many years and so much distance standing between them, and yet some soft lighting and a softer look in his eyes had her melting as though no time at all had passed.

It had been over ten years since the moment Aelin had come to the decision to let Rowan go, but now she found herself wondering once more what it would be like to finally close the gap between them and let herself have what she’d always wanted.

~*~*~

“Where are you going to go?” Aelin asked from her perch on Rowan’s bed as he packed.

“After graduation, you mean?” He neatly folded some more shirts into a box. “I’m going back to Wendlyn. I can’t stay here forever, you know.”

“Oh.” Maybe she could figure out a way to get to Wendlyn too. He was graduating soon and would be leaving soon thereafter, but she only had two more years of school left herself. Maybe she could look at universities in Wendlyn, see if she could—

“I’m going to ask Lyria to come with me,” he said, and just like that the fragile dream shattered.

It had been so easy, in the two years they had been dating now, to pretend as though nothing had changed between Rowan and his cheerleader girlfriend. Rowan was always so careful to still make time for Aelin, even though it was less time than before, and the couple seemed to avoid public displays of affection for the most part. But Rowan was still in love with a girl who wasn’t Aelin, and no amount of pretending on her part would stop this from happening. There would be no Rowan-and-Aelin, taking on Wendlyn by storm. There would just be Aelin, left behind and left all alone forever as a pretty brunette with warm brown eyes took everything she had ever wanted for herself.

“Do you think she’ll go?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as tight as her throat felt.

“I hope so,” he sighed. “I know it’s a lot to ask, I won’t exactly be around for the first six months or so.”

“What? Why not?”

He turned to face her, pine-green eyes as serious as she had ever seen them. “I’m enlisting in Wendlyn’s military.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right? If that’s what you want to do, I mean.”

“It is.” And it would be a good fit for him, too, this quiet and serious boy before her. “Lyria isn’t sure she likes it, but she said I should go for it if it’s what I really want.”

“She’s right, you know. You should. I mean, it’s your entire future, right? You’d just regret it if you let someone talk you out of it.”

He nodded slowly. “And I’m sure she’ll understand. It’s an adjustment right now, but after training we’ll be able to stay together if we’re married. I’ve been asking around.”

Gods. Not only was he asking her to move to be with him, he was thinking of proposing to Lyria. “That’s a big step, isn’t it?” she managed to say around the tightening in her throat.

“It is. I’m still thinking about it. But…” his voice trailed off as he picked up one of the pictures of her that decorated his desk.

But he was going to do it. He was going to marry his high school sweetheart. Aelin was sure she would say yes.

And now it was time for Aelin to let go of anything she’d hoped and dreamed would come to pass.

~*~*~

Aelin laid on top of Rowan beside the Yulemas tree, his fingers skimming over the bare skin over her spine, and wondered how on earth she’d gotten to be so lucky.

She didn’t know if it was the look in his eyes or the play of soft white light over his face, but she’d found herself leaning in toward him. Unbeknownst to her, he had been doing the same thing, and before she’d been able to stop and think their lips had met.

It had been absolute heaven. Rowan had kissed her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, soft and tender and dizzying, and before long she had thrown herself at him and slid her hands under that shirt that had turned out to be exactly as soft as it had looked. He had been surprised for a moment, but soon enough he had responded in kind and then they were on the floor beside the tree, her shirt tossed across the room somewhere and his own underneath her.

Aelin could have cried in bliss, the moment he’d pressed himself inside of her. The weight and size of him had been perfection beyond words, and all too soon she had been shuddering into a peak of sensation beneath him despite wishing the moment could have lasted forever.

His own peak had rushed along behind hers, but rather than get up he had simply rolled them so he was supporting her weight as they pressed together. Now he was tracing random patterns along bare skin, looking up at her as though he was seeing something he’d never imagined before. She supposed perhaps he was.

She languidly stretched above him, humming as the motion reawakened the pleasant ache between her thighs. He smiled in reply, his free hand finding its way into her hair, and she happily snuggled into his chest once more, reveling in the sensation.

She wasn’t sure how long they spent like that, cuddled together beside the tree, before her own voice broke the comfortable silence. “I got both of you Yulemas presents,” she revealed with a kiss to his shoulder that sent a thrill through her.

He blinked, rising up onto his elbows, and she rolled to the side to allow him to sit up. “You did?”

She nodded, and from the heat in her face she could tell she was blushing. “I did. I hope you like them, I’ve never really had to shop for a kid before—”

“No.”

Aelin froze where she sat. “What?”

When she looked over at him, his expression was hard, eyes that had been so warm just moments before like ice. “You heard me. No.”

“I don’t understand,” she confessed. What had she done wrong? They had been so happy just moments before.

“You can come back here and play pretend for a little while before you go right back to Rifthold and leave this all behind forever if you want,” he replied. “I certainly can’t stop you. You can even bring me into it. I obviously didn’t mind. But you do not get to play this little game with Callie.”

Gods, he was so angry, his words practically a growl. “I didn’t—”

“Think of it as a game?” He was up now, gathering the clothes they’d discarded and tossing her own shirt back at her. “Of course not. Why would you? It’s not your life you’re playing with. And it’s like I said, if it was just mine I wouldn’t even care. But that little girl has had enough loss. I’m not letting you walk into her life like this and then walk right back out and make her wonder what she’d done wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she slipped back into her shirt. Gods, what had she been thinking? He had every right to be upset, and she was misreading things like always. “I’ll just, um…”

She gestured at the guest room he’d had her set her bags in earlier, and he nodded shortly. She took a deep breath and tried one more time. “Um, good night, I guess.”

“Good night.” Gods, he wasn’t even looking at her anymore. She’d absolutely ruined everything, and now she’d have to live with that.

Quietly, she slipped away, up the stairs they’d decorated earlier and into the darkened room. It must have been a cloudy night, for there was no starlight glimmering off of the snow in the yard.

Not bothering with turning on a light, she dug in her bag for the package that had been meant for Callie and pulled the wrapping paper off of it with trembling fingers. The colored pencils tumbled to the floor, the packaging thankfully staying intact, but she was able to keep a hold of the coloring book full of pages of lively flowers. She bit her lip, tracing along the edge of a kingsflame blossom on the cover with her fingertips.

For a fleeting moment she considered tearing the book apart, or throwing it away. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, though, knowing it would only bring her further grief. Instead, she tucked the book and the pencils alike into one of the empty drawers. Rowan would find it later, and maybe he could give it to his daughter and pretend he’d gotten it for her.

Maybe he’d just throw it out when he found it. But there was a chance his temper would’ve calmed enough by the time he actually saw the book that he would pass it along, even if the little girl never learned the true identity of the gift-giver.

It was for the best, she knew. Callie certainly deserved better than someone who came whenever she pleased and left whenever she felt she had to, regardless of how a child would feel about it. That didn’t stop her from quietly sobbing as her head hit the pillow.

~*~*~

The setting was familiar, Aelin sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter in his aunt’s house, even though the reason they were both back here was one she had never expected. His aunt had passed quietly in the night two months before, and now she was seeing him again for the first time in two years as he cleaned up the house to either sell it or rent it out.

Those two years had treated him well, filling out the muscles of his chest and back and shoulders. He was a man now, twenty years of age to her eighteen, and he certainly looked like one too. It was so hard seeing him like this, when she knew that there was someone else waiting for him back home in Wendlyn. But he’d asked for her presence and her assistance, and she knew she would regret it forever if she’d turned him away when he’d needed her.

They had spent nearly an hour in awkward silence, boxing up Maeve’s china and silverware, before Aelin blurted out, “I’m leaving.”

He turned to look at her, though he didn’t speak, and where once she could’ve told what he was thinking just by looking into those eyes, she found he was now a mystery to her.

She rushed to clarify. “Not right now. After I graduate, I mean. Like you did.”

He just returned his focus to the kitchen cabinets, sorting and organizing the many pots and pans his aunt had gathered over the years.

The sound of soft metallic clanging was the only one to reach her ears for a while. Gods, was he truly not even talking to her? He’d barely spoken since he’d arrived in Orynth, but she’d written that off as him feeling uncomfortable with what he was there to do and not anything to do with her personally. Now, though, it was harder to think that his lack of reaction was unrelated to who he was speaking with. Had they truly grown so far apart?

Perhaps they had. Though he wore no ring on his hand, she realized that she didn’t know if he’d actually proposed to Lyria like he’d been talking about those two years previous. When had they even spoken last, before he’d called her to help with this? She was struggling to remember.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to agree to help. But it wasn’t a decision she could just take back now. He needed her.

That didn’t mean his utter lack of response sat well with her, however. She crouched beside him, pulling more pans out of the cabinet, and continued on. “I’m going to Rifthold. There’s a good college there, lots of job opportunities—”

When he cut her off, his voice was cold. “Do what you want, Aelin. I don’t care.”

This time, as she stumbled out of his aunt’s house fighting off tears once more, she knew she wouldn’t speak to him again. He’d moved on and was living his life without his friend. It was beyond time for her to do the same. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and finally deleted his number before letting the tears fall.

~*~*~

Yulemas day passed in a subdued blur for Aelin, and soon she and Lysandra were boarding their train back to Rifthold. Aedion had accompanied them to the station this time, and Aelin stood awkwardly to one side as they exchanged numbers and shy promises to visit whenever they could.

Aelin was happy for them. Really, she was. Someone should have a happy Yulemas season.

Once they were on board and the train had departed, Lysandra tried to get her to talk about Rowan’s conspicuous absence from their departure, but she found she didn’t quite know what to say. She asked something about her and Aedion instead, though she couldn’t remember what, and Lysandra happily chattered along as Aelin watched the snowy woods pass by the window.

Returning to her shoebox of an apartment after having spent so long in Orynth served as a rude awakening for Aelin, and she sighed as she hauled her bag onto the bed so she could unpack. It took twice as long when she was struggling to hold back tears, but she still managed, and even managed a few hours of fitful sleep before dragging herself back to work the next day.

Lysandra had been smart when she’d requested her leave. She’d allowed a day of rest after arriving home, whereas Aelin had thought she would be glad for the return to routine. As she passed through the doors of Havilliard Enterprises, though, swiping her badge along the way for entry into the building, she fought a sudden rise of bile in her throat. This was what she had left it all behind for? Another day, another handful of dollars clutched in her fist at the exchange of her soul, the art she had studied being used to manipulate people into buying whatever stupid shit they were selling today?

It wasn’t too late to call in sick. She could just back out of the doors, call her boss, explain that she’d thought she could make it in but she was just too unwell to work. It would really be for the best; she obviously needed more time to get over everything that had happened in a short week and a half.

She had just turned to leave the building when she saw a sight that made her freeze.

That was Chaol outside the doors, but it wasn’t Nesryn he was kissing. She didn’t know who this woman was, though she worked at the hospital nearby if the scrub pants peeking out from her jacket were anything to go by. The woman smiled up at him, positively glowing with joy from the season—or, no, from something else entirely, Aelin realized as the woman’s hand strayed to her own abdomen. Gods, had he already…?

He evidently had, as his hand slid to cover hers with an answering smile. How long had they even been seeing each other? She’d thought he was still with Nesryn before she’d left for her little vacation; had he been seeing this woman on the side like she was sure he’d been seeing Nesryn while he was still nominally with Aelin?

Something broke in her then, and she realized with a laugh that it was the last chain holding her back. Why should she care what he did? Why should she care about anything that happened in this stupid city, when she had just realized her entire world lay elsewhere?

Turning on her heel, she marched past her own desk and right into her boss’ office. Dorian Havilliard, heir to the company but currently still her immediate supervisor, blinked up at her. “I don’t think we had a meeting until next week,” he said, eyes bleary with what someone else would think was sleep but she knew was most likely whatever crazed Yulemas party he’d attended.

“We don’t, but I’m here to tell you I won’t be at that meeting.” Gods, her heart was fluttering in her chest, but her mind and gut were both in agreement despite her nerves. She was finally doing the right thing for once in her godsdamned life.

He leaned forward, hands braced on the desk in front of him. “Aelin, as your boss I am telling you to get to the point. As your friend, I am telling you that I am too godsdamned hungover to draw this out and begging you to get to the point.”

She smiled. “I quit, Dorian. I’m leaving.”

He blinked, and then laughed. “If I’m being honest with you, I’m surprised every day you keep showing up. You leaving is the most Aelin decision I’ve seen you make in years.”

“You’re not… upset?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “Now get out of here, you know we never let anyone actually work out their time after their notice and I know your projects are all wrapped up anyway. Clean out your desk and go home.”

Grinning, she turned and walked back to her desk, taking the few things she had ever left there to begin with and leaving forever. On her way out, she tugged her phone out of her pocket and texted Lysandra the news before dialing a different number and pacing nervously as the dial tone began to ring.

The recipient of the call didn’t pick up, but she hadn’t exactly expected him to. Instead, she drove home and began throwing her clothes into suitcases while waiting for him to call back.

It didn’t take long before all of her belongings were packed away; most of what she had was clothing, as well as a few kitchen implements for the oven she admittedly never used. Any food in the refrigerator was neatly bagged so Lysandra could use her spare key and pick it up; she didn’t want it to go to waste, after all. She also left the wine, knowing that her friend would likely demand it in exchange for what she was asking of her.

Finally her phone rang, and she glanced briefly at the caller’s name before picking up with a smile. “Hey, I need a favor,” she said.

~*~*~

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Aedion asked as they loaded the last of her boxes into her car. Soon she would be driving her way down to Rifthold and beginning her first days as a university student, and she couldn’t be more excited. Aedion, on the other hand, was much more hesitant about the situation.

It made sense, in a way. He’d stuck around after he graduated, leaping right into the fire academy like his father before him. He’d never had any desire to leave Orynth, and she couldn’t blame him. It held precious few bad memories for him, after all.

Aelin, on the other hand, was tired of feeling weighed down by ghosts of what might’ve been. No, it was past time that she leave. “I’m ready,” she said. “And it’s not like you’ll never hear from me again. You could even visit.”

Her cousin smiled sadly, and she knew if she asked him to he’d follow her to Rifthold just to make sure she was happy. She couldn’t ask that of him, though. He loved his hometown, loved the people in it, and she had no right to take any of that away from him just because she was miserable here. “And you can visit here, you know that, right?”

She laughed. “I’ll be home on my breaks,” she replied, though already it felt strange to refer to Orynth as home when her whole future was about to unfold in another city. “They close the campus down over Yulemas and during the summer, and I’d have nowhere else to stay.”

“Then I guess I won’t take over your room and turn it into a game room just yet,” he teased.

She hugged him, then, dropping her last bag to the ground in order to get a better grip on her cousin and friend. “I’ll miss you,” she admitted. “You and Uncle Gavriel will probably be the only people I miss from here, you know that?”

He frowned, but by this point he knew better than to bring up the spectacular blowup and fizzling out that had been the end of her friendship with Rowan. “I know,” he finally replied. “It’s weird, I want you to make friends out there, and I know you will. But I don’t want you to make too many, because I want you to come home someday. Is that weird?”

She smiled sadly. “That’s not weird. We’re family, and this is the first time we’re going to be this far apart for this long.” It was quite a distance; Rifthold was two days of driving away. She’d be stopping by the border between Terrasen and Adarlan for the evening before getting the rest of the way to the city the next day.

He tugged at her braid rather than reply. “Okay. Get going, before one of us cries. If it’s you I’ll freak out, and if it’s me that’ll just be embarrassing.”

She laughed, tucking her last bag away before opening the driver’s side door. “Whatever, you big baby.”

“Text me when you get to your hotel tonight!” he called as he backed away from the car.

“Yes, mom!” she shouted, grinning when he doubled over in laughter. Then she was driving away, watching him wave until he faded from view.

~*~*~

Aelin’s heart leapt into her throat as she knocked on Rowan’s door just as it had the night before Yulemas. Gods, what if she was making a terrible mistake after all? What if he opened the door, only to slam it shut again in her face? Worse, what if he never opened it at all?

Arms wrapping around herself, she began to pace on his porch. This had been a terrible idea. She should’ve waited a bit longer, maybe run into him in a public place instead of barging into his home. That would’ve been a safer option. This was risky as hell, and yet deep down she knew it was her best chance. That thought did almost nothing to settle her nerves, though.

The door opened, and she looked back at it, blinking when she saw no one at all before glancing down and seeing it had been opened by Callie instead of Rowan. The little girl opened her mouth on a gleeful shout, but Aelin quickly dropped to her knees and hushed her. “It’s a surprise,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Callie whispered back, and Aelin was once again thrown into amusement at just how loud a four-year-old’s whisper could be. Before she could say anything, though, before she could ask the girl about her day or see if her dad was awake yet, tiny arms were thrown around her in a tight hug.

Fuck, but it would be so easy to love this child. If she was truly honest with herself, Rowan’s daughter had stolen away a piece of her heart the moment she’d first heard her try to say her name. Even more than what she may or may not feel for Rowan, this alone was the best confirmation she could get that she was making the right choice after all. “Aww, I’m so glad to see you again too,” she whispered, tucking a stray lock of dirty-blonde hair back into one of her ever-present braids. “Did your daddy do your hair today?” she grinned, already knowing the answer from the way the braids were falling apart. Rowan’s work was far neater.

“Nope!” Callie replied at full volume. “I did!”

Aelin winced, knowing the shout was sure to attract Rowan’s attention. “It’s pretty,” she said as she heard footsteps approach at a full run.

“What are you doing here, Aelin?” Rowan’s words were cold and angry, but when she looked up at him she realized that he wasn’t speaking from a place of wrath. No, Rowan was afraid. And she knew exactly why; he’d shouted it at her on that night before Yulemas, after all.

“You were right,” she said simply, watching the fight drain out of his shoulders. “What I was doing wasn’t fair to you, to her, or to me.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” he replied, but his face… she hadn’t seen this kind of hope cross his features in a long time, and never directed at her.

With a few murmured words down to the child still in her arms, she sent her back to Rowan before standing as Callie wrapped her arms around her father’s leg instead. “I quit my job,” she blurted out. “I quit my job, I broke the lease on my apartment, and I moved back in with Aedion.”

Rowan quietly ushered Callie into the living room, where she resumed happily coloring in a page of… gods, that was the coloring book she’d left behind for her. With his daughter’s attention otherwise occupied, he turned back to Aelin. “Why?” he said quietly.

She felt the corner of her lips turn up in a crooked smile. “I was wrong, when I left for Rifthold. My life wasn’t there, only my work. My life… it’s here. With my family… with you, if you’ll let me.”

Rowan was silent for a moment, clearly thinking over her answer, and she bit her lip. This was it. She’d said everything she could. Now everything depended on Rowan’s response. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and shook his head, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Gods, she was so nervous. Even if he allowed her back in, they would still have so much to resolve, but if he shut her back out now… well, she didn’t know what she’d do.

He finally laughed, tugging her into a crushing embrace and burying his face against her hair. “You never do anything by halves, do you?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer but a sob came out instead, shocking them both. As hot tears spilled down her cheeks, she fisted her hands in the material of his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why—”

He only pulled her close once more, urging her head to come to rest against his shoulder. “You’ve had a long week,” he said quietly. “We all have.”

Slowly her shoulders stopped shaking, and she finally looked up at him with a watery smile. “So…”

“We’ll have to go slow,” he cautioned. “I meant what I said about Callie having lost enough.”

Was he really saying…? She had to know. “But…” Her words trailed off. What could she even ask? He had to know he was holding her heart in his hands right now. He had to know that a single word from him was about to alter the course of her life forever.

Rather than respond verbally, Rowan leaned in and kissed her like he first had the night before Yulemas, soft and slow, almost tentative.

As much as she wanted to just melt into his embrace and forget time had any meaning, she knew that this alone wouldn’t fix things. And so she pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to get a good look at his face. “Does this mean we can try?”

He smiled. “This means we can try.”

Before she could kiss him again, the sound of tearing paper reached her ears, and they both turned as one to where they’d left Callie coloring. The child had torn a page out of her book, and now she was running back over to them with a wide grin. Breathlessly, she presented the page to Aelin, who accepted it with a smile and then began tearing up all over again when she saw it was a carefully-colored kingsflame blossom like the one that had been on the cover when she’d seen the book in the shop. “I made it for you!” Callie beamed up at her.

Aelin fell to her knees once more, and she felt Rowan do the same beside her before hugging them both to himself. “It’s perfect,” she told Callie earnestly.

And it was perfect. For once in her life, this was a perfect moment, and she was so looking forward to having more just like this.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @rabodocardan @courtofjurdan

#haven writes #rowaelin

[sadclearance]

summer

pairing: suwa hiroto x male!reader x naruse kakeru from orange

summary: summer is here again.

category: fluff(?), angst(?), hurt/comfort(?) idk i suck at categorizing

warning(s): implied/referenced suicide

word count: 2013

key:

there's a flashback, but the start and end of it is signified with "*"

s/t - skin tone

summer is a time of warm sunny fun. the sky is clear, the air is hot--there's nothing stopping the group of old high school friends from gathering.

"do you think y/n's almost here?" naho asks, seeing as everyone from the group has finished with their brunch meals.

"if he is, he better have eaten beforehand. no way i'm staying any longer. i wanna get to the beach already!" azusa throws her head back exasperatedly.

"i'm sure he's on his way," saku says, voice steady but mind not confident in his own answer.

"y/n just texted me," hiroto sighs, and everyone already knows what it's about. and nobody's surprised.

"let me guess," azusa leans her face against her palm, "he's got another paper."

"yup," hiroto nods, revealing the screen of his phone to his friends.

"this is summer! who has papers during the summer?" azusa frowns.

"y/n always has papers during summers," saku notes. "maybe he's just working really hard."

"do you guys even know what he's studying?" hiroto asks.

"if you don't know, none of us would," takako says.

"what?"

"haven't you noticed?" azusa's eyes go wide. "are you dense?"

hiroto pouts, "that's not nice."

"y/n hasn't talked to any of us since high school," saku says.

"what? that can't be true. you're exaggerating," hiroto shakes his head.

"nope. not one text. not one reaction," azusa puts her pointer fingers together to create an 'x'.

"do you guys think he's holding up okay?" naho asks with a quiet voice. "i barely even saw him in high school after..."

and they all know what the next words were supposed to be.

but summer is a time for warm sunny fun, not a dark topic like this.

"let's go to the beach," azusa jumps from her seat and grabs her bag.

"yeah"s are heard throughout the group, and they all get up and follow her lead.

and the day is just the way it's supposed to be. the sun is bright, the air is hot, and the splashes of water that they playfully send each other's ways are cold.

"oh, you're so gonna get it!" azusa yells after saku dumps a bucket of water on her.

"hey! be careful," naho scolds. "you're gonna knock down my castle."

"sorry, sorry," azusa sends her a wink before going back to chase after saku.

it's fun like this. it's fun being with his high school friends. so fun that it makes hiroto miss high school.

but missing high school came with reminiscing memories of high school. memories that weren't always so fun.

and now hiroto feels like he can't move his fingers. his eyes can't focus on anything, and his view of the beautiful blue water is blurry. he wants to clear his mind, but he's trapped.

his heady is foggy, yet the past moments whizzing around inside his brain is painfully apparent.

*he doesn't feel the cool breeze of the ocean anymore. he feels the warm air of the blazing fire that was lit in y/n's tiny backyard. probably a fire hazard, but who could think about that when his best friends were smiling so big?

a black-haired boy that usually wears such a painful expression is now laughing heartily alongside the owner of the small place, letting his arms rest around his waist.

and warm s/t hands are pulling hiroto towards them.

"c'mon! join the party!"

there's so much laughter and warmth, even on the cold winter night.

hiroto thinks that it's the best night of his life.

the same hands that pulled him closer are now pointing at both sides of his cheeks.

the brunette and the raven laugh more before they decide to say "fuck it" and give into a little peck on the cheek.

but right before lips meet cheeks, y/n pulls his face away, and the lips are pressed against each other.

a cheery beautiful laugh resounds throughout the cold air as grey and brown eyes stare into each other, wide with realization.

when they pull away, hiroto expects kakeru's face to twist in disgust, but it doesn't. there's a small smile playing on his lips instead.

"your loss, y/n. kakeru's lips are sweet," hiroto playfully sticks out his tongue.

"then i guess i should get a taste for myself," y/n grins like a goof.

this view is so pretty and hiroto would never trade it for anything.

but then suddenly, kakeru's feet are off the ground, and y/n's body crumbles because kakeru is--*

"what--" hiroto gasps when cold water soaks him from head to toe.

"you were off in your own little dream world," takako says, putting the bucket down on the coarse sand.

"stop thinking so hard. that's never been a strong point for you," saku jokes before getting splashed by azusa.

"finally got you!" azusa celebrates, prancing around the low water in glee.

"you're on, takako!" hiroto says with a new burst of energy. he doesn't want to bring down the mood.

"it wasn't a challenge, but if you really wanna lose..." takako grins.

he's tired by the end of the day. takako was right. he lost.

"meet up at five for the festival tomorrow?" hiroto asks before parting ways.

"yup!" azusa nods aggressively.

"keep that up and you're gonna break your neck," saku flicks her head with his pointer finger.

"yeah," takako laughs.

"should we text y/n about tomorrow's plans?" naho asks hesitantly.

"i'll let him know," hiroto says after no one responds.

"you will?" naho asks with hopeful eyes.

"how could i ever say no to you?" hiroto ruffles her hair, trying to make the air less tense.

"don't be late tomorrow!" azusa yells at the group before going her own way.

the walk back to his house is quiet. he doesn't want to be alone right now. his mind is too much to handle alone, and he just wants something to distract him from these memories forever.

before he knows it, his feet have carried him to the l/n family house's door. the house that had been empty since y/n left for college.

he wonders if y/n's even there. probably not, considering how y/n's working on the paper for his project.

but he still needs time to work up the courage to ring the doorbell.

the simple task of lifting his finger and pressing the button takes some time and way more effort than it should, but he eventually gets it done.

"you in?" hiroto asks after a while. he knows his voice is weak, and that even if y/n was home, he wouldn't have been able to hear, but he can't find it in himself to raise his voice. his energy is suddenly drained, and he feels like he can barely keep himself up straight.

he leans against the door for support. "please."

he feels like a drunk, but he hasn't had anything to drink. it's pathetic and sad and ugly. all sides of him that he doesn't want to show anyone.

but he desperately wants to see y/n.

so, he continues.

"please, y/n. open the door," hiroto weakly knocks against the door.

he doesn't know how long he's been there, but he knows he needs to pick himself up and get to his own place.

before he leaves, holding the naive hope that y/n's on the other side of the door, he says, "we're gonna go to the festival tomorrow at five... it'd be nice if you came. i'll wait for you by the park that ka--..." this part is hard. he has to harshly swallow down the lump in his throat. "that we used to hang out at."

he couldn't keep his promise.

he had been waiting since four, but it was half-past five. he couldn't keep his friends waiting any longer.

"come on, hiroto," naho says with a painfully feigned smile. "it's okay."

"yeah," azusa tries to help. "we'll just catch him next time."

"we have all week to see him," saku eventually just grabs hiroto's arm and pulls him with them.

"okay, okay," hiroto forces out a laugh. "i can walk on my own. let's get a snack."

naho's as pretty in that kimono as she was back in high school, but hiroto can't find it in himself to be interested. he realizes that the things that used to excite him don't mean anything to him anymore.

it makes him feel hollow inside. will he feel like this when--if he sees y/n?

the thought haunts him for the rest of their time walking together, looking at what the different stalls and booths had to offer.

he doesn't remember when, but at some point, the sky had turned dark. he's sure the fireworks will start any time now.

"let's find a nice spot!" azusa says excitedly.

"you guys go ahead," hiroto says, pulling away from the group. "i need to go to the bathroom."

"hurry back! or you're gonna miss it!" naho says with a certain desperation in her voice, and hiroto knows it's because she can't afford to lose another friend.

"don't worry," hiroto reassures with a little smile. "i'll be back."

he knows it's silly, but he wants to go back to the park. it's stupid and illogical to even hope for y/n to be there because hiroto's not even sure if y/n was in the house when he said those desperate words.

but hiroto can't help but yearn.

he makes it to the park, and he sees a figure sitting on a bench--their bench.

it could be a random stranger that just happened to coincidentally sit there, or it could--

"y/n..." hiroto says softly when he gets close enough to confirm the identity of this person.

"hiroto..." y/n greets back. he's in casual clothes, nothing like what people normally wear to a festival. it's clear that this wasn't a thought out idea.

he hesitantly takes a seat next to y/n, leaving more space than necessary between them.

"i didn't know you were in town," hiroto says because as much as he's been longing for this moment, he doesn't know how to continue.

"then why did you come last night?" y/n doesn't look up.

"i..." how's he supposed to answer a question that he himself doesn't know the answer to? "i was hopeful."

the silence between them is unbearable, and hiroto wishes that seeing his high school best friend wasn't this awkward. it used to be so easy to talk to each other. why was it like this now?

"do you come back often?" hiroto asks.

"no. i've been too busy with stuff at school."

"you can't lie to me."

"then why ask?" it comes out harsher than y/n meant it to. "sorry..."

hiroto waits it out this time, and it works.

"i... i come back every summer," y/n lifts his head, but not to face hiroto's. his gaze passes the brunette and goes straight for the skies above.

there's tears building up in his eyes, and he tries to blink them away as fast as he can, but hiroto's already seen them.

he tries to think of his next words very carefully, but saku was right. thinking really hasn't ever been his strong point.

so he instinctively grabs y/n's shaking hand with his own and pulls him into an embrace.

"hey, y/n..." hiroto steadies his voice. "you're still reliving that summer alone, over and over again, aren't you?"

the only response he gets is trembling arms around his waist.

"as long as we live, summer will continue to come around..." hiroto tightens his embrace and hopes that his words are the right ones. "but the same summer will never come again."

"i miss him, hiroto," y/n chokes on a sob.

"i know. i miss him, too," hiroto buries his face in y/n's shoulder.

"and i missed you," y/n cries.

"i missed you more," hiroto whispers. "i love you."

he wonders if y/n could hear him over the loud popping of the fireworks.

but more than that, he wonders if this summer, they can finally start anew, as kakeru would want summer to be a time of warm sunny fun.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

messy half-vent fic. idek if it makes sense. inspired from a manga that i forgot the name of but it was this younger guy who was chasing after an older guy, and the older guy had a deceased boyfriend that died in a car crash in the summer.

#hiroto suwa x male reader #kakeru naruse x male reader #kakeru naruse #hiroto suwa #takako chino #saku hagita #azusa murasaka #naho takamiya #orange anime #orange #orange takano ichigo #x male reader #male reader insert #mlm #anime x male reader

[hankwritten]

Keep in a Cool Dry Place

Demoman/Soldier, 3k

A couple of old, past their prime mercs live out their days, but at least they’re slowly breaking down together.

Oftentimes, Jane would go out onto the deck to find Tavish fixed in place, chin tilted skywards, soaking up the stars for all they were worth. He could be like that, sometimes for hours, eye glossy against the Milky Way as he stood so still he could make a statue proud.

“You’re up awful late,” he said to Jane, unmoving. Probably had realized Jane had been watching for a while now.

“Could say the same to you,” Jane said, pulling himself into a deck chair with a great cascade of air from his smoker’s lungs, the grunt of an old man he always thought was an exaggerated affectation until it started happening to him.

“I don’t get up at five in the morning,” Tavish reminded him.

“You could. Good for the health, Tavish.”

“I don’t think anything’s good for the health these days. Just bad, and slightly worse.” He drummed his fingers on the deck’s railing. “C’mere, look at this.”

“I can see the damn stars just fine from here,” Jane sniffed.

Tavish broke from his surveying to shoot a grin Jane’s way, features cut sharp in the porch light. “Come on you old fart, get over here.”

Jane grumbled, pushing out of the chair with more effort than he would have liked to admit. He made his way to Tavish, joining him at the railing, their shoulders brushing just briefly until Tavish swung an arm around Jane’s waist.

His voice took on a fading quality all of the sudden, as though far away winds were dragging him skyward. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

Jane watched him. In the past few years his good eye had grown white in the center, a fuzzy film growing out from the pupil that would one day take the whole cornea. It was irreversible, Tavish had explained, years of buildup from stromnium or strotenium or something like that, Jane could never remember. Tavish wasn’t surprised, had told Jane that he was shocked he’d still had the thing this long, but that didn’t mean there was no mourning within the man. It was just different than how most people would have gone about it.

“Sure is,” Jane said. “Real beautiful.”

“Aye. And you ‘n me, we’re not seeing the half of it. Those telescopes, the ones the size of whole buildings, all they have is a bunch of different magnifying glasses and yet when they put ‘em all together you can see whole galaxies that weren’t there before. Same sky, just some folks can see it, some folks can’t.”

“You can still see it,” Jane reminded him, a gentle bump to the shoulder.

“For now,” Tavish agreed. He turned, smiling with just the corner of his mouth, a testament that was gone before Jane could fully appreciate how much he loved the small, sad ways he chose to be happy. A hand came up to brush the side of Jane’s cheek. “I just keep thinking about how one of these days will be the last day I see you.”

Their foreheads came together. Jane’s hand rose to cover the one across his cheek, thumb rubbing the small band of gold on Tavish’s finger. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this; despite the decades, despite the promises made on cold desert nights, despite watching the grey hairs spring in Tavish’s beard and knowing the same was happening to him, it was still hard to fathom that someone had chosen to spend the rest of their life with him. Even though the years with Tavish came close to outnumbering the years without, that time in Jane’s life of infinite loneliness, of stubborn self sufficiency, made him question how he was ever lucky enough that someone had hung on their sense and decided he was worth it.

Jane pulled Tavish closer. “Yeah. Well. If you’re going to keep a last image of me in your head, I really wish it was back when I was still handsome.”

Tavish laughed, swaying them both slightly in the unusually still air. Normally winds rattled the badlands, stirring up loose sand and seething through plants too hardy to notice. It felt like, for once, the world had chosen to be kind this night, just for them.

“You get handsomer every day Jane,” Tavish said, and hidden behind the words were each day I love you more. “I just…miss.”

“Miss how things used to be?”

“More than that. I’ve got the ‘ole yearning, I suppose, the eater of men.” Tavish chewed his words, looking up at the sky again. “I miss places. I miss how everything used to feel, even if it wasn’t terribly good.”

“Not talking about going back to your home planet, are you?” Jane joked, jerking his thumb at the now witnessed stars.

“No,” Tavish snorted. “Not exactly. But I…” He trailed off.

Now it was Jane’s turn to bring his hands to the sides of Tavish’s face, his own ring warm from where he’d been cradling it inside his fist. “What is it, Tav? You can tell me.”

Tavish looked not at the stars nor the horizon, but the ground, kicking the wooden deck neither of them had ever gotten around to re-staining. “I feel…I feel the hills always calling out to me. Like there’s something in my bones that just wants to rest, to go back where it’s green, to where it isn’t so bloody dry. Every time we visit I think ‘is this the last time I’ll ever see it? The very last time? Am I going to be too old or too tired the next time around, and never feel like I’m home again?’”

Jane watched the worry lines in Tavish’s forehead. “You want to go back to Scotland.”

“I dunno. Just the more my eye goes the more I…I dunno.”

They hung in silence for a while longer, just breathing. Jane hadn’t felt the need to wear his helmet for a long time, not at home, not at this mansion that was their private oasis from the rest of the world. Were money made their problems—if not vanish—then kept far back beyond the fence where they never had to think about them unless they ventured beyond. Where, even with BLU’s protection no longer keeping the various chapters of local and federal law enforcement trying to wrangle some comeuppance out of the soldier for sins past, he still had a place of refuge.

“Let’s go,” Jane said.

Tavish looked away. “I don’t mean for a visit Jane, I mean…”

“I know,” Jane insisted. Tavish’s milky eye fixed him with disbelief. “You want to go home. I get it. We should go.”

Tavish stared at him, still uncomprehending. “Jane you know that would mean…”

“I know,” Jane repeated.

A warm, subtle smile filled Tavish’s face, and neither of them had to say any more. Tavish drew Jane in closer, and the two of them rocked in the wind that had just picked up again.

***

“Jane,” Tavish frowned as he examined the box Jane had dropped thunderously at the bottom of the stairs, “do you really need to bring all of these?”

“Hey, I’m not trying to make you get rid of your treasured possessions,” Jane pointed out, depositing a second box filled entirely with Guns & Haircuts net to the first.

“We’re not going to have space for these,” Tavish retorted. “It’s going to be a tiny little thing, remember? They don’t build mansions in Ullapool.”

Moving had left the New Mexico mansion barren and faded where pictures had hung on the wall since Tavish had first moved in. Now they were all gone, sold off as their attempts to downsize left only what was necessary and a few DeGroot family heirlooms.

It twisted something in Jane to see their home of three decades slowly dismantled into carpet scuffs and cardboard boxes. This had been his dwelling longer than any other, a turning point from when the Gravel Wars had folded in on themselves and left Jane with an odd freedom he had no idea if he was allowed to act on. Even before that, when Tavish’s mother had still been alive and the halls were filled with her vigor, this place was safe haven for Jane, where he’d come to meet with his forbidden friend and get wasted in his living room.

Now it was mostly empty. Ready for the last goodbyes.

“These are important,” Jane declared of the boxes.

“You haven’t read them in ages,” Tavish pointed out.

“So? They are valuable. Scout sold his whole Bonk! Boy collection for a fortune, and I’ve got twice as many as that little squirt does!” Jane cleared his throat suddenly. “Did.”

It was hard to remember sometimes. He thought his old teammates would want nothing to do with him after the end, but to his surprise they actually kept in contact better than when they’d actually worked together. Maybe owing to the fact he now had an actual address they could send letters to.

Neither Spy nor Sniper had ever actually retired, and over time the tepid, passably courteous correspondences with Sniper had stopped a few years after Spy disappeared entirely. Jane assumed something similar had happened to them both. Occupational hazard.

Engie had complications with his diabetes. The remaining team had shown up for the funeral, except for Pyro, who everyone politely wouldn’t mention, even when Jane asked.

The one person Jane hadn’t expected to outlive was Scout. Scout didn’t write, but he could talk anyone’s ear off, and when coming home from the second funeral in as many years it hit Jane hard that he’d never hear the kitchen phone ringing off its holder again, practically trembling as the other line was just dying to tell him about whatever exactly Scout was so wound up about today.

Tavish noticed Jane’s slipup, and kindly ignored it. Nearly ten years, and Jane still found himself forgetting. “That’s because they were comics,” Tavish explained. “They were collectors items. The only person collecting Guns & Haircuts is you.”

“And don’t I know it!”

Tavish sighed. “Are you even planning on selling them, or are you just going to do the same thing you’ve done with them here and leave them in a big box to gather dust?”

“Of course I’m going to leave them in a big box!” Jane huffed proudly. “What other purpose is there in life other than to gather material objects and then have them accumulate in piles in your living room? You do not see me complaining about the giant, wall mounted family crest, do you?”

Tavish rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed as an old argument became even older. “Ach, fine. I suppose we’ll fine the space.” When he opened his eye, he saw the third giant box Jane was hauling out for the movers. “Jane! We don’t need to be taking that.”

“Yes we do, sonny!” Jane said, slapping a hand on the trumpet of the old record player he hadn’t been able to properly fit in the box. “I do not trust those cassette tapes! The snakes that live in them always try to come out and strangle me!”

“We’ve got some CDs now-” Tavish tried.

“Even worse!” Jane declared. “Australian mind control devices!”

Tavish could see he wasn’t winning, which was just fine by Jane. The magazines were one thing, but the record player he wasn’t leaving without.

“Well,” Tavish said, looking around their house, stripped bare. “I suppose that’s everything.”

Jane couldn’t find a reason to object. He glanced around, looking for one last missing detail, one more reason to stall, but found none. Gently, he took Tavish’s hand and squeezed. “Everything we need.”

***

Scotland was even wetter than the last time they’d visited.

Mud, the most distantly remembered and ancient of substances, clung to Jane’s pant leg all the way up to the knee as they made their way down hundred-year old paths someone really should’ve figured out how to weather-proof by now. But, where Jane was grumbling, Tavish looked about as happy as a clam in water. (Or, Jane supposed was more fitting, a pig in mud.)

“Aha! Look, there it is,” Tavish said, tugging on Jane’s arm and pointing at the glimpse of water creeping around the bend. “Still there.”

“I don’t think they would have up and moved a whole lake while you were gone,” Jane mumbled, but Tavish didn’t seem to hear as he moved with surprising speed down the hill. It was times like this Jane actually envied the cane.

When he finally caught up, Tavish was breathing in the thick air, his chest rising and then collapsing with a satisfied sigh. “Used to play down here as lad. Sometimes there’s a beach, far as the eye can see.”

“Thought you were done with sand,” Jane said, stomping up next to him on damp boots.

Tavish just breamed broadly at him, drinking in the sweep of the land and the crash of the lake. Jane could remember the stories, ones from Tavish’s childhood much better than his own, told and retold so many times that he could flip open the memories like a scrapbook and find exactly where every place in Ullapool fit. An old pub, a crumbling church. The house where the DeGroots used to live, the field where Merasmus’s castle had once briefly towered. So vivid were they, they superimposed themselves over Jane’s (admittedly more insubstantial) memories until he felt he had lived here himself.

“…Gettin’ dark, Tav,” Jane pointed out.

Tavish frowned, and squinted at the horizon. “Aye, I suppose it is.”

“Think the movers are done?” Jane didn’t approve of hiring other people to life heavy things when lifting heavy things had once been one of Jane’s favorite pastimes, but Tavish convinced him that if he threw out his back again, it’d be a lot harder to get him to a doctor.

“Probably,” Tavish nodded. “Let’s go see.”

“Do you think they dropped my magazines?”

“I’m sure they’re fine, love.”

They made the long, much more slippery journey back to their new home. It overlooked Ullapool and the coast, but was nevertheless removed enough that Jane could revel in the privacy he had grown used to. Privacy was not on Tavish’s mind when they’d walked through town that first time, however, as he’d greeted nearly everyone who came their way. It had shocked Jane how many people knew him, or at least recognized the DeGroot name, and greeted Tavish as familiarly as they would have had he been gone for only a few weeks rather than years.

It was good, to see Tavish like this. Even now, as they climbed slowly back up the hill, Jane watched him out the corner of his eye, smiling at the look of serenity that hadn’t been on his husband’s face so naturally in years.

“Isn’t this cozy,” Tavish said lovingly as they crossed the threshold of their new home.

That it was. Jane had worried he had grown soft living in luxury, that his years of being rich and retied would make him forgot that he’d once loved his little apartment, had cherished the security its simplicity had given him. But now that he was back inside four walls, surrounded by the items that had come to mean things beyond their purpose, a swell of pleasant familiarity welled up in him. The curtains blocked out the last of the fading light through soft yellow. There was a fireplace (modern and gas powered) but one ready to fill the house with a warm glow.

Tavish made the motions to begin unpacking, but Jane’s pretense of rooting though the boxes had a different goal in mind. Preoccupied, Tavish didn’t turn around until Jane finally slipped the record into place.

Perking, Tavish looked over his shoulder to see Jane offering his hand as the music bubbled slowly to life. “Been a long time since we danced,” Jane said.

Tavish’s smile fit well in this homey, quiet room. He took Jane’s hand, and let Jane pull him up off his knees until they were chest to chest, resting his chin on Jane’s shoulder.

“Too long,” he agreed.

They began sway rhythmlessly to music in the middle of the tiny living room, caring little where they put their feet as long as it wasn’t one top of one another. Jane loved the record player, needed it more these days, as it was one of the only things that made the horrid, incessant ringing in his ears quiet for just a short while. Leaving the fan on at night might help him get to sleep, but the was no denying the scratching notes out of the player were a world more enjoyable.

It was piano piece, one he’d heard Tavish play now and again. There was no space for a grand piano here in this little cottage on the hill, but maybe they could get a smaller one, and Tavish could try teaching him again. Like he’d promised so long ago.

So many promises that’d slipped through the cracks, both to each other and themselves. Things they simply couldn’t do anymore. Ever since the scare with Jane’s lung cancer, they had tried to do better, had realized what they had built meant something and they couldn’t go piddling away with their complacent recklessness. Jane had quit smoking, Tavish had quit drinking as part of the deal.

But still, there were other things, other mistakes that had compounded over the years. Jane always kept thinking he should have been over it by now, that for how many gentle touches Tavish had placed against him, he should forget the violence those same hands had once brought him. The times they’d shoved a sword into Jane’s gut. The bombs from nowhere. The individual atrocities. It was duller now, the years had been good enough to do that, but if Tavish’s memories were anything like Jane’s, he understood why the ex-demoman sometimes woke screaming in the middle of the night, needing to be reminded—soothed, assured, sometimes begged—that the Jane beside him wasn’t the monster from his dreams.

That was the real tragedy of the War. Officially, all they had been paid to do was kill each other—the horrors they chose to inflict on one another had been their own doing, their own wills brought to fruition. RED had never asked Tavish to shove Jane’s shovel down its owner's throat, laughing vengefully all the while. Jane was sure he’d done equally as cruel things to Tavish during those hell times, but had trouble recalling exactly what. It’s much easier to remember the sins committed against you, than those you have unleashed yourself.

Those hands, those bloodstained, gentle, perfect hands, rubbed circles and Jane’s back, and he sighed. He’d listened to this record enough to know it was getting to the end of this side, but he found he didn’t want to move. He wanted to keep standing here, swaying with the man he loved in their home in the mountains, remembering that they had earned this.

“I cherish these moments we spend together,” he said resolutely into Tavish’s chest.

“Every one of them,” Tavish agreed.

Eventually they would lay down, rest their old bones in their new bed, but for now they held each other in the slowly encroaching night, the sound of rain playing its first patter on the roof.

#tf2 fanfiction #demosolly #boots n bombs

[an-svu-sideblog]

Women of SVU Week - Day 1

Priorities

Characters: Kat Tamin, her girlfriend, Fin Tutola, brief Olivia Benson

Warnings: language, almost smut but not quite

Dua Lipa blasted from the phone lying on the bathroom counter amongst scattered makeup brushes, eye shadow palettes and fake lashes. The bass sounded thinner than it should through the small speaker.

Kat leaned forward toward the mirror, her mouth forming a small “o” as applied her eyeliner, tapering it to a perfect wing. “Is Kristina bringing her new girlfriend?” she called.

“What?” a voice called back from the adjacent bedroom.

Kat finished her makeup and strode into the bedroom, leaving her phone near the sink. “I asked if Kristina was bringing her new girlfriend.” She approached the bed where her girlfriend was perched on the edge, currently pulling sheer tights up her calves. Kat reached into her purse and began shuffling around for her earrings.

“Which new girlfriend?” Jo asked derisively.

Kat paused, wrist deep in her purse. “Wait, another one? Isn’t she dating that nurse from Queens? The one she brought to the Halloween party?”

“Turns out the nurse was fucking an EMT so that didn’t end well. Now she’s dating a girl she met at that bar uptown. You would’ve met her at the New Years party if you had been there.” Jo’s statement had little vitriol in it, but it stung nonetheless. The frequency at which Kat was suddenly called into work was often a source of contention in their relationship.

Kat tried to ignore it. “Okay, what does this girlfriend do? She’s not another bad tattoo artist is she?” she asked, half-joking. “Kristina doesn’t need another Chinese character that says ‘water buffalo’ on her ankle.”

Jo laughed snidely. “No, this one is an Instagram influencer. Don’t let her start trying to sell you her miracle juice cleanse mixes. Kristina says her intestines haven’t been the same since.”

“Noted.” Kat replied with a wince. “I’m just glad she has someone. She’s so busy all the time; it’s good that she can make time for a girlfriend.”

Jo didn’t reply.

Earrings in place, Kat gave her tight dress one last adjustment and turned to face her girlfriend. She threw her hands out to the side, asking for Jo’s opinion. Jo smiled and lifted herself off the bed to close the distance between them. Kat, already in her heels, gazed down at her girlfriend, her hair hanging down to frame both their faces.

As they met, Jo ran her hands across the smooth fabric that was hugging Kat’s hips and pulled her body even closer.

“You look so good,” Jo said, her voice low. “You’ve been so busy lately. I’m glad I finally have you to myself for a night.”

“I’m all yours,” Kat matched her tone and leaned in for a kiss. Their hands roved over each others bodies as the kiss deepened. They pulled each other close; any space between them was too much.

Jo started pulling Kat toward the bed, craning her neck to ensure their lips never parted. “We’re going to be late,” Kat murmured into the kiss.

“So?” Jo retorted with a smirk. Their knees met the mattress, and Jo pushed Kat down to sit on the edge of the bed. She straddled Kat’s lap, her dress riding dangerously high around her thighs. Kat’s hands slid slowly up her girlfriend’s legs and hips, tracing the folds and seams of the dress now bunched around her waist.

Jo gently gyrated her hips to the still-blaring pop music from the other room. Kat moaned slightly into their kiss.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Jo said with a sharp sigh. The music had suddenly been interrupted and replaced by a harsh vibrating sound against the porcelain counter.

Kat paused, her eyes still closed as if she could ignore the ringing phone. The woman sitting on her lap was more determined to ignore the unwelcome distraction. Jo kissed her harder. Kat allowed herself to succumb for a moment before her rational brain won out.

“I have to get that,” she said ruefully.

Jo groaned and leaned back to give Kat a disappointed look. “You said you had off tonight.”

“I did have off, but if we catch a case I have to go.” Kat lightly patted her girlfriends thigh, a gentle request for her to vacate Kat’s lap. “C’mon, I have to see who it is.” Jo didn’t move. “Jo,” Kat added with a stern look.

She let up, and Kat rushed to her phone, her heels clicking on the tiled bathroom floor. It was, of course, her Sergeant. When she returned to the bedroom, her face said everything that Jo needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” Kat insisted, grabbing her bag off the bed. “I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

Kat was rushing too fast to see the utter defeat on her girlfriend’s face. Jo didn’t say anything as she watched her girlfriend disappear from the apartment.

***

The fluorescent lights of the precinct were a harsh contrast to the darkening sky outside. The squad room was mostly empty as she arrived. Only Fin and Benson had arrived so far, and Benson was busy in her office preparing to brief her squad.

Fin looked practically scrubby in his jeans and button-up compared to Kat’s elegant and very low-cut dress. She hadn’t had time to go home and change, and he didn’t waste the opportunity to comment.

“Which club is missing you tonight?” Fin asked with a sly smile on his face.

“None you’ve heard of,” she retorted.

Fin winced dramatically, “I’m not that old!”

Kat smirked. “When’s the last time you stayed out past 11pm?” His wounded silence was answer enough. She moved past him, still smirking at his defeat. “I have clothes in my locker; I’ll change before we start.”

Kat returned from the locker room, looking much more professional. She shed her party clothes and adopted her usual steely attitude, now ready for the job. The only tell that her night out had been abruptly interrupted was the heavy makeup that still adorned her brown eyes.

Benson briefed them on the situation. A brutal rape/homicide had culminated in the victim stumbling, bleeding, into a corner store. After being rushed to the hospital, she died in surgery. The victim was left with no wallet, no ID. There were no solid suspects.

With no leads on where the girl came from, Benson directed Fin and Kat to start at the corner store.

***

In the midst of an unhelpful interview with the store clerk, Kat felt her phone vibrate several times in her pocket.

After discovering no helpful leads, Fin thanked the clerk for their help and they moved to leave. He and Kat stepped back out into the cool night air, hypothesizing what to investigate next with such little info.

Kat ventured a glance at her phone and felt her heart jump into her throat as she read the notification.

from: Jo <3

9:21pm

[I’m sorry Kat, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t feel like a priority, it’]

The preview ended there, but Kat had seen enough. A surprising mixture of emotions cascaded over her. She felt disappointed, confused, and overwhelmingly indignant. A breakup by text? Seriously?!

Fin had gotten ahead of her on his way back to the car. He quickly realized she hadn’t kept up. “Tamin, you have an epiphany or something? Let’s go.”

She wordlessly closed the distance and joined him in the car. She worried her expression was giving away too much, but she couldn’t seem to collect her focus enough to erase the emotion on her face. Her heart may as well have been on her sleeve.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Kat started out the window, hoping her Sergeant wouldn’t pry.

“You good?” Fin asked after a long moment of silence.

She internally cursed the occupational hazard of having coworkers who were very insightful. “Fine,” she replied shortly.

“You’ll do your job better if you’re not distracted.”

Kat paused a moment to consider the veracity of his statement. He was right, annoyingly, and she knew he was also implying that talking about it was the remedy to the problem of distraction. Giving up on hiding her sour expression, she turned to him. “Well, I’ll have a lot more time to do my job. I won’t need time off for date nights anymore.”

“Did you just get broken up with by text?” he asked incredulously.

Kat lifted her phone and gave it a little shake to indicate that she had indeed.

“That’s cold. You’re too good for her,” Fin said adamantly.

She scoffed in response. She knew he meant well, but it sounded like the kind of compliment that a mother gives: genuine, if not cloying, and completely subjective.

“I’m serious. The job is hard, but you deserve someone who can handle it just like you do. I lucked out with Phoebe; she knows exactly what the job is like. Not everyone can get it.”

“I just don’t know if it’s worth it. Dating is so much time and effort. Meeting someone you’re actually interested in seems impossible, and then as soon as they realize the work schedule is insane and unpredictable they bail.” She let her eyes follow each street light as they drove through the city. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the job. I just don’t know anymore...”

“Once you find that someone, it is worth it.” Fin’s voice was softer than Kat was used to hearing it. The seasoned Sergeant with a killer quip ready for any perp was being uncharacteristically soft. “Even if you only get to see that person for a few minutes when you wake up or for a quick coffee at lunch, it’s worth it. For both of you. The right person will get it.”

Kat felt the anger in her ebbing away, leaving only the sadness in its place. “Thanks Sarge,” she told him sincerely.

“Now you owe me fifty bucks. Therapy’s not cheap.” He said this with an even, serious tone, but the shit-eating grin on his face said otherwise.

“Ha ha,” she replied sardonically. “Don’t quit your day job.” Her tone was dry, but she was thankful for his attempt to lighten her mood. It worked, if only for a moment.

The details of the surrounding city faded from her focus as Kat tried to push the breakup from her mind and refocus on the case at hand. She failed and instead, she found herself re-living every suddenly canceled date, every small argument, and every time a tough case had consumed Kat’s mind and prevented her from being fully present during what little time she had with her girlfriend.

They say hindsight is 20/20, but it felt like these memories were viewed through the wrong prescription lenses; whatever the opposite of rose-colored glasses are.

She unlocked her phone once more and swiped the notification away, willing her eyes not to read the letters as they scanned the preview once more.

She does deserve better.

#wsvu week #kat tamin #svu #law and order svu #fin tutuola #my fic

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

"Are you going to be okay?" + "Please stop lying to me" for either Rowaelin or someone from the Cadre (Rowan and Lorcan or Fenrys and Connal)

note: so like, since we need more Lorcan and Aelin brotp fics, I'm gonna do them for this one. hope you don't mind. if you'd like to check out my other fics, here's the masterlist.

---------------

Lorcan hated how much he was used to Terrasen now, hated how it felt like home more than Doranelle ever had. In the five centuries he had been alive, he had never imagined this is where he would end up. Bloodsworn to a queen of fire and ash, as wild as she was reckless. A queen who actually cared for her people and her court. A queen who no doubt hated his guts ever since that cursed day on the beach. He had nightmares about that gods damned day sometimes, of Aelin being bruised and battered. Aelin may have forgiven him but he couldn't forgive himself.

He had tried to avoid her as much as he could, didn't want to get close to the wicked queen and had done a good job at keeping away from her until today.

"You're sure there's no one else who can do this?" he asked, hesitant.

Emrys, the cook, quirked an eyebrow at that. The storykeeper had a bowl of steaming soup in his hand. "Prince Rowan isn't here and she's sick. Do you want to be the one to tell him why I let just some servant into close quarters with her when she was ill disposed?" The man had a point. The Fae part of him wanted to growl at the mere thought of letting anyone near her, not when she was probably passed out.

Lorcan sighed in resignation before he was making his way towards her private chambers, the bowl of soup in his hand. He knocked twice on the door of her private chambers and entered when a muffled voice replied, 'The door's open.' She had likely heard him arrive with her fae senses. He almost wished she hadn't let him in.

He didn't know what he expected but the fire breathing bitch queen hunched over papers, her quarters resembling a trash bin was not it.

She had her head propped up with one hand, another holding a piece of parchment that her eyes skimmed through. She half turned in her seat and gave him a wry smile when she spotted the bowl of soup in his hand. "First my bloodsworn warrior, now my personal servant? I'm impres—" the words were cut off by a sneeze, then another and another in quick succession.

She rose from her seat, then flicked a hand in dismissal. "Thank you. You can leave now." But then she was stumbling, eyes half shut and Lorcan barely caught her in time.

She righted herself soon, pulling away from him. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold outside, face uncharacteristically pale and turquoise eyes lacking their usual gleam of wickedness.

He frowned. "Are you going to be fine?" It was a stupid question. The woman was trying to work when she was so sick. She was anything but fine.

"Yeah, just a cold. You'd think after all the shit with Maeve and Erawan, I'd be immune to something as trivial as cold." Her humour failed to hit it's mark when a coughing fit seized her. She said, "You can leave. I'll be fine."

Lorcan didn't know what came over him, only that she was being an idiot and he needed her to rest if she was going to recover. "Stop lying to me! You aren't fine, you should rest." He pushed her back on the chair she had been sitting in, shoved the papers aside and slammed the bowl of soup in front of her. "Finish this."

"I don't—"

"Aelin, finish this now."

Short of using the blood oath to make him leave, there was nothing she could do that would make him leave. Lorcan doubted she'd use the oath and he wasn't leaving until he was sure she was fine, even if she did try to kill him a lot of times. For all he knew, she still did want to kill him.

Aelin grumbled but obeyed. "Damn you overprotective fae bastards."

While she ate, Lorcan drew the curtains shut to keep the cold air out, lit the fireplace when she didn't light it herself and tidied up the bed, making space for her to lay down between all the dresses sprawled on it. He could call in a servant to clean all that up but his fae instincts wouldn't let anyone within a hundred feet of her until he was sure his queen was safe and protected. Whatever reason Lorcan had for taking the blood oath, she was his queen now. It was his duty to protect her.

Aelin was back to working by the time he was done. "You're not working anymore, Aelin. Finish that tomorrow."

"I won't finish in time if I stop now."

"You will," he nudged her to rise. "If it's so important, I'll help you finish. For now, you need to go to bed."

She looked ready to protest and Lorcan was prepared to throw her over his shoulder, then chain her to her bed if that's what it took. Aelin must have known that because she surrendered and moved to lay down in her bed. Lorcan watched her closely should she stumble again. He didn't want to explain to Rowan why and how his wife fell face first onto the floor when the prince returned.

Aelin cocked her head at him when Lorcan moved to pull up the covers. "What, now you're tucking me in? Are you going to kiss my forehead, then sing me to sleep next, father?"

Insufferable, as always. "Can you please stop, Aelin?" he asked.

But of course, she couldn't stop. When had she ever stopped? "You didn't even call me bitch! Look at us bonding together! Elide bribed you into this, didn't she?" A pointed look at that. "You're going soft on me, Salvaterre."

He ignored the jibes, then turned to leave the room once he made sure she was safe and warm. "I'll be right outside, call me if you need something." Then he pulled back, scanning the room for any safety hazards before he left.

Aelin cleared her throat, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. "You don't have to do this. I know you don't like me, it's alright. I understand."

She didn't understand shit. He wished Elide had bribed him into doing this or something so he could claim he was here against his will. He didn't want to care for anyone else, not now, not after all that he had done and seen and lived. Especially not for another queen, one just as powerful—if not more—than Maeve. Sometimes, Lorcan had nightmares about that too—about serving in Maeve's court still, wreaking havoc in her name. He didn't want to end up devoted to this new queen as he'd been to Maeve even if he knew the two of them were nothing alike.

Maybe it was that realisation that made Lorcan want to say it. "I've never said it before, not like this but I'm sorry for what happened with Maeve." His voice wobbled as an image of a blood drenched shirt lying in the sad flashed across his vision. Lorcan steeled himself and went on. Aelin had saved his life and Elide's countless times. He owed her this truth, "...you were a foreign queen, a stranger I didn't care about. Now, Aelin? Now, you're my queen and I promise, oath or no oath, I will always protect you." Then, just to lift the mood, he added with a scowl: "Even if you are a raging pain in the ass most times."

Aelin snorted, nudging him to sit beside her. Hellas damn him, he did. "And here I was, thinking we'd become friends after that speech."

"The only way we'll be friends is if you use the blood oath to do that."

Aelin shot him a glare before she snuggled closer, head resting on his chest as if she was trying to leech off his warmth. "It won't be the worst thing in the world to have you around the palace sometimes, I suppose," she mused, her voice muffled and soft. Lorcan didn't move even when her breathing turned soft and steady, his arm wrapped around her.

He didn't regret a thing until the court returned to find the two of them wrapped in a warm embrace. Needless to say, no one let Lorcan forget about it for the next few weeks.

----------------

note: oof, hope y'all liked reading that. it was fun to write Lorcan and Aelin. Would totally do it again. also, not to self promote but join the 1K celebration if you haven't already!

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#aelin galathynius #throne of glass #sarah j maas #acotar #lorcan salvaterre #lord lorcan lochan #elide lochan #elide x lorcan #rowan whitethorn galathynius #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #fanfiction #fluff #aelin and lorcan #ultimate brotp #rowaelin #elorcan #kingdom of ash #fenrys moonbeam #tog fanfic

[banashee]

Part 2/2 of Tony setting the kitchen on fire for @hopelessly-me :D ♥

Enjoy ♥

...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.

 One day, Clint finally caves.

 “Tony. You know I love you, but       please     - let me show you how to cook. I can’t take it anymore.” he tells him over ice cold dinner. The archer pokes a piece of meat with his fork to prove his point.

 Tony nods slowly, but he also says,

 “Last time it was burned. So now I cooked it for less time.”

 Clint blinks at him, knocking on his plate with the meat, which results in a solid noise.

 “...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.”

 “...Okay, yeah.” Tony sighs, shoving the plate away from himself.

 “Sorry, I know the last few months of my cooking haven’t been pleasant. At least I didn’t burn the house down yet.” he adds, with a small smile to lighten the mood, but it is clear he is not happy with his results.

 “The alarm didn’t go off in a while, that’s progress, right?” Clint shoots back a lopsided smile, before he continues,

 “Honestly though, I don’t mean to be condescending because that’s probably how I sound, and I’m really sorry for that, but… I know you’re trying, and I know you don’t like help with things… In general, and I get that. But don’t you think that it would be better in the long run?”

 Their hands meet over the table, warm and solid as they squeeze and hold on, thumbs caressing each other. Clint and Tony have been home to one another for a long time now, and they know with a bone deep certainty that they can talk about things without making a personal vendetta of it, no matter how small or big the issue is. It’s just not how they work - what they have is easy going and it always has been.

 A casual friendship with benefits quickly turned into more, and after months of pining and awkwardness, they finally got a move on and figured out their feelings for each other. That talk had been halting and even more awkward than the weeks before, but it led to mutual three-word-sentences and a future full of happiness.

 Tony smiles, squeezing the other man’s hand as he asks,

 “So, you don’t mind having to show me basic shit like cooking eggs without burning them to a crisp?”

 “No, of course not. I love you and I love cooking - there really is no downside here if you ask me.”

 “Alright, then. Thanks, Babe.” Tony leans forward for a kiss, which Clint is all too happy to give him. The cold dinner on the table is almost forgotten in the next few minutes, but as it turns out, it is the perfect opportunity to start.

 “Okay, so, let’s put this back into the pan and crank the heat up. You want this to be warm and cooked through entirely. Then you - Tony… Please put down the salt shaker.”

 “I have salt and I am not afraid to use it!”

 “Yes I know, and that’s a problem! No, go away with that!” Laughing, the two of them tackle each other through the kitchen, until they end up pushed against the counter, foreheads touching and giggling like lovesick teenagers.

 “Will you give up on any harsh decisions regarding the salt?” Clint asks, in a mock-serious tone that is actually a pretty good impression of what Phil Coulson sounds like, and Tony grins at him, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

 “I      am     small and salty. Never.” he tries to snatch back the salt shaker, attempting to distract Clint with more makeout opportunities. He leans in, pulling Tony close with one arm and holding the salt shaker up over his head with the other - it’s a dick move, but it works. His boyfriends sputtering at the offensive act only makes Clint  laugh more, but they need to flip the meat in the pan before their dinner burns once again, so their bickering is interrupted.

 A little while later, their dinner is actually warm and not only edible, but really, really good at that. Tony is still surprised that they managed to save it, especially since there have been instances where this would have been simply impossible. But then again, he is lucky enough to have a partner who knows how to save messed up food, given there is a way left to salvage it in the first place.

 “What’s the worst that ever happened to you while cooking?” Tony casually asks another night, while he is chopping vegetables into accurate cubes - they’re making stir fry, and the task at hand is easy and repetitive enough to chat away. Besides, he is used to handiwork, so this is totally doable.

 Clint shoots him a knowing, amused look.

 “...I almost set my kitchen in the SHIELD bunk on fire. It was like three in the morning and I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to make a dessert with flambé bananas. Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as planned and my neighbours fucking hated my guts for setting off the fire alarm in the middle of the night… That was about 15 years ago, and goddammit, some people      still    bring it up.”

 Tony laughs, loudly.

 “Well, thank fuck you know what you’re doing now - imagine the two of us being Fire Hazards together, the tower would have burned to the ground ages ago. Imagine SHIELD on our asses for it. Or worse, Cap.”

 Slowly, he shakes his head. No one wants to see Steve’s “I am very disappointed in you”-face if they can help it. To be fair, when it doesn’t come to cooking, and more like, battles or developing weapons, the two of them combined are still a fire hazard. But that’s different, really.

 Clint, however, stops chopping with his knife mid air, head crooked to the side as he gently lowers it onto the cutting board. Then, he asks, completely straight faced,

 “...Did I ever tell you that Fury has backup-plans, just in case the two of us should be going rogue?”

 Putting down his knife as well, Tony fixes his partner in a suspicious stare. Despite everything, this is news to him, and he is about 90% sure that at least on this occasion, Clint isn’t fucking with him. Also, this is totally something he’d expect Fury to do. The man is paranoid, and Tony definitely wouldn’t put such a thing past him.

 “Wait what? No, you didn’t. Spill.”

 With a laugh, Clint tells him,

 “Ever since Nat went undercover as your PA and it was clear that both of us would be part of the Avengers, Fury put protocols in place - covered a lot of hypothetical situations, actually, it was quite funny to read. I think the short version is he knows both of us and our, dare I say, slightly chaotic tendencies…”

 With a snort of laughter, Tony collapses against the counter. This is putting it lightly and they both know it, but he enjoys hearing the story.

 Clint continues,

 “Technically I’m not supposed to know that, but Tasha told me about it. She laughed for like, 10 minutes straight. Me, too, by the way.”

 “I bet - heh, sorry i can’t” it takes a bit for Tony to calm down enough to say,

 “I bet he put a lot more protocols in place ever since he got wind of us being an item. Honestly I’d love to see that list.”

 The corners of his mouth are still twitching, and he wipes amused tears out of his eyes as he keeps cackling away.

 “Oh hey, we should do a dramatic reading of that form!” he says then, and Clint is laughing too hard to answer, but he nods, vegetables forgotten on the counter for several minutes.

 He only barely manages to stop Lucky from stealing the chicken right off of the counter, which only makes him laugh harder as he tries to hold his dog back by the collar. Once again, Lucky looks like he is judging his humans - even his one remaining eye is pretty expressive.  

 Once they have calmed down a bit, they continue. Tony is about to put the vegetables into the frying pan, but Clint stops him.

 “Wait. Put in the onions and garlic first, let them get glassy and then add the rest of it in. One after the other. Hardest stuff first, softest last. That way you have everything cooked through without having some parts mushy in the end.” he explains, which is met with a surprised noise from his boyfriend.

 “Huh, that makes sense. Cooking       is     logical, after all.” Tony says, as if that’s news to him - truth be told, it probably is.

 “Of course it’s logical. What did you think?” Clint asks, even though he already knows the answer.

 “Magic? I don’t fucking know” Tony shrugs, but he looks very much satisfied. Even more so once everything is done. The stir fry turned out perfect, and the pasta only boiled over once - the kitchen is a mess, but the food is amazing, so it comes to no surprise that one after one, the other Avengers show up in the kitchen like a bunch of hungry sharks. Food always brings them together, especially if the delicious smells are wafting through the tower.

 Apart from the obvious - having to eat, having to help out and later on, hating the SHIELD cafeteria with a burning passion - this is why Clint learned how to cook in the first place. Food brings people together, brings in company.

 As someone who spent most of his life either lonely or socially awkward or both, Clint learned early on that if he feeds people, they will stick around - at least for a bit.  It is a long standing habit, and although he genuinely loves cooking and baking, because it’s fun and relaxing, the people aspect is a big motivation as well.

 Feeding people keeps them around and Clint recognizes that this might be a little sad. But he can’t deny that he likes doing it, one of the reasons being that, making food for someone shows that you care. As much as his social skills suck sometimes, Clint likes to take care of the people around him, especially loved ones.

 Lucky for him, there is almost always someone around, here in the tower, to enjoy whatever he spent the day cooking or baking. Especially if either Steve or Thor are home, he knows nothing will stay untouched for long. While those two will eat anything and everything that isn’t nailed down, Clint knows that Tony is usually a bit of a picky eater, but he will try everything Clint makes, because he knows from experience that it’s always good. He does have a bit of a sweet tooth though. Bruce on the other hand prefers savory things, which is why he himself is cooking a lot of spicy, indian food, but he will also happily go to town on a loaf of bread fresh out of the oven.

 Natasha, much like Phil and Pepper whenever they’re around, has a huge sweet tooth - whenever there are cookies or cake or anything else, she is the first to creep into the kitchen. Oftentimes, she steals balls of cookie dough and bowls with batter remaining in them. It gets even worse when Phil is around, because the two of them will team up to get all the sweet things - It’s highly classified, but you can totally buy Agent Coulson with sweet things.

 Clint knows all of this, especially since he’s known Phil and Nat for many many years. Therefore, he counts in whatever they are likely going to steal whenever he is baking - he’s known their systematic approach for ages now, but he doesn’t mind it. Not at all.

 Later that same night, Clint is sprawled out in bed, legs tangled with Tony’s and one arm wrapped around him. His head is pillowed on the other man's shoulder, face pressed into his favourite spot - the crook of Tony’s neck.  Restless fingers are lightly scratching his scalp, and the even breathing of his dog by their feet are almost lulling him to sleep. His other hand is lazily tracing invisible patterns on Tony’s back, fingers creeping under his shirt and against warm, smooth skin. The happy hum he gets in response causes small vibrations to travel through his entire body, even when he can’t hear it.

 They drift off to sleep like this, and when they are in the kitchen the next morning, Clint asks, as Tony keeps an suspicious eye on the scrambled eggs,

 “Do you want to bake bread with me later? We can use it tomorrow for french toast.”

 “...I’ll have to touch wet dough, do I?”

 “...Ideally, yes. But it’s fun, I promise. Careful, your eggs.” he adds, and Tony jumps to flip them - just in time - no harm done. He lets out a sigh of relief.  As it turns out, having someone close to help him get a hang of this really helps. Besides, Clint is a good teacher, and the whole love thing helps a lot. Just spending time together, really - and the compliments from their other teammates for last night’s dinner for example. All of it makes him want to keep going.

 “Okay, let’s do it” Tony says, and the happy smile on his boyfriend's face is more than enough motivation to say “yes” again the next time he asks if he wants to bake.

 As it turns out, baking is a whole different thing than cooking, which takes him by surprise. Especially since he needs to be a lot more accurate for this, while with cooking, there is at least a little bit of freestyling allowed. With baking? Not so much.

 “It’s sticky. Ew. Babe, why? Why did you do this to me?” Tony complains, making a face as he holds up his hands that are covered in admittedly clingy bread dough - he’s not quite sure he actually likes doing this.

 “It needs more flour - hold on.” Clint scrapes off as much dough from his hands as he can, carefully grabs the paper bag with two fingers and sprinkles a little bit more flour in both mixing bowls.

 “Try again, it should work itself out. If it cleans out the bowl we’re good.”

 “You said this was fun… Oh hey, that’s actually better now!” Tony exclaims in surprise, relieved that his bread dough isn’t nearly as sticky anymore - now, he can knead it with his hands without thinking of hacking them off right after. Truth be told, he is starting to see the fun part of this whole thing now.

 “See? You’re doing great by the way.” Clint tells him, a warm and happy feeling spreading out in his chest. He is incredibly happy to be able to have this - to have Tony by his side in the first place. Words can’t express how much he loves this man, and he hopes that Tony knows nonetheless.

 “I’ve got a pretty good teacher - you should meet him some time. He’s got amazing arms and an even better ass.” Tony is grinning over at Clint, absolutely not checking out those very much appreciated body parts while he does so. They have been together for quite some time, but the attraction to one another has not died down - not at all.

 “Oh, does he now?”

 “Very much so.”

 Cheesy flirting and easy banter is what they do best, and by the time their dough is covered and resting, Clint and Tony disappear upstairs and into the bedroom. They lose their clothes on the way, leaving a trail through the entire apartment until they fall into bed, wrapped tightly around one another and laughing in between kisses and wandering hands.

 There is plenty of time to pass until the bread is ready to be baked, after all.

*+~

Prompt 10: Teaching

#banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #ironhawk #65 Random Prompts

[heloflor]

Present Anniversary

AO3 link

When you’ve known someone for over twenty years, it’s hard to come up with a new gift, especially when you have to get it in the present.

Note : Just some fluff that came to mind after hearing about the Cavendish appreciation day, though I’m not sure if this fits with what is expected (still going to post it on December 5 anyways). There are a few dialogues that may seem to go a little quickly, but this was written in like a day so yeah. Also this takes place after season 2. Enjoy !

It has been over an hour since Balthazar stepped foot into Danville’s mall. He had gone into a dozen stores and looked at the windows of countless others. It was hard finding the perfect gift, especially since he couldn’t go back in time anymore. Usually he would just get a dinosaur tooth, an animal fossil, a ticket to some old circus or go to a gladiator tournament. But now, what was he supposed to find ? He couldn’t just offer some random plush or pin ! And a shirt would never be worn ! And it couldn’t be a fridge magnet either. They didn’t even have a fridge ! Frustrated, Balthazar shook his head and tried to concentrate on the display in front of him.

“Hey Cavendish !”, the tall man almost jumped at the sudden voice. He tried to hide his sudden scare as he turned to look at the teenager who called him.

“Oh hello Milo.”, he greeted. “What are you doing here alone ?”, he couldn’t help but ask, distracting the teen while getting his composure back.

“I’m here to buy some new tools.”, Milo replied. “My third screwdriver broke earlier so I need a few new ones before my fourth breaks too. Like my dad always says, ‘you can never have too many spares’ ! What about you ?”

“Oh, well…”, it probably wouldn’t hurt to tell the truth., Balthazar thought “You see, I’m looking for a present.”

“Is it someone’s birthday ?”, the teen excitedly asked.

“Not exactly…”, the tall man went back to look at the shop window, trying to avert his gaze away from the boy.

“What is it then ?”

“Well…”, Balthazar didn’t know if he should tell him. Would Milo understand ? But at the same time, when he and Vinnie got fired and banished, Balthazar was the one who remade all their paperwork to fit in this time period, so he knew they weren’t doing anything illegal. Besides, this was Milo, one of the nicest people he ever met. Surely he wouldn’t say a thing. Making up his mind, Balthazar continued, not without still looking at the window. “You see, I’m looking for a gift for my wedding anniversary.”

“Wait. You’re married ?”, the teen asked in surprise.

“You never noticed ?”, the taller man replied, showing his left hand where a ring was clearly visible.

“Huh. I guess I never thought about it.”, Milo commented. “But wait, if you’re stuck in this time period, how can you celebrate your wedding anniversary ?”

“I beg your pardon ?”

“After all, isn’t your wife in the future ?”, Milo was clearly uncomfortable asking this, as if afraid to hurt Balthazar. But the only response from the taller man was confusion.

“My wife ? I don’t have a…oh. Of course.”, Balthazar’s expression softened, though he started to think that maybe Milo wouldn’t understand, that maybe it was a terrible idea to tell him. But it was too late now. “I don’t…I’m not exactly married to a woman. In fact, I’m married to a man, a man I will have no trouble offering something.”

“So you’re married to a man living here…”, Milo’s eyes suddenly widened. Looks like he finally caught on. “You and Dakota are married ?!”

“Not so loud !”, Balthazar half-whispered half-shouted, getting on the boy’s eye-level. “But to answer your question. Yes, we are married. We have been for sixteen years now.”

“How come you never mentioned it before ?”, seeing Milo be more curious than judgmental helped Balthazar feel more at ease to talk about his relationship, and more importantly the issue with it.

“Well you see, when your job is to travel back in time, there are certain things that are best left…unsaid. People in the past didn’t have the same view as now.”

“…I guess that’s fair.”, Milo’s sad look was enough for the tall man to know that, not only did the teen understand, but this time period wasn’t the safest either. After all, Balthazar could still remember the looks he received when he went to ‘renew’ his papers in order to still be legally married to Vinnie in this time. “So you’re looking for a gift for Dakota ?”, Milo continued.

“Yes indeed.”, Balthazar replied, thankful for the teen helping him focusing back on the task at hand. “I’m trying to find something with animals in it.”

“Animals ?”

“Yes. Dakota has a strange liking for animals, especially exotic ones.” that have long gone extinct. , he decided to keep that last thought to himself. There was no point in telling the boy about the bad side of the future. “But I need more than one of those ‘pins’. I always make sure to find the perfect present and I won’t let our current condition change that !”

“Maybe I can help !”, the teen suggested.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”, as he said that, Balthazar couldn’t help but look around for any possible hazard. He was not going home with a cast today.

“What are you looking for exactly ?”, Milo asked.

“I need something with several animals on it. Something cheap but lasting.”, Balthazar started walking, looking at the windows of the next stores.

“What about a shirt, or a hat, or a bag ?”

“Dakota and I always wear the same clothes. It would be useless.”

“What about a board game then ? I know Dakota likes having fun !”

“Yes…well…”, Balthazar thought of the times the two tried to play a board game. It often ended up in some shouting from his end and frustration for both of them by the time they’re almost done, though they never hold the frustration for long. Besides, what kind of board game would be about animals anyways ? “I’d rather buy something a little more…decorative.”

“Huh. Decorative. Decorative.”, Milo mumbled. “Oh I know ! What not buying a snow globe ?”

“A snow globe ?”

“You know, a globe made of glass with snow in it ? And when you shake it, that snow flies around ? I’m sure you could find one decorated with animals !”

“I suppose but…”, Balthazar sighed. It was far from the perfect gift he had in mind, but he had no idea what else to buy. Besides, he knew Vinnie would like something like that, so it wouldn’t be a total loss. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank you Milo.”

“Anything for a friend !”, the teen cheerfully replied.

“Now, do you know any stores that has such things ?”

    After about another hour of searching, Balthazar was finally walking back at his ‘apartment’. He parted ways with Milo right after finding the best globe he could, to prevent anything bad from happening to it. Luckily, the teen was understanding and even wished him and Dakota a happy anniversary. And speaking of Vinnie…

Balthazar opened the door only to find his husband at his desk. The shorter man jumped at the sound of the door and quickly hid something behind him while standing up. This made the taller man smile. Every year was the same routine.

“Hey Cavendish !”, Vinnie greeted.

“I see you haven’t forgotten this year.”, Balthazar replied.

“Oh come on !”, Vinnie playfully replied. “I only forgot five times out of sixteen. And for three of them we were on a mission. And I always make it up to you later.”

“I know.”, Balthazar gently replied. He couldn’t help it, his wedding anniversary always put him on a good mood. Sure, from the get-go, their relationship always went through a lot of ups and downs. But Balthazar would be lying if he said that his wedding day wasn’t the best day of his life. And every anniversary, he couldn’t help but remember the happiness he felt that day, how hopeful and peaceful and complete he felt, all because of the one man that was now standing in front of him, the same man he now spent twenty-one years of his life with.

“So, are you going to stare at me all day or are we going to celebrate ?”, Dakota asked as he sat on the couch, patting the space next to him.

Balthazar shook his memories away. “Of course.”, he replied as he joined his husband one the couch.

“Here.”, Vinnie said as he handed his gift.

Balthazar took the time to remove the paper wrap without making a mess of it and found himself with a book on his lap. It had some kind of superhero on the cover.

“It’s about a man who fights for what’s best and who never gives up, no matter how much he fails.”, Vinnie filled in. “Sounds familiar ?”

“I don’t see what you are talking about.”, Balthazar replied. He tried to glare at the smaller man but his smile was betraying him. After a few seconds, Balthazar turned back to the book. “It’s a good present.”, he commented.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t get anything better.”, Vinnie was suddenly apologetic, a hand in his hair. “I wanted to find something more fancy and all but…”

“You couldn’t find anything in this time period ?”, the taller man finished.

“Yeah…”

“It’s alright. Here.”, Balthazar handed his present. Vinnie quickly removed the wrap and Balthazar tried not to sigh as several small bits fell. This will be annoying to clean. However, that thought went away as he saw the way Vinnie lighted up at the view of his gift.

“I hope it’s good enough.”, Balthazar still couldn’t help but say.

“Are you kidding ? It’s great !”, Vinnie looked like a child on his birthday. It sure was a warm sight to see.

After a few seconds of shaking the globe and admiring it, Vinnie put it down and turned towards his husband, putting an arm around his shoulders. Balthazar got closer as well, glancing at the light to make sure it wasn’t too intense before slowly removing Vinnie’s glasses, gazing at the colors that made him remember how lucky he was to have fallen for this man all those years ago. Slowly, the two closed the gap between them, sharing a kiss, enjoying the warmth of lips that felt all too familiar and yet all too rare, reminding Balthazar of how many times he had wished to kiss that man during their missions, to take a moment to be just the two of them, but was stopped by the fear of what the past would do to them.

As they pulled away, they kept gazing at each other.

“Happy anniversary Vinnie.”, Balthazar whispered.

“Happy anniversary Balth.”

    After a few more minutes, the two finally left the couch.

“So, where are we going to eat ?”, Balthazar asked as he put his hat back on. It was a habit at that point to let Vinnie chose where they eat.

“Well I found this small place in town. It’s not really some fancy restaurant, but it’s good and cheap.”, Vinnie replied, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“It’s perfect.”, Balthazar reassured. He had to admit, he usually liked going to the best restaurants for this anniversary. But given their current situation, he knew better than to complain.

“Great ! Come on !”, Vinnie was already by the door, making Balthazar roll his eyes. If there was one thing that could motivate the smaller man, it was food. Nevertheless, Balthazar followed his husband outside, giving one last glance to the apartment before living.

Things may not be perfect for them, and they may not have the comfort they used to have in their own present, but they could still make the most out of it. As long as they were together, it didn’t matter what they did for their marriage anniversary, it wouldn’t stop them from creating new memories.

Besides, when has their relationship ever been perfect ?

#Milo Murphy's law #mml #Dakavendish #Balthazar Cavendish #Vinnie Dakota #my fanfics

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #24: Oak and Granite

Prompt: beam | Master Post | AO3

And now to pivot a full one hundred eighty degrees from yesterday’s shameless smut, here’s some WHOLESOME GOODNESS TO ROT YOUR TEETH. :D

Spoilers for Ehll Tou’s Custom Delivery storyline, and consider this a semi-sequel to “Iron and Pine” from earlier in the challenge.

--

[May I open my eyes yet?]

A soft laugh. “Not yet, Ehll Tou. Be patient just a little while longer.”

The dragon sighed heavily, but continued to walk alongside Synnove without further fuss, as tempting as it was to hop and bounce and flap about like an overexcited hatchling on their first excursion outside the nest. Her scales fairly itched with anticipation.

Synnove kept a hand on her shoulder as they walked through the New Nest, guiding her along since Ehll Tou could not rely on her sight. The woman had arrived at her favorite spot at Saint Roelle’s Dais with a skip in her step and a grin on her face and asked Ehll Tou to accompany her, as she had something to show her. Curiosity piqued, and Hautdilong attending to the business of his first draft (so tedious, drafting, but no song was ever perfect upon first composition, as the blood of Ratatoskr well knew!), Ehll Tou had happily followed her friend and teacher.

They had walked in companionable silence until they neared the Mendicant’s Court, at which point Synnove had requested she close her eyes. “It’s a surprise,” she had said, her smile widening. “And us two-legged folk enjoy the mystery that accompanies one. I promise that nothing untoward will happen and I’ll do my very best to lead you safe and sound.”

Ehll Tou had cocked her head and stared at her speculatively. […is Rereha involved at all?] she had finally asked.

Synnove had thrown back her head and laughed. “No, no, absolutely no Rereha! I haven’t told her anything.”

The bard was a gifted song-writer, and it was a pleasure to discuss rhythm and meter with her, or argue the merits of recitation versus choral presentations, whenever Rereha came to the Firmament to perform for its new residents. But that woman got into more trouble than Orn Khai.

[All right, Synnove. But don’t let me trip on any loose cobblestones, as funny as it would be to see a daughter of the sky loose her balance!] Ehll Tou had said as she had closed her eyes.

Another of Synnove’s deep belly laughs had rung out, and then the hyur had placed her hand on her shoulder. “No tripping, I swear.”

They were walking down, now, and Ehll Tou vibrated with excited curiosity. She thought she had an idea of where they could be going; there was a section of the Firmament near the Court where old, rundown warehouses were located. Once, they had served as storage locations for food surplus or mercantile goods, but there had been no plans she was aware of to refurbish them, especially with the Firmament being rebuilt primarily as a residential neighborhood for Ishgard’s homeless and downtrodden.

Still, Ehll Tou held her tongue. Neither Arvide nor Synnove had steered her astray, and Synnove certainly would not start now!

Eventually, they came to a halt. Ehll Tou couldn’t see her, but she could smell Synnove’s own excitement and delight.

[Now may I open my eyes?]

“Go ahead, Ehll Tou.”

The dragon sighed in relief and blinked her eyes open.

Before them stood one of the buildings of the warehouse district, but to her surprise, it was far from dilapidated. Instead, the wooden and stone structure, perhaps two or three stories tall, fairly glowed in the noon sunshine; the granite had been smoothed to a fine sheen and cut so neatly she could barely see seams, and the oak stained to highlight the grain. The roof was made of heavy logs, and the windows she could see had the shutters open to reveal sturdy, thick, but shockingly clear glass, and that alone had her gaping. Glasswork, even plain panes, was a laborious process, and such clarity she had only ever seen in small pieces.

Immediately before them was the large pair of doors that was the main entrance to the warehouse, big enough that Vidofnir or her sire, Gullinbursti, could comfortably walk inside should both be opened. Currently, the doors were shut, however, and the handles chained together with a heavy padlock.

[What is this place, Synnove?] Ehll Tou said, swinging her head around to look at her friend—and gaped once more in surprise.

Synnove stood with one arm behind her back and the other held before her, hand open with the palm upward. And in her palm, was a key.

“This,” Synnove said, smiling wide and bright, “is your new workshop.”

Ehll Tou looked down at the key in Synnove’s hand. Looked over to the warehouse. Looked back to Synnove to meet her brilliant green eyes.

A gravelly, purring chuff rose in her throat, and Ehll Tou hurriedly stashed her beloved hammer in her satchel so that she could safely dart forward and wrap Synnove up in a hug. [Oh! Oh thank you thank you thank you!!!]

She barreled into Synnove so suddenly that the breath left the woman’s chest in a rushing wheeze, but the Highlander was surprised for only a moment, as she hugged Ehll Tou back, her grip firm. Synnove made that suspiciously sniffling sound that meant she was going to find her mate later and do that strange mortal crying thing that apparently could mean either happiness or sadness—though with Synnove, it was typically the former.

They drew apart, Synnove sniffing hard and swiping at her eyes, before holding the key out again, a large grin on her face. Ehll Tou delicately picked the key up with the claws of her right hand and spun on her foot to bounce towards the warehouse doors, flapping her wings just once to increase her momentum.

The padlock clicked open easily, and the chains slithered from the handles. She sounded like a hatchling with how loudly she was happily whining as she pushed inside the warehouse, which morphed into an excited roar as she beheld the interior.

There was so much room! Oh, it was empty, yes, but that was even better: it meant she could lay out all her work stations for carpentry and gemcutting and alchemy and tanning and other rooms however she wanted! Ohhh, a forge in the back that could be the heart of a heating system to keep the whole building warm, and then she could have a lovely little rookery right next to it to doze in on her visits to Ishgard. And an office for Hautdilong! Guest rooms, for Spoken and dragon alike! A larder! A kitchen!

And so much wonderful natural light. Skylights were cut into the roof along regular intervals the whole length of the building, the panes as thick and clear as the windows in the walls. She would need to come up with some sort of light system for evening and night; perhaps hung from the rafters? She crouched down and leapt into the air, and with three powerful flaps of her wings, she landed on one of the huge rafters in question, testing its strength.

It didn’t creak at all.

Oh, yes, that would do nicely. She would simply need to engineer something that would not be a fire hazard; perhaps crystal, or some sort of alchemical mixture.

At a familiar, attention-grabbing whistle, Ehll Tou looked down, and met Synnove’s gaze, the woman standing in the midst of the warehouse among all the sunshine with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face.

“I take it you like it?” her friend called out.

Ehll Tou roared again, wings flaring. [I LOVE IT! Thank you!!]

“You are most welcome, skysinger.”

#ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv #spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #5.3 spoilers #custom deliveries spoilers #ehll tou #oc: synnove greywolfe #dt's writing