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#lissa’s corner
sansang · 1 year
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it’s lissa day B)
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orangechickenpillow · 4 months
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You know, Ezra and Cee's relationship is a fantastic example of what a father daughter (or even parent child) dynamic should look like. Minus the whole killing-her-biological-father part (even if he was an Ass™)
Ezra never -- not once pushed the blame on Cee. Even when, in his anger and pain (I mean, the girl literally shot him in the arm) it would have been easy for him to do so. He never did.
He tried to make her as comfortable as possible, all things considered -- trying to tell her she could trust him, that he'd look after her, even going so far as to voluntarily return her weapon to her so she'd feel more in control and secure.
And don't even get me started on their conversation post-amputation. He listened to her without interruption. He engaged with her in a genuinely thoughtful way. He offered her emotional advice, showed interest in the things she expressed excitement about, and never made her feel small for her emotions, but even encouraged them.
And the great thing is, Cee felt like she could tell him all of this. She felt that she could share her most important insterests, and even her creative endeavors, with him. And when she expressed doubt about these things, putting herself in an even more vulnerable position, he made her feel good about herself and built her up.
Ezra might have done some bad things, but he sure as hell is a great parental figure.
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writingcroissant · 7 days
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The Lie of Windhaven | Azriel x reader [Part 1]
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The Lie of Windhaven [Masterlist] here!
Summary: Windhaven is a cruel place, and Azriel does his best to save her from a fate no Illyrian female can outrun. But in doing so, he might have just sentenced them both to death.
A/N: Did I plan on finishing a couple more chapters before starting yet another series? yes. Did I end up loving this so much I couldn't wait to post it? yes. Do I need to be stopped? absolutely.
Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. ✨
Word count: 5800
Warnings: angst, language, brief mentions of SA and canon typical violence and misogyny, a bit of SMUT (18+)
-
"By the Cauldron, he's so sexy."
Halting in her movements, Y/N blinked at the obvious lust dripping from Malina's words like wax from a candle. The brush with which she'd just been scrubbing a pan in the ice-cold water of the dish-bucket halted, and she stared at her friend in confusion.
"Excuse me?"
Lissa snickered knowingly, and Y/N could spot the heat in Malina's eyes as she nodded her chin to something behind her back.
When she looked over her shoulder to follow Malina's gaze, her words suddenly made sense and Y/N turned back to her work with a soft roll of her eyes.
"Oh, come on," Lissa said with a smile, rubbing a towel against a heavy iron tumbler. "Let her pine a little. You can't deny he's attractive."
"Attractive?" Malina scoffed. "He's drop-dead gorgeous. And aside from Cassian he's the best warrior in this camp. In this court, even!" The lusty expression on her face made way for conspiratorial excitement as she leaned closer. "I overheard Devlon speak to his advisors last week. They said Azriel might qualify for seven Siphons. Can you believe that? Seven. I can't even get one!"
Y/N halted once again, staring at her friend for but a split second before scrubbing a little harder at the pan, her jaw clenched in anger.
"That's because you've been born with the wrong equipment between your legs, apparently," she huffed as she scrubbed and scrubbed at a particularly stubborn patch of burnt food.
Lissa sighed softly, but Malina snorted. "Well, it's the right equipment for my purposes."
"And what purposes are those?"
A filthy grin twisted the corners of Malina's lips higher. "Getting pounded by the shadowsinger, of course."
Y/N couldn't help the laugh that broke from her throat at her friend's crude words, and her giggles only worsened at the scandalised expression on Lissa's face.
"Malina!" Lissa hissed before throwing nervous glances over her shoulder. "People can hear you."
"Oh, come on, like these brutes ever talk about anything else. Why shouldn't I?" Her gaze latched back onto Azriel, and heat flickered in her eyes once again. "I bet he's really good at it, too. He has to be. Look at him."
Y/N smirked as she yielded and turned to steal another glance as Azriel. He was talking to one of the camp officials, strong jaw set tight, muscular arms crossed over his chest, and shadows curling around his shins. His wings protruded from his back like two huge shadows of death, and dark strands of hair fell into his face.
Malina was right. He looked good enough to eat.
Suddenly, and as thought having heard the very thoughts in her head, the shadowsinger's eyes flickered to the side. Just as he met her gaze, Y/N snapped her attention back to the pan in her hand, keeping her head down.
Only Malina didn't bother looking away. "Gods, I'd totally have his babies if he asked me to."
Y/N smiled to herself, but it was Lissa who snorted this time. "Why don't you go over to talk to him if you're that desperate?"
Malina sighed as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. "I've tried! He's not interested in me. In anyone, really." A sour frown had her lips flatten into a thin line. "Auren from the dorms practically threw herself at him yesterday, and he didn't even bat an eye. Have you seen Auren? Who in their right mind would say no to her?"
"Do you think he has someone?" Lissa asked, her tone curious and soft as she stole yet another glance at the shadowsinger—a little less obvious than Malina's leers, though still noticeable.
"I doubt it," Malina said. "I mean, we would have noticed, right? We live in the same camp."
-
"Fuck," she hissed through clenched teeth, her toes curling as she placed a hand on the table behind her to brace herself against the sharp snap of his hips. "Az—oh Gods."
Azriel was on her then, grinning as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist to haul her to his chest, lips devouring her in a searing kiss to swallow throaty moans.
His hips slowed to a deep grind, one of his hands slipping to her ass to hold her in place.
"You'll wake the whole camp," he muttered against her, his breath coming in fast pants to mix with hers.
"If I do, it's your own fault," she gasped, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip as she raked her fingers through his hair.
A dark chuckle resonated through his chest, his lips finding the skin of her neck as he urged her backwards until she lay on the table before him, her wings spread beneath her, her legs wound tightly around his hips.
"You're delicious," he breathed against her skin, following the column of her neck until he trailed his tongue down her sternum, rough palm finding the supple flesh of a breast.
Her body arched towards his mouth like a flower to the sun, and she breathed a moan when his hips started up again, his heavy weight retreating from deep within her only to slide back home in one long thrust. Then another. And another, each one harder than the one before, and when he quickened his pace to bury himself inside of her with a rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the table began to shake.
A sound lodged deep in her throat, but before she could release it, his lips found hers again, swallowing her whimpers, her moans, her gasps, and giving raspy groans of himself in return.
When she tightened around him, Azriel's palm travelled to the spot between her legs he knew would make it even better for her—draw it out—and when it got almost unbearably good and he felt his own composure slip with the way she writhed against him, he forced himself to pull out and spill his seed on her stomach with a choked sound to fall from his lips.
He stayed like that for a moment, forehead resting against hers, and rapid breaths mixing with her own. When he pushed himself back up, arms straining against the wooden tabletop, he raked his eyes down her body with a new flicker of lust already blooming deep in his stomach.
"Don't look at me like that," she said, her smile amused, her hand limp as she gave a half-hearted shove at his chest.
Azriel tilted his head, not moving an inch from where he stood. "Why not?"
"I'm tired, sweaty, and covered in cum."
Azriel snorted softly, and when he took a step back to pull his pants back on from where he'd dropped them to his ankles earlier, her legs slipped from his hips to dangle off the table.
"Wait here," he said, brushing a palm over her knee as he stepped towards the shelves by the far wall.
There were certain perks to doing it in the supply hut.
When he returned with a towel, she'd already risen into a sitting position, her legs crossed at the ankles and swinging gently back and forth.
"Thanks," she said, taking the towel from him to clean herself.
A pensive look had entered her eyes somewhere along the lines, and as Azriel watched her wipe at her skin, a nagging voice sounded in the back of his head.
"Are you okay?" he heard himself ask, his voice low, his eyes never leaving her face.
When she looked up, she seemed surprised. "Me? Of course."
"I'm just asking because ... well, you look like you might be regretting this," Azriel said, picking up his leathers from where he'd dropped them to the dusty floor to slip them back over his torso.
"This?"
"You and me."
She smiled, dropping the towel to the floor, body still bare like the day she was born when she pulled him closer by the waistband of his pants to sling her arms around his neck. She kissed him then, and Azriel's chest deflated in a content sigh.
"I don't," she breathed against him. "I was just thinking about something Malina told me today."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. She's crushing on you, by the way. Hard. By now, I'm sure the entire camp knows that she wants to fuck your brains out."
Azriel chuckled at that, kissing the corner of her lips. "Is that what you're thinking so hard about?" His voice morphed into the sensual hum she adored as he trailed the very tip of his nose along her jaw. "Because I can assure you that I only want her friend to fuck my brains out."
"Oh, Lissa?" she asked with an innocent look on her face. "I can introduce you if you want." Azriel lifted his head with a soft roll of his eyes and a smile she wanted to burn into the very walls of her brain. "But anyway, that's not what I was thinking about."
"What then?"
She chewed on her lip, as though uncertain whether to tell him, but when she finally decided to speak, it was with barely veiled curiosity.
"She said she overheard Devlon saying you'd qualify for seven Siphons."
"Oh, that," Azriel muttered, avoiding her gaze to track his eyes along her lips. "Yeah."
A beat of silence.
When he looked back up, she was gaping at him.
"Yeah? That's all you have to say? Seven Siphons is insane, Azriel! You should be strutting around camp like nobody's business."
Azriel ran his palms down the sides of her body. "It's really not that big of a deal."
She stared at him. "It's a huge deal. Some of us can't even get one."
He looked at her for a long while then, and no matter how hard she tried to conceal it, he soon recognised the expression on her face for what it was. Envy.
His tone hardened, tension returning to his shoulders from the blissful droop they'd so far maintained. "They still won't let you train?"
The muscles in her jaw clenched, and the heat that had so far remained mildly present at the consistency of his touches left her face entirely to make room for bitterness. Sliding her body off the table, she began to collect her clothes from the floor and drag the fabric over her skin.
"No," she muttered into the darkness of the supply hut. "Every time I ask, they laugh in my face and send me off to the kitchens. It's humiliating."
"That's unacceptable. Rhys explicitly told Devlon to let you train. All of you."
"As much as I love him, Rhys' word doesn't mean shit as long as his father is still High Lord," she said. "Devlon doesn't view the things he says as a rule, he views them as a suggestion. A suggestion he can easily choose to ignore."
Azriel watched as she dragged the heavy fabric of her dress up her body, and when she wordlessly turned her back, his fingers found the laces of their own accord.
He worked quietly, her last words looming above them like a grey storm cloud about to pelt them with rain. Nimble fingers tightened her laces before tying them into a bow just above the curve of her ass, all the while making sure to avoid brushing against her wings. She'd always been adamant about it, perhaps even more so than the average Illyrian. It was the little control she tried her best to maintain in a camp that had been designed to keep her entire sex repressed in every way possible.
As his hands stilled, Azriel let them sink back to his sides, a soft sigh leaving him when she turned back around to meet his gaze with a sadness that was evident in each of her features.
"It's sweet that you care enough to ask Rhys for help on my behalf," she spoke quietly. "But perhaps it's time I finally accept my fate and take my place in this camp."
Azriel felt his forehead crease. "What?"
He watched her throat bob, hesitance in the silence that stretched on before her next words rang through the dusty air of the hut. "Elas asked me to marry him."
There was a sinking feeling in Azriel's gut as the weight of her words settled in.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, you cannot—"
"He's my best option," she said, avoiding his gaze by staring at his leather-clad chest instead. Her voice sounded ... dull. Lifeless. "He's not as cruel as the others, and he won't clip my wings."
"So, you'll ... what?" Azriel huffed, anger suddenly burning hot in his throat, his nostrils flaring. "Pop out babes and play house?"
The look in her eyes was hurt as her gaze shot back to his, but part of him was relieved to find that there was still some fight left in her.
"Playing house is exactly what I am doing right now, Azriel," she hissed. "I'm cooking, and cleaning, and washing. I'm not allowed to train and every day that passes without me breeding new soldiers is another day I fail to achieve my one purpose in this place. What do you think they do with females who won't do their job? What do you think they'd do with you if you refused to do your job?"
"You're so young." Azriel felt his head shake. "You have time, you—"
She scoffed half-heartedly. "Malina and I are the oldest unmarried women in the camp. Lissa is the third and she's just nineteen. That's five years I have on her, Azriel, and I certainly won't survive another five. They will either kill me, send me away, or force me, and I'd rather give in and marry Elas now than continue to fight them only to end up chained to someone who will tear the wings from my back and rape me every night to sire an heir."
Azriel stared at her, wracking is brain for options, for a way out, for some way to help her. But everything she said was true. He'd seen what they did to the women that refused to birth new soldiers or the ones whose wombs simply remained fruitless despite their best efforts. Seeing as most honourable chores were reserved for the young girls, the wives and the mated females of the camp, the luckier ones were put to work in the pleasure hut, but most were sent away. A death sentence in these parts of Illyria.
"Marry me then."
The words were out before he'd considered them, and a tired smile stretched across her face in response.
"Az—"
"I mean it," he said quietly, stepping a bit closer—only far enough to feel the warmth radiating off her body. "I could train you. The one thing Devlon doesn't care about is what his men do with their women in private. Nobody would say anything. I could train you, and you'd be protected. You wouldn't have to bear children. I wouldn't hold you to anything. You'd be free."
She was silent for a long while, and as Azriel held her gaze, he saw a plethora of emotions swim in her eyes—all of which were eventually drowned out by all-consuming hopelessness.
"Azriel, other than the fact that I would never ask you to make such a monumental sacrifice for me, you're forgetting a very important detail."
Azriel refrained from voicing the fact that it would be anything but a sacrifice to him, and instead waited for her to continue.
"You are to receive seven Siphons."
His forehead wrinkled at that. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Seven Siphons, Azriel. You are literally one of the two most powerful Illyrian warriors to ever exist. And aside from that, you're a shadowsinger and the best friend of the heir of the Night Court." She swallowed. "Do you honestly believe they'd let you marry me?"
"I—of course." But even as he muttered the words, he knew them to be untrue, and by the looks of it, she could tell.
She smiled, but it was so full of sadness that Azriel's chest clenched at the sight. "I'm an orphan. The low-born daughter of a foot soldier and a pleasure hut whore. You will most likely be married off to the child of a warlord. Perhaps even Devlon's daughter once she bleeds." She hesitated, and this time when she spoke, her words sounded thick. "I am worthless in every matter that counts. I am simply not meant to bring you more than a few pleasurable hours in a supply hut."
Azriel didn't miss the irony of it all. He was just as low-born as she was, raised as a bastard in every sense of the word, but the sex between his legs had granted him the ability to fight his way out of it. A luxury she didn't have.
She held his gaze when he lifted his palm to the side of her neck, thumb pressing into her jaw. "You're not worthless to me."
"I know," she breathed.
"So let me help you." He urged. "Let me try."
"Which brings us right back to my first point." She said, tilting her head down for her cheek to slip into the warmth of his palm. "I'm not letting you sacrifice your own happiness for mine."
Azriel huffed, annoyed. "Will you stop being so damn noble for a second? I'm not sacrificing anything. You're one of my closest friends. There are far worse things than being married to you."
Her brows inched closer together. "You're twenty-five and immortal, Azriel. What if you meet the love of your life in ten years from now? Or fifty years, or a century? You cannot possibly think it wise to take such a decision lightly."
"We'd only have to last until Rhys was High Lord. Marriages can be ended." His teeth clenched at the prospect of it, but he kept that to himself.
"You're building this entire plan on nothing but hope. There's no guarantee Rhys will ever be High Lord to begin with. Things happen every day. People die, plans change."
"You're dramatizing it."
"No, you're not taking it seriously," she snapped, stepping backwards and away from his touch. "I am marrying Elas. I will bear his children, and maybe, if I'm lucky, he'll let me do my thing once he has what he wants from me. This," she waved her hand as though to include the entire supply hut in her speech, "is over, Azriel."
Azriel stared at her, stared silently at the woman he'd spent countless hours loving in the shadows of the night, before he turned to leave without another word.
-
She could feel Lissa's eyes on her as she slapped a wet piece of fabric against the washboard over and over again. Her fingers were numb from the water that was yet again ice-cold to the touch, her lips twisted into a deep frown.
"Just once they could give us some warm fucking water," Y/N muttered more to herself than anyone else.
"I suppose it would be too much effort to keep it heated out here," Lissa spoke gently.
"Too much effort," she scoffed. "Our fingers aren't needed for fucking and breeding so why bother keeping them from freezing off, right?"
Lissa remained silent.
"By the Cauldron, what's gotten your panties in a twist today?" Malina asked, a note of amusement in her tone as she set a full basket of laundry on the stone by the wash basin.
"Malina," Lissa spoke softly, and from the corner of her eyes, Y/N could see her give a subtle shake of her head in Malina's direction.
"Nothing," Y/N muttered, curling her fist into the stiff fabric off a pair of pants and rubbing them forcefully against the bumps and ridges of the board. She could feel a fingernail bend backwards, already soft from the water, but she swallowed the sting of a torn nail bed and dug her fingers deeper into the cloth.
"You sure about that?" Malina asked, a single brow raised as she watched her friend work. "Because one could think those pants offended you personally."
"It's nothing," Y/N said again, her tone sharper this time.
Her friends fell quiet for a moment.
"Alright then," Malina finally mumbled, unceremoniously dumping the contents of her basket into the soapy ice water before heaving another basket to her hips, this one filled with heaps of freshly washed, dripping wet fabric.
As Malina turned to head for the lines they used to hang their washing, Lissa leaned a bit closer to Y/N, her own hands submerged in water as well. The skin of her hands and forearms had already taken on an angry red hue.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, to which Y/N finally tore her attention from the assaulted cloth in her hands.
She looked at Lissa for a moment, at the kind eyes she'd loved from the moment she'd first seen them over a decade ago. The little sister she'd always wished she had.
Her fight with Azriel still sat deep in the marrow of her bones and it felt like it ached every time she moved. She hadn't seen him since last night. He hadn't been at breakfast, and she'd spotted Cassian training with someone else at noon when usually that was the time he and Azriel pummelled each other into the dirt of the training ring.
In a way, she was relieved. She didn't need the constant reminder of all the things she couldn't have. But then again, she was painfully aware of it anyway.
"Yes," she said, forcing the corners of her lips to inch a bit higher from the ominous droop they'd maintained throughout most of the day so far. She didn't have to drag Lissa down as well. After all, there was no use in dwelling on things neither one of them could change. "I'm okay."
Lissa looked like she wanted to say something, but just as she opened her mouth, a shadow fell over her and a deep voice interrupted her unspoken words.
"Ladies."
Y/N flinched as she turned to face the bearer of a voice she knew all too well, her heart sinking like a stone.
"Elas," Lissa said as a way of greeting, the usual friendly note in her tone. Sometimes, Y/N wondered at her friend's ability to be kind to every person she met. "What brings you here?"
Dark eyes didn't once move their attention from Y/N, and she could feel their stare in the very pit of her stomach.
"I've come to collect an answer." He offered a small smile, and it seemed honest enough.
"Oh?" Lissa said, her eyes flickering to her friend once again.
As Y/N stared at the man before her, she could feel her heart beat up to her throat for all the wrong reasons. Sure, he was nice enough. He was a brutal fighter, but she'd never seen him abuse one of the other females in the camp. He didn't frequent the pleasure hut and he refrained from fighting the other men unless for training purposes. He was vicious when he needed to be, but he wasn't unnecessarily cruel.
She'd heard things from some of the girls in her dorm, too. Acceptable things. Things that suggested a life with him would be bearable, given the alternative. They'd said he was thorough in the way he lay with a woman. Not necessarily gentle, but respectful at least, and that alone was rare in a war camp.
Rare, but not unheard of.
Her thoughts flickered to Azriel.
"Y/N?" Elas asked when she'd remained silent for maybe a heartbeat too long. "You required a day of contemplation."
"Yes," she heard herself say. "Yes, I ... I contemplated."
His eyes narrowed only a fraction. "And?"
Silence stretched with only the sounds of the camp droning on in the background. Clashing metal from a distant sword fight, booming laughter coming from the direction of the dining hall.
It seemed her head had been wrapped in cotton as she stared at Elas, at his dirty blond hair—that, too, a rarity in the Illyrian gene pool.
There was nothing wrong with him. He'd already agreed to keeping her wings intact. There was no reason why she shouldn't be as happy with him as with any other.
And yet her mouth tasted of ash as she forced herself to voice a reply.
"Yes." She swallowed. "My answer is ... yes."
The only sign that he'd heard her was a pleased gleam that had entered his eyes, accompanied by the slightest dip of his chin.
"Y/N?" She closed her eyes for a moment as Malina approached, once again carrying a basket of new laundry. Her eyes flickered to Elas. "What's going on?"
Elas finally moved to look at Malina, and for the first time since he'd joined them by the wash basin, Y/N felt like she could breathe freely again.
"Y/N has agreed to marry me."
The surprise was evident on Malina's face.
"You ..." Her gaze found Y/N, and in it lay a look she couldn't quite read. A beat of silence passed.
"Wow," she finally said, her tone as sober as Y/N had never heard it before, her face a wall of indecipherable stone. "Congratulations."
Y/N inclined her head, not trusting her voice enough to convincingly express feigned gratitude.
"I shall leave you to it, then," Elas stated, offering a tight-lipped smile as he turned back to face Y/N. "We will discuss the details later."
Once he'd left, deafening silence settled over the scene, and Y/N took to staring at the heaps of clothes they'd still have to wash, desperately waiting for the burning in her eyes to recede.
Lissa was the first to speak, her voice gentle with an assuring smile. "He's a fine choice, Y/N. I'm sure he will be good to you."
"Yes," Y/N mumbled, grabbing for a tunic floating at the surface of the water to resume washing. "I'm sure he will be."
After a while, Lissa joined in with a soft sigh passing her lips, and only Malina was left staring at her friend's back.
"I can't believe you."
"Don't start, Malina," Y/N spoke quietly, biting her tongue to keep her lip from wobbling. "Not right now." She refused to break down in the middle of the camp.
"You've been fucking Azriel for months, and now you're settling for Elas?"
Every muscle in her body tensed as Y/N turned to look at her friend. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Don't even try to deny it," Malina scoffed. "You're not that good of an actress."
"I don't— ... I'm not—" Y/N broke off. "You're the one who's been drooling over Azriel left and right. And will you please keep your voice down?" she added in a quiet hiss.
"Oh please. I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to spill the beans," she said. "I honestly didn't expect you to be that stubborn. I thought for sure you'd break at 'I would totally have his babies'."
Y/N's head swivelled around to face Lissa, who'd stayed conveniently quiet the entire time.
"Did you know too?"
At least she had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry. We saw you sneaking around a few weeks back."
"That's not the point," Malina said, stepping into Y/N's space and finally lowering her voice. "Tell me you're not dumping the shadowsinger to bear that oaf's children."
"I'm not dumping anyone," Y/N muttered through clenched teeth, nudging Malina away with her elbow before turning back to the sopping wet tunic. "Azriel and I were just messing around."
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"Malina," Lissa spoke as softly as she always did when she wanted to keep their fiery friend from lashing out too harshly.
"What? Tell me you don't think this is a mistake of catastrophic proportions."
"I'm not having this discussion with you," Y/N said, her voice surprisingly calm in her own ears. "I don't have any more fight in me. I accepted Elas' proposal and ended it with Azriel. It's done. And besides, it's none of your business who I intend to marry."
Malina scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Okay, sure. Go ahead and marry the oaf for all I care. But it looks like I'm not the only one who has something to say about that."
"What?"
When Y/N looked at her friend, Malina jerked her chin up once, nodding to something behind her back.
"Looks like the shadowsinger is going head-to-head with your new fiancé." She said, tilting her head. "Shall we take bets on who will come out alive?"
Y/N's head turned fast enough for her neck to give an uncomfortable crunch. And truth be told, Azriel and Elas stood with but a foot of space between them in the middle of the courtyard, shoulders squared and tense lips moving. A few of the other warriors had already begun to gather in small groups to watch the spectacle from afar.
"Oh no," she muttered, dropping the tunic she'd been washing into the cloudy water. "No, no, no ..."
Before she could tell herself to stay out of it, her feet had carried her across the courtyard, and the closer she got, the faster her heart was beating. She arrived there just as Devlon himself stepped up to the Illyrians, his brow raised in a bored sort of way. She stumbled to a halt a few feet away, her hands ice-cold and dripping onto the fabric of her dress.
"What is the meaning of this?" Devlon drawled. "You know there's no fighting in my courtyard. If you have things to settle, go put that energy to use in the training ring."
"Azriel has lost his mind, my lord," Elas said, his eyes taking note of her presence for only a split-second before latching back on to the shadowsinger before him. "He seems to think he has some kind of claim on my fiancé."
Y/N's eyes snapped to Azriel, and the blood ran cold in her veins. He didn't meet her gaze, but as he stared down Elas, shadows were circling his limbs, and he looked every bit the terrifying shadowsinger she knew him to be.
"Fighting over a girl," Devlon snorted. "How original."
"I am betrothed to her, my lord," Elas spoke calmly. "She has just confirmed it a few moments ago. I don't see how the shadowsinger has any right to interfere."
Devlon tilted his head, his attention now on Azriel. "Who is this mysterious female you're suddenly so interested in?"
Azriel remained quiet, but Elas' eyes once again flickered to Y/N, and this time, Devlon's attention followed. His chest expanded in a deep inhale as he lay eyes on her, his expression turning to stone.
"Of course it's you," she could hear him mutter even from a distance before his eyes snapped back to Azriel. "This is ridiculous. She is far beneath your rank. You will let him have her."
"No."
The word was spoken softly, almost inaudible in the winds of the mountain camp, but Devlon's expression darkened momentarily.
"Excuse me?"
"I will not let him have her," Azriel spoke, his voice entirely too calm as he kept his eyes on Elas. "I intend to marry her myself."
"Azriel," Y/N said, her tone sharp as she took a step closer, but her feet froze to the ground at a single look from Devlon.
"You will certainly not marry her, shadowsinger," Devlon growled, stepping closer to Azriel as though to intimidate, his voice dripping with authority. "The High Lord will never allow it. I will never allow it. Your genes are much too precious to waste on—"
"With all due respect," Azriel interrupted, now taking his eyes off Elas to face Devlon for the first time since he'd set foot in the courtyard. "That is not your decision to make."
"You're right, it's mine," Y/N hissed, but they ignored her entirely. Like her opinion mattered least of all, when it was her life they were discussing. Only a slight twitch in Azriel's wings suggested that he'd heard her. He was blocking her out on purpose, then. Nice.
"She has agreed to marry me," Elas snapped, his collected demeanour slipping. "What makes you think—"
"This discussion is over," Devlon announced, seething at Azriel's blatant disregard of a direct order. "The girl will marry Elas."
"She will do no such thing," Azriel said, still so damn calm.
"Are you honestly going to fight me over a piece of ass?" Elas snapped, and Y/N flinched as though he'd struck her. Humiliation heated her cheeks at the leering grins from the surrounding Illyrians, but she kept her jaw clenched and her chin held high.
Azriel's shoulders tensed.
"I will if you call her that again."
"Azriel, that's enough," Y/N said, stepping even closer—close enough to run the risk of catching a punch should fists start flying.
He was ruining this for her. Elas wasn't stupid, and Azriel had already made it painfully obvious that there was history between them. If Elas felt in any way humiliated at the prospect of marrying Azriel's ... leftovers, there was no guarantee that he'd keep up his part of the deal. He'd clip her wings just to spite Azriel.
Her throat tightened at the thought.
"Yes, Azriel. Listen to the girl. That's enough," Devlon hurled at Azriel—who remained as stoic as ever—and then turned around to face the gathered spectators. She spotted Cassian among them, a slight crease between his brows as he kept his attention moving back and forth between her and Azriel.
"Get back to your training now," Devlon barked. "There's nothing to see here."
Feet began to shuffle over rubble and dirt as winged soldiers went back to their day. Only Cassian remained standing where he was, bulging arms crossed over his chest. His gaze had locked on to Azriel now. It almost seemed like he knew that Azriel wasn't done yet.
"I have the right to demand her hand," Azriel said, and her brows twitched closer together at his choice of words.
"I beg your pardon?"
The right?
Devlon swivelled around, furious that Azriel hadn't yet dropped the discussion.
Elas scoffed. "Oh yeah? And what right is that?"
Azriel's eyes met hers then, and the determination she saw reflected within them had her heart drop to her stomach. She knew in that moment what he was planning to do, the lie he planned to weave.
"No," she breathed again just as Azriel opened his mouth to doom them both.
"She's my mate."
And just like that, every head within hearing distance turned to look at her.
-
Read [Part 2] here!
A/N #2: I'll just go ahead and tag everyone who asked to be tagged in Skyfall too, so you guys don't have to keep asking me to add you for every damn series I start hahah. Please do let me know if you want to be removed from the tags for this—no hard feelings!!
Tags:
@byyalady @tele86 @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @justrepostandlove @starriestarlight @tele86 @waytoomanyteenagefeels @ryekoo @azriel-shadowsingerr @amygdtjhddzvb @ohhellotherebumblebee @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @astarlitsoul @amysangel @fxckmiup @ruler-of-hades @whitewolfsbitch @threespacemonkeys @mell-bell @sillysillygoose444 @quiettuba @itsswritten @brujitafantomatico @badpvn @justrepostandlove @of-outerspace @bakananya @iamjimintrash @starseedsamurai @balsalmic-vinegar @secretlyhers @the-spine-of-the-world @lees-chaotic-brain @helloevilmuffins @cinnamonmelody @jediknightjana @acourtof-wingspan @nxgh1 @aactuaaltraash @marigold-morelli @thatsassyhufflepuff @darlingbravebelle @anxious-study @thisisew @that-one-little-soybean @brieflyclassymortal @isa1b2h3 @julesofvolterra @prettylittlewrites @i-am-infinite @thecraziestcrayon @spellbinding-snoozles @wilmalovegood @chxosangxl @fantasyandshit
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emsgwenstan · 2 months
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Holding on to our family
{Larissa Weems x fem niece reader.}
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Words: 2k
Warnings: flashbacks, angst, hurt.
Note/summary: after Larissa’s death, y/n heads back to nevermore to tie some loose end or attempt to anyway.
2 miles to Jericho. That’s it. You know how far the township is from the airport like the back of your hand, but for the first time you wish you didn’t because then the sickening feeling wouldn’t be so prominent. You remember the first time you traveled to Vermont from London, you were 14 and she happily greeted you at the station in Burlington.
The sun was unwelcomly shining and casting rays through the branches, she loved the sun, the shadows whipping over the car from the ungodly speed you were doing. “Auntie lissa I’m scared.” You said. “Just go slow sweetheart, I’ll tell you when to change gears.” She smiled. “Ok, oh my- don’t you get scared passing other cars!” You shrieked. “You will be fine just concentrate on your side of the road. I promise you will be ok.” She said. And you believed her. If only she could see you now.
Passing by the Jericho sign you slowed down to take the turn off for nevermore’s drive way. ‘12 minutes’, you thought opting not to speed trying to drag it out for as long as you can. Once the iron gates came into view, your heart paced quicker. The nostalgia filled your senses as you recall how your nevermore days were the best of your life, you had friends, you did well in school, you had the privilege of having a single dorm with your own space and privacy and it was all thanks to her.
Larissa was the one who helped you on your darkest days, lightest and every other one in between, it started from the day you were born, your mother was absent and you father was always busy with his company and running off with his abundance of secretaries. She is- well was your fathers sister, your aunt consequently, but you forgot that most of the time, she was more like both the parents you needed in one, every holiday she would come back to the uk and visit, doing everything she possibly could, like teaching you to drive.
Putting the car in park in the lot that displays ‘reserved for principle L.W.’ You stepped out, the whole 6 feet of you, plus the extra inches from the heels you had on, straightened your blazer, did up the button then smoothed out your signature Weems, platinum blonde hair. The cobblestone clacking the whole trek, as expected once you rounded the corner many eyes set on your figure, students and teachers all going quiet and whispering to each other. Some you still remember.
Not stopping until you climbed the stairs to her office you made it on top of the mezzanine, your eyes flicked to her hanging portrait on one of the far walls. Pacing to the painting you admired it for a moment before you slid it aside to retrieve the spare key. For the first time in two years you stepped through the threshold of her office, it felt weird, wrong, the fire wasn’t alight, her laptop wasn’t resting on top of her desk, but everything else remained in exact place as the last time you saw it.
You walked around the desk to sit in her chair, just like you had many times before. “Here my sweet, sit here, it will be easier to do your homework.” She’d say. “Thanks lissa, you’re not leaving though?” You asked. “No, I am done for the day, but I’ll be right here on the lounge reading for a bit.” She said coming to stand behind your place in her chair, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head and walked over to lay down with her heels removed and legs slung over the edge of the couch. How you missed her.
As you sat tears started to well in your eyes, you discarded your sunglasses tossing them onto the table and rubbed at your eyes. Just then the door rang with a gentle knock. “Y/n?” A small voice asked as the door cracked open. Lifting your head from your hand a small smile graced your face. “Enid, hi.” You said standing, walking over to her with open arms. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come up here.” She said coming into your embrace. “Yeah well I had to some time.” You said. “I missed you.” She huffed into your chest. “I missed you to little lycan.” You said pulling back with wet eyes and a sniff. “Heeyyy, I love the hair.” You said groggily playing with the pink and blue tips. “Thanks.” She said sadly.
A moment went by when she spoke again. “I miss her too.” She said looking around the room. “Yeah.” You mumbled. A noise emanated through the door, you looked at Enid quizzically. “Um that’s Wednesday.” She said spinning on the spot and going to open the door, the girl really was like a storm cloud, literally black and white, just like how Larissa had explained. “Hello Wednesday.” You greeted. She peered at you unblinking until she looked you up and down. You extended a hand for her to shake and hesitantly she did so. “Y/n Weems, I’m Larissa’s niece.” You explained. “She told me a lot about you… don’t worry I don’t bite.” You said looking at Enid. “Well biting isn’t really a worry for you I suppose is it.” You said trying to ease the awkwardness. The look on Enid’s face was priceless, completely red. Wednesday on the other hand her scowl dropped immediately. “Hey that’s what happens when your added to this one’s close friends story on instagram.” You said giggling.
“You look like her.” Wednesday spoke, most likely her way of a shot at a compliment. “Thanks.” You said. “Ok wens we should go now.” Enid said dragging Wednesday behind her. “Horrified to meet you Wednesday.” You said, she peered over her shoulder and smirked, that gave you hope in possibly being on her good side. The door closes behind them and you paced to the middle of the room. ‘Guess I should consolidate with the staff.’ You thought with a sigh. “You will be fine, I know you don’t like talking to people but I’ll be right there the whole time, just waiting in the car.” She said. “I’m so nervous.” You expressed fixing your necklace in the mirror. “I know but you will feel so happy and relieved when you’re done.” She said standing behind you giving a squeeze to your shoulders. “What if they say they don’t want me as an employee?” You asked. “They would be silly not to consider you.” She said guiding you towards the door. In the end you got your first job at the mayor’s office as the receptionist, all thanks to the encouragement of her.
A while later finally finished meeting and greeting a few of the staff to let them know you will be staying for the week, all of them looked at you sympathetically as if they felt sorry for you, but you knew even when Larissa didn’t express it, that not one of them knew her or even cared enough try take some of the schools stress off her. You saw how it would take a toll, how tired she would be but never gave up and she never gave up on you. “Try again.” She nodded. You shifted for the second time and became the spitting image of your father. “Oh dear-.” She laughed, you cackled at the situation. “Out of everyone to pick.” She continued to laugh. “Ok your turn auntie lissa.” Your 15 year old self said shifting back to yourself and perching on her bed.
You hadn’t bothered to go backdown to the car and bring up your bags yet, when you return into the office you go straight to her quarters door. That damn door, how a piece of wood can be so imposing is beyond you, although once the door is unlocked and the hinges creak open you may never walk back out. You slid the key into the hole and twisted until it unlocked, you lent up against the architrave and observed the room, again everything in its place. Pacing inside you went and flopped on her bed, toeing off your heels and kicking them off the mattress, you snatched one of her pillows and hold it to yourself curling your legs up towards your stomach.
For the next hour you laid in the same position hugging onto the pillow like a life line, her sent still remaining. Pachouli, bergamot, vanilla and almost the faint smell of English breakfast tea. You scrolled through the photos in your phone’s gallery, seeing the ones from when you were born and an early twenties Larissa holding you, looking down at you as if her whole world just lit up. The timeline continued on all the way up to your early graduation from college, with Larissa holding onto your waist and you with an arm slung around her shoulders. You turn off your phone and break down sobbing into the pillow.
———
Two days have passed and all you had done is go through Larissa’s photos, clothes, trinkets and make up. You would take one piece of jewellery and wear it during the day just to feel a little bit closer to her, then when night came you would place it back in the exact spot you had taken it from. Nothing was boxed or packed, you couldn’t find it within you to place her things in a crammed space and send them home, this is what she has to show for her life and packing it away didn’t feel like an option.
Over the next two days you hung out with Wednesday and Enid, taking them into town, going to the weathervane, or just for a drive. You never really noticed how much you missed nevermore until now, unless perhaps it wasn’t the school that you truly missed, the memories are bittersweet, only now do they feel tarnished and painful, nevertheless it’s nice to know that you have a home a true home that comes with a chosen family, on the outings with the girls you were mistaken for being Enid’s older sister, to which you’d correct, though the mistake can be made since she’s 16 and you 23, only 7 years apart.
Returning back to school grounds you opted for a walk down to the lake, it felt like just yesterday you had won the Poe cup, having Larissa cheer you on from the side lines. You remember that even before you celebrated with your team you ran straight to her and embraced her with a joyful scream. It was nearing dawn and you decided to go back to your- her room, where you could use sleep as a procrastination.
“Larissa I’m an adult I can do anything I want!” You yelled. “Yes daring I know that but-.” She began. “No! Stop trying to keep me here, I want to go and experience things myself, I will not be rooted in one place like you, I actually need a life!” You exclaimed. Larissa straightened up and cleared her face of hurt emotions, turning into a stern look. “Fine.” She said. Your stomach churned. How disappointed she is. However you stuck it out and left, but before you could reach the door Larissa stopped you and wrapped her arms around your neck and breathed an I love you, one you didn’t return.
You sat up straight in bed gasping as the memory fades from your eyes, you look around to see the dimly lit room still and quiet through watery vision. “I’m sorry.” You whispered into the room. “I’m so so sorry… I love you too, I love you so much.” You said with your voice breaking and your throat sore. It displayed 3:02am on the clock resting on the bedside, you dragged yourself up and out of the tangled sheets to make a tea for yourself wrapping a blanket over your shoulders and back to keep warm.
With the beverage in hand you sat on the floor leaning against the end of the bed in front of the fire place, you were exhausted, the loop of the memory on repeat making every run through more painful. It was true the whole thing was real, you had been irrationally irritable that day, when you visited Larissa to tell her you were thinking of travelling alone across the world, the worst part was that Larissa was the one who actually encouraged you to travel and explore but to be careful and safe and yet you threw her support and generosity and care back in her face as if she were a monster. 
It only took 2 weeks until you were back in contact with one another, Larissa was relieved to know you were ok and you were relieved she forgave you as well as listened to every ‘I’m sorry’ you had to offer. Turns out going back to London to pack and prepare without her wasn’t fun or adventurous at all, if you were to do something, anything, you wanted to share the experience with her, because Larissa wasn’t just your aunt, no, she was practically your mother, roll model and your best friend. That was the last time you visibly saw her, two whole years ago, you would do anything to go back and wrap yourself around her frame and never let her go.
With the tea finished and cup discarded, you went back to bed in hopes of a restful sleep, but of course you weren’t that lucky. The next morning you felt tired and drained in every way, you spent the day walking the grounds, visiting Ophelia hall to see Wednesday and Enid, and finally ending the day with sitting on the floor of Larissa’s walk in closet to flip through the box she kept her year book, newspaper clippings and sentimental things, but it wasn’t just hers it was your things to, the nevermore newspaper from 6 years ago when you had been early excepted into a prestigious university, the hair clips she would put in your hair every time she came to visit when you were little, Polaroids from over the years and dated notes from significant days in the past.
“Y/n, are you ok sweetheart?” She asked looking up at you from her arm chair in the corner of her room. “Yeah…” you said quietly, looking down. “I wanna tell you something.” You murmured. Larissa slotted the bookmark in between the pages of her book and gave you her undivided attention, you pulled out a piece of paper and gave it to her to unfold. “I can’t say it.” You said pacing about the room. You could hear her unfolding the paper and the silence that followed, but a giggle interrupted the raging thoughts in your mind. “Oh darling… that’s ok, that’s wonderful, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me such a thing. Come here.” She said, you turned and walked to her with your head down, as you sat lightly on her lap snuggled into her chest and tightly wrapped arms, she spoke again. “I love you no matter who or what you love, if you’re interested in girls or boys, vampires or werewolves I don’t mind……. can I tell you a secret?” She asked. “Yeah.” Larissa inhaled and slowly exhaled before she whispered in your ear. “Really?!” You said sitting upright. “Mhmm.” She smiled. “Oh, I was wondering why you didn’t like that nice man we spoke to at the grocery store the other day.” You said, in response Larissa laughed.
11/5/2019- y/n came out to me!
You traced her cursive handwriting at the bottom of the note you handed to her that day with a smile and placed it back in the box as well as putting the lid back on. Standing back up and turning the light off, you had a strange feeling that something wasn’t right, but ignored it. You grabbed the blanket from the bed and threw it over yourself going towards the office to turn off the lamps and stoke the fire before a knock on the door was heard. Walking over to it you opened the door to be met with one of the staff holding a few papers.
“Evening y/n, these were dropped off this afternoon, I thought I should bring them to you… sorry it’s late and I interrupted.” She said holding out the stack. “No it’s ok Melanie, I appreciate that thank you.” You said taking papers. “You have a relaxing night.” She said turning on her heels to leave. “You too.” You said closing the door. Wonderful, just what you wanted, letters with principal applicants, schedules of new school developments, an obituary form and a mediocre memorial service for Larissa. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You said. Somehow you internally corrected yourself with the word ‘language’ as if you could hear the statement about to come from her.
Another knock, you rolled your eyes. “Come in.” Nothing but a stretch of silence. “Melanie, if you forgot to tell me something you can come in.” You said walking back to the door. Nothing could have prepared you for what lye behind it, you opened the door and the wind was knocked from you lungs. No. This isn’t real. “Wow, I’m going insane.” You said peering into those bright cerulean eyes, dropping the blanket from your shoulders. When her hand extended to cup your cheek, almost immediately tears ran down your cheeks. “You’re not real.” You breathe. She stepped closer to run her other hand over your hair. You could feel her. You could see her. You could smell her.
You stood still as if you could blink to hard and she’d be gone. “Hello my darling girl.” She said with a smile. As brief as it may be and as much as you didn’t want to you rubbed your eyes knowing she will be gone in a moment trying to flea from this torment…and yet her grip stayed prominent, her smell still lingers and her form remained. You were in pure shock, you brought your shaking hands to her face to trace at it just to be sure. She was there, she was here, she was home and she was finally back exactly where she’s supposed to be, with you.
“I have a lot to explain, but firstly…” she began. “I love you.”
@sabraaabra
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neonghostlights · 9 months
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Chapter Five: A Date, a Message, and The End
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Summary: Eddie Munson left you behind to chase his dreams before suddenly disappearing. When he shows up 5 years later, will he be able to work his way back into your heart?
Warnings: Food/Eating, Rude behavior about homelessness (Not R or Eddie), R is called a mean name, Arguing, Cussing, Miscommunication, Hospitals, Medical Scares, Heart Attacks, Brief mention of addiction, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI
Wordcount: 5.9k
Series Masterlist
September 1991
The man you sat across was talking about numbers. Maybe the stock market? Or maybe he was just rambling random words to see if you were paying attention. 
You weren’t sure. 
You twirled your fork in some pasta and shoved it in your mouth. Maybe that would be a good enough excuse to not respond to him. 
He laughed at something and you smiled and nodded. He seemed happy that you agreed with whatever he had said. You hoped it wasn’t anything detrimental. 
Lissa had talked you into this. After almost two months of moping she had all but shoved you into a cute outfit and forced you on this date. You and Lissa had actually gotten into the worst fight you’d ever had over it. She was just concerned about you, you knew that now. But you just weren’t ready. 
In the end you let her win. 
The guy seemed nice at first, walking up to your apartment with flowers and a charming smile. But he lacked that spark. Or maybe it was you. You weren’t sure at this point.
John is his name. He’s a little bit older than you and works in investments or something with numbers and math. He’s a friend of Lissa’s roommate's cousin.
He wears overpowering cologne like he wants to make sure everyone in this restaurant is aware of his presence. You were definitely aware of him and not in a good way. How could you not be with his fancy suit and charming smile?
He said the right things when you were listening enough to catch them. Truly a gentleman, he held open doors for you whether it was to his expensive car or the restaurant. 
But he wasn’t Eddie. 
Eddie, who had ripped out your heart once again after years of perfecting your walls and building your hard exterior. 
It had been nearly two months since you saw him. You replayed that night and the following morning repeatedly in your head until you had picked apart every second of your interaction. You wish you could play your memories on your tv screen so that you could rewind and fastforward through certain parts. Maybe then you could see how obvious it was that he was lying to your face. 
He promised he would call and make things right. But he never did. 
When you came back from California you still had the scent of him on your body. You were still hopeful and dreaming about what things might mean for the two of you. Now you felt bitter and rotten on the inside. 
Even though the wound wasn’t physical it still left a scar. 
You couldn’t just sit around anymore and cry about how he lied or used you for the night like you were just some toy to be played with. So you were trying to ‘move on’, whatever that meant. Even though your couch and a pint of ice cream were calling your name so loudly you could hear it all the way at the restaurant. 
There was an elderly couple in the corner of the room with their wrinkled hands clasped together tightly on the table. They smiled at each other fondly as they spoke. You wondered what they were talking about. Was it some funny memory from their youth that they were sharing? Or was it a story of something one of their grandchildren had done recently? 
You wondered what it would be like to be loved by someone who meant it. Having a love like that wasn’t ever something you had been envious of before. 
The cruel image came to your mind so clearly, you at dinner with your husband of many years who happened to look strikingly like Eddie. The both of you sharing memories of a long life together. 
“Are you ready to go?” 
“Hm?” You hummed, attention being drawn away from the pair you were staring at. You met John’s eyes as he gave you a curious look. 
He waved the receipt in the air. “I asked if you were ready to go. I already paid.”
You nodded, embarrassed that he had caught you zoned out.
John drove a fancy red car. You weren’t sure what kind it was, but based on the looks of the people passing by on the street it had to be a good one. He played soft music and kept it down at a normal level so you could both speak without having to yell. 
For some reason, it didn’t feel right. You still faked a smile though. 
You were so excited to see your apartment building that you threw the car door open before it was even in park. 
You were only a few steps from the building door when he caught up to you.
“Are we in a rush?” He asked with a laugh as he followed you into the building. You wished you were brave enough to ask him to stay downstairs. Maybe you could smile when you reached your apartment door, say you had a great time, and make plans to do this again even though you already knew you would end up faking an illness to get out of it before avoiding his calls completely until he got the hint. 
“Something like that,” you muttered, hoping that he would leave quietly after just getting a polite handshake. 
You sighed in relief after getting off the stairs and walking down the carpeted hallway to your oasis. You dug the keys out of your purse, not bothering to look up as you approached your door. 
You heard a scoff come from John beside you. 
“Is there a problem with homeless people squatting in your building?” 
That question caught you off guard. 
“Homeless? No. I-” 
Your voice died in your throat when you saw who was sitting cross legged across from your apartment door. 
He stood quickly when he saw you, brushing off the back of his dark jeans. 
“Hey,” he said tentatively. His wide brown eyes darted between you and John quickly like he was trying to solve some sort of riddle. 
“Eddie?” You gasped when your brain processed that it was really him. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean what am I doing here? I told you I was going to come back.”
“I’m sorry. You know the homeless man?” John interrupted. 
“He is not homeless,” you snapped at John, the grooves of your apartment key bit into your hand sharply. 
“Who the hell is this?” Eddie asked, stepping up beside you defensively when he noticed the frustrated tone of your voice towards your date. 
“This is my date John. And he was just leaving,” you announced, eyeing John sharply so he would get the blatant clue to get the hell out. 
“My name is James,” he scowled before stomping off.. You could’ve sworn you heard him mumble the words ‘dumb bitch’ under his breath. 
Unfazed by John/James’s dramatics, you crossed your arms, looking Eddie up and down from his boots to his black t-shirt and to his curly hair.  “Why are you here?” 
Eddie looked hurt by your words, his face falling. “I told you I would come back.”
You let out a dark laugh as you unlocked your door and walked inside your apartment. Eddie followed behind you, not bothering to wait for you to invite him in. 
“Nice place,” he hummed as he looked around. 
Junie sped into the living room and sniffed at Eddie’s legs. 
“This must be Junie,” he cooed as he scooped her up. 
You were pissed at your heart for getting excited over him remembering your cat's name after just one conversation about her. 
He must have seen the seething look on your face. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to save money for the ticket since I don’t have a car and I couldn’t just leave my roommate with the rent short and-“
“You never called!” You blurted out, cutting off his rambling. He remained calm through your outburst as he set Junie down gently. She flopped over at his feet and purred loudly at him. 
Traitor.
 “You told me you would call and you never did!” You continued. You were probably too loud for the thin apartment walls but you didn’t have much in you to worry about Mrs. Jones filing a noise complaint right now. 
It didn’t matter that he was standing here looking like he belonged in your apartment, like he should have been here all along. It didn’t matter that the look on his face could only be described as heartbroken. You were pissed at the amount of audacity he had to just show up here and act like everything was okay. 
Your heart was supposed to be untouchable and the one person who cracked through it thought they could just treat you however they wanted to. 
How could he stand here two months later and pretend that everything was okay? Like you should be jumping with joy to see him right now? 
You never wanted to feel the way Eddie had continuously made you feel ever again. You had wanted for so long for him to come back but now you just wanted him gone again. It was an awful thing to think, but part of you regretted even speaking from him at that restaurant in California. If you knew then what you know now, you would have just pretended to not know him at all. 
You mentally kissed the image of the elderly couple goodbye. That would never be you and Eddie like you had immaturely hoped.
“I tried calling you,” he said in a sad, even voice. “You know that right? I tried calling you every damn day. I left you messages. You didn’t pick up and I got worried.”
“I didn’t get any calls, Eddie. I would know if you called me.” You shook your head at him in disbelief that he could think that you were that stupid. 
“I know,” he said, still calm as ever as he pulled the paper out of his pocket that you had written your phone number down on back at the hotel. He unfolded it, the lines in the paper creased and faded from being handled so much. “Look at the numbers here. What does that look like to you?” 
“My phone number?” You asked, not sure where he was going with this. 
“Look at the last two numbers,” he urged gently. 
“It looks like…oh.” You grabbed the paper out of his hand and held it up to your face. Sure enough, the last two digits looked like scribbles, not numbers. 
“I thought that was an eight but when I went to Wayne’s earlier today and told him that you weren’t answering my calls he told me that it was actually a six,” Eddie said as he pointed at the offending numbers. 
“Oh my god,” you sighed, hanging your head in defeat and embarrassment before popping it back up to look at him. In your rush to make it downstairs in time to catch your flight you had jotted the numbers down in a hurry. You never checked to make sure they were actually legible. “Wait, you saw Wayne today?”
“Yeah, I was going to call him and make sure you were okay but you had warned me about his heart so I just wanted to wait to see him in person and hopefully try not to surprise him too badly. Turns out he wasn’t even that shocked to see me because you had warned him. So thank you for that,” Eddie said with a smile. “It was really good to see him.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Here in Indiana? Since this morning. I’ve been waiting outside your apartment for about an hour though. Wayne let me borrow his truck to come see you.” He inched towards you. You could tell that he wanted to touch you but you backed away from him instead. He looked at you with a confused frown. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to save up money.”
“You already said that.” You reminded him blandly. 
Eddie flinched at your tone. “Why are you mad at me? I came back like I promised.”
“Because it shouldn’t hurt this bad,” you exclaimed. 
“What shouldn’t hurt this bad?”
“You. Me. All of it. I shouldn’t have felt the way I felt because you didn’t call me. I felt like that in college when you disappeared for the first time and I promised myself it would never ever happen again. And look at me! One night with you and I went right back to the way I was! Sad and pathetic. And I can not do that again, Eddie. I just can’t.” You were crying and out of breath. You were certain your make up was probably smeared down your face but you didn’t care anymore. 
“It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t not call you on purpose! I told you I was going to make things right. You should have known I wouldn’t lie to you!” Eddie’s voice was raised now too as he tried to get his point across. 
“That’s the thing! I didn’t know because you’ve been so unreliable that you saying things you don’t mean is all I have ever known since I met you!” You spat back at him. 
“I’m not like that anymore,” Eddie said in a firm, loud voice. 
Before you could even get another word in you were cut off by a loud banging on the wall. Mrs. Jones was probably tired of your yelling, and honestly you couldn’t blame her. 
You closed your eyes for a second, willing yourself to calm down. 
“I think you should leave,” you said in an eerily calm voice as you walked towards the apartment door to open it. 
Eddie stood there and just stared at you for a second, trying to make sure you were actually being serious. He shook his head before walking to the door. He paused in front of you and leaned in close. 
“I just want you to know I meant every word I said to you that night. I know I hurt you again but I promise you it wasn’t on purpose. And I know you’re scared of everything you’re feeling right now but if you change your mind I’ll be at Wayne’s.” He said in an almost whisper before walking out the door. 
You slammed the door shut as soon as he passed through it, not wanting to watch him walk away from you. 
You let out a frustrated groan as you knocked your head against the door. Junie corralled at your feet, sick and tired of the lack of attention she had received in the last five minutes. She meowed loudly, pulling you out of your self loathing. 
“I know,” you mumbled at her as you walked to the kitchen to fill up her food bowl. 
As much as you wanted to curl up in your bed and replay your argument over and over again, you couldn’t. Junie’s needs came before everything else. 
You paused at the phone on the way to the cat food, hitting the button to the answering machine so you could listen while you took care of Junie. 
The first message was Lissa asking you to call her when your date was over. 
The second message was your aunt asking you if you were going to make it to the family reunion this year. 
The third message had you popping your head up to stare at the machine with your hand frozen in the bag of cat food. 
“Hey, uh, it’s Wayne. I just wanted to let you know Eddie showed up this morning. I should have called and let you know sooner but time got away from me. Don’t be mad but I sent him up your way to see you. He’s been talking about you since he got here. Apparently you don’t know how to write your number down correctly or something,” Wayne laughed before he continued,  “Anyways, I just wanted to tell you to try to go easy on him when he gets there. For my sake. I’ll talk to you later. Oh, and please do not get me anymore of those god awful protein drinks. They taste like shit. Bye.”
You laughed at Wayne’s words until it wasn’t funny anymore, and you were just left with the hurt in your chest. 
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The next day you were surprised to see a note waiting for you on your desk when you got into the office. The words blurred so much that you had to squint to read it because of the pounding in your head and swelling in your face. There had been a lot of tears shed last night after Eddie left, so much that you almost didn’t come into work that day. 
You had this feeling in your bones ever since Eddie walked out of your apartment that made your skin crawl. It made you want to scream.  
You walked to your boss’s office with the note clutched tightly in your hand. There was a bit of fear that shocked through you over what the meeting was for. You tried to remember any time you might have messed up catastrophically in the past few weeks but drew a blank. 
Your boss seemed to be in a good mood when she asked you to come in and have a seat across from her at her desk. You did as she asked, muscles locked so tightly that you moved like a stiff board. 
She looked at you warily. “Are you feeling okay today?”
‘I’m great. My ex boyfriend that broke my heart five years ago reappeared during that business trip we were on in California. He fucked me like he loved me and then never called me, which sent me into a spiraling depression. Oh, and it turns out the reason he never called is all my fault so instead of owning up to my mistake I kicked him out of my apartment like a coward’, you wanted to say. 
“Just a little bit of a headache,” you replied with a smile that seemed more like a grimace. 
“Right. Well, I have some good news for you. After much careful consideration we have decided to give you the promotion,” she said in a cheerful voice. “I know you’re the perfect fit and I think the relocation would be great for you.”
Joy and surprise were your first emotions, followed by utter confusion. 
“Wait. What relocation?”
“To the branch in Seattle? Did you not read the memo we sent out months ago?” Her mouth twisted to the side as she regarded you.
“I-No. Sorry, I must have missed that,” you admitted shyly. The arms of the chair bit into your palms from the way you grasped them so tightly. 
She paused for a moment before speaking again. “If you want, I can give you some time to think about it. But I really need an answer by this evening. I know it’s a big decision so how about you take the rest of the day off and think about it. Okay?” 
You nodded before standing up numbly from the cushioned chair and grabbing your things. 
You spent the rest of your evening thinking of reasons to stay. 
This move could be everything for you. You could get a cute little apartment there and fill it up with plants. Seattle supposedly had good music and coffee, or at least it did in the movies. What more could you want? 
You’d have the chance to get out of Indiana. 
Your parents would be fine. They were always confused as to why you stayed so close to home anyways. 
Lissa could come visit you whenever she wanted. She would put up a fight at first but you knew that she would end up loving it. 
The only thing that could possibly hold you back was Wayne. But he really didn’t need you anymore either. Eddie was back and perfectly capable of stepping up and helping his uncle like he should have been all along. 
That made the only thing holding you back was you and your fear. 
You reached for the phone to call your boss to enthusiastically accept the position but before you could pick it up and make the call, it rang.
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You made the drive back to Hawkins in half the time. 
You replayed Eddie’s frantic voice over and over again in your head. Only bits and pieces of what he had said was clear but you had heard enough to understand what he was trying to tell you. 
“Heart attack- Chest pain- Wayne- Hospital.”
That was all you needed to hear before grabbing your keys and rushing out of the door. 
Your knuckles ached from how hard you were gripping the steering wheel. It was some miracle that you hadn’t gotten pulled over for your speed because you were well over the limit. 
The tires to your car squealed loudly as you pulled into the hospital parking lot, like some sort of sick announcement of your arrival. 
The smell of bleach and illness smacked you in the nose as you skidded through the automatic doors of the emergency room. You didn’t even have to stop at the desk because Eddie’s disheveled appearance was a beacon to you. 
“Eddie,” you breathed out as you rushed towards him. 
He was about to wear a hole in the floor from his pacing. The brown curly strands of hair stuck up slightly at the top of his hair from where he had run his hand through it repeatedly. 
His shoulders and chest visibly deflated when he saw you and he stopped his frantic movements. 
“What happened?” You asked when you reached him, guiding him towards an empty chair and sitting beside him. He grabbed onto your hand tightly. 
It felt right so you let him. 
“He was fine. I was making dinner and he was telling me a story about work then all of a sudden he grabbed his chest and said it hurt. I rode with him in the ambulance and they said it might be another heart attack. I’ve never seen him like that.”  
You had seen Wayne like that once before. It was terrifying to see someone you cared for look so scared. 
“They took him back to a room and told me they’d come out here and tell me when they know something,” he continued.
“He’s tough. He’s probably back there arguing with them,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. 
Eddie let out a little laugh that sounded more like a cough. “You’re right.”
You both sat in silence. Eddie continuously tapped his foot against the ground because no matter how old he got he could never sit still. His movements comforted you though. 
The day Eddie Munson sat still would be the day hell froze over. 
You were violently aware of both of your hands clasped together tightly. Two clammy palms pressed to each other for strength. 
As if he could tell you were thinking about it, he gave your hand a squeeze.
You squeezed back. 
Two hours passed in that waiting room. At some point your head ended up on Eddie’s shoulder. You really did try not to doze off. It would be wrong to fall asleep while Wayne was back in that room. 
Your mind was processing a lot at that moment. The whole scare with Wayne had given you some clarity on your situation. It made you realize what you really wanted. 
You lost the battle against your eyelids. Between the mental exhaustion of the past two days and Eddie’s rhythmic tapping you felt your consciousness start to slip. 
“Munson?”
Your eyes snapped open and you lifted your head off of Eddie’s shoulder. You didn’t know how long you had dozed off for but the ache in your neck told you it had been a while. 
You and Eddie shared a look before you both jumped up and approached the doctor in the white coat. 
“That’s us,” you said with a wave. 
“Perfect. Good news. Mr. Munson did not have a heart attack tonight. Looks like it could have been something muscular. Was he doing any heavy lifting recently?”
“Uh, he was pulling out some old boxes earlier today,” Eddie said with a furrowed brow. 
You shot Eddie a look. Wayne knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing that.  
“We’re going to keep him overnight for some testing just to be sure. We’ll have him discharged in the morning. You can go back and see him really quick,” the doctor said with a smile before she trotted away. 
Before you could stop yourself you pulled Eddie into a hug. 
“He’s okay,” Eddie muttered. 
“He’s okay. Go see him and then I can give you a ride home,” you said as you patted Eddie’s back and shoved him towards Wayne’s room. 
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The drive back to the trailer was quiet at first, neither of you knowing quite what to say. 
Wayne practically pushed Eddie out of the hospital room and told him to go home and sleep. You didn’t go back there to bother him, but Eddie said he looked fine and was already counting down the hours until he could be discharged in the morning. 
You  needed to say something to Eddie though. The silence was killing you. 
“I got the promotion,” you spoke into the darkness. You weren’t sure if you were reminding yourself or telling Eddie. 
His smile lit up the inside of the car. “That’s great!”
You shrugged. 
His smile slowly dropped. “What’s wrong?”
“They want me to move to Seattle and work at the branch there.”
Eddie was silent. 
You glanced over him nervously, just to see him staring straight ahead at the road. He didn’t say anything else about it so you left it alone. The wheels were visibly turning in his head though. How cruel was it that he came back just for you to be the one that left this time. 
Maybe you and Eddie were always meant to be two ships passing in the night. 
“It’s late,” Eddie announced as soon as you pulled into the trailer park. Like there was some way you hadn’t noticed that tired burn in your eyes and the prominent moon in the sky. 
“It is,” you agreed as you put your car in park. 
“Do you wanna stay the night? I mean it’s just a far drive and you’re obviously tired…”
“I can stay,” you said with a soft smile. 
Eddie gave a quick nod before climbing out of the car and you followed silently behind him into the trailer. 
“Wayne gave me my room back. Well, turns out it was always my room because he refused to use it. I have my stuff everywhere but you can use it for the night if you want and I can just-”
Eddie was rambling. But there was something you needed to tell him and you weren’t quite sure how to get it across to him. You rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 
Eddie froze, unsure of what just happened before he wrapped his arms around you too. 
“What is this for?” He said with a sigh. 
In that tense hospital waiting room you had realized something.
 Eddie had changed for the better. In a moment of disaster he called you. You, who he was currently holding on to like his life depended on. 
Eddie didn’t have to come back from California but he did. 
He chose you.
And you were choosing him too. 
“I’m sorry,” you said. His arms relaxed around you, allowing you to lean back to look at him. 
“It’s not a big deal. I’ve definitely slept on worse than that couch,” he laughed, not understanding what you were apologizing for. . 
“No. I’m sorry about yelling at you yesterday and not bothering to listen to you. You were right about me being scared. I’m terrified of being hurt again. You have no clue how much over the past five years I pushed everyone away and then you show back up and everything changes.” You sighed, looking up at his face. “I’m scared, Eddie.”
“I never planned on leaving you ever again. I know I fucked up and I know I have a lot of making up to do. I think Seattle will be good for you and as much as it hurts to see you leave I’m happy for you.” 
“I’m not going.”
“Why not?” He questioned. 
“Because I want to try this again and I can’t do that across the country. If you still want me, that is.” You were suddenly shy under his gaze. Maybe it was too late for another chance. 
Instead of answering, he brought his face down to yours, kissing you soft and slow. It wasn’t a bruising kiss but the passion was still there. 
“I don’t want you to ever think for a second that I don’t want you.” 
“I can’t believe you came back,” you muttered as you pulled away from him slightly. He didn’t let you get far. 
It still felt like a dream, like you would wake up and Eddie had truly never been found. But he was here and you were tired of running from your feelings. You were going to charge into your love for him. If it burnt you then it burnt you. At least you could say that you tried. 
“I told you I would.” His hand rubbed your cheek softly.  
“If we’re going to do this then we’re going to do it slowly,” you demanded, eyes laser focused on him to make sure he understood. 
“That sounds okay to me,” he agreed with a dreamy smile. 
You leaned into him without any thought about it. 
In July 1986, Eddie had broken your heart. He had good intentions, you knew that now but you had let the hurt consume you for the past five years. With everything you did, Eddie stayed as a never ending presence in the back of your mind. Even then, when he was leaving, he promised you he would come back for you. 
It may have taken him longer than he expected, but he did keep his promise. 
“Can I be selfish for tonight though and have you hold me?” You asked, your heart held out towards him between your hands. 
“I think I can allow that.”
And there in Eddie's bedroom, where it ended all those years ago, it began again. 
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August 1992
You wiped the sweat off your brow with the back of your hand before it could run into your eyes. Gritting your teeth, you pulled the last box out the back of your car. 
The long awaited moving day had taken a lot of you. You never realize how much shit you have until you have to pack it all into boxes and load it into a trunk. 
Even worse if you’re doing it all on your own. 
You stood in the middle of your new living room, looking over all of the boxes you had dragged in with your hands on your hips. 
Junie, who was happy to be out of her carrier, rubbed against your legs. 
“Can you believe we did this all by ourselves?” You cooed at her. “We are strong, independent, and don’t need a-”
“What the hell, babe?” Eddie grunted out as he dragged the dining room table through the door with Gareth pushing the other side. “What happened to you waiting for me before you started unloading the boxes?”
“You were taking too long,” you said with a shrug as you watched them struggle. 
“Blame Gareth,” he muttered before leaning down and giving you a sweaty kiss. 
“Yeah, well, you try looking your daughter in the eye and telling her that you can’t stay and play with dolls because you have to go help uncle Eddie move all of his shit instead,” Gareth replied in a playful tone. 
Gareth and Eddie had reconciled about six months after his return. It worried you at first that Eddie would fall back into his old ways but Gareth had matured himself and now had a wife and a kid. 
“That’s why you should have hired some movers or people who know what they’re doing. Watching these two load up that truck was painful,” Wayne announced as he walked through the door empty handed. He had insisted he show up to help move even though he would just be supervising. 
You smiled at them as you watched them all bicker. 
A year ago, you and Eddie had decided to take things slow. And you did for the most part. 
Eddie proved to you over and over again how he had changed, and how he meant what he said about sticking around. You were able to build up a strong and loving relationship together that surpassed anything you had when you were younger. 
So when he proposed to you a month ago, on the anniversary of his return, you said yes. 
And when you mentioned buying this house that you had passed by on your many trips back and forth from your apartment to Wayne’s, he said yes. 
He got a job at the mechanics shop in town shortly after he came back to you. The pay wasn’t amazing but it turned out he was really good with cars. Using that money he was able to buy himself a new truck and with your combined income, you were able to buy a home together. 
Eddie had even started volunteering on the side to counsel youth that struggled with addiction. It made you so happy to see how involved he was in helping people get better. 
You had declined the promotion at work last year after you had spent the night with Eddie. It was the first thing you did after waking up in his arms. You had jumped out of bed so quickly to run to the phone that Eddie thought something was wrong. 
Your boss was disappointed in your decision, but the job was passed to Vance instead who was more than happy to take the position. 
The front door swung open again to reveal Lissa holding a bottle of wine and her girlfriend Robin trailing behind her. 
“We’re here to do nothing!” She called out as she walked in and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. 
Things had been going so well between Robin and Lissa that you had a feeling Lissa would be making a move down to Hawkins soon herself. 
You just laughed and shook your head, collapsing into the chair Eddie had brought in for you. 
You caught Eddie’s stare from across the room as he set a heavy box on the ground. The glint in his eye told you he was thinking the same thing as you. 
Here you were, in your new home with all of the people you had allowed into your heart. Later that evening, after everyone else had left and you and Eddie were mostly settled, you thought about how far you and Eddie had both come and how thankful you were that he finally came back to you. 
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gummibrr · 4 months
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Woah! Im posting again. The holidays are right around the corner and am enthralled by the Nutcracker ballet. Not only that but also a forever favorite fic Making a Monster by @absurdmageart!
They're an amazing writer and artist, check them out!
Aside that I'm enchanted by Wine and in combination of both hyperfixations I did reader-insert Lissa as Clara and Wine as the nutcracker solider!
Anyways thanks y'all and see you!
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fe-fictions · 9 months
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How about a story where Robin is dating someone else and Frederick is pining in the background, wallowing how he missed his shot to confess after the war. Yet, he overhears Robin's lover saying that he's only dating Robin to get close to Ylissean's elite. *Holds hands up in prayer* Please make it happen!
(I wrote this for sooo long and it got so much longer than I meant to...it just feels so nice to be writing for Frederick again ;; U ;; )
He was never the type to be regretful, or feel like he’d missed something important. No, he did his best to live honorably and live his life to the absolute fullest.
The struggle came when he realized he had feelings for you. Feelings that he was determined to push aside until the war ended, until things had calmed down enough that he could plan a proper path to courtship with you.
But the knight had taken too long. When he finally felt that he was ready to tell you, he discovered that you were in a relationship with one of the soldiers that had fought valiantly.
In fact, there was little Frederick could find wrong with him; he was charming and kind, friendly with everyone he met, and especially gracious around nobility and royalty among the ranks. Not only that, but he did had a terrible habit of making you laugh quite easily.
Frederick would be lying if he said it didn’t drive him up a wall. The man was quite talented when it came to getting under the lieutenant’s skin, and he was making it even more difficult for him to get any closer to you. 
After all, you were already a high profile individual, so your free time was sparse. But now, the time that you had once spent training him to stomach bear meat and helping him put out and start the camp fires had suddenly disappeared.
Chrom was the first to notice the sudden distance being put between his lieutenant and tactician, although that was namely because of how much more often your new beau had been making an appearance.
The pair of men were sitting in the prince’s tent, enjoying a rousing game of chess, when his Exalt brought the subject up.
“So…Robin’s new relationship is rather…interesting, isn’t it?”
Frederick hoped the twitch of his eye did not betray his otherwise flawless poker face. He moved his rook forward.
“It is certainly quite the change of pace for Robin, yes. It seems that they get along well.”
“I suppose so, yes…but sometimes, I do wonder about his intentions.” Chrom replied, moving his own piece as he spoke.
“What do you mean, milord? You think his intentions with Robin are malicious?”
“Not necessarily malicious, no…but I do not believe his motivations are purely because he wishes to court Robin.”
“Please elaborate, milord.”
“Well, he seems to have taken a lot of interest in the nobility, lately. He’ll tag along with Robin to a council meeting or training session, but he’ll usually float off to speak with Maribelle, or Sumia…sometimes, he’ll corner Lissa.”
“Corner?” Frederick echoed, bristling, “You mean he is trying to ‘play the field’ with the the noblewomen of your court, Prince Chrom? That is unacceptable! Not only because it is harassment towards those fine women, but also because he's taking advantage of Robin!”
“Now, don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Frederick.” Chrom quickly cut in before Frederick could throw in another passionate paragraph about the virtues this man clearly lacked.
The knight huffed, trying his best to retain his patience (and failing).
“I can’t prove anything. I just know what I saw. If his intentions are beyond Robin, we’ll need to figure out what he wants.”
“I will conduct a most in-depth investigation, milord. You needn’t worry.” Frederick rose from his seat, bowing deeply to Chrom. “ I will personally investigate the matter at hand and return with results immediately!”
“But the game isn’t…ah, nevermind.” Chrom sighed, starting to reset the board after the tent flap closed. “You’ve always had one hells of a soft spot for her, anyway.”
------------------------
If there was one thing that everyone around you knew, it was that you always knew more than you let on...and such knowledge you withheld should never be tested.
While the war was over and there was no longer any need for such a keen eye while everyone made the long journey home…you did find that it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the behavior your lover was portraying.
It started with small mentions of your relationship with the royal family. How you and Chrom seemed to be quite close, and how Lissa got on with you well.
Maribelle was the next mentioned, followed by Sumia, and Ricken…
It didn’t take long to notice his fascination seemed solely focused on the wealthiest of the Shepherds, rather than the whole of your friend group.
He had little interest in Frederick, Vaike, or Stahl…at first you wondered if it was because they were men…but then you realized they weren’t exactly of “noble” birth.
But you opted to ignore it, since he would let the subject go whenever you expressed interest in speaking of something else.
But then he would invite himself into meetings or conversations when you were standing next to them.
If Maribelle and Ricken were talking about strategies for rebuillding the Ylissean economy, it wouldn’t take long for him to appear and start to engage the pair and leave you behind.
Baking with Sumia? He was an excellent baking assistant (for Sumia).
Planning pranks on Virion with Lissa? He had just the thing to really get under the archer’s skin…
It was becoming stifling.
The one thing you were grateful for was that he never seemed able to get close to Chrom, as hard as he tried.
You supposed you had Frederick to thank for that. He didn’t seem fond of your choice in boyfriend, even though his only flaw was he seemed to be overly curious about the wealthier individuals.
“I’ve been meaning to ask…” You had him on a walk one afternoon, doing a lazy patrol of the camp while they set up for the night. “Are you happy with me?”
He seemed genuinely stunned when you asked that, a bewildered smile on his lips.
“Why, whatever do you mean? I find myself enraptured with you more and more with every passing day.”
“I would be inclined to believe that, if I didn’t find you gallivanting around with practically every other Shepherd except for me.”
“What? I’m certain that’s not true.”
“Whenever I’m with Lissa or Sumia, you’re chatting with them like I’m not there. And if Ricken comes over, you’re slinging your arm around his shoulders and carting him away before I can even say hello! It’s a constant issue.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, my dear. It was never my intention to do such a thing. Besides, I think you’re overreacting a bit. I’m just trying to get to know your friends better. You want me to have a good relationship with them, don’t you?”
“Sure, but…” You hesitated, finding it difficult to pull the words together. “But it seems like you’re only interested in a few of my friends. You don’t seem to be interested in Stahl, or Donnel…Frederick is an excellent man to befriend, but you turn your nose up when you see him! A-and that’s not to mention Panne, Tharja or Libra…it just seems like you’re only trying to befriend them because they’ve got notoriety, whereas the others don’t.”
“Hah…it seems I wasn’t as careful as I thought.” Your beau sighed, running a hand through his hair, “You see, Robin, it isn’t false that I want to spend more time with your friends and colleagues who are of noble birth compared to others. But I have a good reason for it!”
“Really?” You quirked an eyebrow, already unimpresed with his confession.
It had already felt as though he was using you to step over and connect with the wealthy. Outright admitting it wasn’t something you were pleased to hear.
“I am doing it for us, Robin! You see, we don’t have the opportunities afforded to those who are of high social standing. If not just you, but the both of us are highly regarded by those in the upper echelons of society, then it will only result in upward mobility for both of us!”
“I can understand that, but…I’m friends with them because they’re good people. Not because I wanted to become a noble, myself.”
“It’s certainly very commendable that you can think that way, Robin, but I’m afraid that’s naïve. You have no idea what it’s like to suffer through challenges that nobility simply breeze past! If I- that is, if we- can move forward and garner that notoriety, think of how much better our futures will be! And the future for our family!”
“Our fami-” You stuttered, eyes blown wide, “What on earth are you talking about?! We’ve barely been together for a few months! You want to have a family with me?”
“Of course! You’re an excellent tactician, and you know so many wonderful, affluent people. It will be to our advantage if we marry!”
“Um…I…think I need to take a walk.” You moved away from him, holding out a hand to stop him when his mouth opened in protest. “Alone, please.”
When you moved away from him, you felt quite shaken. Perhaps it was because you were feeling so out of sorts that it was clear on your face.
You received a few odd looks from other Shepherds, but it was Frederick who expressed the first concern.
“Robin,” His voice was gentle, but loud enough to draw you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him not realizing you were looking deeply troubled. “...Are you all right?”
“Yes, I am, I…” You trailed off, glancing back. The soldier you fancied had already run off somewhere. Likely to chase after the nobles, or maybe sniff out Chrom.
“You do not sound certain.” He was not convinced, “Would you like to talk about what’s troubling you? Perhaps I could be of assistance.”
“I’d hate to bother you with it. It’s…rather trivial, really. And it involves my courtship.”
Frederick did not hesitate, waving a dismissive hand. “I am your ally and friend, above all else. If your relationship troubles you, I wish for you to feel safe enough that you can confide in me.”
The two of you headed away from the camp, finding a peaceful patch of wildflowers to take a moment and enjoy the quiet.
He could practically see the discomfort radiating off you, and it did make him worry about what was going on.
Thankfully, it would not take long for you to explain what the issue was.
“He’s…he’s a good person, I think. We get along more often than not, but lately it feels like he’s not looking to spend time with me.” You sighed, resting your chin on your palm, “It feels like he’s using me to get close to others.”
“Others of notable rank.” Frederick added. You glanced over at him, and he shrugged. “It is not subtle, Robin. He is not as careful as he thinks he is.”
“So you suspect ulterior motives?” Your question was met with a ready nod, the man just shrugging in response. “I asked him about it. He said he’s trying to get close to the nobility for both our sakes. He wants our ‘family’ to have an easier life, an easier path than what he and I have as…non-nobles.”
Frederick had worked very hard to suppress the choke when you said the word “family”. 
“I see. And do you intend to…settle down with this…individual?”
“I don’t know what I intend to do.” You shook your head, “We’ve only been dating for a few months! We’re nowhere near serious enough for that to have crossed my mind. But it's clear he wants it, and if he’s trying to do all this, er, connection building with the royals and nobles of Ylisse, then…I don’t know, maybe it’s good?”
“But if you aren’t looking to marry him…”
“There's no reason for him to say all that.” You huffed, “I don’t know what I want. The way Lissa and Sumia talk about love, it seems like they’re sure. But when he spoke of marriage and family with me…I don’t know, it didn't make me feel sure.”
“It is certainly a conundrum.” Frederick agreed with you, looking up at the sky. “If you wish to hear my point of view-”
“-Which I do-”
“-I do not believe that he is pursuing the nobility with good intentions. I do not mean to speak ill of his character, but he is not the first nor the last to use others as a means to build his reputation.”
“So you don’t think that he’s doing it for ‘us’?” 
Frederick hesitated, looking at you for a long moment. “I do not wish to demean his character, especially when he is not able to defend himself. But…I do not feel that he has the right intention. His actions betray his words, Robin.”
You looked away, frown deep. “Yeah.”
He felt that he said something wrong in that moment, finding a twist in his heart when he saw the hurt in your eyes.
“I did not mean to upset you. I just…I have seen this behavior before. There are many who would find ways to get close to the nobility to enrich themselves. Many friendships and relationships have been broken in the name of self preservation.”
“It makes sense.” You agreed, though you were still unable to really look at him. Frederick wanted to reach out, to hold your hand or put a comforting arm around your shoulders, or…anything to alleviate that pain.
“I’m sorry. And if it is any consolation, I may not be correct- if you speak with him again, perhaps he will tell you his true motives or-”
“No, I don’t think so.” You shook your head, “He does push me away when he gets a chance to get close to one of the Shepherds he wants to speak to. And he’ll forget me in a conversation to focus on others. I went along with it for a while because I didn’t want to deal with the fallout, I guess. But the fact remains that he’s…definitely not with me for me.”
Frederick sighed softly, finding the confidence to at least put a hand on your shoulder. You leaned into his touch, still distraught, but welcoming of his comfort, at least.
“I’m sorry, Robin. I hope that by telling you these things, it does help you more than harm you.”
“Thanks, Freddybear.” You smiled softly, even if he did roll his eyes. “It’s always comforting to know you’re looking out for me. I value your opinion greatly, even if it doesn’t seem like it, sometimes.”
“Most of the time.”
“Perhaps, yes.” You laughed, if only for a few sweet seconds. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, staring out at the moonlit flowers. “Well…I suppose I ought to get it over with sooner rather than later, right?”
“It doesn’t have to be tonight. You’ve dealt with enough stress as it is. Some rest may do you quite well.” 
“I suppose you’re right,” You agreed, but the conversation had to pause suddenly when the sound of hurriedly crunched leaves reached your ears.
You both turned to find Chrom all but rushing through the thicket into the valley with you, and he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the two of you.
“Thank the gods, you’re both here. Robin, are you aware that your, er, partner is waiting outside my tent?” 
You shared a look with Frederick. “No, I wasn’t. Why is he…?”
“I don’t know. I was dozing off one moment, and the next he was standing at the entrance asking if I’d like to discuss politics and strategy and whatever else- I-I don’t even know what, but I just laid there and stayed silent for fifteen minutes, and he still wouldn’t leave!”
“Ah.” You shook your head,  earning a sympathetic look from Frederick. “I’ll go have a word with him, and after that, hopefully you won’t have to worry about dealing with his antics ever again.”
“Sounds good.” Chrom’s shoulders dropped with relief, “If it’s all the same, do you mind if I stay here a little while, Frederick? I snuck out the back of the tent and I don’t plan on going back if he’s still going to hover at the entrance for a while. The man is…creepily determined.”
“Understood, milord.” Frederick rose to his feet, offering his hand to help you up as well. 
You nodded to both of them, “I’ll go handle this right now. If I don’t come back, it’s because I’ve collapsed in my tent out of sheer exhaustion.” 
“Please let me know if you need anything, Robin.” Frederick said, his hand still lingering in yours. “Oh, and…if I may…”
“Yes?”
“I want you to know that I would never take you for granted, or use you for my own ends. I respect you, and value you too deeply to ever allow that to happen.”
“O-oh…um…” You blushed, stunned by the sudden admission. Your hand slipped away to nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “Well, thank you, Frederick. That means a lot.”
You lingered only a moment longer before you headed off to complete your less than enjoyable task, leaving the two men to watch after you in the dark.
Chrom glanced over at the knight, who seemed keen not to lose sight of you.
“That wasn’t exactly subtle, Frederick.”
“I am aware.”
“What happened to playing the long game?”
“There is no game to be played, milord.” Frederick smiled softly, “It is only my wish to seize this opportunity, to become closer with Robin now that it has presented itself.”
“I wish you luck, my friend. Though I doubt you’ll need it- she does tend to have a strange taste in men. You ought to be courting her in no time.”
“Milord, please.”
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skoulsons · 8 months
Text
uhh inspired by the Winter embrace, Lissa’s chappy 2, and that one joel and ellie post-David hug that Paws did where they’re sitting next to each other and joel hugs her. you know the one
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“Cee!”
It was a guttural plea. He’d been screaming her name so much that it became a mix of unorganized sounds amidst heavy pants—no longer a comprehensible word. His voice was shaking, breaking more with every breath.
His stump was bleeding. Cee was gone. The hallways were a maze. Cee was gone.
Ezra raced through the halls, propelling himself past each turn with his only arm. His stump stung with every step and attempted swing of his arm, blood still pouring out from the newly opened wound. His right side was coated in it, the blood starting to seep into his waistband and trickle down his leg.
He approached another turn in the hallway and extended his arm, bracing himself for another quick swing around the corner. His fingers grazed the wall but he didn’t catch the corner. Ezra’s built up momentum sent him into the opposite wall and brought him to his knees. He coughed, using the wall and his good arm to try and push himself up to continue his search for Cee.
He coughed again once he was back on his feet. “Ce-”he started before his eyes fixed to the scene in front of him.
It all came into Ezra’s focus slowly. Cee, first. She was kneeling on someone. Her left leg was bent, kneeling on the unnamed person’s chest. Her right leg was also bent, the tip of her shoe to her knee pressed flat into the ground beside the body. She was bent over, her face and both her hands close to the body’s head. He watched her back intently, watching for it to move in tandem with her breath. Her breathing was sporadic and uncontrolled, full of panic. Her hair was disheveled, multiple knots coating the back of her head. She was without a shoe on her left foot and there was a gash along her calf on the same leg.
Second, the man beneath her. The dead man. There was a hint of pride in Ezra seeing the corpse under her and knowing she did it. But his pride quickly soured when he realized that she did it.
He wasn’t there to do it. Whatever this man did or attempted to do to her, he wasn’t there. She had to defend herself. His little bird ended up in a dangerous situation that he couldn’t save her from.
He’s supposed to protect her. Even with one arm, he’d sworn to protect her. That’s his job, anyway. She’s capable, but she shouldn’t have to be.
He should’ve been there. He should’ve strung the man up by the muscles in his fingers. He should’ve spent what strength he had left in his only arm to bruise each and every one of the man's ribs. He should’ve made small but painful cuts in the man's limbs—incisions along the major arteries in his arms and legs. He should’ve taken an ear, teeth, his tongue, or any number of toes from the man while he was alive. Anything, anything to prove that no one goes near Cee.
Third, all the blood. There was a pool of warm, crimson blood still pouring out from the man's abdomen and flowing towards the opposite wall. It was building up under Cee’s right leg, seeping into her pant leg and starting to flow towards Ezra.
His hearing then caught up with his vision. Cee. She was panting, dry heaving… crying. Her form was shaking, her shoulders bouncing with each hiccup she let out.
Ezra’s breath caught in his throat hearing her cries. “Cee!” He shouted, urgently pushing off the wall towards her. He didn’t make it four steps before he tripped over himself, his knees colliding with the floor again. He caught himself with his arm, immediately pushing himself back up and half-crawling the rest of the way to Cee.
He crawled to the left side of the body, settling on his knees on Cee’s left side. He could see what had transpired now that he was up close.
The five inch blade of her knife was plunged into the man’s jugular. Cee’s right hand, covered in blood, was shaking while still holding onto the handle. Tears were hastily falling down her cheeks and dropping off her chin, mixing with the blood on the man’s neck. She was still dry heaving and hiccuping, unaware Ezra was next to her. He looked at Cee’s face, her gaze locked on the man.
Ezra looked where her gaze was fixed. The man’s eyes were wide open—dead and bleak. He reached over and closed them. That’s when Cee noticed him.
She turned, her knee still pressed into the man’s chest. The bloody knife that was just hidden in the man’s throat was now held a hair from Ezra’s. He caught her forearm just in time, holding it tightly as he found her eyes and checked her face.
Four traces of blood followed her jawline down to the bottom of her neck—traces that accurately resembled bloody fingers and the streaks they leave when they’re dragged along a surface. There was a gash in her lip and blood in the corners of her mouth. Her nose and cheeks were covered in speckled blood as well.
“Little bird,” he whispered, his eyes begging for her to recognize him, “it’s me. It’s Ezra.”
Cee’s eyebrows twitched as her eyes darted between his. In his hand, her arm started to shake. She opened her mouth and quickly closed it, swallowing the bile that was building up. Cee tore her gaze from Ezra’s and looked past him, then between them, then beside her. Before her eyes even made it to the dead man’s face, Ezra let go of her arm and immediately found her right cheek.
“Hey, no…” he said, gently directing her face back to see him. “Look at me.”
He kept his hand against her cheek as she glanced back at him. She swallowed again before focusing on her shaking hand that found a resting place on his good shoulder. Her lips quivered as she dropped the blood covered knife, the blade clanking on the floor beside Ezra.
“Birdie,” he breathed, a small stroke of his thumb over her cheek. “Are you with me, Cee?”
Her breathing hitched. Her voice cracked as she choked on tears. “Ezra?” She questioned.
Ezra let out a breath he was subconsciously holding. “It’s me, little bird,” he said.
Her breathing continued in uneven sputters as she bowed her head and let her forehead hit his chest. Ezra moved his hand from her cheek to her back and wrapped it securely across it, squeezing her right shoulder.
His missing arm, a phantom longing he could only describe as agonizing and desperate, craved to hold her. If there wasn’t someone in his life who deserved it, he wouldn’t have cared less about losing it. If there wasn’t a kid in his life who deserved more than 50% of what he could give, he wouldn't have cared less about losing it. If there wasn’t a little girl in his life who, now, he realized all he wanted to do was give 110% for, he wouldn’t have cared less about losing it.
But now there was.
He squeezed her shoulder tight, pulling her body against him. She buried her face deeper into his neck as he pulled her into him, rocking them lightly back and forth. She heaved and coughed beside his neck, trying to catch the breath she’d so desperately lost.
“Here, birdie…” he whispered, falling backwards to sit on the ground next to the body. Cee pulled from him slightly, helping them scoot back to the wall. Once his back hit it, Cee sat beside him, slightly embarrassed.
She was still crying, dried tears and blood along her chin and down her neck. “I lost… track o’ you… and then he… he was… he said…” she stopped, rubbing her forearm across her nose to wipe the snot away.
Ezra took that opportunity to squeeze his arm between her back and the wall and pull her body towards him again. He wrapped his arm across her back again, pulling her into his chest and keeping his hand held tightly to her left shoulder.
She reciprocated it as best she could. She turned into him, her left arm going down by his right side and holding onto the fabric at his waist. Her right hand held onto the fabric on his left side. She buried her face in his chest, right next to his bloody stump.
Ezra rested his chin atop her head. He exhaled, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “Kevva, Cee, I…” he trailed off.
For once, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to express the panic when she was no longer beside him. He didn’t know how to express the urgency in his strides as he raced to find her. He didn’t know how to express the desperation in his kills, not knowing who could’ve taken her and making sure that every single person took their last, most painful breath. He didn’t know how to express the fear that there was a chance she was gone—not that he’d ever truly let that chance reach any level of certainty.
She rested her cheek against his chest, eyeing his stump. She pulled her left hand back from his waist and pressed it to his stump. When she brought it back, fresh blood was on her fingers. “Wait, what…” she stopped, attempting to choke her tears away, “why’s your stump bleeding?”
Ezra smiled lightly, but kept it to himself. I suppose my worried reaction and urgency looking for you surprised some unkind onlookers. “Nothin’ you need to worry about, birdie.” He rubbed her back again. “Soon, once you’ve relaxed, I can take care of you. Then, we can focus on that.”
“But it could get infected…”
“So could that gash in your leg.”
Cee sighed, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. She kept her cheek pressed to his chest, focused on calming her breathing and slowing her heartbeat.
Ezra pressed his lips to her head briefly before pulling away. “I commend your concern, little bird, I do, but I will be fine. Let me take care of you.”
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Cursed
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Summary: It's called a curse for a reason and when the werewolf escapes and causes harm Jack is left floundering.
Sequels bb!! Original story here. Also given the vampire a little more backstory here again for fun so sorry if you don't want LORE...or more cameos.
Vampire!Reader x Jack Russell
Warnings: animal death, blood, panic attacks, angst, once again these idiots are in love
Translations right at the end 👍
It still felt odd to say you and Jack were dating now but what else do you call two people who love one another and live together.
"Married." Ted chimed in, laughing when you almost dropped your phone. Your frowned at him from your pacing but his smile was infectious and you found yourself laughing with him.
"That make you my new brother in law then?" You joked. Ted gripped your shoulder, shaking you gently as the laughter continued. Since learning how to understand him you'd become a double act, teasing Jack relentlessly. Though in his absence the traitor had turned on you. You flopped down on the sofa next to him, frowning at the lack of messages before tossing your phone aside.
It was another full moon tomorrow and Ted had returned to assist you at Jack's request. It'd been 3 moons since you survived a night at the castle with the werewolf. However each time since then he seemed to be getting worse. More violent and more aggressive with each change, howling behind the bars. It'd frightened Jack when you told him and you'd been banned from staying with him in the cellar.
It was strange, he'd been rather sweet once you'd found him again in the castle. He'd chased everyone else off and you'd spent some time tracking his heart beast. The wolf had stalked towards you in the dim room you'd finally found him in. The moonlight filtering in from the stain glass window and illuminating his soft expression in a rainbow of colours.
He was still stunning like this, bright amber eyes and protruding teeth doing little to rob Jack of his beauty. You'd done as he had instructed you to, just in case of something like this. Keeping your head level and eyes on his as he sniffed the air.
You'd seen the recognition return behind the wolves eyes before he'd hunched back to all fours. You watched curiously as he tore the pillows from the chaise longue, pilling them haphazardly in the corner of this parlor. Then he'd pulled the curtains, tearing them down and padding atop them.
"You making yourself a little bed?" You'd asked at last. His eyes snapped to you and you stilled again. He moved back towards you, shoulders shifting beneath the fur. Stopping by your feet he let out a whine from the back of his throat.
"Oh? Right! yes, thank you." You smiled closed lipped, worried a flash of fang might be seen as threatening to him like this. You followed the wolf back to the pillows, sitting crossed legged with him squatting by you.
He was close, inhaling deeply as he appraised your reaction. You patted the pillow ahead of you humming your approval. Then when his gaze persisted you shifted to lean against them. He'd settled at that flopping hard beside you and burying his nose to your neck.
It tickled as he rubbed against the skin there, huffing hot breathes before moving higher to your jaw. He repeated this for some time before he seemed satisfied and curled against you.
When back to the cabin you told Jack about this. He seemed appreciative that you'd not been in danger. However that didn't change how he treated the next moon. After all, he'd explained, an animal can be unpredictable.
Jack returned the next morning to find you asleep against Ted's arm. He said his greetings as you awoke, kissing your temple.
"You trying to wait up?" He smiled. He moved around the room, drawing the curtains against the rays of dawn. Your groaned, stretching before flopping back against the chair.
"Yeah...Was your trip nice?" You asked, rubbing your head against the throbbing headache.
"Yeah, Lissa was happier than I thought she'd be to see me." Jack admitted sitting on the arm of the sofa. "Been a long while since we celebrated together."
You hummed as Jack ran his hand through your hair. "Told you so."
He laughed lightly, leaning back down to kiss your forehead.
"Oh Ted, I got you some records. Left them by the player outside." Jack said, earning an appreciative sound from Ted. He wandered up and out, the shadow from his frame better at blocking the suns glow coming from the curtain.
"We really need to get new ones." Jack hummed as he took Ted's place by your side.
"You think Lissa would like to meet me?" You asked suddenly.
"Oh... I don't see why not." Jack fumbled at the odd question. You'd seemed very supportive of reconnecting when he'd told you about his sister. Even insisting on helping prepare sweet treats for their family's graves before he left.
"If you don't mind me asking, where's this come from?" He questioned.
"Well you met Eric, suppose that's it for family for me. Still feels odd, last time I courted we were calling it courting." You mumbled.
Jack knew well enough now that if a blush was possible it'd be burning your ears right now. Your arm had come to rest over your eyes and Jack pulled it gently away. He reveled in your embarrassment for a moment before leaning down to kiss you gently.
"Suppose at some point I could introduce you to my oldest friend, he's still alive." You hummed when you parted.
"I'd be delighted to meet him." Jack smiled. "And as for Lissa if she doesn't call there's always next Día de Muertos. Speaking of which I have something for you too..."
Something was an understatement. Jack seemed to have spent most of his trip picking up little trinkets and souvenirs to show you on his return. You shared the day listening intently to stories from his trip but all good things come to an end.
When your strength was returning and the daylight ebbing Ted ushered Jack down to the basement. Then when he returned Ted was frowning at you.
"I know, I know. I promised I'd hunt tonight. You think it'll help?" You asked as you moved to the door.
"Help you for sure." Ted grumbled. He was right, in your concern for Jack and joy of living here you'd forgone your own health. Your eyes were bloodshot, red rimmed and bruising eye bags surrounded them. You'd felt sluggish all week and despite Jack's absence had not remedied it yet.
"You know what I mean Ted." You probed. His shoulders shrugged as he made his way to you.
"I think your scent being further might, yes. Now go before I shove you." He pressed ushering you to the night.
It was cool, the November air almost biting but it'd been a long time since that'd bothered you. The stars twinkled in the clear sky and a low breeze sent the promise of deer through the pines.
You didn't begrudge Jack his condition but in moment like this you did wish yours was more temporary. You scolded yourself for the thought, at least you go to keep your right mind. For the most part anyway.
This thirsty? A hunt was a rather dangerous proposition. Your throat burned all afternoon, your stare catching on Jack's jugular more than you'd admit. You promised years ago never to touch human blood again and you'd been true to that. Sure you were weaker without it but you slept soundly.
The deer you stalked traveled alone and was stationary as you approached. It's head bent as it lapped at a puddle. In a rush of air and fang it was down and twitching. In your right mind you didn't relish the struggle but now its fresh blood washing down your throat thrilled you. You were snarling against its throat when you heard it.
SNAP
Your head whipped up, wide eyes searching for the interruption. You were painfully aware how this looked. The blood dripping down your chin, cooling in the night air. Moments passed in silence until you heard the heart.
By now you'd recognize it deaf, Jack or specifically the werewolf. You rose a fraction at a time, keeping your eyes on the glint of his eyes in the dark. He'd gotten so close and you cursed yourself for being so distracted.
A shame burned through you and you glanced to your bloody hands. It was barely a second but it was enough. Your stare no longer holding him in place the wolf pounced.
He was heavy, crashing into you and sending you to the ground. You shrieked but his hands grabbed your own pinning them to either side of your head. You stilled, his heaving form hunched over you, face wild with frustration. The bright amber of his eyes was lost behind the swell of dark from his blown pupils.
"Jack?" You whispered but he roared into your face. You squinted against the sudden rush of air. Still he didn't attack just huffing above you before his nose was on your neck. It was warm and almost pleasant, tickling up to just under your chin before his hot tongue swiped out.
He lapped against your bloodied face before his attention returned to your throat. A deep rumble came from deep in his chest and his tongue dragged across your skin. You shivered under his touch before you felt the nip of fanged teeth.
Suddenly he wasn't Jack, he wasn't the wolf, he was your sire. Pinning your struggling form into the dirt as you screamed and he bit. Pain erupted, cold blood oozing out from fresh indents in your skin. Your chest heaved and fell in quick succession, blinding pain in your skull like midday exploding behind your eyes.
You managed to pull your legs between you both and kicked up hard. He went flying, crashing against a tree with enough force to fell it. A howling yelp shot straight through your skull as you scrambled back.
Jack, the wolf regained his footing, shaking his head. In the light of the moon he was whining and limping back towards you. You blood continued to ooze coolly, saturating the shirt you wore and the skin around the wolves lips.
Ted's roar sounded and when the wolf turned to his approach you ran.
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Jack awoke with an ache in his chest that he couldn't place. Blind in the sun he reached out for you only to find dirt beneath his fingers. He tore his eyes open, the glare all he could see for just a moment.
Ted was there, hunching low into his line of sight, brows pulled in concern. He was in the woods, not your bed, not the cage and that fact was hell. Before he could even speak your name the taste hit him. Metallic and sharp on his tongue but awfully familiar.
Shakily he brought his muddied fingers to his lips. The dried blood caked to them flaked off and sat russet in his palm. Tears welled as his chest spasmed, he couldn't speak his throat was far too tight.
"They're okay." Ted spoke at last but the relief only lasted a moment.
"Where?" Jack choked out but Ted just shook his head.
The walk back to the cabin was slow going. Each step felt like he was moving towards something awful. All the same he needed to see you, see you were alive. Even if it meant seeing the hatred in your eyes, the disgust.
Nothing could have prepared him for the empty house. For the closest doors open and clothes missing. Ted tried to speak to him, to show him the note but Jack's world was crumbling and he couldn't hear him.
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"Well we were called the howling commandos" You joked watching the man opposite you stare back in disbelief. You weren't sure his gaping mouth could get any wider but you were eager to test the theory.
"There were no werewolves on the squad, leave him alone y/n." Bucky grumbled next to him.
"Spoil sport." You frowned. "Don't believe him, Steve was a mummy." You joked.
"Hey I just found out Bucky and him were fighting Draculas so don't!" Sam quipped as Bucky groaned.
"Just Dracula singular." He stated.
"Eh think Draculas plural is more accurate." You added.
It'd been a long time since you'd seen Bucky in person. Not long after he got back he'd stopped responding to your calls and messages. You figured he needed time to adjust and didn't want to push it. When you saw his message you it was the perfect excuse to run further.
"God I need another drink" Sam got up to head back towards the bar as you poked at your glass.
"So you gonna tell me whats up?" Bucky asks. You raise your brows to him but he scoffs. "Come on Y/n, you're both the happiest and saddest I've ever seen you. I just wanna know if there's someone I gotta beat up."
"No! no...." You blurt before laughing a little. The humor doesn't reach your voice but you cave. "I fucked up I think."
"Okay... how so?" Bucky asks leaning closer. All at once you feel 100 years younger, sitting with Bucky in a Polish bar, trying to figure this whole vampire thing out. He'd been the only commando not afraid to join you for a drink and the rest was history.
"Things got complicated, messy... I ran." You admitted.
"They hurt you?" He asked pointing to your bandaged throat. It no longer bled through but it was far from healed.
"You don't understand, he's like me, he's not always in control!" You snap to Jack's defense. Bucky's jaw ticks and your curse. "Sorry..."
"You know I know a thing or two about that, and if you want to make amends you gotta let him do so too. He's probably hurting real bad right now." Bucky says.
"Considering I probably broke his ribs I'd say so." You muttered as you let his words sink in. He was right, Jack held a very low opinion of his werewolf side he probably felt pretty bad about now. If he didn't feel justified in attacking another monster that was. Still you wanted to apologize and that was enough reason to head back. Even just to confirm that home was no longer yours.
"How'd he manage that anyway? Pretty sure I saw you shrug off a mortar shell... is it the blood thing?" Bucky asks taking a long swig of his drink.
"Kinda? I mean I'm keeping my promise to Steve but I think it's more because he's a werewolf." You admit. Bucky chokes in his drink, spluttering as Sam arrives back with the next round.
"Werewolves are real?!" He coughs.
"I knew it!" Sam boasts.
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Ted doesn't leave the cabin. You've been gone for a week now and Jack's barely moved. A part of him worries this has broken him, that his friend will never recover. The other stays hopeful you were being truthful in your note.
"SOS from friend. Be back ASAP."
He curses that friend for their timing, though he wouldn't blame you for leaving. After a water fight he'd finally seen the bites that littered your body. Then the face you'd made in the woods was still burned in his mind. Utter pain and betrayal. Sure was glad Jack didn't remember that, though the taste of your blood on his tongue did enough.
Jack was asleep. He'd been drinking the night before and Ted had to put him to bed. Now he was alone again in the stuffy cabin taking care of the mess as the dusk cast long shadows through the windows.
Ted had gone to open the window when he saw you shifting over a fallen log. Bags in hand, sunglasses in place and stumbling on the overgrown trail. He's outside in a second, door slammed and bouncing back in its frame.
Ahead Ted stares at you and you can't help but drop your bags, surging towards him. Ted grips you the moment you fling yourself up onto his chest, holding you to the soft moss.
"Did you walk here in the sun?" Ted scolds and you laugh into his shoulder. "You should've called!"
"I know, I'm sorry." You say as he places you back onto your feet. "If it makes you feel better I got a lift to the trail start."
Jack stirred from his sleep, head pounding and throat raw. The front door slamming against the walls pierced like a lance to the skull. He groaned, rolling to his feet and stumbling into the brighter living room. The last light of day didn't help his headache but he continued until he heard your laugh.
His feet move of their own accord, the siren song drawing him to the porch. Ted's shoulders hunch low as he leans over to talk before he turns. The light hits your hair, haloing around your face and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Jack's stare cuts deeper than any knife, any stake, any wound you've ever felt. Bucky was right, he was so right. Jack's a mess, red tiered eyes, unshaven, mess of greying hair sticking up at every angle and he's the most perfect thing in the world right now.
You don't know how to start. What to say to him or even if you should approach. Though when his knees buckle and he slumps to his knees your rushing to him. Sliding to your knees and pulling him to you tightly. His arms don't wrap around you though and you shift back as if stung. His glassy eyes are on your throat and a shaking hand rises to the wound.
"No, no. See its okay." You babble out as your own tears well. Pealing the gauze away you reveal the scabbing wound. Its still angry, still raw but no where near the puffy bleeding mess you'd left with.
Not to Jack though. Who'd seen your stake would close and disappear without a trace over the course of a few days. This brutal mark he left on you. Another bite from a monster scarring your skin.
You cannot bare his silence, the thundering of his heart nor the guilt stricken face. You ramble half incoherent apologies between sobs, for not running, for hurting him, for leaving. He doesn't touch you but you freeze under his eyes, finally meeting yours.
"You have nothing to apologize for..." He chokes out. His voice is gruff, raw in his throat. "I'm the one who..."
Jack crumples and his head is on your lap, burying into your stomach. Hot tears soaking into your trousers as he digs his hands into the fabric of your coat.
"Te pido disculpas de corzon, No te imaginas cuánto lo siento." He wails against you. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...I"
He doesn't get to finish. He's being lifted under his arms and tackled back against the cabin floor. Your holding him, hugging tightly against him. This time his warm arms embrace you back, his hands stroking your hair as you cry harder.
"I thought you'd hate." You finally mumble against his chest before rising to see his face.
"I thought you'd hate me!" Jack responds his hand brushing against your cheek. "I'm an idiot."
You laugh lightly, leaning into his touch. "I'm an idiot."
"Your both idiots now get off the floor." Ted huffs.
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Jack doesn't leave your side the entire night. Your legs flung over his and resting your head against his shoulder. A few times you catch his eyes on your neck again and you kiss under his jaw.
He still looks pained, guilty but he's holding onto you. His hands hot against your body and pulling you flush to him. You'd joke about evening the score but it's too soon you can tell. So you just let him hold you, not that your not enjoying it.
"Is your friend okay now?" Ted asks. He hands you both a cup of tea before settling on the floor. You perk up at his question.
"Yes, thank you. He's actually the one who drove me here." You say. Jack shifts under you, rubbing his face into your hair again.
"Your old friend?" He asks softly.
"The very same, he's was pretty worried about you actually. Eager to get me home quick." You admit. Jack kisses your head again before sipping the tea.
"I'll have to thank him, perhaps get his blessings." Jack hums.
"He's still in town actually, you could?" You phrase it as a question but you can feel Jack nodding against you, drinking his tea again when you speak.
"How do you feel about meeting an Avenger?"
He chokes.
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Te pido disculpas de corazón, No te imaginas cuánto lo siento - I sincerely apologize, you can't imagine how sorry I am
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pizzee · 1 year
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Ok I’m spitballing here because I have Thoughts™️ This has almost no editing so pls have mercy on my soul.
He takes a deep breath.
“All families have something in common.”
He looks away from Elsa. The coffins sit still on the shelves of the crypt. Jack heard a story once from his mother, of how the dead become restless.
(‘They bang and bang on the lid of their coffins, begging and screaming to be let out,’ she whispered beneath the covers. Lissa gripped his hand tighter.
‘But you musn’t release them.’
‘And what happens if you do?’ His sister asked.
Their mamá gave her a long look. ‘The dead are dead for a reason. They are meant to stay that way.’)
The urge to wipe the paint of his face sits low in his stomach.
“The follow us. For good, for bad.”
It’s funny how moving from town to town changes nothing. Jack figures he’s lived in every village, town, city in Mexico and yet every time, every full moon—
(‘Where are we going?’ He’d always ask his mamá every time she shook him and Lissa awake at the stroke of midnight and urged them to get their things.
‘Away,’ she’d mumble, staring up at the moon as she tugged them along. ‘Away.’)
He doesn’t remember his father. He doesn’t remember the lullabies his mamá sang and told him his father sang for him when he was a baby. When he was alive, she’d say in low, dulcet tones while stroking his hair on nights he couldn’t sleep and the moonlight felt like more of spotlight than a sanctuary from the darkness.
When he was alive, she’d whisper to herself when Jack woke up in the middle of the night, restless and confined in the sheets of their bed. She’d hold the only picture of him Jack had ever seen and hold it in front of her, so her tears wouldn’t land on the paper.
When he was alive, Lissa would start a question with, what was he like?
I don’t know, Jack would respond. I don’t know.
“They stay, like they become,” he gestures around his head, “an atmosphere.”
Stifling. Suffocating. The pictures of family members, hanging on every wall in the house they’d settled in when Jack turned 16. His grandfather, his grandmother, aunts and uncles, cousins and family friends. He’d met them once, in Oaxaca, upon his uncle Philip's insistence. Stares, whispers, strangely ominous pieces of advice. When you turn 18, it’ll be your turn.
(’It won’t,’ his mamá had insisted, without saying what exactly it was. She straightened his shirt and planted a kiss on the crown of his head. ‘Not if you don’t let it.’)
“And sometimes, we think that by doing something very specific, we can change everything, and not be like them.”
He doesn’t remember. He never does. He doesn’t know if that’s for the best. He only remembers before.
Lissa, he had said. Lissa, was the last thing he’d said. Lissa was the last thing he saw. (curled in a corner, shaking, watching in fear and horror, tears streaming down her face and— )
He only remembers after. 
(’Good morning.’ 
Lissa offers him a shaky smile. Her face is covered in dirt and sweat. She looks exhausted. She looks relieved.
He bites on his lip, hard. Wills away tears.
‘Good morning.’)
There’s a roar, a yell to get a move on! Jack scoffs fondly.
“Or sometimes they’re just a pain in the ass we have to save all the time!”
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lissa05 · 8 months
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Some people say falling in love is amazing but sometimes that fall can be shattering
“I feel like I’m losing you!” silence… followed by a quick response,
“I was never yours to lose…” only six words and yet they carried so much impact. James stared her in the eyes. Those same eyes he’d seen joy, surprise, happiness… he saw the hard stuff too like sadness, anger, frustration, and guilt. But never once had he seen regret in those beautiful hazel eyes…
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The words fell out of her mouth without permission and Maya… didn’t feel bad about it. It was the truth and Maya never lied, she stared into his beautiful green eyes as conflict, sadness, and guilt each flashed threw and then settled on rage. She knew this would end in a screaming match, so she did what any regretful girl would do…turn around and leave. She regretted ever thinking that maybe by a small chance he would like her back but she was right always was always has been. By the time she had accepted he was never going to have the same feelings as her, gotten over him, and settled for watching him be happy with other girls, eventually leaving each one of them he tried to tell her he felt the same but that wasn’t true it couldn’t be. He had a girlfriend and after all these years why. A word crashed through her thoughts and it took her a second to realize it was her own name that ripped through the raging scorching flames in her thoughts,
“Maya!” 
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James ran towards her. He liked her and he wanted to talk to her about it but she was walking away like a coward.
“Listen I-I like you and I want you to understand that so date me, I’ll leave Katie for us” it was desperate he knew it but so was he.
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Us… Maya knew that wasn’t a possibility,
“Who;s your girlfriend?” She asked even though she knew the answer,
“Katie…” he responded confused, I replied not wasting my time on someone who took my time and threw it away like a piece of garbage
“And do you love her…” such a simple question yet so much impact
“Yes of course” she could tell it was true and she knew that if she was selfish and acted on old feelings she would end up hurting feelings for her own personal gain
“See James there's a difference between me and Katie, I had boys asking me every corner I turned if we could be more but I turned each and every one of them down… because I was holding out for you, she only had one follower and she needed someone…” I paused not knowing if I could go on. I knew what I wanted to say. I knew what I needed to say but my throat betrayed me going dry. I cleared my throat and went on voice strong and balanced.
“So the difference between not just Katie but all those ex-girlfriends and me is that they all settled for you. But I chose you!” I paused and he was about to speak again, opening his mouth but I cut him off.
“Or at least I had. James we will never work so walk away! Be happy with your girlfriend! Get married, have kids…and forget about me!” My voice cracked on the last words and the tears flew down my cheeks. I turned and bolted.
Some people say falling in love is amazing but sometimes that fall can be shattering
Short story by Lissa
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sansang · 2 years
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reputahtion · 4 months
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WHAT IS YOUR TRUE ROLE IN THE STORY?
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the  one  at  the  crossroads,  questioning  yourself  again?  well  it's  a  hard  choice  is  it  not.  you  always  decide  you've  made  your  mind  but  you  seem  to  nevertheless  return  to  this  state  of  uncertainty.  are  you  good  or  evil?  dark  or  light  alas?  alas,  I  am  not  fit  for  such  details  in  morality.  In  my  slightly  skewed  sight  of  it,  neither  truly  exist.  they  are  but  a  mindset,  but  mindset  or  not,  they  still  give  you  quite  the  anxieties  hm?  you  are  one  who  has  lived  in  fear,  your  heart  is  hidden,  and  you  don't  know  who  to  trust.  you  doubt  you  can  even  trust  yourself.  the  caustic  words  of  poisonous  people  have  corroded  into  your  skull.  "you  are  evil.  you  are  a  monster.  you  are  bad."  well  that  is  indeed  a  bunch  of  poppycock,  mind  my  language,  for  the  only  one  who  may  decide  that  is  you.  my  dear,  you  are  torn  between  never  allowing  others  to  hurt  the  ways  you  hurt,  and  from  running  away  from  all  who  might  harm  you  again,  with  gnashing  teeth.  you  are  a  cornered  animal  who  has  been  kicked  by  the  ones  it  trusted.  you  do  not  know  whether  to  trust  again,  for  your  mind  is  screaming,  don't.  but  if  I  may,  you  can  be  both.  it  is  not  the  question  of  whether  you  are  good  or  evil,  it  is  the  question,  what  do  I  deserve  and  how  might  I  reach  that?  you  do  not  deserve  pain,  correct?  so  never  chase  that,  instead  kindly  decline  and  flee  from  those  like  your  past  assailants,  but  trust  the  ones  who  you  know  are  good.  sometimes  you  will  find  people  to  be  a  messy  combination  of  both  pain  and  love,  but  so  are  you  and  I.  my  advice  is  to  simply  be  kind,  but  be  willing  to  question.  always  question,  always  wonder.  do  not  give  away  your  heart  on  a  silver  platter  my  dear,  it  is  worth  far  more  than  the  sun  himself,  but  don't  fail  to  allow  healing.  you  deserve  good  things  in  life.  so  as  you  stand  between  two  roads,  walk  between  the  third  you  just  now  have  noticed.  life  seems  to  be  made  of  entirely  preposterous  choices,  but  if  you  look  close  enough,  you'll  reveal  the  right  ones  that  are  normally  hidden  from  sight.  breathe  my  dear,  things  will  be  well.  trust  yourself,  and  carve  your  own  path.
tagged by: @stcrgirl <3 tagging: @everdawn ( lissa or dimitri? ) , @razorfst , @tragicale , @unheavenly ( tara ) , @inspotlight , @dreamvisit , @lovemaim ( diego ) , @serendpitous ( brooke ) , @dvarapala , @mindcaterol & whoever else wants to do this !!
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hiddentrails7 · 1 year
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Kidnapper: We have one of your men, pay us and you will get him back.
Frederick: Which one?
Kidnapper, while Inigo is staring at him intensely: T-the fashionable one.
Frederick: He made you say that, right?
Kidnapper, on the verge of crying: Just come and take him back. Please.
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Brady: Love is dumb.
Brady, glancing at Owain as they punch a hole in a wall: And I'm the dumbest bitch alive.
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Olivia: This is a mistake.
Henry, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day!
Olivia: But not today.
Henry, still enthusiastic: Oh no, today is going to be hell!
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Cherche: But what about Henry?
Ricken: Don't worry about him.
Ricken: I once watched him fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating his hotdog like nothing happened.
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Donnel: So, how did the date with Lon'qu go?
Stahl: I tried complimenting him, but couldn't decide on whether to say "you have an amazing smile" or "you have nice eyes." Then he smiled a little and I panicked and said, "You have eyes."
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Ricken: I’m kind of crushing on someone... but I’m worried about telling you who it is cause you’re not going to like it...
Vaike: Just rip the bandage off, shortie.
Ricken: It’s Henry.
Vaike: Put the bandage back on.
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Kidnapper: We have a troop of yours.
Frederick: Which one.
Kidnapper: The loud, annoying one who never shuts up
Frederick: Which one.
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Stahl: I’ve never smoked marijuana.
Stahl: I ate a brownie once at a party.
Stahl: It was intense. It was kind of indescribable. I felt like I was floating.
Stahl: Turns out there was no pot in the brownie. It was just an insanely good brownie.
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Chrom @ Robin: I'm not gay but DAMN
Lissa: You don't have to be gay to appreciate a good looking guy
Chrom: Nah I'd fuck him
Lissa: Oh okay shit
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Robin: What did you two do.
Vaike:
Owain:
Robin: You're not in trouble. I just need to know if I need to lie to Lissa again or not.
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Donnel: You know what they say: if you can't beat them, curl up in a ball and protect your organs.
Stahl: ...Nobody says that.
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Sully: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.
Say'ri: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.
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Chrom: Who traumatized you?
Robin: Do you you want a list?
Chrom, with Falchion out: Ya actually
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Basilio: I'm gonna prank him by calling him Lon'qu.
Olivia: I don't understand. That's his name..?
Lon'qu: *Walks around the corner*
Basilio: Hey Lon'qu
Lon'qu:
Basilio: Lon'qu?
Lon'qu: Are you mad at me?
Basilio: Oh no, I'm sorry Lon. Come here son.
Olivia: Oh, I see
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Sully: Based on genital structure, men should really be the ones wearing skirts and women should be wearing pants.
Stahl: The Scots were right all along
Kellam: The Scots did it to hide more knives on their bodies
Gaius: The Scots were right all along.
-
Sumia: How do you feel about children?
Sully: Uh, they’re okay, I guess. I mean, if I saw one on the street I wouldn’t throw a rock at them. 
Sumia: Why would you throw a rock at a child. 
Sully: I just said I wouldn’t.
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In time, this world will take a dark turn; for now, in Southtown, fighting bandits, Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa gain a new ally.
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Plumes of dark smoke rise from the direction of the town. These blasted brigands made it before the Shepherds could intercept them, leaving Chrom scrambling to catch up. He can see the flames crawling up the sides of houses and devouring brown shingled roofs; no matter how fast they move now, there’s already damage done. Hopefully they can intervene before anyone is killed.
Chrom takes the lead and Lissa follows close behind Frederick, clutching her staff as though to use it as a club. The main cobblestone road takes them in toward the center of town, past hastily-abandoned wagons still laden with bounty from the fields. The center square, when it comes into view, shows more clear signs of daily life hastily interrupted: farm stands battered and overturned, crops littering the ground. At this distance, indistinct yells and screams reach Chrom’s ears. He is ready to charge into the fray, careful approach be damned, when a clatter of footsteps precedes a woman who throws herself around the corner of the house to Chrom’s left. She collides with an empty farm stand and then intentionally catches hold of it to bring herself to a stop. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes catch on Chrom’s and the relief spreading across her face hardens immediately into a determined scowl. 
“More of you damned brigands,” she hisses, straightening up. One hand plunges into her coat as though seeking a weapon, and she holds the other straight out, fingers splayed, straight towards Chrom. “Fine, then—”
A ball of lightning begins to form in her palm, crackling brightly and loudly sparking and snapping the way the flames do. She knows magic, and she probably means to kill them.
“Wait!” Chrom throws his hands up. He’d like to be ready to draw Falchion, but he’d like a ball of lightning to the chest even less, and if he goes for his blade she will probably strike. “We aren’t brigands! We’re Shepherds, here to help!”
“Awfully well-armed for shepherds,” the woman replies curtly, not lowering her hand even slightly. “Though you don’t sound like brigands.”
She shifts her stance and her long dark coat moves with her, revealing a glimpse of a blade sheathed at her hip. This woman is no ordinary resident of a simple farming village, that’s for damn sure. But she still hasn’t attacked him, so Chrom is optimistic about his chances to calm this situation. “So what do brigands sound like?” he asks. 
“Plegian,” she says. Her eyes finally leave Chrom’s face, darting briefly across Frederick and lingering longer on Lissa, who takes up the rear. Surely she doesn’t think that a girl of Lissa’s age would be part of a bandit incursion? “You don’t, but you don’t look like knights - and certainly not like shepherds, either.” 
“We hear that a lot,” Chrom says. 
The lightning disappears from her palm, but her hand remains raised, still ready for the situation to turn south. She looks back behind her, toward the main square, as though expecting others to appear around the corner. When no one does, her gaze turns back on Chrom, cold and appraising. “Whatever you are, if you truly mean to help, your timing is perfect. These brigands think I’m their only opposition. You can easily ambush them while they’re preoccupied.”
“Wait,” Lissa pipes up from behind. “You don’t mean that you’ve been trying to fight a bunch of bandits all on your own! That’s crazy!”
The woman draws her hand back; her other still lingers inside her coat and the tome surely hidden away there. “What else was I to do?” she asks. “Let them run unopposed?”
“Surely the danger of such a venture has not escaped you,” Frederick says. He still looks wary of her - typical Frederick - but not as though he will be the first to strike. 
The woman waves her hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I know,” she says, and she sounds just as dismissive as her gesture was - sounds as though the danger of such a venture has in fact escaped her. “Now, they’re still going to be on guard waiting for me to attack again, but if you sneak up through here” - she indicates a thin alley between two homes that are thankfully not yet ablaze - “and I catch their attention from the main square and draw them toward us, you can strike from the side while they’re distracted.”
Her strategy, while simple, seems solid, and has more thought put into it than Chrom would have (his strategy being to run the bastards down immediately). There is just one key point that he objects to: “So you are going to charge them, alone.”
“I’m not charging them,” she reminds him. “I’m getting their attention and drawing them back, and I’m hardly alone if there’s an ambush waiting on my side.” 
“That’s a lot of faith to put in strangers,” Chrom says. Her life in their hands, and they don’t even know her name. And she might be a stranger, but she’s fighting for the people of Ylisse; that makes her a friend to the Shepherds and the Exalt, and they’re short on friends as of late.
“So it is,” she agrees. Her expression doesn’t waver; her eyes don’t leave Chrom’s even as she says, “And you, girl with the staff - if this goes wrong, you might be my new best friend, not a stranger. Now shall we?”
She seems to have determined Chrom to be the leader of them. He nods and looks to Frederick. He does not appear at all happy, but he does not offer any verbal objection, either. Presumably he will go along with what Chrom goes along with, and Chrom is going to go along with this plan that is only slightly insane because he has no plan at all. “Let’s.”
The woman darts off into the main square, ducking around the broken farm stands as she moves between cover. Chrom wonders why she’s bothering, if she intends to get their attention, and several seconds later, as he advances down the alleyway, he realizes that she probably intends to make her approach appear less suspicious than an outright charge.
He really would have just charged, himself.
The alley between the houses, about two feet wide, is littered with debris. Chrom crouches behind the rainwater barrel that stands at the far mouth of the alley and presses his back to the wall. Further ahead lies the bridge across the river which cuts the town in half, and on the other side, the church. Two brigands, one with a large axe and the other with a sword, cross the bridge, yelling what must be every derogatory term to refer to a woman that exists. Moments later, a small javelin-shaped burst of lightning streaks through the air, slamming directly into the chest of the swordsman. He howls as he tumbles to the ground, still alive despite the force of the impact, and his companion continues on, disappearing out of Chrom’s line of sight. 
Chrom gives himself another few moments, watching the swordsman return to his feet and put his back to Chrom. Then the sound of metal-on-metal rings through the air, and Chrom decides that is enough.
He throws himself forward from the alley, drawing Falchion. Now he can see the stranger, with a sword in her hands to parry the axe that bears down on her. The second brigand limps towards the duel and does not make it; Falchion tears through his back and he falls with a gurgling sound. The axe-wielding brigand, about to bring a second swing down on the stranger, hesitates and turns towards the sound. “What the—”
Falchion arcs through the air, meeting the chipped, rusting axe blade. The brigand’s face, contorted in fury, suddenly goes slack. He looks down; Chrom, however, does not dare take his eyes off the axe - not until it clatters to the ground from now-limp hands of a man with lightning magic still sparking in his chest. 
“I killed two of them earlier, before I had to run and met you,” the woman says, lowering her right hand; in her left, she clutches a tome close to her chest. “I believe there should only be one of them left—”
She drops the tome and lunges forward. Chrom has no time to react and next he knows, she has knocked the two of them to the ground. Crackling flames burst in the air above them, right where Chrom had been standing; even from a few feet away, the spell warms the side of his face and he wonders what it would be like to have taken the full brunt of it. “I thought I killed two of them,” the woman amends, falling back onto the ground away from Chrom and fumbling for her tome again, and then with a wordless yell of anger she throws lightning right back.
Chrom scrambles to his feet. Across the square, he sees another man fall, a tome slipping from his grasp. “My apologies,” the woman says lightly, as though she didn’t just strike a man down with magic, turning her head to glance at Chrom. “I didn’t expect that.”
“That’s all right,” Chrom says. “I much prefer being thrown around a little to burning alive.”
“Glad to hear it,” she says. 
“Anyone need help?” Lissa waves her staff about as she runs up, Frederick still doing his best to stay ahead of her and keep himself between her and any danger. It is, Chrom suspects, a losing battle, but Frederick valiantly fights it anyway, and for that Chrom is grateful. He doesn’t have to keep both eyes on Lissa at all times with Frederick around. “We’re all good?”
“The last man seems to have been the one giving orders,” says the woman, indicating the bandit lingering on the other side of the bridge. “Let’s see if he has any bite behind his bark.”
To the little credit that Chrom would give any Plegian brigands who are ransacking his halidom, the sole remaining man is not a coward who folds once he sees his backup is dead. Unfortunately this also means a second round of fighting, and more chances for someone on Chrom’s side to be hurt. And fortunately, when the stranger catches a thrown axe, it is with the inside of her billowing coat, and not any critical piece of flesh, and Frederick’s lance puts the bandit down before he can do any real damage to anyone.
And then there is no time to waste, as the town is on fire and the four of them cannot put it out by themselves. Lissa scrambles about trying to convince the townspeople that it’s safe to come out and help, and Chrom and Frederick search for any buckets; by the time Chrom returns to where he remembers a rain barrel, he finds that the woman has scaled one of the houses and stands on a roof about fifteen feet away from the crackling flames. 
There’s something admirable in her audacity, that she’s running towards danger for the sake of helping others. That’s the kind of person who would be a good fit for the Shepherds. And Chrom’s no tactician or politician, but he can read the writing on the wall the same as anyone else: Plegia’s building up to something, and Ylisse needs to be prepared to fight back. 
They need all the help they can find, here and everywhere else.
-
It is late afternoon before all of the fires have been put out and the wounded villagers treated. Chrom has not met a person who is not profusely thankful, offering anything they have as repayment. He politely refuses offerings of meager coin pushed on him - “it’s all we have but please, milord, you saved our homes, you saved us–” - to make his way back to the center of town. A man who had earlier introduced himself as one of the village elders greets them there.
“You must at least stay the night, milord,” he implores. “We would happily toast the valor of you and your companions with a feast - where has the last one of you gotten off to, do you know?”
Chrom looks to Frederick on his right and Lissa on his left and back at the older man. “You mean - that woman? She wasn’t with us - you mean she isn’t from here?”
“Goodness, no.” The man shakes his head. “We would surely know if we had any mages in town. I have never seen her before.”
Lissa has already begun to imagine, out loud, what sort of meal they might be having when there, rounding the corner, comes the stranger woman. She stops dead when she sees an already-assembled group of people staring at her, and she flinches when the town elder calls her over. Her eyes do not linger long on him even as he extends his grateful invitation to her; they rove, suspiciously, between all of them. “That’s a generous offer, sir,” she replies, her eyes finally settling on the village elder, “but I’m afraid I must decline. I’ve been away from home long enough and my mother will be getting worried.”
“Likewise, we must be returning to Ylisstol,” Frederick says - exactly what Chrom had expected him to say. They need to report back to Emmeryn. 
Lissa, however, stops in the middle of a sentence. “Wait, what? Frederick, it’s nearly dark! We—”
“We will simply make camp where we find ourselves and hunt for our sustenance - as I believe you said that you would be ‘getting used’ to roughing it?”
Frederick has a point. She did say that, and from her expression, she clearly remembers saying that and can’t accuse him of making it up. “Frederick,” she says wearily, “sometimes I really hate you.”
The woman covers a laugh with her hand. “If you’re also heading north,” she says, “my mother and I live along the road back to Ylisstol. If we leave now, we should be able to make it before nightfall and you can have a roof to sleep under for the night - and I won’t have to worry if I run into another pack of brigands on the road.”
It’s a practical suggestion, but there’s something strange about the way she speaks it - a catch in her voice after she offers them her open door, and then the hasty addition. Like her offer of assistance would be too suspicious if she didn’t also gain something from it. Like people don’t help each other only for the sake of helping each other, like there always has to be a reward, but she was here in this town fighting bandits alone and might easily have disappeared without getting anything in return. And Frederick frowns, like he does find that offer suspicious, because he finds everything suspicious - that is Frederick’s way. And Chrom thinks of Emmeryn, and will do as his heart wills him, and he answers, “I think we all would be grateful for a roof after the day it’s been - my sister especially.”
“Hey!” Lissa aims to stomp down on his foot, but Chrom gets out of the way quicker than she can strike. “You - you shut it!”
The woman lifts her hand again, obviously shielding a smile from the way her cheeks rise to her eyes. “Oh, of course,” she says, lowering her hand and failing to compose her face into a stern expression as she tilts her body just slightly in towards Lissa. “He’s using you as the excuse.”
“Exactly!” Lissa cries, and the stranger’s mischievous smile widens and she doesn’t seem to think to hide this one. “Don’t listen to a word he says about me. He’s called me delicate before - delicate! As if!”
“Let’s not start this again,” Chrom says.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have started it—!”
Frederick clears his throat. “That is generous of you, milady, but as you said - if we leave now.” He glances to the sky, tracking the position of the sun and the length of the shadows. “So we should, then, be off.”
The woman straightens up. “Of course,” she says with a sharp nod, and already her teasing feels distant or imagined. She dropped her guard and then snapped it back up, and that just makes Chrom all the more curious as to who she is and what her story is. “That we should.”
“My name is Lissa, by the way,” Lissa says. “And this is Chrom, my brother - you actually shouldn’t listen to anything he says, not just about me - and Frederick.”
Frederick gives a curt nod of acknowledgement. “Pleasure to meet you,” Chrom says.
“Likewise,” the woman replies. “My name is Robin.”
She has short hair, a pale, sandy blonde lighter in shade than either Lissa or Emmeryn’s. Her long, dark coat has maroon detailing along the arms and through the interior and, as she offers when questioned, more than a few pockets sewn within it. Frederick’s first line of inquiry - as suspiciously as he ever asks such things - as they set off down the road is where she learned to fight, and she reaches within her coat and produces a book on battle tactics. “My mother was a mercenary tactician, and a mage,” she says. “She taught me everything she knew, and the other members of her company taught me the basics of the sword.”
“A tactician, huh,” Chrom says. “The Shepherds could really use one of those now.”
“Is that so?” Robin asks. “Is the situation with the brigands getting worse? The news we get from town was always of smaller incursions such as that, but nothing more.”
She’s eager for news from Ylisstol and hangs intently on Chrom’s every word about the progression of the situation with Plegia. If she lives a few hours’ walk from such a small town, it’s no surprise that she’s not up-to-date. 
When Frederick returns to the question of her skills and Robin proves, among other skills, an uncanny knack for knowing where exactly in her tactics book to find certain references or information. It’s almost like a game, as Frederick or Chrom opens discussion of a cavalry or infantry formation and Robin immediately produces pages of diagrams in her book. As battlefield experience goes, she admits to having little - but Chrom’s recruited people to the Shepherds who have none at all, and Robin has already proven that she has quick reflexes and keeps a level head in a fight.
Gods, he’s really considering this. Ylisse is in dire straits. 
“Have you always lived around here?” Chrom asks at a lull in the tactical discussion. Robin has a bit of an accent he can’t place; it isn’t the Plegian accent he’s familiar with, but she doesn’t sound quite Ylissean either. 
The way she looks at him suggests that she knows the question buried beneath that: where are you from? A question of allegiance - though allegiance does not always correlate with one’s place of birth - but Frederick would probably be furious if Chrom didn’t ask before he asks his other question. “I spent my childhood in Ferox,” she says. “Until I was - eight or nine, maybe?”
Her pointed gaze lingers on Chrom for a moment longer, as if asking him if that answer is good enough, until Lissa pipes up, “Isn’t it cold in Ferox?”
“I have seen snow,” says Robin solemnly, “in every month of the year.”
Lissa scrunches up her nose. “That’s horrible!” 
“It would have its charms, in moderation,” Robin replies.
“So, like, just a bit of snow sometimes would be nice,” Lissa says. “Like in the winter. Having a bit of snow in moderation in the winter, like we have here, is nice. That’s what you mean?”
Robin scratches her cheek. “Yeah, that’s - I deserve that, don’t I?”
“It was pretty silly,” Lissa says. “But you’ve sounded pretty smart otherwise, so it’s okay. You know how many silly things my brother says in a day–” 
“None at all,” Chrom cuts in. 
“—but without anything smart to balance it out?” Lissa continues, as though Chrom did not speak.
Frederick, as ever, stoically perseveres, his eyes on the horizon. Long ago he wisely chose that he would not involve himself in petty sibling squabbles. Robin, however, has not yet had cause to make that choice. “You’re awfully mean to your brother,” she says - as if she hadn’t joined Lissa in it back in town. 
Lissa shrugs. “Yeah, but that’s what little sisters are supposed to be.”
Robin raises her eyebrows. “Is that so?” she asks, glancing to Chrom for confirmation, as though he’s going to say yeah, my little sister is doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing every day of her life by calling me a dummy. 
“Do you have any siblings?” Chrom asks. He thinks that her answer may clear the matter up quickly, or add a confounding new layer to it.
She shakes her head. “Just myself and my mother.”
“Lissa is convinced, that as my baby sister, it’s what she’s supposed to do,” Chrom says. “It does not mean she’s actually supposed to.”
Lissa skips up behind him and tries to kick him in the back of the leg. 
“I still don’t understand,” Robin says. 
“You won’t,” Chrom says. Lissa tries again to kick him. 
“I find it better to simply carry on and not acknowledge any squabbling,” Frederick says. “It will pass momentarily.” 
Robin nods and steps up beside him, leaving Chrom with room to try to ruffle Lissa’s hair while Lissa continues to try to kick him in return. A part of him has concerned himself with the impression that this will make on Robin, but she already seems to have taken easily to Lissa - and most of the Shepherds could be said to be a bit eccentric. If she couldn’t handle Lissa then what would her introduction to the other Shepherds look like?
He might be getting a bit ahead of himself.
Frederick and Robin are discussing weapons training, and if Chrom has heard right, Robin has been running the same drills since she was eight. “After we left the mercenaries, there was no one to teach me,” she says, and yes, that really does sound like it - and that means that Robin was a child traveling around with a bunch of mercenaries. Her mother worked as a mercenary with a child in tow. It’s impressive, Chrom thinks, if unfortunate.
He should just go for it. At a lull in the conversation, he clears his throat and steels himself. “Robin,” he says, and she sharply turns to look at him, eyes wide and then narrowing in suspicion. “I meant what I said earlier about the Shepherds needing a tactician. I know this is a very large thing to ask so suddenly of someone I’ve just met, but you’ve proven yourself willing and able to fight for the people of Ylisse - I’d be honored if you would consider joining us.”
“Join—” Her eyes widen again. “You want me to join your… Shepherds, as a tactician?”
“I do,” Chrom replies. “You are more than free to say no—”
“Milord,” Frederick says. “This is very sudden indeed.”
“I know, Frederick. But I said to you the other day - we have to be on the lookout for others willing to help us, no matter where we might find them. Even if your answer is no, Robin, and I’d understand that, I’d rather ask than wonder.”
Robin is quiet, her jaw moving like she keeps stopping moments before a question surfaces. Finally she says, “There are more than just the three of you, I hope?”
“Wh - yes! There are.” Her answer is a question that is not an outright rejection, so Chrom tells her a little bit about the others within the ranks of the Shepherds. He explains that they go wherever they’re needed, because the pegasus knights have to focus on the border and especially the Exalt, and with the situation with Plegia as it is, there’s more and more need to keep the Exalt protected. Robin is ready with a deluge of questions, but when she has exhausted them, she gives no further answer. That she has not outright said no bodes well - though Chrom tries to temper that hope. She has not said yes, either. 
-
The sun is gone from sight and its light fading in the sky when Robin leads them off the road, into the trees. Frederick lights a torch which he carefully maneuvers beneath the hanging branches, and Robin conjures a ball of lightning that hovers above her head and illuminates little more than the ground directly beneath their feet. Chrom can sense Frederick’s ever-increasing suspicion - it would be easy for them to disappear here.
“Before we arrive,” Robin says, stepping over a tree root which Lissa stumbles on, “I should warn you that my mother is - well, she can be - she’s rather… brusque. If she starts to make you feel like you’ve personally offended her, you haven’t; that’s just how she is, I promise.”
She stops, holding up a tree branch to let the three of them easily duck beneath it. Lissa’s furious grumbling does not cease, but she grumbles something that might be a thanks in Robin’s direction. Robin smiles, just a little.
“Just as long as you’d understand some of the other Shepherds to be rather… odd,” Chrom says. He told her that the Shepherds have come from all manner of backgrounds, with all manner of skills. And while he’s sure that when he described Miriel as a scholar of magic, Robin can probably conjure in her head an image that’s similar to the real Miriel, describing Sully as a dedicated knight doesn’t capture what makes her Sully. And then what can even be said about the likes of Vaike?
Robin lets go of the branch behind him. “I think we have an agreement,” she says, and Chrom though he wants to does not ask if that is an agreement as someone who would be their tactician, because how weird the Shepherds are won’t actually matter to her if she never meets or joins them.
Lives alone in the woods with her mother is still very much not in the kind of recruit Chrom expected to be considering, to be hoping for, but - Ylisse is in dire straights, indeed. Lives alone in the woods with her mother is the start of fairy tales of witches who eat children. 
And just as it seems that they will forever be surrounded by trees, just as Chrom is seriously trying to dig up the memory of any such witch stories, they step forth into a clearing. A fence, half constructed, partially circles a chicken coop, and past it sits a plain, weather-worn house. “Mama!” Robin calls, breaking the spell of the quiet hum of nature. “Mama, I’m back! And I brought company, so don’t be alarmed!” She glances around and stares at the chicken coop for a moment longer, and then yells louder, “Mama!”
The door of the house swings open. “I heard your squawking the first three times, birdie,” rasps a voice from within, and Robin’s magic lightning-light is joined by three small white flames which pop up into the air above the stoop. They illuminate an older woman with a stress-lined face and thin hair the same color as Robin’s where it isn’t starting to gray. “What in hell do you mean, you brought company?”
Robin holds out a hand and gestures to them. “Mama, this is Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick. They’re part of a militia and they helped me fight off brigands from town. I offered them a place to stay on their way back to Ylisstol. Everyone, this is my mother, Morrigan.”
Morrigan has the same cold and appraising glare as her daughter does. Even as she approaches Robin, her wary eyes continue to rove across Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa. She takes her daughter by the chin and turns her head side to side before she roughly lifts one of Robin’s arms away from her side, like she’s inspecting her. “Mama,” Robin sighs. “I’m not hurt.”
“Hmph.” Morrigan drops Robin’s arm and, over her shoulder, meets Chrom’s eyes with that withering gaze again. “Then I suppose I should thank these strangers for bringing my daughter home in one piece.”
“Not at all,” Chrom replies. “She helped us a great deal, as well.”
Morrigan’s attention snaps back to Robin. “Then you haven’t learned a thing from this, have you?”
Robin frowns. “What am I supposed to have learned? That everyone in town was right when they worried about being attacked? That I was right when I said they had no one to protect them? 
“They did have someone to protect them!” Morrigan waves her hand through the air, a broad, sweeping gesture that encompasses Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa all. “But what of you, next time you go running off alone to defend strangers?”
She warned them that her mother was brusque, but Chrom starts to think she did not warn them that they would walk right into the middle of an ongoing argument.
“I’m not going to hide away while the countryside burns around us!” Robin says. Her gloved hands at her sides tense into fists, and she glances back at Chrom. “And I won’t be alone next time. They asked me if I’d come with them and help them fight, and I will.”
Chrom has spent this long waiting for her answer and now he’s been blindsided by it. “Wait,” he says. “You will?”
He’s not sure either of the women heard him. Morrigan stands statue-still, her expression unreadable; Robin stares back. “I know what you’re going to say,” Robin says, “and I—”
“Grab more firewood on your way in, if you please, birdie,” Morrigan says, turning away from her daughter and to the door. “Since I’ll be cooking up extra for our company.”
The door snaps shut behind her.
“Oh dear,” Lissa says.
Robin’s mouth, still open, closes slowly. She stares at the door. “That was,” she says, dragging a hand through her hair, only for it to immediately fall back into place over her forehead, “not what I thought she was going to say.”
“Er, right,” Chrom says. “Listen, Robin, I know I was the one to ask if you’d come with us, but if - I don’t want to be the person responsible for ruining your relationship with your mother—”
“Oh, it’s not you,” Robin says, directing them around the house to a pile of unsplit firewood and an axe, which Frederick immediately grabs and sets to work. Chrom takes the pieces he has chopped down to size, while Robin and Lissa gather the splinters into a kindling pile. “We argued before I left, too. She told me not to be stupid and risk my life, so then I snuck out and left before she got up the next morning.”
“You didn’t even say goodbye?” Lissa asks, her mouth hanging open. Chrom knows she is imagining doing that to Emm - how unthinkable to set off on a mission without their sister knowing. But Emm would never try to stop them, either; they all know what they must do for their people. They all agree on the responsibilities and the cost. Robin and her mother, evidently, don’t.
“We would have started arguing again,” Robin says. She picks up a sliver of bark that cracked off of a log and slowly bends it until it snaps. “I’d say I couldn’t stand by and do nothing; she’d say that it’s foolish to put myself into such danger for the sake of people who wouldn’t do the same in return.”
“What do you mean by that?” Chrom asks. “That - doesn’t seem right, to assume that of people without knowing them.”
“Yeah!” Lissa agrees. “Everyone in town was really grateful! They would’ve fed us!”
She turns a glare on Frederick, presumably for not letting them stay and indulge in that feast. Frederick, however, is not looking at her - and anyway, he would tell her anyway that she still has a roof to sleep under and someone else assisting with the meal, so she cannot complain. They could, he would say, be sleeping in the woods.
“Back when we were still with the mercenaries,” Robin says, “my mother saved every bit of gold she could. After years and years she had enough that every little town we passed through she’d ask around if there was enough room for a mother and her daughter to settle. But all the same people who gladly paid for her to risk her life and drive off a few ruffians balked at the thought of actually letting her - us - into their communities.” 
She stares at the pieces of bark in her hands and drops them into one of the coat pockets where she has been gathering kindling. “It’s easy to be grateful to a stranger who sets off down the road at the end of the day; harder to welcome one into your peaceful village where you’ve known everyone since the day they were born. So we keep to ourselves out here, and she travels into town every week or two to trade, and we’ve always managed like that.”
“Until now,” Frederick says, “when we find you in a town under attack, rather than keeping safely to yourself.”
He does not try to conceal the air of mistrust which hangs around his words. 
“Mama came home last week telling how bandit attacks are more and more frequent,” Robin replies, “and that people in the village are afraid that they’ll be hit soon. The forest out here will burn the same as a town if we hide away waiting for war to reach us. Or, I could go to meet it and perhaps make a better defense - I understand your suspicions, but all I can tell you is the truth. I heard they were afraid and I wanted to do something.”
“And the truth is, Frederick, that she helped us,” Chrom reminds him. 
“And the truth is that the task of wariness has always fallen to me,” says Frederick. “Someone must be.”
“You and my mother are quite alike in that regard,” Robin says. 
Frederick nods curtly. When the four of them return soon to Morrigan with the requested wood, they find that she has not started food preparations yet; she has waited to ask for their help. And that means that Frederick has an excuse to hover by Lissa’s shoulder. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself (of course she’s not going to hurt herself; she knows how to cook). Make sure everything that goes into the meal is something that should be there (Frederick would hover to keep careful watch of ingredients anyway, but he is polite enough that he would rather have the excuse).
(Chrom wonders if the reason that Morrigan waited was to give them the excuse.)
The house is not furnished for guests, and when it is time to take their meal, Chrom finds himself seated on the floor with Frederick and Robin. A stool in the corner goes unused; Robin had insisted that she did not invite guests in so that they could all sit on the floor, Frederick had insisted that Lissa and Chrom seat themselves before him, and Chrom had insisted that he couldn’t further impose on Robin by kicking her away from her own table. 
“You’re all so stubborn,” Lissa says from where she sits above him at the table with Morrigan, and even though Chrom isn’t looking at her, he knows she is rolling her eyes. 
“If they all wish to be so foolishly sacrificing, then that is their prerogative,” Morrigan says. She almost sounds as if she is making a joke. 
Robin shed her long coat when everyone came inside, but she still wears her gloves. “Yes Mama, it certainly is,” she says, and as she lifts her bowl to drink the broth her eyes flicker towards Chrom in a way that he can only think means something like watch this or well this had to come back up sooner or later. 
Morrigan sighs deeply. “So,” she says, her attention turning without even a glance towards Robin, “this militia of yours.”
She asks many of the same questions that Robin did, but every single one of them feels particularly pointed in a way that Robin’s didn’t. And that makes Chrom feel like every answer he gives is the wrong one, especially the times when Morrigan will glance at Robin and something will pass between them. But whether they agree or disagree with each other, Chrom can’t begin to guess.
Only once everyone finished cleaning their dishes does Morrigan finally address her daughter again. “You know what I’m going to say, birdie.”
“Yes, Mama,” Robin says. 
“And you’re going to tell me none of it changes your mind, is that so?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Then that’s it, is it not? If nothing I’ve already told you will stop you, then I’ve nothing new to say that will change your mind now. You well made your point running off like that.”
It is dark outside, and in the quiet inside, even past the windows, Chrom can hear the chirping and chittering of the insects in the woods. He almost wishes to grab Lissa and Frederick and drag them out into the night; this feels like a conversation that no one else should be privy to. Robin stands rooted in place, still holding a towel for drying dishes, staring at her mother who has crossed the room and opened a door on the far wall.
“You could at least give me your blessing,” Robin says quietly. “If I’m going no matter what, I could at least not feel like I’m abandoning you.”
“My blessing to throw yourself onto the front line of a fight?” Morrigan asks, her hand still on the doorknob, and Chrom glimpses what appears to be a bedroom past that. “I want you safe. I can’t tell you I’m okay with this.”
“We’ll burn the same out here as the towns do,” says Robin. “I would rather face the bastards with the torches - die on my feet if I would die either way.”
“There’s plenty terrible fates besides death. You know if you’re captured by those bastards, you’ll be lucky if all they do is kill you.”
Lissa shudders. As royalty of Ylisse, she would be spared from death by her use as a hostage, instead, but Chrom knows that he would rather die than be used against Emmeryn in such a way, and he suspects that Lissa feels the same. Anyone else - especially a woman - captured would face one of several other dire fates.
“I know, Mama.” Robin cracks the knuckles on her right hand. That statement, at least, seems to weigh on her; her words lack the same degree of confidence as her prior answers.
“You do know,” Morrigan agrees. “You’re a smart girl despite yourself.” She sighs. “You’ve my permission to take my damn coat with you, though I can’t fathom what you like so much about it.”
Robin straightens her shoulders. “It has good pockets for tomes and other books,” she says brightly. 
“You know how to sew,” Morrigan says. “You’ve plenty of coats of your own to add book pockets to.”
“But this one already has book pockets,” Robin says. “And I know it’s sturdy enough to take whatever I put it through.”
Morrigan shakes her head. “That damned coat will outlive us both if you’re not careful.”
“I’m careful, Mama.”
“Hm.” With that, Morrigan disappears into the bedroom, leaving Robin staring at the door that closes behind her. 
The only sounds that follow come from beyond the windows and walls of the house. Robin sets the dishrag down and starts massaging her hand again.
“You know,” Lissa says faintly, “you really don’t have to come with us.”
Robin shakes her head. “I told you this would happen no matter what,” she says. “We argued before I left; we’d still be arguing if I came back alone. She’s just trying to protect me but I can’t just - hide here. Meeting you was - it’s safer for me to go with you than to go off alone again. And I probably would.” She reaches towards a chair but as she lowers herself, she ends up on the floor instead, her back resting against the leg of the table. “I feel like I have to go. But I can’t be angry at her. She just worries. She never wanted me to have to fight the way she did.”
“I would hope that most parents should feel the same,” Chrom says, and he thinks of the mess that his father left Emmeryn and hates him again for it.
Robin’s mouth twists into a grimace. Is it over her mother’s protectiveness, or is it a thought about another parent? What brought Morrigan into the mercenary life - what brought the two of them out of Ferox to Ylisse, alone, instead?
When Robin next speaks, she has more questions about Ylisse’s military situation, and they discuss that such situation until she retires to bed in the same room as her mother, leaving Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick to the open floor of the living area. “Better than the woods, right?” Robin asks Lissa with a wink.
“Yeah, Frederick,” Lissa says after Robin has gone. “You wouldn’t have trusted her and had us sleep in the woods.”
-
Chrom wakes in the morning just before dawn. Lissa is still asleep and the bedroom door is closed; Frederick is nowhere in sight, but from outside comes the sound of axe hitting wood. Chrom eases open the front door - its latch already lifted - and around the side of the house finds Frederick splitting more large logs from the firewood pile.
“I woke when Robin left,” Frederick explains. “She said that she intended to go hunting and chop more firewood for her mother before she left with us. I am simply providing my assistance, as thanks for allowing us to stay the night.”
“That’s kind of you, helping out even though you’re sure she’s going to turn around and stab us in the back,” Chrom says. 
Frederick frowns at him. “I am not sure of any such thing, milord. I am cautious, as is prudent, but I always hope that my suspicions should be proven wrong.”
“Frederick?”
“Yes, milord?”
“I was teasing.”
Frederick continues to frown, as though the very concept of a joke eludes him. 
Almost all of the wood has been cut down to size by the time Robin returns with a wild turkey slung over her shoulder. She grimaces at them as she approaches. “What are you doing?” she asks, as though the answer is not obvious as Frederick brings the axe down on a long branch. As though the idea of someone helping her is still so inconceivable. “I said I would handle those–”
“I was already awake and with idle hands,” Frederick replies. “This way we will sooner be able to leave for Ylisstol - and consider this our thanks for providing a place to stay the night, as well.”
This thoroughly practical explanation seems to appease her, and without further protest, she simply says, “Thank you.”
On returning inside, they find both Morrigan and Lissa awake - though Lissa is yawning a great deal - preparing breakfast. “I wondered if you had run off with my daughter and left me this one as a replacement,” Morrigan says gruffly. 
“He’d regret it if he did!” Lissa huffs, staring pointedly at Chrom, though Morrigan’s you could refer to all three of them. 
Morrigan’s attention turns to the turkey that Robin hands her. “Birdie, why were you out hunting?”
“I wanted to make it easier on you when I left,” Robin says. “So you won’t immediately have to go yourself.”
“I’m not infirm, you know,” Morrigan says. “Really now, worrying after me when you’re about to go marching off to battle.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you–”
Chrom really, truly wishes that they wouldn’t start arguing again, but he suspects if he tries to intervene, they’ll both turn on him instead. Lissa’s shoulders slowly hunch up towards her ears, like a turtle retreating into its shell.
“Hell’s bells, girl, I know you better than to think that.” Morrigan sighs and shakes her head. Her tone has less bite than it did yesterday. “Even when you left without a damned note, I didn’t think you were abandoning me. You know what your problem is, birdie?” She smacks Robin’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “You keep looking back over your shoulder while you’re trying to march forward and you’ll get nowhere for it.”
“You’d really prefer I just go?” Robin asks, sounding confused and, even more than that, indignant. “Just leave without any thought to what I’ve left behind?”
“Well, I’d know that you have some confidence in the choice you’re making,” Morrigan says, “if you’re willing to burn your bridges behind you.”
“I’m plenty certain of my path, Mama,” Robin says. “Even without starting any fires.”
Morrigan huffs and turns away. “Then I suppose that will have to be enough.”
Chrom wonders what ashes Morrigan has left behind in her time.
-
Within an hour, they have eaten and prepared to leave. Robin has to be assured several times that Ylisstol has several libraries and large bookstores before she is willing to remove some of the books from her pack and trade them out for extra clothes. Morrigan watches silently, grumbling some answers only when Robin asks her which tomes she would rather keep here. Despite his time with Ricken and Miriel, Chrom doesn’t recognize any of the tomes; he can only guess, based on the magic she cast yesterday, that the two tomes Robin selects, each emblazoned with a yellow rune on its cover, are probably Thunder magic.
He pulls Lissa and Frederick outside soon after, to give Robin and Morrigan a private moment to say goodbye. It gives Frederick one last opportunity for questions as well: “Milord, you are certain?”
“I am,” Chrom says. “She went out of her way to help, at great risk to herself. My heart tells me we can trust her.”
“Your heart, yes; and what of your head?” Frederick asks. 
“My head is telling me that this situation with Plegia will not be so easily solved,” Chrom says. “We can use the assistance of anyone willing to offer it.”
“I like her,” Lissa says. “I think she’ll be a great addition to the Shepherds! You worry too much, Frederick.”
“I find that I worry quite the proper amount,” Frederick replies, “given the circumstances.”
The door creaks open, and the object of one of those worries steps out onto the stoop. Morrigan clasps one of Robin’s hands between both of her own. “I know, Mama,” Robin says, exasperated, like she’s said it again several times already. “I know. But I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Hmph. I’ll just have to believe you, won’t I?” Morrigan pats Robin’s hand twice before releasing her, slowly, her bluster failing to mask her reluctance. “Goodbye, birdie. Don’t be a fool.”
“It’s not goodbye,” Robin says. “Ylisstol isn’t far. You know where to find us - and I’ll be home again, once everything’s calmed down.”
Morrigan shakes her head. “I don’t need you to home to stay. I just need you safe, wherever you are.” She turns her dark, piercing gaze over to Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick. “And I hope for all your sakes that I won’t hear that these skirmishes have turned to war.”
“The Exalt would say the same,” Chrom replies. And he - of course he doesn’t want war, either, but there well might come a time that these incursions turn to one, no matter what Ylisse - and Emmeryn - want. Emmeryn can hope, but Chrom has to prepare.
“Hmph.” Morrigan does not sound convinced, but she has not sounded particularly convinced by anything, especially not where the intentions of other people are involved. “But those fools in charge of Plegia hardly seem to agree, now do they?”
They call him the Mad King for a reason.
Robin steps back from Morrigan, slowly, and then another, until she stands with Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa. “I’m sorry I didn’t finish building the fence, Mama,” Robin says.
“Bah.” Morrigan waves a dismissive hand at her. The facade has sprung back up over the concern she showed mere moments ago. “If you apologize for everything you didn’t finish, you’ll be here all day. Get going, you fool girl. Stop looking back.”
“Yes, yes,” Robin says with a smile and a small laugh. “We’re going.”
“Thank you,” Frederick says, bowing to Morrigan, “for your hospitality. It is greatly appreciated.”
“Yeah, Chrom probably would’ve hunted us a bear to eat or something!” Lissa says. “Thanks for not feeding us bear!”
At that, Morrigan laughs, but it still sounds strained. Why wouldn’t it - she put these strangers up in her home and in return they stole her daughter from her. Chrom elbows Lissa, and to Morrigan, he says, “Thank you,” hoping she’ll understand that it is, really, about much more than the prospective bear meat.
He hunts normal animals, usually. Why does Lissa only remember when he brings down a bear?
“Bear’s not so bad,” Robin says, taking the lead out of the clearing to guide them back to the main road. The forest swallows them in an instant, the greenery pressing in on all sides. Robin weaves her way along a faint trail that Chrom can only see because he knows she’s following it; she stops and holds the branches of a bush back for Lissa to pass by.
“What?” Lissa says. “You’re crazy! No offense. I can’t believe we’ve let a lunatic join the Shepherds. We already have a lunatic leading us!”
“Very funny,” Chrom says, easing his way past Robin and waiting for her to resume her guidance.
But she stands there, eyes blank, and Chrom follows her gaze through the trees and the overgrown brush to catch a glimpse of the house out in the clearing, its front door already shut.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
She tears her eyes away and smiles at him. It looks strained at the edges, but the bright spark of confidence is back in her voice as she answers, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
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readingbookelf · 1 year
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The Aftermath - Adrian Ivashkov
Summary: Adrian is crushed when he finds out about Rose and Dimitri. You let him mope for a week and then you force him to get up and start living again. In the end Adrian has a surprising confession.
Warnings: talk about heavy drinking and nicotine use.
Requested: yes
Pairing: Moroi!reader x Adrian Ivashkov
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“Enough of this,” you say loudly when you walk into Adrian’s chambers.
A groan greets you from the bed.
“Hello to you too, Adrian,” you say in a sing-song voice.
His whole room smells like booze and cigarettes. Ever since he found out Rose slept with Dimitri, he’s been cooped up in his room. His biggest fear had become a reality and his heart was crushed. However, he’s been moping for more than a week so it’s time to take steps into civilization. You don’t expect him to get over it so soon, it’ll hurt for a while, but the excessive smoking and drinking has to go.
You rip open all of his curtains accompanied by his windows in the hope of getting rid of the smell fast. Once you get to his bed you hesitate. Adrian’s completely covered by the sheets so there’s no telling if he’s a naked sleeper or not. Deciding to take the risk you rip the sheets away from him. Definitely not a naked sleeper, but half-naked. Your eyes take in his naked chest and the cute pyjama pants you gifted him last Christmas.
“Glad you’re getting some use out of those pants,” you chuckle.
Adrian opens one eye to look at you.
“I could’ve been naked you know,” he croaks.
A blush settles on your cheeks at the thought of Adrian naked in bed.
“It was a calculated risk,” you answer swiftly.
Adrian tries to reach for the sheets again, but you rip them of the bed completely. Might as well, his sheets probably need to be replaced anyway. He lets out a guttural groan and flops  back down on the bed, eyes closed.
“Adrian, no more moping. Time to enter civilization once more,” you state.
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t just get your heart crushed in tiny little pieces.”
If only he knew that your heart had been breaking ever since he started pursuing Rose. Every day your heart broke a little more.
“I know you’re hurting, Adrian. It’s why I’ve let you do whatever you wanted, but no more. No more heavy drinking. No more smoking thousand packets of cigarettes a day. I’m not asking you to put on a smile and act like nothing’s wrong,” you softly tell him.
His eyes open and they instantly land on you. He looks so sad and weighed down. It hurts to see him like this.
“How long has it been,” he asks.
“A little more than a week.”
He sighs and closes his eyes again. You lean closer to nudge his arm, but he swats your hand away and turns his back to you.
“Just take a shower and let’s get some blood, alright,” you hesitantly say.
His eyes open once more and they take you in. His brows furrow together before he says: “Fine, you’re so bossy.”
A genuine smile falls onto your lips, making the corners of Adrian’s lips lift a little. While he’s in the shower, you strip the rest of his bed and get rid of all the liquor bottles. When he walks out of the bathroom Adrian looks a little more like himself, but still unbelievably pale.
You take his arm while you say: “Let’s get some blood into you, mister.”
-----
You accompany Adrian into the room where he feeds of a willing human. Mostly you didn’t want to risk running into Lissa and Rose while you were waiting for him. It’s not that you don’t like them, but ever since Rose broke Adrian’s heart things have been awkward. If there’s one thing you hope to avoid today it’s that awkwardness and all their questions about how Adrian’s doing. You suppose it’s nice of them to check-up on how he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel a little bitter about it.
“How do you feel,” you ask Adrian once he’s done feeding.
A grimace immediately paints your face. What a horrible question to ask at this moment. Before you can rectify your mistake Adrian wraps his arm around your shoulder and walks you outside.
“Better now that I have some blood in me,” he answers with your own words.
You give him a small smile and he’s about to return it, but then his face falls completely when he looks into the waiting area. Your head swivels into the direction he’s looking. Your eyes land on Rose Hathaway, talking animatedly with Lissa. You deflate a little, not immediately knowing how to deal with the situation, until your first night at the academy comes to mind.
You had arrived very late and you were tired from the journey. The bloodbank was actually closed, so officially they weren’t allowed to let you feed until first thing in the morning. But one of the guards had escorted you inside through a back entrance so no one would know they’d let you feed.
“I know a back entrance if you want to avoid the waiting area,” you softly whisper.
Adrian shakes his head and squeezes you a little closer. His eyes are fixated on the exit. His jaw hardens making a muscle jump. When you walk into the waiting area a hush falls over the room. Rumour had spread that Adrian and Rose were no longer together, but as of yet no one knows why.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rose stand up, but before she can make a move Lissa stops her. You give Lissa a grateful nod before walking through the exit.
“Well that was awkward,” Adrian immediately says.
“It’ll get better…eventually,” you respond with a grimace.
You walk back to his room where new sheets adore his bed. It looks a lot tidier than when you entered earlier and the smell is almost gone too.
“This is certainly a step in the right direction,” you mutter to yourself.
-----
And indeed it had been. Adrian stopped drinking completely, and only smoked occasionally. He left his room more. He even picked up his lessons with Lissa again. And every day before the day breaks through the night sky, he would take you on walks. You would walk around, talk about your day, share secrets and reminisce.
Spending all this time with him made your heart beat a little faster, hope encouraging it. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’re feelings for the Moroi weren’t back with a vengeance.
It’s been months since the whole fiasco and you feel confident Adrian is back to his usual self. The Adrian you fell in love with. But when you start your daily walk, you can see that something’s bothering him.  
“Penny for your thoughts,” you ask him.
“I fear my thoughts are worth a great deal more than a penny,” he cheekily answers.
“Is something wrong,” you whisper, fear lacing your voice.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just come to see something in a different light and I can’t figure out how to deal with it,” he answers honestly.
“That’s pretty vague, Adrian. Maybe if you’ll explain, I can help you figure it out.”
He lets out a wistful sigh and stops walking. You stop in front of him, taking him in. He looks serious and thoughtful, maybe even a little nervous.
“It’s you I’ve come to see in a different light,” he whispers softly, afraid to speak the words.
“What do you mean,” you ask barely audible.
“You’re always there for me no matter what. Even when I screw up so badly everyone would turn their backs on me. After the whole fiasco, you were the one who got me out of bed, even though I went on another Adrian fender bender. Something everyone is tired of. So I started wondering why you would never give up on me. And that’s when I remembered the way your aura had dimmed when I was smitten with Rose. It would usually shine so bright, but it just dimmed. And now…now that we’re spending all this time together it’s shining even brighter than before. I think it’s because you like me and hope something might form between us,” he gently whispers into the night.
Fear rushes through your veins. Did he really notice you like him? Stupid auras. Oh no, was this his way of turning you down?
You cast your eyes down, pressure building behind your eyes. Adrian takes your hands in his and squeezes tightly.
“Look at me,” he says.
Your eyes meet his and you find a tiny twinkle in his eyes. Was this amusing him?
He continues talking: “I’m not trying to embarrass you or turn you down. I was actually trying to build up to the question if you’d consider going on a date with me.”
A gasp leaves your lips. Adrian Ivashkov is asking you out.
“I was oblivious to your feelings before, but I’m not anymore. And I must admit I’ve started seeing you that way too. With every minute we spend together, my infatuation grows. So please, will you do me the honours of taking you on a date, my dear y/n,” Adrian says.
You can’t believe your ears. Adrian is asking you out on a date and he’s nervous.
“I would love to go on a date with you, Adrian,” you breathlessly whisper.
Before you realise it, you’re in his arms and he’s twirling you around, letting out a cheerful yell, making you laugh.
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