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the-kittens-of-vol-tron · 3 months

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It's Just Pretend

Hi everyone :)

I'm going to be real with y'all, I am trying so hard to stay invested in this story but I don't particularly like how I've written it. I'm going to finish it, I don't feel like I've given y'all the best story and I'm sorry. But, I hope even despite its flaws it can be enjoyable

Chapter 9: Just Confess

AO3!

Chapter 8

First Chapter!

Word Count: 1,730

---

“And a bowl for you,” Hunk passed Lance a bowl as he took a seat on the chair next to the couch. Shay immediately sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thanks, buddy,” Lance grabbed a couple of pieces of popcorn from the bowl, holding it out for Keith to take a handful. He mumbled a small thanks in return and everyone fell silent. Their eye on the screen.

Lance had his arm on the back of the couch, basically having his arm around Keith. Who sat next to him, his arms crossed over his own chest. Keeping a distance between him and Lance. No one could really say what they were watching. Some random comedy horror movie. It was entertaining, funnier than scary.

Shay has become more tucked into Hunk as the movie droned on. Her chuckles softly as Hunk gently traces shapes into her back with his fingers. Lance had sunk down into the couch a bit more. Keith ever so slightly leaning into Lance’s side. His head found a home on Lance’s shoulder.

The flash of a light.

“Awe you two almost look like a couple!” Pidge turned their phone around, holding it up for the boys to see.

Lance smiled, “awe we are cute. Keith look at us!”

Keith scowled slightly at the photo, swatting Lance’s hand away when he reached over and gently pinched his cheek.

“Awe you look cute. Don’t be so moody.”

“I’m not as photogenic as you.” Keith averted his gaze from the group. Silently plotting how to get that photo from Pidge.

Lance laughed, that stupid laugh. The laugh that made Keith’s cheeks heat up. The laugh that Keith would do anything to keep hearing no matter what. The laugh that Keith didn’t- no, couldn’t lose. God, he couldn’t lose Lance.

“You’re attractive mullet. You’re just not used to seeing yourself.” Lance ruffled Keith’s hair, a small smile on his face.

Keith didn’t know what to say and scooched himself away from Lance, forcing himself to look at the TV. His heart beating out of his chest.

—

“Want some more?” Hunk held an almost empty bottle of wine towards Lance, a drunk smile on his face.

“I shouldn’t but…” Lance trailed off.

“But what?” Hunk pried in a playful manner.

Lance laughed, “But fuck it! We’re on vacation!” He held his glass closer to his best friend and watched the red liquid fill the cup.

Hunk put the nearly empty bottle down between the two of them and they fell into a silence.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Lance mumbled, his head titled toward the sky.

“The moon?” Hunk mumbled back.

Lance hummed, “hasn’t aged a day.”

Hunk chuckled, “Still your first love?” He bumped his shoulder into Lances in a playful manner.

“Haha, very funny. I should have never told you that.” Lance took a swig of his wine, Hunk doing the same.

“Speaking of love,” Hunk lowered his voice to a whisper, keeping his voice between the two of them. Despite the closed window separating them from the outside and inside of the house. “How are you in that department.”

Lance’s heart jumped from his chest into his throat and he did his best to swallow it down. “Oh you know,” he forced his eyes up. Looking at the stars twinkling above. “Pretty dry…but hey it won’t be like that forever.” He released a laugh, hoping Hunk didn’t hear the wetness behind it.

“Lance?” Hunk whispered, his voice holding a knowing tone.

Lance quickly downed his drink, hastily pointing to a set of stars, “That’s Orion's belt!” He belted out, cutting off anything Hunk was about to say. Missing the frown that fell on his best friend's face.

“Yeah, I see it buddy.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur and both of them climbed back into the house from the roof as the sun came up. Lance stumbled into his room as quietly as he could, freezing as soon as he saw Keith’s sleeping body. He found himself just standing there, watching. In hindsight, it was a creepy thing to do but he was drunk so he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Lance finally stepped forward and crawled into bed next to his friend. Keith almost immediately pressed his face into Lance’s chest.

Lance could only focus on his heart, pounding in his ears. He gently pushed a couple of strands of hair behind Keith’s ear, suddenly becoming overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him.

Keith looked so peaceful, gentle, and safe. Lance had grown to truly love him.

He loved him.

Lance closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around Keith; holding him.

Feelings aside, he knew he had to start pulling back so Keith could find someone he actually liked. And Lance could move on.

—

“And a vanilla cone for you.” The gentleman with bright red hair and a middle lip piercing held out a napkin-wrapped cone toward Keith.

“Thanks,” Keith stepped off to the side, letting Lance wait for his cone next. Pidge and Matt were nowhere to be found. Hunk and Shay were sitting on a bench if too the right, sharing a banna spit with each other. Shiro and Adam were having a debate on whether ice cream cones or milkshakes were better. A constant debate that Keith didn’t understand because they were both ice cream.

He tried to focus on his own cone, ignoring the jealousy that turned in his gut. He wanted to be in love. He wanted to share a dessert with someone and have a dumb debate that didn’t lead to an argument. He wanted something real.

But he knew he wanted Lance like that.

He had been thinking more about it since his talk with Shiro on the hike. He liked Lance, that wasn’t a secret. He would even dare to say that they were very compatible in almost every department. He knew he didn’t want to ruin their friendship and he was terrified of telling Lance that he liked him. But what was the worst that could happen? Lance rejects him and they keep living their life? It might make the fake breakup easier to process and apply to real life. He couldn't lose Lance but he also couldn't drag himself through this fake love forever.

He frowned slightly, repeating what Shiro said in his mind. “You’re right, but I can see it in his face. He likes you, Keith. More than I think you realize. Hell, maybe even he realizes.”

Shiro was usually right about things like that. He clocked that Adam liked him long before Adam even figured out that he was gay. He had almost a 6th sense when it came to feelings. So, maybe he should trust Shiro in this regard?

He fought back a sigh, silently coming to the conclusion that when the 11th month of their fake relationship and lease hit, he would say something. He would finally confess. Even if he was scared, he was going to do it.

Lance’s flustered laugh made its way through the air, breaking Keith from his internal monologue.

His eyes snapped to his friend, his heart skipping a beat as soon as he registered what he was seeing.

Lance was rubbing the back of his neck, a soft smile on his face, his head ever so slightly tilted to the left.

Keith held his breath, unknowingly until his lungs ached. He stood there, unmoving. Not even registering the ice cream dripping onto his fingers. Just watching. Watching Lance and this, he shifted his eyes, mystery man talk.

Maybe he could have heard what they were saying if he forced himself to focus. Or if he had been born with the ability to regulate his emotions like so many of his peers could do easily. Okay, he knew you weren’t born with that skill but the instructions to obtain it were unclear to him.

Currently, Keith was imploding on the inside, which seemed dramatic but that stance said more to Keith than anything. That stance Lance was holding was his-

“Keith?” Shiro placed his hand on his shoulder, effectively forcing Keith to take a breath. Nearly choking on the action in the process. Shiro quickly moved Keith to a bench, making the action seem normal, and calculated.

Adam pressed some napkins into Keith’s hand and took a seat next to Keith.

“What’s going on buddy?” Shiro dropped his voice, keeping the conversation between the three of them.

Keith swallowed around nothing, focusing on keeping himself calm and collected. “That stance.” He tried to nod his head toward Lance, unsure of how clear he made the action.

“What? Lance wanted to leave the conversation?” Adam questioned.

Keith shook his head, “No, I know that stance. That’s his…” he chewed on his lower lip briefly, “someone flirting with him' stance.”

Shiro and Adam both made noises of acknowledgment.

“Doesn’t mean he’s flirting back right? He’s a good-looking guy with attention issues,” Shiro joked. Trying to lighten the mood.

Kieth wanted to agree, he was going to agree. Until the mystery man handed Lance his phone, which Lance too with a wide smile. His fingers flew across the screen. He gave the phone back with a wide grin and made his way towards Hunk, a small jump in his step. Seeming to be unaware of Keith and his obvious emotional turmoil.

“Were you going to confess?” Adam took a swing of his milkshake and Kieth could feel Shiro’s eye-roll without looking at him.

“Way to be subtle, Adam,” Shiro whispered harshly.

“What? He’s a direct kid, it’s better to be direct. Right, Keith?” Adam shot back.

“Uh yeah.”

“Yeah to Adam’s question or yeah you were going to confess.

Keith hesitated, “both.”

“It’s not too late,” Adam said. “Flirting doesn’t mean you lose your chance.”

“He gave him his number,” Keith said back. His brain trying to convince him to simply run away and never speak to Lance ever again. He didn't want to deal with these emotions.

Adam shrugged, “maybe they bonded over something. Plus, Shiro has gotten plenty of numbers from people, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Shiro hummed in agreement, “Sometimes it just is an ego boost.”

“Okay,” Keith took a shaky breath, “I’ll still tell him. I just need time.”

“You have time, just take it day by day.”

“I’ll try.”

---

Unsure when the next update will be, won't be as long of a break as before. I work 7 days a week so I only have so much energy to write

Thank you for reading and the support <33333

#its just pretend #klance #fake engagement #posted to ao3 #chapter 9 #kangst #pining #pining lance #pining keith #vld #voltron legendary defender #lance vld #keith vld #thank you #<333333

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

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Break Up: Brian Zvonecek x Reader

Tagging: @justmeandanoverdrive @cosmic-psychickitty @shay-o-fiction @k-k0129 @brianbabygirlzvonecek @ikbenplant @ortega29 @undead-dancing

“I’m sorry to hear about your breakup.” You said to Brian as the two of you stood outside of Molly’s smoking a couple of cigarettes.

“I’m not.” He said gloomily, blowing a stream of smoke out of his mouth. “She was fucking Tommy Welch.”

You pulled a face.

“You know it’s not you right?”

“Seems like it, have you met Welch?”

You had, at least in passing. He was brash and loud, his firehouse rumoured to be a boy’s club. He’d made a pass at you a few times, but he was as far from your type as humanly possible.

“Trust me I’m not a fan.”

There was silence between the two of you before Brian leaned back against the wall, his head tipped back so he could look up at the stars.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.” He admitted exhaling deeply. You watched the smoke plume into the air.

“There’s nothing wrong with you Brian.” You told him, dropping the stub of your cigarette onto the pavement before crushing it under your boot. “You deserve someone who cares about you for who you are. Someone that doesn’t strip away your self-esteem.”

Brian took another drag before looking at the cigarette in his hand.

“You know I started smoking again after I got together with her.” He told you, rolling it between his fingers. “I’d been off them five years before that, should have been a sign, right? I kept telling myself it would get better…”

He bowed his head before stubbing out his own cigarette.

“But it didn’t?” You prompted gently.

“I guess she was right, I just wasn’t worth the effort.”

Your hand enclosed on his arm. Warm fingertips bringing him back to the present as he turned to look at you. There was a fierceness in your eyes, an anger and for a moment he thought you were mad at him.

“Brian…” You struggled to find the right words. “You are wonderful. Do you know how handsome you are? How kind and considerate? She was a fucking idiot.”

Colour flushed across his cheeks, the edges of his mouth twitching upwards as he rose his eyes to meet your gaze.

“You really think I’m handsome?”

“Yea.” You told him resolutely. “Yea I do.” There was an intensity in your eyes, an honesty and he thought he might just believe you. “Let me buy you a drink.” He said with a bashful smile. “Then you can tell me all the other things you like about me.”

Love Brian? Get added to his tag list!

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middleearthpixie · 11 months

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Wanted Man ~ Chapter Twenty

Summary: A price on his head, Loki of Asgard finds himself stranded on Earth and in need of one woman's help in order to free himself from the bounty and try to reclaim what he sees as his rightful throne in Asgard.

McKenna Carlin just wanted to put a horrible day behind her. She had no idea that things would get worse before they get better…

Pairings: Loki Laufeyson x ofc McKenna Carlin

Characters:McKenna, Loki, Thor, Shannon, Tony, Agent Phil Coulson

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @fizzyxcustard @court-jobi @guardianofrivendell @piggledy-higgledy @evenstaredits

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here!

She landed hard on the soft sand, her knees buckling to send her sprawling facedown. Every part of her body hurt from the impact and she had no strength to do anything but just lay there for a few minutes, stunned, until little by little, she realized it was dark. A cool breeze blew in off the water, helping to clear her head and with a low groan, she rolled onto her back to stare up at the star-spattered night sky.

For a moment, she wondered if she’d just fallen asleep on the beach and dreamed everything that happened. But that couldn't be right, either, because how else would she have gotten to the shore? It all had to have happened.

And that meant…

No, don't think about that.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the dull ache that crept along her spine to settle in her head. How long had she been in Asgard? She had no idea how much time had passed. She didn't even know what day it was.

Waves crashed softly against the shore, the sound soothing as her head slowly cleared, and as she gazed out across the water’s sparkling surface, a heavy sigh rose to her lips. “You can’t sit here all night,” she muttered. “But…”

She twisted to peer over her shoulder at the Winchester. What if she had been gone long enough that her room had been let to someone else? Where would her things be in that case?

“Only one way to find out.”

With that, she pushed herself up to her feet, her knees threatening to go to sponge, but thankfully they held up, although walking across the shifting sand wasn't the easy thing just then. Still, she made her way back and up onto the Winchester’s back patio.

“Kenna?

She jumped at the unexpected sound of Shannon’s voice and turned to her left to see her rising from a chair at the far end of the patio, a look of utter relief on her face as she skirted the other tables to grab McKenna in a tight hug. “Oh, thank god you’re okay!”

“Wait, wait…” McKenna pulled free, painfully aware of the other diners around them, staring at them. “I need to sit down and I need a damn drink.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Shannon grabbed her arm and pulled her around to her table, where McKenna sank into the other chair and rested her elbows on the table, her head in her hands, while Shannon flagged down the server.

“What can I get for you ladies?”

McKenna looked up, her mind still on the fuzzy side as she said, “Uhh… a Dark and Stormy, please.”

“You got it.” The server turned to Shannon. “And you?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“I’ll be right back with your drink.”

McKenna nodded. “Thank you.”

Shannon waited for the server to leave, then said, “What happened? Where were you? Where’s your god?”

Her head pounding, McKenna rubbed her forehead as she replied, “What day is it, Shay?”

“It’s Sunday, Kenna. You’ve been gone a week.”

McKenna jerked up. “What?”

“Yeah, you’ve been gone a week. Where were you? And where is your god?"

The image of Loki being dragged away in chains flashed through McKenna’s mind and she winced as her headache came roaring back. “He’s… he’s not coming, Shay. We… he… it’s a long story.”

“Well, S.H.I.E.L.D must’ve been expecting him as well, because that little guy? Coulson? He’s been staying in your room.”

McKenna winced. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit… I’ve got to call Scott and hope I still have a job.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kenna. I talked to him a few days ago and told him you were sick. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” McKenna lay her hands flat against the table and as she did, the diamond on her hand glittered under the soft lights strung about the patio’s perimeter.

Shannon’s eyes widened and she reached across the table to grab McKenna's hand. “Is that a diamond? Did you come back from space engaged?”

McKenna looked down at the ring again and her throat clenched as she nodded. “I—I did.” She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “Please… I—I don't really want to talk about it right now, if it’s all the same.”

“Yeah. Right. Okay.”

The server returned with her drink, which she downed and then said, “I’m sorry, Shay, but I just… I need to be alone right now. After I convince Agent Coulson to give me my room back.”

“I’ll go up with you.”

McKenna nodded, too tired to argue about it, and they went above. At her room, Shannon said, “You want to just bunk with me tonight?”

“No. No offense, but, I just really need some time alone, okay?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Breakfast tomorrow?”

“You’re on.”

McKenna waited until Shannon’s door closed, then went to the room that had been hers and rapped lightly on the door.

“Miss Carlin,” Agent Coulson said as he opened the door. “I was beginning to get worried about you. Come in.”

“Loki isn’t with me.”

“Nor did I expect him to be.” He stepped aside and waved her in. She hesitated a moment, then stepped over the threshold, and he closed the door behind him. “Are you all right?”

“He didn't kidnap me, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She braced herself for the sight of the room, only to find that Loki’s belongings were nowhere to be found. Somehow, that stung more than she thought seeing them strewn about.

“You should understand, I’m only concerned for you because I know Loki, have dealt with him before.”

“I know.” She met his dark eyes and nodded. “But, I’m going to go out on a limb and tell you that I’ve probably come to know him far better than you ever will and I was in no danger at all.”

He offered up a mild smile. “Is that so?”

“It is and as you can see, I’m alive and in one piece and if you don't mind, I’d like my room back. I appreciated your keeping it, but now… please?”

He didn't say anything at first, but just looked at her. She held his stare, ready to argue with him about it, but to her surprise, he bobbed his head. “Of course. Oh, and your cell.” He held up her phone, then set it down on the coffee table.

As he walked over to her, he held out a business card. “If you need us for anything, please reach out.”

She took the card, but once he left and the door was closed behind him, she crumpled it up and threw it in the bathroom trash can, then went back out, where she stood and just stared at the neatly made bed. A heavy sigh worked its way up from the soles of her feet, and she had to look away, so she moved to the windows, overlooking the beach. All she could see was the moon’s silver path shining along the water’s surface.

She had no idea how long she stood there, but finally, she had to make herself look for Loki’s clothes, which she found folded in the dresser drawers as if Coulson expected Loki to return for them at some point.

Well, he wouldn’t. Not ever.

The tears came then in full force. She sank onto the loveseat, face buried in her hands, and sobbed until her vision swam and her head ached. She half-expected to see him come out of the bathroom and tease her for all the crying she done today.

God, was it only a few hours ago they were lying on the golden beach, with only the sun covering them? Was it only a few hours ago she was finally able to tell him she loved him? Damn it, why hadn’t she said it sooner? She was such a coward sometimes.

She’d known him just a little over a week and yet she missed him as if she’d never been without him and suddenly found herself so. It was almost ten days since she’d come out of her bathroom to see a strange man dressed in green and black leather and gold lying on the rug just inside her apartment door. And ten days ago, she just wanted him to leave.

Now she would have given anything to have him back.

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking, her muscles aching from the force of her crying. She cried until her head ached and she couldn’t breathe through her nose, and her eyes wanted to just fall out of their sockets, until there seemed to be no water left in her body.

Then she fell asleep.

***

When she opened her eyes, it was morning and for a moment, she expected to feel the cool brush of Loki's lips against her neck, the comforting tightness of his arm about her waist.

But then reality sank in and she wanted to throw up.

She rose to go into the bathroom. She started the shower, and then walked back to her duffel to retrieve fresh clothes. As she did, the diamond on her finger caught the sunlight and she paused to look down at it. Was she still engaged if she’d never see her fiancé again?

“Yes, because you will see him again,” she whispered. “You are going to get dressed and dig that stupid card out of the trash and go find Coulson and make him get Thor. And then—”

And then what? She was kidding herself. Neither Coulson nor Thor would help her. They both felt Loki was exactly where he deserved to be. But, would it hurt to try? Anything had to be better than just accepting Odin's decision as the end-all be-all. Anything had to be better than sitting and crying some more.

But as she stood beneath the hot spray of the shower, her spirits sank. She so expected to feel Loki's arm about her, to feel his hand sweep her hair aside, to feel his lips on her neck again, just like before. But of course, none of that was going to happen, either. It was probably the shortest shower she’d ever taken.

Her hair still wet, she dug the crumpled card from the trash, quickly packed up everything, including the things she’d bought for Loki, and left the B&B room for the last time. She knocked on Shannon’s door. “I’m going,” she said. “I need to go and find Agent Coulson, and then I’m going home.”

“Are you all right, Kenna?” Shannon asked, leaning her head against the door. “You look like shit, no offense.”

“He asked me to marry him, Shay.” She held out her hand.

“Holy shi—look at that rock!” Shannon grabbed her by the tips of her fingers and practically pulled McKenna's hand to her nose. “Why can’t a god drop into my living room one of these days?” She clicked her tongue against her teeth and released McKenna's hand. “So if he proposed, why are you so—”

“Because Odin sentenced him to an eternity in Asgard's dungeons, Shay. That’s why. I’m here. He’s there. And I will never—” her voice broke and she cleared her throat to try again—“never see him again.”

“Oh, Kenna, I’m so sorry.” Shannon hugged her tight. “And let me guess, you think that little Coulson dude will help you break him out of Asgard jail?”

McKenna ignored the note of sarcasm in Shannon's voice. “I’m hoping he'll get Thor and he will help me.”

“Kenna… don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m not. But I’m not ready to give up entirely, either.” She jingled her car keys in her hand. “I’ll give you a call, okay?”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. I’ll be okay.” McKenna didn’t wait for her response, but turned and walked on down the hallway.

Her Honda was right where she’d left it, and the drive home was far quieter than the one coming down. Her parking space was empty and when she got upstairs, her door was as if nothing had ever happened to it.

She opened the door, smiling down at the cheerful rag rug that Loki had landed on. Nothing in her apartment had changed. There were still plastic shards on the hallway floor, where Loki had destroyed the smoke detector the morning he attempted to cook bacon for her.

She was just putting everything away when a knock came at the door. For a moment, her heart leaped. Loki?

But it was Tony, Shannon's boyfriend, holding a small cat carrier with one very yowly cat inside. Cinder.

“I talked to Shay. She said you should be home by now.”

“Thank you, Tony.” She took the carried and let Cinder out, who twitched his tail as he stalked by her.

When she straightened up, it was to find Tony still looking at her oddly. “Are you all right, Kenna? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine. Just a long few days.” She didn’t know what Shannon had told him about Loki, and she didn’t feel like discussing the situation anyway. Everything was still just so raw.

She’d stopped by the temporary S.H.I.E.L.D. office, only to be told that Agent Coulson was not available and while they would try to contact him and have him contact Thor, she shouldn’t expect them to be successful. After all, he had far more important things to worry about than his brother’s love life.

Tony hugged her. “Let us know if you need anything. Shay told me about the god. Sucks, Kenna. I’m real sorry.”

She patted his back and then pulled away from him. “Thank you.”

“So you call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With that, Tony left and McKenna sank onto her sofa. Her apartment held so many memories now—Loki asleep on the sofa with Cinder curled on his stomach, the night he made it snow, how he carried her to bed that same night when the wine knocked her on her ass, his first experience with zippers.

She smiled sadly up at the ceiling as Cinder hopped up onto her lap and began grooming himself. “He’s not here, Cin,” she murmured, scratching him under his chin. “He’s in a cell very far away and I don’t think he’ll be back. Not in this lifetime, anyway.”

Cinder blinded amber eyes at her and meowed. “Nope. No Chitauri, either. It’s just you and me, baby.”

Another meow. It was almost as if the damn cat understood.

“I know. I want him back, too, Cin. He asked me to marry him. And now? Now this is what we’ve got. But we’ll be okay, right?”

Cinder curled up in her lap and closed his eyes. McKenna let her hand run absently from his head to his tail as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

She’d never felt more alone in her life.

***

The cell in Asgard's dungeon hadn’t changed at all and Loki hated it as much now as he did before. He lay on his narrow bed, a small silver cup in his hand. He tossed the cup into the air. Sometimes he caught it. Sometimes he didn’t.

It hit him particularly hard in the forehead and with a swish of his hand, he sent it sailing across the cell. The silver bounced off the energy wall, sizzling as it hit the ground.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw McKenna as the guards dragged him off. She stood still as if in shock, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears. He would never forget the naked pain etched into her face. He would give anything to be able to wipe it from her forever.

“Loki.”

He sat up and turned to see Thor standing on the far side of the energy field, looking somber and grim. “What is it?”

“I have something for you.”

Loki's hopes rose. “A pardon from the Allfather?”

Thor shook his head. “Sorry, but no. It is a gift from Heimdall.” He was able to ease his hand through the shield, and in his palm, sat a small golden cube. “I will speak to Father again, but do not let your hopes rise.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Loki cradled the cube in his palm as if it were a small animal he was afraid he’d crush, and returned to his bed, where he stretched out once more.

The cube had a small notch on the bottom and when he wiggled his fingers, the cube opened. At first, he wasn’t certain what he looked at, but then, as it dawned on him, everything around him grew blurry as unexpected tears filled his eyes.

McKenna sat on her sofa, with Cinder on her lap, and gazed up at the ceiling. He could see her so perfectly, as if she sat within a few feet of him. Her hair streamed across the back of the sofa, and he could almost feel it when he reached down to brush his fingers over the image.

“Midgardian,” he murmured, swiping at his right eye and then his left. As he watched, he wondered if he could project himself to Midgard. From Asgard to Jötunheim was the farthest he’d ever been able to project, but what if he would reach Midgard?

He set down the cube and practically sprinted to the energy wall. “Thor!”

His brother turned and made his way back. “What is it?”

“Thank you. Truly.”

“For what it’s worth, Loki, I think Father is wrong to keep you here and her there. I understand his reasons, but I think there is more spite behind his decision than wisdom.”

“Then perhaps you will help me out of here once more?”

Thor glanced down at Mjölnir. “I do not know if I can. He was not exactly thrilled with my helping you out of here the last time. I’d rather not find myself in there with you as a result.”

“Put yourself in my position. Imagine if you were told you could never see Jane Foster again. Would you just sit back and accept that, or would you do whatever you could to try to get to her?”

He tried to ignore the feeling of triumph as Thor frowned and said, “I suppose I would move heaven and earth to get back to her.”

“So then, can you fault me for trying to do the same?” Loki stepped up to the edge of his cell, just beyond the energy field. “And you must know I am serious. Why else would I ask for your help again, unless it was because I was truly desperate?”

That brought a grin to Thor's face. “Why else, indeed.” He glanced first over one shoulder, and then the other, and stepped a little closer to the cell. “What did you have in mind?”

Loki smiled then. “What do you think?”

#Loki #Loki Fanfic #Loki x ofc #Tom Hiddleston #Thor #Romance #Is it hot in here?#Jersey girl #Marvel #Marvel fanfic

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the-travelling-witch · 4 months

Text

[𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐛𝐚] Mammon x Holly

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: speechless- dan + shay; ocean eyes- billie eilish; honey (are you coming?)- måneskin; youtiful- stray kids; if not for you-måneskin; greedy- ariana grande; i’m so excited- the pointer sister; show- ado; s-class- stray kids

annoyances to friends to lovers • frequent dates (because mammon can’t go too long without seeing me) • late night drives • matching jewellery and clothes • might as well move into a shared room at this point • stealing his shades and his clothes • quiet nights and whispered confessions • visiting him at modelling gigs • discreetly discouraging stupid ideas • spontaneous shopping trips • neck kisses!!

“Would you still love me if I was a witch?”

“Yer pretty evil already if ya ask me so… yeah”

“Ya look amazin’.”

“You always say such silly things. There’s no need to lie, I can handle the truth”

“Obviously not. I just told ya the truth and ya didn’t handle it well at all.”

[𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐛𝐚] Belphie x Holly

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: nothing- bruno major; snow on the beach- taylor swift; shadow- seventeen; talking to the moon- bruno mars; total eclipse of the heart- bonnie tyler; cover me- stray kids

this relationship fixed my sleep schedule • star gazing dates and comparing the human world and devildom skies • cuddling sessions on the comfiest sheets ever • two sarcastic brats with varying degrees of evil thoughts (luci‘s nightmare) • belphie has no problem standing up for me • loves it when i run my fingers through his hair • i‘m in charge now of brushing his hair, polishing his horns etc (lazy king) • and he lulls me to sleep in seconds • forehead kisses!!

“C’mon sleepy sheepy, wake up.”

“Five more minutes…”

“You said that five minutes ago, Belphie… Hm what a shame, I guess you’re not awake enough to get any kisses yet—“

“Hey now, nobody said that!”

[𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐛𝐚] Satan x Holly

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: show yourself- idina menzel, evan rachel wood; love you like a love song- selena gomez

sarcastic duo • such a gentleman • daily magic experiments • „I wonder what would happen if…“ • safe haven and calming point • “your anger doesn’t define you” • “you shouldn’t hesitate to voice your displeasure”/ “you shouldn’t pretend it’s okay” • saving him from the occasional stupid prank (and inevitable punishment) • cat parents • library and museum / study dates • reading the day and night away • book swaps with annotations • slow dancing > clubbing • fixing his closet

“You know, if you own more than a thousand books you can call your collection a library.”

“… Do you already have plans today?”

#ੈ♡˳ the witch’s lovers┊͙#ੈ♡˳ still missing a ship name┊͙#ship name recommendations are welcome and appreciated!!

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talesofmetalandmagic · 1 year

Text

It’s a beautiful night in the dunes of Shurima.

Azir sits alone behind his coach, gaze lost in the stars that coat the immaculate sky. A warm cup of Koshari Shai smokes by his side, his upper body is tightly wrapped in a fine silk shawl with a border of pearls, and he almost looks at peace to one who doesn’t know his ordeal.

“A coin for your thoughts.”

Nasus smiles at him, sitting by his side upon a nearby pillow. Azir had always loved stars and astronomy. He remembers how he beamed when he lent him his spyglass the first time. Some children are so joyful when toys are put on their hands. Azir was never ordinary.

“They’re not welcoming, dearest.”

“May I help, anyhow?”

Azir shrugs, pulling the silk tighter. “My siblings.”

Nasus brings his hands to his mouth. It’s been a long, long time since this wound was last re-opened.

“It was a night like this when they were gone. I remember the stars, most of all. I’d been following the Silver Sister for a while now.”

Azir takes a sip of sugary tea. The mint is particularly abundant, lest the sweet flavor reminds him of milk and honey.

“Don’t lose your mind in thoughts of loss,” Nasus says.

Renekton could hardly speak as he told him of how all the children were lost. He remembers Jamal clinging to his leg, begging him not to let him die, Aminah and Faruq holding onto each other as they fell, Shazia falling onto the ground with her dagger still at hand.

Nothing could be done. Nothing could be saved, but the lucky one that wasn’t there.

He couldn’t even cry in front of His Imperial Majesty. Nobody could. He never liked tears. Stop sniveling, Azir. They might be watching still. Close his mouth, Renekton.

“I cannot help my mind,” Azir says. “Especially now. We both know why I wasn’t there to die, that night.”

The stars are beautiful tonight, my lord. That’s the perfect chance.

It’s going to be the greatest astral map ever drawn. Oh, Nasus will be so proud.

Be careful, you may slip. Pass me the brushes, quick.

Azir takes another sip and pours Nasus’ cup as well. What would Mr. Etiquette Saif Don’t Cry Tears Are For Peasants Omah the IV ever do about his imperial son pouring a retainer’s cup.

Nasus drinks it down. “You still… care for Xerath.”

“With a heavy heart”, Azir says. “And fear for myself. But yes.”

“After all he put you through… there’s nothing he can do to bring you joy. He’s a heartless man.”

“No, he’s not. Xerath is but what we made him into. I’ve seen his soul before he betrayed me. He loved me, once. He’s the last brother I ever had. And I rebuked his love until he had no more to give.”

Only hatred, and vengeance, and a parody of the crooked machine that tore him, one older than the Empire itself.

“They say the Sundisc itself is the product of suffering.” Ages ago, when even Nasus wasn’t around yet, a mighty beast of the galaxies was ensnared with treachery and forced into a torturous diadem, forever binding him to the same land that enslaved him.

“Is this just how we do things? We take, we exploit, we rip apart. We trample our own brothers for our advancement.”

Nasus stays dumbfounded, watching in disbelief. After all Azir has endured, after the losses and the betrayal, the violence and the isolation, there’s room for love in his heart.

“It’s a choice, my dearest” Nasus says.

Azir gazes absently into the night stars, his eyes damp and sightless. The sky is so beautiful, sometimes he wishes he could wear it into a cloak and enchant anyone who comes to him.

But that was before he touched the bottom of the pit.

“This entire land is build on pain.” Azir sighs. “And I’m still that foolish child that painted stars, because I think I can fix this on my own.”

His father made that pain look beautiful and grand, even as he cradled the dead body of his most brother child. Some weren’t even blossomed yet. There were plushes and toys on the bloodied floor.

No more. No more, land of mine.

I want to do good. I want to build a land that’s warm and gentle. I want Xerath, my brother, to come to me and for it all to be the way it was.

“If that beast could hear me… I’d tell them I’m sorry, that it’s undeserved. That I’ll do my best. I’d pry that diadem off his head myself if need be.”

“You’ve grown so much.”

Quiet bursts, so to hurt the whisperer

#league of legends #lol #azir #emperor azir #omah azir #Nasus #xerath #azir’s new groove #xerath needs a hug

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blissfulalchemist · 2 years

Note

07. — melody with Sahar?

Shay! Thank you so much for the suggestion! I hope you enjoy this little piece of Sahar's past and a teeny tiny moment of soft with she and Marc.

word count: 1.2k

A woman’s voice, soft and higher pitched than her mother’s, comes under the door into Sahar’s room in the blue light of morning. It entices her, wakes her, pulls her toward the door where she can just barely reach the handle to open it with small hands all to step out into a still house. She peeks her head around the corner watching and listening as the woman quietly makes her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. While this stranger hits all the creaky spots, Sahar knows them better than anyone and follows silently, sitting on the bottom stair to see them make preparations in the kitchen, all the while her song continues on.

It’s not English, her young brain can tell that much, but some of the words slip and fall into the confusing category, just too big for her to know yet. She has to know though, has to understand what it means and it is these thoughts that have her going toward the kitchen. Have her clinging onto the door frame, eyes and ears so intent on hearing more that she doesn’t realize she’s startled the woman until the plastic bowl hits the floor. Sahar’s eyes go wide as she braces herself to run, mumbling out an apology, and hanging her head. The woman kneels down, soft eyes matching her smile, “What are you doing down here Sahar? You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry,” she whispers, hugging herself, “I heard you singing. Thought it was pretty.” The woman smoothes out her hair, Sahar mimicking feeling the silk of the hijab beneath her fingertips, “What were you singing?”

“Nothing special, little one, just a poem.”

Sahar tilts her head with a furrowed brow, “What’s a poem?”

“It’s like a story, but with fancier words thrown in.”

“Does everyone sing them?”

The woman shakes her head, “No, some can’t really be sung.” She sighs, “I still can’t believe you and your brother both got my father’s eyes.”

“Will you teach me?” Sahar asks, folding her hands in front of her, “I promise I will go back to bed.”

The woman nods, “So long as you help me with some breakfast tasks.” She lifts Sahar after a vigorous nod, setting her down at the small table. “Here help me slice some bananas.”

After a quick demonstration Sahar is able to talk and work, quite slowly, at the same time. “What’s the po-em you were singing?”

“Do you wish me to recite it?” Sahar nods, “Okay then. Here we go. Listen very closely:

Happy the moment when we are seated in the Palace, thou and I. With two forms and with two figures but with one soul, thou and I. The stars of heaven will come to gaze upon us; We shall show them the moon itself, thou and I. Joyful, and secure from foolish babble, thou and I. All the bright plumed birds of heaven will devour their hearts with envy In the place where we shall laugh in such a fashion, thou and I. This is the greatest wonder, that thou and I, sitting here in the same nook, Are at this moment both in Iraq and Khorasan, thou and I.

What do you think?”

The young girl thinks, pursing her lips and tapping her fingers on the table, “It feels sad but sounds hmm.” She taps her chin, “What does it mean? What’s it about?”

“It’s about….,” the woman pauses, swallowing back emotions she can never have. Ones that she’s given up in favor of keeping a good life for herself and Sahar, one of safety and love and yet….yet it’s so tempting to tell her the truth. She would understand by now, right? Sahar will be able to handle that she must live here with her sister while she must live across the ocean. All of these a maybe, a slim chance, but most of all….the wrong choice as she’s seen how settled her daughter has become in this life. How she already has a mother…., “It’s about missing someone you love that’s far away. How happy you will be when you get to see them.”

“Like when baba comes home from work trips?”

She smiles, “Yes exactly like that.”

“Are you singing it because of maman? Seeing her again.”

“Now what makes you think it’s only your mom I missed,” she laughs, bringing Sahar into her lap, tickling her sides, “Am I not allowed to miss you?” Sahar laughs, squirming to try and get her to stop, “Huh? You’re my favorite niece and I miss you all the time.”

“Okay,” she breathes out between laughter, “Okay. It’s not just about maman.” The woman lets her slip down, Sahar brushing down her pajamas, “So, are you going to teach me or not?”

“Of course I will.” The woman holds her hand out for Sahar to grasp, “Come. Let’s go to your room, I can write it down for you.”

——————————-

Sahar can’t help but sing as she restocks the shelves, one can after the other after the other. The same tune repeated as her mind wanders back to that morning she first heard it. The memory having become blurry along the edges, words in the conversation lost, but the voice drifting up to her room is never forgotten, never tainted, crystal clear and perfect as if some part of her knew that would be the last time she’d ever hear that voice. She’s so lost in the moment that it doesn’t register that she's stopped humming it, taking Marc a little by surprise when he walks in.

He does his best to not disturb her, leaning against the counter watching and listening. He can only pick out a few words in Farsi, none of which give any clue to the meaning or subject matter of the song. He does pick up when it’s repeated and waits for her to finish once more before tapping the bell on the counter. She stops suddenly, head turning slowly with an expression that transitions from annoyance to something softer and happier. “How long have you been standing there?”

He shrugs with a smile, pulling the white mask off, “Not too long really. Enough to enjoy and appreciate the melody.”

Sahar rolls her eyes, reaching out for his hand that he takes, pulling her closer, “So long enough to embarrass myself is what you’re saying.”

He shakes his head chuckling, “Not in the slightest. It was very pretty.” He leans down to give her a kiss, “What is it you were singing?”

“A poem, actually,” Marc cocks his brow, “When I was little my….,” she looks down for a moment, the titles bouncing back and forth. She trusts him, wants to tell him, feels safe enough too, but the middle ground between dating and just seeing each other is too blissful as it is and Sahar knows that opening up even just about something as small as her being somewhat adopted would ruin it, “My aunt taught me it.”

He gives a slow nod of his head, “I see. Want to tell me what poem?”

“Thou and I by Rumi,” she looks down at their interlaced fingers, cheeks starting to flush, “which is something I didn’t know until a few years ago. I could maybe teach it to you if you want some more practice.”

Marc tilts her chin up, giving her a gentle kiss, leaning his forehead against hers when he pulls away, “I think I’d like that very much, Sahar.”

#its just fun to have these moments for me and just! !!!!#sahar mahin oc #x: sunlight #six1six verse #the written word

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lunarmoves · 2 months

Note

You have a point about the shoelaces, I literally wrote in a personal fic of mine where Sun would tie y/n’s shoes for them because they would always tie them uneven and be bothered by it, so Sun started doing it for them cuz you know, he’s a robot, he’s gonna do it precisely and perfectly.

And at first it’s like sure whatever yep, tying laces. Nothing special. But then the closer they get, the more y/n stares down at Sun tying their shoes and wanting it to last longer and looking at him focus on such a task to help them be more comfortable…and Sun notices. And they both got those hearts fluttering and they’re so close together and it’s adorable

YESSS NONNIE U GET IT U GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ive had a one shot sitting in my drafts for like a year about this EXACT thing and i just- GAHH. the closeness that tying one's shoelaces brings!! they are on their knees in front of u or u have your foot propped up on their thigh as they tie the string together. and then double knot it and then give it a little firm tug to make sure it won't come loose!

but ohhhhhhhhhhh oh no!! somehow it has come loose again and the process must repeat over.... and over... and over............................... until BAM! one day they look up while tying ur shoes and ur faces are a tad bit too close together...

#star gazing with shay #a nonny mouse #RUNNIGN AROUND MY ROOM YESS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS #THE YEARNING!!!!!!!

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thatguy03 · 2 years

Text

New teachers - Male tf

Another dollar, another day Coach Gibbons mutters on his way to work. All he could think about was how much of a mistake working for the local high school was. He was the jock in high school, star of the football team, but not very bright. His grades didnt give him many choices out of high school, so he went into education. He didnt actually want to teach, he figured he would just do a quick easy course while he worked to become a personal trainer. He got jacked throughout college but never actually learned how to train properly. Leaving him no choice but to use his degree to work at a high school.

"At least I can teach some football before classes start" he thought to himself. One of very few passions of his is football, he was built for it after all. Broad shoulders, six pack, and strong thighs.

The football practice went by quick, before long he was on his way to the showers. On his way through the halls, he saw through the corner of his eye Mr. Shay looking at him. Gibbons knew Shay was gay and the gaze made him slightly uncomfortable, though it did feed his ego. "I wouldnt be able to resist a sweaty jock like me either" he thought to himself.

He spent the rest of the day zoning out to pass the day faster, only really paying attention to teach football. Soon enough the last period ended, just like any other day, he grabbed his bag and drove home. He got home and headed to the shower as usual, but sees a package on his front step. Weird because he never ordered anything recently. "Free is free I suppose", he though as he brings it to the living room to check what was inside. "New muscle supplement, you have been randomly selected for the free supply of our new muscle growth supplement. It will give you the strength of a powerlifter, the shoulders of a football player, and the height of a basketball player!" He read off the front of the package. It was his dream come true, the extra muscle could be the thing he needs to go pro at football, the height never hurt either. It didnt take much thinking for him to grab the sample and take the entire bottle. "Pro football here I come".

He hopped in the shower eagerly waiting for tomorrow, thinking maybe he would see some results by tomorrow. Just the thought of getting bigger made him hard, rubbing his body as he imagined it getting bigger. He grabbed bicep while flexing, it felt bigger than it had earlier. He moved his hand over to his chest, surprised by how far his chest stuck out. He then moved down to his stomach, which now had a small layer of pudge on it, covering his six pack. Out of curiosity he looked down to see a rounded out hairy gut where his six pack used to be. He started grabbing at the fat in shock as more fat was piling onto his body. He noticed his hands had grown, and his biceps were massive. They had at least doubled in size, he felt so strong it almost distracted him from the Sheer amount of fat on his stomach. His stomach fully rounded out, he couldnt see his feet anymore. His pecs started to go soft as all definition soon got covered in layers of fat and hair. They pushed farther and farther out and got soft, they looked even bigger than most girls' he has seen. He cupped his hands around his flabby moobs and rubbed through the fur on his chest. "Maybe this isnt so bad after all" he started to think to himself.

Gibbons stepped out of the shower to check what he looked like. When he stepped out he was suprised to see that he was almost taller than the mirror himself, he had to have been at least 6'4. He checked himself in the mirror, he now had massive shoulders, hulking biceps, and the thighs of a powerlifter. These came along with a round hairy gut, soft pecs, flabby love handles, and a fat ass. He was now the perfect build for a football player, and all he needed was much bigger clothes.

Before Gibbons could do anything else, he wanted to feel his body out, he now understood why people loved dad bods so much. He loved to be able to grab the fat on his stomach, and to rub through the thick hairs that grew all over his body. Even his dick had gotten bigger, when he was hard it rubbed against the fat on his underbelly. He was naive to think the transformation was over though. As he was feeling around his new body, his gut started to expand, fat piled on his stomach rapidly. It became a massive ball shaped beer belly, it was so heavy he had to lean back to balance. His already soft pecs followed suit and grew flabby and started laying on his belly, he could fit his entire hand in the roll under his over sized man boobs. His face plumped up, with chubbier cheeks to match his new obese body. He even formed a few chins under his thick beard, which had now grown much longer. His ass blew up even fatter than it was before, bigger than any pants could fit. His love handles and pot belly started to hang over his waist obscuring anything under them from view. His thighs thickened to hold his new 6'6 550 hulk of a body. With feet big enough to need custom made shoes. Gibbons was now a bear of man. He thought about how he used to think Mr. Shay was fat, he must have been at least twice the size.

He ordered the biggest clothes online that he find and spent the rest of the weekend exploring the ins and outside of his new body. Monday rolled around and he had his clothes ready to head to football practice. He arrived to the practice almost unreacognizable to the man he was before. With pants that barely contained his ass, and a shirt that his stomach stuck out of, he waddled onto the field begins practice like nothing happened. He loved the feeling of his body bouncing with every step, his belly button exposed to the wind, and his pants almost falling off. It was funny watching everyone try to tackle him to no avail, though he could never make it far without being out of breath.

Once practice was over he made his way to shower at the usual time. He saw Shay at the spot he was always at eyeing him, expect this time he was eyeing Gibbons body. He grabbed his belly and gave it a jiggle and then nodded. They met in the bathroom where Gibbons dominated Shay. He never imagined being able to toss an obese man around, let alone being twice the size of that obese man.

It turns out there a lot of teachers with big hairy bellies that wanted to being topped by Gibbons. It gave him a great idea. He bought a huge supply of the growth supplement he had taken, and put it into food that he had given out at a party he had thrown for all the men at the school. He watched as all of them burst out of their clothing, the already big men got huge, growing to at least 600 pounds, and almost too tall for the building to handle. Even the slimmest of guys got a respectable hairy beer belly to compliment their new bushy beard.

He would spending his time transforming as many men as possible

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theogony · 2 years

Text

Song of the Sea

A/N : hello yes it is I the great aru back after hiatus so long bow down to me and my works /lh. Nah but fr after one month of nothing i finally write this in a coffee induced haze, that too for kotlc and so. anyway god bless you sappho and may you enjoy this shai @gay-otlc (for the kotlc gift exchange!! please tell me the dedication on ao3 has atleast gone through i will be sad if it doesn't </3)

Biana is struck by how similar the mermaid is to the ocean itself. She's devastatingly gorgeous, with a placid demeanour of the ocean mingled within her stare - yet there's a closedness behind it, a darker side she can sense only because of time old senses, honed because of the sea. Under her pinched brow, the mermaid's piercing eyes flit from crew member to crew member, ever so calculative. They're nothing but dismissive glances until she eventually locks her gaze on her - and with an aggressive hiss, she bares her sharp teeth, contorting her features into something treacherously savage.

\\\

Or, where Biana's caught a hell of a catch, yet she's the one enraptured.

Read on ao3!

The first time she sees such riveting blue, Biana Vacker doesn't stop staring.

The waves beneath the ship thrash furiously, and she suppresses the urge to run fingers over her scars, to cover them up, to hide hide hide as she has always done. The sea stretches out into the horizon behind her, almost kissing the disappearing sun, yearning like Icarus for a drop of liquid gold, of freedom. But yet, it remains - so blue and so close, a different shade every day, fading into the changing colours of the dawn.

She supposes that is why she finds herself somehow lulled by the waves. Despite everything the sea takes, the sea is where she has moulded herself into, carving herself a jagged home to stay. At first, resisting - it beat and roared, but now, there's a sense of grudging respect as it follows her everywhere. It is all the language she knows. She has sea hands, a sea heart. She has a direction here, she has a course. She hears the sound of the waves, the coarse wind and the salt and all the stars in the sky.

But the shocking nature of the mermaid's periwinkle eyes - that feels different.

The crew's muttering has slowly risen to a sharp din as she shakes herself out of her thoughts, instead focusing on not staring at her - no, the mermaid - open-mouthed.

Every one of her crew takes a step back, their hushed dialogue abruptly ending. The frightened stillness is broken only by the waves, and Biana suddenly feels small in comparison to her grandeur.

Don't be silly, she scolds herself internally. She's the one in the net while you're the one still standing.

"Biana."

The captain whirls around, relieved to see the furrowed eyes of her faithful quartermaster.

"Good lord Sophie, You could have given me a heart attack!"

Despite the short jib behind it, her voice is pitched slightly higher than usual, and Sophie's eyebrows draw in even further as she steals a glance at the net.

"What are you planning on doing about.."

"I.."

Turning, Biana looks back at the mermaid, heart thudding painfully when she meets her eyes dead-on. Her tail twitches, her scales gleaming brightly in the sun, drawing her like a moth to a flame, and she has a sudden desire to know what they would feel like under her hand. The mermaid smiles, cunning and predatory, as Biana shifts on her heels almost imperceptibly. Nimble fingers snake through the netting, and she leans forward as if poised to strike. She suddenly surges, the netting stitches ripping as she thrusts forward, but the net holds and she simply sways gracelessly across the wooden planks, causing the entire crew to jump back.

She laughs, her sounds echoing the rush of waves crashing on rocky shores.

"Biana!"

Sophie's voice is more urgent, more accusatory now, and Biana curses under her breath as she reties the strings holding the net in place.

"It's fine, I got it," she mutters reassuringly, though it sounds more like she's trying to convince herself instead of Sophie.

She laughs humorlessly, apparently having enough of Biana's bravado for that night, as she pulls her away and begins to berate her.

"Do you not understand that you have captured a mythical beast? Are you out of your-"

"Y-you should listen to your friend," the mermaid interjects hesitantly from her vantage point in the net, carefully shaping unfamiliar words.

Sophie's breath hitches loudly and Biana feels a haze of panic threaten to overtake her.

Her hearing is.... impressive, to say the least.

The mermaid betrays no emotion, other than cold detachment as she recites facts that make Biana feel faint. "She is correct. Keep me, and the Ocean will writhe in Her fury, destroying your ship." Her twitching fingers rip glaring holes in the already stressed net. "That is, assuming, of course, you survive my sibling first."

Her crew retreats back, but Biana can't help but take a step forward, a million questions racing through her mind - but the first query that is shouted isn't her own.

"What makes you think we should be afraid of you?"

Biana looks over her shoulder and sees Stina, her talented navigator with the unfortunate penchant for a tongue that runs faster than their funds. Stina's chest heaves and her feet fidget as her eyes flit between the mermaid and the waters.

Sophie growls a warning, "Stina."

Stina stands up and stares the mermaid down, despite her fear-filled gaze. "Why should we be?" she exclaims loudly. "We can just murder her and that tail will surely be worth a nice profit-"

[-profit? Do you think you're suddenly above us all? his voice sneered, loud and entirely too close, hand too warm too sharp too unforgiving-

There's a sudden crash and Biana registers a dull pain at the side of her shoulder. She bites her lip, trying to suppress the tears falling before they even start. She doesn't say anything in reply to the man - no, her father - who's now mechanically examining her shoulder, checking whether it'll leave a scar.

Her brother has slowly inched into the room, and although he's as still as she is, as complacent as she is, she can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the fact that he doesn't have a put up a play, doesn't have to cake his face with makeup and smile and pretend pretend pretend-

Her father (can she even call him that? Saying Alden is easier than trying to swallow the emotions that flood her when she remembers) drops her hand, before shifting past Fitz, no longer acknowledging the two of their actions.

"Remember. Do not give them any reason to worry", he intones, before he's gone and Biana wants to scream and shout and flood- ]

Everything but the dull end of Biana's blade slamming into the deck is drowned out by the mermaid's scream - and only a few moments from then, even the waves are muffled by the sudden fall of stillness.

Biana inhales deeply, the salty air scratching at the back of her throat. Stina shrinks but refuses to give up, her terror driving her to rebellion.

She growls quietly, her voice raspy and barely controlled in her fury.

"I should let her claw out your throat."

Biana's forearm itches from the thumping's sheer force (but also from something more - scars littering the skin, memories now clawing and trying to overwhelm her), demanding her attention as searing misery coated memories stream in. She takes another long inhale, the smell of fresh fish and sea anchoring her with its familiarity, and waves Sophie's worried look away quietly as she focuses back on Stina, a rage welling up in her chest.

As tragic that it is that Biana is the one that is giving Stina fear - she is really a brilliant navigator, and she has no personal grievance towards her - the white-hot rage threatening to explode out of her chest finds sadistic gratification in the way Stina seems to want to sink through the deck.

"But Captain, it's just a fish-"

Biana growls and looks down at the taller female, her notorious demeanour of the seas enveloping her like a well-worn cape. "People," she stresses, a scowl wrinkling her lips, "are not things to purchase."

In the face of Biana's stone-faced authority, Stina shuts her mouth, and her resistance completely vanishes. The rest of the crew continues shifting, mutters of dissent quieter, and an uncomfortable air grows between them. The waves shift silently, and the smell of brine suddenly grows stronger - but no other complaints are raised until a hesitant voice breaks the silence.

"What?"

Biana whirls around in her heels at the hushed question, coming face to face with the mermaid, the short quip seizing in her throat. Her mind chastises her for turning her back on such a dangerous predator, much alone approaching tantalizingly near - within her arm's reach. She automatically clutches the pommel of her sword, but the mermaid remains still, her expression scrunched in a perplexed frown.

Her eyes are alluring up close, like a stormy sea, wild, dangerous, and stunning.

She leans forward and Biana feels like the ocean is bearing down on her under her scrutiny. Her breath smells like fish and blood, and all Biana can think of is the razor-sharp canines that are approaching her neck.

"Not many humans... would bother with such kindness." Biana drags her gaze away from her bared teeth to glance at the mermaid once again. Her brow furrows and her head cocks to the side. "So, why do you do it?"

"Are you not someone who speaks, who thinks, who dreams as well?"

As she ponders her words, the mermaid hums, a sea shanty so familiar to Biana yet jarring from the mermaid's throat. There's no longer a bite behind her words, only a mellow, gentle voice, and curiosity shines through.

"Most people wouldn't consider that grounds enough to free-."

[-free on Sunday afternoon if he asks, and be sure to not bring up your father, her mother intones as though reciting from a long list of rules as she straightens the collar at Biana's neck, stiff and starch and painful. Her brother rides alongside her, poised perfectly like a puppet in carefully framed disinterest. Her long sleeves itch, and she resists the urge to pull the sleeves up. She knows if her scarred arms are seen by anyone in the republic, the sights and glances would only get worse.

The carriage jolts to a quick start, and she glances up as she descends, staring towards the docks ahead. Fitz stands beside her, her mother already lost in the throng of people bartering for kosher cut meat and braided challah at the market, shawl up and face down as she ensured no one would see the wife of a councillor (such a cheap establishment, how crude!). Harsh winds blow around her, the few raindrops making the back of the dress stick to her shirt and she plonks herself loudly on a few crates next to her, watching as Fitz continued to stare at the cafe nearby.

I know you're looking for that artist, she taunted, as she watched Fitz turn a delightful shade of crimson.

Tuning out the long tirade of her brother's explanation for exactly why he was watching the cafe and why that didn't include that artist because just because he flirted with me doesn't mean that he actually like liked me, she stared out morosely at the ships coming in, the "uncouth and unlawful" merchants descending their vessels, loudly bartering and intermingling among themselves.

They're so free and... happy, she can't help but blurt out as she hears Fitz sit down next to her with a rather undignified thump.

He frowns, momentarily pondering why exactly would Biana Vacker of all people feel that they were not happy, ignoring Biana's wistful sighs.

Do you ever want to leave?

The uncertainty surrounding the question blankets them both, and Fitz chews his lip before slowly shaking his head in the negative.

I wouldn't know what to do with myself, he tentatively whispers, before Biana crowds over him, turning onto him with an expression so full and unlike herself - so full of life.

Think about Fitz - you could finally run away with that artist boy and settle down and then I could come to visit you and we could share your favourite rugelach as we talked about the latest gossip topic and then I'd travel the world and we'd no longer be scared because I'd have a plane - no wait, a ship and sometimes you'd come with me and-, she paused taking in a deep breath as she stared back at him - wouldn't it be fun if it was just us?

Fitz's gaze on her is far away, and Biana feels herself shuttering slowly as the silence stretches taut between them. Fitz's words spill out slowly from him, almost as though he was afraid of breaking her carefully crafted reverie.

I'd love that, he quietly states. I'd love that a lot but-

but we both have our duty to father.]

Biana's expression shutters, before smiling back at the mermaid.

"Then again, I am not most people", she quips, and when the mermaid laughs, voice gentle like the waves rocking her boat, she leans in even further, emboldened by her enigmatic smile.

"Look, you were captured by chance by my crew", and at her words, incredulity sweeps across the mermaid's face. Biana pleads with her hands clasped. "Honestly, I'm sorry it happened in the first place!"

Her eyebrows lift, perplexed. "Honesty from a human?"

"Yes." Biana inhales deeply and extends her arm toward the ocean.

"Which is why I selfishly want to ask - when we let you go, may you spare us?"

The mermaid's eyes sharpen momentarily, her expression guarded as she regarded the captain.

"Was this... talk all a game to gain my favour?"

"Of course not!", Biana hastily backtracks, before looking back at the mermaid, gaze softening.

"We- I would have let you go, regardless of the consequences for my crew."

Biana shoves down her sigh at the mermaid's unreadable face, ears buzzing as her crew begins to protest behind her. Sophie's harsh barks keep chaos from erupting - but just barely, and Biana continues to stare up the mermaid beseechingly, mouthing "Please" over and over.

Please let this be enough.

The mermaid eventually responds, though she takes her own time. "Fine." She cocks her head to the side, carefully searching her.

Biana smiles at her, her relief visible in her smile.

"Then the kelpie queen is at your service," she adds, bowing gracefully. "However, my friends refer to me as Biana."

The mermaid's brows blend into her dark hairline, inscrutable against her silver-tipped bangs.

"Do you think we're friends?"

The ache in Biana's heart is agonizing. "I'd want to be."

Biana deliberately ignores the mermaid's astonishment, instead beckoning Sophie to assist her in lowering the mermaid to the waters below. The crew shuffles anxiously behind her, but she ignores them, leaping upon the railing to assist Sophie in guiding the crane as she ranks it. The mermaid jolts in surprise, but quickly spins around, writhing and straining at the net.

Biana steadies the beam and stares down at the mermaid. She's all restless energy and longing looks, and all Biana can think is about how wrong she looks trapped in a net.

"Biana", the mermaid mutters, just loud enough that if she strains, she can hear it. "Certainly not a name I've heard from here-

[-here it is, Biana thinks with relief, as she picks up the windblown shawl, decorated with hamsas from the floor of the alcove. Sure, the man her mother had tried to set her up with didn't show, but she knew she still wouldn't accept that as an excuse for her to dirty it.

I'd probably have enough time to take this to the washerman and back, she muses. It's not like the one person who really misses me is at home anyways, sent after the fabled princess - Sofia - wait, was she even-

It's only then she realizes with a jolt that she's somehow wandered into the heart of the harbour, infamous for its unsavoury trades. Burly shadows suddenly crowd her, and she falters, bumping into a much taller man who leers at her, the familiar smell of stale liquor on his breath.

You're too pretty to be here young one, he whispers, trailing fingers along her covered sleeves. Biana swallows, prepared to shout before there's a sudden ringing, and the man slumps forward in pain, before roaring back and punching a much younger, livelier woman dressed in the merchant - no, pirate's garbs, who looks strangely disconcerted with the fact that she's aggravated a man almost twice her weight.

The fight is over almost soon as it begins, and it's surprisingly the woman who stands triumphant, wiping the blood off her knuckles before extending her hand in dismissal.

Oh, Biana thinks, stupefied after the fight. She's so pretty.

"Take me with you."

The woman smiles, amused by the childish request before she turns back to her, horrified at the fact that she's entirely serious.

Biana's sure that she doesn't look like much, what with her bedraggled locks falling out of the messily tied braid, her dress rumpled and covered with much too much dirt, but she grits her teeth and for the first time since- the incident-, pulls up the long sleeves on an impulse, absorbing the muted shock as the pirate runs gentle fingers over the scars.

You're Eternalia's consort. The councillor's daughter who was maimed, the pirate whispers softly.

There's a mirthless laugh as Biana draws her arms away.

Everyone says it was wild animals, merpeople who attacked me. Perhaps even the most vicious of sea monsters would have been kinder to me than my father that night.

The pirate glances at her, before gently forcing Biana's trembling face up, wiping the soft tears that had begun streaming down them silently with a touch much softer than Biana expected. She glances behind, face momentarily unreadable before smiling, and her expression isn't one of pity - but rather, respect, and Biana finds herself stunned.

"I'm a pirate - well, Jolie, to be more exact. The seas were unforgiving to me at the start, and they may do the same to you - it took me many years to command them. People will whisper behind you, muttering tales of how you threw your life away. They'll lament your name, and the insignia you now represent. Are you willing to accept all of that? Do you still want to leave?"

"Yes."

Despite the slight waver in her voice, there's no hesitation when Biana grins, finally in charge of her destiny, finally free. ]

"What's yours?"

The mermaid startles, tail smacking against the rocks. "What?"

"Your name. What do I call you?"

She frowns, her brow wrinkled with.. shyness? "You won't be able to say my name since humans don't understand my language." Her gaze returns to the ocean, causing her entire body to tremble in apprehension as she gazes intently outwards, "What difference does it make anyway?"

Biana frowns at her as she draws her sword, setting it against the rope - yet she stills in the motion, curiosity overcoming her.

"Well if we meet again, what will I call you?"

She chuckles, her head bowed in a sorrowful manner, before returning her gaze to her

"Kelpie Queen, I pray that'll never happen. The enormous pods claim their territory in the regions where humans travel." Her lips form a half-snarl, a grimace at nothing, "They don't have enough fish to eat, so they eat humans," she says, her face darkening, "And they have no fear of the Ocean's vengeance. So please, don't try to find me - in fact, consider this free advice - stay off these currents. Nothing good comes from tangling with such folk - it will only lead to your early grave."

"But what if I managed to overcome all of that and still make it back to you? How else am I supposed to call out for you at the end of it all?"

Biana opens her mouth to continue, but whatever she's about to say dies on the tip of her tongue, turning into a sharp inhale as the mermaid clasps Biana's hands, holding her gaze as she presses a careful kiss to her knuckles.

"Linh", she softly says, grinning at Biana and she's convinced she's ascended straight into Shamayim itself.

Before Biana can scrape together the brain cells to respond, Linh curls forward, growling almost playfully at the rope. "Now cut me loose!"

Once again, she draws back her sword but pauses to look at the mermaid - no, Linh again.

"Biana!"

Her lips twitch and her blade gleams as it swings. With a loud snap of rope and a flash of her scales, the mermaid finally disappears into the ocean's deep blue depths, and a long silence surrounds Biana as she gazes into the waters.

"Ship spotted!"

All at once, a cacophony erupts, and the crew scrambles to their positions, preparing for whatever measure their captain will tell them to conduct. Unlike the rest, she stands, uncharacteristically silent alongside Sophie as the barrel-man narrates the familiar royal insignia and the absence of the young prince.

Looks like he finally got away from father and his home, it seems. Hopefully with that artist as well-

"Biana, are you listening? The ships almost here - if we want to escape, we need to do it now!"

Her smile grows sharp, before facing Sophie with a grin, watching her petulantly sigh, already expecting the outcome.

"But where would the fun be in that?"

Sophie simply nods and shouts, "To your stations!"

The ship erupts into a commotion of noise and clamour, heavy cannons scraping against the wooden decks and rifles cocking under Sophie's watchful eye before she turns back to her captain, face already mournful.

"The mermaid's going to doom us now - it's not even been an hour and we're already foregoing her advice."

Biana can't contain her laughter as it erupts from her mouth and she retorts, amusement flaring as Sophie sighs. "Worse luck to say that."

There's a dazzling glitter in the tiny area of the ocean she can see beneath Sophie's ear that captures her attention, momentarily distracting her as a true smile begins to spread across her face.

"Actually, my friend, I believe we're lucky."

Sophie's gaze is drawn to Biana's father's approaching ship, but Biana continues to gaze past her, absentmindedly rubbing her knuckles as though chasing that phantom sensation, before catching that similar shimmer of silver further ahead - making her smile widen even further.

"Oh really?"

She winks and brightens at Sophie's sceptical expression.

The ocean is a fickle mistress, one who takes and takes and takes and is all jagged edges and warmth. But in the end, the ocean can also be someone kind, someone delicate, someone worth fighting for and someone worth meeting at the end of it all, with little but sheer bravado and simple kisses to lament their distance.

"Today I think, the seas are on our side."

#girl help i have forgotten how to tag #also ANY JEWISH FREINDS NOTICE INNACURACIES PLEASE POINT OUT THANK YOU SM I AM GOYIM #aru writes #biana vacker #linhiana #kotlc #linh song #keeper of the lost cities #linh kotlc #biana kotlc #criminally underrated ship </3 #oh and there's like. keefitz if you have a magnifying glass lmao #also just to clarify jolie is the pirate and also biana's gay awakening. i think we should talk more about that #because jolie is underratedly... hot #is that pun too soon? too soon #also i'm p sure i had a taglist lemme see if i can find it if not. enjoy bon appetit tatata #also the title is from that one hebrew poem in exodus so <3 and minor jewish biana references.. my beloved #also rugelach my beloved god that desert is amazing and it prompted me to write them as jewish #funny fact shai i was using your ref sheet to write your present so.

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

Note

"I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met." With western Tech I am begging

Ah! The return of Dr. Victor Trech "Tech" the Third! I have been watching too many Jane Austen movies again because oh no I am in a MOOD ANON, this was delivered with perfect timing! All credit goes to @weirdcharacter for the lovely creation of this AU, please go follow her (and her writing is great, @hellothere-generalangsty )

Rating: F for fluff. Fluffy fluff.

Jekk is “Jack” and Sheeyah is “Shay”! Yall know the drill. Also I'm not saying the reader looks like Sadie Adler (RDR) but her aesthetic is PERFECT for the reader and I just sjdhsksjsks, just the clothes and the hat and the attitude, I adore it warning this is very dramatic, send help, i need help, my expectation for men is unrealistic

Your world turned sideways, then upside down, sideways again, and then right side up. You laughed, tumbling again, coming to a halt at the base of the hill. The two children slid down by you, voices chorusing in laugher. Shay collapsed on your back as Jack skidded by you, giggling, grinning and displaying a stunning lack of front teeth. “You’re the funnest person in town.”

“Aw.” You grinned, reaching over and tugging on Jack’s straw hat. “You kids are pretty fun, too.”

A set of little fingers reached up, tugging the tangles of grass through your hair. “Mama and papa like you, too.”

“And I like them.” You sat up, yanking off your hat and letting your hair fall so Shay could braid it. She rose, taking your tendrils of hair and weaving them together. “I like yall more, though.” You winked at Jack, who giggled as you motioned him to shush. “Don’t tell them, though.”

Shay cackled behind you, tugging on your hair and tying it off. “We won’t!” She chirped.

“Your secret is safe with us!” The boy cawed, running around his sister. “Hey! Shay! I’ll race you back up the hill!” He turned and sprinted up.

“Hey!” Shay fussed at her little apron, hopping up, and then ran up after him. “Not fair! You had a head start!”

A laugh, deep and warm, escaped your chest as you stood. You followed the kids up the hill, walking slower as they neared the top. You stopped and glanced back at the landscape, the sea of gold rolling in waves from upcoming storm winds. You would think the fields of wheat were oceans of riches. Cut was rich in every way, of course- with a family as lovely as his and lands as broad and blessed, but the man was happier with grains than physical riches.

Thunder rolled above your head, shouting through the sky. You glanced up, then looked at the kids, who has just made it into their house. "Hey!" You yelled. "I'm going to run home."

The kids nodded, shouting their goodbyes and waving as they retreated inside to the warmth of their abode.

___

You barely managed to make it into the pergola in the center of town when the bottom really fell out of the storm above. The wood creaked under your feet as you moved, watching the rain, antsy for the clouds to lift.

Drumming your fingers on the old railing of the pergola, you made a couple of laps, taking in the sights of this town in the rain, the storm. You leaned on your elbows and looked over everything, thinking for a moment. Everyone was tucked away safe and sound in their homes, listening to the rain and wind and curling up with loved ones.

Even if you were the only one in your home, you wouldn't mind curling up alone, drinking some tea, listening to the pitter of rain on your windows-

Wait.

You leaned on the wood, squinting at the figure fast approaching you. Despite actively getting drenched by the unsympathetic rain, he was grinning.

"Victor," You whispered, turning and running to the steps of the pergola. You made it halfway down the stairs, the rain and wood scent assaulting you, when his hand grasped your arm and tugged you back under the cover of the humble structure. You tugged your hair out of your face, staring up at him, rubbing the water out of your face. "Victor!" You practically yelled above the rain. "What are you doing out here?"

The Doctor grinned, victoriously holding up an umbrella that had been stationed under his arm. "I had to bring this to you!" He smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck. "Uh... It hasn't done any good yet."

"Oh, Victor." You laughed and looked him over, shaking your head at the mud splashed on his trousers. "You're soaked!"

"I didn't want you to be alone." He said, watching you. "Waiting this out by yourself would be rough." His eyes, behind the rain-speckled specs, were bright as he looked you over, wet hair and all. "Stars," He said, hoarse. "You're beautiful."

A laugh tugged at your throat as you plunked down on the floor of the modest stand, and you patted the wood next to you. "You're very sweet, doc."

"I'm being serious," Victor plunked down next to you, taking off his specs and rubbing his dampened shirt on the lenses in an attempt to dry them. "I'm trying to be more bold. Honest, even."

You laughed again, shaking your head, the braid Shay made swaying on your shoulders. "Well, you're sweet, either way. And you're kind of pretty yourself."

He chuckled in his city-slicker way, a way that charmed you. "I like your braid." Victor paused, reaching up to examine it. "May I?" Upon receiving your nod of approval, he took the length of hair in his hand. Your whole scalp tingled at the sensation of his hands, gently skimming over the braid. "It's lovely. Shay?"

"Yes," You hummed. "Shay likes playing with hair, you know."

He chuckled, hands falling to your shoulders momentarily before dropping, and Victor scooting besides you, crossing his legs. “She does.” He added, eyes drawing to the rain.

You snuck a sideways glance at him. He really was pretty. Soft lips rounded a set jaw, intelligent dark eyes hiding behind glasses, skin tanned and warm with brown-red hair laying in wet curls on his head. You were never one for art, portraits, but heavens, if you could pick a picture to have engraved in your mind’s eye forever it would be this one, of him, wet and soaked from the rain and eyes soft. Your gaze darted away, and your stomach stirred- butterflies, your mama used to call them.

You felt a hand press softly over yours, fingers spreading hesitantly on your knuckles. You glanced up, blinking, and you smiled quietly. Victor’s own eyes moved up to yours and his cheeks pinkened, and he started to pull his hand back. “I’m sorry, I just-”

Your thumb flicked over his hand, trapping it over yours again. “It’s fine.” You whispered, barely audible against the rain. After a moment of silence, you squeezed his hand. "How did Victor Trech become 'Tech'?"

Victor chuckled, fingers flexing over yours. "Ah. Well, one of the letters I sent- I suppose the 'r' in Trech blended in with cursive, and... Well, I never corrected it."

You broke out in a giggle, looking over at him, feeling your lips almost split in laughter. "Really?"

He nodded, laughter filling the pergola. His eyes danced in the rain as he looked at you, intelligent gaze not diminished by the softness that lingered in his brown eyes- warm and ever present.

You sucked in a breath as he smoothed his hand up to your cheek, pushing a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “If I could just,” He whispered, watching it tuck back neatly. His words never finished- but they held a strong, finalized want in how he said them, prayed them.

His fingers cusped your jaw, and he swallowed harshly, the unsaid plea moving down his throat. “Forgive me.” His hand moved away from you, and he turned his head away, words hoarse. “You seem to make me forget the words that I had in my mind.” Victor grimaced momentarily, at the crack of thunder above them. “And you make me talk in flowery circles.”

“Why do I do that?” You leaned forward, cocking your head. The hair danced from behind your ear to brush a damp line along your cheek, but you ignored it- you were enraptured fully in him, his presence.

“Because you-” Victor’s words caught again, and his cheeks reddened as he glanced down at the old wooden ground of the pergola. “You make me want to say every good and noble thing that you bring to my mind, and you deserve no less than the best praises my lips can sing of you.”

Your thoughts fell flatter than an armful of barley on a windless day. His eyes were so sincere, warm, lips pressed together. “I said I was trying to be honest because I want to be open and honest with you, especially you, if not only you- and should you say no, my heart will still be yours, and I’ll never speak of my honesty with you again.”

A chuckle pressed firmly to your throat, and you watched him sit up more, nodding softly. “Go on,” You encouraged. “Speak to me.”

The words spilled out of his lips, like a dam of emotions, held back by fear. “You make me feel needed here- well, the patients make me needed, but you make me feel wanted. Oh, there is no better feeling than being wanted, my saving grace.” Victor’s hand found its way back to your yours, clasping it, words dancing with the now-steady drumming of the rain. “I need these hands to ground me, hold me, only if you’ll have me.” He pulled your knuckles to his lips, kissing each one so tenderly. Like the tall grass you ran your hands over in the summer, his kisses were soft and warm and warmed you, head to toe.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time, haven’t you?” Your brows raised. You were no longer chilled to the bone- you had thawed.

“Since the first day I met you.” Victor whispered against your hand.

You grinned, leaning in a little bit, catching his eyes in yours. “How about you stop kissing my hand and kiss somewhere else, Victor?”

The doctor stopped talking, mouth slamming shut and eyes flickering to your lips. He cleared his throat softly, and exhaled a shaky chuckle. "I... I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You're not." A smile pressed to your lips again and you moved your head, catching his eyes.

It took a moment. He nodded, leaning in halfway, and closing his eyes. His hands closed around yours, lips expectant.

You reached up and stroked a hand in his tangle of curls before closing the space. He flinched once your lips brushed his, but leaned back in, solidifying it. Everything fell into place, suddenly. The tugging at your heart every time you saw him, loving the way his name, him, tasted in your mouth, and those flashes of the tenderness you got- his doctorly touch examining your wounds, the fussing and concerns not always done out of his medical oath- how much of it had been done out of love?

Victor broke back, for a moment, enough for him to whisper your name, leaning in and kissing you, deeper, sweeter, humming against you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and sighed, willing the rain to fall for as long as it wanted to- you had all you would need right here.

#tbb western au #tech x reader #tech x you #bad batch tech x you #bad batch tech x reader #tech #minty writes #clone force 99 reader insert #bad batch reader insert

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firehouseonechicago · 3 years

Text

A Very Merry Christmas || Brian Zvonecek

Warnings: Pure fluff and Chicago Fire shenanigans. It’s Otis, what do you expect?

Summary: It was about time that you met the occupants of Firehouse 51, especially since Otis has been nagging you to do it for several months now. So, what better time to meet his colleagues than at Christmas?

Author’s Note: I love Otis, I miss him so much. I’m not seeing a lot of Otis content on here, so have a beautiful Christmas one-shot! Gif by @leo-suter

For the several months the two of you had been together, Brian had been trying to convince you to stop by the Firehouse so he could introduce you to the team. And for some reason, you always said no. At first you told him it was nerves, you were always nervous about meeting new people. But then your nerves grew to fear, fear that his colleagues wouldn’t like you.

But since it was Christmas, and Christmas was the time of giving and coming together, you decided that it was time that you get over your pathetic fears. You had spent the entire morning cooking various treats and decorating Christmas themed cookies, as well as making a beautiful chocolate cake which you hoped would win over the occupants of the 51. After making sure that everything was completely and utterly perfect, and after carefully placing everything in tuppaware containers, you drove to the Firehouse all the while trembling slightly.

You hoped that Brian wasn’t out on a call, otherwise if you showed up and no one was there, it would be kind of awkard waiting around for him to return. Parking in an available space just a little further down the street, you carefully manouvered your way out of your car, and attempted to carry the three large tuppaware containers towards the open doors of the Firehouse. You struggled to see over the top of them, combined with balancing these containers filled with an entire morning’s-worth of hard work, it made it incredibly difficult not to almost drop them.

As the top container began to slide off, almost crashing to the driveway below, a pair of hands suddenly came to your rescue, taking the top two containers from your grasp. “Woah there, let me give you a hand!” A kind voice exclaimed, smiling down at you with bright blue eyes. You laughed breathlessly, smiling up at the man before you gratefully “Thank you so much, I’ll be honest I almost lost them a few times” You joked, fixing the container that carried the chocolate cake in your arms. The man laughed with you, looking you over with a slight hint of confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ve seen you before...” He spoke lowly, as your mouth fell agape in shock. They didn’t know who you were.

“Oh right! I’m uh, I’m here to see Brian? You guys call him Otis but he’s-” “Oh! You’re Y/n right? Otis’ girlfriend, he never stops talking about you...” The man explained, his smile growing “I’m Kelly Severide, head of Squad 3″. You nodded a small greeting “It’s nice to meet you Kelly, I would shake your hand but...” You paused, gesturing to the container in your grasp. He laughed, motioning with his head toward the firehouse “Come on in, Otis just went out on a call, but he should be back soon. In the meantime, why don’t we talk? I’d like to get to know you better” Kelly spoke kindly, looking at you over his shoulder as the two of you headed inside.

For the past hour, you sat in the common room getting to know the members of Squad 3. Of course, the main topic of conversation was your relationship with Brian. The typical questions like where did you meet, and how long have the two of you been together were the easy ones to answer. You grew somewhat nervous when they began to ask questions about your life, like what you did for a living, or where you had grown up. You didn’t like to talk about yourself much, there wasn’t really much to tell.

So when Truck 81 returned to the Firehouse, you were slightly relieved. Your eyes met Kelly’s, and you grinned “Okay, now you guys can start eating. Just don’t eat everything” you teased, as you removed the lids from the containers. Like hungry animals, Squad 3 pounced, digging through the cookies and other treats, some even beelining for the chocolate cake. You stepped back and chuckled softly, as the soft echo of voices outside grew closer and closer. Your gaze moved to the two large glass doors, your chest tightening with happiness as Brian threw open the doors, turning to look at the man beside him.

“I’m telling you Cruz, that girl was into you. Why didn’t you get her number?” He exclaimed, lightly hitting his friend’s shoulder. Cruz shrugged “She wasn’t into me, man. I’m telling you she was just being nice”. Brian scoffed, rolling his eyes before they widened upon seeing your form, standing somewhat awkwardly as you hugged your arms to your sides with a sheepish smile. The grin on his features widened “Oh my god, what are you doing here!?” He exclaimed, running towards you and enveloping you in his arms, picking you up and spinning you around as his eyes sparkled with happiness. You squeaked in surprise, laughing loudly as he returned you back to earth before you pulled away from him. “Well, since it is Christmas, I thought I would come down to the Firehouse and surprise you. I thought it was about time, and I brought gifts-”

“Gifts? What kind of gifts?!” A voice shouted from the doorway. Both you and Brian turned to meet the expectant stare of a man with a moustache and glasses. “Mouch, come on-” Brian began, but you stopped him by placing a gentle hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder “It’s okay, I brought my famous shortbread cookies, a few other treats and a delicious chocolate cake, your favourite” You informed Mouch, whispering the last part to Brian with a cheeky grin. You giggled softly as Mouch’s mouth fell agape, his eyes moving between both you and Brian in bewilderment. “Is this your girlfriend?” He questioned, gesturing towards you with a pointed gesture. Brian nodded “Yes, this is Y/n. We’ve been together for about six months”.

In that small moment of silence, Mouch rushed forward and clapped your boyfriend on the back “You better keep her” He spoke in a hushed whisper, before dashing towards the Christmas themed treats atop the table. Both you and Brian descended into laughter, as a second man joined Mouch. “Hey, save some cake for the rest of us Mouch!” “You should have gotten here first Herrmann!”. The common room descended into a frenzy, as everyone scrambled to grab one of your delicious delights. Whilst everyone was preoccupied, Brian introduced you to Matthew Casey, Cheif Boden, Shay and Dawson, as well as many others within the Firehouse. He gave you a grand tour of the place, before the two of you eventually ended up in the locker room.

He turned around to face you with a gentle and loving smile “I can’t believe you came all the way down here for me” He whispered softly, once again wrapping you in a warm embrace while placing a gentle kiss to your temple. You hummed in response, “Merry Christmas, Otis” You teased, causing your boyfriend to grumble a response. You laughed, standing on your toes to press a loving kiss to his lips. Brian’s arms around you tightened as he reciprocated the kiss, before pulling away with a dreamy smile “I think it’s safe to say that they all love you” He whispered, to which you grinned happily “I don’t know what I was so worried about”.

Brian chuckled deeply, pulling you closer so that your head fell against his chest. “I think this is going to be a very merry christmas, don’t you?” He asked, pressing a light kiss to your hair. You smiled “I think so too”. In that peaceful moment of silence, Brian groaned loudly and somewhat disappointingly. You pulled away from you boyfriend and looked up at him in confusion. “What? What’s wrong?” “I just realised that all of your cookies will be gone by now, and I won’t get any” He pouted, his pursed lips causing you to chuckle at his adorableness. You smiled teasingly, taking his hands in yours as you grinned excitedly “Then aren’t you lucky that I made extras, and they are all yours”. Brian’s eyes widened significantly, his lips parting in awe. “God I love you so much” he breathed, cupping your face with his hands and gently running the pads of his thumbs over your cheeks. You flushed a bright red “And, I’ve planned a special movie marathon for you when you get home tonight”.

“Is it Star Wars?”

Your smile told him everything he needed to know, before he surged forward and caputred your lips with his own in a passionate kiss. Oh yes, this would be a very merry christmas indeed.

#brian zvonecek x reader #brian zvonecek #brian svonecek imagine #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #otis x reader #otis #otis imagine #yuri sardarov

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tiredassmage · 2 years

Note

7, 9, 11

Since there's multiple ships and multiple questions, let's go by pairing! ^.^

7 - Are they more likely to built a pillow fort with aesthetically pleasing string lights or sit in a bed of a truck looking up at the stars?

Astor is definitely likely to be the one asking them to stare up at the stars, and they've done their fair share of plain star gazing, but it'd also be very, very difficult for him to resist the aesthetic of string lights. This pillow fort will be standing for a while and he's going to read so many books in it. It being indoors also means way easier for cuddles. And cuddles are always a win for both of them.

9 - Who is ready to throw down and who is ready to make a flower crown?

To no one's surprise, Astor will make the flower crowns. Eden is going to start fights. Not that she'd be opposed to flower crowns, either, but... hurt his feelings and she'll find you.

11 - Who laughs so hard that they make no sound and whose laugh can you hear from a mile away?

Jury might still need to be out on this one, but if I had to place bets, Astor's generally a quieter one, so that would mean Eden is the one you can hear from a distance.

7 - Are they more likely to built a pillow fort with aesthetically pleasing string lights or sit in a bed of a truck looking up at the stars?

Shay in a pillow fort might happen, but it's also more likely that he'd destroy said fort in a cutthroat game of pillow fighting, so it's probably best not to involve flammable string lights. Besides, there's appeal to finding a middle of nowhere spot where it can just be them and the night sky. Dravanian roadtrip throwbacks, anyone?

9 - Who is ready to throw down and who is ready to make a flower crown?

You know this. Shay is always ready to fight. Airi is making the flower crowns. She is trying to make Shay a 'get along with others' bracelet. He's saying 'it's just a spar' and 'she doesn't need to worry about it.'

11 - Who laughs so hard that they make no sound and whose laugh can you hear from a mile away?

Okay, so... Shay so rarely laughs, especially in this whole body and soul kind of way that I'm leaning towards him being the one you'd hear from a mile. Citation? The fight against Susano, he was having the time of his life. Who was laughing louder, him or the kami? Yes.

#ffxiv ocs #answered #ships #ch: astor caulfield #ch: eden azalea #astoren #ch: shay delacroix #ch: airi nakamura #shairi

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Christmas Punch & Kisses

A Haytham Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2,320 Warnings: Explicit Language, Minor Mentions Of Violence

Author’s Note: DAY 3 OF CHRISTMAS FICS. HERE. WE. GO. ENJOY! -Thorne

With the yearly Christmas party in full swing, half of the Templars were drunk off their rockers and the other half were stuffing their faces with food—well on their way to becoming drunker than skunks. (Y/N) sat between Haytham and Shay, an amused expression on her face as she listened to Shay’s rather embellished tale of the sea battle between the Morrigan and the Storm Fortress.

The Irishman curled an arm around her neck, ignoring how she grunted when his tug caused her to spill the rum. “—And the lass jumped up, grabbed the wheel and yelled for the crew to drop the port side anchor.” The group stared in at her like she had three heads, but it didn’t stop Shay. “We hit hard at port, the Morrigan spun and showed starboard and she just screamed, ‘Fire!’” He beamed with pride. “And we blew half the Storm Fortress to kingdom come.”

(Y/N) shrugged off his arm and set her drink down on the table. “Well, someone had to take charge and sink the ship.” The Templars around her let out ‘ooo’s’ and she grinned. “You were too busy passing out.”

Shay pressed a hand to his chest. “My own best friend wounding my pride like this. How could she?”

She snorted and elbowed him in the side. “Hey, I saved our asses and sunk one of the fiercest ships on the seven seas.” (Y/N) curled an arm around his neck and gave him a noogie. “I think I’m allowed to wound some Captain’s pride.” The group laughed at the two, and Haytham, who’d been watching them with mild amusement set his wine glass down.

“I wasn’t aware you could sail, (Y/N). How’d a young woman become skilled enough to take down a Man O’War?” he inquired, catching her eye.

She nodded. “Shay’s dad used to dress me up as a boy in order to take me on the ship with them as a kid. I caught on quick.” Sharing a look with Shay, she remarked, “He’s also been lenient enough with the wheel to let me sail around the North Atlantic a few times.”

“Lenient?” Shay scoffed. “You kicked me in the gonads and took the wheel from me.” (Y/N) tipped her head back and cackled.

When she calmed, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I asked politely, and you declined. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not kick me in the crotch! That’s what!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Little bitch.”

“Harlot!” he retorted and the two glowered at each other, much to the delight of the group.

Haytham chuckled. “Given their bravery and skill, I think one of them should get the Christmas bonus this year.” That caught their attention and they stared at him.

“The Christmas what?” she repeated.

Shay nodded excitedly. “Aye, what’s that?”

The Grandmaster regarded the two of them, dark brows furrowed as he asked, “Gist didn’t mention it to either of you?”

With that they looked at the frontiersman who grinned sheepishly. “I believe it slipped my mind.”

Their glower made him sink his neck into his shoulders and Haytham huffed. “Then I shall explain.” He said. “The Christmas bonus is a minor increase in pay that one special member gets at the end of the year for their work in the Order.”

“How much is ‘minor’?” she questioned.

“Fifteen hundred pounds.”

Their jaws dropped and (Y/N) shoved her hand against the side of Shay’s face, blurting out, “I sunk the Storm Fortress!”

He spluttered, yanking her hand down. “I took over New York!”

She spun on him and glared. “I helped!”

“Oh please! You didn’t do a damn thing!”

“Excuse you! I was the one who conquered the headquarters in Waterfront and East Village while you were nursing a head cold!”

The templars snorted and Shay flushed. “I was running a high fever! It was strategic to retreat and get better!”

“How the hell did your ass even manage to make it this far in life to make strategic retreats?!”

“Probably the way your ass managed to make it this far by brown-nosing!”

(Y/N) recoiled, dramatically gasping. “How. Dare. You.” She pointed at him. “Take that back.”

Shay glared and grabbed her rum. He chugged the entire thing and slammed the tankard down. “Over. My. Dead. Body.”

“That can be arranged.” She hissed.

But before she could even jump his way, they heard, “Enough.” It was humored, but it was firm, and they reacted like unruly children, sulking in their seats. Their gazes snapped to Haytham. “You two argue like siblings.”

They shared a look, then smiles grew on their faces, and she said, “Hell, we’ve been conjoined at the hip since we were kids.”

Shay nodded. “Couldn’t imagine life without you, lass.”

The group awwed and Haytham said, “Since it’s clear the two of you are willing to go to war over the bonus,” he paused, taking in their grins. “How about one of you gets the bonus and the other can take a request.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “A request? Like a request to move, or?”

Haytham shrugged. “A request for anything you’d like. Whatever’s been on your mind or in your wildest dreams.” She opened her mouth and he added, “Within reason, of course. No asking for the Royal Throne.”

The Irishman snorted. “Looks like your plans are gone, (Y/N).”

She let out a ‘pfft’ and nodded. “Shay can have the bonus. I’ll take the request.”

“But what if I have a req—”

He started to complain, but she turned and grabbed the front of his shirt, bunching it in her fist. (Y/N) pulled them nose to nose and hissed, “Take the goddamn pay raise or I swear to God I’ll flay you alive.”

His coffee eyes went wide, and he nodded rapidly, looking to Haytham. “(Y/N) can have the request. I’ll take the pay raise, sir.”

Haytham snorted and turned his attention to her as she was releasing her friend. “So, (Y/N), what request are you so adamantly wanting?”

She narrowed her gaze and queried, “I can ask for anything so long as it’s within reason?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. If I can grant it, I will.”

Suspicions entered her tone. “You’re not lying to me? You won’t back out if I ask for something peculiar? I won’t get punished if I ask for perhaps,” her eyes drifted to Charles. “to knee him in the groin?”

Sighing heavily, he nodded. “On my honor, I won’t back out nor punish you.” Charles squealed in shock.

(Y/N) slapped the table. “Done.” She stood and pointed at Haytham. “I want to punch you in the face.”

The entire table went silent, evidently not expecting that, save for Shay who buried his face in his hands, laughing hysterically. “Dear god, (Y/N).” he guffawed.

She ignored him and stared straight at the Grandmaster.

He blinked at her, repeating, “You…want to punch…me?”

She nodded. “You’re damn right I want to punch you. Right now. One good time. In the jaw. As hard as I possibly can.”

With his face pinching in confusion, Haytham’s mouth opened and closed until all he could ask was, “Why?”

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “Because I have suffered three years of the antagonism and arrogance and,” she took a deep breath, “nothing would make me happier than taking out all of my pent up, infernal, ungodly rage in the form of punching you.”

She nodded at him. “So get up, because it’s happening right now.”

“But—”

Pointing at him, she said, “Nuh-uh. You said on your honor you won’t back out.” Cracking her knuckles, she quipped, “Grow a backbone and take my request like a man, Grandmaster.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and (Y/N) could see fury swimming in them, but she simply grinned and stared back. Finally, Haytham let out a sigh and removed his tricorn, placing it on the table.

“Let’s get this over with then.”

An unnatural smile spread across her face and she shifted until they stood a couple feet apart.

Haytham gazed at her. “I can’t believe this is the request you wanted.”

(Y/N) shrugged, testing out the angle of her swing. “I’ve spent the last three years listening to your Holier-Than-Thou-I-Have-My-Head-Shoved-Up-My-Ass-Because-I-Believe-I’m-Superior-To-Everyone-Attitude.” She motioned to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you are superior in skill, but you’re annoying as hell about it and I have dreamed about this moment like Shay dreams about getting laid.”

“HEY!” Shay shouted, but she disregarded him.

“And now, my dream gets to come true and I’m not gonna get punished for it?” She flashed a pearly white smile. “What better request could I ask for?”

Haytham didn’t respond, but the set of his jaw made her giggle. “Good on you for locking your jaw.” She clenched her fist. “‘Cause this is gonna hurt.”

(Y/N) cocked her arm back and swung as hard as she could possibly manage and when she connected with Haytham’s jaw, she knew it was going to leave a mark. The blow sent Haytham staggering backwards and he dropped to a knee, reaching up to grab his face.

His head tilted upwards and though she kept it hidden, mild surprise bled through her when she saw the split in his lip.

She threw her hands in the air in victory. “YES! YES! YES!” (Y/N) pointed at Shay. “KISS MY ASS, YOU IRISH BASTARD!”

Shay recoiled. “Why are you badgering me?!”

(Y/N) grabbed his beer tankard and downed it before slamming it on the table. “Alright! I’m out of here!”

“Where are you going?!” Shay yelled.

She waved a hand. “I doubt I’m overly welcome right now so I’m going to find some cheap beer to drink and find some Christmas carolers to egg!” (Y/N) turned and made finger guns at them before exiting into the hallway.

***

She lay on her back at the edge of the docks, eyes directed to the stars above. They twinkled like millions of little candles and it made her smile, thinking about the stories Shay’s dad used to tell the two of them when they were kids. Her fingers curled around the bottle of rum, but she forwent drinking from it anymore, simply letting herself enjoy the mild haze clouding her mind.

The sound of boots against the dock caught her attention and she tipped her head back, catching sight of Haytham coming her way. She grinned. “Come to punish me in secret?”

He scoffed and took a seat beside her. “That really hurt.”

Even by the moonlight she could see the dark crimson bruise spreading across his lower jaw and chin. The worst of it was at the left corner of his lip where she’d split it. He’d successfully stopped the bleeding but if it didn’t scar, it’d certainly take a while to heal.

“Good,” she said. “I meant for it to.”

His steel eyes dropped down to her and she grunted as she heaved herself up and maneuvered until her head was resting on his thigh.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to use me as a pillow, (Y/N).”

She cocked an eyebrow, countering, “Well if having a woman on your lap is so perturbing to you, feel free to move me.”

Haytham huffed, but conceded, choosing instead to rest his arm across her chest, his fingers twirling the ring on the necklace she wore.

“This is a unique design,” he commented. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”

(Y/N) tipped her chin down to look at it, her lips brushing the tips of his fingers. “It’s called a Witch’s Heart.” She stared at the rubies set in the gold, ten around a bigger one in the middle, positioned slightly pointing to the right. “Belonged to my great-great aunt.”

“Was she a witch?” Haytham inquired.

“That’s not what the ring symbolizes, but to answer anyway, she might’ve been, might’ve not been. I’ll never know though.” (Y/N) murmured.

“Salem witch trials?” he guessed.

“She was a widow who owned a great deal of land.” Her eyes hardened. “There wasn’t anyone to defend on her behalf and they hung her in a make-believe trial.”

“Father or mother’s side?”

“Father’s.”

He was quiet a moment, then asked, “May I ask you a question, (Y/N)?”

“Other than that one?” she quipped, but his narrowed gaze had her rolling her eyes. “Knock yourself out.”

“Do you hate me?”

Haytham’s question was quiet, as if he were unsure of himself and she met his eyes.

“Why would you think—oh, that, right.” She directed her gaze sideways, looking to where the sea met the sky. “Nah, you just irritate the piss out of me sometimes. If I really hated you, I wouldn’t ever come into contact with you and let Shay do it for me.” (Y/N) hummed. “Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity.”

“Fuck off.”

“Excuse me?”

She winced, giggling as she said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” (Y/N) cleared her throat. “What I meant was, ‘you’re lying’.”

“Not many have ever accused me of lying.”

“I guess that means I’m the rarity.”

Haytham smiled. “You are.”

(Y/N) peered at his face. “So, what’s the real reason you’re asking? Are you afraid of being subject to my hate?”

His eyes searched hers and he admitted, “I am.” Her eyes widened. “You are one of the few I wouldn’t want to be hated by.”

She didn’t say anything for a few moments, then she murmured, “Can I ask for another request?”

“You’re not punching me again.” He said firmly.

“Not what I want, Haytham.”

He sighed. “If you must.”

(Y/N) reached up and gently prodded his lower lip, smiling when he hissed slightly. “I request a Christmas kiss…think you’re up for it?”

Haytham’s free hand grabbed hers and he pressed a kiss to her fingertips before bending down. “I think I can work something out.”

#haytham kenway x reader #haytham kenway x reader imagine #haytham kenway x reader imagines #haytham kenway imagine #haytham kenway imagines #haytham kenway #ac rogue #ac rogue imagine #ac rogue imagines #assassins creed rogue #assassins creed rogue imagine #assassins creed rogue imagines #ac imagines #ac imagine #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #shay cormac #christopher gist

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theharellan · 3 years

Text

Marking Time

Part one of a series of headcanons discussing holidays and celebrations in Elvhenan, both in the empire itself and the rebellion that later challenged its power. I’ll be laying out my influences more clearly in the next part, but for now I’ll just say that my major influences in writing this are Jewish and Celtic. I’m doing this with feedback and may make adjustments as I go forward. I’m also happy to share headcanons and I’m also just as happy to make room for one another’s headcanons should they conflict in roleplay.

As a final note: conlangs are not my specialty, I am just doing my best. Oh, and please don’t reblog this without asking me first!

Elvhenan

Cole: Look at all the stars. Their light is very far away. Some of them are gone.

Solas: Vast but still. Does it bother you, how different it looks than the sky in the Fade?

Cole: At first, I didn't remember. Now I just want to forget.

Before the Veil time was, shall we say, a nebulous concept. We know it existed in some sense from codices such as the Hundred Year Duel and Birds of Fancy, which both refer to “years,” indicating that the idea exists, but is treated much differently from how we might treat a year. There aren’t birthdays, traditional New Years, and everything else we associate with a calendar year. From what we know of Thedas, it takes the same amount of time for the plant its on to rotate around the sun as Earth, and I think Elvhenan were cognizant of that fact but didn’t consider it particularly remarkable. If they had anything resembling months, I think there would only be four— spring, summer, fall, and winter, beginning on the equinox and ending on the solstice, or vice versa.

Rather than measure time based on the rotation of the planet, or even the rotation of the moons around the planet, Elvhenan measured time on other celestial bodies. The elves and spirits of Elvhenan are consistently associated with the air and sky, in contrast to the dwarves, they also through the Fade seem to perceive the heavens differently than we do. As I highlighted above, Cole is aware of the fact that many of the stars they see are dead, and I think this would also mean that Elvhenan possessed knowledge of things such as the expansion of the universe, the the death of stars, the passage of comets, the rotation of whatever system their planet lies in around the universe’s center, et cetera. It was through these that they marked the passage of time and designated particular holidays. For example, a centenary comet which passes beneath the boughs of the constellation now known as Fervenial might kick off a holiday honouring the goddess Andruil.

In Elvhenan sacred space was also considered more important than sacred time. Pilgrimages were common and often important parts of the lives of the faithful, but there was never a set time of year in which to take them. It was always the where instead of the when, and I mean “where” in two senses of the word. Where could mean the sacred lands of Mythal, or the wooded paths in deep, dark woods, with only the distant stone gaze of Fen’ara to mark the wilderness, but “where” could just as easily be a state of being (or sometimes both). Attaining a particular state of mind through meditation was an important step in reaching the Deepest Fade, a mark of spiritual achievement that took years of work and practise. Being in the right emotional state of mind to embark on a pilgrimage was important, and failing to do so would risk the wrath of the god in question.

Elvhen Revolution

Vir sulahn'nehn Vir dirthera Vir samahl la numin Vir 'lath sa'vunin'

Come the rebellion, time is measured differently. It begins first and foremost as a survival tactic and a war tactic, I’ve mentioned in prior headcanons that the rebellion employs guerilla tactics in order to get the edge on Elvhenan’s forces, which vastly outnumber theirs. One way they subvert the manner in which war is waged is making battles much shorter than is expected. We see in the Duel of a Hundred Years that some battles could last a century and the most noteworthy thing about them was not their longevity, but the reason for which they were fighting (preventing a war between the gods). By making battles that are expected to last years last weeks, days, hours, retreating into dreams as quickly as they manifested, they catch the enemy off-guard. By inventing the concept of weeks they’re living in a way that their enemy doesn’t even fully understand. It allowed things to be put on tighter schedules, enabled meetings to be arranged and carried out on short notice, enabled rotating shifts for things such as uthenera where oftentimes someone had to be the person to rise and make sure the others’ bodies would not starve to death in dreams.

And it enabled sacred time rather than sacred space.

Often deprived of the places they would consider sacred, the rebellion created their own sacred ceremonies from wherever they happened to be. Battles that were fought and won on one cold winter morning would be marked again the next year in celebration and memorial, but carried on no longer than the skirmish itself had. When it is their freedom upon the line what time they have cannot be eaten up by weeks or years of frivolity. Not when tomorrow could be their last day alive.

Their years began with summer and their weeks began and ended with sundown, each month contained twenty-nine or thirty days, divided further into two fortnights, and there are twelve to thirteen months in a year (every two and a half years an intercalary month is added).

Days of the Week

The week begins with Saturday night/Sunday morning and continues on to sundown on the following Saturday.

Sa’laia — First Night (sah-lie-a)

She’laia — Second Night (shay-lie-a)

Tanalaia — Third Night (tah-na-lie-a)

Nehlaia — Fourth Night (neh-lie-a)

Uylaia — Fifth Night (ooth-lie-a)

Valaia — Sixth Night (vah-lie-a)

Var’laia — Our Night (var-lie-a)

Months

There are twelve to thirteen months in the year, with a leap month every two and a half years to compensate for the shift in the year.

Enasalas — The Triumph of Joy Over Grief — Justinian-Solace / June-July

Bella’serannas — The Time of Many Thanks — Solace-August / July-August

Valelgar — The Sun’s Waning — August-Kingsway / August-September

Adhalana — The Time of Trees — Kingsway-Harvestmere / September-October

Elvhen’al — The Gathering of the People — Harvestmere-Firstfall / October-November

Sethenerava — The Time for Dreams — Firstfall-Haring / November-December

Estarasyl’an — The Month of Stars — Haring-Wintermarch / December-January

Fen’banal’ras — The Wolf’s Shadow — Wintermarch-Guardian* / January-February

Mi’avhena — Winter’s End — Guardian-Drakonis / February-March

Thenalava — The Time of Waking — Intercalary Month, occurs every third year

Ghilana’ma — The Time of Guidance — Drakonis-Cloudreach / March-April

Anallas — The Month of Clouds — Cloudreach-Bloomingtide / April-May

Balam’shivana — The End of Duty’s Chains — Bloomingtide-Justinian / May-June

* The month of Guardian is a remnant of the Elvhen calendar’s influence upon the Tevinter calendar, as wolves are/were considered guardians in Elvhen myth.

These calendars later went on to become the Dalish calendar. After the fall of the Veil, refugees from both Elvhenan and Fen’Harel’s rebellion were overtaken by Tevinter, and their traditions melded and informed what is now contemporary Dalish culture. It is likely this calendar fell out of use during the period where Elvhenan’s survivours were slaves of Tevinter, and picked up again after they won their freedom. Names and meaning likely also changed as memories of the evanuris and their tyranny faded from memory.

#( long post )#( headcanons )#this place of love ( elvhenan )#i will die with you and you will be reborn again with me ( rebellion )#v; we were everyone ( elvhenan )#v; gods will fall but we will rise ( elvhen rebellion )

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