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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

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Falling For the Devil [Part fifty-four: "The Impossible Friendship"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Karen invites you out to Josie’s to have drinks with her and Marci.

You don't realize Karen and Marci have other intentions behind you coming out until it's too late.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: This installment is a part of the Big Angst arc. Forewarning, there is no comfort in the next handful of installments, not until you reach "The Aftermath" (Part 58) will there be comfort. Another angsty update bringing you closer to the installment with comfort. There's another Matt POV in this one! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here. And if you're enjoying it please let me know!

"Come on, why don't you just stop by?" Karen asked you over the phone. "Please? As far as I'm aware, Matt is still going to be finishing stuff up at the office with Foggy tonight. It's just Marci and I here at Josie’s right now."

You leaned against the door of your apartment, slipping your shoes off of your feet as you held the phone to your ear. "I don't know," you answered hesitantly. "I really don't think I'm ready to run into Matt. And I just finished a class so I'm all sweaty."

"That martial arts thing?" she asked curiously.

"The self-defense thing," you corrected her, rubbing a hand along your aching backside. "And yeah, I just finished up another training session tonight. My ass is somehow bruised from it."

"Well just wash up and bring your bruised ass to Josie’s," Karen urged. "We haven't seen you in a week and a half. If Matt shows up we'll just deal with that then. It's not like we can't leave if you want."

You ran your hand across your forehead next, blowing out a rough breath as you glanced at your empty apartment. If you stayed home you'd just be alone all night and that didn't sound remotely appealing in contrast. But your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the prospect of seeing Matt; you still hadn't seen or spoken to him since he broke up with you and jumped off your fire escape almost two weeks ago.

"I mean I suppose…as long as you really don't think he'll be there," you nervously answered. "I know it's been a couple weeks but…I don't know if I'm ready to see him, you know?"

Karen sighed gently over the line. "Yeah, I understand. But even if he did show up, it's not like he'd be a dick to you or anything. I heard him telling Fog the other day he’s been wanting to talk to you about everything. That he'd be open to a friendship if you were."

A pain hit you in your chest, right over your heart, sharp and hot. Friends. You'd go back to being friends again. After everything you'd been through with Matt, all that time you'd shared together, the way you still loved him, how you'd been a few months from living together and even mentally picturing a wedding in your future–he wanted to just be friends with you.

Swallowing down the lump of emotion in your throat, you said, "I suppose I can wash up and come out for a bit tonight with you two."

"Great!" Karen exclaimed excitedly. "We'll see you in a bit then!"

You exchanged goodbyes before hanging up. Head rolling back, it lightly hit into your apartment door as your eyes closed. You sure hoped Karen was right and Matt wasn't coming out tonight with Foggy after work. Because you weren't sure how you'd react to finally seeing him again.

Pushing yourself off of the door, you dragged your tired and bruised body to your bathroom. You pulled your hair up and started the shower, intending to quickly wash the sweat off of you before heading to Josie’s to meet up with Karen and Marci.

________

"Can we please talk about anything else?" you begged Marci. "We have discussed the breakup in depth plenty already and I would love an evening where I don't think about how much it hurts."

Her face softened across the table from you before she nodded. "Yeah, sorry," she muttered. "I just…don't understand what happened."

"You and me both," you grumbled, picking up your beer and taking a drink.

"So are you…dating yet?" Marci asked curiously. "Or like, sleeping around a little at least?"

Your brows furrowed as your nails fiddled nervously with the label on the beer bottle. "No, that's the furthest thing from my mind. Why, is Matt?" you asked, eyes darting between Karen and Marci.

"No," Karen said firmly, shaking her head. "I've heard nothing of the sort. I'm pretty sure he's still hurting."

"Yeah, I get the same vibe from Foggy Bear," Marci assured you.

Your eyes fell back down to your beer, your nails still picking at the label on it. You definitely didn't want to think about Matt fucking someone else. That certainly hurt too damn much.

“How’d that court case go for the firm?” you asked Karen, eyes still focused on the beer bottle. “I know it was sort of a big deal.”

“It finished up the other day,” she told you. “We won, thankfully. So that’s a big weight off of our shoulders this week.”

You nodded silently, drawing the beer back up to your lips. Taking a few deep drinks, you finished half of your third beer already. As you set the bottle back on the table, you ignored the way Karen and Marci were shooting you sympathetic looks. You knew you were drinking your beers down faster than usual, and you figured they both could easily guess why, but you’d had a long day writing bullshit fluff pieces for Ellison–which seemed to be your permanent assignments lately–before pushing your body through yet another rigorous self-defense lesson. You needed the buzz of alcohol to dull everything else right now.

A sharp inhale of a breath came from Marci across the table, the sound catching your attention. You glanced up at her from your bottle, raising a brow curiously. Beside her, you saw Karen stiffening in her seat, her back straightening as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. Immediately your shoulders sagged knowing there was probably only one reason they’d both reacted like that to something behind you. You chanced a look over your shoulder just for confirmation.

Sure enough, Matt was casually walking towards your table with a hand holding onto Foggy’s arm. Because of course he’d show up the one Thursday night you’d randomly popped into Josie’s. And of course he’d be looking handsome as fuck with his slightly messed navy blue tie and a few buttons undone on the top of his powder blue dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick, muscular forearms that you loved so much as his winter coat hung over one arm. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days either, but somehow the darker stubble only made him look more handsome. His hair was just a bit windswept from the walk here from their office, your fingers itching to comb through the dark strands and fix it as you'd often done so many times before. Your heart constricted in your chest at the sight of him and his easygoing smile–it wasn't fair that he looked this good.

You shifted back in your seat, a wave of nausea rolling over you that was entirely unrelated to the alcohol as you focused on the table. Clearly he’d known you were in here before he’d decided to come in anyway. You weren’t even sure what to make of that. Probably wanting to be friends , you thought bitterly. As if it was just that easy to pretend the last eight months hadn't happened. As if they hadn't been the best eight months you'd ever had. But maybe they hadn't been near as great for him. Tears burned at your eyes at the thought and you rapidly blinked them back.

“Hey ladies!” Foggy greeted, though you heard the bit of tension in his voice as he acknowledged you, saying your name which was more of a show for Marci to pretend that Matt didn’t know you were seated there. “I didn’t know you three were here.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously down at the table at the tone of his voice. Somehow you didn't believe this wasn't some elaborate setup between your friends. And while you didn’t believe Matt had been a part of it–you were sure he wasn't because he could have easily just called if he'd wanted to talk to you–he had nevertheless gone along with it.

“We were just having a little girl’s night,” Marci answered her husband.

“Ahh, well, we’re very sorry to intrude,” Matt replied in that charming way of his. “We just figured we’d grab a drink after the long day. We didn’t know you were all here this evening.”

Matt quickly greeted Karen and Marci before he said your name, the word sounding a bit pained as it came from his mouth. Your eyes remained fixed ahead of you, unable to look at him just to your left as you muttered a quiet greeting in return. Your heart was squirming in your chest, aware of his blank gaze on you from your peripheral. This was uncomfortable.

“We…can grab another table,” Matt offered awkwardly. “If you’d all prefer us–”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, eyes still avoiding him.

“You know, I think I’ll go grab us some beers,” Foggy announced, clearly feeling the discomfort and finding an excuse to disappear.

Matt’s hand reached out, falling onto the back of the chair beside yours. He pulled it out slowly, taking a moment to sit down at the table beside you. You picked up your beer and took another drink, ignoring the matching looks Marci and Karen were shooting you. When he’d settled into his seat, you saw him adjusting his glasses on his nose from the corner of your eye. He said your name again and you flinched.

“How have you been?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

You bit down on your tongue, fighting back the bitter laugh that threatened to spill out of you. How had you been? Fucking heartbroken, that’s how you’d been. What kind of a question was that? But you sure as hell weren’t about to admit that to him. Not like you figured he would truly care, considering he’d never once reached out to you after the breakup or the kidnapping to see how you were doing. Why the hell would he suddenly care about how you were doing now?

“Fine,” you answered sharply, intentionally not asking him in return. You didn't care he could tell it was a lie.

He shifted in his seat, the movement seeming a little uncomfortable. Good, you thought, let him feel uncomfortable. It was the very least he deserved.

Matt cleared his throat loudly, his attention shifting towards Karen and Marci across the table. “Do you maybe mind if we have a moment to talk?” he asked them.

Your eyes snapped shut as you heard the pair of them scooting their chairs back across the bar floor instantly. When you opened your eyes again, Karen was clearly urging you with her eyes to talk to him.

“Yeah, sure,” Marci said. Her gaze landed on you as she added, “Just let us know if you need anything.”

The pair of them grabbed their drinks and made their way towards Foggy at the bar. You sighed, feeling like somehow this had been a setup. You focused on peeling the label off of your beer bottle again, unable to look at Matt beside you as he turned in his seat, facing towards you. He sat focused on you for a long time, neither of you saying a word. You sure as hell didn't want to be the one to break the silence. But the longer you both sat there without speaking, the more uncomfortable you felt.

“I’m sorry for…what I did,” Matt finally said, a nervous tremor in his voice. "How horribly I ended things."

Your hand tightened around the neck of your beer bottle, eyes glaring at it. For some reason his simple apology after what he'd done only pissed you off. Especially since he hadn't even bothered to reach out to you, it had been your friends orchestrating whatever this awkward meeting was.

“No you’re not,” you shot back, drawing the beer to your lips for a drink.

Taken aback, Matt’s head tilted to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you could see his brows furrowing behind his dark glasses at you, his lips parting in surprise. You lowered the bottle to the table and continued to fidget with it.

“What?” he asked.

“You’d have to actually regret your actions to mean that,” you answered, still not looking at him. Even you heard the bitter edge in your voice as you continued. “And judging by your utter silence over the past two weeks, you don’t. I don’t remotely believe you’re sorry for how you just broke up with me after everything and then left me there. And honestly, I don't want a half-assed, unfeeling apology from you.”

“Sweetheart–”

“ Don’t ,” you warned coldly, cutting him off firmly as your eyes finally landed on him.

There was that sick feeling churning in your gut again, something unpleasant instantly washing over you just at the sound of that term of endearment you desperately wished to hear him say with the love and feeling he used to say it with. Matt sat frozen beside you, almost as if he’d accidentally slipped up with saying it himself and only realized it when you’d spoken.

“Don’t call me that,” you said firmly.

He nodded quietly, his mouth thinning into a straight line. You saw the movement of his throat as he swallowed hard, his face dropping down towards his lap. A confusing mix of emotions flickered through you as you let yourself take in the sight of him before you.

There was a large part of you, one that had been quickly growing over the last week, that wanted to yell at him. Maybe curse him out even. You wanted to tell him off and make him hurt, to make him feel even just a fraction of the pain you’d been feeling because of him. You wanted to tell him how pissed you were that he hadn’t emotionally been there for you after what had happened, though you’d certainly tried to be there for him. You wanted to tell him the fucked up part of that evening wasn’t the way he’d fucked you after, but the way he’d broke your heart and left you broken and alone–and then never reached out to you afterwards.

But there was also a part of you that was dying to throw yourself out of your chair at him. You wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest and cry. You wanted to feel his strong arms around you, hear his voice whispering in your ear how sorry he was and that everything would be okay. That he didn’t mean it. That he loved you still. That he wanted to fix things and talk through what happened.

Instead, he broke the awkward silence with one of the last things you wanted to hear.

“I’d like to find a way to apologize. To be friends, if that's alright?” he said, voice soft.

You winced at that word again.

“I don’t…want this tension between us,” he continued. “I uh, I don’t know if you would like that as well?”

Your hands tightened around the cold beer bottle on the table before you again, eyes glaring daggers at it. “Friends?” you asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” he replied quickly. “We can talk about something else for now. Like maybe why you’re covered in bruises?”

Your eyes narrowed further at the brown bottle in your hands, brows creasing together. “How do you even know that?” you asked.

“The uh, sound of your blood,” he answered awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath. “Well, I don’t think it’s really any of your concern,” you said, turning back to face him.

His face fell at your words, but your focus immediately shifted to just past his shoulder. A young brunette was determinedly making her way towards the pair of you, her eyes fixed on the back of Matt. Your grip tightened even further around the bottle of beer in your hand.

“Hey,” she greeted, cutting in the moment she reached the table.

Matt startled in his seat, almost as if he hadn’t been aware of her approaching the pair of you. He turned a little in his chair, shifting in the direction of the young woman. She smiled down at him, tucking a strand of hair nervously behind her ear. You wanted to puke.

“You know, I’ve noticed you in here a few times before,” she continued, ignoring you as she spoke, “and I’ve never had the nerve to just come say hi. I noticed you don’t have a drink, can I…maybe get you one?”

Your blood felt like it was boiling as Matt sent her that charming smile of his. It was like the universe thought it would be even more amusing to not only force you to have the friendship talk with Matt, but to then throw a pretty girl flirting with him in the middle of it. Because it’s not like your heart was hurting enough as it was, no, you needed to be reminded that this man drew attention from beautiful women everywhere he went. He didn’t need you .

“I appreciate that, but my friend has already grabbed me a drink,” Matt told her.

“Oh, okay, well maybe I can get the next one?” she asked hopefully, her hip leaning up against the table.

You lost it when Matt laughed lightly at her open flirting. As if this whole situation wasn’t killing you slowly to be stuck watching. Shifting in your seat, you drew your beer up to your mouth and downed the last half of it before roughly setting it back onto the table. The noise caused both of them to focus on you. Sliding out of your seat, you hoped Matt could feel the glare you were shooting him.

“I’ll pass on the friendship,” you told him.

“Oh, shit, was I interrupting something?” the young woman asked.

You shot her a sarcastic smile, ignoring the way Matt was quickly turning back towards you in his seat. “Yes,” you told her bluntly. “You were. But I’m done here. He’s all yours, sweetheart .”

Matt said your name, his tone almost desperate. “Wait,” he begged you. “Stay, please.”

But you didn’t.

You made your way towards the exit, the sound of your heart hammering in your own ears as you went. At the bar, you noticed Foggy, Karen, and Marci all wearing sad smiles. Even Josie behind the bar seemed to be shooting you a sympathetic look.

Fighting back the well of tears, you pushed the door open and left the bar. You didn’t need to force yourself to endure the pain of that situation any longer than you already had. The Matt you’d known would have told that young woman off for interrupting that conversation, for acting like you weren’t even there, but for some reason this time it had felt like he’d done the same.

You hugged your arms across your chest, sniffling hard as you walked back to your apartment alone, somehow feeling worse than when you’d begun your evening.

________

“Oh uh, I’m–I’m so sorry,” the young woman said.

Behind him, Matt could hear her taking a few steps back, but he was more focused on the sound of you lightly crying as you hurried away from Josie’s. He didn’t care when the young woman behind him slunk quietly away, he hadn’t even noticed her initially when she’d approached the table anyway. If anything, she’d been a frustrating interruption that he’d tried to politely get rid of, one that had blindsided him and made him further nervous when he’d been trying to figure out how to just talk to you.

Which, somehow he still fucked that up, too.

Your heart was beating unsteadily in your chest, though you were getting further and further away and it was quickly becoming almost impossible for him to keep focusing on it. He’d noticed it had been beating irregularly a lot lately whenever he passed by your apartment at night.

Though he had noticed the way it had stuttered in your chest the moment you’d seen him tonight. He’d also noticed the momentary uptick in your body temperature, the almost imperceptible flush on your cheeks, and the rush of pheromones rolling off of you when you’d first spotted him. He couldn’t deny that it had pleased him to still see your body reacting like that just at the sight of him, either. He always loved how you had reacted to him, consciously and unconsciously.

He had to admit it was difficult for him tonight to refrain from pulling you into a hug or drawing you in for a kiss–and fuck how he missed the taste of you on his tongue, missed the feel of your warm, soft lips always so eager for his. He missed the way you curled in against him whenever he embraced you, the scent of you filling his nose and those soft little sighs he didn't think you realized you made each time he did wrap you in his arms.

But you’d quickly become angry with him after that initial jolt of attraction. He felt the increase in your blood pressure, the race in your pulse, the tension in your muscles. You’d been subtly grinding your teeth, too, besides the nervous fidgeting with your beer bottle–which had been your third beer already. You’d been pissed at him, even more so after he had idiotically asked you how you’d been. Though the anger was rightly deserved; he had been an asshole. And even though he still felt it was best to not pursue something romantic with you to keep you safe from himself and his extracurricular nighttime pursuits, he hadn’t wanted to entirely cut you out of his life. Matt loved you too much to lose you permanently even though he knew how selfish that was.

But he also didn’t know how to reach out to you after what he’d done and what had happened. He didn’t want to give you false hope for something more between you both, because as badly as he wanted that, it wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe. But he was desperate to apologize and to help you understand why you were better off without him. So he had to admit that he had been a little bit happy when Foggy had told him about Karen and Marci’s ploy to get the pair of you to talk at Josie’s. At least he could blame it on them if you’d gotten mad about it–which it seemed like you had.

“What the hell happened?” Foggy asked, his tone light and teasing as he plopped into the chair beside Matt. “We leave you two alone for barely more than five minutes and you send her running off looking like she’s on the verge of tears!”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Matt murmured.

Foggy slid a beer towards Matt and he accepted it, uttering a soft ‘thanks’ before bringing it to his lips for a deep drink. He could feel Foggy’s eyes on him.

“Well, so what happened?” Foggy pressed.

Matt blew out a rough breath, raising his glasses with one hand and rubbing at his eyes with the other. “I don’t really even know,” he admitted. “She’s mad at me. Which I get and I definitely deserve that anger. But I barely had a chance to truly apologize, or to try to ease the tension before attempting to again. She certainly didn't want to hear it the first time. But then I was interrupted.”

“Ahh, yeah,” Foggy said, nodding. “Figured that’s what did it. Why didn’t you brush that girl off like you usually do?”

“I was trying to!” Matt quickly defended. “I didn’t even realize she’d come up to the table until she’d been talking. Wasn’t even remotely focused on anything else but our conversation. So when that woman showed up she threw me off entirely. By the time I was trying to send her on her way it was too late.”

Matt’s heart ached in his chest at how it felt to call out for you to wait, to just stay to talk to him, only to have you just walk away from him. Though he knew that pain didn’t feel remotely as horrible as when he’d done it to you two weeks ago.

“You know,” Foggy began, “that whole friendship thing is bullshit. You love her, man. Couple weeks ago I was pretty sure you were debating on ring shopping. What the hell happened? And don’t,” he continued sharply, Matt hearing the way Foggy’s hand rose and pointed a firm finger at his chest, “tell me it’s because she was kidnapped.”

“But it is,” Matt stressed, his hand gripping his beer bottle in frustration. He leaned in on the table closer to Foggy as he harshly whispered, “Backman’s men took her to get to me, Fog. Me . They held a gun to her head because of me . She doesn’t–doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to be with someone who won’t put her in danger. Who won’t have dangerous people kidnapping her because of what they do. Or put her in danger because of who they are." Matt roughly shook his head, drawing the beer back up to his lips. “She’s safer without me.”

“That’s stupid and you know it,” Foggy shot at him. “You know, Karen said she’s been taking a bunch of self-defense classes lately.”

Matt frowned as he set his beer onto the table. “That’s why she’s covered in bruises?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “And for the record, still really weird you can notice that.”

“Further proves my point,” Matt muttered, shifting in his seat.

“What point?” Foggy asked.

“She’s taking self-defense classes now, after what happened,” he answered. “She wasn’t afraid before, but now she is. And that’s on me.”

Foggy cleared his throat, the sound of him nervously chewing on his lip not lost on Matt. With a sigh Matt’s head turned to his friend beside him, raising a single brow.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just…” Foggy began hesitantly, “Karen said that she’d told her she was taking the classes because she no longer had Daredevil protecting her, not–not because of what had happened.”

Matt’s frown deepened, a pang hitting him in the chest at that information. “I’ll always protect her,” he replied immediately. “Always.”

“Karen also said that…there was more to it than the kidnapping,” Foggy continued awkwardly. “That uh, some of it was about what happened afterwards? When you two uh–” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “–you know.”

Matt grunted in frustration. Foggy’s heart nervously sped up at the sound.

“It uh, it’s really none of my business, man,” Foggy quickly added, “but Karen said she had repeatedly stressed that whatever happened was entirely consensual between you two. And I just think you two need to just sit down and talk.” “Fog, no,” Matt snapped. “I’ve told you already, her and I can’t happen. I won’t willingly put her in danger.”

“Matt, come on,” Foggy pushed. “She's miserable. You’re miserable. We all see it. You’re always out in the mask, too. You’re barely sleeping anymore, man. Always so distracted at work. And if you’re not grumpy, you’re mopey. I’m worried about you, Matt.” Foggy leaned closer towards his friend, resting his elbows on the table. “Dude, you love her. What the fuck is it going to take? Just talk to her. Stop torturing both of yourselves needlessly. Apologize and work it out.”

“I heard you the first time, Fog,” Matt grumbled, bringing his beer back up to his lips. “I intend to find a way to properly apologize. What I did was…wrong. And she shouldn’t have met that side of me. But anything more than friendship between us is not happening.”

Foggy was shaking his head roughly, Matt could hear the way air was moving around the pair of them. He could practically feel the disappointed look on his friend’s face.

“You just can’t ever let yourself be happy, can you?” Foggy asked, his voice sad.

“That’s not what this is,” Matt stated firmly.

“Isn’t it?” Foggy asked, his brows creasing together. “You’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you for the past eight months. Because of her . She’s perfect for you–hell, she accepts the weird and very unsafe hobby you have with open fucking arms! She accepts you ," Foggy pressed, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. "And the first time something goes wrong, the first time things get really scary for both of you, you just fucking bolt. You’re scared, Matt. That's what this is. You think if you leave her first, you won’t get hurt. But guess what buddy?” Foggy's hand left his friend’s shoulder, waving it around at Matt, gesturing roughly at him. “You’re already hurt. She's hurt. And you did it to yourself. But it doesn't have to be like this and deep down you know that."

Matt grit his teeth together, shaking his head as his focus dropped down towards his beer. “That’s not what this is,” he repeated.

Beside him, Foggy’s shoulders slumped as a sigh left him. He picked up his beer and took a long drink.

“If you say so, Matt,” he said, tone disbelieving.

This was about keeping you safe, Matt told himself. His friends just didn’t understand.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil x female reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x reader #matt murdock angst #fftd

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serenescribe · 10 months

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true love feeds on absences (like pleasure feeds on pain) Twisted Wonderland | 3.6k Summary: A departure, a reunion, and everything in-between. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48061801 (Spoilers for Chapter 7 of TWST!)

Was listening to “Set The Tigers Free” by Villagers yesterday. Felt the urge to write something to get out some pent-up emotions. Thought about Lilia leaving in the end, even after everything that has happened. Thought about Silver grappling with it. Spat this out before the newest update drops.

This one’s short enough to be directly cross-posted to Tumblr, so... enjoy!

In the end, Lilia still leaves.

After the overblot, the tears, the emotions—

The frantic reunions in everybody’s dreams, hands finding comfort intertwining in each other; the promises whispered to each other to break free, the defiant attempts to strike back at and stop Malleus—

Lilia still leaves.

“I shall keep in contact,” he promises with a smile, the corners of his weary eyes wrinkling. It’s more sad than anything else, a stark contrast to the lively send-off he’d wanted back before Malleus had ruined everything, cast all of Sage’s Island into an unyielding, neverending dream. At the very least, this time they have had some time to process everything, to recover and work through all their unspoken fears before the day of departure finally arrived. This time, it is not a sudden, abrupt exit with no closure. “But you all know I cannot remain here, not with my magic as weak as it is.”

Malleus’ expression is pained. It has been, ever since they’d all dragged him back from the throes of his overblot. There’s a seemingly permanent downturn to his lips, pressed thin, and his eyebrows always dip downwards, leaving creases in his forehead. “Lilia—”

“Shush, Malleus.” With a single flick of his wrist, Lilia effectively silences the prince. Perhaps before, Malleus would have pressed the matter, pushed harder — but now, humbled by the outcome of his selfish decision to throw everyone under his magic’s effect, he is quiet. “I know what you wish to offer,” Lilia says, with a dip of his head. “My answer, however, remains unchanged. I do not need, nor do I desire, any of your magic. Understood?”

The stormy silence that fills the air says it all. Distantly, there is a rumble of thunder somewhere outdoors, the sound peeking through the half-opened window of Lilia’s room.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Lilia sighs, shaking his head, hands on his hips. “Is that truly how you are going to send me off? And I’m not just talking about Malleus for once,” he adds, eyes turning to the two other figures in the room. “All those sour looks on your face… I ought to have thrown another farewell party if I knew the mood would be as sullen as it is.”

Silence fills the air again, a palpable fog of far too many emotions, tangled together until it’s thick, sticky, and oppressive.

Sebek recovers first. He shouts something about how grateful he is — and shall always be! — to Lilia for teaching him everything he knows, for training him to be the guard that he is today. Malleus is second, his dissatisfied expression softening into one of a reluctant acceptance. Despite the sadness that seems to permeate his eyes permanently now, he still embraces Lilia, leaning down to wrap his arms around the smaller fae.

And Silver—

When strong arms curl around him, he clings to them, leaning into the hold. His chest aches, a visceral, tangible pain that has been with him for such a long time. Silver has felt it for weeks, ever since his father had first dropped the bombshell that he would be leaving in a matter of mere days, completely throwing Silver’s world upside down in that one, small instance. He leans down, rests his head against Lilia’s shoulder, and as he feels his father’s arms squeeze him tightly, he cannot help it — tears prickle in his eyes, a sob escaping his lips.

“Shh, shh.” His father tries to calm him, rubbing his back, soothing him, but— Damn it. It still hurts so badly, a gaping wound cleaved right through his core, one that Silver thinks will never heal, will never scab over or scar. It will remain with him for as long as he lives, leaking rivulets of blood that no one can see, a broken heart caged between his aching ribs.

He almost whines as Lilia pulls away, the sound only cut off when two cool hands come up to cup his cheeks. “Do not cry, dear,” Lilia murmurs. “Otherwise you’re going to make your old man cry too. And then where will we be, hm?”

Silver tries to choke out a laugh, but it only emerges as another sob.

It hurts.

The cabin is yours now, Lilia had told him, pressing the keys into Silver’s hands in the lead-up to his initial departure, days before Malleus’ overblot.

At first, when he was still at Night Raven College, going through the remaining years of his education, Silver held a particular plan in mind. He would move back into the little cottage, help to maintain it — for it was where he had grown up, so many lovely childhood memories nestled within those wooden walls.

But upon his graduation, upon returning home and spending more than a few weeks living there—

There are ghosts haunting every nook and cranny, hiding in the corners and shielding themselves away until Silver stumbles upon them. He finds letters and drawings in a chest of drawers in his father’s room, and spends hours sitting there on the floor, looking through every scribbly artwork and wonky letter he’d ever given his father as a child, silent tears dripping down his face until it grows too dark to read. He discovers old gifts Lilia had given him after returning from his travels — trinkets nestled in the back of his wardrobe or under his bed, covered with thick layers of dust that makes him sneeze. He finds his father tucked away in everything he left behind — the ruined kitchen utensils, the dusty clothes hanging in his wardrobe, the weathered books on the shelves, all of it.

It grows too much for him to bear, every moment spent inside his house causing the wound in his heart to tear open a bit more. Blood gushes out as tears involuntarily gather at the corners of his eyes, time and time again.

Before long, he begins to spend more time at the castle, or at the Zigvolts’ place, staying away from his childhood home.

(A home that is little more than a house now, for Silver knows—

His true home is somewhere far away, in the Land of Red Dragons, all by himself.)

Even with the letters they receive — individualised ones, delivered every once in a blue moon, that familiar, messy scrawl indicating whose is whose — the pain still does not get any better. If anything, it feels worse.

Lilia writes with such informality, in a way that makes Silver able to imagine him speaking the exact words scrawled on the paper. Every time he cuts open the envelope, unfurling the paper to read ‘My dear boy!’ or even just ‘Silver!’ written with such an enthusiasm that he can practically hear him, Silver has to stop himself, put the letter down in favour of sucking in a deep breath. To quell the permanent pain in his heart before his emotions overtake him, drag him down until tears stain the ink and paper.

Lilia is fine. He’s content, even, spending his days travelling around the region he’s moved to, befriending the locals, assisting them where necessary. Even without his magic, his father is still capable of a great many things. His body has not begun to fail him yet — but it is the yet that Silver lingers on, every new letter reminding him of just how much time they are spending apart.

Him, growing older, attaining the knighthood status he’d been training all his life for.

(His father, growing older, tucked away somewhere far and foreign, his body slowly, steadily, beginning to give out on him.)

‘I hope you are doing well,’ Lilia writes, as he always does in some variation or another. ‘Malleus has told me of yours and Sebek’s knighting ceremony; I only wish I could have been there to witness it.’

Lilia learns of these things through Malleus, through Sebek, because they write back to him. Because they send off letters to take the long voyage to where Lilia stays, keen to keep in touch, sharing their lives with smiles on their faces.

Silver has never written back to his father. It has never been for a lack of trying; he has wanted to pen a response so many times, aching to spill his life, everything he has done, to his father. To speak to him, to get a response back telling him how proud Lilia is of him, how much he loves him, to ask questions about every little detail of what Silver tells him about.

But every single time he sits down with a pen and paper, every time he tries to write—

He can’t. He can’t.

(‘I’m proud of you,’ Lilia always writes at the end of his letters. ‘I love you, Silver. I always will.’

It is those words that break him over and over again, tears splashing into the empty parchment in front of him until he inevitably crumples it up, throwing it to the ground in a fit of childish rage.

Of a desire, so deep and innate, to see his father again.)

The years pass. Silver gets older.

He stumbles through life, clings to his routines like a lifeline. Time only makes the wound ache worse; he has never managed to finish a single letter to send back to his father.

(He keeps all the ones he receives tucked away in a locked chest in his room at the castle. He has long since moved out of the cabin, only returning every so often to upkeep it, to keep it clean and pristine.

He strings the key to the chest around a chain, tucked away under the cloth of his clothes. It lies there, close to his broken heart at all times.)

New faces come and go. He and Sebek get the honour of training future soldiers and guards, settling into a routine with a refined ease.

Sebek matures, though slower than Silver does. He is less scathing with his words, less derogatory with the way he treats humans. He smiles more now. It looks nice on him, Silver thinks.

Malleus looks the same as always, save for a mature air of composure that surrounds him, a certainty he carries himself with. He opens up more now; the servants have gossiped about getting swept up in conversations with their prince, tittering to each other as Silver passes them in the hallways.

Silver changes faster than them. His physique shifts, appearance maturing into something he knows people whisper about. He has been subjected to his fair share of suitors clamouring for his hand, the fact that he is human irrelevant to them in favour of his beauty. He accepts the compliments with a small smile, having learnt how to express himself better over time, but always turns down anyone who requests to court him.

Whenever he looks into the mirror, an unexplainable feeling always overwhelms him. A hollow ache in the middle of his chest. A vortex that always churns and eats at him.

(The wound over his heart still leaks blood. Over a decade has passed, but it has never healed.

Silver knows what he feels whenever he looks into the mirror. He feels vulnerable, young, a fervent desire within him to run back into the arms of his father and never let go.)

Lilia still writes to them all. His letters always arrive consistently at the same times.

Silver has still yet to ever reply.

“I am dismissing you from your duties as a knight.”

Silver blinks. He stares, not quite wrapping his head around the words.

Malleus stares back at him, narrowed eyes piercing from where he sits, one leg crossed, on the elegantly curved chair used at the table in his study. There is no room for argument in his expression, only a resolute firmness, the made-up mind of a soon-to-be king.

And then he processes the words. “What?” Silver blurts out, undignified and startled, his usual decorum with his prince lost upon him. His heart hammers against his chest, the sound pounding in his ears. Fear seizes him. “I— My lord—”

“Malleus,” the fae corrects, with a swift interruption and a dip of his head. “There is no longer any need for such formalities between us, especially not in the privacy of this room.”

“Malleus,” Silver corrects, still trembling, feeling weak all over. Like he is a teenager again, his emotions a struggle for him to comprehend, his heart too big for him to express. “I strongly urge you to reconsider your decision—”

“I have already made up my mind.”

Silver sucks in a breath. “Why?” he asks, the question coming out as a soft pathetic whine. Has he failed somewhere? Shirked his duties as a knight? But Malleus had expressed no discontent prior to this — and even now, as Silver calms from the surge of irrational emotions that swung him by surprise, he can sense no dissatisfaction from his prince, only a calm certainty. It only serves to puzzle him even more.

Those sharp, yellow-green eyes almost seem to soften as they land upon him.

“Is it not obvious, Silver?” Malleus says, not unkindly. “Your heart is not in it — in any of it. It has not been for years. My only mistake was not realising sooner, how unhappy it made you to remain here.”

Silver stares, shell-shocked, mouth parted in his confusion.

“I—” A lump chokes his throat, and he swallows it down. “What gave you the impression that I am unhappy?” he asks, a little carefully; his hands ball into fists, shaking by his side. “I have always wanted to serve you, my lord—”

“Malleus.”

“—Malleus,” he corrects, wincing at the pointed look shot his way. “It is what I was raised for, is it not? Everything I have gone through, it has all been for your sake.”

Malleus hums, pressing a hand against his chin. He looks contemplative. “Perhaps,” he says, after what feels like a tense eternity to Silver. “But is that what you desire? Or is that merely what has been instilled in you since young?”

Silver freezes.

(A realisation looms over him, one he has always pushed out of his mind from how deeply it hurts him, burying it after it had gotten too much for him to bear.

A fervent desire shared with Malleus long ago, on an abnormally snowy night at Night Raven College, during the eve of his father’s departure.)

“I have always wondered,” Malleus says, “why you have never written back to him.” He does not need to specify who he is talking about; Silver already knows. “At first, I had presumed it to be out of anger. A betrayal, perhaps, similar to what I had felt when I overblotted. And yet, such an assumption directly contradicts how you act whenever his letters arrive. You are always first to retrieve yours, retreating to your room to look through its contents.”

Malleus exhales, closing his eyes.

And then he opens them, and smiles.

“I give you my permission to depart,” he says, in a firm voice that leaves no space for any protest. “And with that, my blessings alongside it.”

In the softest, kindest voice Silver has ever heard from him, Malleus says:

“Go home to him, Silver. You have waited long enough.”

The wound in his heart has stopped bleeding.

It is still not healed, still open and raw. But there is nothing dripping from it, a strange, suspended feeling that Silver experiences as he packs what meagre belongings he has into a single bag, and prepares to depart.

(He brings all the letters. He has to, after all.

He needs to answer every question written in them when they meet again.)

Malleus sees to his departure, ensures that Silver has enough funds to get there, readies the magic mirror within Briar Valley to take him somewhere with an airport. He sees Silver off personally, smiles at him with such a knowing look in his eyes — “Give him my best regards, would you?”

Sebek shows no surprise when Silver springs the news upon him. All he says is, “IT’S ABOUT TIME!” in that booming voice of his, slaps Silver on the back and laughs heartily. He is there when Malleus sees him off, a private affair shared between the three of them. Silver is surprised at how teary-eyed his friend is when they embrace — though when he brings it up, teases Sebek with a light smile, Sebek merely says, “I am only crying because I am thinking of all those suitors of yours I must handle!”

When he steps through the portal, he blinks in jarring disconcertion at the modern world, so unused to it after so much time tucked away in Briar Valley. The valley is still far behind the times, modern inventions only slowly beginning to snake their way into its populace’s daily life, and to face the sleek shininess of an airport is a little much for his mind to handle.

Still, he somehow finds his way through everything, asks for assistance wherever necessary — he is taking a flight to the Land of Red Dragons, would someone happen to know where he must go? And before long, he has boarded the plane, settled in for the long ride, leaning back in his seat as the vehicle takes off.

A ball of anxiety unfurls in his chest, threads of nervousness creeping their way through all the corners of his body. Though he tries to sleep it off, sinking back into his habits as easily as ever, he wakes with consternation still festering in his veins, claws still gripping his chest.

The Land of Red Dragons is as he expects when he steps outside the airport, mind dredging up every little detail described in his father’s letters over the years. Slowly, with his nerves only mounting as he goes through each necessary step, Silver finds someone willing to drive him as close to wherever his father is staying as they can.

He dozes off during the drive.

(In his dreams, he stumbles into his father’s own, watches at a distance as he has done countless times over the years.

How long has he longed for this? To reunite, to embrace, to hold him again in his arms, allowing his tears to spill easily, some inner child within him finally soothed?

He does not remember anything when he wakes, as he always does.)

Before he knows it, Silver is here.

He is dropped off at the edge of a wide and open plain. The wind whips at the tall strands of grass, blows at his hair and clothes as he stares down at a little house nestled between bumpy hills. There is smoke emerging from the chimney, the walls made of burgundy bricks, and there is a little wooden porch out in front, a swing chair resting there. The lawn is unkempt — and Silver stifles a smile at that, a warmth swelling within him at the sight of thick throngs of weeds and wildflowers — and there is a little mailbox with the red flag turned up. Peeking over the fence around the backyard is what looks like a large, wooden coop.

He makes his way down slowly at first.

And then he speeds up. A leisurely walk turning into a run, until he’s sprinting and panting, heart swelling so full with a longing desire that he has stifled for over a decade, unwilling to wait any longer—

(The cut through his heart is beginning to stitch itself back together, mending itself in a way that it has not for such a long time.)

And when he stumbles up the porch, rings the doorbell, rocking nervously backwards on his heels—

The door swings open, a familiar face peering through the crack, crimson eyes widening with a thousand emotions upon landing on him, before the door is flung wide open—

Silver surges forward, sweeping Lilia up into an embrace long overdue, arms curling tightly around his father as he buries his head in his hair — longer now, reaching just past his shoulders, streaks dyed a pale, delicate pink. He just about sobs at the scent of that familiar shampoo, tears beading up at the corners of his eyes.

And when he feels arms curl around him, returning the embrace?

He finally breaks.

“Father,” he gasps between choked sobs, fingers curling into the soft knit of Lilia’s sweater, tears dampening his cheeks as he cries unabashedly — an adult now, a grown man, rendered but a child after so long spent missing his papa. “I missed you so much, I—”

The words escape him.

Silver only sobs, trembling and shaking in Lilia’s hold, soothed by the circles being rubbed into his back, the gentle murmurs of his father’s voice as he whispers, “There, there, dry your tears, dear.”

And when they finally pull away from each other, after what feels like an eternity of letting loose every emotion he has buried, Lilia raises his hands to cup his cheeks, and Silver feels like bursting into a fresh flood of tears all over again.

His father smiles at him, face more wrinkled than it was before, his age finally catching up with him. And yet, he still looks young, young enough — It is only how the fae age, Silver thinks with a small, shy smile, graceful and glorious until the very end.

Soon, Lilia will usher him in, will demand to know why and how he has come here. Silver will tell him of how Malleus relieved him of his duties, knowing before Silver did what he needed, and granting him the opportunity to take it for himself. Lilia will show him his house, the guest room filled with all his various trinkets and junk, and the spare bed that Silver will take as his own. They will talk and laugh over a meal, before clinging to each other on the sofa, catching up after over a decade apart.

But for now, Silver allows himself to relish in his father’s tender embrace, feeling thumbs brush over his tear-stained cheeks so delicately.

(The wound in his heart has finally healed, after everything.)

He is home.

“True love feeds on absences like pleasure feeds on pain So no matter where I’m standing, I still love you all the same And I hope you feel the same way when it’s your turn to disappear I’ll be cheering from the sidelines with a sandwich and a beer” — Set The Tigers Free (Villagers)

#twst #twisted wonderland #not as rampant spoiler-wise but still. whole premise is a spoiler #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #my writing tag #is it a drabble if it's 3k? well. considering i usually wrote >10k...#idk. go stream set the tigers free by villagers #thank you for reading if you do <3 #personal writing

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imaalesbiannn · 1 year

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Birthday head

The is my first time writing on tumblr so don’t judge me if this looks a damn mess.

G!p Emily x fem read

Summary: it’s Emily’s birthday so you reward her with head ;)

You light the candles and fix the roses that’s in the vase as you hear Emily fumbling with the key in the door. She had just gotten off of work. She didn’t have a case for say but she had files that needed to be done.

“Hey sexy I’m home.” Emily says as she finally unlocks the door manages to walk to the kitchen. “Hey honey. I cooked you some of your favorite Alfredo pasta with broccoli and shrimp.” You say standing on your tippy toes and giving her a meaningful kiss as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. “And also happy birthday.” you add with a nervous smile.

“Thanks baby and yum” she reply’s as she pecks your lips again and wraps her arms around your waist. “Okay let’s get eating so you can open your gifts I’ve gotten you,” you say as you pat her shoulder and part from her.

You guys sit down at the table across from each other and start eating your food. “God damn baby this is good.” Emily says as she moans from another bite. “Thanks I really tried my best.” You say shyly as your face turns red. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, give me a kiss now.” Emily leans over the table and gives you a hard kiss causing you to giggle and peck her lips again.

After dinner you guys go to the living room where you pull out her gifts and sit them down on the coffee table. “Let’s see.” You hum. “Which one you wanna open first?” You ask her while you sit down in her lap. She just looks at you. You know that look. “Absolutely not em open your gifts first.” You scold her.

“But baby.. I want to unwrap you.” She looks at you then at your breasts then back at you. “I’m gonna get us some wine baby unwrap your gifts please.” You tell her as you hop up and go to the kitchen. She watched you walk and looks down at your ass. “She’s gonna be the death of me” Emily hums to herself as she reaches for the first gift she sees.

After Emily is done unwrapping her gifts and many many thanks you’s and kisses later you turn to her as you guys sit on the couch. Her arm around your shoulders with wine glasses in each of your hands. You put the wine glass down and say “are you ready for your last gift?” “Sure what is i- oh” you start taking off your shirt then your jeans and straddle her hips as you sit on her lap. “I like where this is going… a lot” she says as she starts to grope your ass. She starts to smack it as your kiss her neck and leave her hickies.

You take her shirt off and start to kiss her lips. She starts to groan and you can feel a bulge in between her legs.

The thing is. You and Emily haven’t had sex in like two weeks because of her job and the cases she had to go on plus files and staying late at the bau. During that time you’ve gotten so horny but not being able to touch yourself without Emily’s permission had you sucking on the dildos you guys had while she wasn’t home. This caused you to start throat training yourself since Emily is quite big and you’ve never been able to deepthroat her fully. But today… today was a different story.

You hop off her lap and start to pull down her pants as she looks down at you breathing in and out fastly. As you pull down her pants you can see her huge buldge. Mind you Emily is at least 8 and a half inches maybe even 9. You pull her boxers down and your mouth waters at her girthy dick standing high. It’s so veiny and has a slight curve.

You wrap your mouth around her tip and give it a light suck before going back down pushing half her cock to the back of your throat. Causing Emily to moan and lean back in the couch. You go down again on her cock with your mouth and start going to town. You start bobbing your head up and down on her cock so fast that it’s hitting the back of your throat causing your throat to make loud wet gagging noises. Emily’s moaning like crazy as she grabs your head and forces your throat farther down on her cock. She grabs your hair and bobs you up and down up and down barley giving you room to breathe. She pushed your head down one more time with a loud cry as you deepthroat her whole cock and stick your tongue out and lick her balls as you deepthroat. You lift your head up to get some air as you kitten lick her tip. You start to give her a hand job seeing that she’s close and flustered. As you’re giving her a hand job you can hear her breathing getting heavy and her legs start to move a little letting you know she’s almost close. The sound of your hands rubbing her cock are making squelching noises and at last she lets out a loud noise giving you the signal that she’s cuming. And as she does you let go of her cock and deepthroat her so she’s cuming in your throat. This sets her off she has your hair in her hands and she forces you all the way down and her toes curl as you hold her thighs down so she can stay still. All you can hear is her moaning and breathing fast as you can feel her cum hitting the back of your throat going into your belly. She finally stops cuming and pushes your head up because of her sensitive tip. “Holy shit baby where did you learn that?” She asks as she’s heaving to catch her breath.

“I had a little bit of practice while you were gone. That’s all”

#emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x reader #girl love girl #criminal minds #emily prentiss #bau team

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monstersandmaw · 5 months

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Hello! Here's an early release story for you that will be up on Tumblr in a week's time. Anon sent me this message and I responded with almost 8000 words:

"human prince who got cursed and turned into a merman, and while his family and the royal court struggle to find a way to break the curse he finds he's actually happier as a merman"

It's 3rd person, sfw, and features an orca clan who adopts our frightened prince, and there's a hint of mlm romance for one of the orcas with a human in the future... Anyway, I hope you like something a little different.

As always, please feel free to point out typos or inconsistencies - I'm currently dosed to the max on cold medication, so there's a very real chance I've missed something!

Take care x

Content: some mild elements of body horror during the curse/turning scene, brief but not gory/too explicit mention of marine animal death, some implied trauma resulting from a transformation against his will/separation from family and previous existence at a young age, brief description of blood/injury from a harpoon to another character

Wordcount: 7965

Dusk gathered over the gentle swells of the open ocean, gilding the new yardarms and painting the perfectly crisp, white sails of the Royal Navy’s flagship with a pink and orange watercolour glow. The ship’s guests drank and laughed, and celebrated The Sea Rose’s maiden voyage, utterly unaware that they were enjoying their final few moments of life as they knew it.

Unremarkable in almost every way, a small porpoise had been playing in the bow wave, its small, dark body darting mere inches from the stem each time it plunged in and out of the spray and waves.

It didn’t hear the warning from the sea witch racing to catch up with it, and when the young porpoise’s concentration slipped and the black-painted stem of ‘The Sea Rose’ collided with its solid little body, no one on board noticed the tragedy of its passing. Even if the guests hadn’t been half drunk on the heady mix of wine and their own self-importance, there was no one on lookout in the crow’s nest that day; the new ship was flanked for her safety by two frigates a little way off, both crewed with the Navy’s finest and bristling to the gunwales with cannon and ammunition. There was no need to keep a watch this time.

There was, after all, no danger.

And yet, the animal’s accidental death would not go unmarked, unmourned, or unpunished.

Heedless of the vengeful danger rising swiftly from beneath the ship, the king himself strode along the main deck in his white and gold finery, leaving his guests for a moment as he spotted his thirteen year old son standing at the taffrail on the afterdeck and staring out at the ship’s trailing wake.

He slapped the skinny boy on his shoulders by way of a greeting, and nearly sent him toppling over into the sea from the force of his jovial blow. Hauling him upright again with a meaty fist at the scruff of his velvet doublet, the king laughed, cheeks red with drink and the bracing sea air, and he grinned down at his second eldest son.

“What’s got into you, lad?” he asked, his words a little thick and his green eyes a little glassy. “You’ve begged me for years to be allowed to go to sea, and now you’re here, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else! You’re not seasick, are you, lad? You’re going to be Admiral of the Fleet when your brother ascends the throne — can’t have you turning green at the slightest bit of swell!”

“It’s not that, father,” he said, mustering a smile for the king. “I’m sorry. I was just… thinking.”

Down below on the deck, the little prince’s older brother was talking with a few of the captains and admirals, and the boy felt suddenly every bit as young as he was. ‘King’ Eolan was a title that would suit his brother one day, with his regal bearing and his noble features, while the younger boy was gangly and too skinny to fill out the doublet he wore or the fine leather boots on his small feet.

He didn’t get the chance to observe the Crown Prince in action for much longer though, because a shudder ran the length of the new ship, and conversation sputtered and died.

The sails quivered and the rigging shook like spiderwebs before a coming storm. All the hands looked to their stations while the royal guests shifted uneasily and someone dropped a wine flute into the silence of the swelling sea. The Crown Prince scuttled up the stairs to the afterdeck and joined his father, tense and alert, though not before laying a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and offering a reassuring smile.

While the ship sailed past the stricken porpoise in a foaming, heedless rush, the creature bobbed past with its back broken, dead on impact, and the sea darkened around it and then began to boil and churn along the sides of the ship.

Finally, a shout went up and someone standing by the rail on the port side pointed and then reeled back in alarm. They were joined by more guests and sailors until half the ship’s company was hanging off the side and staring into the water that had turned an inky black around the corpse of the sea creature.

The thirteen year old prince followed his father to the railing of the high afterdeck and peered over in time to see a humanoid figure rise from the water. Her long, wet hair hung around her shoulders like a veil of moonlight, and her eyes flashed the colour of the ocean on a summer’s day. Her skin was freckled and oddly iridescent and the air around her seemed to shimmer like the road on a summer’s day. In her right hand she held a staff that was the silvery brown of old driftwood, wrapped around with seaweed like the leather on the grip of a quarterstaff, and her lower body appeared to be that of a leopard seal.

The prince’s breath caught and he stared, slack jawed down at her, forgetting to be afraid.

...

Read the whole thing, and get access to my entire Patreon-exclusive back catalogue, as well as joining our chilled out Discord server here, for just $3! Those on the Little Ghosties tier also have access to one new, exclusive Patreon story per month, and for December, there might be more than one...!

#merfolk #merman #orca merfolk #mackerel merman #macks the merman #early release #patreon

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moosemonstrous · 4 months

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btw I have now put links to both the tag here and on AO3 in my bio bc I got sick of scrolling through tumblr 😌 Full disclosure - I have met lab people who act like small animals caught in the middle of a road whenever someone dares to enter their domain.

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - sticks and stones

“Can’t promise the spot will stay open,” Kwok tells him apologetically. “But this is good, no? All the young’uns want to go to the academy!”

Robbie would bet his working eyeball that none of the young'uns would be so keen on it after ten minutes alone with Major Brooks. “So I keep hearing,” he mutters. “Sorry for the trouble. I appreciate you taking me on in the first place.”

“Navos is good people,” Kwok shrugs. The Shatterdome functions on a rather opaque network of favours and IOUs. ‘Good people’ seems to be a fairly high praise. Not quite on 'one of ours' level, but high. “You remember me when you are a ranger up in the dome and we’re even.”

And just like that, the transport maintenance chapter of Robbie’s career closes with little fanfare. Technically, he didn’t have to come speak to Kwok in person – his assignment has already gone through and the man would’ve been notified either way. He doesn’t want to leave a bad impression, though. For all he knows, the battery of tests he’d been fast-tracked through the day before will spit out some convoluted reason for why the drift activated on its own and he will be back on the job market before the end of the week. At least there are plenty of positions open – it’s easier to hire someone inside the base and train them up than wait for the paperwork to clear for an experienced worker from the outside.

He remembers the last time he let himself think things were finally turning around, though. He’s not going to make that mistake again.

At least his head is clearer after half an hour in a giant magnet and a full night’s sleep. He’s still unable to hold a conversation with Ivanov without some truly strange thoughts popping up like bubbles on the surface of a pot – the more tired or angry he gets, the harder it is to ignore them. He knew he was going to pay for running on fumes for weeks, and being sedated for nearly three days must have knocked something loose, but. Nothing proper sleep hygiene and some semblance of a routine won’t fix.

Or maybe you’re just noticing stuff, because you ain’t an idiot. Huh? Could it be that?

Or maybe this whole business with The Charger is extremely weird and Robbie should be packing up and running for the hills. Unfortunately, his and Gabe’s permits only work in Hong Kong and when he last checked how much it would be to fly back to US, he had to sit down for a long moment. Even if he was willing to risk taking a ship, where would that leave them? Back on a decimated coast, hoping the wind doesn’t blow over nuclear fallout, and struggling to find enough food for both of them? Queuing at state borders for days or weeks, hoping they’ll be lucky enough to get through on the increasingly stringent rules? Nevada already stopped letting in anyone without immediate family members or sponsors in-state.

Looks like the only way forward is through.

His wristband scans through to the R&D wing now. The soldiers standing guard give Robbie odd looks, but don’t make a move to stop him, so he forces his shoulders down and walks through the armoured door like he knows what he’s doing.

He has no idea what he’s doing. Cho said, ‘come find me in R&D before noon’. There are at least fifteen labs just in this one corridor and none of the doors have anything approaching a comprehensible naming convention. Some signs are just a piece of printer paper with a name scrawled over it, some have the original writing taped over with a KEEP OUT sticker, some seem to list the people working inside. None of those list an Amadeus Cho. It’s half past eleven.

Eventually, Robbie sticks his head in a room labelled ‘HMT DES’. Inside, there are three circular podiums with a mannequin each, showcasing variations of the PPDC hazmat suits. There are three people inside; two hide behind the middle suit as soon as they notice him, leaving the third to fend for herself.

“Can–can I help you?” she asks nervously. She has blue hair and wears fishnet sleeves over a tank top. Not exactly the nerd attire Robbie was expecting.

“I’m looking for Amadeus Cho,” he explains, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. It’s the opposite of what he usually tries to achieve, and she looks like she might be having an anxiety attack. “Any idea where I could find him?”

The girl listens to some frantic whispering from behind the suit. “In the bone lab,” she squeaks. Then blushes so hard Robbie worries she might actually pass out. “Up one floor, two doors down on the left, thankyouseeyoulater.”

What the hell.

He closes the door.

At least with the directions he finds the right room in less than five minutes. The label indeed reads ‘bone lab’. He’s pretty sure the music blasting from the inside is Dead Kennedys. When nobody answers his knocking, he prays he isn’t about to embarrass himself further and pushes the door open.

Cho is standing with his back to him at a table completely covered in… either huge chunks of dirty plaster or – more likely and vastly more disturbingly – massive bone fragments. He’s holding a metal training staff. Before Robbie can call out, he brings it over his head and smashes one of the chunks. When it doesn’t break, he adjusts his grip and tries again. And again. And again, until the greenish-grey surface cracks, at which point he gives out a little whoop.

“Cho?” Robbie risks. The music is too loud, coming from a small bluetooth speaker at the edge of the table. It’s shaped like a cat head. “Hey, Cho!”

Cho whirls around with the staff ready to smack the intruder. He’s wearing thick safety goggles. When he sees Robbie, he drops his weapon to the table with a clatter. “Good news!” he shouts over the music, like it’s normal both for people to just show up in his lab and to start a conversation from the middle. “You don’t have brain cancer!”

Well. That’s definitely good news.

“Was that a–?” He waits for Cho to lower the speaker’s volume through his phone. “Was that a risk?”

Cho is busy checking his messages, frowning. “Did you break my outfitters?”

“What?”

“Hazmat lab?” The frown becomes a grin as he scrolls through a bunch of texts. Robbie feels like that’s worse. “Good job getting on their good side, they might be designing your drivesuit soon.”

“I just–“ Can we get to the point? This kid is missing a screw. “You said to come find you?”

“Yes! Come on, take a–“ he picks up a hammer from an office chair before sliding it towards Robbie. “There you go. I was hoping we could talk without the grown-ups hovering around.”

The grown-ups. Robbie can already feel a headache coming. He takes a seat while Cho leans on the table, untroubled by a pile of skeletal remains inches from his back. “Talk about what?”

Cho scrambles around for a remote and points it at one of the screens at a wall behind Robbie. He flicks through several output sources – one is most definitely a cartoon show Gabe used to love back in L.A. – until he finds what looks like the Hell Charger’s blueprints.

“That,” he says, suddenly serious. “What do you actually know about this jaeger?”

“I already–“

“Yeah, but that can’t be all,” Cho cuts him off impatiently. “I found your records from before your mom took you and your brother off-base. You were eight. Your dad never took you to the hangar?”

Not really. Mama didn’t want you losing fingers in the machinery.

“Wasn’t a place for a kid,” he mumbles. There are records? “I don’t really remember much from that time. Weren’t all the records sealed?”

I told you Ivanov is full of shit.

“Oh, they were,” Cho smirks. “But the last guy in my role had access to some of the classified stuff, and nobody ever revoked it. You know how it is.”

Robbie has no idea how it is. “What do they say?”

“Nothing!” Cho groans. “Just that you and your brother existed. That’s why I’m asking.”

It’s both crushingly disappointing and a perfectly good reason for Ivanov to just say there was no information available. Keep deluding yourself. You’ll see I’m right sooner or later. Still, Robbie doesn’t really have much he can – or wants to – tell Cho.

“Sorry, I can’t help,” he shrugs. “I’m told we left before it was decommissioned. Mom never talked about it.”

Cho lifts up his goggles to his forehead to rub his eyes. He seems frustrated. “No weird work anecdotes? No drama about close calls?” He huffs when Robbie shakes his head. “Great. Another dead end. What did Ivanov tell you?”

“Just that my dad used to be a pilot. That he died killing Daggerblight.”

There is a long moment where Cho watches him like he’s waiting for Robbie to crack and admit to some vast conspiracy. When nothing happens, he blows the air out of his cheeks. “Bummer. Oh well, let’s go find Montesi before she starts wondering where we are.”

Robbie feels the bottom of his stomach freeze over. “We were supposed to be meeting her, too?”

Cho is already walking over to the door. He holds it open with a stupid little bow. “Yep. We better hurry.”

Robbie kind of wants to punch him. He’s beginning to suspect this will be a common occurrence.

#ghost rider pacific rim au #robbie reyes #amadeus cho #the texts amadeus is getting are mostly keysmash followed by 'he cute tho'#amadeus stop bringing up how little he remembers he'll do something stupid about it

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sebastian-queen · 19 days

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That was a million years ago

So, here we are once more. Almost 7 years and a liftetime later. I haven't been on tumblr in forever and I haven't been missing it either. BUT... I have been slowly falling in love with watching tv shows again and my current obsession is 'the rookie' and the pairing of Lucy Chen & Tim Bradford. And there's a lot I need to get of my chest and I need to have a place to put things.. This might be it...

I haven't watched 6x05 or 6x06 but saw enough for this to come through.

It feels like her heart has been ripped out of her chest, the moment he walks away. Half of her wants to run after him, scream that it's not his choice to make alone, but her feet won't give. She just stands there, unable to move, she feels lightheaded before she realizes she had forgotten to breath. She blinks through her tears until the only thing she sees is his faint frame in the distance, that's when she finally lets herself go completely and starts sobbing uncontrollably. The only person she thought would always be by her side, who would stand his ground next to her, just left her and she's not sure she's ever going to be okay after this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's a week before she manages to look him in the eye again and mutter a silent 'hello' when he greets her from across the hall. She feels like all eyes are on her and she hates it. She hates that the job that used to give her so much solace and joy is just a stiff reminder of the one person she wants most in the world but can't have. So, it's to no surprise to her that she eventually finds herself in Grey's office.

'I need to transfer to a different station' and even she hears the emotional turmoil in her voice 'it's time.'

'Lucy. I don't'

'Sir, please. This is hard for me. This station is my family, but it just hurts too much to be here, to be around him' she all but whispers the last part as her eyes catch the person she's talking about.

Grey just stands there watching her and it's as if he can already see that she's made up her mind because as much as he probably wants to, he doesn't stop her, or tries to change her mind and for once she appreciates it more than she's able to put into words. "I'll put in the papers" he says.

'Sir' She says, tears staining her eyes but she's quick to push them away 'it has been an honor working here. This place will always have a special place in my heart.'

It's another three agonizing days before she gets pulled into Grey's office again. Three agonizing days of longing looks quiet hellos and a whole lot of silent tears.

"Lucy, I just heard back from the Hollywood division. They are thrilled to have a rock star officer as you on their team' she hears hem say the words and the emotion is written on his face 'if you still want to go.'

'I do. I need this, sir.'

'Then I guess this is your last shift at Mid-Wilshire. We sure as hell are going to miss you around here' and before she can say anything else she feels herself engulfed in the biggest hugs she has ever gotten from her sergeant and for once she lets herself ease into it completely. It's awkward but also very comforting at the same time.

'Thank you for everything, Sir.'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's not until she's clocked out that day that the reality and finality of it all hits her all at once. She doesn't know why but she finds herself walking towards his desk. He looks at her a little bewildered and he opens his mouth to speak but she hushes him 'Please don't say anything, just listen' and he nods. 'It has been an honor being part of your life, Tim. I hope you get everything you ever hoped for, and more. But for me, this is it. I need this.' She points between the two of them 'to not hurt so much. And the only way for me to do that is to leave.'

She sees the confusion on his face when she drops her badge and gun on his desk 'You are simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to me, Tim. And I love you, I will probably always love you, but this is destroying me, and I can't do it anymore.'

He is gripping her hand and before she manages to protest, he pushes her into an empty interrogation room 'What do you mean? What are you saying, Lucy?'

She gulps back the lump in her throat 'I just finished my last shift. I'm not coming back tomorrow' she all but whispers.

What? You can't just leave' he pleads, and she can see the turmoil written all over his face. For the first time in a month she lets herself look, really look, at him and she sees the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead that are a little more prominent than they were before, and she can see his big, beautiful eyes filled with tears. 'It's done, Tim.'

'Lucy' he manages to choke out but she's already out the door. She can't do this again, it's done. He was the one who broke her heart and when she eventually walks through the front door of the Mid- Wilshire department, she brings herself to look back one last time to the station and the person she left half of her heart with.

Yeah, it's completely and utterly clear that Lucy Chen will never be the same again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

So yeah, there you have it.. I just needed a place to put it and this was it..

#chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie #idiots in love #break up trope #why is Tim being such an idiot #chenford fanfic #the rookie fanfic

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sunflowernoodles · 4 months

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First Snow

I think my mha hyper fixation finally died off a little bit and I recently watched Stranger Things for the first time so I’m pretty into that right now. Also a few weeks ago I reached a year on tumblr, big thanks to all of you for making me feel welcome 💛 But like always, I hope you enjoy! 🌻

Lee: Steve

Ler: Eddie

Ships: Steddie

It was early December and it had gotten cold quickly. School had gotten out for winter break which meant Eddie and the kids were out. Didn’t mean too much for Steve. He got to see his boyfriend more often.

Steve didn’t like winter much. Didn’t like the cold or snow. So you can imagine his annoyance waking up one morning after staying the night at Eddie’s to find the half a foot of snow outside.

“Oh, great.” Steve groaned, as his only thought was how he had to drive home in this later. He laid back down, taking several seconds to realize that Eddie wasn’t there. Reluctantly, Steve left the warmth of the bed to go find his boyfriend.

He left Eddies room and to his surprise, Eddie was by the front door, slipping on a jacket and looking ready to trudge out in the snow. Eddie heard the floor shifting and looked over, smiling brightly when he saw Steve, “Good morning sleeping beauty.”

Steve responded with a groan as he approached. “Grumpy.” Eddie said quietly, but just loud enough for Steve to catch and glare at him.

“What are you even doing? You wanna go out in that?” Steve questioned his boyfriend, the grogginess from just waking up still present in his voice. In fact, everything about Steve said he would rather be in bed right now. The lidded eyes, messy hair, rumpled clothes.

Eddie just grinned. “Why not?” He shrugged, opening the door and making Steve shudder from the cold. “You wanna go with me?” Eddie asked, almost convincing Steve that this was something fun and not the frozen hell it was out there.

Eddie’s smile was met with sleepy eyes. “Suit yourself.” Eddie shrugged, not minding if Steve wanted to stay inside the warm trailer and go back to sleep. He went out, shutting the door behind him and leaving Steve standing there.

Steve quickly realized he felt incredibly uncomfortable standing in Eddie’s home without, well, Eddie. He groaned tiredly and went to put on his coat and shoes.

Upon getting outside, there was Eddie in front of the trailer, building a snowman. It was a little endearing. Once again, Eddie smiled when he saw his boyfriend.

“Stevie! You made it!” Eddie cheered, as if they weren’t only just in the same building mere minutes ago. Steve gave a tired smile as he sat on the front steps. He would leave the whole, playing in the snow to Eddie. And so Eddie continued with his slightly lopsided snowman.

Steve had managed to doze off a little, leaning against the railing of the steps while Eddie’s hands had turned to ice due to his lack of gloves. He was about to yell over to Steve about his minor predicament, but abruptly changed his mind when he saw him practically sleeping on the snowy front porch. Who was he to disrupt such a peaceful display of beauty?

Well… a little disturbance wouldn’t hurt. Eddie approached slowly, cringing when his footsteps would crunch especially loud from the snow. But eventually, he made his way over and sat beside Steve carefully.

Eddie looked him over a second, dark eyes landing on a small patch of skin, unprotected by Steve’s sweater and coat. He grinned to himself as he reached down, poking at the spot and watching Steve immediately jolt out of his small snooze with an undignified yelp.

Steve crossed his arms, looking at Eddie in confusion, “what?” He asked in confusion, a small flush on his face. Or perhaps he was just cold.

“My hands are cold.” Eddie said plainly with a deceptively innocent smile. Steve was confused to say the least. Or until Eddie raised his hands, wiggling his fingers menacingly.

“Oh, Stevie~” Eddie said in a singsongy voice. That was all it took to send Steve scrambling off the porch and back into the trailer. Eddie, of course, quickly followed.

Steve, however, stupidly cornered himself in Eddie’s room. It was just because he was tired, nothing else at all. Not because the threat of tickling made his brain short circuit, or that maybe he wanted Eddie to catch him just a little. Nope, not at all. Just a little sleepy. His stomach did flips when he saw Eddie turn the corner into the room.

“What’re you running from, pretty boy?” Eddie asked with a knowing grin. Steve shrugged, stumbling back onto the bed as he crossed his arms.

Steve watched Eddie nervously, but expectantly for a moment. He quickly averted his gaze when Eddie did approach though.

“Like I said, my hands are cold. I don’t know why you’re running away~” Eddie teased, slipping his hands under Steve’s sweater and pinching his sides with his icy fingers. Steve tensed and the plain expression he was fighting to keep on his face wavered slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling up a smidge.

Eddie grinned as he slowly pinched upwards, watching Steve squirm and slowly but surely fold in on himself. “Eheheddie.” Steve giggled, not sounding all that desperate to get Eddie off of him.

“Yes?” Eddie replied, reaching Steve’s ribs and rubbing the spaces in between. The snort that it ripped from Steve surprised Eddie, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of the cutest sounds he had ever heard.

Steve wasn’t moving much, except for the occasional jerk of his legs. “yohoure hahahands are cohold!” He continued giggling, flinching when Eddie quickly pinched his shoulder blades.

Eddie snickered at Steve’s giggles. “Thats all? Just cold? Thats all it is?~” he teased, leaning down next to Steve and kissing his ear. Steve just slowly fell to the side, Eddie following him down.

Usually, Steve was one to fight back, and usually, it was easy as he was a little bit stronger than Eddie. But not right now. Right now, Steve was tired and it was cold. He just wanted to melt into his boyfriend and enjoy the warmth of the affection.

Eddie noticed because, by now Steve had usually turned the tables on him. But this was fine. It was more than fine. He pulled Steve closer, blunt fingernails skimming over Steve’s sides and belly. Light giggles and occasional flirty comments from Eddie filled the room.

The two eventually fell asleep again for another hour or so. Maybe it wasn’t so bad when it was cold out, if this is what it entailed now. When Steve woke up later though, fully energized, Eddie was given a healthy dose of revenge.

#sfw tickles #steddie tickle fic #ler!eddie #lee!steve #them <3

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withacapitalp · 1 year

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Hidden Gem Friday

DID I FORGET ITS FRIDAY??? YEAH BUT MY LITTLE SISTER IS HERE SO UHHHHH Hey it's here!!! As always still taking prompts for this!!! The way I'm gonna do these now I think is the first rec above the read more and then the rest below! Hope you guys like that haha

In Eddie's Honour by literaldisneyprincess aka the amazing @maxinemaxmayfield !!!! Recced by me bc this fic is literally a treasure 5.8k- Steddie (Complete)

Summary:

Without thinking, he reaches down and slides his fingers over the indent made by the pen. Eddie must have pressed down harder than necessary, leaving a tactile mark as well as the visual one. Steve’s hit by the realisation that Eddie will never write his name again. Never write or draw, or even hold a pen again. Ever. For the first time in two weeks, he stops. He looks around his room, feeling lost, feeling alone and so achingly, horribly empty. - - - Steve struggles with the grief left behind after Eddie's death and how he can move past it without forgetting.

My Thoughts:

I WROTE AN ENTIRE THREE PARAGRAPH THOUGHTS AND THEN TUMBLR DELETED IT NAYHHH. Okay I'm going to try and recreate it. The thing that always gets me about Morgan's writing is the level of detail. It's not just writing like it becomes a whole experience? the font and the notebook page and all these little add ons that just sink you so deep into the story!!! My favorite scene has to be the tattoo scene I remember Morgan talking about this one with us and workshopping it and watching this story come to fruition was such an utter joy. it's on my short list of fics to read when I need a good grief moment haha

I'll feel the sickness less and less by softshr3k Recced by an anon 3.6k (Complete) - Platonic Stobin

Summary:

“What did they do to you?” she finally asks, her voice a whisper. Steve shuts his eyes, breathing in slowly. Everybody seems to want to ask him questions he doesn’t have the right answers to lately. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine, it’s over.” When he opens his eyes again he can tell she doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t ask again. Steve thinks he might love her for it. (or, the immediate aftermath of Starcourt, because Steve and Robin are traumatized and also platonic soulmates)

My thoughts:

Okay so I wrote a fic really similar to this one because I NEEDED more of early Stobin, and damn if this didn't hit that niche so perfectly!!!! Like ough I just Robin and Steve have such a lovely really complicated relationship. Both of them have no idea how love works, but they do love each other and it's real OMG I loveeeeeee they're so good! I also love the characterizations here. Steve and Robin still figuring out how this deep confusing real thing between them works ough I love them

staring into all man's plateglass, faces, questioning after who loves by TolkienGirl 1.2k Gen pre-Stoncy being friends (Complete) recced by me

Summary:

Jonathan quirks half a smile in her direction. “Do you want to be right, or do you want me to have lunch with you?” “Both,” Nancy says.

My Thoughts:

This one is like ough a Hershey kiss!! It's short and so so perfect. I love Jonathan POV stuff and this has such a good take on him and how he would feel barely knowing Steve but really wanting to know Nancy and having these emotions for her There's this amazing line in here about Jonathan 'seeing' Steve by being the empty house behind him in the photograph. How Steve is so desperate and hollow, but Jonathan because he's into Nancy sees that and sees it as a flaw of Steve instead of having sympathy for that and it's so OGUH it's amazing

I was open to pain and crossed by the rain by sparklyslug recced by @serpentinegraphite AND @daisiescorduroyandcoffee 20k (COMPLETE)- Gen Wayne and Eddie

Summary:

Little Eddie is born, and Wayne isn't there. Eddie is four. Is eight. Is thirteen. Is eighteen. Is twenty. And his uncle is there. His uncle is right there.

My Thoughts:

I LOVE A WAYNE AND EDDIE FIC AGH! Okay the Munson Lore!!! I love how every writer was like yeah yk what I must include some backstory here for Wayne and Eddie and we are all right LMAO god the scene with Eddie's shaved head it HURTS me like genuinely the way Wayne asks if its what he wants and its so good. IT's hard to explain like there's so so much going on in this fic and it's longer but it's this really well crafted one shot with hints I also adore the way Steve and Wayne develop a relationship here it's not a focus but it's always one of my fave thigns to see in fics!!!! Anyway it's great

#hidden gem friday #fic rec #steddie fic recs #steddie fic #stranger things fic rec #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #Jonathan byers #Nancy wheeler #stoncy fic rec #stoncy #the party #Wayne munson #wayne and eddie #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates steve and robin #Liam speaks up

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keicordelle · 1 month

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A First for Everything Chapter 11: A Watched Pot! Somewhere in my notes folder, there are eight (8) drafts of this chapter. Thancred just really did not want to express himself. Which, given the situation, is fairly in character, actually, I guess

Read it on Ao3 at the link above, or check out the first chapter on Tumblr here.

"Uri—" Urianger didn't so much as look back, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. His nightgown swirled around his ankles as he fled, his usually soft steps striking through Thancred’s ears like tolling thunder. Each step a finality.

Not half so final as the thud of the door as it closed behind him. Leaving Thancred staring at the space where he had just been, the heat of Urianger’s body still clinging to his sleep clothes. He could still taste him on his lips, sweet and tentative and new. Could feel the phantom touch of his hands through his hair, and his tongue coiling against his own.

Thancred touched his lips, still staring after Urianger. That had been... sweet. In all the hundreds of times he'd pictured kissing Urianger in the last few weeks, he could never have imagined how gentle he'd be. How eager. Even his wildest fantasies paled in comparison to the reality.

The tangled snarl of emotion that had replaced Thancred’s heart squeezed tighter as he heard the front door thunk closed. Fuck. "Haaa...." He sank down to sit on the end of the bed, head dropping to bury his face in his hands. Gods, he shouldn’t have done that. He should have waited until he was sure it was really what Urianger wanted. He'd let his own desires get away from him and let himself get swept up in the moment because he had wanted to kiss Urianger. He should have waited until Urianger was ready — until he was ready. Thal's balls, he wasn't sure he was prepared to handle the implications of what he'd just done. He'd kissed Urianger. His friend — maybe his best friend, and certainly one of his oldest. One of the few bright spots in the chaos and strife of this other world. And Thancred had just up and kissed him on a whim, knowing full well that Urianger wasn't the type to just up and ask for something like that. That alone should have been clue enough to slow things down, but no, he'd let his selfish desires get in the way and put their whole friendship on the line.

He should have expected he'd react badly. And yet... he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Urianger had responded. The way his hands hand curled into Thancred’s hair, and his lips had parted beneath his. The way Urianger had pushed into him, needy and hungry. The way he'd proved that he was just as good a student when it came to physical study as with literary. Thal's balls, that had been one hell of a kiss.

And despite everything, somehow Thancred couldn't find it in himself to regret it. It had been everything he had ever— No, it had been better than he could have imagined, tender and sweet in a way he... hadn't ever really experienced before. Thancred had kissed more people than he'd bothered to keep track of, and yet none had ever held him so gently, or melted so thoroughly into him. It had been awkward at first, but even that had been cute: the way Urianger had been stiff against him, unyielding and uncertain, and slowly opened up before him. The tentative way he'd responded, growing bolder and pressing forward. Gods, the sounds that he had made. A scene that would linger in Thancred’s memory for many days and many, many nights, he was sure.

Augh. He flopped back against the bed, dragging his hands roughly through his hair. Urianger’s scent still clung to the sheets, billowing up around him like some cruel and peculiar punishment. What was he supposed to do now? Should he chase him down? That stood a heavy chance of backfiring, he thought. Maybe all Urianger needed was some space, to put his thoughts in order. Or maybe he never wanted to see Thancred again, and he should gather his things and plan to move on with Minfilia before everything got too awkward to bear.

No... If Urianger needed some space, Thancred could give him some space. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to react if Urianger came back and wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened, but that was— a problem for another time. Thancred was good at lying, to himself as much as to others. He could pretend, if Urianger wanted to pretend. Probably.

Yeah, because you've been doing such a great job at that the past few weeks. He shoved aside the thought. With a groan, he hauled himself back up to a seated position. Wallowing here wasn't going to help anything.

His gaze snagged on the glittering pile of chains on the dresser across the bed, Urianger's robe folded neatly beside them. Twelve, please tell me he at least brought his astroglobe with him. If he were out there alone and at the mercy of whatever vicious fae creatures wished to take a bite out of him.... But no, surely even in the heat of the moment, he was smarter than that. No matter how distraught he was, he'd come back if he were at risk of running into trouble, right?

Right. Thancred was just looking for an excuse to go chase him down. With a frustrated groan, he gained his feet. Better to get dressed and find something to do with himself rather than sit here dwelling on it. Thinking about it was only going to make it worse.

It was amazing how many meaningless tasks you could find for yourself when you really really didn't want to think. The house had never been so clean: baseboards dusted, windows washed, books organized (he was sure he was going to hear about that one later, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time). Thancred’s muscles burned with the strain of a lengthy workout, and the scent of yeast clung to the inside of his nose as he punched down a bulbous ball of dough.

It was also amazing how much thinking you could do when you had nothing better to focus on than dust and soap. He couldn’t stop his mind from spinning, the world around him seeming at once too small and overly large. He had half a mind to go out for a run, just to escape these walls that seemed to press in on him from every side, but he feared that the second he set foot outside, his feet would take him to hunt down Urianger whether it was his intention or not. No. He would let Urianger come to him, as he’d resolved himself to do. He'd come back eventually. He had to. It was his house.

Minfilia lingered at the edges of his vision all day long, just close enough to grate on his nerves but far enough away that Thancred knew it wasn't warranted. Only once had she ventured closer, watching him timidly with those baleful blue eyes as she asked, "Is... everything alright, Mr. Thancred?"

"Everything's fine." A grunt as he drove his knuckles into the dough, digging into its soft flesh. It wasn't half so cathartic as it should have been.

"Oh..." Thancred thought she might be smart and drop it, but after a moment's hesitation she continued. "Where did Mr. Urianger go this morning?"

"Out."

Her hands wrung themselves in front of her, twisting the end of her skirt nervously. Thancred lifted his eyes to her face, and something in his gaze made her quail, shrinking back from him and edging towards the door. "Oh..." Her eyes dropped quickly to the floor.

He turned back to his dough, and the quick patter of her footsteps told him she'd fled the moment he looked away. Damn it, she hadn't deserved that. He'd have to apologize to her later. For once, his bad mood wasn't related to her in any way — though he couldn't help but wonder what his Minfilia would have to say about this situation if she were here. She'd always been good at advice, whether he wanted to hear it or not. Hells.

Instead, he punched his distress out into his dough, and waited for Urianger to come home.

[Chapter 12]

[Kofi/Commissions]

#ffxiv #thanuri #urithan #thancred #urianger #thancred waters #urianger augurelt #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #first for everything #~k

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tiamat-zx · 1 year

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2022 AO3 Wrapped

Tagged by @blorbologist (You asked for it, I might as well do it!)

And keep in mind, I might not be able to link to any of the stories, but I WILL post their titles so you can look them up.

AND BE WARNED. A lot of these fics contain spoilers.

Works published: 73 (And I intend to leave it at that, save some ideas for next year which is literally right around the corner.)

Word Count: 134,670. Not bad.

Bookmarks: 190. Wow.

Shortest Fic: “Necessity, the Mother of Invention” at a paltry 100 words, published 2022-03-10. It was just a little post-C2 Drabble where Beau gets to ask the Brenattos for a little bit of magic training. Just to expand her kit. Nothing big, just something nice and fluffy.

Longest Fic: “Traveler’s Eve”, published for the final day of Whumptober 2022 at a decent 6,600 words. Basically what it says on the tin: a revisiting of the events of the first half of C2’s Traveler Con episode, from Beau’s point of view. Namely, it’s her coming to a resolution regarding Jester and Yasha, along with her moments with Caleb and Fjord in said episode. Also, I had art commissioned for it that was done by “undeadharlequin” on IG, and now it’s my Tumblr banner. Thanks again, Jas!

Sadly it’s quite lacking in kudos… and more importantly in comments. Please go read it.

Gift Fics for Me: 7 this year. 6 by @warriorbard2012…

“Moonlight Possibilities”

“Say Goodbye to the Yesterdays that Owned Us”

“Nicodranas Family Vacation”

“The Surprise Party”

“Lone Wolf No More”

“The Second Time Around”

…and one by @jtr-99.

“Remnant”

Thanks again Mari and Jill! Back to the list!

Gift Fics for Others: Quite a few. Twenty-three in total.

“‘Cause it’ll never go away (Until the fear that you are runnin’ from is finally embraced, face to face)” for @january3693

“Ice Breaker to Remake Her” for @warriorbard2012

“What Could Have Been” for @idragonspyro

“Halfling Love” for @flyingraven

“Phantom Pain” for @ss117

“One Lucky Kitty” for @grayintogreen (Because she loves Cree so much)

“Taurs R Us” for @sylvanfreckles

“Nowhere To Go But Down” for @cole-lynid

“The Big Day(s)” for @jtr-99 @cole-lynid @warriorbard2012 @grayintogreen (My finale fic for Beauyasha Week 2022, and I just had to not only dedicate it to them, but also to make it a wedding fic!)

“A Memento” for @warriorbard2012 and @jtr-99 (Post-Iron Shepherds, going along with the now popular headcanon that Beau got her eye scar from Lorenzo and thus doesn’t want it healed and gone. So that she never forgets.)

“Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow (But Also Sweet Payback)” for @grayintogreen (Because Lucien. ‘Nuff said.)

“Cobalt Soul Searching” for @jtr-99 (Quite possibly one of the darkest fics I’ve written as it IS about that lingering trauma after Cognouza. Because there’s no way that Beau and Caleb didn’t get out of that mess without some PTSD. Also, it’s to address the fact that they never quite told the Soul about the eyes. This is about Beau finding the courage to open up about it.)

“Marigold” for @grayintogreen (Because she loves Jayne, and I had to do a fic with her in it.)

“Scientific Method” for humandisaster1313 and @grayintogreen (Okay… THIS one is VERY DARK. Very much hurt no comfort. And Whumptober 2022 gave me an outlet and a reason to finally write it. But THANKFULLY it’s balanced out by…)

“Treading Lightly” for humandisaster1313 (…a story about Veth being a badass on a boat.)

“‘I was flying past the stars on silver wings. It was wonderful.’” This one was for @ghostofwhitestone as another Whumptober fic, and sure enough, while the ending may be divergent NOW, it DOES tackle what poor Laudna was going through in limbo before Bells Hells sundered her free. And yes, the title is a reference to the novel “Matilda”. For obvious reasons.

“Reflection” for @jtr-99 @warriorbard2012 and @grayintogreen (I had never really done an “origin story for Dairon before. This was my opportunity to do so. Especially as a ‘first meeting’ between her and Yudala Fon, and how they would end up meeting Beau in Zadash on that fateful Sydenstar day in Trostenwald.)

“Chill Touch” for @svartalfhild (Yay, a fic about Ashton and Laudna and how she would be the sole exception to Ashton always feeling pain just from touch. Happens post-C3E38.)

“Family Resemblance” for humandisaster1313 (My final gift fic tied to Whumptober 2022. One in which mother and daughter team up to take down some ne’er-do-wells.)

“Forget-me-not” for @grayintogreen (Okay, this one’s a rather somber one because I wrote this on November 5th, to mark the 11th anniversary of the day my mother lost her life. As such, it’s a story of grief and mourning. And in this case, it’s Beau at Molly’s (empty) grave.)

“Mother Knows Best” for @warriorbard2012 (I will never stop loving “Worth Fighting For” from C2, and as such, I just had to write a story about the moment between Veth and Beau from the former’s POV, in which she decides to forego her usual trolling and do what mothers do: be supportive.)

“Like You’ve Seen A Ghost” for @blorbologist (Because Percy and Vex and all their trauma. Also Laudna’s.)

“Fresh Start” for @cole-lynid and @khalliys (This fic is twofold: it’s for Lynid’s birthday, and the ending came about due to Khal’s art of Beau being super casual and Yasha having a, well, justified reaction. It is also my most recent fic, and thus my last fic of 2022.)

PHEW! That’s all of them!

Collabs: Sadly no real collabs this year. I flew solo.

Events: Febuwhump 2022, Beauyasha Week 2022, and Whumptober 2022.

Most popular by kudos AND hits: Funnily enough, I have two.

The aforementioned “Phantom Pain” with 765 hits and 87 kudos.

“The Lion’s Snare” with 500 hits and 112 kudos.

Actually, I have a third, one that’s more consistent with a better kudos/hit balance: “The Dream or the Dreamer” with 595 hits and 103 kudos.

Most popular by comments: “Eyes on the Prize” with only 10 comments. (Of course, that could change before the end of the year.)

It’s honestly rather depressing because I feel like I’ve been getting less and less comments. It’s more kudos than anything else.

But I like reading feedback. It makes me smile knowing how much you liked it.

Hopefully I’ll see more feedback down the road.

Fic that made me smile: The aforementioned “The Second Time Around”. I’m looking forward to seeing how Mari ends that story. Also, there are so many other stories that made me smile this year, too many for me to list lol

Fic that made me cry: Aside from some of my own pieces… CURRENTLY I’m being emotionally compromised by @waltwhitmansbeard and her Vaxleth Medieval AU story “My Fair Lady”.

Also, what absolutely broke me early on in 2022 was Jill’s “Shadows of Rancor”. Because that one goes into some dark places… and there is death. They do get better, but… ouch. It hurt in the best way, and I eagerly await the next installment whenever that may be.

Okay… I think that does it! As for whom I’m tagging…

Well, aside from the ones I’ve already tagged, there’s also @viciousmollymaukery @professor-rye @pryingblackbird .

See you all in 2023!

#tag game #ao3 #ao3 wrapped

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kalisama · 1 year

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I’m Back

Hey all,

Sorry I completely ghosted tumblr. I’m not dead, it’s just been a rough couple of years. Feel free to read on if you’re curious.

I disappeared around the time our dog got cancer. He needed around the clock care for what we thought was going to be a period of recovery, but he continued to decline mentally until he just wasn’t with it anymore. My pets were my babies so that hit me pretty hard. Also found out I was pregnant a month before. There were some early complactions and I ended up on bed rest for a bit. Got carpel tunnel, ended up not being able to do much in the way of art for most of my pregnancy. And then we had a baby girl. And 2 months later the military moved us halfway across the country to a place with no housing available. 😅So we bought a house sight unseen. The day we moved in my dad called to tell me something was wrong with my mom. My mom was in and out of the emergency room multiple times in the following week before ending up in emergency surgery because she almost died, and my very beloved cat suddenly passed away that same week. All of these things completely overshadowed the fact that I was struggling with PPD. I kept saying I’d be better when there wasn’t so much stress. But I wasn’t. My anxiety was out of control and I wasn’t getting any sleep. And let me tell you, severe anxiety and sleep deprivation is not how you want to enter a global pandemic...My husband got deployed somewhere in there, and things were crap for a long while. Then, when I finally started to feel better my dad unexpectedly passed away…

It’s been a year and a half now since he’s been gone. Most of that time feels like a void. A year and a half of trying to hold my family together while being the solo care giver for my toddler. My mom was not functional for months. I took my daughter and went to live with her in Wisconsin until we could get her back up on her feet. It wasn’t a planned trip. We literally left home the morning after my dad passed, and didn’t return until 5 months later. My family will never be the same, I think everyone of us has had some mental health struggles this past year, but things are slowly getting better. I can see them adapting, evolving around the black hole of grief. Moving forward. In February I decided it was time to start making space for myself again. I’m working my way back to finding those things that I loved before my life became a blur of depression and child raising. My dad loved to see me creating art, and in his last couple of months he would often mention that he was concerned that I had given up on the things that brought me joy. I’ve come to the realization that honoring him doesn’t just mean trying to take care of everyone else’s needs and leaving no time for my own. It’s been a slow process. I’m taking some online art courses and doing art in my free time. Last month my husband gifted me an iPad which has been a total game changer as far as being able to get some creative time in while taking care of our 3 year old.

I sincerely hope to have more art to share with you all in the coming months. I’ll try to remember to update here. I had completely forgotten tumblr existed. I’m generally more active on FB because that’s how I stay connected to family members. My DA account is still open but not active. I don’t know if I want to return to posting there, but it will certainly remain the home for all my older work.

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xviruserrorx · 2 years

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Title: "A Life With No Regrets"

For day one of @heaven-ecologist Angel appreciation week! (Yes I'm behind on the prompts I know) Happy birthday, I don't know when your birthday is op but have a lovely birthday week!

Angels Week 2022 - Tumblr | Ao3

Fandom: Supernatural

Prompt(s): "Vessel"

Relationship(s): Alfie(/&)Samandriel (can be read both ways)

Rating: Gen

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 2,919

"I have them; my family, the others… and you."

His chest tightened. "And me," he confirmed.

"In a way, it was you or my father." Samandriel furrowed his eyebrows, "I suppose I made my choice."

"Do you regret your choice?" The words left his mouth before he registered what had came out.

Continue reading below or over on Ao3

(Other Works) (Fic Requests)

The bag crumpled in Alfie's hand as he handed it off. "Thank you, come again."

He received a smile as the customer left. The bell rang and lingered in the silence of the empty restaurant. It had been a slow day, a few customers coming in every so often but never enough to get near to overwhelming him.

Though, the smile he had greeted and said goodbye to the customer with, had stayed plastered on his face. He had woken up happier than ever and the feeling was a reminiscence of the day. Maybe it was because he had learned that the apocalypse—which was a possible factor that could happen to the world—was indeed not going to happen.

Samandriel had told him the news with nothing but utter excitement and content of words that his family was finally okay again.

Yet despite the end of what the angel had originally asked his permission to take Alfie's body. He never left. Well… granted, he did have to leave for some periods of time to return to heaven with his siblings. He knew Samandriel didn't have to come back, nor did he expect him to, he was one of the protectors of the souls in heaven after all. And yet, Alfie found himself saying yes time and time again whenever he came back to earth.

He enjoyed his presence and that made him happy, maybe it made Samandriel just as happy too. But his smile that refused to leave his face as he worked his shift wasn't from all these thoughts. And while they did have an influence, they weren't the leading cause.

The cause was maybe half due to the fact that no one could see the angel spinning on a chair behind the counter. Alfie tried to say that it was the former reason, and yet, his smile only grew as he continued to watch his friend spin himself in dizzying circles.

The sight made it hard to talk and continue his job with a straight face so he didn't try to fight it. Taking the compliments he had received from the customers and co-workers about how happy he was. He couldn't exactly tell them that an angel of the lord named Samandriel was entertained with the spinning chair in the corner without sounding insane.

He cleared his throat through the silence hoping to grab Samadriel's attention, only the angel kept spinning. A part of him worried that he was going to make himself sick and throw up. Though he had seen the angel go through worse and decided not to worry too much.

An airy chuckle escaped his mouth as he shook his head and grabbed for a rag to clean the counters with. "Are you having fun?" He lightly teased.

Samandriel's eyes met his as he stopped spinning. His eyebrows furrowed down in thought before he nodded his head. "I believe so."

Alfie opened his mouth but the sound of Samandriel's feet leaving the floor and the chair once again spinning interrupted what he was going to say. He chuckled. "An angel of the lord entertained by a spinning chair," he commented more to himself than Samandriel. "Who knew."

"My brothers say we are no longer my father's angels."

"What, are you Charlie's angels now?" He joked.

Samandriel's spinning stopped as a confused look graced his face before he answered. "I am not related to Charlie Bradbury, although she is kind."

"That's… uh." He shook his head, he didn't have the heart.

The corner of Samandriel's lips twitched before he broke out into a wide grin. "I'm kidding."

He scoffed, "very funny."

"You seem to have a vast knowledge about those things, especially—"

"Okay! You can scooch on out of my brain now."

His grin just grew wider as Alfie felt his face grow warm. Sharing headspace with an angel was not ideal. He sighed, "So how does that whole no ruler of the universe thing work anyway?" He asked before Samandriel could start spinning again. He briefly peaked up from wiping the counter as a confused look was sent his way.

"I mean no lord—god," he explained, "that can't be good, right?"

Samandriel shrugged his shoulders, swaying the chair lightly. "It has been this way for thousands of years, my older siblings always took charge. This universe was run by them, the demons in hell and other deities while my father played human," he supplied. "The only difference now is he's…"

Alfie grimaced. He had been there multiple times to witness first hand the dysfunctionality that was Samandriel's family. The small spats and sibling arguments that rivaled any he had ever seen. What little he could see of it was overwhelming, and yet he knew it was worse for Samandriel. Older brothers that squabbled constantly only for the rest to sit back, helpless and watch it all unravel.

"I'm sorry, Sammie," he softly muttered.

Samandriel raised his head with a gentle smile and shook his head. "I like this—now. Even if it means my father is gone. My siblings are finally together with love again, how it once was." His voice grew softer as his smile grew fonder. "I have them; my family, the others… and you."

His chest tightened. A gasp of breath in the new air and unwalked ground. The all too hopeful gaze directed towards him was held as a smile climbed on his face. "And me," he confirmed.

"In a way, it was you or my father." Samandriel furrowed his eyebrows, "I suppose I made my choice."

"Do you regret your choice?" The words left his mouth before he registered what had slipped out.

Samandriel didn't answer quickly or appeared to be in deep thought. He blinked as the question that ghosted through the air, left to be like an annoying itch instead of something head-on.

Guilt started to claw at Alfie, he wanted to rip back his words as quickly as he said them. The somber expression on the angel's face made it all the worse as they both sat in silence.

In a way, he wanted to know. That if Samandriel had another chance, would he choose humanity again or his father? The selfish manner or thought that was there lingered. He wanted confirmation for his own mind and heart that he—humanity would be chosen again. And yet, in the same breath, he didn't want to hear the truth if it wasn't that. He wanted a lie in its most concealing form and the truth to be hidden away no matter how bright it shined.

"I—"

"Samandriel…" he interrupted before he could finish his thought on what he was to say. He couldn't hear it, he couldn't bear the thought of it.

The word left with one breath and he gasped for another as those same eyes met his. He watched him with intent and whole trust surrounded by a world with familiarity of puzzle pieces missing and growing unknown feelings just as peculiar.

He watched as Samandriel's expression changed, thought to a sudden worry as he cocked his head. A misunderstanding or confusion that Alfie could say was plausible. Be it the interruption and tone of his voice, or simply the use of the angel's full name that many—including himself—had deemed a mouthful. He too had his own confusions when it came to others and feelings.

He shifted as he directed his gaze anywhere but the angel. "You don't—"

"Alfie!"

He jumped at his boss's voice, fumbling with the rag in his hand as she walked in sporting a kind smile.

"How's everything going?"

"Oh, um… slow day." He smiled and gave a pointed look around the empty restaurant.

"It is," she acknowledged. "How much longer is your shift?"

"Umm…" he felt his clothes for his phone before remembering it was in the break room.

"Twenty-eight minutes and thirty-three seconds," Samandriel supplied.

"What he s—" he quickly faked a cough covering up his mistake of acknowledging the angel that no one else could see.

She shot him a confused look. "What?"

"Twenty-eight minutes! I said—Uh," he cleared his throat, "twenty-eight minutes."

"Right…" she said warily, "Why don't you take the rest of your shift off, I doubt any more people will be coming by anytime soon."

"Yes, uh, Thank you," he smiled as she turned and left.

He let out a breath he was holding. "That was a close one." He walked past Samandriel and disposed of the rag, their previous conversation left unfinished. "We should get out of here before someone else thinks I'm talking to myself."

The cap on his head was the first to go as he made his way to the break room. He grabbed his bag as he started to remove his uniform. Well… almost. His hands froze as he turned and came face to face with Samandriel. "Uh… Sammie?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting," he replied simply.

"I'm uh, y'know… gonna change."

Samandriel just blinked.

He sighed. "Just…" he grabbed him and faced him towards the wall. "Stay like that till I say to turn around 'kay?"

His head bounced lightly from where he faced the wall.

Alfie found himself with a fond smile on his face for the umpteenth time that day as he reached for his bag and grabbed the extra change of clothes he kept in there. "Us humans tend to enjoy our privacy," he commented, kicking off his shoes.

"We angels are private about things as well."

"Really?" His tone bordered on incredulous. "You guys aren't exactly embarrassed when it comes to nudity." He had learned that one the hard way.

"Our wings are rather private to us."

"I saw yours that once." And he would never forget the sight. At the end of everything when they were all at peace from the constant war and the angels finally were to return to heaven for the first time together. With one small snap, the wings they all had heard the fluttering of so many times before were visible.

He had gasped at the sight. The colours and sizes all varied from Michael's ash grey wings that triumphed over all his siblings, down to Samandriel's small soft cream coloured wings. It had taken everything in him to not reach out and touch.

Samandriel's head dropped as he shifted a bit in place. "It's a rare occasion for… certain people when we allow them to be visible to the human eye."

"Oh…" he pulled his arms through his shirt and started working on the buttons. "Do they actually look how you showed them to me?"

"What you saw is the manifestation of my grace suitable to not burn your eyes out."

"Right, true form, not suitable for human eyes."

"Not suitable for earth in general," Samandriel stated. "My brothers told me that after the incident with the dinosaurs."

He stopped on the last button at the top as the comment sunk in. "Wait, wait, wait…" he grabbed Samandriel's shoulder and flipped the angel around to face him. "Your brothers killed the dinosaurs?!"

"Michael says that it was our baby brother's fault but Gabriel always argued otherwise"

"What does he say happen to them?"

Samandriel shrugged, "never said."

He scoffed in disbelief. This is what his life had come to. "Can't ever have nice things huh?"

"With my many siblings?" He shook his head, "No."

"Well, come on." He bumped his shoulder and grabbed his bag. "At least we can have some nice things."

"What things?"

"A lot of things," he replied. "Or more importantly Ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"Mhm," He hummed. "Best invention since pizza."

Samandriel smiled at him. "I've had neither."

"You can't be serious?"

"The times I've been on earth have all been for a reason. I mostly always stayed in heaven; guarded the souls."

Alfie grimaced. Every time the angel spoke about his purpose in the past, he only ever mentioned being the guardian of the souls. As if that was the one and only purpose he served. "Still," he argued, "I can't believe you've never had ice cream before?"

"I don't require food to live."

"Ice cream is not a requirement for life. Although some people would say otherwise—but forget that. Come on." He grabbed Samandriel's hand and dragged him out the door.

The once bright sun was dimmed in a hued ombre of colours. He knew he was going to regret the baby blue button-up and shorts he had changed into very soon by the rate the sun was disappearing at.

"Where are we going?"

A slight tug on his hand had him stuttering in his steps. He halted and turned back around. "We have to show you the wonders of ice cream, Sammie." With another tug, the angel was steadily following him as he made his way around the corner and to a nearby ice cream vendor.

He dropped Samandriel's hand as he ordered and accepted the two vanilla cones before handing one to him.

"Cheers." He bumped the cones together before digging into his own.

Samandriel gave it a peculiar look before he too started to eat it.

"Do you like it?" He asked as he watched the angel's face for any indication.

"Most things taste like molecules."

"Are ice cream molecules any good at least?"

"They're… different."

"Sweet?"

"Sweet," Samandriel repeated with a small nod, "like comfort."

"They call it comfort food for a reason."

"I can see why." He took another lick of the melting ice cream.

Alfie chuckled, "I'll take that as a yes then." Despite having something to concentrate on, he kept his gaze up. Time to pass that his eyes followed Samandriel's movements. The childish gleam as he lapped up the melting sugary treat.

Alfie's own getting less attention and dripping to the napkin around the cone. He looked away from the still unsuspecting eyes as he licked the sticky sweetness from the edges of his fingers and the aftermath of the heat.

His heart beat heavily as he took a deep breath. The presence next to him demanded his attention and he could only ignore it for so long. A constant pain that left throbbing and bruising from where its impression first was. Something that only time would change and yet each second agony with a tied tongue.

A loud crunch brought his attention back to Samandriel. A small edge of the cone was gone from his ice cream, yet the evidence remained on the corner of his mouth.

Alfie lightly chuckled. "You have…" he gestured to the corner of his mouth.

Samandriel tilted his head.

"Here." He grabbed one of the clean napkins and closed the distance between them, wiping away the bit of ice cream on the corner of Samandriel's mouth.

"There you go…" his hand moved away but the rest of his body didn't. The small distance seemed to be almost smaller as he met Samandriel's eyes, dancing across his expression for something—anything to grasp onto.

Samandriel quickly dropped his head from his gaze, staring down at the melting ice cream between them. "I don't; so you know," he said in nothing more than a whisper. "I don't regret my choice."

Alfie swallowed, he knew the conversation would come back around. "You chose humanity?" He still couldn't comprehend why. It had been more than his brothers and sisters, it was more than the people they had met. More than humanity.

"I chose people who love and care about me rather than an absent father I'd never met." His tone didn't falter as his words spilled from his mouth like a command. "There are many things to regret when you've lived as long as I have, but this is not one of them." He raised his head and allowed their eyes to meet. "I'd make the same choice a thousand times more."

His words echoed on the edge of devotion. A choice of right and wrong that only played at the end of the story. If mistake was the aftertaste to choice, Alfie wondered how his words would change.

Yet when all was said and done, Samandriel had already made his choice. And truth be told, Alfie has chosen his as well. All those yes's that he gave without a second thought could have very well been the opposite. No hesitation for the angel's wanted return despite all the situations he knew were inevitable.

"Then," Alfie slightly raised his ice cream, "to no regrets?"

He smiled. "No regrets," he repeated.

Alfie hurriedly finished his ice cream, disposing of their napkins as they walked aimlessly. A chill coursed his body, making him shove his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "It's getting dark."

"Home," Samandriel said. It wasn't a question so much a statement from the angel.

"So I'm walking you to a sandbox?" He questioned. "Not exactly too romantic if I have to say, and I've been on some pretty bad dates."

Samandriel scoffed at him. "No… I mean home." He held out his hand, palm up as if waiting for it to be taken.

Alfie looked down at the gesture, fingers twitching for the warmth that had escaped too soon. A free invitation on a dare mixed with the unsaid truth they both knew laid dormant. An unacting tease as the question really was: how long?

He obliged. The vice grip from earlier melted into their shared warmth as he carefully laced their fingers together.

"Home?" He asked for confirmation.

Samandriel smiled, "home."

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #angelsweek2022 #spn alfie #samandriel #heavens most adorable angel #samandriel x alfie #virusfanfic #i forgot how to tag my fanfics on here #oh yeah hi!#i'm back baby!!!#a month (two months actually) without uploading she comes back with a fic!#did i just make that referance? yes... yes i did #weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee #also yes it's a spn fic my childhood is coming back to haunt me #let me get it out of my system then i'll be back to my regular (ppfft regular yea right me) scheduled fics #alfieandriel

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