if there’s one thing im gonna do it’s wait for a bus

Ephemeral: Chapter 01

Old Hiking Place

*.☽.*

THREE TWENTY-FIVE.

It was a perfect, late summer afternoon.

I was leisurely riding my bike on the outskirts of the town while admiring the trees that stood on either side of the road that served as the entrance to the woods. Since the road was empty of other vehicles and also due to my confident balancing skills, I closed my eyes as I pedaled. While I did this, I could feel the cool breeze brushing my face, the friendly little wind making my hair dance along with it. I love moments like this.

I was in my mom's hometown and couldn't help but fall in love with it. This was where she grew up and I had a lot of memories here as a child. However, when I turned fifteen, my father's job was relocated to Australia. Our family composed of my dad, mom, and an older sister, moved there.

I resumed and finished my studies in Australia. I took up Interior Design and immediately landed a good job. However, after a couple of years, I decided to quit telling my parents that everything was a bit too fast for me. I didn't have enough time to even take a good, deep breath and I somehow knew that if I didn't do this now, I wouldn't have the chance to enjoy my life anymore. I told my parents that I wanted to take a break and go back to South Korea in the meantime. They didn't like the idea of course but I was able to save quite enough and made sure that I wouldn't even bother asking them for help. Well, edit the drama out, they eventually allowed their youngest daughter.

That's why at twenty-eight, I was finally back at my favorite place in South Korea. It had been three months since I came back and I couldn't ask for anything else. It's your typical Korean countryside. Unlike the frenzy-filled cities, I just love how it was so quiet down here and how less crowded the public places were. The people were quite approachable too.

I lived with Aunt Sunny and her husband Uncle Jin Woo with their thirteen-year-old, middle schooler daughter, Jihye. Aunt Sunny's my mom's younger sister and the one managing a flower shop called Areumdaun which was passed down to her by my grandmother. The flower shop had been here for about thirty-five years and being in a small town, it's quite famous around here. Uncle Jin Woo's a famous mechanic in town who ran his shop as well. He's a quiet type but kind nonetheless. My cousin Ji Hye's your cute, typical teenager. She's sweet and smart.

I liked staying and spending time with them. They treat me like I was truly a part of their family. I also enjoy helping my aunt out at the flower shop. However, from time to time like right now, I ask for her permission to go to the old hiking place which was thirty-five minutes away from the town center. Well, it was obvious that she was hesitant to allow me at first, probably afraid that I might get lost or something. Assuring her that I would be careful, she eventually gave in.

*.☽.*

I stopped cycling when I saw the familiar trail on the right side of the isolated road. There was a small cleared area that served as the entrance to what it used to be. On the left side was old signage with faded, unreadable letters that I didn't bother figuring out anymore. I climbed down my bike as I walked entering the forest. Since I was prepared for the hike, I just wore a comfortable loose, white T-shirt paired with jeans and black sneakers.

It was my fourth time coming here since I arrived. I remembered my mom taking me and my sister here for a hike when we were young. I thought I remembered everything perfectly but then was proven wrong when it took me about two hours and a half to get to the place the first time I got here. Of course, I blamed it on my direction-challenged self which I intentionally hid from my aunt. The place changed a lot and I hardly recognized it. The trails were not that neat anymore but they were still there. I needed them to be visible or else I'd get lost every time.

*.☽.*

I followed the trails for about twenty minutes and since it was a little bit uphill now, my bike started to trouble me. I decided to leave it where I normally left it, next to this particular tree.

"Wait for me here, hm?" I told my bike as I took my phone out. I put my playlist and earphones on before I continued hiking.

I looked around and all I could see are the tall trees. Since it was late summer, the leaves would change soon and I couldn't wait for it. I imagined the mountains looking perfect, all dressed in autumn colors. About another twenty minutes later, I could finally see my favorite spot from where I stood. I just needed to hike a little more to have access to its breathtaking view. As expected, I was catching my breath when I reached the top as I took in the familiar view that I came here for.

I was on top of the mountain. It was a flattened area that was surrounded by rock formations. The mountain was not that high unlike the others but it was high enough to serve a wonderful view of the town. A few meters away from the edge was a big tree. It stood alone and majestic on the right side where it was situated perfectly in my opinion. There were about four big rocks scattered all over the place that probably used to serve as seats for the hikers. Right next to my left was a giant rock formation that was blocking my view of the other side of the area.

I was about to step further when I suddenly noticed something different. I heard movements, which I found odd. I was used to being up here all alone since not a lot of people knew or maybe had forgotten about this place already. I had this weird feeling that there was someone else here or could it be something else? Holding my breath, I remained glued to where I was standing as I grew wary of my surroundings. I started to feel scared, imagining some grizzly bear ready to attack me. Then I finally saw someone emerge from the other part of the giant rock formation.

It was a man.

My heart almost skipped a beat. Honestly, I wasn't certain if I was relieved to see a man instead of a wild animal. Biting my lower lip, I automatically made a few steps back. I watched him as he walked towards the edge. I couldn't see his face because of the distance between us but from where I stood, he appeared to be lean, tall but not towering. He was wearing a navy blue jacket, which I instantly didn't approve of because it was still a little bit hot, a pair of blue jeans, and some decent sneakers. He also had a black bucket hat on making it impossible for me to get a glance at his face.

He paused when he was about a few feet away from the edge. For some reason, I grew anxious as I watched him step forward once more. I also suddenly felt like an intruder. Like, I wasn't supposed to be here, my eyes watching his every move. A small gasp escaped my mouth when I realized what he was about to do.

"Oh god...no. Is he jumping?" I muttered unconsciously rattling.

I watched how he lifted his hands sideways as he spread them as if he was indeed ready to jump. No no no, I need to do something, I need to stop him. I can't witness someone's death like this. Panicking, I looked around to find something that could be of help but there was none. I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans as I forced my brain to come up with something. There were small rocks but it would be awkward if I threw rocks at him, right? I was starting to get scared. I couldn't stand the sight of someone jumping off the cliff. I bit my lower lip and momentarily closed my eyes as I continued to think hard. Nothing, I exhaled sharply. My attention was glued to the slight movement of his feet. Feeling like there was absolutely nothing else that I could do, I shouted.

"Hey!" I don't know how loud it was since I still had my earphones on. He must have heard me though because the next thing, he turned around and looked my way. Two seconds, there were about two seconds of silence between us as facing each other. However, due to his black bucket hat, there was no way I could tell if he was alarmed or what. Though, I must have caught him off guard. He froze. Then, without having any second thoughts, I started to run to him. When I was a few feet away from him, he stretched an arm toward me as if trying to signal me to stop. I ignored him, I wouldn't let him distract me. I even refused to look away for one bit, scared that he'd jump off immediately. He seemed to panic as I ran closer to him. He made a few steps back, seemingly unaware of how close he was to the edge. My breath hitched as I ran faster. The next second later, I saw how he made another move backward, making him lose his balance. Oh god, he's going to fall. I swear, I almost had a mini heart attack.

"NO!" I yelled as I stretched my hand to desperately reach for his.

Thank heavens.

Fortunately, I was able to grab him by the hand. Then, used every ounce of energy I had to pull him back up. Maybe it was an adrenaline rush or something that I was able to carry his whole weight by grabbing him back. However, it must have been too much as I ended up dragging us both to the ground. I was already anticipating my body to land on the ground if not for his fast reflex. He unexpectedly spun me around, so his body hit the ground first instead. I ended up landing on top of him, my face instantly crashed against his neck. I felt my forehead touching something soft which I immediately assumed to be his lips. I could also feel my detached earphones between our bodies which also kind of hurt. A few seconds later while I still had my eyes closed, I heard him groan under me. That must've hurt. I thought for a moment before the realization that I was on top of him hit me. My body automatically jerked as I tried to get up when I accidentally hit him somewhere down his lower body, causing him to his in pain.

"Oh my god," I uttered. My brain both lagged for a second. "I'm s-sorry. I d-didn't mean...to..." I stuttered, apologizing. I watched him and my eyes grew wide realizing where I hit him. My face grew warm and the urge to cover my face was strong. Setting my embarrassment aside, I bent my knees next to him. Oh god, of all the parts of his body...I just had to kick... Not knowing what to do exactly, I felt helpless. I couldn't even touch him because that felt so wrong in so many ways after what I had just done. I sighed, biting my lip as I grew more anxious. I saw how his body curled as he obviously suffered from my unintentional act. My attention traveled to his hands that were in between his legs. I was about to open my mouth and apologize once more when he finally spoke.

"ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?" He growled, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"No," I held my breath. "I w-was trying to save you...actually," I replied stuttering, still shocked due to the volume of his voice.

"Save me from what?!" He yelled once more as he suddenly sat up, his eyes piercing through mine.

We were suddenly face to face and I had to hold my breath for the nth time.

This time his hat was taken off and I had full access to his face.

"OH, MY GOD!" I gasped, my hand covering my mouth. *.☽.*

𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 || niki lauda x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: niki takes only very calculated risks, except when you’re around to show him how to have a bit more fun.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: about 3k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: smut (semi-public sex, rough-ish sex, road head, very slight dubcon but really just mild hesitance), a touch of degradation (but it comes from a place of love I promise), spanking (briefly), established relationship, niki being massively introverted and slightly rude (but like, same)

[gif is mine, which explains why it looks so bad]

“How long do we have to stay here?” Niki mumbled into your ear, making you roll your eyes.

“We’ve only just arrived,” you reminded him.  “It’s a lovely afternoon, it’s a beautiful property, and I want you to meet my friends.”

“I know, I’m not trying to suggest we leave too quickly, I just want to know how much dull conversation I’m in for.”

You shoved his shoulder, only as hard as you thought you could without disturbing the flute of champagne in his hand.  “I hope nobody hears you talking that way.”

Before he could respond, the owner of the aforementioned beautiful property stepped up and extended his hand to Niki warmly.  “You must be the elusive Nikolaus we’ve heard so much about!”

“Just Niki is fine, thank you,” he returned with a firm shake and a polite smile.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

The small talk went on that way for a while, with Niki just barely managing to come across as socially acceptable and thankfully staying away from too much racing talk (even when other guests tried to egg him on for more details about it).

That was one of the many interesting things about your boyfriend: it wasn’t that he lacked any social intelligence, in fact he had more than most crowds he was in put together, it was just that he didn’t really seem to mind if people saw him as a bit cold or standoffish.  He could be incredibly charming, after all he had charmed you quite easily, but he preferred to be brutally honest.  All was well so long as honesty and politeness didn’t interfere.

After a few conversations where you clung to his arm and laughed at all his jokes, you could see him becoming visibly tired of it all; he ran his fingers through his sandy-blonde curls more often, he began to toy with the button of his blazer, all signs of subtle irritation that only you would pick up on.  It made you realize you should find a way to excuse the two of you for a moment, to give him a break.

“Say, Niki, would you like to take a walk in the vineyard?” you offered, hoping your friends would pick up on the signal not to invite themselves along.

“Yes, schatz, that would be lovely,” he nodded, and as the two of you quickly waved goodbye to those you had been conversing with, he grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“What do you think of them?” you prompted when you were far enough away from everyone else that you knew he wouldn’t be heard.

“They have a lot of questions,” he mumbled exhaustedly, making you laugh.

“They want to get to know you better!  I’ve been subjecting them to hours of going on and on about you, no wonder they’re excited to finally hear it straight from the man himself,” you explained.  

“I imagine they’re rather disappointed,” he smirked.

“Niki, of course they’re not!” you gasped.  “In fact, I bet they’re pleasantly surprised considering I told them so many awful things about you.”

He laughed lightly, looking down at the ground, and you walked around in front of him to grab the lapel of his blazer and pull him closer.  As he leaned in for a kiss, you kept leaning back with a smirk, making him chase you.  It didn’t last long, of course, his patience running thin until he grabbed your face and crashed his lips against yours.  You melted into it, moaning softly when his tongue traced over your lips and finally slipped into your mouth.

It was you chasing him when he pulled back, already totally lost in him and ready to ditch the party just to kiss him for an hour.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that,” he decided, looking at you with half-lidded eyes and lips that were a bit pinker than usual as well as fallen slack.

“You shouldn’t kiss me so good after I tease you like that, and I’ll have no reason to,” you countered.

When you turned around you realized you were approaching the driveway where you’d parked in the first place, and Niki immediately stepped up to the car.  “Let’s take a drive,” he suggested, but it didn’t quite feel like a suggestion when he was already opening your door for you and ushering you in.

“Wh— really?” you questioned, but you were already in your seat and he had shut the door behind you, circling the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat.  “Where are we going to go?” you asked when he got behind the wheel and turned the key.

“Just around, we’ll be back soon,” he shrugged, and you decided not to question it anymore; clearly, this was his best way to clear his head, and you were just happy he wanted you to come with him.

He took the car out of the driveway and started a journey down the road; you looked out the window at the scenery rolling by, and realized this was probably as good a way as any to show him the vineyard like you promised.  But, when you looked back at him where he was stoically staring out, steering through the twists and turns of the countryside road like it was second nature, you decided it was a better view than the scenery outside.

When you reached up to turn on the radio, he quickly smacked your hand— lightly, but enough to make you frown.  “Hey!” you defended, returning your hand to your lap.

“I prefer not to have music on when I drive,” he explained.  “It distracts me.”

You snorted out a laugh.  “You’re one of the best drivers alive, I figured you can manage a few distractions.”

“I can,” he countered, and you were a bit surprised that he didn’t challenge the qualifier of one of the best drivers alive.   “I just mean that the sound of the car is more entertaining to me than music.”

That answer sounded a lot more like the Niki you knew, and you smiled as you laid back against the passenger seat.  “You have a funny idea of entertainment, Niki,” you informed him.

“I know,” he nodded.

Glancing over at him, admiring his profile as he stared down at the road ahead, your lip caught in your teeth as you had a really, really bad idea.  “So you can drive with distractions?”

“If I need to,” he shrugged.

��Then maybe we can both get some entertainment,” you purred, sitting up and starting to lean closer to him.

“Schatz, what are you doing?” he stammered slightly, watching you with wide eyes as you reached to his belt, opening it quickly and already unzipping his fly.

“Shh, focus on the road Niki,” you winked, pulling his cock from his trousers and grinning at the way he gasped slightly.  It wasn’t quite hard yet, but it was growing quickly in your grasp, and a few kitten licks over the tip certainly helped him along.

“F-fuck,” he whispered above you, and you fought your smile as you wrapped your lips around him.  “Fuck.”

You hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head, moaning a bit just from the taste of a drop of precum forming at his slit and smearing on your tongue.

“Wait, this— this is dangerous,” he breathed, and you kept stroking while you pulled off to reply.

“Shouldn’t be if you drive steady.”

“I can do that,” he nodded.  “I think…”

You got back to it before he could start worrying again.  The poor guy was always thinking, constantly assessing and analyzing everything, and it honestly sounded fucking exhausting.  Sometimes you thought sucking him off was the only way to really get him out of his head, and considering the way his body relaxed under your touch and he let out a soft sigh, this was one of those times.

“Baby,” he moaned lowly as your lips met the base of his cock, and although you were certainly partial to the petnames in his native tongue, you really didn’t mind the way he called you ‘baby’ either.  It made you want to keep him buried in your throat forever, but sadly you could only go so long without breathing.

So, instead, you just found a pattern you were happy with of sucking the head and stroking the rest.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed, reaching down with one hand to hold the back of your head, guiding your movements.

You had to be careful not to block the gear shift when you were bent over like this, which was a bit uncomfortable but ultimately so worth it when he shifted gears quickly while you were still bobbing your head over his length.  Now you understood why he liked to hear the car… because now you could feel the car, feel the engine’s thrum as it reverberated through the steel and over your body.  It was actually a bit erotic, now that you thought about it; but then again, everything seems erotic when you’re as turned on as you were in the moment, your body crying out for more than it would have a chance to get any time soon.

He shifted gears again, taking the car around a tight turn, and you held onto his thighs tightly to keep from moving too much.  Thankfully he kept his promise to drive steady and it was pretty easy to keep your pace, even to speed it up as you hoped he would come down your throat without ever stopping the car or even slowing down.

The way he hissed in a sharp breath and grabbed your hair, accidentally pulling it (which you certainly didn't mind), made you think it wasn't so far off.

"God, you're a devil with that tongue, schatz," he groaned.  "Your mouth is so fucking sweet, you'll make me come."

You hoped your little hum around him made it clear that that was exactly what you wanted.

"You'll swallow it all, yes?" he pressed.  "You're not going to let any mess get on my beautiful leather seats, are you?"

You hummed again, sucking harder, and he moaned a bit louder.

"Fuck, j-just like that," he sighed.  "Don't— ah— don't stop, schatz, I'm close."

As if you would stop when all you could think about was the taste of him, how badly you wanted it to coat your tongue.  Already you could feel his cock starting to flex against your tongue and you doubled your efforts to bring him to the edge.  Normally you didn’t get a chance to hear his little moans and sighs because you were too busy making your own, so with your mouth full you could appreciate the sounds he made just for you.

It was only a stuttered gasp that signaled his release, just before ropes of warm come started to hit the back of your throat.  You narrowly avoided gagging from the way his hand pushed you down and held you there, but you moaned around him at the taste.  Your channel was throbbing, clearly annoyed that he was coming anywhere else.

Niki whispered your name, nearly choked on it, and let go as the pulses began to die down and he let out a long, sharp breath.  But you weren’t quite done; you kept moving for a few moments, slowly, making sure to have every drop in your mouth before you finally pulled off and swallowed; you noticed a spare drop of come rolling down his shaft and stuck your tongue out to lick it up in a quick swipe while he noticeably tensed beneath you.

He spared a glance at you as you sat up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and you didn’t miss the shocked, yet exhausted, look on his face.  "Satisfied?" you asked with a proud grin.

"Not quite," he answered in a growl, pulling the car to the side of the road and parking it quickly.  "Get out and bend over the hood."

"Niki, what if someone—?"

"I think I made myself clear, get out and bend over the hood, schatz."

The petname had a lot more venom to it when he said it like that, with a cold sneer on his lips, and that likely should’ve deterred you but it only stoked the flame of need burning in your gut, and you nodded meekly before opening your door and getting out of the car.  He followed you as you bent over, placing his body behind your as he pulled your dress up and your panties down.

Right away he swiped two fingers through your folds and you shuddered.  "Dripping wet," he observed with a smirk.  "Do you like having my cock in your mouth that much?"

You nodded, trying to rock your hips for more friction.

"This pussy must have been so lonely,” he realized.  “Want me to fill you up, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you breathed, but even you didn’t expect him to shove into you in one stroke, right away, spearing you right to the brim as you choked on a gasp.  And he was moving right away, too, giving you no time to adjust to the girth of him.  "Fuck, Niki!" you whined, earning you a hard spank to your ass.  

You should’ve known he’d get back at you for those few minutes where you wielded power over him.  Well, actually, you sort of had known, which was part of why you did it in the first place.

For a man who had just come already, he fucked you with a lot more desperation than you were expecting, fast and rough and dirty.  But you realized it was more for your benefit than his; damn him, he always knew exactly what you needed and gave it to you effortlessly, operating your body with the same intuitive precision he drove his cars with.

And if we're continuing with the car metaphors, then reaching around to rub your clit while he fucked you was like kicking you into high gear.

"Ohhhh my god," you crooned, arching your back and trying to push back against his thrusts.

"It feels good?" he asked, like it wasn't obvious.

"Feels so fucking good, Niki, please please please don't stop," you begged.  Because you wouldn't put it past him to stop all of a sudden— to slam on the e-brake and not move again until you squirmed and cried and pleaded your little heart out.  But even he wouldn't be so cruel now, and he kept fucking you as he pinched your clit hard.

"That's what I thought," he nodded, leaning down to wrap his body over yours and speak into your ear.  "You're moaning like a little whore, you know."

"M'your whore," you gasped.  "Yours, fuck, it's all for you."

He stood back up straight with a grin and held your hips as he started to really pound into you, your walls beginning to pulse rhythmically as you felt him rubbing over every sensitive spot inside you.  His cock was so deep that it felt like you struggled to breathe slightly each time he shoved all the way inside.

It was a bit out of character for him, much more aggressive than he would normally be, but you didn't pull over expecting to make love on the car.  No, this was fucking, through and through, and you were already going to hit your high so much sooner than you could've anticipated: pressure was building inside you faster than you knew what to do with, and your clit was literally throbbing with only his balls slapping against it to provide any relief.

"Oh god, Niki, baby, I'm… I'm gonna come," you panted.

"Do it, then," he instructed roughly.  "Come around my cock, schatz, and scream nice and loud for me since nobody's around to hear you."

Your knees buckled when it hit you, thankfully you had the car and his tight grip to keep you upright.  “Fuck, Niki,” you sobbed, and he laughed proudly before spitting out his demand:

“Louder.”

“Niki!” you yelped, and apparently you had finally said it loud enough, because he was suddenly groaning and spilling inside you, holding your hips tight enough to bruise to keep you still as he thrusted erratically.

You hummed happily and let your head fall onto the warm hood of the car, body going limp as he finally stilled and let out a slow sigh.  He was careful as he pulled out, but you were still so sensitive that it made your toes curl inside your shoes just a bit.

Even though he was quick to pull your panties back up, a drop of his come still managed to leak out of your hole and drip down your thigh.  With no intent to let it go to waste, Niki swiped it up with the tip of his finger and brought it to your lips for you to lick off; you were still a bit groggy in the afterglow but happily obliged, suckling the digit with a little simultaneous moan and sigh.

“We should be getting back to the party soon,” Niki mumbled, helping you stand upright and straightening your dress for you.  

“Do I look alright?” you asked, opening the passenger door and flipping down the visor to try to use the small mirror inside.

“You look gorgeous,” he smiled.

“I mean more if I look like I didn’t just leave a garden party to get railed by my boyfriend on the side of the road only to then return like nothing happened,” you explained.

“Oh… yeah, no, you do look a bit like that’s exactly what you’ve done,” he nodded.  “Do you really think they’ll notice?”

“Well, I guess we just have to hope they don’t,” you decided as you attempted to fix your lipstick as best as possible.  “And if they do… then we'll hope we don’t end up reading some unsavory gossip about Ferrari’s newest driver in the papers tomorrow.”

He laughed as he got back in the driver’s seat, starting the car while you hopped in (a bit too fast; you winced when you sat down and realized you were still slightly sore and probably would be for the rest of the day).  “Trust me, schatz, in this industry, fucking your girlfriend only qualifies as unsavory gossip when you already have a wife at home.  And even then, you can get away with it a few times.”

“Right,” you snorted as you rolled your eyes, “I forget sometimes that you’re considered a goody two-shoes for a racer.”

“I hope you didn’t agree to be my girlfriend in search of wild adventures with the bad boy type,” he smirked.

“We just fucked on the car right on the side of the road, Niki,” you reminded him, “believe it or not that’s pretty wild for most of us.”

“For me as well,” he agreed.  “It’s you that makes me so bold... sometimes I can hardly believe the things I do because you’re near.”

You smiled happily to yourself, relaxing back against the seat with a deep breath.  Just when you let your eyes fall shut as you listened to the engine with him, you were surprised when you heard him turn the radio on.

You, you make loving fun

It’s all I wanna do…

You chuckled.  “I like this song,” you announced, reaching to turn it up slightly, though it was still mainly background music as you watched the hillside roll by.

He surprised you again by reaching out and resting his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb over your skin.  But his eyes were still on the road, even when you looked over at him, and you recognized the driveway where you’d started down the end of the way.

“Back to reality, eh?” you sighed.

“For now,” he decided.  “I should make you meet other drivers and pit crew as revenge for all these social engagements you take me too.”

“Niki, that would require you to socialise with other drivers and pit crew, too,” you noted.

He shuddered.  “You should be safe for now, then.”

Dwarves Always Knock Thrice

Requested: Yes and no. @estethell​ challenged me to write a modern AU with Fíli and Kíli knocking at the reader’s door instead of Bilbo’s by mistake. I interpreted it as a ‘what if Fíli and Kíli end up in modern day Europe?’

Warnings: none so far, I wrote this with a fem!reader (sorry! I try to write more gender neutral in the future, I promise)

Summary: What if one day your favorite fictional characters knock on your door? A modern AU with a twist! (any similarities to what I would do in this case are purely coincidental 😏)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. There are hundreds of fics like this one. But none of them were written by me and my weird sense of humor 😆 Depending on the response I’ll turn this into a multichapter fic, if not this will stay a standalone oneshot. 

Humming a rather cheerful tune, you pressed the button on top of the coffee machine and your morning fuel started dripping into your favorite cup. You waited patiently until the foam reached the edge and then you turned the machine off. With the cup held between your hands, you inhaled deeply. Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee for a perfect start of the day.

A few minutes ago your boyfriend had left to go to work, only to see him again by the end of next week. He was going on a citytrip with your group of friends for a few days, which had been planned ages ago.  You were supposed to go with them, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any vacation days left. No, it was back to work for you instead. 

Not that you minded. You loved your job, and you were lucky enough to be able to work from home when you wanted to. It didn’t actually feel like work that way. At least you had decent coffee, you didn’t have to dress up and you could take a break whenever you wanted.  And now with your boyfriend gone for the week, you had no interruptions and lots of quiet evenings to look forward to. Cheers to that, you thought while you sipped at your coffee. 

The dinner table became your makeshift workplace, coffee within reach. There were no video meetings scheduled today so you were wearing your favorite pair of black leggings and a long oversized knitted sweater, with fluffy socks on your feet to complete your comfy outfit. 

You moved your computer mouse and your laptop sprung to life.  James, your Sphynx cat, hopped on the table and pushed his head in your hand, demanding cuddles.

“Another day at the office, how dreadful,” you smiled, petting him behind his ear. James purred and started to bathe himself. 

He was a Sphynx cat, so there was no fur. Nothing but flawless pink skin, soft to the touch. It almost felt like petting a warm peach. You chuckled at the comparison, and James stopped his grooming to look at you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry your Majesty. I’ll let you to it.” 

You booped his nose and got to work. 

After a day of sifting through emails, processing data and editing documents and spreadsheets, you felt utterly exhausted. A phrase your boyfriend likes to throw at you on these moments suddenly came to mind, ‘How can you be so tired when you’ve done nothing but sit down on your ass all day?’ Always the charmer.

You stood up, raised your arms above your head and stretched, groaning in the process. You froze when your stretch session was interrupted by three knocks on your front door. 

“Who still knocks these days?”

It was almost 6 pm, slowly turning dark outside and you’d let the shutters down about an hour ago. It was something you did as soon as the sun was setting. It was silly really, but it made you feel safe. 

But now it prevented you from seeing who was at your door.

The neighbours from down the street wouldn’t come by for a visit, they were the kind of people that liked to keep to themselves. Your parents would call first, so… a polite burglar perhaps?

You couldn’t be too careful these days, especially now, when you were alone, so you went to your intercom first to see who was at the door. 

The camera didn’t show anyone. You could see a part of your front yard, but that was it. Strange… You thought you could hear voices, so maybe there was someone at the door after all. Maybe someone had driven their car into the ditch. Wouldn’t be the first time. You lived in the countryside, with roads where only one car at a time could pass, with ditches on both sides. A challenge for city people, and the occasional daredevil usually had to be towed out of said ditch. 

What’s life without a little risk, you thought, and made your way to the front door. You weren’t the one to turn away from people in need. It would probably get yourself killed one day, you were too kind and gullible and people tended to take advantage of that. 

Another three knocks sounded, a little louder this time and you swung the door open. 

“Finally!”

Your boyfriend rushed inside and shot up the stairs. When you looked to your driveway, you saw his car with the lights on, the motor still running. He was running late again. As usual. 

After a few minutes he thundered down the stairs, his hiking boots in hand. 

“Almost forgot these,” he said while lifting them. He kissed your cheek and ran off.  You sighed. “See you next week, sweet. I’ll miss you.” 

Sarcasm was your way to cope, to learn how to deal with the lack of love and care. Because who were you kidding? He wouldn't miss you. 

You shuffled to your kitchen, in need of something hot. To drink, that is. And while the coffee machine filled your cup for the second time that day, you rubbed your face with your hands trying to think of how you had ended up in this situation in the first place… 

“Just try and enjoy a week by yourself,” you whispered. 

You were about to take a first sip when three knocks sounded for the third time.

“Seriously?”

When you opened the door, you couldn’t stop the massive eyeroll when you saw it was your boyfriend again. 

“Hand me the reservation papers of the hotel, will you? I forgot them and I need the address for the gps,” he said. 

“I sent it in an email to Tom, and I put the address in the gps system yesterday. Now go, you’re late enough as it is. Call me when you get there okay?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek again. 

“Bye! Enjoy your week by yourself!” “I will, don’t worry,” you smiled. 

Before you closed the door there was a bright white flash. You covered your ears on instinct, something you always did when there was a thunderstorm. 

“That was very closeby,” your boyfriend gasped. “They didn’t say anything about a thunderstorm tonight.” “I’m not sure that was lightning… there was no thunder?” “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

And with those words your boyfriend left for the second time that night. 

After closing the front door with a small heart, you tried to calm yourself.  You were terrified of thunderstorms, and you really didn’t feel like going through one when you were on your own. Let’s just hope he was right and it was nothing, you thought. 

Your coffee…! Taking a sip from the now lukewarm drink, you pondered if you would make it into an Irish or Italian one. Heaven knows you deserved it, right?  With your coffee still in hand you made your way over to the liquor cabinet, only to be interrupted by yet another pair of knocks on the front door.

“I’m going to kill him,” you murmured while you walked into the hallway. “What could he have possibly forgotten this time?”

You swung the door open with a little too much force, but you couldn’t care less by that time. The small amount of patience you had left was already out of the window and you just wanted to enjoy your spiked coffee. 

“What did you forg-?!”

Your voice got caught in your throat when your eyes fell on your visitors. Visitors. As in plural. Definitely not your boyfriend.  You recognized them immediately, there was no doubt who they were but… it couldn’t be! This was simply impossible!

In your shock you forgot you were holding your cup of coffee and it slipped out of your hand. The cup completely shattered on the floor but you hardly noticed. 

Because right in front of you, in the light of your porch light at your very own doorstep, stood Fíli and Kíli. 

As in Fíli and Kíli, nephews to Thorin, King under the Mountain. As in Fíli and Kíli, characters from The Hobbit. Fictional characters. With a heavy emphasis on ‘fictional’. Made up by Tolkien. 

So how the hell was it possible that they were standing in front of you, alive and well?

The two Durin brothers were a bit taken aback so it seemed, because they too remained silent at first. After a few awkward seconds Kíli was the one who decided to speak up instead of his older brother. He was clutching his sword and quiver, just like he did in the movie. 

“Kíli,” he began. He was side eyeing his brother who was still staring at you, and smacked Fíli’s chest when he didn’t respond.  “What?”  “Kíli,” Kíli repeated, pointing at himself and then at his brother who finally caught on. “And Fíli.” “At your service,” they both continued, bowing deeply.

“Y/N, at yours,” you responded without a second thought.  Kíli’s face split into a wide smile.

“We’re looking for master Boggins!” “Yeah, I kind of expected you to say that,” you murmured, but they heard you. “Oh, so you’re a seer?” Kíli assumed excitedly. “No! No, I’m just… me. But there is no mister Baggins here,” you said, correcting Kíli. “Are we at the wrong house?” Fíli wondered.   “I’m afraid so.” “Well… can you help us find him?” Kíli looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “I would but, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Both of their faces fell. They were so in character, if someone was pranking you, they did one hell of a job in finding these two actors. And their costumes were spot on, from the carvings on Kíli’s bow to the colour of Fíli’s fur coat. It was scaringly accurate… They looked so much like Dean and Aidan’s version, but not quite. You didn’t know why exactly, but you had the feeling they were real. They were Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís. 

Fíli stared at you with a confused expression. “What do you mean, my lady?”

Oh. Now, if you weren’t already a little enamored by their looks, the title he just gave you would have. You weren’t exactly used to endearments. 

Not that Fíli had meant as an endearment but you wouldn’t mind if they called you my lady for the rest of your life. It just made you grow a couple of inches. 

“I’m probably going to regret this, but… come in.”  You stepped aside so they could enter the hallway. 

The heavy boots they were wearing made scratching sounds on your tile floor and your mind immediately went to your delicate wooden floors in the rest of your house. 

You were going to sound extremely bossy and uptight but you had to think of your interior. 

“Could you both maybe take off your boots?”

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. 

“If you want?” Fíli asked you. 

“Please.”

You took the swords and quiver from Kíli so he had his hands free and placed them in a corner of your hallway. Fíli followed your example and added his own weapons to the pile. 

“I trust you not to attack us when we’re unarmed,” he winked at you. 

You smiled back at him, knowing all too well he still had some smaller knives hidden somewhere.  For a moment the thought of reenacting the knife scene in Mirkwood crossed your mind, but you thought better of it. He wouldn’t find it as funny as you thought it was and you’d probably lose a finger or two if you tried to take a knife from him. It was best not to challenge him. Yet. 

Once their boots were placed neatly next to their weapons, you motioned them to follow you into your living room. Your eyes drifted to the shards of your coffee mug and the spilled coffee, you needed to clean it up but it simply had to wait.

“I don’t really know how to begin explaining all this,” you said, while waving your arms around you, “but it might be a good idea if we sit down?”

You gestured towards the sitting area and both brothers took a seat on your couch.

It seemed like they didn’t know where to look first.  Their eyes wandered to your tv, surround system, laptop, aquarium, … 

Kíli whispered something in Fíli’s ear, to which the older brother shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want to drink anything?” you suggested. “I have water, milk, beer, …”

Their eyes lit up when you mentioned the beer, so you nodded your head. 

“Beer it is, although I need to warn you. It’s Belgian beer, so it’s probably a lot stronger than what you guys are used to.”

You mentally facepalmed at your last sentence, why did you even mention that? They didn’t realize they were in a different universe, so mentioning your country would give them zero information. 

“I think we can handle it just fine,” Kíli commented with a smirk. Fíli nodded in agreement.  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

After another look at the dwarves on your couch, you disappeared into your kitchen. You fetched two beer glasses out of the dishwasher and two bottles of beer from your fridge, before you noticed how much your hands were shaking.

Okay, Y/N, you need to calm down first… Easy to say when you have two dwarves sitting in your living room. Dwarves! And your favorite dwarves too.  How many times had you imagined this exact moment in your fantasies? In your dreams? 

Of course! That was it…!  You probably fell asleep at your laptop and you were dreaming.  But then why did it feel so real?

Maybe someone was pranking you after all? Nah, that wasn’t likely. Nobody knew you were even in the Tolkien fandom. Let alone who your favorite characters were. 

So it must be a dream... But if you were dreaming, they definitely would have been an exact copy of the movie Fíli and Kíli. As in, Dean and Aidan in costumes. The ones sitting on your couch looked slightly different, still handsome - Mahal, did they look handsome - but you would probably refer to them as discount Dean and Aidan. 

Your small mental breakdown was interrupted when Kili started to scream. 

“What is that?!”

Quickly snatching the bottles and glasses in both of your hands, you hurried back to the Durin princes. 

When you entered your living room, you were met with quite the hilarious view. Tolkien had described Fíli and Kíli as fearless and courageous, but there was nothing courageous about their behaviour right now.Fíli was sitting with his legs pulled up and Kili half on Fili’s back, pointing at James who was trying to jump on Fili’s lap. 

“That’s James, my cat.”

“That’s a cat?!” Kíli yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” you laughed, placing the glasses and bottles on the coffee table. “He’s a sphynx cat, he’s supposed to look like that. They don’t have fur.”

You called James and he immediately ran to you, so you could pick him up. He rubbed his head against your chin and started purring, happy to get some attention. 

You crouched down before the two princes.

“Go ahead, pet him. You don’t have to be scared.” “We’re not scared,” Kíli protested, puffing out his chest.  You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

They were wary at first, but eventually both brothers were petting James. Before you could stop him, James jumped out of your arms on Fíli’s lap and curled up against the fur of his coat. 

Fíli froze and tried his best not to let it show that he wasn’t comfortable with this at all. Next to him, Kíli had the hardest time keeping a straight face, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his chuckles but his shoulders were already shaking with laughter. 

You poured their beer and placed it in front of them. 

“Like I said, it’s pretty strong so small sips. Do you want me to take James away?” Fíli shook his head. “I-it’s fine!”

You took a seat on your other couch and anxiously started to rub your thighs. 

“So… like I said, I don’t really know how to explain this but I think I know what happened to you.” “Wait… did something happen to us? I don’t understand?” Kíli asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Oh, right. They didn’t realise they were in a different universe right now. Maybe you should take a different approach. 

“Can you tell me what happened before you knocked on my door?”

Kíli took the two glasses and gave one to his brother before he took a gulp, humming appreciatively. 

“I like this,” he said. “And to answer your question, we traveled to the Shire and knocked on the door with the mark. And here we are!” “But… my door doesn’t have a mark?”

It was Fíli’s turn to roll his eyes. “Kee, you’re not telling the whole story. But you’re right about this,” he smiled while raising his glass, taking another sip. “This is good stuff.”

You chuckled when you saw some foam sticking to his mustache.  He raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?”

“I have enough beer in the fridge, you don’t have to save some for later,” you laughed, pointing at your own lip to get the message across. 

Fíli quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The movement made James shift in his lap and the Dwarf went rigid again.  You decided not to say anything about it, you figured maybe Fili didn’t like cats that much. Or just James. 

“So what did Kíli leave out?” “Your door wasn’t the first one we knocked on. There was a round, green door in the Shire. And that one had the mark of Gandalf. He’s a wizard.”

You nodded. So far it went exactly like it should. Shire, green door, mark. 

“But when we knocked on it, we found ourselves in a field all of a sudden. And your house was the only one around so we figured that was where we were supposed to be. Since Gandalf is a wizard, you never know what to expect.”

Okay, that was different. It almost sounded as if they went through a portal of some sort. Like a portkey? They touched the portkey and traveled to a different universe? But portkeys weren’t part of Middle Earth, that was Harry Potter. Did they have something similar?

“You’re not in Middle Earth anymore,” you said softly. 

Both brothers stared at you with wide eyes, their beer long forgotten. Kíli looked at his older brother, and pulled at his sleeve.

“What does she mean by that?”

Fíli kept his eyes fixed on your face, searching your features to see if you were lying. If you were trying to prank them. 

“It means that you traveled between different worlds. In my world, where you’re in right now, Middle Earth is fictional. A story. It doesn't exist. Just like my world doesn’t exist where you’re from.” “I don’t believe you,” Kíli said with a frown. 

You had expected this. It’s not like you would’ve believed them if you were in their place. 

“Look around,” you tried to explain, “you can see things you recognize. The furniture, me being a human, … But you can also see things that you don’t understand. They are from this world.”

“You said Middle Earth was a story to you?” Fíli asked you.  “Yes. There are tales about Middle Earth, and Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, the race of Men, … Orcs, wargs, goblins,” you explained, careful not to mention anything about their storyline or the one with the One Ring. “But I’ve never thought it could be real.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, letting it all sink in. 

“How… How do we get back to Middle Earth?” Fili wondered.  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. But I’m going to help you find your way back. We’ll figure something out.” 

You played with your fingers, a telltale sign you were nervous.

“And in the meantime you can stay here... With me.”

A/N: There you go... This is the setup for a possible new multichapter fic if people are interested in it.   Just think of the two brothers in a modern day kitchen and bathroom, how the reader tries to cope with her fictional crush in her home and... how will they get back to Middle Earth? Would you be interested to read that? Let me know!  And of course let me know what you thought of this story :) 

A/N part 2: Sometimes tumblr switches paragraphs for no reason at all, if you notice this happened, send me a message! I’ll try and keep an eye on it myself, but some help is always appreciated.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @artsywaterlily​ @entishramblings​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin1234​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​ @aredhel-of-gondolin​ @leethology​ @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky​

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing​ @sxperncturalimpala67​

please could you do Rita and Buck + a secluded country road + er smut 👀

ABSO-FREAKIN'-LUTELY I CAN

Please forgive me, my smut game is a bit rusty. But I hope you enjoy, dear nonnie! <3

Smut is under the cut

Crisp autumn air and sunshine created the perfect balance as Rita and Buck made their way through the Pennsylvania countryside. The cool breeze tamed the heat of the sun, so they could drive with the convertible top down comfortably. She looked resolutely at the trees, grateful for the scarf on her head and the sunglasses on her face, for they disguised her nerves. She could not, however, hide her hands, where she unconsciously picked at her cuticles. Buck stole a glance at his wife and saw right away. He took one hand off the wheel and placed it on her knee.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked. It was a struggle to keep his eyes on the road since he usually preferred to look at her when they needed to talk.

“It’s nothing, mi amor, I’m fine,” she replied.

Still, the assault on her nails continued, and he knew she’d be kicking herself later if she didn’t settle down enough to stop. So, he would have to insist. He pulled off the lane and into the grass on the side of the road, coming to a sloppy stop before cutting the engine. She shot him a questioning look.

“What are you -”

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said with gentle firmness.

She sighed, removed her sunglasses, and placed them in her lap. “Maybe I am a little bit nervous.”

“Why?” he questioned. “These are my friends. They all loved watching us dance together on the show.”

“I didn’t have to talk on the show,” she replied.

So that was it. He knew how self-conscious she could get about her accent and the way she sometimes misspoke in English. She did fine in one-on-one interactions, but large crowds of people she didn’t know really got her in her head. Though he was certain no one Easy Company would mind, he understood her reservations.

“Hey, the way some of those guys talk, they’ve got no room to judge,” he joked. “If you can understand Bill Guarnere, no one can accuse you of not being fluent.”

She half-smiled at that, with a pitiful little forced laugh, but she needed more. He reached out a hand and cupped her face.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said through another sigh. “I need to relax. I should have brought a flask or something.”

He chuckled. “There will be alcohol there, I promise. The Winters’ don’t drink, but they don’t outlaw it just because they’re hosting.”

“I know that, but I wish I had something for before I get there,” she returned. “To take off the edge.”

That gave him an idea. A naughty, filthy idea, but one that just might work. So he trailed his fingers from her cheek to her jaw, tracing the delicate shape of it before moving to lightly brush over the soft skin of her neck. It sent a shiver up her spine. He scooted closer to her to press his lips close to her ear.

“I think I can take the edge off for you, baby,” he whispered.

His free hand went to her thigh and he dragged his fingers up it, bunching up her skirt just a little to suggest what was on his mind. She shuddered again, but she also had shifted towards him, leaning into his touch.

“It’s daylight, mi amor, and we’re on the road,” she reminded him.

“So?” he challenged. “I think that makes it even more exciting.” He accentuated that opinion with a nip to her earlobe, making her gasp.

“Buck!”

His lips found the sweet spot on her neck that always turned her to putty in his hands and it worked like a charm. Her body melted into his, so he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her even closer. The hand on her leg traveled to the inside of it, pushing that skirt up even further. He could feel her heat already and he’d barely touched her. Her breathing grew heavier as he progressed toward the apex of her thighs, and when his fingers brushed the outside of her panties, she let out a desperate little whine.

“Don’t tease,” she pouted.

He wanted to leave a little mark on her neck in retaliation, but thought better of it. The reunions were usually family-friendly affairs. So, he pressed a finger into her clit, over her panties, rubbing small circles, just how she liked it. Her breath hitched in her throat at the initial contact and she moaned as he began to move. Her hips jumped toward his hand but her legs fell further open as he worked her up.

“God, you’re sexy,” he groaned.

She muttered a breathy, unintelligible response in rapid Spanish, but he did make out más somewhere in there and that, he understood perfectly. Slowly, he pushed her panties aside and held them there with his ring finger, using his middle and index to explore her slick folds. Her hand latched onto his forearm, ensuring he wasn’t going anywhere now that he’d gotten her this far. He smirked against her throat.

“Buck, please,” she keened, grinding down onto his hand.

“It’ll feel better if I don’t rush,” he returned, wickedly sweeping his thumb just over her clit, making her shiver. “But if you insist.”

With that, he sank his first two fingers inside her. Her head rolled back and she groaned with relief, rocking her hips to establish a rhythm. His pants got tight as he watched his effect on her, but he pushed his own desire down. This was about her and making her feel like the amazing, beautiful, powerful woman he knew her to be.

He started off slow, as he usually did, matching the push and pull of her hips. Her soft whines and whimpers egged him on, so his thumb found her clit again. He played with the pressure and rotation. He knew he’d found one she liked when her walls clamped down on his fingers and her hips jumped from the seat. She grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss to stifle the squeal she’d let out. The didn’t last long though when he crooked his fingers inside her and pressed, causing her mouth to fall open with a strangled cry of his name.

He began a steady rhythm. She continued to rock against his hand. Her face and chest were hot and flushed as she panted and moaned for him, the spring in her belly winding up tighter and tighter. She was close already, hurtling toward release, and he wasn’t stopping, for he was just as desperate to get her there.

“M’close,” she whined.

“I know, baby,” he returned. “Let it go for me, wanna feel you.”

One, two, three more pumps and it happened - her back arched, her legs trembled, and her voice cracked with a sob. He worked her through the peak and coming down, whispering soft praise in her ear. Her body took a moment to grow still as she caught her breath, leaning on him to remain upright. He removed his fingers and she winced. Then she inhaled deeply before she hummed with content, snuggling into his shoulder.

“Mmm, that was nice,” she sighed.

“Feel better?” he wondered.

She nodded. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” he returned.

“Don’t you want to...you know…”

He kissed her cheek. “Sweet of you to offer, but I’m okay, I promise.”

She frowned. Then pushed herself off of him to get onto her knees, throwing one leg over his and shimmying closer to try and settle in his lap. His hands went to her hips to steady her. Unfortunately, they weren’t much help because she shifted again. Her skirt was not slip resistant against the leather seat and - HONK! Her rear went right into the horn.

“¡Ay, carajo!” she cried as Buck burst into laughter.

Gently, he maneuvered her back to her place at his side as they giggled together.

“We’re gonna be late, honey,” he said. “But I promise you can make it up to me later.”

She winked at him. “Believe me, I will.”

He started the car and pulled back onto the road, thankful for the seclusion of the Winters’ home. Rita replaced her sunglasses and looked out at the scenery, now able to appreciate the fall foliage. All thanks to her doting - and rather talented - husband.

Rejection: Technical Boy - American Gods

Technical Boy x friend!reader, romantic

Done for the January challenge by @americangodschallenges and edited by the amazing, wonderful, lovely @dragon430. Seriously, none of this would have been possible without her. Thank her, guys, thank her.

TW/CW: Rejection, arguments, yelling, physical violence (it’s brief but it’s there), and insults.

Word count: 3.8+K

•

Technical Boy laughed as if you'd told the funniest joke in the world. His chuckles bounced through the house, the echoes only hammering the spear of pain farther into your heart. After a few minutes, he finally quieted down, realizing you weren’t laughing with him.

"Oh, you’re serious? Okay, wow. Not expecting that.” He shifted in his place on the sofa, lifting his free hand to count his reasons. “Um, first of all, ew. Second of all, never say that again. And third of all, that is so gross, why would you say that in the first place?"

The sound of disgust in his tone was the last hit needed to drive the spear completely through your heart, shattering it into a billion, microscopic pieces. You knew he didn’t like you the way you felt for him, but you still found the courage to tell him. It was stupid, but you wanted him to know. After years of being friends, you thought he should at least know that you had developed more intense feelings for him. Yes, you expected him to reject you, but you never thought he’d be so harsh about it.

"Okay," your voice bubbled out as a quivering whisper, too filled with conflicting emotions to come out steady. “I should go. I have to work in the morning.” Standing to leave, you looked at him over your shoulder to see if this was just some sick joke of his.

He just stared at his phone and scrolled aimlessly. Without looking up, he questioned why you’d be leaving now. It wasn’t that late, and he knew for a fact, you always worked the late shift. You said yourself that you hated waking up early. He had no remorse for his words, and that broke your heart even more.

As the door slammed shut behind you, Technical Boy rolled his eyes. He'd see you tomorrow. He always did.

•

Water flooded out of the tub faucet. The cool water quickly warmed itself, and you couldn’t be more thankful for it. Taking off your clothes, you stepped in, closing the curtain behind you and turning the showerhead on.

Your heart squeezed in your chest as you breathed heavily. The water's warmth and a thick layer of steam surrounded you, helping your body untense slowly but surely. But as your mind relaxed, the more it decided to bring up the memory of Technical Boy’s rejection.

Sinking to the warming, slick floor of the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. Gently, you laid your head down and cried.

You hadn't expected him to like you back. That would have shocked you more than him hugging you. Still, his cruelty stung. His disgust burned you. He didn't need to go that out of his way to hurt you, to reject you. A simple no would have sufficed.

Water continued to cascade down. It did not judge your tears or your pain, one of the only things that wouldn’t. It, simply, was there, basking you int its warmth and surrounding you with the calming noise. The noise did not muffle your sobs, but it did make you feel less alone.

•

Hearing someone knocking at your door, you walked over, brushing away leftover tears and water droplets. Opening it, shock ran through you as you watched as Technical Boy stood there, scrolling through his phone. You didn’t open the door fully, not wanting him to see it as an invitation.

Technical Boy looked at you, nodding his head in nonchalance. “Hey,” he said.

Leaning against the door, you looked down. "What are you doing here?" You asked.

"Got bored. Kinda missed you. Had time to spare." He shrugged, slipping his phone away. The god acted as if yesterday didn't happen. Like he didn't reject you in such a cruel manner. "Does it matter?"

You wiped your nose, sniffling quietly. "Now isn't really a good time."

"Why? You have fun last night with someone or something like that?"

You could have punched him. First, he shows up, then acts like neither of you said anything about love or rejection, and now he's making jokes about you fucking someone? Rage boiled in you, but one look into his eyes and it all melted away. You hated how easily he could calm you without even knowing.

"What do you want, T?" You sighed.

"To talk to you. That would be nice." Getting closer, he pressed one hand against the door frame, leaning against it. "Come on, it'll only take a second. Maybe two."

Unable to say no, you moved aside, letting him in.

"Okay," you said, crossing your arms. "What do you want?"

Not even a second after the words left your mouth, Technical Boy pushed you against the wall and slammed his lips to yours in a harsh kiss. Your hands immediately flew up and cupped his cheeks as his hands settled on your hips, pulling you closer. Your bodies moulded together perfectly as if they were puzzle pieces made to do just that.

You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, but just as quickly as he kissed you, he pulled away.

The god stared at you for a moment before leaving in a rush without a word. For a moment, you stood there, using the wall as support, dazed and confused and very, very angry.

Your crush just kissed you like his life depended on it after rejecting you. Shit like that leaves people with mixed signals and emotions/ But, worst of all, the kiss left you utterly breathless and wanting more.

•

Technical Boy’s foot tapped repeatedly against the floor of his limo. He lifts his hand to his lip and bites the corner of his thumbnail in concentration. His mind plagued with the realization of what he’d done, thoughts flowing back and forth like waves.

First, he rejected you, rather cruelly, he might add. After which, he showed up at your place, acting as if nothing happened. Then, he kissed you. He fucking kissed you. The one thing he swore to himself he wouldn't do.

Friends with benefits was totally something he'd be whatever about. Or just friends works, too. But, if he kissed you, as he did, that would mean he'd have to confront himself. That was not something he was ready to do.

He fell back into his seat with a sigh and stared at the roof of his car. If he closed his eyes, the young god could still feel your lips against his. He could still feel your body, the water droplets rolling off your skin, the heat of it, and your hands cupping his cheeks. He craved those feelings again. He’d had a taste and now he wasn’t ready to let them go.

But the god had made a mistake. One he had no idea how to fix besides ignoring it and leaving it broken. He didn’t want to leave it that way, though. The gods know he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place with no way out.

The limo rolled to a stop, and he stepped out with a huff. The ride wasn’t as long as he’d hoped.

The branches of large trees swayed lightly under the clear, blue sky of the countryside. A single white cloud drifted by, only to vanish behind the rolling green hills in the distance.

It smelled of wildflowers and grass, of mighty oaks and maples. It smelled of the wild and the unknown and the silent. If felt of them, too, as if every living being had a presence only he could feel. Birds sand melodiously high above him, flitting from one tree to another. The sun shone down, rays scattering to heat the dirt road and offer a little light through the emerald leaves.

He stopped and breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh air that nature offered him. He never really liked the outdoors until you came into his life and dragged him out all the time. He complained nonstop every time you did it to try and hide his happiness from spending time with you. But now he wonders if you had noticed, and that was the reason you did it so often.

Technical Boy shook his head to clear his thoughts and walked into the woods, old leaves and brittle twigs crunching and snapping beneath him. When he found himself far from the surrounding civilization, he screamed as loud as he could. It shattered the previous, blissful silence and echoed through the foliage, scaring every animal in a 20-foot radius of him away. He unceremoniously dropped to the forest floor, his throat burning from his shriek. But the ache didn’t stop the next scream of anger from rippling past his lips.

He was such a fucking idiot. If World ever found out how he felt for you, the bastard would use Technical Boy's love to his advantage. World could hurt you or have someone else do it for him. And that wasn’t something the god could deal with.

Technical Boy could lose you completely because of a stupid fucking mistake, and, as smart as he was, he had no idea how to protect you. From himself or World.

•

You said nothing when Technical Boy came home. Just stewed in your anger. The arsehole wasn't going to get a fucking word out of you. Not even a sound.

He sat on the sofa and pulled out his phone. Predictably, he didn't acknowledge what had happened a mere 2 hours ago.

Time passed slowly as the two of you refused to talk to the other for very different reasons. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, but neither of you wanted to act on it. After all, that would mean you’d be claiming defeat.

He threw an arm over the top of the sofa and continued his scrolling. His fingers tapped th back of the furniture to restrain himself from doing something rash. Whether that be to kiss you again like he’d bee longing for or to complain, he had no idea.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. The silence and the glares you threw his way were too much, and he cracked.

"What?" he growled, scowling at you.

You looked up from your phone and shrugged in fake innocence. Out of sheer spite, you were downloading Tinder. Now, you had no idea if he could tell, but it did make you feel better.

The god's sneer deepened.

"You aren't seriously downloading fucking Tinder, are you?"

You shrugged again, not looking up. If you did you were sure you’d cave, and that wasn’t something you were planning on doing until he apologized.

"Y/N, stop giving me the fucking silent treatment and respond."

You simply flipped him off, starting to set up your Tinder profile.

He allowed himself to fall back into the sofa, his head falling onto the top. Defeated, he sighed. He couldn't muster the anger to be like that to you. Not right now.

"What do you want from me?" He asked, his head tilting to look at you. "Do you want me to apologize? Say, 'I'm sorry'? Well, I'm not. I'm not fucking sorry and I'm not ever going to be." He didn't know if he was talking about the kiss or the rejection, but either way, he was lying straight through the gap in his teeth. "I did what I did, Y/N. I can't change either of them."

Breaking your promise to yourself, you finally spoke.

"What I want is an explanation." You sat up quickly, your emotion taking over your actions. "Why did you reject me only to kiss me? It doesn't make any fucking sense."

He sighed and stood, walking away. He couldn't offer you that answer, not once that would satisfy you, anyway. You were always good at seeing through his bullshit.

"Don't walk away from me," you shout, reaching over and grabbing him before he could get far. "Just tell me why. That's all I want."

•

He pulled his arm free, anger starting to boil inside him. Not at you but at this situation. He just wanted to get away from it and act like it never happened, for your safety. But now he saw that won’t happen, so he has to solve it the hard way.

"Don't tell me what to do, Y/N. I'm a god," he growled, hovering over you. "You are nothing."

Your shoulders fell, and you step back in shock. The switch in his attitude wwas so quick it almost gave you whiplash, and his comment stung worse than a thousand wasp stings. And just like a wasp’s venom would infect a wound, Technical Boy’s words poisoned your mind with insecurities and sadness.

"You mean nothing to me. I kissed you because I felt like it. Because I could. Because I wanted to mess with you. No other reason but that. You're human," he sneers, looking you up and down in faux disgust. "You are a tiny little flea that does nothing but annoy me."

Tears slipped from your eyes, and he could feel his resolve weakening. He had to do this to you. He had to protect you. If that meant hurting you and chasing you away, then he would. As long as you were safe. As long as you were far from him.

As he watched your tears fall, he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and apologize over and over again. But he couldn't. Losing you like this, knowing you were alive and safe somewhere out there, was easier than admitting he cared for you and losing you in a far worse way to World. If he did this to you, you’d leave, and sure, it’d hurt for a time, but not forever. If he told you he cared and you were happy together, but he got upgraded, you’d lose him, and that would hurt you in a way he didn’t think you were ready to handle. And if World found out, he’d use you against him. World would hurt you, and if that did come to pass, Technical Boy wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Temporary heartbreak is easier than living a life loving one person that you can never be with.

He turned away from you. The god couldn't look at you; he couldn't look at what he'd done to you. "Get out," he said. "I never want to see you again."

That was a lie. A horrible, brutal lie that he hated to say.

And you hated to hear it even more. You knew it was a lie. He could never look you in the eye when he lied to you. He didn’t when he rejected you (you didn't know why you hadn't noticed at the time), he didn't when he was at your place, he didn't when he insulted you a few seconds ago, and he was doing it again.

"T-"

"Get out!" He shouted, fists clenching to keep himself rooted in his decision. "Just go."

Your arms shook, anger erupting at his untruthfulness. “No,” you said. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck the problem is.”

Years of friendship crumbled to dust as soon as you mentioned having a crush on him, and he gets like this. He acts like he never cared in the first place. It was fucking ridiculous, and you weren’t okay with taking his shite.

“Fuckin’ answer me, Technical Boy.” You stormed over, arms crossed and eyebrows creased in frustration.

“I hate you,” he said. “Now get the fuck out.”His back was still turned to you.

“No.” You stood firm and did your best not to let him get to you.

“Just go, Y/N! Just fucking get out of here!”

“N. O. Technical Boy. N. O. I am not leaving until you tell me why you’re so insistent on pushing me away and why you rejected me, only kiss me the next day. I want to know why you’re doing this to me. To us.”

“There is no us, okay. I was just using you! You’re a thing to me, not a person, not a friend. Nothing.” He turned to you and leant in closer, his face only a breath away from yours. “You mean nothing to me. Now go.” The god pointed to the door, hoping that this would be what pushed you away.

Getting in your face was a mistake of epic proportions that hit him like a brick in seconds. Not only could you see the hurt in his eyes but he was also close enough to--

“Fuck!” He shouted, stumbling back and grabbing his jaw in pain. His surprise quickly turned to anger. “What the fuck was that for?”

You glared at him. Your hand hurt from punching him, but you ignored it.

“What do you think it was for? Shits and giggles?” You spat. “Here, I’ll give you a fucking list, you arsehole.” Starting to count on your fingers, you named the things he’d done to you in the past 24 hours. “Lying, hurting me, insulting me, kissing me after rejecting, getting in my face. Oh, and did I already mention lying? Probably, but I’ll do it again because it’s really starting to piss me off.”

His nostrils flared as he straightened his spine. Internally, he knew he deserved it, but he couldn’t let you know that.

“Would you have rather I lie and tell you I liked you back?” The god challenged.

“No!” Your arms spread out. “I would have rathered you not fucking kiss me out of the blue! That’s what I would have rathered. I would have rather you just ignored my feelings for you than treat me like this.”

“I didn’t fucking start this, Y/N. This is on you.” He pointed at you, scowling.

You just laughed. “Me? I didn’t start this. You did as soon as you kissed me. All I wanted to know was why but then you started lying.”

He chuckled mockingly and looked away, his tongue poking at the skin under his lower lip inside his mouth. He was reaching his end, and he wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer.

“Just tell me, for fuck’s sake. That’s all I want!”

And that was his breaking point.

”You wanna know why I kissed you? Why I lied?” He asked, frowning and his hands on his hips. He had lost all his fight. You weren’t going to drop the subject until you learned the tuth, so that’s what he’ll have to tell.

“I did it because I care about you. Okay? That’s why. I kissed you because I have cared deeply about you for years, and I was being an impulsive idiot. I lied to you because I’m fucking scared, Y/N. I don’t want you to die because of me. World is dangerous and volatile, and we don’t have the best working relationship. If he felt like it, he could have you killed just to hurt me. And when I get upgraded, you’ll be left alone, not knowing what happened or where I am.” His voice lowered, his anger turning into fear and uncertainty.

His eyebrows scrunched together in sadness, his emotions bursting like water through a dam. “I’m a god. One of modernity. We either burn bright and fast or long and low. World and Media play the long game. They know how to use people and mortal connections against those that piss them off. I can’t- I can’t let them use you against me because I pissed them off. I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I wouldn’t be able to handle losing you like that.”

Hearing his explanation, as good as it felt to finally know, made you cry. You hadn’t known that he cared about you like that. Maybe you were blind or stupid. Honest, you thought he never would care as anything more than a friend. But to hear this, his fear and love mixed together, it broke your heart.

“You care about me?” You asked, staring in disbelief.

“That’s what you got out of that?” He sniffled. “Out of all of what I said, the care part is the only one you picked up?”

“I stopped listening after that part, yeah.”

He laughed, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t believe you.” The god wiped away his tears. He looked at you with a pained smile.

Quietly, you walked to him, placing a hand on his cheek.

“We can’t,” he whispered. “For your safety, we can’t.”

“Says the guy who kissed me first,” you joked.

He nuzzled into your hand and kissed it before looking into your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Then push me away.”

He couldn’t, and you knew it. So, once again, he kissed you, his lips moulding to yours perfectly. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, lips moving slowly in tandem with yours. He didn’t want to rush this like he did the last. He wanted to cherish it. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you as close as possible. Impossibly close to where you could feel his heart hammering in his chest. You were sure he could feel yours as well.

“Just tonight,” he muttered, slightly pulling away so he could speak. “Then, never again.”

You nodded, pressing your forehead to his and rubbing it affectionately. You opened your mouth to answer, but when your eyes met his, it was like you were frozen in time. His expression was one you never wanted to forget.

His pupils were blown wide, almost encasing his beautiful, blue irises in inky blackness. But still, his eyes held so much emotion, it would take years to sort through them all. The most prominent being love as it overlapped everything else, burying the unimportant feelings to deal with later.

His hair and clothes were slightly dishevelled from the yelling match and pacing from earlier, but in this instance, it only made him seem more attractive. He sighed gently, and his breath fanned over your face, leaving a heat tingling over your skin and the smell of mint in its wake. He mumbled your name at your silence, leaning closer and just barely tapping his lips against yours.

“Just tonight,” your voice comes out as a whisper, your lips gracing over his as you pull him in for another kiss.

Both your eyes fluttered shut, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, twisting your fingers through his gorgeous locks and pulling lightly on the strands. He sighed into the kiss, squeezing fistfuls of your shirt and trying not to drag you closer to him, not that you could get any closer.

Those are the last sounds heard in the house as you and Technical Boy spend the rest of your night together. That would be the only time anything like that would happen, so you both were ready to milk it for everything it was worth

“Legend Weavers”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This drabble is written with my own Original Characters. I hope to one day write a full story with these characters and their world. I figured a prompt challenge would be a good way to introduce them to readers.

Word Count: 2,050

Approx. Reading Time: ~8 minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drew’s head was spinning after she left the council hall. Night had fallen in the time it had taken for her world to turn itself upside down.

Even after it had been explained to her- she still couldn’t believe it. She had died 25 years ago? And now she was back, with a new life and no memories of her old one, and no one knew how or why?

Ra couldn’t stop staring at her like she was a ghost. 

Bianca would barely give her room to breathe. The freckled girl had stayed glued to Drew’s hip no matter how hard she tried to shake her.

And Eros. Eros wouldn’t even look at her. Wouldn’t speak to her. He left the room not long after her arrival at the castle headquarters. She didn’t know why but a part of her soul ached because of this. The part of her soul that remembered their names and faces even when her mind couldn’t recall ever knowing these friends.

God, how she wished she could remember. Drew tried explaining to Mother Nature’s council that she was just ordinary. She explained that she lived an ordinary life up until the tornado swept her and her van off the road. She explained the shock she felt at having the breath squeezed out of her by a stranger- Bianca- hugging her when she regained consciousness. 

They were shocked to learn that she basically underwent a total system reset in the past 25 years. The day she “died” on the battlefield in their world was the day she was found as a newborn on a street corner in Pennsylvania. They were almost as shocked to learn this as Drew was to learn that these people- these gods and spirits and legends- never aged at all.

“What do you mean your 354th birthday was three months ago?!” Drew had half shouted at Bianca as the taller blonde girl was trying to make small talk.

Bianca had paused for a long moment. She continued in her borderline-annoyed French accent, “You know, if you’re going to freak out about every little thing for a whole ass second time, this is going to get really taxing.”

That was another thing. Everything was apparently happening to Drew for a “second time”. The people around her kept alluding to the “first time she had tried this” or the “first time she had done that”. She wouldn’t believe a word of what they were saying if it weren’t for the annoying nagging feeling of her own memories trying to resurface.

She walked outside to clear her mind.

The lights of a town a few miles down the hill twinkled along with the stars. Ra had told her about how the castle was cloaked from view of any passerby. The humans just saw a bunch of uninteresting ruins. Drew found herself wondering, if this were to continue to be her life as apparently it was before, would it be worth it to be unseen by the world?

She readjusted her long black ponytail as she let out an exasperated sigh. The soft breeze tried to soothe her as it danced across her dark skin.

A sniffling sound above startled her as she whipped around.

It was Eros sitting on the roof of one of the castle’s dormers. Drew squinted for a moment in the low light. His back was to her and massive feathered wings were curled up over his shoulders and head. His shoulders were slightly shaking.

She straightened her bulky cargo jacket and found an easy enough way to climb up. The old brick was strong under her hands and sneakers and she easily found handholds. In no time at all, she was sitting next to the winged man on the shingles.

“Are you crying?” Drew asked.

“Please,” his voice cracked against the word, “Don’t acknowledge it.”

“Yeesh, okay…” her own voice trailed off.

They sat like that for a while. Eros still crying and her staring off into the darkening countryside. The stars were very visible here and she could make out the faint outline of the milky way. Drew took the time to just sit and take in the view while she tried to process the day’s events.

After a few minutes, she felt eyes on her.

Eros was watching her. Her dark brown eyes met his blue ones and that little part of her soul ached again. She forced herself to look away.

“We were close,” Drew said. It wasn’t a question.

Eros nodded in her peripheral. She noticed his hand moved briefly to take hers, but stopped short.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember,” She said, though she wasn’t sure that was 100% true. Some part of her remembered him, she was sure.

“I can tell you. About how things were before,” His hopeful voice carried an accent that Drew couldn’t quite place. Greek maybe?

Drew nodded, accepting his offer.

They sat for hours as Eros told her about her previous life. In some ways it was quite similar to her current life. 

She was adopted as a child. Wanted to go to law school. Took a gap year in college to travel- that’s when the tornado swept her away both times. 

Bianca was her first friend because Bianca’s job as a Mythology Keeper for legends and spirits required her to keep in close contact. Eros was the second friend Drew had met in their world. They had fought sand demons in Egypt together not two hours after Drew’s transformation. Eros’ older brother, Ra, the king of all legends, had been wary of Drew at first but they too had grown to be friends.

The legend of chaos and war, Morrigan, had waged war against Mother Nature. The threat brought together legends from around the world. Drew’s group of friends specifically were vital in the war due to their proximity to Ra. They trained and fought together.

Drew suspected that Eros was leaving certain things out. Occasionally he would stutter and pause before taking up the story again in a different place. Nevertheless, she was enraptured by the tale of her adventures. She had fought Morrigan one on one multiple times. She was the one who had discovered Morrigan’s lair. She was quite the fighter, Eros emphasized, and scared the daylights out of anyone who tried to spar with her in training.

She had powers- like the rest of the legends. Strength and mastery over the wind. They had been trying to decipher which legend she was chosen to embody. She was Native American so they had decided to research Native legends. But then she died.

The story cut off suddenly and a new wave of tears sprung up in Eros’ eyes. His hand flew to his mouth and he looked away from Drew for the first time in hours.

Instinctually, her hand reached up to stroke the bend in Eros’ wing. Subconsciously or not, he leaned into the touch.

“You used to do that to comfort me,” he said around his hand.

“You don’t have to tell me the rest,” she whispered, “I mean, I just found out I had another life- and powers! You already told me more than I was hoping to learn.”

“N-no but I have to tell,” Eros half sobbed, “You need to understand. The guilt and sorrow I’ve felt for the past 25 years. I don’t age but my heart is… s-so heavy with those years.”

Drew removed her hand, and patiently waited for him to continue.

“It was me. You died… because of me,” he looked back at her. A fear in his eyes.

“What?” Drew’s brain tried again to process.

“I had died first. In the battle in the Himalayas,” Eros seemed in a trance as he spoke. Like he could no longer stop the words from coming out. Like he had kept this inside for so long that nothing could stop it from spilling over.

“Morrigan had killed me. I remember seeing the Olympians after I died. My mother and father. Then they told me it wasn’t my time and I came crashing back.” Eros could barely form the words around the cries trying to come out of his throat, but he forced his way forward in the story.

“When I woke up… there was a scar in my side from the healed wound. Ra was sobbing and holding me. I looked over and… and…” 

Drew’s heart was hammering in her chest, eyes wide. A memory sparked in her mind. Morrigan’s sword piercing Eros’ side. Eros falling and not getting up. Then some time later, Drew shaking hands with Morrigan. Then… nothing.

Eros continued, “You were limp in Bianca’s arms. She was yelling at you. Calling you stupid but she was crying. Ra told me he was sorry, he couldn’t stop you.”

Eros stopped, tears still flowing. He stared into Drew’s eyes now with an intensity that broke her heart.

“What happened?” She asked breathlessly after a moment of silence.

“You saved me, Drew. Morrigan offered you a… a deal. You gave your life for mine. I tried to crawl to your body but I was still weak and Ra wouldn’t let go of me. You disappeared before I could reach you…”

“But-” Drew stuttered, “But I’m alive. I didn’t die.”

“Didn’t you?” Eros said.

His hand, after being held back for so long, grasped Drew’s. His other hand cupped her face.

“Drew, I will forever be grateful for your sacrifice. Even if you can’t remember it.”

Drew must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights. 

“Why didn’t Morrigan just kill me?” She asked, desperate, “Why did she send me back as a baby? Why can’t I remember anything?”

“I don’t know- I don’t know,” Eros said, “But even as horrible as she is, I’m grateful for her mercy.”

Drew grabbed him into as tight of a hug as she could manage. He returned it tenfold, his powerful wings coming up to wrap around them as well. Only then did she allow herself to start crying. Everything that had been revealed to her that day, and only then was she crying. She mourned the life she had forgotten and the human life she was just taken from. She mourned Eros, but hugging his chubby frame grounded her, reminding her that he was right there. She was angry at Morrigan. No. Furious. Hell, she was even angry at Mother Nature. It was her war. Why should they be the ones to fight it?

After a while they peeled themselves out of the hug. They were both cried out and exhausted as the moon now shone overhead. Eros helped Drew down from the dormer and they walked back inside. Eros walked her to the room she shared with Bianca. The feeling of deja vu as they walked the halls was almost overwhelming.

Bianca opened the door when they arrived.

“I knew you were with her, Eros, but let’s not encourage her to ignore curfew like you do,” Bianca scolded before turning to Drew, “Come in, I have some pajamas for you.”

Drew nodded to her and Bianca walked back inside.

“Ra will be expecting me back in our room,” Eros said, moving to leave.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” Drew stopped him.

“Of course,” He said.

“Who were you to me?”

Eros paused, thinking, as they looked at each other. She noticed he had a sprinkle of freckles across his nose. Not as many as Bianca who was absolutely covered head to toe. Another memory popped into her mind and she knew that he had more freckles in the spot on his back between his wings.

“You know, that’s actually hard to say. I’m not… really sure,” Eros said, turning slightly red.

“Why?”

“We never talked about it.”

And with that, Eros left down the hall with a wink. Drew took a note of the gesture’s familiarity as she went inside the room. A part of her suspected he might be lying but she couldn’t think of a reason for him to do that... right?

Tonight she would sleep. And tomorrow… Dammit, tomorrow she would figure out how to win this war and regain the memories of her past life.

No one would stand in her way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing Prompts:

@promptsforthestrugglingauthor : #1363

“Are you crying?”

“Please,” their voice cracked against the word. “Don’t acknowledge it.”

@givethispromptatry :

“Who were you to me?”

“You know, that’s actually hard to say. I’m not really sure.”

“Why?”

“We never talked about it.”

Coffee is Delicious

Hubert x reader

Mentions of fighting/battles/death  Coffee beans are mutilated 

Your heart is pounding strong and steady as you continue to develop and perfect your lance skills while mounted on the back of your Pegasus. All members of the Black Eagles Strike Force hone their skills constantly, never knowing when they will be called to battle against their enemies. Rising with the sun, you consume a hearty protein filled breakfast followed immediately by sweat laden muscle building exercise. Allowing a brief cooldown while you drink plenty of water to compensate your body for the fluid loss, you then spar and develop your lance techniques.

Lunch is spent socializing with your friends as best you can. Mostly you observe them, too shy to comment or draw attention to yourself. Watching everyone laugh at Caspar’s antics, nodding while all are complimenting Dorothea on her latest opera performance, and hiding your snickers as they give Linhardt a difficult time for just being his obnoxious self.

The next several hours are invested in your magical development. Practicing lower level spells, learning new spells, building your casting abilities and increasing your focus and concentration. Next you are sprinting to the stables for Pegasus or horseback riding. Finally, you clean up, have a light dinner and spend time with friends, or continue research.

If you check the dictionary for the word Shyness, there is a picture of you hiding behind a book and Bernie hiding behind you. Carrying on a conversation with a single person is manageable for you. A war council meeting with 10 or more people? You can manage to be present at the meeting. Participation is out of the question. Entering the room, you take a seat, placing your hands and notebook in your lap. Visibly above the table only your eyes and head move to the direction of the person speaking. Copious amounts of notes fill the pages of the notebook. Thoughts, perceptions, even recommendations on how to carry out tasks that are brought up at the meeting. After a meeting one day when the only two remaining in the room consist of you and Hubert, he asks to see your notes. He is quite aware of your hesitancy to address a group.

“These are excellent observations. Why did you not bring them up during the meeting?” The dark mage inquires, already knowing the answer.

“I, uh, did not want to interrupt. I just…” your voice fades to silence and you can only focus on your notebook on the table.

“May I suggest that you sit next to me during tomorrow’s meeting.” Hubert begins, “If you will allow me to discretely view your annotations, I will offer your thoughts in such a way that no attention or scrutiny will be directed towards yourself.”

“Sure.” You shrug. Not that you would ever disagree with him. You have heard Emperor Edelgard state too many times that Hubert is an extension of herself and any order or direction from him is the same as if she had proclaimed it herself.

Hubert rises and dismisses you. Skittering to your room you drop your book, fall lengthwise on the bed, smash your pillow into your face and scream. Hubert, your crush, noticed you. He appreciates some of your observations and you are invited to sit next to him. It takes you a few minutes to get your breathing under control and the flush to fade from your face.

Quickly throwing on your sparring garb, you run out to meet with Ferdinand for lance practice. Both of you obtain a healthy, challenging workout as he also educates you on the finer points of his presentation that he had made during the council meeting. You actively banter with him, bringing up some notable flaws and considerations which he appreciates and will review your logical points.  

The Strike Force is embroiled in a particularly rough battle close to the Oghma Mountains. The air is cooler there to begin with, however with it being Guardian Moon with temperatures below freezing, the winds tear through your clothes like frozen daggers of ice as you fly on your Pegasus. The close knit group is responding to the reports of a large quantity of enemy forces entering into Varley territory.

Your coal black steed swoops low, hooves barely clearing the ground as you direct your lance into the chest of an enemy cavalier. Just as the winged steed is directed to head back into the skies, an enemy mage strikes with a flash of purple light blinding your vision. An experienced flier such as yourself should have no problem hanging on, however the frigid temperatures combined with flying at dizzying heights and speeds have allowed the unforgiving chill of the weather into your limbs, your hands too numb to firmly grip your saddle, you are thrown from the back of your steed. The screams of dying soldiers the last thing you hear before you lose consciousness.

 There is no camp as they planned to arrive, fight, and return. The Empire’s Elite forces decide to detour further into Varley territory, where roads are better constructed and Inns are not too difficult to find.

You are carried from the field after the battle concludes. The healers asses your condition. A concussion and aftereffects of being struck by black magic. Your resistance has greatly improved since the academy days and you will recover without any permanent damage.  

Traversing the fields and undeveloped countryside on horseback is slow because several riders have to double up. Ferdinand offers to carry your unconscious form, however he has injuries of his own to care for. Hubert mounts his mages warhorse and is assisted with securing your unconscious form in front of him. He wraps his large cape around the both of you to assist in conserving warmth between you. Your Pegasus is given to another rider more accustomed to traversing at great heights, they scan the countryside and lead the way to safety.

The exhaustion from battle washes over everyone as they ride with little conversation heading east, eagerly anticipating a warm meal and soft bed for the evening.

Hubert checks your positioning, your back leaned up against his chest, your cheek pushed tight against his sternum.  

A soft voice mumbles from within his cape. “Yumm. Smells so good. Coffee.”  

The hand around your waist shifts slightly. “Shhh. Rest. You have a concussion.”

You snuggle closer to him in your haze. “Hubert’s voice is so deep and sexy. Mmmm.”

The dark mage’s eyes cast about him, nobody appears to be close enough to hear you but him.

The horse jostles you both as it steps into a dip of the ground and he tightens his grip around your waist.

“I want to have coffee with him. Stare into his gorgeous chartreuse eyes. Delicious.” You murmur.

The troops finally meet up with the road, the travel now much quicker with even ground for the horses to traverse. Hubert rooms with the Emperor while you are in a room with Linhardt and a few other injured soldiers.

 You arise quite early in the morning, having slept through much of the ride here. Running down to the stables you check your Pegasus, relieved that he is quite healthy. Heading back inside you grab breakfast and a large coffee, finding a quiet corner to sit and try to recall what happened that led you to finding yourself here.

A few others of your group are scattered about the room. You half-listen in on their conversations. You take your dishes back to the counter and obtain a refill. As you return to your seat, you are followed by Hubert.

“Might I join you?” he requests as he stands across the table.

“Absolutely.” You quietly answer as he takes the seat across from you. The coffee is too hot to drink, you wrap both hands around the cup, warming your fingers nicely.

“Are you feeling better today?” Hubert asks, bringing his drink to his lips for a sip.

Your eyes are riveted on his. You realize that you are gazing at him far too intensely, suddenly you’re looking away and breaking out in an embarrassing blush. “Yes. A bit of a headache. I feel much warmer. I recall the cold was getting the best of me. I should have stayed on the ground when my fingers started becoming numb. I hope I did not cause any major problems.” Bringing your cup to your lips, the coffee is still boiling hot. How can he drink it like that?

“Not at all.” He smiles, taking another sip.

The room begins to fill with the rest of their group. Linhardt sits next to Hubert, placing his plate filled with sweet rolls and cup of tea onto the table. “I can’t wait to get back and get some proper sleep.” The healer frowns. “Someone talks in their sleep and wouldn’t stop rambling about coffee all night long.” The cleric’s green eyes drill holes into you. You weakly smile as you raise your cup to cover your face and hide behind it. You sort of know you talk in your sleep, but this is the first time someone understood what you said. Mostly you were told you mumble. Just another reason to hide away and keep to yourself.

 The journey back to Enbarr is uneventful and quiet. Your Pegasus is not exactly thrilled to be grounded most of the way back, however the weather is cold and you do not wish to be chilled so soon again. Arriving home, you slip back into your regular routine, working on your muscles and skills. The weather is cold, wet and dreary, you must forgo riding for several afternoons.

Heading to the kitchen you decide a cup of coffee would be the perfect warmup on this chilly day. As you enter the always busy room, the cooks are bustling about, preparing the meat and vegetables for the next meal. As you finish preparing your drink, pouring it through a clean cloth filter, Hubert arrives to obtain yet another cup of his favorite caffeinated beverage. With too many people around you don’t speak, but you do wave to greet him.

“Afternoon.” The dark haired mage grumbles. “The weather is cold and miserable. Best for staying indoors by a warm fire.”

You nod slowly, gripping your cup firmly.

“There is a decent fire in the library should you need further assistance in combating the weather’s chill.” He says before the noise of grinding his coffee beans makes talking impractical.

You nod as you leave, heading to your room.

 You mull over Hubert’s suggestion to sit by a warm fire instead of freezing under your blanket in your cold and damp room. Summoning your courage, you decide it is to your benefit to seek a warmer location while you are studying, no matter who or how many others may be occupying the room. Turning the corner to where the fireplace is located in the library, you are surprised that only Hubert is here, occupying one of the more comfortable chairs in the room. The smell of the burning hardwood fills the room, adding to the warmth of the blazing flames. The other occupant does not raise his head from his reading as you sink into an overplush chair that comfortably hugs you. The upholstery is warm, immediately making you feel secure and relaxed. Placing your still warm coffee cup on the arm of the chair you open your reading material to where the bookmark holds your place. Concentrating on your book, you only raise your eyes to reflect on a particular passage or to imagine the depths and runes of the spell you are studying.

Reading a particular dark magic spell you look to the other spellcaster in the room. Your mind conjures up the last time you observed him cast this spell, perfect concentration reflected in his face. His posture is immaculate, leaning slightly forward, his right arm fully extended creating the runes consummately while his voice deeply and powerfully orders the incantation. The purple luster of magic gathering in front of him, quickly growing in magnitude and power as the spell bursts forth, striking and eliminating the enemy. Unconsciously you let out a sigh of awe.

“Pardon?” suddenly his eyes are focused on you, his brows raised.

“Your spellcasting is fabulously perfect.” The words are out of your mouth before you realize you had said them out loud. Your cheeks burn with the heat of a blush as you desperately resist the urge to bury your face in the pages before you.

“Thank you.” He muses.

Both parties return to their reading, the only sound in the room is the occasional page turning and the popping and crackling of the fire.

A throat clearing ahead of you draws your attention from your book.

“Should you wish to further your development of your reason magic skills, I humbly offer my assistance.” Hubert proposes for your consideration, not looking up from his reading.

“To increase my abilities aiding the cause toward our Emperors victory, I accept your proposition.” You smile widely.

There is the slightest smile that flashes across Hubert’s lips that you are thrilled to bear witness to.

 Hubert joins you in the spellcasting section of the training grounds when he finds the time. Your stomach flips every time he touches you to correct your arm position, your stance, standing behind you to watch your rune manipulation. By the time he leaves to head to his next appointment you are tomato red and breathless.

 Today is one of your longer learning sessions and quite productive. After dinner, you decide to retire to the Library to procure a book Hubert recommends that covers additional spells and manipulation of runes. The two comfy chairs are taken by others, thus you make do with alternate seating on the couch that faces the fireplace directly. Placing your coffee cup on the end table you open the tome and become immediately immersed in its contents. The other occupants of the Library leave without your notice.

Hubert greets you as he enters the room. Taking a seat on the other end of the couch, he places his coffee on the end table, opens his book and begins reading.

After reading quietly for nearly an hour you are deep into the section dissecting rune manipulation and you find there are a few passages that are not quite make sense to you. You stop to take a sip of your now very cold coffee, nearly choking on the nasty liquid.

Hubert looks over to you. “Are you all right?”

“Cold coffee.” You stammer and catch your breath. “Actually, I have a question about this section here…” You say, holding the book between you, scooting a bit closer to him as you point out the section. The dark haired mage slides next to you so that you both can review the passage. He carefully explains the runes, their order and how the instruction of the manipulation contributes to the verbal incantation thus giving the magical energy and power to the spell.

Everything suddenly clicks. Smiling brightly in your frenzied joy, you turn to Hubert and give him a peck on his cheek.

Your gasp as your eyes go wide as realization hits you regarding your most recent action.        

Hubbert’s gloved fingers gently grasp the side of your jaw, turning your face toward him again. “I think you meant…” he hums as his lips gently meet yours in a soft kiss. You grab his lapels, keeping your lips pressed together until you find the need to breathe again.

He slides his arm around your shoulder as you lean into his chest.

Hubert presses his lips to the crown of your head. “I find you delicious as well.”  

Admire | 04

Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff

Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.

Warnings: Brief mentions of semi-absent parents

Word Count: 2k

A/N:  Hey there, this is just a short chapter I decided to post as a bridge to the next part of the story-line. Hope you enjoy :)

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“I know that you’re living a different life now (Y/n), but you still can’t skip out on the annual summer road trip,” your mother’s voice chided. You held the phone away from your ear slightly to avoid bursting your own eardrums.

“But - am I just meant to go on my own and leave the house? The road trips aren’t exactly meant for…”

You trailed off with a weird strangled noise in your throat, knowing that saying ‘people like him’ would only sound bad. Seokjin looked up at the changing tone of your voice, eyeing you with an intense curiosity. There was no way he didn’t pick up that it was him you were referring to.

You had been sitting together at the dining table, feasting on an old-style Italian pasta dish you’d decided to whip up right before your mother called. It was one of the only times you two had actually eaten together since getting married, as you usually just ordered food whenever you were hungry or ate out somewhere his driver would take you.

You had just been shocked that the stoic man agreed to share what you’d made in the first place.

“He can come along, no worries. I’ve already told the guide that you’d be bringing your husband anyway, since I just assumed he’d go with you,” your mother said in a dismissive tone, seemingly distracted on the other end.

Shit, right. We’re meant to be in love.

“Okay, but it’s going to be pretty different to what we’ve been doing so far.” You sighed, thinking about all the high-class parties you’d attended in the last few months, twirling some pasta around your fork absent-mindedly. Seokjin was going to be way out of his element here.

“Then it’s settled, you leave in a couple of days. Remember the meeting spot?”

“Yes, Mum. Bye then.”

You hung up the phone and sunk back into the chair across from Seokjin, exchanging his look with one fizzling with tension. Not one of you had touched your food since you took the call.

“You going to tell me what that was about?” he hummed after eventually moving to swallow down the last of his meal with a satisfied sigh.

“Yeah, just trying to figure out how to tell you.”

He seemed a tad concerned, but didn’t push any further. You sat and brooded with your thoughts for another minute or so before running your hands slowly through your hair in exasperation. You could almost laugh at how strange this was going to be for him.

“Okay so we do this thing every year, although my parents don’t usually go, where our extended family and friends have a summer road trip out to the countryside and sometimes stop by the beach. It’s kind of like a break from the busy lives they all lead, and it’s … such a big difference from their wealthy lifestyles,” you explained, not catching any change in facial expression from the handsome man across from you.

“So … I used to tag along because like you just heard, my mother nags me to go, and the trips always turned out being not half bad. If anything, I enjoyed getting out and seeing the different ways of life the people there lived. It was a nice change of scenery too.”

You realized you were ranting and cleared your throat, pushing your half empty bowl away from you. Seokjin looked like he was pondering again, but you were already guessing the thought of a road trip probably put him off terribly.

“Look, my mother said you’d come along but no one’s going to force you. It’s just a getaway thing that lasts for a couple of weeks, I wouldn’t be gone for too long. Maybe you could attend a party or ball by yourself for once, it’d make everything much easier for you-”

“I’ll go.”

You blinked at him in shock, but he only gazed back with a spark of interest flashing in his dark eyes. The raw emotion was such a rarity for him that you had to blink again to snap out of the awed emotion that was now warming up your cheeks.

“You will?” you squeaked, hating how high your voice had pitched itself.

“Yeah, I don’t want life to get boring. I’ve never done something like this, so I’ll see how it goes,” he replied simply, a small smile resting on his lips as he took in your expression alighting with appreciation. Was he always this adventurous? Maybe deep down, there were sides to this man you had yet to discover.

“Well, we leave in a couple of days. I can tell the driver the meeting location and everything… uh, are you sure?”

“Yes, (Y/n).”

You got up from your seat and swept up your dishes, feeling an odd excitement flood your whole chest at the prospect of going on a retreat with Seokjin. Getting to spend some time with the man who was slowly but surely warming up to you was such a promising idea. Plus, lately you’d been wanting to get closer to him. Your need for pure company was becoming overwhelming.

You wanted your own husband to be the person you could turn to when you needed attention … but after giving it too much thought, you knew that there was no way he’d care enough to want to put up with that. It was borderline foolish of you.

“So, you didn’t really go on many holidays?” you probed quietly after rinsing the bowls. He’d shifted himself from the table to one of the kitchen stools to watch you work. You felt oddly comfortable under his searching gaze, even if you did look quite average in your tracksuit pants and simple white tee.

“If my father’s business trips count?” Seokjin snorted in dry humour. You could tell he was legitimately curious about the whole road trip thing, which was so baffling to you considering he’d barely tried to ask you about your life at all.

“Well, what did you do on those trips?”

You wiped your dripping hands on a dish cloth and sat across from him, only the sparkling white benchtop separating the two of you. You had been spending a fair amount time in this position during the past week or so, and it filled you with joy having these longer interactions with him whenever it happened.

“My father would take my brothers and I when we were younger to his workplaces. Teaching us his ways and getting us prepared for when we would take on jobs at the firm. My mother did her own thing, but would only talk to us about what we’d done that day. Maybe there was the occasional shopping trip for new clothes, but both parents were busy most of the time,” he said rather sourly.

Seokjin was obviously tired of having to spend so much of his life pleasing his own mother and father. You couldn’t have imagined how repetitive it all must have been, then again you didn’t really know what it was like spending time with your own parents in the first place.

“Can you tell me what you used to do, then?” he asked suddenly. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, because he was asking about you, but then you felt bad for painting him in such a bad light. He wasn’t a terrible person; he just hadn’t engaged this much before. That’s why you were taken so off guard when he looked at you straight in the eyes and asked you the question so calmly.

“Um, yeah of course.” You smiled as the feeling of warmth enveloped your very soul, “So… since I never went on business travels with my parents, the only form of a holiday I ever experienced were these trips. They helped me relax and took my mind away from everything.”

You breathed out deeply at the memory of the countryside breeze, and the feeling of the piping hot beach sand crunching underneath your toes. You could only imagine the feeling of the sun’s rays kissing your skin as Seokjin watched in a mildly fascinated state.

“We’d travel as a large group in separate motorhomes – by the way we’ll most likely get one to ourselves – and stop in many small towns along the way. We’d go on walks and find lovely spots to eat lunch, and we’d visit special lookouts along with other cool cultural sites. The best thing was when you got the day to just venture through the place on your own, doing whatever you wanted and exploring the country.”

You unclasped your hands and let your voice die in your throat, not wanting to subject the man to more of your wistful reminiscing. He was hearing all about memories you held close to your heart, because throughout your school years the travelling was what’d kept your mind relaxed and stress-free.

“Sounds like it’ll be interesting for me. You said we’ll be given a motorhome, so we’re the ones driving?” he questioned quietly, almost as if he didn’t expect you to cut yourself off so soon.

“Yeah, I grew up with that brand of vehicle so I can do most of the driving. I’ve got my license,” you assured, barely stifling a giggle as you recalled memories of learning how to drive a motorhome for the first time.

“We can take turns,” he replied shortly, raising a strong eyebrow at you as if daring you to challenge him. You nodded in a slight daze of shock.

So you can drive too, huh.

You never would have guessed, after knowing that the handsome man had been chauffeured around basically his whole life. What need would he even have for a driver’s license?

“Well, I’m going to bed. I’ll start packing for this trip, just let me know if I need anything else,” Seokjin announced with a grunt as he slid off the chair and made his way around the bench to stand before you. He was dressed pretty casually as well, with a light blue button-up shirt hanging over grey trousers, but he still looked so unfairly tasteful.

“The only thing I’ll really say is just bring casual, but comfortable clothes. Oh, and a hat or cap if you have one,” you said, feeling giddy with anticipation for the holiday already. He nodded to acknowledge the advice, resting his weight onto one foot and pursing his thick lips as he thought about if he did, in fact, own a hat.

“Goodnight then,” you spoke after feeling something strange wash over you. This random urge to show him how elated you truly were. Your steps were bouncy and full of life, similar to the fitful pounding of your heart that felt full to the brim.

You stepped forward and placed your hands upon his crossed arms, then stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his smooth cheek. He didn’t jerk away or tell you off, just stood rigidly still for a few seconds before leaving the room to head to bed. It was only after he was gone that it finally hit you.

No way… did I just do that? Did I actually just freaking do that?

Your face erupted into a fiery crimson blush and you almost slammed your head down into the benchtop below you. All the couple-like actions you both performed at the parties must have made themselves a habit of yours, and since you’d been feeling so happy the desire to kiss him just leapt out.

“Idiot, oh my God,” you whimpered to yourself, busying your hands by cleaning the rest of the kitchen in a hurry. The fact that he hadn’t said a single thing scared you. Did he hate it? Or did he like it, or did he just not care? There was no way of knowing!

You scurried off to your room and heard the door shut behind you a little louder than normal. Your embarrassment was flowing thickly through your veins at this point. You just needed to bury your head under the covers and forget that the whole thing happened.

It wouldn’t take long for him to forget, right?

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

In The Darkness Chapter 81 - The Deathly Hallows

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 2,638

Summary: The trio seek help finding the horcruxes.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Spring bled in slowly with April snowfall punctuated by bright sunny days. The last snow clung to frigid grass mounds and the hilltops, but the brightness of daffodils signalled that winter was over.

Yato explained the vision he had when the locket was destroyed; the feathered metal of some sort of tiara with a large blue gem in its center. The only clue they had to its location was Hogwarts.

“Perhaps it's Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem?” Hiyori suggested. “We thought that the horcruxes were linked to the founder's items in some way, maybe this is the next one?”

Yato nodded in agreement. The visions had let up slightly, but he felt a shift now. The Sorcerer must have felt the horcrux being destroyed; it was part of his soul, after all. It was all beginning to fall apart, piece by piece, revealing the location of each part of his soul, and he was powerless to stop it.

Something inside Yato thrummed with urgency, whether it was the nervousness of being traced or the excitement of final destroying a horcrux, he could not tell.

The next horcrux in their sights was Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet, but that presented a new challenge. Its location was shrouded in mystery, and the jewels and gems that filled it in Yato’s vision offered no clues.

After moving camp for the third time that week, they settled into the chilling afternoon sun and ate dinner. The radio filled the air with the latest updates – not that there were many to begin with over the last couple of weeks. Kazuma’s tinny voice rang out around them, crackled every now and then by the poor signal. The usual list of the dead and snatched and Wanted rang out, but there seemed to be no new restrictions or laws.

Perhaps the Sorcerer had implemented everything he wanted, Yato mused.

“We – I – hope that you are keeping safe during these times. W- I have nothing new to report on the Ministry’s activities, but I will update you as soon as we – I know.”

Yato scrunched his nose before digging into his food. He’d never heard Kazuma blunder so much when speaking unless Bishamon was involved, but it seemed she hadn’t joined him for some time. He wondered if Kazuma had even found a job, as the radio show seemed to be taking up so much of his time nowadays. Then again, not many employers would want to take on an illegal radio show host working against the Ministry of Magic in the first place.

“Thank you for listening. Yato, Yukine, Hiyori, wherever you are, whatever you need, you know where I am,” Kazuma signed off with the usual spiel he’d adopted in the last few months. The radio clattered for a second with a few mumbles before a click sounded, leaving the radio static.

They sat for a moment in silence, eating, before Yukine spoke.

“Do you think we should try contacting Kofuku?” Yukine asked.

Yato shot him a look, spooning stew into his mouth. “Why?”

Yukine shrugged. “She might know more about the goblet and the diadem if it disappeared when she was a student, or she can find out for us in the archives. Any clues would help.”

Yato made a face. It was a good idea, but with a large problem. “How could we contact her? We can’t go to her, and I don’t have Coo Phone.”

“It should be Easter break now; we might be able to reach her without anyone knowing,” Hiyori chimed in. Yukine nodded his agreement; it was already mid-April, so most teachers and students would have gone home for the holidays.

“What about Kazuma? He knows what’s going on, hell, he probably knows where they are,” Yukine suggested, pointing at the crackling radio. “He’s been saying that if we need help, we can go to him. Do you know where he lives?”

“Somewhere in Devon. A secluded, countryside mansion his parents rarely stay at as they’re away working for MACUSA,” Yato recalled, putting his bowl on the ground by his chair. “I went there once and broke his toilet. Never got invited back.”

“I wonder why,” Yukine said dryly. “Well, Kazuma should be able to get a message to Kofuku. Maybe we could arrange a meeting somewhere?”

“Could do,” Yato agreed. “We’ll just have to work out a way for her to get the message back to us.”

“Ok then,” Hiyori said, turning off the radio static. “Next stop, Kazuma.”

~

They packed up camp and Apparated at the closest village to Kazuma’s house. Shouldering their backpacks, Yato, Hiyori and Yukine made their way through the winding roads that led them into the countryside. Past the fields of cows and dilapidated barns, they came to a stately gate bordered by trees and two Griffin statues, though one was missing half of its head. The gates original purpose seemed to have failed to keep trespassers from entering through the buckled railings.

They started up the path, hugging the treeline until the house came into view. Kazuma’s house was indeed a mansion, though parts of it seemed to be crumbling along with the rest of the grounds. Hiyori and Yukine exchanged glances as Yato made his way up the path; it felt too exposed for them to just walk right up to the front door. Any worries they had weren’t shared by Yato as he looked back and waved them forward.

The front door was framed by a tangle of ivy that worked its way up and around the windows, spreading like a disease over the grand house. It seemed there was a hole in the roof judging by the protruding pigeon's nest overhanging them, the tiles charred by a small fire.

Yato rapped the bronze knocker three times, and almost instantly Hiyori saw a curtain twitch in the window. The door opened slowly, and a green framed eye appeared in the crack.

Yato smiled. “Surprise?”

The door swung open and Kazuma stood before them, haggard and unkempt, mouth open.

“You came,” Kazuma gawked.

Hiyori and Yukine once again shared puzzled looks, and Yato looked over his shoulder with a quizzical smile. “Is that ok? We’ve been listening to the radio-.”

“No, no! it's fine! Great! Come in!” Kazuma gushed. A grin had taken over his face, wider than they’d ever seen, giving him the appearance of a madman.

The house was even worse inside. It appeared he had no need for cleaning with no guests, but the state of the kitchen peaking at them from the end of the hallway was worrying. Kazuma led them to what should have been a dining room, but it was too full of newspapers and radio equipment to see a table beneath it. A small desk sat by the window, bathed in grey sunlight that filtered through the torn net curtain. On it sat a radio, a microphone, and two sets of headphones.

They avoided touching anything as they picked their way through the debris before stopping in the middle of the room.

“Were you born in a barn?” Yukine grumbled to himself, but it went ignored.

“We’ve followed your radio show,” Yato explained. “And we need a favour. You’re the only one who can help.”

Kazuma nodded, his smile slipping slightly and a troubled frown coming into his brow.

“We were hoping you could get a message to the Order,” Yato said. “We know what the next horcrux is, but we need some help tracking it down.”

“Yes, yes,” Kazuma murmured, though it seemed he wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes kept sliding to the window as if worried someone would burst in and find Public Enemies One, Two, and Three all in his house.

“Do you have an owl?” Yukine asked.

“Yes.”

There was a pause. No one moved. Kazuma fiddled with his thumbs, looking out the window.

Yato cocked his head slightly. “Could you… get it?”

Kazuma snapped out of his thoughts at the suggestion. He nodded and left the room.

Yato shook his head and began riffling through the bits of parchment that had taken over the table. “I think he’s lost without Hogwarts. Too much time away from Bishamon and books. Try and find a pen.”

Yukine and Hiyori set about diving through the rubbish in search of something to write with. At the back of the house, they could hear Kazuma rummaging around, shortly followed by a soft owl hoot and a ruffle of feathers.

Yukine looked around, noticing that two chairs had been pulled away from the table to huddle around the makeshift radio station. There was a mug and plate growing mold in the window sill, but the other mug was fresh with coffee. It seemed odd since Kazuma was the only one home.

There was more scraping – from their search as they found and handed a pen to Yato – and from the kitchen as a door opened and closed. Yato scribbled out a note, detailing that they needed to find what happened to Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet.

“Look at this,” Hiyori said. They turned to look at her, seeing she held a battered copy of the Daily Prophet, dated to only a few months ago. The headline read ‘TENJIN’S GRAVE DISTURBED’.

Yato frowned. “Why would anyone break into his grave?”

Yukine shrugged, waiting for Hiyori to stop skimming the pages for answers, but none came. They heard footsteps in the hall, and Yato turned to ask Kazuma.

“Kazuma, what happened…” Yato started, but then Kazuma rounded the corner and stood in the doorway. They looked at him and his empty hands. All thoughts of the Daily Prophet slipped from their minds.

“Where’s the owl?” Yato asked.

Kazuma blinked at him. Had he forgotten to bring it? What had he been doing?

“She’s sleeping,” Kazuma answered, but the lie was flimsy.

They looked at him for a long, unsettling moment. The Kazuma they knew didn’t act like this. He didn’t live like this, or look as disturbed in the eyes as he did at this moment. Yukine’s eyes slid back to the pairs he’d noticed in the room. Two mugs. Two plates. Two chairs. Two headphones.

One person.

“Who else is here, Kazuma?” Yukine asked lowly. His hand was already reaching for his wand, and the flicker of Kazuma’s eyes told him he noticed.

“What do you mean? It’s just us,” Kazuma said, hands splayed.

The silence of the house confirmed it, but it still set them on edge. Something – someone – was amiss.

Hiyori’s voice cut through the tension. “Where’s Bishamon?”

Yato turned his head to look at Hiyori. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, eyes ablaze. Just like Yukine, she’d noticed the extra items.

Kazuma stammered for words. “W-what do you mean?”

“I know she has been living here. Your parents are in America, but there are two mugs out and two chairs around that radio. Wasn’t Bishamon doing the radio show with you until recently?” Hiyori replied.

Yato looked back at Kazuma. She was right. Bishamon had been a regular guest on the show, recanting Quidditch tales and the like, but she was nowhere in sight. It had been months since they’d heard her, and it looked like it had just been Kazuma for a while.

“Where is Bishamon, Kazuma?” Yato asked lowly.

“I had to,” Kazuma said shakily. “I had to bring you here.”

Yato pulled his wand from his pocket in sync with Hiyori and Yukine. “Why have you brought us here?”

“They said they’d kill her –,” Kazuma started.

“You tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor, didn’t you?” Yukine cut in.

Kazuma whirled at the question, eyes frightened behind his glasses at the mention of it.

“A while back, you said the Sword of Gryffindor was moved to a safe location,” Yukine continued. “It’s because you tried to steal it, wasn’t it?”

Kazuma nodded after a moment. “Madame Kofuku told us about the will, and how the Sword of Gryffindor was meant to go to you. We tried to steal it using the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement-.”

“We?” Hiyori pressed.

“Me and Bishamon.”

“What happened?” Yato asked.

Kazuma stammered silently for a moment, mouth opening and closing. “We got caught. Oshi, all those Deatheaters… they tortured us, to find where you were. When they realised we didn’t know, they sent me back to catch you… They… they took Viina-.”

Kazuma broke off in a choke, hand pressed to his mouth.

“Where’s the owl, Kazuma?” Yato growled, but he already knew. It would be at the Ministry by now.

“I’m sorry!” Kazuma choked. “I couldn’t leave her to die!”

“Yato!” Hiyori’s warning rose. Dark figures blurred by the window, the rush of black robes caught in the wind as they sailed past the house.

“Shit!” Yukine swore, raising his wand to the window. “Kazuma, you bastard!”

“Out!” Yato roared above the blubbering mess Kazuma had become, begging for forgiveness, begging for understanding, but Yato wouldn’t hear it.

He pushed Yukine and Hiyori out of the dining room and down the hallway to the kitchen. The front door shattered to pieces behind them with a red flash and they heard Kazuma scream. Yukine pressed his back against the wall next to the back door, and Hiyori ducked low against the counter, peering beneath the window drapes to see the swirling figures on broomsticks.

“Stupefy!” Yato cursed a Deatheater as they stepped into the threshold of the house, but he could see more running up to take his place.

Yato slammed the door shut and pressed his back to it, swearing under his breath. He looked to Hiyori. She looked back, terrified.

“We have to go. Now!” Hiyori hissed.

Yato caught Yukine’s eye and nodded. He reached for the door handle and flung it open, and Yato burst outside in a wave of curses that returned tenfold at him. The house opened up into a wide field with a sky of Deatheaters above it, and beyond it, a forest.

He didn’t need to look back to know that Hiyori and Yukine were hot on his heels, sprinting across the stretch and deflecting spells more than they could send them. Deatheaters advanced and swooped at them, fingers just missing their hair and clothes as they staggered to the edge of the wood, slipping down the muddy trails and over tree roots deeper into the thicket.

Spells hit and scorched trees as they weaved their way through the woods, heaving and panting, stumbling, and tripping. Flashes of red and blue lit the woods ahead of them, the crunches of feet on bracken behind them telling them that the Deatheaters were now persuading on foot. Whoops and shouts rose, calling directions and strategies that were lost on the wind that whistled past their ears as they blindly stumbled through the woods, unable to reach each other to Disapparate.

Hiyori stumbled down a slope, a clearing opening up before her where more voices could be heard. Panting hard, she just barely heard approaching footsteps behind her, and Yukine’s shout.

Hiyori spun, wide-eyed as she realised Yukine had been Snatched. It was of little relief when she saw Yato cresting the slope, throwing glances back over his shoulder and running at full pelt towards her. Hiyori realised with a sickening dread that there was no way out ahead or behind. If they caught Yato it was game over…

But what if they didn’t know it was Yato?

Hiyori had no time for thought as she raised her wand. The Stinging Jinx hit Yato square in the face and he fell backward like he had hit a wall. A pained grunt slowly escaped his swelling lips, and Hiyori said a silent apology.

Above the crest, Hiyori saw the Deatheaters and Yukine – bound by Incarcerous – in tow.

They had been Snatched.

There was a prompt by @frances-the-red:

Oh no! Geralt lost his engagement ring! 😱 What happened and how is the godling Hansi involved? (Just a silly little prompt if you ever become bored. Love your writing! 🧡)

I changed the engagement ring to wedding ring because there has never actually been an engagement, let’s just say that’s not a Nilfgaard custom ;) Also, I changed Hansi to the more common Johnny. I think nobody will understand the joke anyway and English-speaking gamers just know him by this name. Hansi is his name in the german dubbing (which is the same as Johnny) and that happens to be the name of my favorite Heavy Metal singer, too. And I love that you prompted me with it :)

One last thing: I had to alter the outcome of a specific Witcher 3 quest for this. Usually, Sarah only meets Johnny if you throw her out of the house where Corinne meets her. So for this story, let’s just assume it went a bit different. 

Enough babbling! This one is called “A seeker enthralled by a flame” (Avantasia lyrics this time), read under the cut or on AO3. 5330 words, rated G.

   The second of waking up, Geralt realized something was fundamentally wrong.

This had nothing to do with the fact that dull rays of the sun shining through the curtains indicated morning was already advanced. Nothing to do with him waking up in a foreign bed. Or that half of his body was hanging out, as if it missed the habit of a much larger bed. All of this was not unusual. So what was it? When his eyes opened, Geralt immediately knew where he was (in Novigrad), what he had been doing the night before (getting drunk with Dandelion and Zoltan out of pure reunion), and why he was here (a contract, of course, and this was a stopover on the way back).

Nothing of all this was wrong. What he could see of the room without moving his head (possibly one too many beers) was normal. A guest room at the Chameleon, furnished with Dandelion's somewhat exuberant taste and clearly refined by Priscilla's hand; fresh flowers and fruit on a sideboard. The fingertips of Geralt's right hand brushed wood. It took him a moment to realize that his arm was hanging out of the bed, touching the floor. The floor felt normal, as did his body, which was slowly waking up and painfully reminding him that he needed to pee.

But he was not ready yet. His mind was still trying to trace this feeling, even if it might well have been only a vague thought from a dream. Lost in thought, he involuntarily began tapping a kind of rhythm on the floor, an odd imitation of what Emhyr did when he became impatient. And then he understood. An ice-cold feeling ran through his abdomen, and the natural need was gone.

The ring was missing.

Hastily Geralt raised his hand, straightening in the bed, bringing his fingers close to his face, staring. His ring finger had a small, light-colored indentation, an imprint that made it even more evident that something was missing. His wedding ring was gone. Against better judgment, Geralt jumped out of bed and carefully examined the floor; he even crawled under the bed, checked every crack, combed the whole room.

It was simply easier to assume that the ring had slipped off his finger (it sat perfectly, he never took it off, not even when he put on gloves and went into battle) than to believe someone had dared to steal it from him. That was ridiculous. Stealing from a witcher? In one of the hottest establishments in town (a fucking wicked, disgusting town full of disgusting subjects, well). Even drunk as he had been last night, that was not possible. Who would dare to enter his room without him noticing (impossible) and pull a ring off his finger?

It was undoubtedly a valuable piece, but the silver... Geralt's eyes immediately darted to the wall next to the bed, although he had long known what he would see. The swords were still there, leaning neatly against the wall in their scabbards.

That didn't make any sense. Who would steal a ring when there were two swords whose common material value was significantly higher? Indeed, the blades were almost unsaleable – no merchant in his right mind would buy witchers' swords, especially those whose engraved runes were more than clearly traceable to the owner. Nevertheless, Geralt hurriedly began to check the rest of his equipment. The armor, the saddlebags... everything was there; nothing was missing.

Geralt sat down on the bed, resting his slightly aching skull on his hands. Had he perhaps lost the ring during the evening? Or – even worse – had he, in a frenzy, agreed to use the piece as a prize in a game of Gwent? He was notorious (well, in the eyes of a certain man at least) for occasionally doing idiotic things, but Geralt thought something like that was out of the question.

Besides, he didn't want to imagine that possibility because it would have meant that, in a few days, he would have had to confront his husband to tell him he had lost the ring. The symbol of their love come true, the flame that he always carried with him like the one in his heart....

"Silly. And you're hyperventilating."

There wasn't really a voice in his head, but he could imagine it very well (and that was very close to what Emhyr would actually say before he found out the ring was gone). Besides, the voice was right. Geralt took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. If the idea of being robbed seemed absurd, at least there was a way to find out if it was valid. All he had to do was focus on possible clues in the room. However, that was easier said than done; after all, he was in Novigrad, in a much-frequented house – supposedly the most popular in the whole city. Looking for traces in this room was like telling a dog to search through a massive pile of shit to find out if his best friend had been there.

The same was true for the smell. However, chance aided him – this room didn't seem to be used quite as often. Perhaps Dandelion indeed did keep it only for friends at all times, or maybe he exaggerated his establishment's popularity. In any case, most of the traces and smells that Geralt's senses picked up were older and not of concern. Quite clearly, his own smell still hung in the room, an almost visible cloud of alcohol, leather, horse.... well, he had arrived only a few hours before. But there was something else. More like a hunch that someone else had actually been here – a kind of whiff, an indefinable but strangely familiar smell, as if he had sensed it once before, and a tiny trail of footsteps, as delicate as if that had been just a ghost. But a ghost would have left no visible traces at all.

Even these were almost impossible to see, smell or feel. It was strange, but at least a better explanation than that he had simply lost the ring. Still, what creature would have managed to pull the thing off his finger and disappear with it completely without a sound and almost without a trace? There was only one way to find out, and, if possible, before anyone saw him without the ring. Now it didn't seem like such a good idea that he had presented it so openly (because he was damn proud of it).

Geralt left the Chameleon like a suitor who had fallen asleep over his secret lover – very quietly. No one was awake yet anyway. He disappeared without a message, which was not that unusual, and sneaked out through the back exit. It was challenging to follow the delicate breeze on the streets and impossible to make out the tracks anymore. Almost as if the thief had fled across the rooftops – a not so unlikely possibility. Besides, the city itself stank of all the shit that places like these stink of: too many people and their numerous vices.

His motivation was high (if not desperate), so his focus was tremendous. The sight of a witcher trudging through Novigrad with a grim expression on his face, looking neither left nor right, was not common even here. As so often, his reputation preceded him, and if he had bothered to look into the eyes of the people who hurriedly avoided him, he probably could have guessed which of the numerous things said about him they were most likely to believe. He didn't care anyway. Geralt followed the fleeting trail of a breeze mixed with so many smells that it became almost impossible to keep track of it.

Twice he lost it, once he almost lost his nerve, and yet he held on convulsively to that one delicate scent. It led him out of the city, which was good; it would be easier to track now. Only briefly did he give up following the scent because, outside the city gate, he was sure to find it again. The trail led directly away from the main road, which didn't surprise him. The brazen thief surely had not been interested in encountering any guards. So he unhitched his horse from the capable businessman who had recently started running a livery stable near the entrance.

/

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   It went cross-country, over meadows and fields, which Geralt had to ride around as a precaution if he did not want to incur the farmers' wrath, and he lost valuable time, but never the trail. Whoever had taken the ring had been nimble, and they were several hours ahead of him. But he wondered where this would lead. The ring had hardly been stolen by a magpie that had flown into its nest with it. So why through the countryside and into the forest? Maybe the thief just wanted to hide and wait because there was no direct way to the next town from here, and Geralt still considered it doubtful that it would be possible to sell the ring, just like the swords. However, some crazy collectors paid a fortune for witcher's memorabilia. Maybe there was a black market for his wedding ring. This was such a monstrous thought that he already imagined what he would do to the thief if….

Geralt stopped as if rooted to the spot. The scent ceased here, in a small clearing of beech trees, in the middle of a meadow, sprinkled with daisies and wild herbs. He had been leading Roach on the reins for quite a while because the forest had become too dense. Now he let go, patted her briefly, and whispered to her to be good and stay put, which earned him a snort that sounded almost contemptuous.

The trail might end here, but that didn't mean he had lost it. He perceived a presence that was trying to hide, but... Geralt looked up.

"Johnny," he said. "You can come down now."

Up there, perched in a treetop, sat the reason why the smell had appeared familiar to him from the very beginning. He had just not been able to assign it to the little godling immediately. In fact, Geralt had not expected to see him again at all.

"I don't want to," resounded a pitched voice from above.

"I can imagine, but I'd rather you come down. My neck hurts from staring up."

"That's old age."

"I'm sure you know something about that," Geralt replied patiently. "Come down now. I want to ask you something."

Johnny grumbled, and he played coy for a few more seconds, but he seemed to realize that he would not escape the witcher just by hiding in the tree. So he climbed down the bark as nimbly as a squirrel, but when he reached the ground, he still kept some distance.

"Long time no see, witcher," he chirped, though also with a certain mistrust – which, in Geralt's opinion, he had good reason to feel.

"Johnny, you know it's dangerous for you to show yourself outside," Geralt began carefully.

The little one grimaced.

"I'm careful. Besides, sometimes it's pretty boring to just sit inside all the time."

"You promised to watch Corinne – and Sarah, didn't you?"

"And I do! Really!"

Now a genuine smile covered the godling's face, who outwardly and also in many traits almost resembled a child. The smile might have as much to do with his conspecific Sarah as with the sorceress who had taken them in. They could have lived a pleasant life in the wilderness, where they would not have had to hide all the time. But the godling's natural kindness had driven Sarah to return to Novigrad as if she felt a connection with the oneiromancer, and Johnny had gone along. It was certainly not a forever bond, but it seemed to work.

"I'm sure you do," Geralt replied, "But listen.... is it possible you paid me a visit last night?"

Johnny's big eyes had an innocent look.

"Maybe?"

"And did you maybe take something that doesn't belong to you?"

Johnny scratched his head.

"Well, that would depend on how you define property, I guess."

Geralt sighed.

"My ring, Johnny. Why did you steal my ring? And don't even try to deny it. I know you have it in your little pouch."

Involuntarily, the godling's gaze went to the slim bag he carried over his shoulder. There could hardly be a more apparent admission of guilt, and he noticed his mistake immediately.

"Oh, unfair," he complained. "You tricked me. That'll teach me to play with witchers again."

"This isn't a game, Johnny," Geralt said, now noticeably more severe. "Give the ring back."

"Oh, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"I need it."

"For what?" sighed Geralt.

"That's a secret," the godling quickly replied.

"Johnny..."

"No, no, I won't be fooled again!"

"I'm sure Corinne doesn't know anything about it. Right? Would she approve?"

"You're not going to rat me out, are you? That's not proper between friends."

Johnny was visibly indignant now.

"It's not proper between friends to steal from each other, either."

The godling sighed.

"Oh, fine. Suppose you don't rat me out! Promise!"

Geralt counted very slowly inwardly to ten before answering, albeit through clenched teeth.

"I promise. So?"

"Well, if you can give anything on a witcher's word of honor.... I'll try to summon Liuba."

Geralt stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Liuba, the goddess of love?"

Johnny nodded eagerly. Geralt narrowed his eyes.

"Listen, I have no idea how this works among you godlings, but if Sarah isn't interested in you in that way, summoning a tricky goddess certainly isn't the best approach..."

"Dumbass. It's not for me," Johnny interrupted him. "It's about Corinne. She's been pretty lonely since she started taking care of us. She doesn't go out much, and even though we've offered to leave, she says she doesn't want us to. As far as we know, there are hardly any mages left in town. It is reasonably safe, but most are suspicious. And Corinne believes that no one who doesn't understand her powers can love her."

"Did she say that?"

Johnny sighed theatrically.

"We're magical beings, witcher. She doesn't have to say anything."

"All right, but... Johnny, you and Sarah are already very rare. Gods are – well, in many cases, just myths. Things made up by humans who found winter too cold and dark. And even if Liuba does exist, she may not be the best choice. According to her legend, she more or less killed a woman who asked her for help. Which technically fulfilled the deal to reunite her with her beloved, who happened to die on the battlefield at the same time."

"Hogwash," the godling replied contemptuously. "I do believe that gods exist. And that they are nothing other than magical beings, just like us. You should understand that, even if your magic is a flyspeck compared to what I can do. That they are myths, yes, that is a merit of the humans, and that's good because otherwise, they would have probably wiped them all out. This way, they've just forgotten many of them."

Annoyed, Geralt blew a strand of hair out of his face.

"All right, let's not argue about the existence of gods. Why does my ring have to be the pledge to call her?"

"It must be a symbol of true love," Johnny said seriously.

"Surely there will be enough love to be found in Novigrad..."

"You don't understand! What do you think I have tried already? Garters, lockets with drawings in them, love letters.... None of it worked. This may be a big city, but true love is rarely found."

"You stole all that?"

The godling shrugged.

"And a lot of wedding rings," he admitted. "But yours is special. There's much stronger magic in that."

"There's no magic in it at all," Geralt objected.

Johnny chuckled.

"You have no idea. There is destiny in true love, and the two combined are a rarity. Your ring radiates that. No wonder you don't realize it. You can't do anything but light fires and make people look elsewhere when you don't like them."

"That's not quite what..."

"That's some magic you don't know a thing about," Johnny continued. "Why you, of all people, have a ring like that is beyond me. There are far more beautiful wedding rings; believe me, I've had enough in my hand. But I haven't seen one that had an engraving like that. Even the metal was chosen with care. Almost all the wedding rings I saw were gold; yours is not."

"But what makes you think you can conjure Liuba here in the wilderness, of all places?"

"Ha, my dear, research!"

Johnny tapped his nose, a strangely touching gesture, even if it was meant to express superiority.

"Corinne had picked up some books so we wouldn't be bored. I honestly believe, secretly, that she genuinely thinks we're like children because of our shape. Well, anyway, one of the books was about local legends in the area. It was not difficult to get to the right place. The book said that some lovers claimed to have seen Liuba there."

"Did the book also say that it was dangerous?" Geralt asked dryly.

"It said that only true love could summon her," the godling replied unaffected. "Otherwise, Liuba would punish the callers. That's why I need your ring, you see."

"Well, let's say I believe all that; what happens if you succeed in calling the goddess with this pledge?" asked Geralt.

"She will accept the gift and fulfill my wish: that Corinne meets the love of her life. You know, she wouldn't have to take care of us. We can do it quite well on our own. But Sarah thinks we make sure her powers don't turn against her. I guess all this dream magic isn't that much fun."

"I can't let that happen," Geralt said seriously.

"What, you don't begrudge Corinne finding someone she loves?" asked Johnny indignantly.

"This isn't about Corinne. You can't give my ring to some goddess. This is my wedding ring, Johnny. It's very important to me."

"Weren't you listening? That's also one reason why it'll be so valuable to Liuba."

"I get it," Geralt replied grimly. "But it's my ring, and you can't have it. You'll have to find something else."

"I told you, I've already tried."

"All right... I'll try. I'll get you a pledge of true love that's just as good."

Johnny grimaced.

"I don't think that's possible."

"You do believe that you can summon a goddess, and I don't think that will work, either with my ring or if we sacrifice a virgin."

"That's barbaric," Johnny said indignantly.

"That's why we're not doing it," Geralt returned irritably. "Listen, you know I could just take that ring off you. But I don't want to hurt you or your, well, religious feelings. So I'm going to help you and get you another love symbol. I'm convinced it doesn't even have to be magical."

"But..."

"You don't even know her legend," Geralt continued. "The woman who summoned Liuba paid with jewelry. Among them was possibly a love pledge, a gift, but that's only part of the ritual, isn't it?"

Johnny nodded slowly.

"Well, there are a few other things required as well, I've already obtained them all, wasn't exactly easy either."

"You mean you stole those too."

"How could I have bought them?" the godling replied innocently. "So, what's your plan?“

/

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   Geralt didn't believe for a second that Johnny would succeed in summoning a goddess - let alone that she was anything more than a legend. What he did believe, however, was that maybe something was there. The fact that the information in Johnny's book pointed explicitly to a particular location was hardly a coincidence. Also that the ritual was described in detail – although the special ingredient, namely the love pledge, was mentioned rather vaguely in the book, as he had gotten out of Johnny after some more inquiring. Geralt thought it possible that perhaps something really could be summoned at this point, but certainly not a goddess. A specter, perhaps, or a cursed being, a corgowrath, a Shishiga… whatever it was, he believed it to be rare and old, probably dangerous.

He asked the godling not to try to start the ritual without him but to prepare it so that they could start right away when Geralt returned. Meanwhile, he rode back to Novigrad, spending an outrageous amount of money on a small silver box decorated with tacky rose petals made of tiny, inexpensive gems. Then he spent considerable time unobtrusively looking around for a mage or sorceress. He could by no means go to Corinne with his request without betraying Johnny – which he didn't want to do because it was clear to him that the godling meant well. But as a being exceedingly connected with nature, he lacked the sense for many human characteristics, and he did not grasp the danger that could hide in such magical incantation. Furthermore, Geralt was aware that he would only get his ring back safely if he played at least partially by Johnny's rules. And in the end, it was always about playing with these creatures.

He found a mage who, even if they officially no longer had to hide, made a somewhat nervous impression. Geralt had the box covered with a spell that he had thought about for a while and was reasonably sure that Johnny wouldn't recognize what was actually behind it. This took a while, and the mage relaxed a bit, even admitting at the end that he still slept poorly, albeit the city was safe for his kind again. However, prejudices did not disappear from people's minds so quickly. Emhyr held back on the presence of soldiers in the city; it was still a sensitive topic in negotiations. Of the northern kingdoms, no one felt responsible either, which is why crime still flourished in Novigrad. Before leaving, Geralt recommended that the mage visit Corinne – just for safety. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that he was traveling in the matter of love, after all. That was ridiculous, and besides, it was none of his business.

When he returned, Johnny had prepared the ritual. He had set up a circle in the clearing, made of half-burned candles and at least one unused one. In the middle of it, he had placed a pile of gifts, mainly jewelry and love letters, all stolen like the candles – like Geralt's ring, but it was not among the other stuff. The godling noticed Geralt's look and defended himself by saying that all of this was only for security, to strengthen the spell.

"I really don't think that's going to work," Geralt said, "not even with this."

He held up the silver box.

"For someone who possesses such a mighty token of love, you're surprisingly doubtful of its power," Johnny remarked pointedly.

"Maybe, but I'm a reformed skeptic when it comes to love."

Johnny shook his head.

"So, what did you bring?"

"In this box," Geralt claimed dramatically, "I had one of my memories magically locked away."

"What?"

"A memory of a loving moment."

"Memories are powerful," Johnny mused. "I just hope it's nothing objectionable?"

Geralt shrugged.

"Love has many facets. Ultimately, it's up to your goddess to decide, isn't it?"

The godling still looked a little indecisive, but finally, he nodded.

"All right, I'll tell you how we do it," Geralt continued.

"But I've read the book, I know..."

"Well, you can do it as the book says. But as soon as the time comes when the box is needed, you give me back the ring. At that exact moment, you hear?"

Johnny tilted his head.

"That's not stupid," he said appreciatively. "You think if your little box isn't strong enough, after all, Liuba will be attracted to the power of the ring. In the end, the memory in your little box might still be enough for her. Clever."

"Exactly," Geralt lied without batting an eye.

"That way, you can keep the ring, and I can still talk to her.... it's just a little bit of cheating. I like it," Johnny said. "Let's get started."

So they began. Geralt lit the candles in the order Johnny solemnly told him to. He had even stolen a flint, which Geralt thought was almost more dangerous than anything else he had done. Then began a litany of mumbled words, a strange mixture of elder speech and some gibberish. Maybe some swear words, who could tell for sure.

At some point, the godling reached into his little bag, and at last, Geralt saw his ring again. The sight of it stung him a little. Perhaps it was indeed strange how attached he was to this object. Still, he did not regard the ring as a mere object.

"It's time," Johnny whispered, his face a single mask of concentration, his big eyes half-closed.

Geralt held out his hand with the box. The atmosphere was strange. Evening had fallen on the small clearing; the light had given way to a pale gray, at the edge of which still hung the last pink of the setting sun. The birds' singing from the forest had stopped; not even the woodpecker, which had been hammering on some trees almost all day, could still be heard. Actually, all sounds had fallen silent, even that of small animals in the undergrowth. Although a gentle breeze was blowing, not even a rustle could be heard.

That was strange, but even stranger was that the air, which had been pure and clear all day, seemed to condense. Johnny had insisted that Geralt put down the swords, but he had placed them on the floor not too far from him and was now glancing at them. If any specter was indeed going to show itself, he had to be quick. The silver sword was prepared in case, but since he didn't know what he was up against, he had to decide on a possible potion at the last second. And he had to get Johnny to safety somehow.

"Now," Geralt hissed as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Promptly, he held out the box to Johnny. The latter’s eyes seemed even bigger than usual, and a delighted smile now appeared on his face. He took the box and gave the ring to Geralt, who immediately put it on his finger. At the same moment, a strange glow seemed to fill the air. Geralt stood waiting at the edge of the candle circle, his knees slightly bent, ready to make a daring leap towards the swords. It seemed to grow darker around them, while a bright spot of light remained in the center of the circle. The air crackled. Suddenly Johnny chuckled and lowered his eyes in a shy gesture. Geralt stared over at him, frowning.

"What's going on?"

The godling did not answer. He seemed not to perceive Geralt at all. Then he nodded and began to speak incoherently.

"That's right," he said, and "What mage?"

He chuckled again. Then he pointed to Geralt.

"No, he has no idea," he said.

The witcher wondered if Johnny had gone mad. Nothing was there. It seemed as if an apparition was about to materialize, but at the same time, as if something prevented it from doing so. Johnny spoke to the air. Geralt thought carefully. What creature could manage to make itself entirely invisible for a witcher, not even causing the medallion to vibrate? It was also strange that the changed atmosphere had nothing dangerous about it at all. Nevertheless, he thought it impossible that Johnny was talking to a love goddess right now – or that she would show herself to the godling, of all people, who had nothing to offer but a handful of jewelry and a small box covered with a strong but rather silly spell. This only confirmed his suspicion that it was not about a love pledge at all. Geralt took a quick look at his ring. The engraved flame on it seemed to glow red. He ran the index finger of his left hand over it. It was all in his imagination; there was nothing at all.

Just at that moment, the strange sensation hovering over the surroundings disappeared, and suddenly, the birds began to sing again. The light was back as before. Everything was exactly as before, just as if nothing had ever happened – only the candles had all gone out.

"What was that just now?" Geralt addressed the godling.

Johnny looked at him innocently, the box still in his hand.

"Look, she didn't take it at all. Nor any of the other stuff. She said she'd do it for free for me. You got all worked up over your ring for nothing!"

"Better safe than sorry," Geralt grumbled, "What did she say, your goddess?"

He sounded so skeptical that Johnny burst out laughing.

"You don't believe it even now, do you? I suppose you didn't see anything? Well, these gods play by their own rules, my dear. She said Corinne's already been taken care of. I don't know what that means, but I think Sarah and I won't have to worry about her anytime soon."

"I see," Geralt replied. He couldn't think of any other answer. He made a mental note to ask Dandelion to check on Corinne occasionally. While he didn't actually believe Johnny had been talking to a goddess, as long as he didn't know what he was dealing with, he preferred to play it safe. If there was some spectral being around, someone would have to take care of it sooner or later.

/

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   "You're late."

Emhyr, engrossed in papers in his study as usual at this hour, did not precisely toss aside his quill at the sight of Geralt, but he leaned back, regarding his spouse intently.

"Late?" asked Geralt, after closing the door and making sure they were indeed alone (occasionally, there were minions in the alcoves, scurrying out at a hint). Only then did he casually stroll around the table to pick up the kiss he thought he richly deserved. He got it, and it felt like he had actually been gone too long. The fact that he then sat down on the desk, however, earned him a disapproving look.

"You're crumpling important documents. All I’m saying is that, according to my information, you had already arrived in Novigrad about a week ago. Usually, you stay a day or two, then you head back."

"You sent your spies after me?"

"Certainly not."

"So you have spies in Novigrad?"

"Don't act surprised," Emhyr returned. "With your penchant for dubious adventures, you can't blame me for occasionally liking to know where you hang out."

"Dubious... pah."

Geralt grinned cockily.

"Then why didn't your spies tell you where I was if you think I should have been back by now?"

Emhyr didn't bat an eye, but at least he had to admit, "I'm afraid they... lost sight of you at some point."

"Well, maybe I just don't let myself be watched on my dubious adventures," Geralt countered. "I'll tell you about it sometime; however, right now, I want to get rid of the dust from the journey. Just this much: I was traveling in matters of love."

Emhyr folded his arms, raising his brows.

"Is this going to be some weird attempt to make me jealous?"

"Oh, would that work?"

"Sure, though it would be high treason."

"High treason?"

"Of course," Emhyr replied calmly, "betraying the Emperor is high treason."

"In that case," Geralt said, "it's a good thing your spies didn't get me."

He wiped away Emhyr's now slightly confused expression with another kiss. Before closing his eyes, he took one last look at his ring.

This story was probably better left a secret after all.

The Love Letter

Alright. This is my submission for @heli0s-writes‘ 2k challenge. Congratulations, babe! you deserve all the love! 

Prompt: Dum Spiro Spero (While I breathe, I hope.)

This was probably the easiest thing I’ve ever written. 

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 1384

Warnings: general sadness? swearing but surprisingly not a lot.

Summary: Bucky’s just gotten back from his time in the POW camp and a couple missions with Steve. He’s starting to wonder what he’s still doing there, instead of being home with you.

Bucky’s bones ache. Everything hurts. His head is pounding, his teeth ache in their sockets, Christ, his fucking eyes hurt. 

The camp is loud as he makes his way from the mess hall tent towards his makeshift bunk. He just finished eating with Steve, new Steve, not the short, scrawny and sickly punk he’s known his whole life. No, this Steve could probably kick his ass, too, while fending off three other guys. 

 Idiot.

 But in a way, he’s glad. He’s glad Steve is healthy and strong now, he won’t have to spend so much time worrying about him. But he’s not happy he’s over here in the middle of this shit. 

 No, he never wanted that for his best friend. 

 He pauses along the muddy path, stepping out of the way of the foot traffic as he pushes an unlit cigarette between his chapped lips. 

 Fuck, he wants to go home. Wants to see his girl, hold you in his arms and dance in your living room, holding you close. He misses the way he can feel your heartbeat against his chest when he does. Your light breath on his neck, your sweet voice when you tell him how much you love him. 

 His arms still remember the way you feel, the exact shape you take when you’re pressed against him. He could do it now, encase the empty space, and if by some miracle you showed up, you’d fit perfectly in it. 

 He sniffles slightly as he raises the lighter to the end of the cigarette, and with shaking hands, lights it. He takes that first drag, the taste burning his tongue, you’d hate that he’s smoking. Always telling him that it’s gonna kill him someday. 

 If the war doesn’t do that first.

 He makes a silent promise to you, that when he gets home, when he survives this, he’ll quit just for you.

 “Hey, Sarge!” One of the ladies shouts from across the path. He looks up, squinting slightly to make out a face in the dim tent. Heather, she’s been flirting with him since day one. Just something to pass the time, honey. Not much else to do ‘round here, except make handsome men blush. 

 She waves him over and he nods reluctantly. He just wants to go lay down, relax his bones before Steve comes up with some terrible idea, again.

 He waits for a break before stepping across the muddy road, the squelching of his boots in the mud making his hair stand on end. He hates it. Misses New York, misses concrete and solidness under his feet, misses the smell of the city, dirty and oppressive. 

 There’s too much clean air out here, marred by blood and gun powder. He’d never be able to enjoy the countryside, not after this.

 “Hey, Sarge. Glad you made it back.” She says as he ducks under the tent flap. 

 “Me, too.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did ya need me for somethin’, doll?”

 “Always in a rush, you men. Can’t even take time to enjoy the pretty scenery.” She admonishes with a smile.

 “Darlin’, you have men droppin’ by here all day long to flirt with ya. You don’t need a putz like me to tell ya how pretty you are.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

 “Maybe they’re not the right men, Barnes.” She turns and rummages through a stack of envelopes. “Somethin’ came for ya while you were... away. It’s due to get shipped back, but since you’re here now, I figure you should have it.” She turns around, holding up a square envelope with elegant scrawl on it.

 Bucky’s heart skips a beat as he realizes it’s from you. “Thanks, Heather.” He says, reaching for it.

 “She’s a lucky gal.” She says softly. 

 “Not so sure about that. Think you got it the wrong way ‘round.” 

 She places the envelope in his hand and he takes it and her fingers, lifting her hand to his mouth. “Thanks for always bein’ so kind.” He says before letting her go and turning from the tent. 

 He walks quicker now, more determined to reach his destination. He stubs out the lit end of his forgotten smoke and settles on his cot. His heart is pounding as he looks over every inch of the paper. 

 It smells like you. His eyes water a little as the ache in his chest is both soothed by your perfume and made worse by the distance. He holds the paper to his nose and inhaled deeply, your perfect face conjured behind his eyelids. 

 The muck, the pain, the loud conversations and noisy jeeps all fade away. He’s left with his last memory of you, at the train station. You hugged him so tightly he thought a rib would break. You tried desperately and failed miserably not to cry. You kissed him repeatedly, ignoring the curious stares of the people around you because fuck them. He didn’t stop you, in fact, he held you closer. He kissed you like it was the last one you would ever have, fingers curled into the back of your dress. 

 But also a promise. That while he has breath in his body, he has hope that he’ll come back to you. 

 You let out an ugly sob when he told you that, and he couldn’t stop the smile. Stop laughing at me, Bucky. 

 He lets out a sigh and carefully opens the envelope, trying his best not to rip it to shreds. Inside are small strips of paper, dotted with oil stains. Now he realizes why it still smells like you, his clever girl. He leaves the perfume-sprayed papers inside so he doesn’t lose them and opens your letter. 

 Hey, handsome. 

 I never know how to start. Small talk, in light of everything just seems stupid. So, I think I’ll start off with: I miss you. I miss you so much that it hurts deep in my bones. 

 I didn’t know it was possible to miss another human this much, but I feel like you’ve taken half of me with you. 

 I hope you’re doing alright over there. I hear that Europe is beautiful, but I suppose not the parts you’re seeing. I’ve had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach for weeks and I just know it has something to do with you. 

 I know you can’t tell me where you are or what you’re doing, but if you could just let me know that you’re okay somehow, I would really feel better. 

 My Latin class is growing well. I learned something in honor of you, and I remind myself of it every day that you’re gone. 

 Dum spiro spero. While I breathe, I hope. 

 That’s what you said to me the day you left, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I like it and I think it suits us. 

 I won’t keep you much longer. But just know that I love you with my whole heart, James Buchanan Barnes. No matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, I’m thinking of you and missing you terribly. It might not help, but I’m home, waiting for you. Waiting for you to bring my heart, my other half back to me. 

 Stay safe, my love. 

 Dum spiro spero.

 Forever yours.

 Bucky closes his eyes and presses the letter to his chest. What did he do to deserve such an amazing dame? This is exactly what he needs to help him keep going. A reminder of what he’s fighting for. 

 “Buck, we’re heading out.” Dugan’s voice says from the end of his cot. 

 Bucky groans and cracks an eye open, looking at the big man. “Yeah, alright.” He folds the letter neatly, storing it in the small box with the others in his trunk. His little collection of you to keep with him. 

 He grabs his blue jacket, zipping it up and picks up his sniper rifle. “How many more of these stupid facilities can they possibly have?” He sighs, following Dugan out. He glances back at his trunk, thinking you’re probably right. 

 Dum spiro spero. 

 While he can breathe and fight for his life, he’s going to have hope that he can make it back to you. 

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Fangs for the Hospitality

Chapter 1

Summary: After Remus goes a bit too far during a family reunion bet, Roman finds himself alone and near freezing outside in an early winter storm. His car broke down, and he's in the middle of nowhere with no phone. He cant seem to catch a break. Deciding his life cant much worse, Roman decides to head into the woods looking for help. His luck may be turning when the man who opens the door is a lot more charming than he should be. His kids are fascinated by the new face appearing from the woods. And man this guy has some sharp teeth... Maybe Roman bit off a bit more than he can chew with this one.

A/N: My self-indulgent magic/vampire fic! Let me know if I need to tag something or you wanna be tagged!

Pairings: Familial DAM, Creavtivitwins, Eventual Roceit, Eventual Intrulogical

Warnings: (Done per chapter) Car trouble, mention of bets, gossip, mentions of bad family relations

Word Count: 1466

Read on AO3!

“God Dammit! No no nonono please! Don’t do this to me!” Roman whined at his car from behind the wheel from the driver's seat.

Despite his pleading, the car continued to sputter even louder than previously. Finally starting to slow down, leaving Roman no choice other than to pull his car off to the side of the road.

He continued to lament his plight to no one except the empty seat beside him, leaning over to place his forehead on the steering wheel.  At this point he couldn't even try to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks landing on his lap.

There was no one else on the empty, countryside road making it easy to do so.

“Why does this always happen to me!?” He whined as he turned the key finally giving the engine a much needed break. “I can’t do this anymore! The world hates meee!”

Earlier that day the passenger seat was filled by his overly excitable twin brother, Remus, on their way to the yearly family reunion. Roman has always hated these reunions with a burning passion. He only went because he was expected to at this point.

There was always too much expectation from everyone at the reunions. Since his family was quite well off they were the one to host every year. Inviting everyone to their too grand, too big victorian style home.

Remus, on the other hand, had always liked the family reunions. He too was asked those questions (well not the one about his career, they were all quite proud of him becoming a doctor. Specifically an obstetrician and gynecologist. Remus said it was because delivering babies was gross and dealing with people who have female reproductive systems health could be horrifying, but he can never deny how much he liked helping the people he did. He has a counter on his fridge of how many babies he has brought into the world and sometimes he even looks at it and smiles, not that Remus knew that Roman saw him do that.) but Remus let the other questions roll straight off his back in a way Roman never could.

He was holding on hope that this year, like every year, would be different. Maybe his mother would stop asking if he had chosen a more suitable career path like Remus. Maybe his grandmother would stop asking if he found a pretty girl yet. Maybe his grandfather would be anything more than dismissive toward him.   Maybe...maybe his dad might show up to this one.

Not to mention that they also just made him wildly uncomfortable. Too many people really. All those people being fake and backhanded. He alway felt like they were looking specifically at him as he walked by. Just a bad time for him all around.

Remus really liked the reunions because of the gossip and chaos of it all. Every year as soon as they arrived he would immediately go and find their cousin Remy to lay down the new hot tea about the family. Then after all that was settled they would place bets on who could get the most outrageous rumor started. Remy would typically win because of his talent for making such believable lies. Remus always went too far off the deep end and the family didn't usually believe what they were being told. Which was completely fair because “what do you mean Jill isn't here because she suddenly decided to take a trip to West Virginia to look for Mothman? Remus Jill is 89 years old. And who is Mothman?”

That stupid rumor game is what started this whole mess anyway. Roman always tried to stay out of it. He wasn't very good at the game, though he was a good actor he was very bad at lying. So for the past few years he'd skip out on playing. He'd just go to his corner, and wait for the night to be over.

This year Remus and Remy decided to up the ante as it were. There was going to be a whole $50 bill on the line this time (though that was trump change compared to how much money his family actually made). Remus is never one to back down from a challenge and though he's a doctor, he doesn't tend to think ahead of his actions all that well. Especially when he got a bit too excited. That being said, he really messed things up for Roman this time.

That stupid game had made everyones eyes turn to him for an explanation that he didn’t have. Forced him to run from the house and flee in his car without Remus behind him.

Roman didn't take time to dwell on the fact he was his brother's ride.

With his head still on the steering wheel he closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this one, so he continued to sit a wallow a bit. Maybe he’ll just wait a bit and his car will start back up…

~~~

Roman pulled the car into the last spot left open in the large parking lot outside of their parents mansion.

He pulled in between what looked to be his Aunt Clara and Uncle Jim's red corvette, and his Grandmother dark blue rolls-royce. He took extra care parking in between the two very expensive cars. Making sure to leave plenty of room around them and his own, significantly crappier car. He knew from experience that if he didn't leave the room he would be getting an earful later from said family members.

As he turned the key he let out a nervous breath looking over to Remus who was almost bouncing in his seat.

“You ready?” Roman asked with a slight smile. As much as he was worried to be here, he was glad his brother would have a good time.

“I can’t wait! I can’t wait to beat Remy's ass this year! I have such a good rumor that the whole family is going to believe for years to come. That 50 dollars is mine!” Remus smiled bright and pumped his fist in the air.

Roman couldn’t help but feel excited for him. Remus even seemed more excited now, if the bouncing and fidgeting said anything.

“I’m sure you’ll get it out of him one way or another. Come on, let's go.” Roman started for his car door when Remus’ arm shot out and stopped him. Roman looked back to Remus to see he had stopped bouncing, seeming somewhat sobered. Looking more serious, and to be contemplating something tilting his head back and forth. Then he finally spoke.

“Listen...I know this isn't your kind of thing since dad left... But I’m with you okay? Stick with me if you need to. Those old assholes don't know what they're talking about with you, okay?” Remus looked slightly shy as he spoke, not looking directly at Roman.

Still, Roman smiled softly at his twin, both a bit confused and touched. Remus didn't typically try and make Roman feel better; he wasn't very good with words. But he did appreciate the sentiment.

“Thank you Remus. I’ll try to enjoy myself. Might even try to leave my corner if I feel so inclined.” Roman smiled. “Maybe dable in a little bit conversion. Just try to keep your hijinks somewhat clean and manageable.”

“Well that's no fun!” And Remus was back to his normal self, seeming grateful for the topic change. “My only reason to be here is to cause chaos and you know it! Now let's go! There is supposed to be a really big storm coming and if we're lucky the snow will distract everyone from when I plan to steal the bust of great Aunt Kathy!” Remus cackled as he exited the car, way more excited then he should be for a man who admitted to planning theft.

Roman took the moment alone to take a stealing breath. He looked out the window at the huge family house where he grew up. It was much too big, too grand for children to grow up in. It didn't feel like home anymore. Looking back it never really did to Roman.

He hated coming here and he hated the feelings associated here. But if it makes Remus happy to come here together, and it keeps the rest of his family off his back, he’ll keep trying. A knock on the window made him jump out of his thoughts.

“You fucking ready!? I’m freezing my tits off out here ya know!” Remus shouted too loud for how close he was to the window.

“As I’ll ever be…” he muttered to himself, smiling a bit at Remus being Remus as he unbuckled his seatbelt and left the car.

~~~

Next Chapter

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@primaveradoodles

He was a captain on the Wisconsin team

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🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🍄 (the mushroom is a gift bc I love u)

🥺🥺🥺 i love my mushroom thank you 😭💕💕

okay so this took me ages cause i had to find something i thought was worthy of your attention but also i was curious about counting the flowers and if i'm right there are 316 of them 😂 which issssssss too much for me to count sentences lol SO after much deliberation i have decided simply to present you with what is basically an entire chapter of Oslasil (largely removed from context but featuring a scene that was very fun to write)

ENJOY, MY LOVE! 💕💖💖💝💕💘✨✨✨😘

“I’m not playing your game.”

“Why not?”

“Have you looked around yourself in the past four hours? There isn’t anything to spot and guess! There hasn’t been since we passed by Calcheth. Everything is flat and grassy and identical to what’s beside it.”

Haroch shakes his head. His eyes are bright and welcoming, and there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. He’s enjoying this far too much. Though, if Veridis is honest with himself, this may be the closest he’s come to having fun in… he doesn’t know how long. It’s an odd feeling, but not unpleasant. Spending time with Haroch has never been unpleasant.

“You’re talking like a quitter, Veridis.”

“Hey!”

“You can’t get offended when you’re the one who gave up before he began!”

“I’m not offended. I just don’t appreciate being called a quitter.”

“Then step up to the challenge!” Haroch exclaims, knocking their shoulders together. “I’ve already spotted something green.”

Veridis stares at him with narrowed eyes, but he meets the gaze steadily. Obviously, Veridis is going to have to play by Haroch’s rules to gain back the upper hand. He huffs out a breath, more amused than frustrated, and turns his focus to their surroundings. It doesn’t take long to scan the environment and, just as he suspected, Veridis sees nothing green.

“Haroch, you’re losing your mind.”

“No, no, I’ve spotted something that’s green. You have to guess.”

“There isn’t anything.”

“That’s not a guess.”

“Okay. I guess that there’s nothing green.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“Ugh. You are relentless.”

Veridis tries to ignore Haroch chuckling beside him so he can do another sweep of the countryside. Nothing catches his eye as being particularly green; the storms have beaten this place down with their sickness. Most of the grass is prematurely yellow. The bits of prairie that are another color are the areas that are browning or that have already died off completely. Everything in camp fits within the same color scheme.

“I want another hint.”

Haroch’s eyebrows practically fly off his head, they shoot up so quickly. Prat. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I get to know more than the color, don’t I? I want more information.”

Haroch’s eyes roam Veridis’s face like he’s studying the elf. He bites his lower lip, but even that can’t hide his smile. It seems like years before he nods. “Okay. Um- yeah, alright. The thing I’ve spotted is both green and close to you.”

A quick scan of the ground around them is no help at all. Veridis is starting to see how this game would keep children entertained at the market. What he doesn’t understand is how the children don’t lose their minds with frustration when they can’t find what they’re meant to be spotting.

“Haroch.”

“Yeah?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you want me to find.”

“Are you giving up?”

“… Maybe.”

Haroch throws his head back and laughs. Veridis knows it’s at his expense, but it’s still a beautiful, infectious sound. He finds himself unable to stop smiling because he’s trying so hard to suppress his own laughter. When Haroch has composed himself enough to sit still again, he places his hand on Veridis’s shoulder and leans closer. His hand is, thankfully, just far enough from the pulse point that he shouldn’t be able to feel how fast Veridis’s heart is racing.

“You’re very unobservant for a ranger,” Haroch finally manages to say. He���s still a little breathless.

“Bold claim coming from a farm boy,” Veridis snaps back.

He doesn’t mean the words to be hurtful, but the moment they leave his lips he regrets them. Haroch stares at him, wide-eyed, and falls victim to another fit of laughter. Veridis’s brow creases in confusion.

“You really haven’t played games before. I guess a part of me still thought you were joking, but clearly I was wrong. And who are you calling farm boy? I seem to recall that the place you call home is a certain farming down in southern Theiq.”

“Hey, you can’t gloat until you can prove you actually spotted something green.”

“Wow. You’re going to accuse me of cheating at a game you don’t even know?”

“Maybe I am.”

Haroch rolls his eyes. “Big tough ranger you are. You refuse to let someone else take a guard shift so you can watch for danger, but you won’t look at your belt and notice that your very own dagger has a green hilt.”

Veridis glances down out of instinct and immediately feels foolish. He should have guessed this far sooner. Haroch is watching with a soft expression when he looks back up. Veridis doesn’t think of himself as particularly competitive, and yet… he can’t let this end here.

“Give me another guess.”

“What, really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? I won’t go easy on you. I thought I was making it simple by spotting your knife. If we go again, it’ll be harder.”

“If you won’t spot something for me, I’m going to spot something for you.”

“… You know what? Go ahead. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The sun is high overhead by the time they stop playing the game. Both have lost track of what the other has spotted and who has guessed more than the other. In the hours that passed as they played, not a single traveler came up the road they’ve made camp on. So when Haroch makes his way closer to the edge of the stream, Veridis finds himself following.

They remove their boots so they can dip feet in cool water and take turns tossing pebbles to see who can make a larger splash. Veridis plucks a long piece of grass from beside him and begins twisting it around his fingers about the same time that Haroch leans back and settles his weight on his elbows. Veridis notices him staring not long after when he tries to look past him to watch the road.

“What?”

“Why wouldn’t you let Seilyn take the watch?”

“We just met, Haroch. I don’t trust her.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

“Exactly.”

“Why not?”

Veridis shrugs and turns away from Haroch’s imploring eyes. “I’m a ranger. When you see what I’ve seen and do what I’ve done, it’s kind of hard to trust people.”

“I suppose.”

Haroch tips his head back so he has a better view of the sky. Veridis’s eyes are drawn to the column of his throat. He follows it up to Haroch’s jawline, and from there his lips, his nose, his eyes. He has long eyelashes. They’re as dark as his hair; even the midday sun can’t light them up. His lips part as he draws in a deep breath.

“How come you answer so many questions about yourself by saying you’re a ranger?”

“It’s applicable.”

He chuckles, and his lips tug into a ghost of the brilliant smile he’s been wearing all morning. “Sure, but why not anything else?”

“If I tell someone I’m a ranger, it wraps up everything about me that everyone else finds odd and ties it into a neat little package. I don’t have to try to elaborate on some habit I have, or find a reason for the way I act. I can say I’m a ranger, and they accept that at face value. They don’t tend to ask more questions. Unlike someone else I know.”

“You can’t blame me for being curious.”

“And why can’t I do that?”

“Because you’re the only ranger I know. You’re the source of my information. Soon enough I’ll know all the dirty little secrets you rangers keep from the rest of us.”

“Sure, Haroch.”

“I’ve never met anyone who kept as many secrets as you do.”

“Yes, well, I need to.”

Veridis stands and crosses camp to snag two apples from one of the sacks. Haroch rolls onto his side to watch him go. Veridis tosses one of the apples to Haroch as he returns to his side. Haroch snatches it out of the air and sits back up, turning the apple over in his hands. He twists the stem off and flicks it into the water. Veridis watches it as it floats away and vanishes beneath the surface.

“If I asked you something, Veridis, would you answer honestly?”

“Depends on the question, I suppose.”

“Right. How would you feel about another game, then?”

“I don’t think I could find something new to spot if my life depended on it.”

Haroch chuckles, pressing the back of his hand to his lips to cover the half-chewed apple in his mouth. For a bastard raised on a farm in the grasslands of Froel, he has good manners. Veridis only spent a couple of hours in Roldt’s presence, but he has no doubt that all the good in Haroch came from his uncle.

“Not that one. No, I used to play this one with my little sister. I suppose it isn’t actually much of a game, though.”

“What is it, then?”

“An exchange of information. I ask you something, you answer. You ask me something, I answer. Whatever we want to ask, but you only answer what you’re willing to share.”

Veridis bites into his apple as a way to buy himself more time. He’s finding, lately, that he does enjoy Haroch’s company, and talking with him seems to make the day pass quicker. Still, he could ask things the answers of which would put Veridis in danger.

“I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to?”

“Nope. And if I ask something that crosses a line, feel free to tell me off. Just as I would if you pushed too far.”

“Would you?”

Haroch shrugs with a grin. “Probably. I never needed to with my sister, so I can’t say for sure. Then again, she was much younger than you.”

“… Alright. I’ll play your game. If I get to ask the first question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a sister?”

“Technically I have two. Also two brothers. My father’s children with his wife, of course. Kheidan is hardly younger than I. Then there is Rona and Wynmar. Pennaedra is the youngest. She’s the one who would play games with me. She was just shy of her fourth year when I had to leave.”

“It sounds like you care for her very much.”

“I do,” he says. He smiles sadly at his hands. “Aceline hated that Pennaedra would spend so much time with me. Oh, but I love her. She’s the sweetest girl. Never cared that the rest of her family hated me.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t see her before we left Aerilon.”

Haroch waves his hand dismissively. “We would have needed to go to Penketh for that, and I’d really rather not have to see my father or Aceline. Besides, I’m not sure Pennaedra would even know me anymore.”

“All the same.”

Haroch looks at Veridis as if seeing him for the first time. The tightness around his eyes softens. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he swallows a couple of times.

“Thank you.”

It isn’t until he clears his throat and turns away that Veridis realizes how close they’ve gotten. He scooches away as subtly as he can.

“What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

Green skirts and freckled shoulders flash through Veridis’s mind. He shakes his head with a frown.

“No. Or… yes? Not exactly.”

Haroch’s breath comes out in an amused huff. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“My father was married once before he knew my mother. They had a daughter together. We met only once, when I was young.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yes, well, I don’t like to dwell in the past. I mean, why don’t you ever talk about your family?”

“I tried to avoid all of them if I was able to. Other than Roldt and Pennaedra, they aren’t good people. Kheidan, in particular, is rather cruel. And I suppose I don’t see the value in sharing stories about people I don’t care for.”

A beat passes as Haroch flings the rest of his apple across the stream.

“What were your parents like?”

The question makes Veridis’s blood run cold. He has to remind himself several times over that he doesn’t need to answer if he doesn’t want to. He shouldn’t. If he does, he should lie. The less that Haroch knows about him, the better. If Haroch is oblivious, he’s safe, and there is one less person in this world who could track Veridis.

And yet, there’s a part of him that needs to answer Haroch honestly. Veridis has no doubt that it is the same part of him that wanted Haroch on the team. The same part that has allowed a certain amount of openness. The same part that will undoubtedly get him killed one day.

Veridis tosses the core of his apple into the stream and leans forward so he can let the water run over his hands. When he sits back, he dries his hands against his shirt. He can feel Haroch’s eyes on him. He doesn’t know if the nervous tremble in his fingers is a result of Haroch or his question.

“I never knew my father very well. We were… distant with each other. He never loved my mother the way he loved his first wife, and there were times I wasn’t sure he even remembered that she was there. Oh, but my mother… she was withdrawn from the world much of the time. There were times she didn’t know I was around, and other times she simply didn’t care for my presence. But she loved my father dearly.

“’He likes the summer,’ I can remember her saying. She would go into a frenzy every year after the first snow. Her cheeks would be painted and she would trade her usual dresses for gowns that were bright and vibrant. She was glorious under the influence of winter. Where others always seemed to crumple in the cold, she blossomed.

“It was these times that I loved her most, that I needed her most. These were the times when she would remember me. Her arms would cradle me and her hair would tickle my face and her lips would sing praises for me. But… only in the winter. Only when she was bright, when she wrapped herself in satin gowns colored like the summer.

“Her favorite was a soft orange, more pink than yellow, and I remember it brought out the light that appeared in her eyes during those months. The hope and the warmth and the gentleness. But when the snow stopped falling and the first buds burst, she was gone. The gowns were gone, the paint on her cheeks was gone, the laughter and smiles and embraces were all gone. It was like she would take all the happiness in the world with her when she closed herself off again.

“’He likes the summer,’ she would say, and become the summer for him. But it was an act, like everything she did. When the real summer came, she could not be what she was not. She couldn’t make my father love her the way she deserved.”

For a long while, the only sounds are the burbling steam and the soft susurrate of the breeze through the grass. Veridis clenches his hands into fists to stop the trembling, but it feels now as if his entire body is a taut bowstring. He’s honestly not sure if a response from Haroch would release the tension or add to it. He can’t bring himself to face Haroch; his eyes have started to unfocus from where he’s locked on to a rock on the opposite bank. He can feel his teeth grating as if his jaw has been wired shut.

Haroch lets out a soft breath. The warmth of a hand hovers over Veridis’s shoulder briefly before it is drawn away without ever touching. Then the hand returns- this time on the ground beside Veridis’s hand, just inside his field of vision. There to hold if he wants it, but not forcing interaction.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak at once,” Haroch murmurs.

Veridis chokes on a quivering laugh. After a few more deep breaths, he is able to look at Haroch. He’s watching Veridis carefully, as if he might startle and flee like a while animal. Veridis can’t say that the thought hasn’t crossed his mind. He swallows to try and rid himself of the lump that has formed in his throat, but nothing happens.

Veridis feels shaky and unstable, like he could be blown away if the breeze were but a breath stronger. Though he left out key identifying details, everything that he’s said is the truth. It has been a long while since he’s thought about his mother at this length.

Usually, the briefest thoughts of home invoke anger or fear, but now… Never in the three years since he left has he considered returning. Never has he imagined his mother, shut in the house with no one to comfort her in the spring time.

Veridis wonders how she survived the first winter that he was gone.

Hot tears prick at his eyes. He blinks rapidly to banish them, startled and confused by their presence. For a second, he believes he might fall over. He places both hands on the ground to either side of him to steady himself and draw in a quivering breath.

“I didn’t mean to say so much,” he finally manages to whisper.

Haroch supplies a gentle smile. “I’m glad you told me.”

He doesn’t say anything more during the time it takes Veridis to compose himself. He doesn’t touch Veridis, either, but Veridis can feel the warmth of Haroch’s hand beside his own.

Inside Duchess Meghan’s Emotional Farewell to Royal Life at a Private Engagement

It was supposed to be a quiet day off in the countryside until my phone went berserk—the staccato buzz I set for palace correspondence almost sending it off the table. “His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Harry to Ms. Meghan Markle,” the November 27, 2017, email read, followed by a note inviting royal correspondents to join the couple for a special photo call to mark the occasion. A few road rules may have been bent to make the 80-ish mile drive from Oxfordshire to Kensington Palace—in traffic—but it was worth it. Standing by the lily-covered Sunken Pond as Harry shared his joy at finally finding his teammate, it was the perfect start to a chapter that would finally bring the royal family into the 21st century. Over the months and years that followed, I closely shadowed the work of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, getting to know the couple better through their humanitarian endeavors, engagements, and overseas visits. Their high-energy work ethic and passion for social justice attracted a new, more diverse demographic of royal watcher to the scene. As a young(ish), biracial royal correspondent, the change was exciting. And as their popularity grew around the world, so did a new golden era for the House of Windsor. Never did I expect that less than two and half years later I would be standing in one of the State Rooms at Buckingham Palace as the Duchess of Sussex emotionally bids much-loved aides farewell, with her flight “home” to Canada leaving in a matter of hours. But then, neither did the couple. After starting the year with a formal proposal to move into part-time working royal roles, and bring some much-needed privacy and safety to their family life, Harry and Meghan’s hopes were quickly dashed by an institution seemingly unable to accept change as a viable option (even though some royals across Europe—and even other members of the British royal family—have succeeded in balancing duties to the crown and individual careers). To say they were crushed is an understatement. It’s a decision that the couple still feel wasn’t necessary, but also wasn’t a surprise, given the lack of support they received as they were relentlessly attacked by sections of the British press with almost daily mistruths and hateful commentary. While recent tabloid coverage has made it seem like the Sussexes’ half-in-half-out bid was about wanting it all, the reality was a couple who were left with no other choice but to create their own change after being left to fend for themselves against impossible circumstances—even during her pregnancy. They knew something had to change, but they also didn’t want to stop supporting the queen. One can’t help but wonder if things might have been different if a family member or two had stood up for them during the darkest times. Despite the pain and difficulties behind the scenes, work has continued to be a priority for the duchess, who is excited to be carrying over her four royal patronages into the Sussexes’ new chapter. It’s also the reason why I was at Buckingham Palace's 1844 Room on Monday, having been invited alongside two other journalists to cover Meghan’s final engagement as a senior working royal: meeting 22 students who have received scholarships from the Association of Commonwealth Universities (ACU). As their royal patron—a role she took over from the queen in 2019—Meghan will continue to prioritize the organization even after officially stepping back on March 31, especially given her position as the vice president of the Queen’s Commonwealth Trust and a former scholarship student herself. In fact, Meghan’s time at Illinois’s prestigious Northwestern University, where she majored in international relations and theater, is what drew her to the ACU in the first place. “The value and importance of higher education is why it should be accessible to everyone, no matter your background,” she says. For Commonwealth Day, March 9, the ACU brought together some of their brightest minds for a private meeting with the duchess, ahead of their attendance at Westminster Abbey’s Commonwealth Service, where some would bear the flags of their countries. The students are all studying masters or PhDs in the U.K. after receiving scholarships from the ACU’s three programs—Commonwealth Scholars, Chevening Scholars, and the ACU Blue Charter Fellow. “That’s what so powerful,” says Meghan, a long-time champion of the importance of universal access to higher education. “This incredible union and the ability to gain so much knowledge and to be able to take that back home.” Chatting with the scholars, the duchess is eager to hear more about how their studies will contribute to tackling the many challenges our world faces today. As she talks with the students, it becomes clear that she’s already done her research on why each guest was invited. It’s inspiring to seeing someone so prepared for these types of engagements, as opposed to just showing up for the photographs. But Meghan doesn’t know any other way of doing it. “I think it’s so important to actually engage with people,”she explains.“I care about these things!” The ACU has seen over 90,000 scholars come through their administered programs, and those invited to Monday’s meeting represent 11 Commonwealth countries in total. Halima Ali, a lawyer from Kenya who is currently studying for her masters in energy and natural resources law at London’s Queen Mary University, says Meghan’s role as patron is hugely important. “For Commonwealth and also Africa countries,” she says,“to see her, her interest, her participation, means a lot to us.” Meghan seems particularly impressed as she chats with Archana Kaliyaraj Selva Kumar, a chemistry student at Oxford University, who has devoted much of her time to using her research to create a new sustainable energy-storing battery that can help communities back in India without wired power. She is also an advocate for helping more women get into science. “What an incredible role model you are,” Meghan tells her. “And seeing is believing. Others see you and ... seeing someone in that space is so inspiring.” During a conversation with a female PhD student from Kenya, Meghan’s eyes light up when the subject of sustainable travel comes up. “That’s something my husband is incredibly passionate about,” she tells the Sheffield Hallam University student. “During our travels to Botswana and different parts of Africa, we’ve seen the link between tourism and how much money is going outside of the country instead of back to communities. There has to be a symbiotic relationship.” For her own travels with Harry, Meghan prefers to move around in a way that allows them to integrate with the locals. “When we go to Botswana, we grab a backpack and pitch a tent!” Meghan laughs. “It’s not much, but that’s how we like it!” Standing at the side of the room, I spot Secretary General of the ACU Joanna Newman looking on proudly. She came to know the duchess well from their numerous ACU engagements and meetings together, and is excited about their relationship continuing long into the future. “She has been a fantastic amplifier of ACU messages to much broader audiences for us,” she tells me, adding that her patronage has given the ACU coverage in places they could have never reached before, including Harper's BAZAAR. She calls Meghan a powerful spokesperson, recalling how she started public conversations about the lack of Black professors and even period poverty.>“The headlines haven’t been about what our patron is wearing or the official engagement started at this time and ended at that time and there was a cup of tea in the middle, it’s about why we are doing what we do and why ACU exists. She’s been a real champion of the work that universities do.” The ACU meeting came at the end of what Sussex aides have nicknamed a “farewell tour” for Harry and Meghan—a chance to tie up loose ends at the palace while taking on a slew of final royal engagements. The itinerary has been packed, starting when I joined the Duke of Sussex in Edinburgh, Scotland, on February 26 as his sustainable travel initiative, Travalyst, entered its next development phase. The ambitious project will be a key component of the Sussexes’ philanthropic portfolio, and it’s become extremely clear just how important the cause is to Harry, who regularly takes part in meetings behind the scenes. Chatting with him one-on-one recently, I was struck by how knowledgeable he has become in this field; his many trips to Botswana inspired the beginnings of the initiative more than a year ago. As one of the attendees at the Edinburgh work summit whispered to me after his speech, “He’s about to change the game for good.” Reuniting after five days apart, Harry and Meghan’s showstopping arrival at the Endeavour Fund Awards served as a reminder of their ability to command the world’s attention. “Nothing to see here, just Meghan Markle showing the fuck out during her final round of royal duties,” wrote a Twitter user, as the pictures of the couple beaming under their umbrella went viral around the world. Inside the ceremony, the focus was firmly on the veterans being honored, all speaking highly of the duke, or Captain Wales, as he’s better known in the veteran community. It’s that mission to support servicemen and servicewomen that has seen Harry pledge to continue to support the community in his new non-working royal life, not just in the United Kingdom but also in North America too. The first task? Bringing the work of the Endeavour Fund and Invictus Games, both of which he helped establish, closer together. Harry’s lifelong commitment is why Saturday’s Mountbatten Festival of Music was a particularly difficult moment, wearing his Captain General of the Royal Marines uniform for the last time. Giving up his royal duties has resulted in his military honors coming to an end—a particularly tough pill to swallow and something that has been just as difficult for his wife to witness. It is, a source close to the couple tells me, a wound that will take time to heal for Harry. Meghan’s surprise appearance at an East London school for International Women’s Day and more traditional royal engagements such as Harry opening an immersive British motorsport museum alongside Lewis Hamilton (“There's nothing better than officially opening a building that is very much open,” the duke joked about the Silverstone Experience, which first opened its doors in October 2019) that rounded out what has been a roller coaster of a farewell visit for the Sussexes. Getting on with the work has always been what it’s been about for Harry and Meghan, but behind the smiles of the photos has been a vulnerable couple who are still very much hurting. Back at Buckingham Palace, the ACU students now en route to Westminster Abbey and Harry quietly slipping through the door to say hello, the reality—and the emotions—finally set in as I give Meghan a goodbye hug. She’s flying back to Canada on the last commercial flight of the day, eager to be back in Vancouver Island to be there when Archie wakes up. For a couple who only ever wanted to focus on their work and bring good to the world, it seems like an unnecessarily cruel ending to their royal lives. Forced to give up roles they’re incredibly proud of after sacrificing so much to get there. At this point, the grand Drawing Room is almost empty and tears that the duchess had been bravely holding back are free to flow among familiar faces. As she embraces some of the loyal staff she will most likely not see again, I can’t help but feel sad for the dedicated team members whose tireless efforts—to promote the couple’s work, launch landmark projects, and deal with the near-daily crises brought on by tabloid lies—have come to an abrupt end. Compared to other royal households, it was a smaller operation, with less resources than the more sophisticated offices at Clarence House and Kensington Palace, but in the short space of a year since setting up, Team Sussex had become like a family, looking out for the couple as much as they could. While the weeks and months ahead will no doubt present new challenges for the Sussexes, the couple genuinely feel a sense of excitement about what’s to come, which includes the freedom to work at a pace that suits them, no longer weighed down by protocol or threatened by toxic agendas. And while much has been (incorrectly) speculated about specific commercial endeavors they might be taking on, both Harry and Meghan are eager to get stuck into their work, which will still revolve around their humanitarian efforts and helping amplify the voices of young people around the world on a wide gamut of issues. “The terrain may be a little different but their priorities are exactly the same as before,” a well-placed source tells me. “Keeping the family, most importantly Archie, safe is what will make all of this worth it.” (x)