#unexpected angst

[bb-bluearcher]

...I just haaaaad to look up the meaning of the Three of Swords Tarot Card...

...

...take this information however you see fit....

[belleoftheballpoint]

Day 9 of 12 Days of Christmas

Title - Winter Convergence Ball Day/Prompt(s) - Attending a Winter Ball/Party; Stocking/Present from @12daysofchristmas Fandom/Character(s)/Ship - Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard x Elizabeth Weir Warnings (if applicable): this was just an excuse to get Elizabeth in an evening gown; unexpected angst; holiday fic with a twist

Beta'd by @odakota-rose. Except for the last scene, which is even a surprise to her. :)

The invitation looked like ice. Elizabeth turned it over in her hands, watching the way the embedded crystals caught Atlantis's ambient light and scattered it across the surface of her desk. Theralian script curled in pale-blue strokes around the border; the translation she had run sat innocuously on her tablet beside it.

"The annual Winter Convergence Ball," she read aloud, mostly to herself. "Formal attire requested. Guests of honor."

"Plural," John said from the chair opposite her desk. "You know what that means."

"It means the Theralians are formal people," she said dryly. "And that they appreciate our continued cooperation in sharing Ancient technology and military intelligence."

He tipped his chair back onto two legs, balancing like it was a sport. "I was going to say it means you have to drag me into some kind of... tunic thing again, but sure. Diplomacy. That too."

She hid a smile, placing the invitation down with more care than necessary. On the surface, this was just another diplomatic event. Another ally, another negotiation wrapped in ritual and tradition. Underneath, though...

"It's important," she said softly.

He let the chair drop onto all four legs, the faint thud a punctuation mark. "I know."

He did; that was one of the reasons she'd fallen for him in the first place. Beneath the laid-back, insubordinate-flyboy routine, there was always a precise awareness of what mattered.

His fingers drummed once on his thigh, casual. "So. Do we go?"

"We're their primary point of contact. They mentioned us by name." She lifted the invitation, tapped the section where their titles appeared side by side. "Doctor Elizabeth Weir. Colonel John Sheppard. Guests of honor."

"Sounds like a date," he said lightly.

Her gaze flicked up to him. For a second, the office was very small.

It wasn't a date, not officially. Officially, it was an appearance by the civilian and military leaders of Atlantis at a culturally significant ceremony. Officially, no one knew that the evening before last, she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder while a movie played on a laptop in his quarters; that his fingers had been in her hair when she woke; that she'd stolen a kiss from him in the shadowed corner of the balcony two hours before a briefing—just like no one knew about the night three months ago, when a mission gone wrong had left them trapped under collapsing Ancient stone, breathing recycled air from a failing life-support pack. He'd held her hand through the last dwindling minutes like he wasn't ready to let go of the world if it meant letting go of her.

They hadn't talked about what shifted after that near-death moment. They didn't have to. Something had cracked open and stayed open.

Ever since, their lives had rearranged themselves around quiet, careful gravitational pulls: a shared mug of coffee at dawn, the brush of his thumb over the back of her knuckles when no one was looking, her presence in his quarters on nights when sleep wouldn't come.

Unofficially... they already belonged to each other.

Keep Reading on AO3

[ninjago-happens-here]

After much procrastination, I give you...

Lloyd Garmadon in a penguin hoodie!

part 1 (shark) | part 2 (duck) | part 3 (t-rex) | part 4 (frog)

[ask-the-ineffable-being]

Why make your creations ticklish?

God paused for a moment, "After I first created the angels they just...laughed, almost all the time, they were so happy. However after their duties were assigned they became much more serious. All business, always trying to prove their love to me."

...

"I couldn't just command them to laugh. So I made most of the new creations ticklish." The lord smiles at Bertie as she picked him up, "You can imagine how upset Lucifer got over that. It was one of the few things I didn't let him manipulate me over."

[rwby-rambles]

Yang: Hey Blake. I need to talk to you. I need you to listen.

Blake: ...

Yang: I'm sorry for acting like that the other day. I still have some things I'm working through.

Yang: But you just wanted to make me feel safe and that you'd still be around, I see that now.

Yang: I shouldn't have walked away. I should've said what was on my mind. What was on my heart. So I'll do it now. Just, please listen.

Blake: ...

Yang: I don't want you to protect me. I want you to stand by my side, and let me stand by yours.

Yang: I want to face Adam and defeat him with you. Get through all of this craziness with you.

Yang: And I want to hold your hand, like you held mine back then.

Yang: Because I love you. I love you so much and I can't lose you again... I can't.

Yang: I just... I just wished you'd wake up, Blake...

[squishymewlove]

[shannaraisles]

“Your smile is beyond gorgeous… please, keep doing it.” or "Shut up and kiss me already." for whichever OC + LI you want!

My choice ... well, they kind of chose for me. Here’s a wee snippet of Rumor x Callum Hawke. And thank you for the prompt!

“Your smile, my lady, is beyond gorgeous ... please, keep doing it.”

The line was so awful, and delivered with such commitment, Rumor felt herself snort into her glass. Dragged to a fancy soiree at the request of his mother, who felt it was time he started making himself available to be married to a nice rich girl with good teeth, Callum Hawke was doing his damnedest to put them all off him while at the same time saying nothing that Leandra would disapprove of if it got back to her. It was resulting in some truly terrible compliments, delivered from behind the worst attempt at a charming smile Kirkwall had ever seen. No wonder most of these ladies were politely excusing themselves.

Why was she here? Well, she’d had business. Yes, that was the excuse she was going to stick to. It had nothing to do with Callum being here, on display for the rich and hungry. Nothing at all. After all, he was sleeping with Isabela. And so was she. Just not ... together. She bit down on her own lip, the sharp pain just shy of breaking the skin, more than enough to jerk her out of the downward spiral into feeling sorry for herself. She watched from the corner of her eye as yet another noble girl awkwardly excused herself from Callum’s gleefully earnest attentions, catching a glimpse of his self-satisfied smile.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” she asked, her own smile turning just a little wicked as he choked on his wine, spluttering in an attempt not to spit the mouthful down his pretty tunic.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, grabbing a cloth from a passing servant to dab at the spill on his chest.

“Watching you offer yourself to Kirkwall, safe in the knowledge none of them want to risk marrying you,” she informed him with an impish cast to her smile. “I may have had business with the host, too.”

“And Lord Delauncet is happy to let you wander through his party?”

Callum finally looked at her properly, and Rumor felt the barest flutter at the look on his face. In order to blend into a gathering of nobles, she’d had to pretty up a little. Isabela had thoroughly enjoyed painting her eyes with kohl to make the startling blue really pop, her lips with a red so rich it was almost blood dark. Leda had volunteered an hour of her time to loop the upper part of Rumor’s hair into a braided crown, leaving the rest to fall free. And, of all people, Varric had held her hand while she selected a dress. It was almost as though everyone knew the real reason she wanted to be here. But the reaction was definitely worth it. She’d never seen anyone’s jaw drop quite like that before.

His eyes started to drift downward before he caught himself, always a gentleman, but the blush that seemed to rise beneath the scruff on his cheeks was proof positive that he had definitely caught more than a glimpse of the neckline that made her look surprisingly well-endowed. He cleared his throat, glancing away, and fidgeted with the hem of his tunic.

“So ... nice party, hmm?”

Rumor laughed, shaking her head at his awkwardness. “Not a patch on the shindigs they throw in Lowtown,” she told him, glad to see him relax with a far more natural grin.

“We could always skip this one and start something in The Hanged Man,” Callum suggested, gently nudging her elbow with his forearm.

“Eager to escape your duty to be adorable for the noble masses, aren’t you?” she countered, sipping her wine to hide the satisfaction in her smile at his reluctance to be here.

He sighed. “I do not want to marry a noble woman, I want to ...” He trailed off, his blue-eyed gaze flickering toward her briefly. “It keeps Mother happy. She knows I don’t want to be a part of her noble life, but ...”

“She wants you to be acclaimed and praised for the man you are,” Rumor told him quietly. Oddly - or perhaps not - she was in complete agreement with Leandra on that point. “She’s proud of you.”

“She wants grandchildren,” Callum said bluntly, rolling his eyes as, across the room, he spotted his mother encouraging yet another flapping ninny to come and speak to him. “I feel like a stallion being sent out to stud.”

Rumor felt herself chuckle lightly, but the smile faded from her face quicker than she wanted. This was a different world to the circles he usually walked in, but he fitted here just as well as he fitted in her world. Better, perhaps - a nobleman should be handsome and strong, gentle and kind. These people looked down on him for being just a mercenary for hire, but his looks alone would earn him plenty of willing bedfellows. The sting of jealousy rose as she remembered Isabela’s gleeful teasing about Callum’s expertise in bed, and a rebellious spark flared.

“Could always give the nobles some gossip that’ll make her happy,” she offered, setting her glass down on the nearest flat surface. Her hand caught his, bare skin to bare skin something of a shock to her system as she stepped backward, out onto the open balcony that overlooked the city.

“How is this going to become gossip?” Callum laughed as he followed her, the warm weight of his hand settling with startling security about her own. “We’re on a balcony.”

“Aye, and everyone here thinks I’m some mysterious noble heiress with pots of money and a title to die for,” she pointed out, raising her brow. “Feel me up a bit where they can see us, and everyone’ll be congratulating her on your skills as noble bait in no time.”

He gaped at her, his eyes drawn downward once more to where midnight velvet cupped soft peaks he had been trying very hard not to think about for more than three years now. He swallowed, forcing his gaze to hers once more.

“You ... that could be a little awkward,” he attempted to say, raising a hand to rub his fingers through his hair. “Mother does know who you are, you’ve met. I mean, not when you’re ...” He gestured to her noble get-up. “... like this, but she does know that you’re not a noble. And there’s Isabela to consider; she made a very firm threat against my testicles should I do anything to mess with you -”

“Cal.”

He stuttered into silence at the firm intonation of his name. Not even his name, but a nickname no one but she used for him. Rumor raised her brow, feeling a warm glow in her chest at the knowledge that Isabela hadn’t told him not to approach her, just not to mess with her. Wise woman, for all her inability to keep her hands off even when she knew someone else was interested.

She stepped close to him, dancing her fingertips teasingly over the cling of his stained tunic. “Shut up and kiss me already, would you?”

His mouth worked silently for a long moment, remembrances of Isabela’s threat, Varric’s warning, his own unwillingness to let himself hope for anything more than this woman’s friendship, all battering through his mind. But here she was, looking utterly edible in noble finery that showed off all the hints her usual attire only suggested at, asking him to - no, telling him to kiss her. And while his mind was prevaricating, his body had other ideas.

Large hands more used to holding a sword slid over her sides, tentative only because he’d seen what she did to people who touched without permission. But he did have permission, even if it was only to save him the embarrassment of being noble bait and give his mother something to preen about with her noble friends. His eyes flickered from Rumor’s astonishingly blue eyes to the rich dark red of her lips, smiling in invitation ... and his mind abruptly lost the battle. 

He pulled her close to his chest, head dipping to capture her lips with his own, stealing her breath to savor the taste of the deadly little woman in his arms as she gasped for him. There was no hesitation in that kiss, no sense of testing the waters. He had longed for this kiss for entirely too long, and if this was going to be his only opportunity, then he was going to make certain it was one to remember. Strong arms wrapped about her waist as her fingers crept up to tease over his beard, into his hair, the gripping tug of her touch spurring him on to let his hands wander just a little from their place at her hips, seeking the smooth dip of her spine to stroke fingertips over the first swell of her backside as the other hand rose to gently tilt her neck, lips demanding more than a simple kiss.

All thought of the nobles, of his mother, of Isabela, of jealousy ... it was all swept clean from Rumor’s mind. All she could think of, all she could focus on, was the man in her arms, doing his damnedest to pick her apart with just a kiss. Was it all just for show? Was this passion in him a pretense to send those gossips running to please his mother with their feigned excitement and eager bitterness? But those fears were a world away behind the rising tide of her own long-suppressed desire, blanketed in the warmth that she refused to give a name to. She wanted ... and it felt as though he did, too, pressing her back against a cold stone column to ravish her mouth as she nipped at his lips, tugging on the sandy hair she had imagined doing just this to for far too long.

A harsh laugh from the room beyond broke their clinch, both of them lurching away to share ragged breaths in the shadows of the balcony. They had been seen. But that had been the point, hadn’t it? So why were they still wrapped around each other, nose to nose, desire soft and hungry in the eyes that locked in the darkness? Callum leaned down to her again ... and Rumor abruptly remembered why she couldn’t let this go any further. 

“No,” she denied, shaking her head as she pressed against his chest, slipping from his arms. “They’ve got their gossip. Time for me to go.”

“But -”

His protest died on his lips as she slipped away, back into the house, through the crowd, leaving him on the balcony with confusion in his head, an ache in his heart, and an indecent bulge in his pants he was going to have to stay out here for a while to let subside. That ... wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. She was supposed to stay, to let herself feel what he knew she was feeling now he’d tasted it on her lips. She wasn’t supposed to run away from him, not again. Not this time.

He straightened his shoulders, glancing down from the balcony to the city beyond, a city that had given him nothing but what he had fought for with his own hands. Well, this was a fight he was prepared to win, even if it meant getting slapped a few times by the stubbornest woman he’d ever known. Then he remembered who was waiting for him tonight. Isabela.

“Shit.”

Well, that got away from me, somewhat! Fun, though.

[Romantic/Fluff Starters]

[flymetothemoo1]

I have just finished reading my silly little sapphic YA book and they kill off 2 of the 4 main characters?!?

What is this?

I did not sign up for this angst