tagging as spoilers just to be safe


His eyes were narrowed in that way people do when they’re trying hard to appear casual, but it was obvious this story was anything but casual to him.
                                       They were just such small hurts, you know?

A small part of Gansey suspected what hearing his own name really meant. He knew it, probably, by the time his friends came to his car’s rescue an hour later. He knew it, probably, when the psychics at 300 Fox Way read a tarot card for him. He knew it, probably, when he retold the entire story to Roger Malory in person. 

home, forgiven and loved...

Post-6X17 ficlet. I set out to write something longer, but liked the short, sweet and dialogue-free feel of this instead. 

He’s sure the water is pinking his skin from the heat, but it feels too good to cool the temperature, each hot droplet hitting his shoulders taking a bit of tension with it on its way down towards the drain. She’d already whisked the dirt and grime away with her magic, but after too many days in the same clothes and without a proper wash he knew he wouldn’t truly feel clean until he was able to do it himself.

He lets his fingers trace the bottles along the ledge, Emma’s shampoo, her body wash and his shampoo, all lined up together next to the bar of soap he still prefers over the liquid most use in this modern realm. There’s nothing truly earth shattering about the bottles, but the sight of them causes his breath to hitch and his eyes to glaze over with happy tears.

He’s home. He’s forgiven. He’s loved.

She can hear the water still running upstairs and has a thought to stop her current task of making grilled cheese sandwiches so she can strip off her clothes and join him. But he’d looked so tired…and hungry, a different kind of hunger than is currently swirling up a storm deep in her belly. There’s time for that later. Hopefully sooner, but she’ll settle for later.

Even though she’s alone, she mentally blames the heat from the burners for the flush of heat behind her cheeks as she flips the sandwich over with the spatula to brown the other side. Her ring catches the overhead light on the stove and she turns her hand this way and that, watching the prisms dance about as her lips curl into a joyous smile.

He’s home. She’s forgiven. She’s loved.

The smell of grilled cheese welcomes him as he pads into their bedroom with just his towel around his waist, seeing Emma waiting for him on the bed with a napkin and a smile. She jumps to her feet to meet him, halting him with her hands at his waist and a light kiss to his lips. Her hand slides between them on his chest and he breathes in deep, releasing the air from his lungs on a trembling sigh as her magic sparks with warmth against his skin. Unlike the quick rehab she’d done back in the loft, this is more thorough, her fingertips tracing along each and every rib, up, and over his rapidly pounding heart. Unable to resist, he takes her lips in a more urgent kiss, cupping her cheek as her hand moves to his forehead to trace where she’d already healed the gash left behind by a Lost Boy’s spear.

Her fingertips are still tingling as her hands wrap around his back, the front of her sweater dampening from the water from his chest as she pulls him in close. He knows he needs food…and rest…but he needs this, her, more than the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. She doesn’t resist as he moves to lift the sweater over her head, looking almost relieved as she smiles and makes quick work of her jeans and the rest of her clothes. His towel gets tangled between their legs as he falls with her on the mattress, sighing against her mouth as she urges him without ceremony to settle between her thighs. They both cry out as he begins to move within her, her strong hands keeping him from lifting his head so every breath, every word spoken rumbles over their still joined lips. His release barrels down on him too soon, but she’s right there with him, her body rising to meet his, a soul rendering lovemaking he both wants to last forever and come to its glorious conclusion all at the same time.

Later, they sit naked together under the covers eating cold grilled cheese sandwiches and talk. They speak of everything that has happened while they apart, and more importantly, everything that lead to their separation in the first place. It’s hard, but necessary, for her to trust that he will never leave her and for him to believe that he can finally be done apologizing for his past.

When sleep eventually comes, it’s with her head on his chest, their legs tangled and the ring finger of her left hand sparkling atop his heart.

They’re home. They’re forgiven. They’re loved.

I was thinking about where Wren would be in Andromeda, and being angara probably suits him best.

He was born and raised on Aya. If he were in the game he’d be an optional fling hanging out around the café. After diplomatic relations are established with the angara, he can be found in the Vortex on the Nexus.


I’M STILL ONLY IN ACT 2 SO PLEASE DON’T TALK ABOUT SHADOWS OF VALENTIA SPOILERS IN RESPONSES OR TAGS… But I recently read some tidbits about Act 6 that were about our favorite deadbeat dragon dad, and of course since they go against some of DE’s “canon”, I needed to create a stupid joke to get around it.

And here it is.