#Angsty oneshot

[pixiekiwi]

Comfort || Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

a/n: if you’re interested, i am writing a stiles stilinski x fem!oc on my wattpad linked here: veggiekiwi

warnings: angst, mentions of death

words: 897

—

“I’m so tired.”

Were the three words that finally broke you, hearing them uttered from your boyfriend’s mouth.

Your eyes widened with fear as you turned to Stiles, who was attempting to sleep next to you, after a week of nightmares, waking up screaming - he had probably gotten a total of 8 hours of sleep in the past week. Your heart broke at the sight of him looking at you, something unexplainable swam in his whiskey irises illuminated by the moonlight.

“Oh Stiles,” you whispered, turning your body towards his, your hand traveling to his pale cheek. He was cold, which scared you, and he was crying, which scared you even more. Stiles was never known to break easily, he was a man of honor, portrayed himself as strong, when inside he saw himself as weak.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he admitted quietly, tears falling down his nose as he stared into your eyes, “I’m afraid to sleep (Y/N),” he paused. His own larger hand goes to your chin, brushing it softly before retracting it, “I'm afraid.”

You felt like sobbing right then and there, hearing those words fall from his mouth. After the past year of fighting supernatural, it was rare to hear Stiles admit to something like that, after his father almost got sacrificed, after almost losing you. He had to be strong, and especially in front of you.

It wasn’t your turn to be comforted though, instead it was his. You pulled his body into yours, his head resting under yours as you kissed the top of his head, his shoulders beginning to rack with sobs, “I just want to sleep Y/N. I’m tired of these nightmares, the days I think I’m dreaming-” He cut himself off, wrapping his strong arms around your lower frame, they almost felt weak.

You shushed him slowly, stroking his hair in comfort. Truthfully, you didn’t know what to say, you hadn’t gone through what the boy did, so you let him cry into your chest, holding him as much as needed, letting him release the feelings he was keeping within himself.

“It’s okay my love,” you began to whisper, “It’s okay to be tired, you’ve gone through so much, you’re only 17.” You continued to stroke the boy's hair, one hand moving to his back, “You’re the strongest person I know, Stiles.” You admitted, and this was true, out of the whole pack, you truly believed it.

The boy in your arms shook his head slowly, “That’s just it (Y/N),” he whispered, moving from your grasp to meet your eyes, “I’m not strong, I feel so weak. I’m human, I can’t do things the way you can, the way Scott can, I can’t do anything.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at the revelation of the boy's feelings, “Stiles…” You began, your voice low, “That’s not true,” you shook your head, your hands going to the boys under eyes wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “You’re the smartest, strongest person I’ve ever met. You are constantly there for the pack, we can always count on you for anything.” You kissed the boy's cheek tenderly, “You always figure shit out.” You smiled weakly at this statement, hoping to cheer the boy up, which you did slightly. His eyes lit up as they stared into your own.

He shook his head, wiping his tears haphazardly, “You don’t get it.”

Your heart shattered at these words, your eyes casting downward to your legs entangled with his. He was right, you didn’t get it, you never really would. But that wouldn't stop you from trying to understand, Stiles needed you to, whether he knew it or not.

It was silent for a while, your eyes drifting back up to the boy in front of you, his eyes already on you. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you (Y/N),” he spoke, his voice hoarse from crying. His hand moved to your cheek.

You held a small smile at his touch, something that’s always comforted you, “We couldn’t have done it without you. I couldn’t have done it without you Stiles.

His head shook, “I almost lost you (Y/N),” his voice broke with these words, tears fell again at the thought of that fateful night, you in his arms, dying. “There was nothing I could do to save you, I couldn’t take your pain, I couldn’t heal you-“ you cut him off, your gentle hand going to his chin.

“Stiles.” your soft voice echoing in his ears, “I don’t need that from you, what you did, holding me there, comforting me,” you stopped yourself, attempting to hold yourself together, thinking about the way he begged and pleaded for you to be okay that night. “You were everything I needed Stiles.” you pursed your lips, pulling your body closer to his, “You always will be.”

Stiles accepted you moving closer to him, he wrapped and arm around you and used his other to tilt your chin upwards, kissing you tenderly. As he pulled away there was a look of hope in his eye, but something else that you couldn’t decipher. He smiled weakly at you, “I love you (Y/N),” he whispered, his brown eyes scanning your face.

You pushed yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his frame and muttering into his bare chest, “I love you Stiles.”

[znerac]

Hey (I never know how to start asking stuff)

Could I have a fic base on this cover version I think it make a great Pedro pascal fic (or one of his characters)(I think the cover sound more heartbreaking)

https://youtu.be/aQ-vU28uPb0

(King of Leon-dancing on my own)

Thank u

From abby

Got a good angst idea from this!! Hope it was what you were going for!

No pronouns except they/them were used for a reader-friendly Experience :)

Song cover

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader. Warning: heavy angst, abandoning, abandonment issues, crying, hurt/comfort, mutual pining. Summary: Pedro invites his best friend to a bar, who has had a thing for him for years. Pedro inevitably forgets about the readers existance as he talk to a girl on the other side of the club. Where the reader gets feels and breaks down. A/N: i LOVE me some good angst! Hopefully the little spark of romance at the end fits nicely :) I've been conjuring up this idea since the ping!

Dancing On My Own

You and Pedro have been friends for ages, early in your teen years you guys had met. Secretly, you had always had a bit of a crush on your guy-friend. But in fear of rejection, you had kept those feelings for over twenty years. And he never made a move on you so you assumed he didn't feel like you did.

You sat on the island stool as Pedro shrugged on a jacket, smiling over at you. "Excited? We haven't been out in a few weeks." he chimed, planting his palms on the island counter. You gave him a warm smile, nodding. "Oh, yeah. I've been looking forward to some Pedrito time" you hummed, hopping off the stool. He snickered at the name, brushing his hands on his jeans before heading to the door. "Think we'll need to get an uber tonight?" you ask, and he shook his head. "Nahh, I'm not plannin on getting that drunk. Just loose and dancy" he said with a grin. Those beautiful brown eyes staring into yours. You were glad to have such an opportunity to have him look at you so often.

Walking to his car, you called dibs on the aux. Knowing he would of handed it to you anyways, but you liked the spunk in your step. Hopping into the passenger seat, and snatching the aux. Giddily changing it to your favorite playlist and looking over at Pedro with a smile as he did with you. Sinking his foot on the pedal and getting out of the driveway.

"Jesus, you've been playing this song since we were teenagers" Pedro said, chuckling softly. "Oh please, says the man who puts on the same chilean song on repeat for hours" you teased, making him bat his hand at you playfully. "Its a good song!!" he defended, ultimately accepting the defeat and stopping at a red light. "Wanna grab a bite to eat before we hit the club?" he asks, and you nod. "I could definitely eat some five guys right now" you said with a knowing glare, Pedro let out a fake moan, "God you know me so welll.." he said with a smile, the thought of his favorite fast food restaurant filling his senses. "Alright. Five guys and then the club. On it" you say with a tap to the dash.

Dinner was great, you laughed as Pedro took his sweet time eating his burger and drinking that strawberry milkshake of his. While you were done and snacking on the complimentary peanuts. You didn't mind though, soaking up every second with your best friend. After all, his work is busy and you were missing having time with him.

Once you both were happy and full, Pedro drove the two of you to the bar he had in mind. One that was usually not so crowded, but tonight was apparently different, there was a good crowd.

You and pedro sat at the bar and ordered a couple drinks, sipping at them and chatting, like the good old days when you first turned 20. The memories planting a sweet smile on your face. Pedro furrowed his brows, "what are you smiling about?" he teases, nudging your shoulder. Snapping from your trance, you hummed "thinkin about when we first turned twenty and came to a bar like this" you said, sipping on the bitter drink you had. Pedro nodded "reminicing? Jesus your old" he joked, making you roll your eyes and sip on your drink.

There was a good hour where you two sat, chatted and drank. Occasionally speaking with the occasional stranger. Until a song that came on that made you both spring up to your feet. "Shit, Pedro, this is our song!!" you yipped, dragging him to the dance floor. He laughs, "Our song? You mean the song that-" you interrupted "-That was playing when i crashed into you during the valentines day dance! Yes! The day we met" you said with a playful wink, taking his hands and twirling the man in front of you. "Right, the night you ultimately ruined my life with your presence" he joked back, shaking his hips and pulling from your grip.

You laughed, "oh shut up! I made your life better you little ass" you yelled, the music and chatter making it hard to hear each other. Pedro chuckled, "sure you did" he retorts, then looks over as a pretty woman taps his shoulder. "Hey, can i dance with ya?" she asks, Pedro looking over at you to make sure you were alright with it. You gave him a simple nod, "I'll grab another drink, check in when your done dancing" you said, giving Pedro an honest smile before walking off the dance floor and getting to the bar. It was nice seeing Pedro get along with people, and he was good with checking in on you. So you weren't worried. Ordering another drink as you sat on a stool and chatted up the bar tender.

Well, Half an hour went on and Pedro hadn't come to say anything. But you brushed it off, ordering another drink. And then another when he didn't show an hour later. You bit your lip, anxious that he'd maybe gotton kidnapped or something. But with a simple turn of your stool you saw the opposite. Pedro was in the corner with the same chick, Talking her up with a grand smile, even gently touching her arm in an attempt to flirt. You held your breath, you weren't against him meeting some new girl or whatever. But it just itched at you that maybe he forgot about you.

You glanced at the bartender, asking for a few shots to loosen yourself up more. And when you glanced back at pedro, your stomach dropped seeing him all over her. Kissing and touching one another like they were the only ones in the room. Your gut made your voice crack as you asked for a few more shots. Downing them all at once. Sure, it was dumb to drink your feelings out. But it just hurt seeing him so interested in somebody like that. Especially after hiding your feelings for him for so long. You sat on your stool, fighting back the burning of tears threatening to fall. And you looked at the bartender, sliding your card over to pay for your drinks. Pedro wasn't going to come back, you knew that.

It felt like a sharp object impaled your stomach, taking your card back and getting to your feet, feeling your stomach twist as you saw pedro in the corner booth with that woman. You swallowed the lump in your throat and left the bar, unsure of where you were exactly going, but you couldn't be in there. Knowing that he forgot about you, knowing he wouldn't come back and likely take that chick to bed. You felt like throwing up. Holding your stomach as you walked down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your cheeks and falling to the cement.

The alcohol quickly rutted into your system, making you dizzy. You needed to sit somewhere, finding a bench and sitting as you held your stomach. You felt alone, sad, and heartbroken. A sob catching in your throat, erupting as tears fell out of your eyes. Eventually you saw a cop car pull up, and a male officer stepped out. Anxiety crept through your throat as you wiped your tears away and looked up at the officer now standing above you. "You alright there bud?" he asked, full well knowing you weren't. You shook your head. "I'm drunk, sad, and i just, i don't know what i want" you shuddered. The officer nodded, putting a hand out. "I'll give you a ride home. Its dangerous bein out this late." he said, and you deliberately took his hand, uncaring if this was unsafe. Stepping into a cops car. It was likely to turn out fine, but you still had to play the 'what if' game.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you sniffed as you buckled yourself in. The officer taking the drivers seat. "Alright, where do ya live? I'll take you home nice and safe" he said, looking over at you. For some reason the officers caring eyes made you break a small smile, telling him your address. Thanking the universe for an easy way home.

"Whats got you all upset?" he asked, eyes keen on the road, "boy problems?" he joked softly, trying to up the mood. You frowned and let out a small sob, to which he frowned at. "Sorry." he mumbled out. The rest of the ride silent, but comfortable. You sincerely thanked him before stumbling inside of your house, kicking your shoes off and heading upstairs. Falling into your bed and letting your tears take over. Sobbing as you felt broken, being forgotton was a fear of yours. And when it came to life, with your best friend.. You couldn't help but feel worse.

At some point you fell asleep, but woke up around three in the morning to hear your phone dinging and vibrating. Deliriously picking it up and answering the phone call. Humming to indicate you were there.

"Fuck, finally! Where did you go? I've been trying to call you for ages!"

You knew that voice. Pedro's concerned tone made you choke out a sob, remembering how he left you alone for hours. "I- are you okay? Whats wrong?" he asked, but you couldn't get yourself to answer, croaking out an 'im sorry' before hanging up.

Around half an hour went by before you heard your front door swing open. You didn't care to get up, laying helplessly in bed as your thoughts took over you. But moments later, Pedro stood in your doorframe, soft eyes looking over at you. "Oh honey-" he said softly, walking to your side and sitting on the bed, hand coming to rest on your leg. "What happened? Did some guy hurt ya? Whats wrong-"

"Pedro" you mumbled out, not even bothering to wipe your tears this time. "You left me for hours.. Didn't say anything to me" you said weakly, "then you were all over that chick.. Obviously you wanted nothing to do with me.. So i left" you whispered, catching a sob in your throat. Pedro looked down at you, his eyes saddening. "I'm sorry.. I- just got distracted-" he said, noticing how his excused meant nothing. "I.. Really am sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel forgotten. Please forgive me" he said, feeling his own gut drop and swirl around.

You whimpered, covering yourself more with the blanket you had covering yourself. "Pedro.. Have you ever.. Like, Liked me?" you asked, avoiding his gaze. When he said nothing, you let out a shaky sigh. "I-i've been in love with you for years.. Pedro.. But you never seemed interested so i didn't say anything" you started, "but you always made sure i was there, made sure you had time for me. Maybe thats why i stuck to you"

You bit your lip, looking over at his soft face. Pedro sighed, "look i.. I didn't know. I should of though about you." he says, "if I'm being completely honest i thought you were never interested in me, so i never tried to say something.. But your on my mind every single day. I promise." he admitted, laying down next to you and pulling you into his chest. "I love you, so much. And i.. Want to make it up to you. What i did was shitty. I don't know why i was so blind." he stated, running his fingers through your hair.

You sobbed quietly, "do you really mean it?" you croaked, looking up at him. Pedro nodded, hand caressing and resting on your cheek. "I love you. I have been in love with you for so long.. Hearing you say how you feel just makes me realize how dumb i was for not taking my chances with such an amazing and gorgeous person like you" he said with a soft smile.

You couldn't help but crack a smile, "i-i love you to" you said softly, then eyes shifting to his lips. He chuckled, "I'm not going to make another mistake like that. I'm gonna treat you right.." he said, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb. "Starting now.." he mumbles, leaning down and connecting your lips in a soft and loving kiss.

*****

A/N: okay i might of been half asleep writing this but i hope you enjoyed at least! I know i enjoyed writing this! Not proofread because im tired and want this out ××

[mysteriouslover1516]

Broken (Richy x MC) 1

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of death and suicide

Based on Jonah Kagen's song Broken

Richy  watched as Hannah hurried away from him, nearly stumbling in her rush. He knew Alan would find her now, everything was turning out fine in the end. He just hoped that one day she could find it in her heart to forgive him for all the fear he had put her through. Was that too much to ask for?

I'm broken

Tell you I'm fine

He chuckled ruefully, no one would have ever suspected him to be the cause of everything. He hadn’t meant for it to go this far, but something unexpected had happened. Amy killed herself because of him, he got scared. He had to hide the evidence, meaning he had to kidnap Hannah. The plan to “recover” her was nearly perfect, pin it all on a man who had been declared dead, aka Michael Hanson. Michael would then kill himself in a fiery death while Hannah and him seemingly escaped. He had to make sure the legend became real, that he was seen and the Man without a Face was sighted. Smearing his own shop with the mark of the raven, he was successful in making it look like he was another victim in it all. He then forced himself to attack Jessy, convincing everyone else even further that the MWAF was an outsider, someone unknown to the group. It was all going according to plan, but then Phil was arrested. 

But you wouldn't believe me

If you knew the things that crossed my mind

The police had found a match box from the Aurora next to Amy’s body. But the matchbox hadn’t come from the bartender, it was Richy’s. He was known to always keep a small matchbox in his back pocket just in case his lighter didn’t work and he still needed a cigarette. It must have fallen out when he was positioning the body, he didn’t even realize it was gone till it was too late. There was no going back, the police had found it, Cleo and Thomas had caught wind of the evidence. In order to keep the suspicion off of himself, Richy had encouraged them to search the bar and look for discriminatory evidence. It was easy to convince them that Phil played a part in Hannah’s disappearance, afterall, Phil’s own recorded words against the girl didn’t exactly work in his favor.

And I'm hurting

But I show no sign

It was easy enough to hide the pain and guilt behind smiles and closed doors, no one sensed his involvement in any of this mess. He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t ask for both Jennifer and Amy’s blood on his hands, but there was no going back. He couldn’t afford for anyone to know the truth, not after Amy’s suicide.

'Cause I'm afraid to give in

Break down, and waste your time

He ripped the mask off his face and slumped to the ground, head in his hands. His shoulder burned, the makeshift-bandage slowly falling off, revealing his gunshot wound. He hadn’t expected Dan to shoot him. Who even had let that guy out of the hospital anyway? He chuckled at the thought then groaned in pain, bad idea.

Now I'm begging you

To come and pull me out the fire

The plan had been foiled, the seeping wound in his shoulder providing evidence against him. It was impossible to walk out of the mine now, it would reveal him as the kidnapper, the perpetrator behind everything. His plan had erupted into flames…….burning the possibility of a happy ending for himself.

Come and save me

Like you did when we were young

His hands trembled as he drenched the ground with gasoline, the fumes making his head spin. It was too late, there was no other way out, no one would come and save him. He didn’t deserve redemption, another chance, he deserved his fate and he knew it.

Oh, please come bring me out

From my lowest, take me higher

For a moment he watched the flame flicker in his hand, his life flashing before him. There was no savior for him, hope had vanished. It was time to end this.

Can you see me

Through the ashes and the smoke?

The gasoline ignited with a roar, the mine immediately transforming  into a hot furnace. The mechanic coughed and covered his mouth with his arm, only to slump back against the wall. There was no point in trying to cover his mouth, he was going to die either way. No one was going to find him in time, and that was okay, this was what his actions had merited him.

I'm lonely

It's been so long

Since I felt love

To smile, felt strong

He was going to die alone, something which saddened him at the realization. He was born alone and he was destined to die alone. Fate was cruel, wasn’t it? Or was Fate just punishing him for all the pain he had caused? He didn’t know the answer anymore. His memory wouldn’t be missed, no one could possibly love him after all this, he had lost everything.

And what can I do?

When I'm not friends with my reflection

When I don't understand affection like you do

He didn’t like who he was, the man he had become, the monster within himself. It was better this way, he needed to rid the world of himself, he was doing everyone a favor….

You say that you'll help me

You tell me I'm worth it

MC had wanted to help, he knew what toll it took on her when he faked his own death. But he had to do it in order to protect her, he had a reason for it all. She was too innocent, too trusting, she had befriended the devil in front of her.

He should have never fallen for her, but it was outside his power to resist her charm. She was so sweet, lively, so empathetic, one of the kindest souls he had ever met. He had fallen for her, and she had fallen for him, someone who was too cowardly to admit his involvement in everything.  

But I don't deserve it

I don't deserve it

Richy didn’t deserve rescue, he didn’t deserve another chance at life. Redemption was out of his reach, his life was slipping through his fingertips. But that was what he deserved, right? He deserved to suffocate, to die, he deserved the fumes that were sucking his very source of life away.

It's easy for you

'Cause you know your perfect

And I need your hand

But I don't want to burn it

Tears started to fall down his face, drying quickly in the hot air. He wished he could be saved, that his friends could find it in themselves to forgive him. He desperately wanted someone to reach their hand in and save him, but he couldn’t burden anyone anymore, it was too late.

MC was perfect, and he had stained her innocence, put her in harm's way, made her experience things he had never wished for her to ever see. He had hurt her, made her cry, he broke the trust of the one person he had loved.

There's blood on the counter

And tears on the pages

While I write you a letter

And then I quickly erase it

I'm shattered and beat down

Broken and weak now

He wanted forgiveness, the closure it could provide, he wanted rescue. But it was too late, he had gone too far, there was too much against him, he was better off this way. MC would never forgive him, she would always see him in a different light now if she knew the truth.

So I'm begging you

To come and pull me out the fire

Come quickly

'Cause I'm burning up inside

His eyes transfixed on the flames coming closer, almost catching fire to the hem of his pants. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He then started to sob, lungs burning as they filled with smoke, his heart feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest. He was going to die.

Oh, please just bring me up

From my lowest, take me higher

Can you see me

Through the ashes and the smoke?

He knew no one would risk going into the mines to find him, he was going to die alone. At least he wasn’t going to drag anyone else with him along to the grave, right?

Pull me out

Pull me out

He was dying, and that was okay, because then at least no one would suffer anymore. The world would be a better place without him, he was doing everyone a favor. No one needed him in their lives, it was going to be okay, one day he would be thanked for his sacrifice. “I’m sorry, MC….”

Hey lovelies! ;) Another angsty oneshot, I'm sorry. I hope you guys can appreciate the tragic beauty in it, I wanted to cry too while writing it. Please leave your likes and comments below, I love hearing from all of you! :)

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[jqnehr]

Neuvillette has cried over you.

The man feels unworthy of you. Of your eyes, ones that look at him with such unadulterated adoration; of your smile, one that never falls when with him, one that rivals the sun and stars in all their shining glory; of your presence, a presence that serves as a balm to his frayed nerves and weary bones after another long, gruelling, dull trial; and of your touch, one that always brushes back his hair with pure tenderness, one that cradles his cheek lovingly as he lets the dam break and tears fall forth. 

Whenever the self-deprecation settles in, whenever the sun’s rays are blinded by the clouds gathering, preparing to pour forth its dismal tears, you are always there to kiss his cheek and murmur soft words of reassurance, to make him understand his worth. That always makes his heart tear open a little bit more—not for it bleed out and its beats slow to a halt, but for his sheer love for you to surge forth like the seas’ waves as a storm sweeps its waters up high, to crash down heavily, enveloping you within its clasp.

He has cried over how much you adore him, and he has wept over the fear—that overwhelming, all-consuming and unrelenting fear—of you leaving him. If the Chief Justice’s spirits are always dashed when you leave only temporarily, how will he manage the pain of your permanent departure, one that is inevitable?

Neuvillette curses his immortality. He laments over a human’s short lifespan, one that lasts for barely a century. Eighty years seems like a millenia to a mortal person, but it is a mere blink for a being such as himself. 

He is only left with the moments he has now—moments he must cherish and lock away deep within his heart while he can; steel himself for the preordained—for that is all he is left with.

One day, he will hold your hand for the final time—and that will be the final time he ever lets someone hold his hand.

[cilliansdove]

BLEEDING HEART || tommy shelby oneshot

pairings: tommy shelby x fem!reader

warnings: violence, angst, comfort,

summary: Y/n had been struggling with her husband distancing himself from her. In the heat of the moment, tommy breaks down and tells her what’s going on.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow through the silk of the curtains. Tommy still hadn’t come to bed, which wasn’t odd- just…lonesome. Again.

I tugged on the material of my nightgown as I stared at myself through the mirror. I felt useless without Tommy. Didn’t know what to do with myself.

And every time I tried to communicate with him, he’d push me away as though I meant nothing to him.

I thought about trying again tonight…

With a hard knock, I waited outside the door to his office.

I heard his gruff voice answer back, “Come in.”

My heavy feet dragged me to the front of his desk, and I could already feel the tears in my eyes.

Tommy blew out the smoke from his mouth and looked up at me through his glasses.

“What’s the matter, Love?” A frown appeared on his face.

I took a deep breath in, “Did I do something…?”

“What’d you mean, Love?” He looked at me with a frown and nodded at his lap, “C’mere, Doll.”

I made my way over to his lap and sat comfortably on it, whilst I leant my head on his shoulder and played with my fingers.

I felt his hands in my hair, stroking soothingly, making me hum.

Slowly, I looked up at him through my lashes, “Are you…okay, Tom?” I asked nervously.

“What makes you ask, hmm?”

I pulled myself up and placed my legs on either side of his waist, “Feels like you’re distancing yourself from me,” I tucked my face into his neck, “Have I done something?”

Tommy coughed slightly, “No, Doll, you haven’t done anything. But you should’ve told me how you felt sooner.”

I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked at him intently, “I didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t know how you’d react…I didn’t want to upset you,” I whispered the last part, and brushed my nose against his.

In response, Tommy closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, “There’s things going on, Doll. Bad things. Things your pretty little head doesn’t need to get worked up over.”

I rolled my eyes and got off his lap. In frustration my voice raises, “But this is what I mean! You just- you just completely shut me out! Why?!”

Tommy stood up immediately and paced over, grabbing my shoulders, “You’ll do as you’re told, Y/n, that’s the end of it.”

My heart ached in my chest, I could feel the pain engulfing me, but I couldn’t say anything about it- no.

“Tommy I…I just want to help you.”

His wrath burst and he threw a glass at the wall, “I don’t need your help!!”

I flinched in fear, watching the glass shatter across the floorboards. I looked back at him, with wide eyes and my mouth hung open.

“Y/n...just go to bed,” he rubbed his face with his hand and turned away from me.

I stared up at the ceiling, pushing the tears back in so they wouldn’t all flood out. I sorted myself out and then took a deep breath in.

“Where would you like me to sleep?” I asked softly.

Tommy scoffed, “In our bedroom.”

I nodded. However for some reason, my feet wouldn’t carry me back out.

Tommy had caught onto the fact I was still there, and he turned around harshly to face me.

“Get out, Y/n.��

I took a step forward till my chest met his, “Talk to me.” I shook my head but looked at him with a pleading look in my eyes.

He sighed and leant his head on mine.

“It’s not something I need to discuss with you. Now go.”

His tone was soft but stern. He sounded…exhausted?

In response, I nodded- just once, and then left.

I didn’t go to bed though.

Quietly, I went downstairs and sat myself on the sofa, with a glass of whiskey. I don’t know how long I had sat there for, speaking muffled words to myself.

The heavy steps that came down the stairs alerted me, and I stood up, plotting my glass on the centre table.

Tommy’s figure curled around the doorframe, and he frowned, placing his rough hands in his pockets.

“I told you to go to bed.”

“Well, I didn’t,” I snapped back.

He paced towards me and out of fear I  stepped backwards until my back had hit the bookshelf. A single book fell to the floor, which made my breath hitch.

Tommy gripped my shoulders tightly and stared at me with a harsh look in his eye.

I swallowed down my fear and bit down hard on my cheeks.

“I’m not going to tell you again, eh? Go. To. Bed.” His words came out like venom on his tongue, and I gaped at him intensely.

I writhed out of his grip and pushed him away.

"Why are you being like this?!"

My words came out strained and I felt the pain in my throat rise.

Tommy took a deep breath and then sighed through his nose, "Because...I'm scared, okay?"

My mouth hung open agape as I stared at him with teary eyes, "Tom..."

"Don't. I don't want your sympathy."

I walked steadily toward him and grabbed his tensed hand, "Tommy look at me."

His shame filled eyes met mine and I tilted my head at him, "It's okay to be scared, yeah? I don't expect perfect from you all the time, but hiding the way you're feeling is causing you to be more stressed. And I don't like it."

Tommy leant down to plant a kiss on my temple. In response, I let out a soft hum of content.

His hands trailed down to my hips, making soft circles on them. I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his torso whilst I buried my face in the warmth of his chest.

It wrapped me in comfort. I hadn't been this close to him in so long.

"Stop shutting me out," I whispered softly.

Tommy moved his hands into my hair and stroked it gently.

"I will, Love. I will."

[cutierika]

; falling out of love

warning: angst

Tartaglia has been acting .. weird, recently. He doesn’t give you morning kisses anymore, his daily hugs, and even refuses to spend quality time with you. You can’t bring yourself to break up with him, no, you love him too much for that. Is he falling out of love? If so, what made him fall out of love? What did you do wrong?

A/N: I didn’t proofread this, so there might be some mistakes.

Stressed. It was one word to describe how you’ve been feeling this past week. Well, stressed was an understatement.

It was just another freezing, dark and cold night. You wouldn’t even dare try to look out the window, it’d just make you feel even more colder due to the amount of snow outside.

Childe was late. Again. You couldn’t really blame him, though. Being a Fatui Harbinger was hard work. Childe should’ve already came home 2 hours ago. He usually comes home at 11 pm, but it’s now 1 AM. And here you are, sitting on the couch, watching TV, waiting for your lover to come home.

The food that you cooked for him still laid neatly on the table, though the food was already cold. You sigh to yourself, standing up from the couch, and throwing the food away. It’s not like he was going to eat it anyway. He just comes home, gives you a lazy kiss on the cheek, then heads to the bedroom to sleep.

You two share the same bed, yet everytime you two slept together, it’s like he wasn’t even there. His back would be faced at you, not even bothering to acknowledge you.

But.. He’s just tired, right?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Sitting back down on the couch, the front door swung open. Childe was finally back from work.

“Darling!” You exclaim, jumping up from the couch to pepper him with kisses and embrace him onto a tight hug.

“Hey, my love,” Childe replied, leaning down so that he could be at eye-level with you, giving you a lousy kiss on the cheek, and walking away, heading upstairs to the bedroom.

You frown as Childe gently pushes you off him, heading upstairs to the bedroom. You sigh, why are you even surprised? It’s not like this is anything new.

You followed him upstairs, and Childe was already in his leisure clothes, sleeping peacefully on the bed. His back was faced to you, as usual.

You were in the mood for cuddling, surely he wouldn’t mind you hugging him? You don’t mind being a big spoon every now and then. You two haven’t been really doing basic stuff couples would do, anyways. Like, kissing, gift giving, giving each other compliments..

You laid down beside him, snuggling up closer to him.

Childe sighs, “Baby, not really in the mood.”

“Since when are you ever?” You quickly replied.

Childe lets out a soft hum. “Please, honey, just.. let me rest. It’s been a long day.”

You scoff, but not bothering to say anything else. He’s right, it has been a long day for him. Not wanting to stress him out any further, you turn to your side, also facing your back at him.

Well, that was awkward. Well, to be honest, your whole relationship with Childe has been awkward recently.

You woke up to the sound of Childe’s alarm. It was now 5 AM. It must be tough for him, huh? Arriving home at 1 in the morning, and then having to get up at 5 in the morning.

Maybe he’s right. Yeah, it’s always a long day for him. All you have to do is be a good girlfriend and let him do his job.

…

No. You’ve decided to follow him to work.

It was dangerous and risky, considering he’s a Fatui Harbinger, but you couldn’t help it. These thoughts were slowly making you insane. You were overthinking, and you always let those thoughts win.

Hiding behind tree to tree while following him, he was just slaying hilichurls or treasure hoarders that got in his way.

You weren’t really noticing anything suspicious. You roll your eyes, you look so stupid right now. Following your boyfriend to work, just because you thought he was cheating on you.

You turn around, heading back home, until you hear a voice.

It was a female voice, calling out Childe’s name.

“Childe! There you are”, your eyes widen, your head immediately snapping to the direction of the voice.

It was a woman with blonde, short hair and— Wait, isn’t that Lumine, the traveller?!

“Hello, gorgeous.” Childe replied, with a flirty and seductive tone. “How’ve you been? You know, without me being by your side and all.” Childe chuckled and winked at her.

Did he just call Lumine “gorgeous”? Just what exactly is going on here?

Lumine giggles. “Don’t be such a tease. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Mmh. Sure you are.” Childe replied.

Your whole body froze, your body going limp. You wanted to dig a hole and hide in there forever. No, stop overthinking. Lumine’s probably just.. A close friend of Childe.

Wrong.

Childe steps closer to Lumine, his arms snaking around her waist as Lumine wrapped her arms around his neck.

Childe leans in closer to Lumine, their lips just an inch apart away from each other.

They kissed.

Tears started swelling up your eyes, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You turned around and immediately ran back home.

Thoughts started running through your mind, “Did the 2 years we spent together mean nothing to him?”, “Did he ever even love me? What about all those promises he made? Were they nothing but empty promises?”, “Was I nothing but a toy to him?”

You arrive home, swinging the front door open, wiping your tears away, though it was no use. Tears still poured out your eyes, running down your cheeks like a waterfall.

You laid down on the couch, closing your eyes, allowing the tears to spill down through your cheeks.

Before you knew it, it was already 11:17 PM. Childe should be home in three minutes. You sat up on the couch, and you instantly recall the moment when you caught Childe kissing Lumine. You bite down on your lower lip. It takes every fiber in your being to not have a mental breakdown once again.

The front door swung open, Childe greeting you with a lazy smile. “Hello, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” You immediately retorted. You put on a tough and strong act, not wanting Childe to see you so weak and vulnerable like you were a few hours ago.

“Hm? What’s wrong? What do you mean?” Childe questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“What? You thought I wasn’t going to find out? I saw you make out with Lumine. I’m not a fool.”

Childe’s face turned pale. “Don’t be silly. You know I only love you.”

“Is that all you know how to do? Lie through your teeth?” You were furious. “How long has this been going on?”

Childe didn’t respond for a while, “..2 months.”

This just made you angered even more. All those times where he didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even face you while sleeping on the bed, didn’t even kiss you on the lips anymore, hell, didn’t even hug you! It all made sense now. How did you not realize sooner?

“Look, I’m sor–”

“Save it.”

It takes everything in you to not slap Childe, though you know that won’t fix anything. “I’m leaving.”

“Baby, don’t! Please, just a second chance.” Childe pleaded. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you! Please, my love. Don’t do this!”

You scoff, facing your back at him and leaving through the front door.

Childe mischievously smirked as you left.

He knew how you were. You were gonna come back crawling to him in no time.

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

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

haha, how was it?, sorry if there were any mistakes. Feel free to point them out.

i take requests !! make sure that it’s genshin related <3 .

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝

Part Two Part One

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

Comforting angst

warnings: character death, depression, lots of crying.

Days passed, days since your ki- hang out with Luke. 

Hang out? Who were you kidding? It was clear it wasn’t him. 

But you’d laid yourself bare to him, been about to confess all your feelings and he had just shut you down and run away. 

Of course you didn’t wanna talk about it in the morning. 

The tragedy was he did. 

And just when you were feeling better, and your conversations weren’t so awkward, fate tossed you to the ground again, as it often did. You still didn’t really believe it. 

Cecilia, your cabin counsellor, your beloved older sister had died on the road to college. It seemed impossible. 

Of course, they’d had a brief ceremony, a burning of a golden yellow shroud weaved with her own fingers. And then they’d appointed you as cabin counsellor, announced a bunch of new kids had arrived and everyone forgot. 

It made you sick to think people would forget Cecilia. That the three Apollo kids your cabin had greeted would grow up without her and never know of her presence.

Obviously, your cabin was upset, but they didn’t make it so as Aphrodite always did. The sun keeps shining, and Apollo kids kept going, laughing, training, even if muffled sobs could be heard the first few nights. They never talked of her, and after the first week, she was a sad little scar that had scabbed. 

It still hurt a little, but the memory was what hurt the most. 

Except for you. She was still a mortal, lethal wound for you. And it was getting harder and harder to keep your composure and pretend everything was okay. 

Shortly, it all cracked and spilled out from you. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault really. Chiron was just trying to be supportive to little Will, but when he praised enthusiastically that he was the best archer he’d scene for 300 years, tears seemed to burst from you. 

Because that had been Cecilia’s title. She had been the best archer, training all the little ones supportively and making people gasp with the precision of her shots. 

It seemed Chiron had already forgotten. Everyone had. 

It was like losing her all over again. 

No one saw the little sun cracking on the archery field. They just noticed you disappearing behind some clouds. 

You didn’t pay attention to the stares and whiplash glances of some, as you ran back to your cabin with tears streaming, and your heart in your throat. 

Didn’t notice as a tall brunette boy on the sword plains spotted you, dropped his sword immediately and with a shouted apology behind him began to sprint after you. 

Your bed was warm and comforting, the covers swaddled around your shoulders in a safe cocoon as you sobbed your heart and soul onto your pillow. 

Cecelia was dead. Dead. This is what you would deal with every day for the rest of your life, she was dead and she would be replaced and forgotten and no one would even know her and-

The door creaked open and immediately you stilled, pretending to be asleep. 

“Y/N?” It was Luke. 

Not the timing, you thought to yourself miserably. 

“Y-yeah,” you tried for a sleepy yawn, but it came out cracked and pained. Ugh. 

“You ok?” He asked quietly, and you heard his footsteps approach. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just woke up.” But your voice was hollow and very much awake. 

He sat softly at the edge of your bed, and for a while you were both still. Only your breath was audible. Then, tentatively and slowly, you began to feel his warm fingers slide through your hair. It was so comforting and lovely that you had to swallow down the wave of tears that surfaced. 

“It’s okay, you know,” he murmured, your hair in glorious tangles around his knuckles, “to cry. You don’t have to pretend. Especially for me.”

“Yeah, I know,” you whispered back, “it’s just-“ you hesitated. 

I love you. 

I don’t want to burden you with all my stupid problems. 

“You probably don’t want to talk about this to anyone, right? Me included.” He guessed, and he began to retract his fingers and you felt like screaming at how utterly wrong he was. “I’m sorry, I should give you space.”

“No, you don’t have to. You can stay here.” You tried not to beg, but you were inches from clinging onto him to stop his departure. He understood. 

“Would you like me to stay?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Then here I’m staying. In your bed.” He reassured comfortingly, “I mean, on.” 

His flustered stuttering made you smile weakly and turn to face him. 

His whole face softened, lost all his fluster and stress when your eyes met, but you were too busy setting your head into his lap so you faced up at him to notice. 

He traced your tear tracks, brushing any remaining ones away with his thumbs. 

“I know the pain feels awful,” he said suddenly, “but if you ever feel bad, like you can’t breathe or you’re about to burst, don’t keep it in y/n, come find me. I’m always here for you, always.”

“Thank you.” You said near inaudibly. 

“I hate seeing you cry,” he confessed, his forehead crinkling, “or being sad. It just hurts me. But I love making you feel better, I’d do anything in the world to make you happy, I promise.”

“Thank you.” You said louder this time, your cheeks beginning to heat up. 

It was a peaceful few seconds you gazed at each other, smiling. Then you closed your eyes, comforted. 

You felt warm hands lift your body, and your eyes fluttered open. But it was just Luke lying down beside you and repositioning yourself on his chest. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, “just figured we might be here for a while.”

His arms encircled you, and even in your drunken state of misery, your heart rate sped up. You turned your head slightly, so you could hide your bashful grin in the orange folds of his shirt. His chest was warm, comforting, and you could feel every deep breath he took. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, facing up once more, “your shirt’s probably going to be all soggy after this.”

“I don’t mind a soggy shirt if it makes you happy.” He breathed, and your heart was bursting from the love that statement invoked when you saw his eyes flicker. Your eyes. Your mouth. 

Could he really-

Surely not-

Eyes. Mouth. 

The air was electric, as if Zeus himself was in the cabin. The space was getting tighter and smaller and everything was so close and dizzy and what in the gods before you knew it you were nose to nose and you could feel his warm breath and he was leaning down to kiss you against the pillow. 

It might’ve been the best kiss you ever had. With salt on your tongue, and sweetness from his lips, the tastes of all your emotions were combined, giving way to the most passionate and fantastic kiss you’d ever had. Your head was pressed to the pillow, and he was moving above you, warm, soft and pouring his heart out to you, the gateway his lips. It seemed every single ‘I love you’ either of you had ever been too afraid to say was expressed strongly now, each drop of attraction and love and feeling was encapsulated between the movement of your lips. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay,” he breathed, against your lips, when you finally pulled apart, both of you panting, “I didn’t want to do anything while you were drunk. But of course I wanted to. I wanted you. I have for so long.”

“It’s okay. I have too,” and you laughed, all those emotions and secrets finally free. You were so giddy with joy! But Luke remained tense, nervous for a reason you couldn’t determine. You calmed down, scared it was all about to come crashing down. 

“It’s- it’s not just that, y/n,” he paused, sitting up further away, eyes still looking profoundly into yours, “I love you. I love you, all of you, and you should know that to me you’ve never been a burden, only a miracle to have been with.” 

Your breath was caught in your throat, blown away by his confession. You were expecting he might’ve been crushing on you? But loving you? You’d never dared to consider that as an option. And you were beyond thrilled. 

“Now would be a great time to say anything,” he laughed nervously, fingers brushing over your shoulders restlessly. You immediately felt awful for keeping him waiting. 

“I love you too.” You blurted, letting silence ensue. “You make me so happy every time you make a joke or take care of the new unclaimed kids. I’m just in shock.”

And then the pair of you were laughing together, foreheads pressed together before you were tangled in an embrace, that led to another heated kiss on your bed.

You knew soon other campers would arrive to see two head counselors kissing, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. In fact, while Luke’s like we’re on yours, you couldn’t seem to form any coherent thoughts at all. 

In the back of your mind, you were still sobbing over Cecilia. Deeply, you knew you always would. Your heart would always be chipped in that way, the missing fragment forever in her fist as she wandered Elysium. 

But you also knew how happy she would be to see you thriving, dating and loving Luke, a boy she had always suggested and approved of. She imagined her now, giggling in delight and grinning at what had transpired. And slowly, the pain began to lift. 

Maybe a scar would be okay, as long as you loved and remembered it. 

Most of all, you knew that for as long as you required a shoulder to make soggy, Luke would always be there to be your comfort person. 

taglist:

@lifeonawhim

@sflame15-blog

@star611

I think this was all, if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just comment or message me :)

[lilgoblinbitch]

The Archer Finds a Soulmate 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

girl dad!daryl dixon x fem!reader

a/n: this idea was offered by @yummymeee !! was trying to find fluffy daryl prompts and this one stuck with me.

summary: Daryl is a father of a young girl and has always had trouble trusting new people. When he meets you, everything changes.

warnings: none really, typical twd stuff, just some angst and fluff at the end :)

Daryl Dixon was left raising a child in the apocalypse. He didn't expect to find himself taking care of a baby all by himself after the mother of his child ended up hiding it from him, and on her death bed begging Daryl to keep the baby safe. Of course, Daryl would love his baby girl till the day he died. She was the light of his life. She was the only thing left in this cruel world that reminded him of what made life worth living.

Five years after the start of the apocalypse, Daryl was extremely lucky to have been part of a large community that actually showed not only him, but his little girl, charity and companionship. All he wished for was a safe home and chance for his daughter to grow up happy. Because he never got to have a happy childhood himself, it almost felt imperative for him to manifest his own happiness and prosperity by giving his own kid that opportunity.

"Jasmine! Get outta that pile'a crap and c'mere!"

The five-year-old girl lay on her back in mound of dirt and leaves, swishing her arms and legs back and forth. "Daddy, look! I'm making a dirt angel!"

Daryl scoffed as he peered over at his daughter, who was collecting bits of leaves and sticks and dirt in her hair and probably covering every inch of the fabric of her outfit. An outfit that Carol had recently washed, because it originally got stained with orange juice and pudding. Unfortunately little predicaments like that were bound to happen to any little kid. It didn't bother Daryl, he just didn't want to put more of a burden on Carol.

Daryl stood up from the log he was sitting on, setting the dead rabbit he was working on skinning to the side. "Jas! Ya want food or not?" He called out, waving the playful child over to him. She perked her head up at him, her dark curly hair now decorated with bits of colorful leaves and sticks, almost making her hair look like a Christmas tree in some way. The child obeyed and jumped up from the ground, shaking off the dirt that layered her clothing. And of course, they needed to be washed again.

Joining her father by the fire, Jasmine plopped down on the log across from him and simpered at him. He smiled back after examining her youthful grin and spotting the smeared dirt on her face. "Ya got dirt on yer face, silly girl. Here, wipe yer hands and face with this." He handed her a towel, one that was adorned with pink and purple flowers. She loved that little beach towel. She snatched it out of her father's hands and hastily rubbed it all over her face and hands, then tossing it on the ground. Daryl sighed in distress.

"How many more things of yers we gotta ask Carol to wash?"

"We're outside, daddy. There is dirt, and you say dirt makes us dirty. So it's got to make everything else dirty, right?" Her enthusiasm never failed to make him grin and forget what he was even upset at her about.

"A'ight, watch me, ready?" Daryl grabbed the dead rabbit and continued skinning it, making sure Jasmine was watching him. Her face contorted in disgust.

"I don't wanna do that, daddy! It's gross and it hurts the rabbit."

He ignored her complaining and continued skinning it. "It's dead already. Didn't feel any pain, I promise," he reassured the child. "I just needed to show ya how yer dad makes yer all-time favorite food: rabbit stew."

The little girl shook her head. "No, my favorite food is Carol's cookies, and the Kingdom's cobbler!"

Daryl rolled his eyes, finishing up skinning the rabbit and then sticking it on a stick and placing it over the fire. Throughout their meal, Daryl told her about the time he first ever had to eat rabbit, and how he was around her age. His daughter was always absolutely thrilled to hear stories, especially from her father. She admired him more than he realized. And she looked forward to every Thursday afternoon, because that's when Daryl took her out for walks in the woods, pointing out various plants and showing her how to differentiate between animal tracks and walker tracks. Of course, she was too young to fully understand everything he taught her, but it made him more comfortable knowing that she was learning early on.

Some nights Daryl lay awake, tossing and turning only to say "fuck it" and go out in the woods where he could ease his mind, while his daughter was already fast asleep in the room across the hall. He loved being alone in the woods; just him and no one else to disturb him for a few hours.

However, one night he ended up acquiring company from an unexpected individual: you. Daryl didn't know very much about you, besides the fact that you joined Alexandria not too long after he and his group did. You were quiet and reserved, always keeping to yourself and never being found in large crowds because you were always more content when alone. Daryl often found himself following you into the woods to see what you even did out there, but you were just too quick to spy on. And truthfully, you were afraid of Daryl. You had seen how similar he was to you in some ways; his love for nature and serenity and the comfort of being isolated from the loudness of the community you lived in. You observed him going into the woods and not coming back out for hours, just as you did. He ended up becoming a valued member of Alexandria as he helped Aaron recruit new members to the community. He was becoming more outspoken than you, and that seemed to make you nervous.

Tonight, curiosity got the best of you and you decided to go and see what it was that Daryl the archer father did late at night in the woods, all alone.

Daryl did not anticipate anyone to be as good of a tracker as he was, especially in the dark of night. But being the daughter of a hunter father ended up advantaging you with that skill. So when he heard footsteps and prepared to send an arrow flying and landing between the eyes of a walker, but ended up being face to face with you, he was surprised to say the least.

"Hey, um, Daryl right?" Your flashlight beamed onto his face, and he squinted. "Sorry," you turned it off and shoved it in your pocket, "I just, um...I always see you out here, and I'm always out here, so..."

"So what?" Daryl wasn't in the mood for visitors, especially not annoyingly beautiful women such as yourself. You made him nervous.

Daryl kicked the dirt around with his feet, not looking up at you as you continued to speak to him. "Look, I'm not really a people person, and you probably want nothing to do with me because I never talked to you before...but I–" you stopped to look down at the dirt and shuffle your feet in it as well, involuntarily mimicking Daryl. "I dunno, I just need a friend, I think."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you now, the glow of the small fire illuminating his auburn hair and the specks of hair on his beard. You swallowed hard, becoming a nervous wreck under his hard gaze. "Why me?" Was all he managed to say after studying your face. You finally made eye contact with him after mustering up the courage to do so. He had pretty eyes.

"Because I think we're alike in a lot of ways." You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaned against the thick tree beside you. "And honestly, you're one of the only people I know of that has better tracking skills than me," you added, voice soft and unsure. Unsure of what the mysterious man in front of you was thinking. It seemed like he had so much going on in his head all the time, and that's because he did. His thoughts raced, thoughts about you and how pretty you looked under the sparkling fire and why the hell you were talking to a loser single dad like him.

But you didn't see him like that. You were intimidated by him – always have been, except this time he intimidated you in a way you never expected. He made you want to open up to him, because you could tell now that he was just like you. You went your whole life never wanting to be seen by anyone, but Daryl changed that.

Daryl's lack of words left you in your thoughts once again. What if that was his sign for you to scram? What if he hated you? What if he thought you were a fucking creep for sneaking up on him in the middle of the night in the woods? You couldn't handle the fear of rejection so you took matters into your own hands.

Sighing in defeat, you turned on your heal and started for the other direction back to Alexandria, until you were abruptly stopped in your tracks.

"Wait."

Daryl did not wish for you to leave. He believed you. You were like him. "Ya wanna come hunting?"

Your eyes lit up in elation, and you smiled at him. "Yeah, I'd love to."

After a only a few weeks, you and Daryl became friends. He properly introduced you to his daughter Jasmine, who when meeting you for the first time told you, "You're pretty!" It melted your heart. Yours and Daryl's friendship grew drastically from then on. You respected him a lot, as he did you. The two of you were able to teach each other things about nature and hunting that the other had no clue about; you taught Daryl which herbs were best for different things, and he taught you how to shoot with a crossbow. Of course, your bow and arrow and your dagger were just enough for you already, but it pleased you to know that Daryl actually wanted to teach you.

Soon enough it was evident that you and Daryl were growing a deeper connection than the two of you originally anticipated. But somehow you weren't scared of it. You felt content around him, and it was clear that he felt that way about you, too.

"Jasmine!" Daryl called out, frantically searching the woods for his pesky little daughter. The sun was setting over the tree line ahead of him, clouds painted orange and pink. It was going to be dark soon, and he had no idea where his daughter had run off to.

Daryl found his feet moving on their own, eyes shifting around his surroundings while he attempted to track the footsteps of his daughter. "Jas! C'mon let's go!" Suddenly the sound of a twig snapping filled the air. His heartbeat quickened, and his paternal instincts kicked in. He raced toward the sound, crossbow at the ready.

He was just about ready to shoot whatever was hiding behind the tree but when he saw you walking with Jasmine he stopped in his tracks, lowering his weapon. You and Jasmine both glanced up at him simultaneously, and the little girl ran up to her father and hugged him. A sigh of relief overcame him as he bent down to hug her back. You beamed down at the two of them, admiring how touching the sight was.

"Where were ya?" Daryl stood back up, moving his focus between both you and his daughter. You could tell he was trying his hardest to stay calm, but the fact that his daughter was running off in the woods without him made him feel uneasy and on edge.

"Don't worry, I found her by a stream back there. She told me she wanted to learn how to catch frogs," you reassured him. He grinned and looked down at the girl, who was carrying a red bucket full of croaking amphibians.

"Look how many I caught, daddy!" She lifted the bucket up to Daryl and he peered into it. "Well someone's a professional frog catcher now, ey?" He teased.

The three of you reached the gates and Jasmine hurriedly ran down the street to the other kids outside. You smiled and turned to Daryl, who was already staring at you. You blushed and looked down at your feet.

"Sorry, I should have told you she was with me. She just seemed so excited and I couldn't say no, so–"

"Nah. Don't need to apologize," he interrupted, reaching his hand up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "I, uh, thank you, fer watchin' her."

A gentle breeze drifted through your hair and you brushed stray strands out of your face, all the while Daryl shifted his weight and gathered the pith to express his feelings at that moment. He needed to get it off his chest.

Your doe eyes only impelled him further.

"Uh..." his anxious eyes finally met your passionate ones. "I think Jas might enjoy having ya over fer dinner t'night."

This time you tittered, nodding your head enthusiastically. "If this is your way of wanting more of my company, just say it, Daryl." Your face muscles seriously ached from smiling so hard. "I... I like you. And I would love to come over, honestly, any time."

Daryl's face flushed a shade of pink you'd never seen on him before. It made you giddy. "I like ya too."

That moment felt so cliche – it felt like you and Daryl were part of a silly teenage romcom film. But you two earned that cliche moment. You were surprisingly capable of harvesting a healthy connection with someone who really meant a lot to you.

The magnetic pull between the two of you grew stronger and stronger, reeling your body closer to his. Your hand instinctively brushed against his, making Daryl's insides mushy.

A smirk ran across yours lips and you grabbed Daryl's hand firmly. "C'mon, let's go make some food for tonight."

That evening you cooked venison stew for Daryl and his daughter, by gratitude of the huge buck Daryl scored earlier that morning. Secretly you loved to cook, but you'd only ever cook for someone who was special to you; back in the day you'd always cook for your father after he'd go out hunting and bring back game that gave you an opportunity to create a mouth-watering recipe. Today, that special someone was Daryl. You truly believed he deserved a decent meal from you after everything he'd done for you. He won your trust and respect – even more so your love.

"Thank you."

Daryl was sprawled out on the couch, staring up at you as you had finished cleaning up the dishes. He had already tucked Jasmine into bed up stairs, afterward coming back down to gawk at you.

You wiped your hands on a towel and set it on the counter, turning your attention the the comfortable man on the couch. "No need to thank me. I wanted to cook for you." You joined him on the couch, drowning in the soft cushion and taking in the homey vibe of his living room.

He sat up, turning his body toward you. That expression was painted on his face again – the one that told you he was doubting himself, or that he was trying really hard to articulate his emotions. You took his hands in yours, a decision that caught Daryl by surprise. "You don't need to doubt yourself anymore. I know what you're feeling, trust me."

Your reassurance kindled the spark of courage Daryl so desperately needed. It was as if you were his god, his creator – the one to send him the message from the sky to tell him it was his time to listen to his heart. And so he did.

The archer's rough, calloused fingers traced shapes over the dry skin of your hands. Your gaze melted him like plastic by the fire, and the words your spoke to him spilled from your lips like a prayer.

"Kiss me, Daryl."

Carefully Daryl parted his lips while searching your face for any uncertainties; there were none. And so he kissed you. He kissed you like you were a porcelain doll, suppressing his strength as to not break you. He wanted this kiss to last forever, and so did you.

Daryl trusted his gut that you were the one for him, and boy was that the best decision he ever made right there and then.

[anto-pops]

Lost and Found - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You’d both fucked up, and you both knew it.  But Sebastian was starting to lose himself, and you couldn’t stop sobbing. The air was too thick for words, the pain and the anger and the fear combusting into a shrieking tempest. It was too much to bear in the cavernous room, and you both cracked.  Two years of your steady cadence shuddered and fell like leaves when Sebastian found his voice first.  “I’m fucking done.”

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian dealing with the aftermath of your break-up and working through his feelings.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mild injuries, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 

Mostly Sebastian’s POV following the argument because I wanted to put him through it 

Maybe you were naive for believing your last year at Hogwarts would be easy, but after Ranrok, Rookwood, the Keepers, and the whole debacle with Sebastian in the catacombs, you were desperate for a sense of normalcy. You had deluded yourself into thinking that things could only get better from then on, and for the most part, they had. 

There was something about this semester, though. Something in the air, or in the water. Something in your clothes and in your bed and in your chest that just kept digging deeper and sharper, leaving you uneasy and on edge. 

You and Sebastian had been tense with each other, even though you didn’t mean to be. Neither one of you meant to be assigning blame so harshly, or to be getting so worked up over nothing at all, ending up angry more often than not. Growing up had proven to be fucking scary, though, and the learning curve could be enough to knock most people on their asses and keep them there for a good, long while. You and Sebastian had juggled these fears and told one another about them after you’d both already blown up, and you had apologized quietly for snapping so hard over dumb shit like spilled vials of Wiggenweld, and sometimes it was enough. 

Sometimes, it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t enough when you threw your hands up one night to scold Sebastian too loudly for staying up late, cutting one too many corners, and getting busted in the restricted section. The weeks worth of detentions had only served to set back his schedule, but it was his own damn fault, so why was he complaining in the first place? You clenched your fists and your voice was shaking when, halfway through wondering aloud when Sebastian was going to learn to be fucking responsible, you realized you didn’t mean that, and that it was kind of a fucked up thing to say.

You might have tried to backpedal– to apologize– but Sebastian was tense. He was scared. He had fucked up his end of term project for Potions, and he was positive he’d basically failed an exam in History of Magic earlier today because of how scatterbrained he had been. He had yet to narrow down a potential career path for after school ended, which his professors never let him forget, much to his annoyance. So as you drew in a breath to stutter out an apology, Sebastian was too afraid of hearing more about what a fuckup he was to let you start. 

Blindly, he picked up the closest thing to him on the desk situated between you both, and shot out of his seat to throw it at the wall. It turned out to be an ink container, the black, murky liquid spilling down the walls of the Room of Requirement, and the sound of the shattered pieces of the bottle cascading to the floor was muted by the volume of Sebastian’s cruel words.

When Sebastian was finally out of breath from screaming and your tears were streaming down your cheeks in earnest– the salt trails equal parts rage, disbelief, and guilt– the two of you stared at one another for a long, heavy moment. 

You’d both fucked up, and you both knew it. 

But Sebastian was starting to lose himself, and you couldn’t stop sobbing. The air was too thick for words, the pain and the anger and the fear combusting into a shrieking tempest. It was too much to bear in the cavernous room, and you both cracked. 

Two years of your steady cadence shuddered and fell like leaves when Sebastian found his voice first. 

“I’m fucking done.” 

—

It had been three days of Sebastian actually staying in his dorm. He hadn’t been sleeping at all, but he was there during the night, and Ominis had been forced to listen to his friend toss and turn fitfully since he’d ended things with you so terribly. 

Sebastian could still hear the echoing slam of the massive oak doors of the Room of Requirement. He could still hear the way you’d choked on your words, and when he closed his eyes in his vain attempts to quiet his mind, all he saw was you. Your hands curled into fists, teeth savaging your bottom lip, tears coursing down your face and dripping from your chin as you’d squeezed your bloodshot eyes closed and started erasing him from your mind. 

At least, Sebastian imagined you had. 

Given his shitty academic performance in recent weeks, Sebastian couldn’t afford to skip classes in order to avoid you, but it turned out that he didn’t have to. You hadn’t shown up once to any of your classes– even the ones you didn’t share with him. It hammered home the finality of what had transpired three nights ago, and if he drank a little too much stolen Firewhiskey to cope with the sinking feeling in his chest, Ominis elected not to say anything about it. 

“You’ve been under a lot of stress recently,” Ominis said later that night, squeezing Sebastian’s shoulder as he used the brunet as leverage to lower himself into the couch cushions. The common room was deserted, and Sebastian was grateful for the lack of prying eyes, curling his hand tighter around the neck of the bottle between his legs. “Both of you have. Sometimes, things just boil over.” 

Sebastian didn’t reply at first. He didn’t even know where to fucking start. Stress couldn’t begin to excuse the shit he’d said to you right before he left. In-between your gut-wrenching sobs, he was certain he had heard your heart crack in two at some point, and it was his own fault. Running his hands down his face, Sebastian heaved a trembling sigh, trying to sort out the crappy thoughts bouncing around his tipsy brain. 

“Was she in any of your classes with you today?” Sebastian asked, his gaze trained on the ceiling as he willed the watery tone in his voice away. He had cried enough over everything– his eyes and his throat fucking ached from it. 

Ominis sighed, reaching to the side table for his steaming cup of tea. He worked it into a safe grip before blowing softly, taking a tentative sip. “Not today, no. None of her roommates have seen her in her dorm either– I already asked.” 

Sebastian just wanted to know how you looked. Maybe it was awful of him to think as much, but he liked to imagine you were faring as bad as he was. You were an impossibly strong and powerful witch, willful and understanding, and you got mad so rarely that Sebastian couldn’t help but loathe the idea of you putting on a brave face and smiling until you were over him. 

What right did he have to be thinking such things, though? He was the one who had walked out. 

Ominis said nothing when he heard Sebastian lift the bottle to his lips again, taking a hearty swig that burned on the way down. Tears welled up in his swollen, brown eyes, and they slipped down his cheeks silently, a metaphorical rain cloud looming over his end of the couch. The two men didn’t say a word, but after a while, Ominis tugged Sebastian against his shoulder, letting the heartbroken man cry softly into his pajamas. 

—

“Bloody hell, mate,” Garreth muttered, leaning over his cauldron to get closer to Sebastian. “Two years, though?”

The classroom was quiet, save for the steady bubbling at everyone’s stations. They were supposed to be working on brewing an Edurus Potion, but Garreth seemed more interested in his friend’s failed love life after hearing through the grapevine what had happened. Sebastian didn’t answer, choosing to focus on adding in the Mongrel Fur to his silvery concoction. 

“Together that long and this close to graduation, I thought that was going to turn into fucking marriage, you know? Are you sure it’s–”

Garreth stopped talking when Sebastian slammed his hands down on his table, shattering a flask under the weight of his fist so suddenly, the redhead jumped back with his green eyes blown wide. Sebastian’s stare fell from Garreth to the blood pooling under his palm, biting his tongue through the stinging pain and unintentional tremors while Professor Sharp strode over to see what the commotion was about. 

Docked five house points and dismissed to the Hospital Wing, Sebastian shuffled up the winding staircases in a daze. His head hurt when he walked through the double doors to the infirmary, but he ignored the dull ache and got to dealing with his hand so he could leave faster and sleep through the impending migraine. Once all the glass had been picked out of Sebastian’s cuts and he’d been disinfected, bandaged, and fed a Wiggenweld potion for extra measure, he made his way back to the dorms. 

He dimly realized on the trek down that it wasn’t how long he had been together with you that was preventing him from getting over you. 

—

“You’ll be back on your feet in no time,” Leander said from two tables away, raising his Butterbeer towards Sebastian and Ominis. The two were tucked away in the far corner of The Three Broomsticks at Ominis’ insistence, in some feeble attempt to get Sebastian out of the permanent rut he had found himself in for five consecutive days now. The brooding Slytherin just picked at his bandages, gritting his teeth together and silently hoping that the dirty bar floor would open up and swallow him whole. 

There were too many students around for comfort, and a number of them glanced cautiously between Leander the Sebastian, checking to make sure that the Gryffindor wasn’t at risk of having his nose broken. He meant well– especially after 6 Butterbeers– but Prewett was famously not good with words, and Sebastian didn’t trust himself to speak anymore. 

Leander motioned to Sirona for another drink, and once she’d deposited it on the table with an amused shake of her head, he walked the pint over to the dreary corner. “On me. You don’t need her, mate. Chin up.” 

With a rough clap on Sebastian’s shoulder, he left just as suddenly as he’d appeared. Ominis listened warily for any signs of anger or sadness, but all he heard was the sound of liquid sloshing as Sebastian lifted the drink to his lips and chugged down two thirds of it. 

As he set the tankard down on the table, Sebastian looked up at the cobweb covered beams overhead, acknowledging that no, he didn’t need you. 

But that wasn’t what was keeping him so low, either. 

—

After a week without so much as a glimpse of you, Sebastian took to wandering. He was restless– constantly fidgeting– like he had a fire burning under his ass all hours of the day. His chest was perpetually heavy, as though there were a Graphorn sitting on him, and his hair was in a constant state of disarray from running his hands through it. 

Sebastian was a mess. He knew he was. 

Shit, there really weren’t any other excuses for standing in a fucking fountain in the middle of the night, staring daggers at a stone dragon because there was no one else around to focus his frustrations on. There were probably better places to be shifting through his jumbled thoughts than in the middle of the Transfiguration Courtyard, but at this point, he felt bad keeping Ominis awake all night with his inability to sit still and sleep. 

Either way, Sebastian halted his wading through the water to glare firmly at the statue again, doing his best to imagine a future without you in it. 

Thus far, you had been Sebastian’s first and only love– aside from dueling. You knew him inside and out. You could look at him from across a room and know instantly how close he was to punching someone, how tired he was, or whether or not he was actually listening to a conversation. You had a million different smiles for a million of Sebastian’s petty annoyances, and all of them struck hard and true and left him feeling at peace with the state of his life. 

He knew you just as well– it wasn’t like you were some all powerful Legilimen living in his head. You had your flaws, your insecurities, your anxieties. You made mistakes, and you had inhuman levels of empathy and understanding– which was probably how you had managed to deal with him after your tumultuous fifth-year. 

There was something viscerally calming about you, something that never failed to keep him in line when he was acting like a piece of shit, and that kept him steady when he was feeling anxious. It had been too much, though, and Sebastian knew you took on the burdens of others far too heavily without stopping to think of yourself. It weighed on you. 

You weren’t perfect, but neither was he. 

Leaning against the dragon, Sebastian closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the water in the fountain lapping at his calves and trickling soothingly in a short arc from the dragon’s parted lips. 

Maybe Sebastian just couldn’t comprehend people as well as he thought he could. That was probably it. 

You were the brains, and he was the brawns. You were philosophical, seemingly making sense of everything that crossed your path, while Sebastian understood too little despite trying. Between the two of you, you managed to make just enough sense of the world to be comfortable. But now everything was over. 

Sebastian kicked at the water idly, dodging under the dragon’s stream to make another lap around the fountain. 

He liked dueling. He appreciated how simple it was– it was do or die, realistically speaking. Cast or get casted on. Win or lose. Whoever he would go up against would inevitably let their mask slip, cluing him in on their thinking, their pain, their weaknesses. It was logical for him, and most of the time, he found his opponents predictable. 

Sebastian never could have predicted that he would walk out on you, though, and he definitely wouldn’t have ever predicted that you would let him. 

It took him a few minutes to realize that he was standing under the dragon’s stream, and it was soaking through his hair and into his shirt. He sighed, slicking his bangs away from his face before letting the cold water rain down on his flushed face for a moment, and then he was stepping out of its way. 

There had to be a reason Sebastian was having so much trouble with this. 

Leander had been unwittingly correct; Sebastian definitely didn’t need you, as in, it wasn’t like he couldn’t breathe without you. He was his own person with his own strengths, and you were the same. It wasn’t even that he had put ‘too much time into it’, as Garreth had implied, because loving you had never felt time consuming. He couldn’t even begin to move on from this, and it was pissing him off, because he was really fucking tired of crying and of staring at walls, unfocused and feeling hollow. 

Sebastian was especially tired of his hands turning over all the time to find yours, because he knew you weren’t there anymore. Still, he couldn’t stop his fingers from spreading to make room between them for yours, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning every room for you. He would never be able to stop his body from shifting to accommodate someone who would never occupy that space again. 

Sebastian fixed his stormy gaze on the dragon again, deep in thought about you. You, who always understood a little more than you probably should have, and who always knew how to read him like a damn book. You would lay beside him every night tangled together, tapping in time to the steady beat of his heart under your ear, quieting the restless drive that seemed to always exist within him.

He could move on from you. He could focus on his studies, the two of you would graduate, and eventually you would both find someone else. But ultimately, Sebastian seriously doubted he would ever feel the bone-deep comfort that stemmed from you again. It seemed highly unlikely that he would ever meet someone that made him feel the way you did. It was like… no matter how long the two of you sat and watched clouds, or meandered through the woods, it was never time wasted. It had always been okay to just exist for a while without doing something, or making something, or going somewhere. When he was with you, it had always felt okay for him to put his problems on the table and walk away from them for a while, instead of obsessively stabbing them and getting more and more frustrated. 

No matter where he went or how successful Sebastian could potentially be, he had a sneaking suspicion that his fingers would always spread just far enough for yours to slide between them. 

The sound of sloshing water filled the courtyard, and then Sebastian’s soaked shoes were slapping against the grass with each pounding step that led him full speed towards the Room of Requirement. The only thought in his mind as he skipped up the steps two at a time was that the peace that came over the both of you when you were together had to be worth fucking trying again. 

There was something to be said about how the normally concealed oak doors were already displayed, as though beckoning him to where he knew you had been hiding for days now. He eased his way inside without a second thought, noting the messy state of the desk in the corner and the stacks of books that had toppled over on themselves beside the entryway. The entire space looked lived in, and your unique scent hit him full force as he strode further into the room. 

When Sebastian reached the bottom of the tiny stairwell leading towards the larger living area, you were looking up from your seat in front of the fireplace that lit the otherwise dark chamber. The look on your sleepless face and the way your unruly hair curled wildly around your temples clued him in on the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had been feeling like utter shit this last week. Your lips parted around a silent gasp as Sebastian stumbled towards you, still panting from having sprinted to get there. 

“Hi,” he wheezed, leaning forward on his knees and forcing a deep breath into his lungs in a bid to prevent himself from passing out. 

“Sebastian?” Your voice was small and raspy– as though it hadn’t been used the entire time you’d been holed up here. “Why are you so wet–” 

“I love you,” he interrupted, his labored breathing filling the silence that followed the declaration. “I love you and I’m so fucking sorry that I’m such a prick and that I hurt you. I fucked up and I can’t take back anything that was said but I wanted you to know how sorry I am, and that I don’t want to be done, and if you aren’t tired of me yet I have a really stupid dueling metaphor for why we should stay together– mmph–” 

You had crossed the space between you both in a flash, reaching out preemptively until your trembling hands clasped Sebastian’s soaked tie to yank him towards you. 

“I missed you,” you whispered as you leaned your forehead against his, your breath warming his chilled lips– just a hair’s width away from kissing– but your hesitation burned like fire between the two of you. “Merlin, Sebastian, I’m so sorry–”

Sebastian reached up to tangle his fingers in your hair, and his damp skin caught on the tiny knots that were scattered throughout the normally tame strands. His sighs mixed with yours, the two of you murmuring tense little ‘I love you’s and ‘I missed you’s until the sounds mingled and settled in time. 

Looping an arm around your waist to guide you towards the modest bedroom the room had conjured up years ago, Sebastian maintained the tentative space between your lips, whispering your name as he led you through the hallway. Your fingers were already working open the buttons on his soaked shirt, trusting him completely to walk you safely backwards to your once shared bedroom. Sebastian slowed, taking his hands off of you only once to shrug out of his button up, dropping it haphazardly behind him. Your strikingly warm hands blazed over his shoulders, then down his chill-ridden arms, before he was bending over to rid himself of his waterlogged shoes and socks. Sebastian stood straight right after, resting his hands on your waist while your shaky hands slipped down to work at the wet catch of his trousers. 

The bedroom door was shut, so your heads banged together when Sebastian accidentally walked you into it. He blurted a string of curses, leaning down to press his lips gently against your forehead apologetically. Blindly, he reached behind you in search of the doorknob– which was quite frankly the only unfamiliar part of the entire room– because the door had never been closed before. 

Sebastian realized belatedly that oh, the door had never been closed before, and the couch you’d been perched on when he walked in had been covered in a nest of thick quilts and extra pillows. 

Oh. 

He trailed his lips slowly across your brow, then down the curve of your nose, before kissing the corners of your mouth so tenderly that the affection left you wanting to cry. Pressing one more kiss to the tip of your nose, he whispered, “You slept on the couch?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, and your fingers stilled in their efforts to remove the damp material from Sebastian’s clammy skin. Shivering slightly, you could only look up at him through your lashes, understanding that he wasn’t asking so much as he was stating. Of course he knew you had slept on the couch. 

Silence crept through the dark hallway, broken only by your meek sniffles, before you were nodding against Sebastian’s chest. He lowered his head in an instant, pressing his lips to your cheeks, but the sudden taste of salt and the slip of water had him pulling away to look at you. You were quick to wipe away the fresh tears dripping down your face, your breath hitching on barely-caught sobs and your bloodshot eyes squeezing shut against them. 

Sebastian captured your hands in his and twined your fingers together, nuzzling away your tears without a care for his own, and he hovered cautiously for a beat before finally closing the space between your lips to kiss you. 

It lasted for a moment, then a minute, then a lifetime as Sebastian leaned in closer and breathed love into you, receiving in equal parts the taste of his tenderness returned. He freed one hand to gently cup your face, his thumb wiping through the wet trails that still lingered, and your arm around his waist tightened immeasurably further, tugging him flush to you. 

You whispered against his soft lips then, your voice cracking, “What brought you back?” 

Sebastian pulled back enough to look at you– really look at you– and take in every bit of your face like he would never get the chance to again. It wasn’t like he didn’t already have every expression of yours memorized, but in the last seven days without seeing that warm light in your eyes, the world had seemed a whole lot darker. He sighed, swallowing thickly as he wondered how to begin phrasing every bottomless thought that he’d had since he realized why he hadn’t been getting over you. 

He didn’t need you to function. His relationship with you wasn’t an investment or something that could be measured with time, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t imagine a future without you. It was just that he didn’t want to. 

Sebastian didn’t want to live without you beside him. He didn’t want to grow old without you, and he didn’t want anything but to be surrounded by your warmth every day for the rest of his life. 

He leaned forward and kissed you again, just as gently as the last dozen times, and you reached up to cradle the hand he still had cupped against your cheek. Breathing a long sigh, Sebastian stared at you longingly as he murmured, “Wherever you are is where I want to be. It’s home. I wouldn’t be stranded without you, but the place I like best is wherever I can be next to you.” You trembled against him, both of you biting back resurfacing tears and failing miserably. “If it’s okay, can I come home?” 

A tiny whimper slipped from your throat as you nodded, wiggling your arms up to throw them around Sebastian’s shoulders, and then you were sniffling feebly into the crook of his neck. Sebastian wrapped his arms around your wait, holding you tightly as he fumbled for the doorknob, and by the time the two of you had crossed the short space to the bed, you were somewhere between laughing and crying. 

Your hands moved back to Sebastian’s glued on trousers, leaning up into his kisses eagerly as you swiftly got to removing the painfully cold attire. With a little assistance from the brunet, the two of you managed the pants– by the grace of Merlin and more than a little shimmying. Sebastian’s briefs and the oversized jumper you wore vanished significantly quicker than the rest, and he quickly eased you down onto the soft, familiar sheets. 

Sebastian rolled over beside you, lifting his hips to haul the covers over you both before he pressed his still-chilled body into your welcoming embrace, and he relished in the shiver that coursed over you from the contact. 

When your lips came together the next time, neither one of you pulled away, leaving your tears outside of the safe, blanketed world you’d created for yourselves. The whispered love that twined like smoke alongside the quiet sounds of your hands relearning each other’s skin filled the air for hours. Gasping breaths and soft moans of your name were all you could hear, Sebastian’s gentle affirmations of reverence making your heart swell with unbridled affection. 

You stayed like that all night, wholly content for the first time in a good, long while. When the sun finally began to cast its waking rays through the paneled window, bathing you both in a golden glow that illuminated the drying sweat on your skin, Sebastian’s soft murmurs and twin heartbeat lulled you into a blissful sleep.

Just before unconsciousness stole you away, you threaded your fingers through his own, letting your intertwined hands rest atop his chest in the same way Sebastian had so dearly missed. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, closing his eyes against the growing morning light, and he felt lighter than he ever had as you thoughtfully whispered, “Welcome home.” 

[edgeray]

Arlecchino is a cold person.

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

It's no suprise to anyone. It is simply an objective fact of the matter. She is aware of this. The House of the Hearth is aware of this. The Fatui are aware of this. It's ironic given the nature of her vision, but it nonetheless rings true despite the fire she possesses on her blackened fingertips. She is callous and curt, and underneath her skin there is nothing except frigid ice that envelopes her being like a fitted coat. She speaks with no warmth, acts with the absence of heat, exists in a constant state of cold emptiness--a state in which there is a void inside of her, as if sucking all that is human of her.

Years ago, when she was just a child of the same orphanage she headed, she had naive thoughts of finding companionship, someone who would provide the warmth she sought on lonesome nights. She was barely just an adolescent who dreamed of lying in someone's arms, feel the heartbeat of another so surely, it would remind her that she was indeed alive. For even the briefest of moments, she yearned for someone who would, if not shield, then distract her from the cruelties of this world. She had shed those foolish wishes aside. In the House of the Heart that she was raised in, such notions were admonished, in fact, the wishful thinking was one of the reasons she had nearly lost her life. Never again, she had promised to herself, when she mercilessly beat the backstabber. It was then that she believed when the time came, her tale would end the same way as it began for her: alone. As the years of being a Fatui, then becoming a Fatui Harbinger, hardened her, there was comfort in that view.

That is what she believed in. Until you came.

Iciness wraps her being. It is present in her expression, in her words, in her touch. But that is exactly why she finds solace in your being. Her vision could only grant her a synthetic flame, but, you, you're an everlasting hearth. She melts in your embrace every time she slots herself in your arms, as it feels like a kindling ignited in her heart. It is only with you, that she learns how warmth can be found in.

Arlecchino is a cold person.

It is why you, as a warm one, is perfect for her. You whisk away the most depraved thoughts, ease her of any emotional and mental turmoil, and you do not treat her with the same coldness as the world seems so fond of doing to her. You are her flame, the one that sparks her being and reminds her that she is alive because her heart beats with you, beats for you.

Except you are cold now. It is unfathomable to her how you can be this way when your entire being exists to warm her, but when she touches your skin, you are unbearably frozen. Your body does not tremble like it does when her clawed fingers ever so gently trace your skin. The corner of your lips doesn't quirk up into the usual small smile of yours when she appears in your sight, but they remain ever rigid like the rest of you. Uncharacteristically, your expression doesn't soften with her presence.

You are cold, just like her. And that makes her afraid. Her hand searches for it, prodding your skin for a familiar thumping that is nowhere to be found. You continue to stare at her, unblinking. Here would be the moment where you give her a beaming smirk and you'd cup her face tenderly as if she was glass. And she would let you, because you are her beloved, who has watched her shatter so many times before and wordlessly each shard back together, and it is for that reason that she would lean closer towards your touch.

Because you lie broken in her arms and her hands are stained again with the familiar color of red. Your eyes are glossy and gaze unblinkingly at her. Frozen. Even when you are covered in your blood, you are beautiful, she notes, but oh, so cold that it makes her doubt if you were warm to begin with.

She misses your warmth. Where has it gone? Or has it died along with you?

Her hearth is gone. And as she clings onto your form, her body wracking with a fear and desperation she's never known before, two revelations come to her: that there is no such thing as an everlasting fire, and even after so many years ago, she was right along.

Arlecchino is a cold person. And she will remain always cold.

[itsgrimeytime]

Maneater (Part One) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Dialogue Prompts: "Don’t play friendly with me." + "Try me."

Summary: You and Rick Grimes had a backstory, one no one knew except you and him. It's one you refused to share, you never really wanted to get into it. All anyone needed to know was you hated the man. When you're in a rough spot, and you could use the shelter the question is... does he hate you?

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, a touch of abandonment, grudges, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: y'all ever heard of TENSION?? Or enemies to lovers??? Because I'll tell you what, I have :))) Lowkey, you have a good reason to hate Rick, but like... you'll see. also I am living in delusion for what Rick looked like in the Alexandria timeline, so just know I picture the gif, okay? Thx <3 ]]

Before you go thinking this is another long series, this is just a two/maybe three-parter. There was more to this idea than what I felt I could naturally convey in one one-shot. So, let me know if you want to be tagged for the continuation.

"Shit."

This really, truly, was never supposed to happen. This was the worst-case scenario, the kind of thing that plagued your dreams with things that were so not probable they shouldn't be scary. And yet here you were, in nightmare territory.

"Y/N? Really, is that- is that you?" the familiar face spoke -Glenn, you realized now.

God, it had been so long, you'd thought for sure at least half of that group had vanished.

Well, maybe they had. You weren't exactly sure, but Glenn hadn't really looked worse for wear. He suited the lifestyle well, actually, which you were a little impressed by -the pizza delivery guy had come a long way.

"We thought you..." he faltered off, still a bit in disbelief.

"Died? Nope," you finished, bitter, sure, but you'd never really had the chance to get over it, "-despite your wonderful leader's best efforts, I remain unscathed."

Glenn frowned.

The joy from moments before dissipated in the now fairly tense air between the two of you -others you recognized weren't there, but you imagined they were wherever he came from. Which you were currently trying to keep in the very back of your mind -you'd never follow him to them, you just couldn't.

"I should've..." he began, words seeming to come to a stop, "-Any of us should've stuck up for you. It wasn't right."

There was a bit of pleasure hearing that, somewhere deep in your chest, you appreciated it. But while the idea was good, it was very much too late. The resentment that had developed in your chest, had only solidified there -unbreakable and set in stone. You hadn't trusted a soul since, not fully anyway.

This world was filled with broken hearts, and yours was one of them.

And that was something Rick and his group had to live with, whoever they were now because that... was their fault.

You hadn't meant to hate Rick Grimes specifically, above everyone else, but the words came out of his mouth.

'Get out of here, we can't... we can't have a group this divided.'

You could still see him now in your head, clean-shaven and dressed in his uniform, taking the world by storm despite not knowing what the fuck he was doing. You were different then, scared but ready to do what you needed -hell, the first time you'd ever even held a gun was against a walker. It was with that group, they'd taught you.

You swallowed down the bile in your throat, and pushed through the rubble -your feet ached from being on the move for so long. You couldn't remember the last time you slept, or even sat down.

You couldn't not in this world, it was all about motion, about survival, about getting through the next few hours at a time.

"Look, I know you're upset, and you have every right to be," Glenn began -following you close behind, "-but we have a place... It's safe, you could sleep. You could eat. There are houses, hot water-"

You froze in place, the idea spreading a sort of warmth in your chest, something you'd forgotten somewhere along the path. Hope. Yet, there was still a sting there -deep under your skin, "Glenn-"

"It doesn't have to be forever," he added, and now that you looked at him, he did seem clean -his clothes washed and the desperation that dusted your skin was so distant you could hardly see it, "-just for a few days."

Feet frozen to the spot, you exhaled -the breath shaking you to the root, it had been so long, but how could you trust him? How could you trust any of them?

You remembered Glenn had looked hesitant, that day, his own suspicion drawn in his eyebrows but it hadn't gone farther than that. He hadn't said a word. No one had. But now, he was here offering solace, safety. And you knew it wasn't just out of pity.

The world had enough of that on its own. You had enough of that on your own, your story spilling to listening ears -they'd all been the same. Still, you could use a break.

And as much as you didn't trust the group, whatever it had become, you knew that if anyone had survived this long -they'd been skilled. Skilled enough for you to breathe, for you to close your eyes and sleep.

You sighed, wiping the sleep from your eyes, or rather the lack of, "Just a few days?"

"As long as you need," Glenn reiterated, somehow conveying that you never had to leave, it was a small thing. But comforting.

"I get to decide when to leave?"

Glenn frowned, his own body almost shrinking in on itself, disappointment. You'd never thought you'd see this, someone from so long ago -the regret, the remorse, "Yeah, of course."

And you were thinking about it. As your joints ached and your throat burned for water, the breeze felt cold against your bones, and you truly couldn't imagine it getting any warmer. The sun setting only meant it could get colder, and you were currently without a roof.

"Okay," you quietly agreed, despite the churning in your stomach saying otherwise.

That was when one of the others, neither of which you knew, spoke, "But, didn't Rick say-"

"Shut it," Glenn exhaled, tone icy and you suddenly realized maybe they were new to him too.

The walk was long, not grueling since Glenn had known exactly where he was going -he'd always had that sense of direction though. You remembered the early days when he'd been the one to volunteer to go back to the city, he'd known so much. Maybe he was just made that way? Or it was some sort of thing they'd invented. It had been a long time.

"There's a few of us that'll be happy to see you," Glenn spoke, casually walking beside you as the other two paired off behind you.

You swallowed the tensing of your shoulders, the last time you'd been in a group it hadn't ended well, and every time before that too actually. You didn't meld well with groups, let's just say that.

"I don't think so," you hummed, remembering so far back in your brain that day -the eyes all set on you, strong and decisive. You couldn't imagine who else survived other than Rick Grimes himself. Because this world wasn't what you expected, you shouldn't have survived more that a week... but here you were.

Glenn didn't say anything else, you assumed he noticed your more pressed tone -as the opposite of an invitation to keep talking. It stung a bit, watching the man's face solemn considerably, but there was also a sick part of your brain that had been waiting for this day.

As you approached the new community, Glenn spread out his hands -with a voice close to an announcer, "Welcome to Alexandria!"

Alexandria was big, bigger than you thought really. When you pictured the homes, there was bordered up windows and broken glass -blood stained into the wood. But these?

They were almost pristine.

Your head spun as you made your way through the gate, Glenn casually guiding you through the space without much forethought. It seemed he'd known this daze, he'd experienced it himself, maybe?

You knew how this world was, Alexandria seemed to be a new wave of something fresh.

Actually, you'd seen signs once or twice but never pursued it. Things like that didn't quite work in this world, you were scared of what it may truly have been. But Glenn had brought you hear with the promise of a bed to sleep in, so you assumed whatever kinks were there had already been worked out.

Or maybe you hoped they would.

In your haze, you hadn't noticed the two other members bump ahead -headed straight for a particular place, you assumed. Nor did you really notice Glenn kind of easily navigating in front of you.

Until, you heard the voice you'd vowed to never hear until the day you died.

"Glenn?" the drawl was deeper now, older and a touch more dangerous, "-The others told me you brought someone back, I thought we talked about-"

"Rick," Glenn interrupted, voice steady and calm -he had been prepared for this, "-it's Y/N."

There was silence there, as you trailed your fingers along the trim of the house ever-so-gently -the dirt stained into your fingertips didn't need to smudge there. It would've ruined it.

"What?" His voice was low, and despite how much you wished you could understand the tone, you couldn't -you didn't know him.

He could be angry, in disbelief, in shock. You had no clue, instead focusing on the ivy running up the sides of some of the houses -rubbing the leaves with your thumb, muttering, "Wow."

"Y/N?"

You blinked out of your haze, stilling at the direct contact with you -it felt odd, hearing your name out of his mouth. So familiar yet, so so far off. Yet, the sting still burned deep under your skin -it would probably never go away.

Without turning around, you acknowledged him simply -direct and without much other force, "Rick."

Then the space grew even quieter, the tension laying thick into the air -you could feel it set the prickling of goosebumps on your skin.

With a heavy breath, you turned around -equipped to set your eyes on his skin.

He looked... different. His hair was much longer, curled at the nape of his neck, and he had a beard -now littered with grey. It suited him, he'd been too uptight back then, now though, he'd seemed more adjusted.

"Y/N, I-" he began, and you could hear it -the pity, the 'I'm sorry'. You couldn't take it, not from him. Not now.

It was too late, it made you want to rip your hair out. And thrash and cry and scream. Scream for all you'd lost, scream for the fear you felt that day, pushed into the woods -separated.

You spoke, pushing back the bite in your tone as much as you could, "Don't play friendly with me. I'm here for a few days, at most."

Rick's mouth snapped shut, jaw setting. He seemed frustrated, but that was hardly your problem, the whole thing was his really. He could die with that regret, aching to give an apology for his wrongdoings... and you would let him.

The area, which you now realized was slowly filtering people in, eyes all beginning to focus on you and Rick. Questioning, mostly, but you figured any pushback on Rick and you'd end up dead. So, you pushed back -the strength of your tone settling and the brush of the cold warming.

You didn't need to make enemies.

And then you heard it, a familiar voice, older than you'd expected, you'd known that voice younger... what was-

"Y/N?"

Your breath stuttered, as you spun on your feet and there he was, taller and older, "Carl? Oh my god-"

You hadn't even thought about it, that where Rick was Carl would follow. You had less than high hopes that he'd even survive this far, and yet, here he was right in front of you.

You'd known Carl early on in the group, he had been so young. Lori needed help sometimes, and she'd grown close to you, so, pretty quickly, she'd trusted you with him. In the early days, he was stuck to your side -playing games with the sticks and rocks you could find nearby, giving him comfort when his Mom seemed too far to touch -she was often like that. Her eyes were far, and her mind farther.

Without much less of an introduction, he ran to you with ease, despite the filth you must've been covered in. Especially compared to him, who seemed to be as perfectly clean as the rest of them. He ran into you, arms wrapping tight around your figure -and god, he was so much taller. You bit back a sob, how much had you missed?

"I thought you were dead," he spoke, muttering into your shoulder and his hands gripping desperately at your shirt.

You remembered the tiny version of him kicking and screaming, 'Why do they have to leave, Dad?!' He had been crying so hard his body was shaking, they practically had to tear him off you. You'd told them you'd leave in the night when he was sleeping, so it wouldn't be so hard on him. He couldn't put up as much of a fight if he wasn't there.

"You've gotten so tall," you laughed, pulling back and wiping at your eyes -gesturing to his stature.

Carl laughed too, wiping away his own tears.

You forgot for a second where you were, and how long it had been. Only reuniting with someone you cared tremendously about. The moment was bittersweet with the eyes of many sliding across your figure, the scar detailed across your arm, or maybe the bandage wrapped around your head. You'd had some run-ins, but you'd taken care of them with what you could.

The next few days were a bit stuffy, the doctor (who you didn't bother to learn the name of) had been keeping a close eye on you -consistently telling you to rest and sticking the one and only sheriff on you when you resisted.

Apparently, she thought that it was the best idea.

The single thread that didn't have you running out of this place wore a sheriff's hat and seemed to relish in your arrival. Carl had been by your side frequently, introducing you to practically everyone (including Glenn's wife, Maggie, what-) -which you had originally been strictly against, but the kid was your soft spot.

You'd felt more at ease after a run-in with two familiar faces, Daryl and Carol. They both did similarly to Carl, and you couldn't seem to fault them too much. Not at that moment anyway. It was midday and Carl had run off with some people his own age, which you refused to separate him from that. It was important, he needed it.

And you needed something too.

The space felt cramped, with someone constantly looking over your shoulder and someone else always in your area. It was a far cry from your previous loner life where your days fell to silence and the slice of whatever your blade was echoed through it. Before Glenn, you hadn't spoken out loud in months.

So, with new energy from the hot water and regular meals, you'd found yourself roaming the streets towards the fence. Just for a sense of normalcy, you needed to taste the adrenaline, feel the blade in your hands, and the urgency in your movements. Dancing with death.

Trying to watch your back, you kept your eyes behind you -ducking behind some of the unused houses that you'd scouted out earlier in the day. It wasn't like you were leaving forever, just a few hours that's all you needed.

"And where are you going?"

You jumped, turning to the sound in front of you, and because god simply hated you it happened to belong to one Rick Grimes. His eyes leveled with you, standing confidently in your way like he'd expected you. And shit, maybe he had.

Stammering, you regained your composure, "Where's Carl?"

"Asleep," he responded with ease.

"Look, I'm not-" you groaned, "-Why are you keeping me here like a prisoner?"

"Doctor told me to keep an eye on ya," he answered, once again too prepared, it infuriated you to no bounds, "-you don't think I'd notice you scopin' out an exit?"

"That's not-" you straightened your posture, pressing your lips into a thin line, "I don't have to explain myself to you. So, kindly, if you would get out of my way, I'll be back in an hour."

Rick chuckled, not in a really joyful way either, neither of you was quite joking, "Yeah, not happenin'."

"Rick," you echoed, tone ice and hand tightening on where your blade rested on your hip -a handmade hilt someone had made you a long time ago, "-move, or I'll make you."

He paused, licking a line across his teeth, and slowly making his way into your space. Your breath caught in your throat, but you stayed strong in your place -eyes set on his and shoulders set in place. He didn't speak until his face was right in yours, a breath away, and his expression remained unchanged -his eyes only betraying the heaviness of his words, "Try me."

Rick didn't reach for his gun, which sat with was at his hip -inches from his hands. You knew he wouldn't pull it on you, it wasn't in his character, but there was a chill in his tone -something new.

What happened to him?

You washed out the worry that settled under your skin for a second, that didn't need to be there. He'd abandoned you -they all had.

Setting your jaw, you exhaled -pulling back and letting your hand fall to your side, "Look, I just need an hour."

Rick stared at you, you couldn't read him -years of age, and most likely tragedy by the missing faces, gracing features you once knew. And even then, he was new -you hadn't known him.

"This place is-" you faltered off, looking back to the houses, where most lights were switched off in the dark -except for just a few spare ones, "-suffocating. I've been on my own for so long, I feel like I'm having an out-of-body fucking experience here. This isn't... I need something familiar."

He still hadn't said a word.

"So," you began, strong, before deflating, "-just let me kill some of the dead, yeah?"

Rick pursed his lips, before sighing deep and heavily, "Okay."

You opened your mouth to rebuttal, before the words set in, "Okay?"

"Just let me tell Michonne and Daryl I won't be around for a bit," he continued, seeming to waltz on past you, and then those words hit you.

"Rick, I don't need a babysitter," you answered, that lick of bitterness slinking through your skin again -your mouth opened before you could stop it, "-you weren't worried years ago, were you? Why now?"

He stopped in his motion, frozen solid by your words. A part of you felt vindicated, he deserved it -it may have been years for him, but that was the way your way in this world had started.

You hadn't expected him to speak, but he did.

"You can't do that."

A flash of frustration hummed under your skin -burning hot and bright -who was he to say anything to you, "I can't do that? Do what? Talk about what you did to me? The day you kicked me to the curb at the beginning of the fucking apocalypse...?"

"I've been tryin' to apologize since you got here-" he started, tone angry in the way of hands shaking not voice raising, "-you won't let me."

Something in you snapped.

"So what?" you started, tone shaky and you'd say it was for rage but you could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, "You think I want an apology from you?"

Rick looked lost then, and something in you begged to keep going. The dam was cracked now, and the water could flood out -who better than the man who hit the nail in the coffin, "What...?"

"You, you don't get the resolution that would get you. You don't get to sleep well at night because you said sorry, no."

He didn't speak.

You laughed, the tears were free now, years of being locked behind something as thick as the shell you wore after that day -your breaths were ragged and you felt like maybe your heart would be out of your chest, "I never wanted to live through this."

"Y/N-"

And there was something there in those words, heavy and gravelly against the cool night air. But you couldn't dwell on it. You had too much to say to him, to all of them really, but just him would do.

"No," you exhaled, taking a deep shaky breath in, "-Rick, I just need to know one thing."

He opened his mouth, assumedly to answer your question, but you still couldn't let him speak. Your brain was going so fast, you had to keep up.

"Did you ever ask them why?"

Rick spoke then, slowly, "Who?"

"Shane," you spoke, the air seemed to get heavier, "-and Lori. Did it never seem odd to you that it came out at the same time? That they'd both seen me that exact same day?"

Rick stilled, and his jaw seemed to set.

That was what had gotten you kicked out, Shane and Lori had alleged you'd taken more supplies for yourself -stolen from everyone. You weren't sure of the specifics, whether it be an extra graham cracker or a tissue to wipe your busted lip, as you didn't let them get too far into it. They'd been egging him on, Shane on some sort of masculine level and Lori using their love as a pawn -you'd seen it clear as day. Rick hadn't.

"I was going to tell you," you spoke quietly, barely a brush over the wind of the chillier nights.

He didn't have to ask what. He knew you assumed he had known pretty much immediately after you noticed their absences. Something had happened, maybe not long after you'd left. You could only assume so much.

"I didn't know," he echoed out, his voice strained in a way you'd never heard from him -pained, regretful.

Without much else, you turned back the way you came -voice steady and strong across the space between you two, "I know."

[orangesand-lemons-234]

Buttons was 16 years old. He'd been a Newsie for ten of those years, therefore being around to see some of the younger kids grow with him.

When he saw Elmer, he still saw the three year old Spot brought to visit Manhattan four years ago.

When he saw Splasher, he saw the five year old he and Tommy Boy found sat alone on a bench outside the church three years ago.

When he saw Mike and Ike, he saw the babies left in a basket outside the Lodge House five years ago.

So, seeing each of them beaten up and bloody hurt all the more.

The Lodge was absolute chaos after the fight. Not the usual Lodge chaos, however, it was a scary and fearful chaos. The one that made your heart pound and brain blurry.

Kids were wailing and crying, teenagers were yelling and shouting. There wasn't a quiet place in the house.

Everybody realised quite quickly that nobody had walked out without a few battle scars to show afterwards, and the little kids were no exception.

Elmer had a shard of glass thrown at his forehead, and it was bleeding badly. Despite the bandages now wrapped around the injury, the injury had bled through, creating crimson dots splattered around it.

Splasher had broken his ankle after being shoved to the ground by one of the bulls. Buttons had a pole tied to his leg to keep it as straight as possible and had it elevated on the other bed. He was still weeping silently with the pain shooting up his leg every few minutes.

Mike and Ike were sat on his lap and were crying harder than any of the Newsies had ever seen, despite knowing them their whole lives.

Mike had been struck in the back with a baton multiple times, his back now scattered with bruises and blood. He didn't understand what was happening or why he was in so much pain, he just wanted it to stop.

Ike was hit in the face with one of the Delancey's brass knuckles, leaving him with a black eye and scarred nose. He was practically inconsolable, not allowing anybody to touch him for a very long time after the fight, only relaxing enough for Button's to check him out when Mike was brought in with Albert and Finch.

Buttons, with no help from the others got to work helping the kids in any way he could. The kids needed a shoulder to cry on and a helping hand to wrap up their injuries while some of the older newsies tried to sort out where Jack was and if they could try to save Crutchie.

They didn't understand what any of this meant. They just wanted somebody to hold them and tell them they were okay. Someone to sing one of Meddas songs while they wrapped up their scars and cuts.

Buttons was okay. He was fine and could help with the little ones with their injuries. Yeah, sure, he was struggling to breathe properly, and his knees were throbbing with pain, but the little kids needed help more than he did. He could handle it.

Buttons was 16, but sometimes he wishes he was still 6, when there was always an older kid around to help him out.

[supernovafics]

being with steve but he’s still pining for nancy

wc: 1k words

(was very inspired by "opposite" by sabrina carpenter and "full machine" by gracie abrams for this one</3)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was all a lie, but you were okay with that. 

having him, even if it wasn’t really real, was better than not having him at all, you thought. 

it was painfully obvious that you deserved better. better than late night calls practically begging you to come over but not one glance in the hallway. better than being the most tightly kept secret. 

but it was hard to see how exactly wrong any of that was when you were so fucking lost in this steve harrington haze. 

this haze that made you feel okay with accepting the lie you’d been continuously telling yourself— that he wasn’t still pining for her.

anyone with two eyes could see that he was still in love with her. 

but, you were okay living with the lie that maybe, just maybe, he wanted only you instead. 

however, of course, deep down you knew the real reason that he was with you most nights instead of her was because she didn’t want him. 

“you can stay if you want.”

he always offered, but you knew he didn’t mean it, so you always said no. and you knew that you had said the right answer the first time he asked when you saw the look of relief wash over his face. 

you knew that he liked you because you didn’t stay. because that meant that you knew that this wasn’t the type of arrangement where you would fall asleep in his arms. although you would’ve killed for that kind of post-sex intimacy with him.

you weren’t looking at him as you shook your head at those familiar insincere words in this moment. “no, i’m okay. i’ve got to get to school early in the morning for this project thing.”

you finished slipping your shirt over your head and shimmying back on your jeans before getting up to leave his room. he never walked you out. at this point, you were accustomed to letting yourself out of his house, and that never really minded you. although it did feel something close to a walk of shame. 

you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror that hung above his dresser, noticing your disheveled hair and slightly wrinkled clothes. you were so different from her, and it wasn’t just your appearance right then that told you that. 

i’ll never be her.

“what?”

you turned to steve, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his one-word question. “what?”

“you said you’ll never be her. never be who?”

you hadn’t realized that you said those words aloud and you felt your face warm harshly in embarrassment. 

“i think the answer to that question is pretty obvious,” you found yourself saying instead of making up some excuse about how he must’ve misheard you. 

“i don’t want you to be nancy.” 

well, who do you want me to be? who do i need to be for you to love me as much as you love her? 

you didn’t let either of those questions fall from your lips. even though you were dying to know the answers, you knew exactly how desperate and sad they would make you sound. 

“okay,” you said instead and then headed toward his bedroom door. “bye.”

you closed it behind you just like you always did. not planning to see him again until tomorrow night, knowing that you’d probably be ignored when school rolled around.

however, moments before you opened the front door to leave, you heard steve’s footsteps pad down the stairs and you turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“did i forget something?”

he was still only in his boxers but now a t-shirt was tossed on as well as he came close to you. 

“no, it’s just, uh,” he kissed you instead of saying anything more, which startled you because he never did that outside of the context of sex. before you could even fully process the fact that his lips were on yours, feeling so foreign because of the set of circumstances this was all happening in, they were gone.

you looked up at him. “what was that for?”

he shrugged and his sudden shyness in this moment, when he was the one that just had kissed you, severely confused you. “just goodnight and get home safe.” 

your head was still so dazed, mind completely jumbled, but you found yourself nodding at his words. “thanks.”

you simply looked at him for a few moments, searching his eyes for something, although you were unsure exactly what. but, it was way too hard to read his expression, and with a small shake of your head, you turned away to finally begin heading to your car.

“wait.”

once again, your eyes traveled back to him. “yeah?”

“also, um, i like you,” he told you. “that’s why i don’t want you to be nancy, or anyone else for that matter.” 

hearing those words should’ve warmed your insides, finally made you realize that the lies you had been telling yourself actually weren’t lies at all. however, instead, they hurt you. 

you shook your head at him and swallowed the lump that now sat heavy in your throat. “no, you don’t.”

he was about to say something else, but you continued before he could.

“you just like the fact that i pretend that you do actually like me. you like that i show up here pretty much every night to help you “forget” about her.”

it felt slightly like an out-of-body experience. you saying the words that needed to finally be said, words that you didn’t even know were buried deep inside of you and how true they were, until they were finally tumbling out. 

steve winced at your words, being hit hard by the brutal honesty laced so deeply in them. 

“i’m sorry.” 

this thing you two had was broken now, and you knew it couldn’t be fixed. the unspoken truths were finally out and couldn’t be stuffed back into the box they came out of.

and maybe, at least for your sake, that was a good thing.

[jahayla-parker]

Foolish One : Kaz Brekker x Reader

Description: 4.7k wc, angst set to the tale of Foolish One by Taylor Swift. Reader has feelings for Kaz and her wishful thinking results in her suffering from a heartbreaking realization when Inej returns.

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, sadness, crying, unrequited? feelings, SoC standard triggers/topics, no happy ending

Y/n stifled her hopeful smile as she knocked on Kaz’s door. Upon hearing his gruff voice express she could enter, y/n took an anxious breath as she turned the doorknob leading to his office. “Morning, Kaz,” y/n greeted sweetly, stepping into his workspace.

Kaz looked up from his desk. While it wasn’t a smile, the edges of his lips did curl up faintly in response to y/n’s greeting. He knew of her feelings towards him. Normally that would mean pushing her away, but since Inej had left them, he’d been trying to be better at these things. As such, Kaz had been working on being warmer and less harsh towards y/n. He figured if he could, maybe he had a chance of one day being in a semi-normal relationship.

Y/n gracefully crossed the room and sat in the chair across the desk from Kaz. She was always careful to respect his boundaries. As such, y/n kept her hands in her lap instead of fiddling with the new set of pens on his desk.

Kaz picked up on y/n’s gaze and a smirk took over his face. “You can play with them if you’d like,” he offered civilly. “There’s no need to drool over pens,” Kaz joked in a monotonous tone.

Y/n felt her cheeks warm rapidly in embarrassment. She gave Kaz a small grateful smile before she reached across the space between them to grab one of the pens. As y/n spun one of the new pens in between her fingers -her eyes scanning the shiny device-, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was a sign from Kaz.

Y/n had developed a crush on her boss -and friend- Kaz Brekker about a year ago. She never acted on it, assuming it was one-sided and fruitless. But, over the last few months, things seemed to change. Kaz was friendlier, more open about things (albeit minor things, but it was still progress), sought her out to help on things she suspected he didn’t actually need her assistance with, and overall made it seem like maybe, just maybe, he was interested in her too. Y/n’s foolish heart clung onto that hope and belief from the very first sign. Now she was in too deep. After all, Kaz was only simply letting y/n play with the pens on his desk, and she was taking it as a small gesture of his affection.

Jesper had tried to keep y/n’s crushing heart more grounded, worrying her feelings towards Kaz wouldn’t end well. While he’d have to admit that he had seen the way the Bastard of the Barrel was softer towards y/n than he was to the other Crows or Dregs, Jesper didn’t want y/n to get her hopes up. He knew Kaz wasn’t capable of being clear about his feelings and didn’t want y/n to get caught up in all of that. He’d seen it happen to himself and Inej already.

Jesper knew y/n was an incredible person, and it wasn’t that he didn’t think she was worthy of Kaz’s attention or romantic interest. Instead, he didn’t think Kaz was worthy of y/n’s affection. Wylan had kept Jesper from interfering with whatever was transpiring between Kaz and y/n as of late. But, that didn’t mean that Jesper didn’t see it and worry about what was going on.

As great as y/n was, Jesper knew she wasn’t the exception. He knew Kaz would never be able to offer y/n what she was looking for, what he and the other Crows knew she deserved. Nevertheless, he saw y/n’s hope lift anytime Kaz showed her any attention or consideration. Jesper tried to warn y/n not to stitch her happiness to someone like Kaz, much less to Kaz’s cold and distant heart; but she didn’t want to hear it.

In fact, even when there were warning signs that something wasn’t right, y/n’s wishful thinking took over and brushed those fears away. For example, in the last few days, she’d been getting less and less from Kaz. Y/n had heard from Inej that she was returning to Ketterdam in the next few days. She knew Kaz was aware of this as well as their group had discussed it the other night over dinner. Yet, instead of connecting the dots between Kaz’s sudden shift in attention and this simultaneously learned fact, y/n ignorantly disregarded it.

Y/n didn’t often fall this hard. In fact, she had started to move past her crush on Kaz until he began treating her as if she had a chance. By now, he’d manage to give y/n just enough attention to keep her hopes too high and block out the voices of reason in her mind. She wasn’t usually known to be foolish, otherwise she’d likely have never been part of the Dregs; much less made a Crow. But, when it came to Kaz, things were different.

No amount of reasoning voices in y/n’s mind could keep her from falling harder and harder for the Bastard of the Barrel. She didn’t need Jesper’s friendly -yet protective- warnings about the situation. Y/n’s own mind had told her all of those same sentiments already. Yet, she nonetheless found herself sinking further into her wishful thinking more every night.

“You can keep that one,” Kaz offered, his rough voice cracking through the thoughts in y/n’s mind.

“Huh?” Y/n mumbled as she tried to refocus on the present moment. “Sorry, what?” She asked, looking up from the pen. Y/n’s eyes met Kaz’s for a brief second before he looked away.

“It’s nothing special,” Kaz muttered casually. “So you can have it,” he said, waving his gloved hand dismissively.

Y/n’s heart flittered with hope at the notion. Even if he claimed it wasn’t special, y/n knew Kaz only offered her the pen because of how she’d been staring at it for so long just now. The fact Kaz was freely offering her something of his, something so new and shiny no less, made y/n’s chest feel warm.

“Oh,” y/n smiled lightly. Truthfully, she didn’t care about the pen. It had merely been where her eyes had chosen to land as she daydreamed about her situation with Kaz. But, she cherished the sentiment from Kaz. “Thank you,” y/n replied, hooking her fingers around the pen tightly.

Y/n sighed to herself as she watched the sun set. She rubbed her arms aggressively with her cold hands in an attempt to stay warm despite the chilly air. Y/n should’ve known she’d be alone tonight. She had invited Kaz to join her, hoping watching the sunset would help him decompress after their failed heist earlier today.

Kaz had agreed to meet her, but didn’t say when he’d be out. As such, y/n had been sitting out here for awhile before the sun began to set. Normally she wouldn’t have waited so long for someone to show up to an agreed upon event. But, Kaz knew how to keep her waiting. In fact, he actually said he’d come tonight. So, even as y/n watched the sun disappear behind the horizon, she told herself maybe something came up that prevented Kaz from joining her like he’d said.

When y/n made it back to the Slat, she quickly learned she was correct; something had come up. Y/n rounded the corner near Kaz’s office and heard Inej’s voice. She was back earlier than expected. Normally this would’ve made y/n happy as it had been awhile since she’d last seen her friend. Only, she could see the agonizing closeness between Inej and Kaz.

It wasn’t just a metaphorical closeness either. Kaz allowed Inej to stand mere inches from him, his gloved hand resting on Inej’s clothed arm. Y/n knew the two had been close friends, or what amounted to a close friendship for someone like Kaz. But, she couldn’t help but feel jealous as she witnessed the two sharing a look as if silently communicating something with just their eyes. As metaphorically and literally close as y/n had gotten to Kaz lately, both achievements were easily outdone by the scene before her.

Y/n went to back up, hoping to quietly flee the scene. Only, her heel smacked into the corner loudly. She winced as Inej and Kaz parted instantly and looked her way. She pasted on a fake smile as Inej grinned upon seeing her.

“Y/n, oh hey!” Inej exclaimed. She stepped away from Kaz and neared her friend, a smile gracing her lips as she did. Inej watched y/n’s eyes flicker to Kaz for a split second before looking away and then back at Inej.

Y/n hugged Inej as she acted like she was fine. It wasn’t the first time she had to seem bulletproof around Kaz. But, this time it hurt more as it involved her friend as well. She didn’t feel like she even had the right to feel this way. Y/n knew she couldn’t call Kaz hers. Yet, these last few months had her thinking one day he’d come around and that maybe, someday, when they were older, the miscommunication and longing was something they would laugh about.

Y/n ignored the way she could feel Kaz’s eyes on her as she greeted Inej with faux enthusiasm. She couldn’t wouldn’t show weakness or sorrow. She didn’t have the right to. And y/n had seemingly misunderstood the connection she felt she and Kaz were forming these last few months. So, she would act as if as if she were fine.

“We need to catch up!” Inej exclaimed, squeezing y/n’s arm lovingly. She slid her hand down until she reached y/n’s palm and then interlaced their fingers. Inej looked over her shoulder as she offered Kaz a soft smile before guiding her friend from the room.

Y/n kept a false smile painted on her lips as she silently walked with Inej. She felt bad for not being super excited to see her friend. But, she couldn’t help it. Kaz had once again given y/n just enough to keep her guessing and waiting, but not enough to know where she truly stood.

Was Kaz interested in y/n? Was he interested in Inej? Saints! Was Kaz even interested in anyone at all? Y/n didn’t know. But the voices of reason in her head kept trying to warn her that something’s really not right. Nonetheless, y/n’s foolish heart allowed her wishful thinking to cloud those warnings. Kaz simply missed Inej. Besides, Kaz and Inej had been friends much longer than Kaz even knew y/n, it made sense that they’d be closer. Surely it didn’t automatically mean anything more than that.

Or at least that’s what y/n’s foolish heart allowed her to believe. Even as she laid on Inej’s bed -the one Kaz left unoccupied even as the Dregs grew in size- listening to her friend catch her up on her adventures, y/n ignored the mention of how Kaz had written Inej multiple times during her trip. Kaz didn’t write or try to communicate with y/n when she’d been gone on a few week long trip for a personal matter. Y/n assumed it was because that just wasn’t Kaz’s thing. But now, it seemed like he was perfectly capable of doing it, he just hadn’t. At least not when it came to y/n. Y/n’s mind screamed at her that Y/n clearly wasn’t the exception to Kaz’s shutdown persona. But once again, she let her foolish heart and wishful thinking mute those voices of reason. Kaz was new to this whole romance thing, that’s likely all it was.

Y/n stuck to that notion even as she laid wide awake in her bed that night. She could faintly hear Kaz talking to Inej, their muffled voices seeping through the old floorboards of the room above hers. While she couldn’t make out what was being said, y/n could tell by her friends’ tones that they were both interested in whatever the discussion was. Y/n could tell they were both too intrigued with the conversation to even consider saying goodnight to her much less keep her company tonight. So, once again, the way she had during various times when Kaz would inexplicably shut her out again for a bit, y/n talked herself to sleep again.

Unable to fall back asleep, y/n rubbed the fatigue from her eyes and rose out of her bed. She’d woken up to yet another nightmare. They weren’t foreign to her at this point, so she knew how to handle it. As such, Y/n groggily tiptoed down to the main level in search of some water and maybe a snack.

In her exhausted and still slightly on edge state, y/n hadn’t paid attention to the fact that there were a faint amber glow showing underneath the door to the kitchen. This meant, she unexpectedly came face to face with the scene on the other side of the door upon sleepily entering the kitchen. Y/n’s eyes widened and her hands instinctively lifted up in surrender as she took note of what she’d walked in on.

Inej was standing before Kaz in a tank top, her back to him. Kaz was behind Inej, a wet washcloth in one hand and a needle in the other. Both of Kaz’s hands were uncovered; he’d removed his gloves, for Inej. The slight maroon tint staining the washcloth told y/n that Kaz was attending to a wound on Inej’s back.

Y/n quickly glanced away from her friends, her eyes dashing to the grungy floor beneath her now shaking legs. “I-I.. I’m sorry,” she mumbled bashfully.

“It’s fine y/n/n,” Inej assured her.

Y/n could hear the slight disappointment in Inej’s voice loudly in the otherwise quiet room. It confirmed for y/n that whatever she’d walked in on was as intimate as it had looked. Y/n shook her head, trying to keep her tears away. She could do this, she could act bulletproof. She’d done it countless times now, surely she could do it again now even after witnessing how Kaz had pushed through his boundaries for Inej.

It wasn’t that y/n wasn’t proud of Kaz for being able to tend to someone’s wound, especially without his gloves no less. But, it was only a few days ago when y/n had gotten hurt on their failed heist and had to be patched up by Nina when Kaz refused to even look at her wound. So, seeing he and Inej like this tonight stung y/n more than any physical wound ever had.

As y/n glanced up from the ground, she chose not to look Kaz’s way. She didn’t want to see the indifferent and likely even frustrated look she expected to be on his face at her accidental interruption. “Sorry…” y/n whispered again, giving Inej a remorseful look.

It was the same look Jesper often gave y/n wherever Kaz would give y/n just enough attention to keep her foolish heart hanging on to a thread of hope. She knew what it was like to be in Inej’s position. Theoretically that is, since Inej had only been back a day and was already in a better, more romantically intimate situation with Kaz than y/n had made it to in the last several months. Nonetheless, y/n knew what it was like to be teetering on the edge of what felt like a moment where Kaz just might actually confess his love only for something or someone to interrupt and burst that moment. So even though her heart was breaking with every second she stood there in the kitchen, she still felt for Inej. Kaz wasn’t one to offer such a confession, but he knew how to keep someone on the ropes in search of one.

“Y/n,” Kaz’s voice echoed through the empty kitchen. When y/n’s reluctant gaze landed on him, he offered her his equivalent of a sympathetic expression. “Did you need something?” Kaz asked, making a show of looking at his pocket watch.

Instead of her eyes landing on Kaz’s golden pocket watch -he one she’d gifted him-, y/n’s eyes were focused on the paleness of his bare hands. Kaz had never so much as removed his gloves around y/n unless absolutely necessary. Yet here he was, practically touching Inej with his bare hands in the dimly lit kitchen in the early hours of the morning. Y/n swallowed thickly, hoping to ease the lump in her throat as she willed her eyes away from Kaz’s hands.

“I.. I umm…” y/n mumbled, panicking more when she saw Inej’s unspoken concern as to why she was so nervous. For once, Y/n let the voices of reason in her mind guide her tonight. You are not the exception, she told herself as she steeled her facial expressions. “I had a nightmare, I just came down for some water,” she explained, adding a ridiculously stiff nod as she sidestepped her friends.

“Are you okay?” Inej asked sweetly, moving away from Kaz to check on y/n.

Y/n gripped the glass in her hand tightly to keep from showing how much her hands were shaking from what felt like betrayal. She flicked the handle on and held the glass under the faucet for a few excruciatingly long seconds. “Yes, thank you Inej,” y/n replied shortly, turning the water off. She silently took a few sips of her water as Inej and Kaz watched. “I’m fine,” y/n added, boldly braving a fleeting glance at Kaz.

Y/n gritted her teeth with annoyance as Kaz wore what almost seemed like an attempt at an apologetic expression. She shook her head wordlessly before taking a few more sips of water. Y/n was still excessively thirsty, but every second she spent in the kitchen like this with Inej and Kaz was too much. She quickly dumped the remainder of her glass down the sink and mumbled a hushed goodbye to Inej before quickly departing from the room.

Y/n threw herself onto her bed, the tears bursting through the temporary dams she’d built minutes before. She didn’t even bother wiping them from her face, instead simply letting them cascade down her skin in all directions. By the time her mind had tired enough to let her sleep, her pillow was damp. The dampness only made y/n realize just how thirsty she still was, even more so after having cried for so long. But, she refused to leave her bedroom. While she figured Inej and Kaz likely had left the kitchen by now, y/n didn’t want to risk it.

Y/n wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Inej had only been home for a little over a day now and y/n was already crying herself to sleep. Truly it wasn’t Inej’s fault. Saints, it wasn’t even Kaz’s if y/n was being honest. Jesper and the others had tried to warn y/n about this. Y/n’s own mind tried to warn her about this. But it wasn’t until tonight that she truly started to realize those thoughts might be true.

Y/n knew that Kaz wasn’t a love confession type of person. And as much as she wished for one from him, she believed she’d somewhat accepted that it would never come. In reality, she just hoped to be the exception. Or, at a minimum to get a clear sign from Kaz that he authentically felt the same way y/n did when it came to this situation between them. She was foolish enough to think that maybe, just maybe, he’d come around. But as she felt her exhausted eyes drifting closed against her damp pillow, the voices of reason in y/n’s head amplified until there were louder than they ever had been before.

Y/n rocked on her heels as she waited for Inej to answer the door. She knocked moments ago, but still hadn’t heard anything from the other side of the door. Y/n looked at the plate of waffles she managed to sneak away from Nina as they grew colder on the plate in her hands. She leaned her ear up against the door to listen carefully for any sign Inej had heard her. Only, the door creaked open from the pressure of y/n’s head resting against it.

Y/n cautiously pushed Inej’s bedroom door open the rest of the way. She quickly examined the room, promptly noting that Inej wasn’t there. Nothing seemed out of place or as if something bad had happened. So, y/n figured her friend had ventured out for an early morning walk along the rooftops of the Barrel.

Y/n sighed softly to herself as she set the plate of waffles down on the ratty desk by Inej’s window. That’s when she saw something was out of place. On Inej’s windowsill, there was… a handpicked collection of y/f/f. While it struck y/n as peculiar, the writing on the minuscule note tucked into their stems made her freeze in place.

There wasn’t any explicit confession of love for Inej on the note, but y/n would know that handwriting anywhere. She blinked through her now watery eyes as she re-read the note again. “The Crows are glad to have you back,” y/n whispered, her lip trembling. It was Kaz’s writing and the flowers and note were as much of a love confession as one could expect from Kaz.

Y/n’s cheeks dampened with tears as she hastily exited Inej’s room. She couldn’t believe it. Kaz had actually given someone flowers. He’d actually even seemingly utilized his Barrel-learned skills to sneak into someone’s room to do so.

But the worst part for y/n wasn’t any of that. It wasn’t even the indirect note Kaz had written to Inej. Although, that hurt too as y/n could easily read past his words and how he tried to cover up his own emotions. She could see the note for what it was. And Kaz had never said nor written anything of the sort to y/n.

Yet, it was the specific type of flowers Kaz chose that served as the final blow. The fact Kaz picked y/f/f to gift Inej was the kill shot, the bullet that pierced through y/n’s façade of a bulletproof heart and erupted once it made contact with her soul. After all, it was less than a full 24 hours ago when Kaz had asked y/n what the best type of flowers were.

Y/n had foolishly let herself read that inquisition as a sign. Her wishful thinking also had her momentarily believing that the fact Kaz had remembered it enough to bring it up in a later conversation with her was proof he cared enough about y/n to not just ask questions and listen to her response, but to actually memorize her answers, her likes and dislikes, her favorite things; her favorite type of flowers. If y/n was honest with herself, she’d even been foolish enough to think Kaz might one day get some y/f/f for her. In fact in her mind, y/n had foolishly seen it play out the way it seemingly had in real life to Inej; a vague note -not directly confessing Kaz’s feelings but enough to make her feel loved, her favorite flowers making her realize he cared about her interests and took time to show it -even if he tried to cover it up as to not be too vulnerable, the flowers and indirect love note left casually for her in her room unsigned and unannounced.

That’s what made it hurt so much, y/n hadn’t gotten kaz so terribly wrong. She just wasn’t the exception. Y/n hadn’t learned her lesson in time to prevent her foolish heart from shattering into an infinite number of tiny shards. She should’ve walked out a long time ago. She should’ve listened to her friends’ warnings and her own internal voice of reason. Y/n should’ve never expected anything from Kaz. She should’ve known that even though she made headway, she’d never be Inej. And she’d never get his heart.

Y/n only made it a few steps before she felt her miserable body crumpling towards the floor. She let gravity slide her down the wall just outside of her bedroom, her right shoulder grazing the corner of the doorframe. Y/N’s head dropped into her shaking hands as more tears poured from her tired eyes. “How could I not see the signs?" She sobbed quietly, her nails poking the skin on her forehead as she shook.

Y/n had been a stepping stone, a lesson, a pointless heist one uses to gauge their ability and the threats the real heist would entail, and nothing more. She wasn’t Kaz’s exception. Inej was. Inej always had been. As far back as y/n could remember, Inej was the exception. Yet somehow while Inej was away, y/n had let herself believe it was her; that maybe y/n was the exception. When in reality, Kaz had been trying to better himself for her; for Inej. Kaz’s exception was Inej; not y/n. The love confession from Kaz was never going to come. Not even in a Kaz-like manner. Not to y/n at least. Inej was the one who got Kaz, the one who he wanted by his side and maybe one day on his arm, donning his ring on her left hand. Not y/n.

Y/n had finally learned her lesson, but in the most painful way possible. Instead of walking out when she first started getting mixed signals from Kaz, she’d stuck it out. She held out thinking he was the one. Thinking she’d be the one to be able to get through to him. But she wasn’t.

Y/n learned the hard way that she wasn’t the exception, Inej was. And somehow, y/n now had to act as if her foolish heart hadn’t ever lead her astray. That she never had fallen for her friend and boss. That she never once believed her wishful thinking was anything more than that. Y/n cared deeply for Inej and so, she’d have to keep these painful lessons to herself.

Epilogue:

“Oh,” Jesper sighed heavily, sharing a knowing look with Wylan. He frowned and slid out of his boyfriend’s embrace as he slowly made his way to y/n’s broken form. Jesper slid his back down the wall to the left of y/n, resting his head in her shoulder.

Wylan gazed lovingly at Jesper for a moment before joining him and y/n. He sat on the other side of y/n, in front of her door. “Are you okay?” He asked rhetorically. It was obvious from her red eyes, tangled hair, and chapped lips that she was wanting but okay. Yet, Wylan didn’t know how else to see if she was okay talking about it without making it worse. He suspected mentioning Kaz would only drive the knife in further.

“I’m so….,” y/n whimpered, pinching the bridge of her nose. She sniffled and shook her head. “How could I not see the signs?” Y/n whined again. “I actually let myself be foolish enough to think that one day…,” she trailed off as more tears left her eyes.

Jesper sighed sympathetically, intertwining y/n’s fingers with his own. “He doesn’t deserve you,” He declared. “It’s not foolish to want someone to shout from the rooftop their feelings for you,” Jesper encouraged, “he just isn’t the one.”

“Or,” y/n’s voice cracked, “maybe I… maybe it was wishful thinking to believe I would ever earn someone’s confessions of love”. She wiped her wet face on the fabric covering her shoulder since both boys were holding one of her hands.

“The day is gonna come for your confessions of love,” Wylan encouraged with a sweet smile. “Don’t give up hope just because he wasn’t the one,” he added quietly.

Jesper smiled at Wylan and nodded in agreement. “Exactly!” He exclaimed, tenderly nudging y/n’s shoulder. “When all is said and done, he just wasn't the one,” Jesper told her.

Y/n nodded quietly. She appreciated what her friends were trying to do, but she could still feel her heart breaking. They weren’t wrong, Kaz wasn’t the one, not for her anyways. That much y/n had learned the hard way. But, it didn’t erase the pain in her chest and the self blame echoing in her mind. Hopefully time would.

Taglist: @dil3mma @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @winstonthecow22 @alex-kazbrekkersimp @wolfmoonmusic @phoenix666stuff @kentucky-criedfricken @twlegit @valeridarkness @shara-ne @crazyhearttragedy @opheliaofficial07 @historynerd77 @missdreamofendless @nikfigueiredo @el-de-phi

Kaz Brekker Navigation

Six of Crows Navigation

Grishaverse Navigation

Book Boyfriends Navigation

Freddy Carter Navigation

My Main Masterlist (All My Works) Navigation

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

The Pain Of Pining- Lady Lesso x EverFem!Reader

Synopsis: Oh to face the embarrassment of rejection.

Warnings: Basically a Drabble, Lesso being an idiot, technically mutual pining, angst, hurt/no comfort.

Word Count: 1k

A/n: Let me know if you want a part two, I’d be interested in that. Btw, this is my first h/nc fic (and yes I’m aware it’s not that sad, the next one I have is fs though, but if I post that depends on how this one does) I have posted so let me know if you guys like them. Likes, comments, and reblogs are all welcomed!

© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved.

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

You didn't want to believe it. You felt like a damn fool, standing there dumbfounded. You had leapt onto your momentary confidence but you now desperately wanted to take it back.

Lesso stood there with a stoic mask, though internally her body and mind were screaming at her to take it back.

You just asked her out, and she just rejected you.

And not even a let-you-down-gently way, but a way that made you feel small and idiotic. In a way like, how dare you ask the Dean of Evil out?

Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to be sick, "I-I'm sorry, I must've misread the situation." You wanted to turn around and run but your body wanted you to stay, creating a sort of glitch in your movements.

But you left before Lesso could get any more words in, you had heard enough. You couldn't take the sheer embarrassment of the rejection.

But you thought that the liking was mutual, the way she'd return all of your flirting quips with ease.

Lesso's heart lurched within her as she watched you walk away. This is was the only thing she'd been waiting for, and she just destroyed it.

••●••

You had spent the rest of the day locked away in your quarters, crying. Technically, it was the entirety of the whole last week but who's keeping track? Well, Dovey was. And Lesso too, but she'd never let onto it.

Dovey tried daily, tried getting you out of your room and just eat a warm meal. To do something. But how can you go and eat a meal next to the woman who vehemently rejected you, how could you face that embarrassment?

On the third day, you finally explained that to Dovey. She, at the very least, deserved an explanation. Much to Lesso's dismay. Dovey practically talked off Lesso's ear when she heard what she had done.

"What do you have to say for yourself?!"

"Well, she's an Ever," That being the one and only reason Lesso said no. "Need I say more?"

"YES! What is the matter with you?! The poor girl is too embarrassed to face you! Why do you think she's been absent at meal times?!" Dovey was beyond frustrated with her evil counterpart.

And boy did Lesso understand why. Only during Dovey's thirty-minute rant did Lesso realize the extent of your feelings.

••●••

When you finally had the courage to get over your embarrassment, you were acting as if Lesso wasn't there. You acted as if she wasn't in the room, or as if she were simply invisible. And Lesso didn't know if she should be completely frustrated with that, or to understand it.

She chose frustration. She was frustrated because she missed the small smile that you had reserved for just her. She was frustrated because you no longer made any attempts to be the one person sitting closest to her. She was unbelievably frustrated because she couldn't see the admiration for her in your eyes any longer, she couldn't look into them at all.

But mainly, it wasn't really frustration with you. It was with herself. She had no one to blame but her.

••●••

It threw everyone off when you came to the meeting the cheeriest you've been in a fortnight. The way you had a smile on your face without having to hear a joke, the way you barely sat still in your seat.

Dovey was delighted, to say the least.

Just as you stood for the meeting's dismissal, Dovey asked the question everyone had, "It's nice to see you with a smile dear, what's the cause?"

"I've got something to look forward to tonight!"

Dovey's excitement was beginning to match yours, "Oh? Like what?" Lesso tried her damndest to hide her interest in the conversation.

"I've got a date tonight!" You answered excitedly, well, you were excited about the distraction but not the actual date, simply because it wasn't with the person you wanted most.

Lesso's heart just fell to her stomach. No, there's no way someone else has you. Not when it should be her.

Just when your eyes panned over to the woman you were due to spend your evening with, Lesso said something, more of a mumble, and you heard it, but you hoped you heard wrong.

Tears instantly violated your eyes as you watched her stand, "What? What did you just say?"

"Please, don't have someone waiting on you!"

"Lesso-"

She rushed towards you, "Please-"

"Don't! Don't do this. This isn't fair."

"It should be me-"

"No! You don't get to decide you suddenly want me when you can't have me!" Tears had started falling down your face, you hated that people were watching this unfold, "You can't just throw me away for later until you decide you finally want me. You don't get to do that."

Lesso frowned, she didn't see it as throwing you away, but that's what it was, "Don't, don't go on that date tonight. Please..." Lesso was finding it increasingly harder to deny her need for you.

"Why? For you?" That stung Lesso a bit, you knew that as you saw her wince. "You don't want me to be with you... You don't want me to be with someone else... How miserable do I have to be before you're happy?"

"I don't want you miserable."

"Then what the hell do you want?!"

"You! I want you!"

You shook your head, wiping the tears off your face, "Then you should have thought about that before. I'm not waiting around for you to decide what the hell you want." You turned and walked away.

Lesso watched. She watched again as you walked away. She wanted to yell after you. To tell you that you wouldn't have to wait for anything else. That she was ready to want you, to cherish you. But you didn't want to hear any of that.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @hxzxrdous @sgelessoanddoveykissing