#I need at least one day where the entire world is completely silent

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[barcaatthemoon]

little one || alexia putellas x child!reader ||

Alexia brings you with her to Barcelona training sessions.

You sat happily kicking your legs back and forth as you waited for your mother's teammates to get on the field. You were dressed up in your little barcelona kit that was an exact replica of what the coaches wore. Unofficially, you were the team's fun coordinator and official motivator. Everybody already knew that you were Alexia's sole reason for being, and making you happy was a good reason to win games.

"Bon dia," you greeted each player as she walked past you. Most of them gave you a high five or fist bump as they repeated the sentiment to you. A few of the girls were special, and the special ones got to hug you or in mapi and pina's cases, toss you up in the air for a bit. Those two were the most fun in your eyes, and you always gave them high marks on your little clipboard. As much as you loved your Mami, she rarely received high marks on the fun clipboard.

Mami's job wasn't to have fun, not even at home. Olga was your fun mom, even though you knew she wasn't really your mom like Alexia was. She was technically just Mami's girlfriend, but you thought she was like your other mother. Olga took care of you, made you good tasting breakfast, picked you up from school some days, and gave you the best goodnight hugs and kisses in the whole entire world, not that you'd ever tell Jenni that.

"Hija, come here, you're getting red," Mami told you. Since you came into practice with her, you'd been out on the field for a couple hours already. At first, you were sleeping, but then the sun became too bright for you to sleep around. You wanted to go inside again where it was cooler and you could nap, but it was more important to spend time with your big friends.

Besides, you knew that if you found the right girl on the right day, you'd get a nap. You scanned around as they practiced to figure out who your target was. Vicky and her group were out immediately, the younger players running around like you did after Lucy and Mapi fed you candies. Mami didn't like you to distract the girls with nap time, so you knew to stay away from her. Irene gave good cuddles, but she didn't look tired. Just as you were about to give up, you noticed Caro yawn.

Caro wasn't your favorite, she wasn't even really one of the special girls who gave you hugs. Mami explained that she wasn't Spanish and that in her country, people weren't as friendly. You thought it was funny that she was girlfriends with Marta, who was one of the friendliest people you had ever met, after Jenni and Leila, of course. Despite all of that, you knew that Caro would be your naptime partner. All you had to do was wait for the perfect moment to arise.

…

"Come on, she's a baby! You can totally curl her," Mapi huffed as Ona struggled to complete her last rep of "Bebita curls" as Mapi called them. "Ugh, let her down. I'll put in an extra set if that's okay with you, Bebita?"

"Actually, I need to find Caroline," you told Mapi. She looked surprised, but let you down anyway. "Oh, and it's okay Ona. Olga doesn't carry me around anymore unless it's piggy back rides. She says I'm too big for her arms now."

"Pssh, they're just weak. Give it time, your Mami will whip her into shape too." With that, Mapi patted you on the butt as she turned you towards where the Scandinavian players were working out together. You felt a little nervous approaching them, they were scarier without their Spanish counterparts. With Mapi, Aitana, and Marta gone, you realized just how big these women were. They were like giants, and despite the fact that you knew they were friendly, they scared you sometimes.

"Ahem, Miss Caroline, will you read my naptime book to me please?" You stood before them with your hands behind your back, fidgeting them silently. Fidgeting like that wasn't a good habit, at least that's what your Mami told you. You thought it was fine, especially since Abuela Eli told you it was normal.

"Go on, it's a big deal," Ingrid told her friend. Caro looked between Ingrid and Frido, who both seemed to share Ingrid's outlook. You were Alexia's baby, and everybody knew that, and normally you flocked to the other Spanish players. Caro felt like she was out of her depth doing this, but she went with you anyway because that was what you wanted.

"What do I do?" Caro asked you. You pointed over to the little spot that was made up for two people to lay down at. It was pretty late in practice, and if you didn't nap here, Mami would make you nap at home when you'd want to play. If you napped here, then you could play games when you got back home with Mami.

"Lay on the big pillow. You can use the blue blanket, I like the yellow one anyway. I'll lay down with you, and then you read my book to me. The English words are hard for me, I can only read Spanish," you told her. Caro nodded and did what you told her to. She wasn't a very good cuddler, but she was warm and didn't push you off of her when you got comfortable. You also liked her voice, and within a few minutes, you were asleep with Caro holding you protectively.

…

Some days, you were completely lost in your own little world. Other days, you watched everyone and everything around you. Today was a watchful day for you. Mami had an away game, so you'd ride with Abuela Eli and Tia Alba to the game. It was in Madrid, and the fans could get rowdy when they saw the Barcelona bus, and Mami hated bringing you that way.

"Hola Mapi," you said nonchalantly. Mapi gasped and looked around with her mouth agape. She was utterly shocked that you had detected her before she had managed to scare you. Nevermind that she had tried that trick countless times before without it actually working well. And the days it did work ended with you crying because Mapi scared you, and Mapi crying because she felt bad.

"Bebita, you must have spider senses for something. It is amazing, but be careful, you don't want to become a robot like your Mami," Mapi teased. She dug her fingers into your sides as you squirmed and laughed. You started to swat her away, and much to your luck and Mapi's chargin, Ingrid came over and interrupted.

"Hi (y/n)," Ingrid greeted you. She was kind of funny in that she rarely called anybody by their nicknames. Ana hadn't been like that, and sometimes you really missed the tall blonde lady, but Mami and Irene let you talk to her on the phone with the promise that you not tell Ingrid or Mapi. Mami didn't want them to get upset, even though they all used to be teammates with each other.

"Hola Ingrid." You leaned your head all the way back to see Ingrid. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before she joined you on the grass. "Whatcha doing?"

"Sitting with you," Ingrid answered. She tapped the tip of your nose, causing you to erupt into a little fit of giggles. Mapi groaned and muttered something under her breath. You didn't catch most of it, but you definitely heard a couple of words your Mami made you promise not to say until you were much older, and absolutely never in the presence of Eli. "Is that okay, tiny?"

"Yes, I like you Ingrid. You're nice and smell nice," you said. Ingrid laughed, especially once Mapi looked over at the two of you with a weird face.

"You never tell me that I smell nice, Bebita," Mapi huffed. You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned over towards Mapi. Hesitantly, you sniffled, pleasantly surprised that she sort of smelled like Ingrid. You knew it was because she spent a lot of time cuddling with Ingrid or hugging her. Mapi always smelled a little bit like whatever girl she was dating, just like Jenni used to smell like your Mami and Leila had lots of smells.

"You smell a little like Ingrid, but not as good," you told her honestly. Mapi sputtered and huffed, clearly about to start ranting when the big coach's whistle blew for practice to resume. "Play good and have fun. I don't have my checker board today, but I'm watching."

"Aye, aye captain!" Mapi saluted you. Ingrid pressed a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye before she dragged Mapi back over to the rest of the team. You don't know if they actually had fun because you went right back to playing with the grass and occasionally waving at your Mami when she stopped.

…

"Hija, please," Alexia pleaded with you. You had fallen asleep in the film room, and Alexia had hoped to just pass you onto Alba, but things were not going according to plan at all. You wanted to either go home with Olga, who was in Madrid already for work, or Alexia, who wouldn't let you ride all the way to Madrid with her on the team bus. "You can't go with me."

"Then I want Mama!" You were practically sobbing and stomping your feet. People could see you, but they tried to move onto the bus like seeing you so upset didn't break their hearts. "Mama! Mama! Mama! Not you, Mama!"

"What about Tia Alba and Abuela Eli, don't you want to see them too?" Alexia asked. She knelt down in front of you and tried to reach out, but you jerked away like her mere presence offended you. "Hija, I'm not telling you anymore. You're going with Tia Alba to my Mami's. They'll bring you to Madrid tomorrow, and you can see Mama then."

"Ale, look at her. It might be easier to just have Olga pick her up from the hotel," Alba reasoned. "Or, I could go up a night early and she can stay there."

"No, you're not leaving Mami to drive all that way by herself. We made this plan weeks ago, and it's not changing because someone is upset," Alexia said. Alba glanced between you and her older sister, amazed by how stubborn both of you were being. If there had ever been a doubt that you were Alexia's baby, it was cleared up with moments like these.

"Call Olga and see what she thinks," Alba said. At that, Alexia paused, knowing what her girlfriend would say. Olga was constantly getting at Alexia for being too stuck in her ways. Alexia was trying to get better about being flexible when it came to plans, but it was hard.

"N-no, that's not necessary," Alexia stammered a little. Alba was glad to see Alexia give up a little as she walked over towards you. "Mama's been gone for a long time, hasn't she?"

"Y-yeah," you answered. You weren't sobbing anymore, but you were definitely still crying quite a bit. "'miss her."

"I miss her too, a lot. I'm sorry that I didn't think about your feelings. I didn't even think to ask if you wanted to come with me, I just made plans for you to go with Alba. Abuela Eli misses you a lot, so I thought you'd want to spend time with them. How about you go with them for this, and next time I have to go far away, you and Olga can have a girls' weekend?" It wasn't a great compromise, but Alexia was hoping that it would work for you. You seemed to be contemplating it, which Alexia took as a good sign.

"This time I'll go with Tia Alba," you told her. Alexia sighed in relief as she wrapped her arms around you. "Bye Mami."

"Bye Bebita. Temo amo," Alexia whispered into your hairline as she peppered your face with kisses. You began to squirm away from her, but Alexia had a tight hold on you.

"Come on, let's go. Just wait until you see what Abuela Eli made for dinner," Alba said as she pried Alexia's arms off of you. You gave your Mami a kiss before you went with Alba for the night.

"Do you think Abuela Eli will let us all sleep in the big bed together?" you asked as you swung Alba's arm. She hated it, especially whenever Alexia used to do it to her, but with you, she found it kind of endearing.

"Definitely, I bet she's already got your teddies laid up in bed," Alba answered. You were so happy and excited that you hopped up randomly as Alba led you to her car. You sat on her shoulders and watched as the Barcelona bus left, and with it, your Mami for her big game. You didn't really care to watch it, but you were excited for being passed around everybody's laps for cuddles during the game.

[genshin-obsessed]

Could I request Diluc, Kaeya, and Zhongli trying their hardest -and failing- not to cry after their wife, due to being tired and frustrated during an argument, wonders if they should get divorced because she thinks she's tying them down?

Ooh, ok, I need to sleep BUT the chance to write angst? sleep can wait! I wasn't entirely sure how to end it so I just left it like this. I'm sure this could be much, much longer but I didn't wanna make it too long, yanno? meant as a fem!reader but I don't mentions pronouns, just the term 'wife'.

▻ Kaeya

He didn't really know when the argument started. He didn't know what it was about anymore either. It was one of those arguments where the points end up getting lost and you're just yelling at one another about something completely unrelated. Honestly, you two were basically screaming at one another. But then he heard that one, awful sentence he never wanted to hear in his life.

"Why don't we just get a divorce and I won't be ruining your life anymore!?" Suddenly, the room's so eerily quiet that you finally realized what you said. Your gaze held Kaeya's and you watched as his usual cocky exterior just melt and tears fill his beautiful eyes. He slapped the back of his hand against his lips to stop but he couldn't. Your words shook him to his core and every thought in his mind was wiped away.

At some point, he didn't even register you trying to calm him down as he fell to his knees, tears flooding down his face. He didn't even register as he wrapped his arms around you in a near death grip, begging for you to stay.

He loved you, adored you, cherished you, worshipped you basically. So... wherever did you get this idea that you were tying him down? That you were ruining his life? Just where did he end up going wrong for you to have such awful thoughts?

▻ Diluc

Often talking to Diluc was something that was a little touch and go. He didn't talk much and when he did, he usually only talked enough to get the point across and that was it. Even during arguments, Diluc only spoke when he felt it was necessary. To avoid pointless yelling matches, he kept quiet until you were done.

But tonight was... different. Maybe it was a hard day for him, maybe it was something you said, maybe it was that he had a frustrating spat with Kaeya, or maybe that he was dealing with issues at the tavern... but tonight, Diluc was just as angry as you. You two were yelling so much that even the maids heard you outside of the manor. There was no end in sight.

"Then leave, Diluc! Leave me and you can be happy doing whatever you want! I won't be here to tie you down anymore and you can be a free fucking bird!" Diluc opened his mouth to retaliate but nothing came out. It was like the world stopped moving for a second. This uncomfortable pit grew in his stomach and he just knew it was bad. You thought you were tying him down? Never once did such an atrocious thought ever cross his mind. Never during an argument, never during a bad day, not once in his life.

So... why did you? Diluc didn't realize just how much he hated the silence until that moment. He hated it so much, that the tears he attempted to bury just burst out in a loud cry. Anything to stop that deafening silence.

▻ Zhongli

Zhongli was by far, the worst person to argue with. Why? He just sat there silently until you were done. Zhongli didn't argue, no. He waited, listened, then just explained his side. If it didn't work, he'd step away. But even an archon such as himself had limits. Your arguments never turned into screaming matches, at least not on his end, but sometimes they dragged on.

Today was just one such day. Even with his near impeccable memory, the man couldn't recall what happened to lead you two here. You were so upset and angry and no matter what he did, he made it worse. Truth be told, he was angry and frustrated too. It was like neither of you were listening to each other anymore.

"Well, if it's all pointless then why don't we just quit now?! Let's just get a divorce and you can go on happily without a wife to just drag you down!" That's when everything just stopped. Zhongli slowly looked away as he registered the words, feeling his chest begin to constrict.

Why... did you say that? Why would you think that? Was that his fault? You figure began to blur and he fell to his knees, desperately grabbing the dining table for support. You were at his side and tried to calm him down, desperately trying to wipe his tears but anything you said after just... didn't touch him. The awful reality of his life had his heart in a death grip and he could only listen if he got away from it.

[azsazz]

Pirouettes & Promises

Mafia!Azriel x Ballerina!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Can u do a Mafia az and ballerina reader?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1029

Notes: Not the best, but I tried.

_________________________________________

There’s nothing that Azriel likes about this.

Well, that’s a lie. He likes you, up on stage in your perfectly blush pink outfit. He likes the likes the way the lighting washes over you, how your eyes light up when you nail a move that you’ve been practicing both in the studio or in the middle of his living room. He had all the furniture moved for you specifically, even offered to build you your own studio somewhere within the high rise, because there is no one more important than you.

He's still a little irked that you shut that idea down, preferring to take the trek to the other side of town to practice in the dingy little studio that has zero security for you. He knows this, of course, because your shiny new vehicle is fitted with a tracker, and because of the very details reports from his security detail. He bets you don’t know about the robbery that happened at the bodega on the corner of the block. The kid was fifteen and only trying to steal a bag of chips, but Azriel doesn’t like when any crime is too close to you.

That’s about everything about this situation he does like.

From his vantage point in one of the expensive boxes that he had no trouble putting on his card, he can see the entire audience. The way that they sit, silent in their seats, because your dance has completely hypnotized everyone in the theater. Some are leaned forward in their seats as they watch, utterly enraptured by you.

Azriel doesn’t like the way that everyone’s eyes are on you, watching the ways that you move and bend. You’re always so graceful, even when he’s pinning you to the mattress and fucking you through your fourth orgasm with tears in your eyes and bruises on your neck.

He wants to send his men in and reign terror on the crowd.

They’re scattered all over the place like a bunch of ants. There’s at the very least one guard by each door. Two outside his own private box, and his most trusted security detail are with him, flanking him on either side, ready to throw themselves in front of him should they need.

You don’t know that there’s one waiting outside of your dressing room, making sure no one slips inside and tampers with anything in your room while you perform. You don’t know that there are men waiting on either side of the stage, or in the crowd. Azriel spared no one from his employment on tonight.

He almost invited Rhysand, one of his most trusted colleagues, but thought better of it. They’ve been companions since their college days, but it’s best for them not to be out in the open together. Rhysand tells him that he’s too paranoid, but Azriel doesn’t care, because you are the most important thing in the world to him, and he will do anything to keep you safe.

Your final move never fails to take his breath away. Azriel’s seen it before, many many times, but with the addition of your costume and makeup, the sultry music and the sensual lighting, you are a dream. He can’t take his eyes off you.

You fucking nailed it.

There’s a beat of silence while the crowd stare in awe, before the theater erupts in thunderous cheers. You hold the pose for a moment longer before relaxing out of it, a beaming smile on your face as the excitement washes over you. Your chest heaves with the effort and your eyes rove the audience, drawn immediately to Azriel, where he’s standing on his feet just like the rest of them, clapping for you. He might not be grinning down at you, but he may as well be with the upturned corner of his mouth, as much of a smile as he’s willing to show in any public situation.

You know that in the bedroom later, he will be all smiles and compliments. Your stomach flips in anticipation, and you refrain from blowing a kiss in his direction because it will no doubt draw eyes toward your lover.

His smile falls when people begin tossing things on stage. They’re flowers, roses in a bloodred color that look like spilled blood on the floor. Your smile falters when he’s ushered from his suite and force yourself to focus on the rest of the attendees, smiling in gratitude and taking a bow.

You snag a rose from the floor on your way off the stage. Your fellow dancers and coaches alike are ready with hugs and congratulations on your dance, and you take a few moments to revel in their kind words. Azriel having been ushered from the room is not uncommon, but you were hoping he would at least stay until you exited the stage.

You get it, you really do, that he’s an important man with many enemies, but there’s a sting in your chest that he left so quickly. You want to embrace him, fall into his warmth and revel in the feeling of your perfect performance. You want his hands around your waist, holding you as tightly as possible, whispering words into your ear that make your pussy clench.

With a sigh, you shove your way into your dressing room, only to squeak with surprise when you spot Azriel, sitting on the couch, waiting for you.

He looks like sin, arms splayed wide, resting across the back of the couch. He looks as handsome as ever with his finely black, pressed shirt unbuttoned and showing off the dark curls of tattoos that ink his skin. Your mouth runs dry, even more so when he smirks at you.

“You did wonderful, sweetheart.”

You fling yourself into his arms.

Azriel catches you, because he always will, and cradles you to his chest, peppering kisses to your cheeks with a whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur back, looking up at him like the lovesick girl you are. He’s looking down at you in much the same way, and your heart beats hard in your chest when Azriel dips his head to capture your lips in a sweet, sensual kiss.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

candlelight 🕯️

hii it’s me again! congratulations on 1k!! i’ve thinking about this recently (a lot) because im seriously in my miguel ohara kick🥰

but can you do shy & nerdy reader with popular miguel who are dating?? he adores making her flustered and how shy she is.

he makes her ask for his help because he knows how badly she needs him? because she’s just so stressed out about school and stuff? as always if you’re not comfortable writing totally ignore this! this is my first time requesting smut so i don’t know if it’s silly or not! but if you write it i know you’ll do good by it bc ur such an amazing writer😌

-🎀

hiiii, thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting! ahhh, i'm so thrilled you asked for miguel; i was dying to write him and probably will more, especially if people want; i hope you like it! i hope i got enough of the request in here

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader word count: 2.2k notes: modern au, established relationship, fluff, smut (i'm going to keep with marking where it gets smutty, though, bc it's like a full fluff fic before any smut, for those who only want the fluff; MDNI!) part of my 1k celebration!

for anyone who doesn’t speak spanish, i don't want translations to be annoying in the middle or for you to have to scroll to the end, so thought putting them here was best: mi amor / amor mío: my love / literally something like love of mine but works more like emphasis cariño: term of endearment kind of like dear, literally affection mami: another term of endearment, more often cheeky or sexier descansa: rest dime: tell me que maravilla: a joke from the movie, literally what a marvel / wonder, kind of like how wonderful or even just amazing hope i didn't miss any others

The phone buzzing beside you startles you almost completely out of your chair. Coffee makes you jumpy. An entire pot in one night makes you… suspect what you’d be like on cocaine. You’d thought you’d put it on silent. No phone till at least one paper is done, you’d told yourself. Finals had you reeling, and you were desperate to make some progress. When you grab your phone, you see a text from Miguel:

You take your headphones off, and sure enough, a moment later hear a knock at the door. You open it to a Miguel in loose sweatpants and hoodie, dark hair messy, gym bag slung over one shoulder. Even these clothes could do nothing to hide the impressive broadness of his shoulders. 

“Hey, baby,” he says through a bright smile. He kisses your cheek and steps into the apartment. “I know you were trying to focus, but I was getting worried.” “Sorry, I had my headphones on; the neighbors were being too loud again, and I really needed to focus.” “No, not the waiting at your door, mi amor. I’m talking about all of… this,” he gestures wildly around the apartment then his gaze lands on you. “Those dishes were there when I was here days ago, and even though I’m pretty sure adding anything to that tower would topple it, you haven’t. When’s the last time you ate?” “I ha—“ you begin to retort, but he cuts you off. “And I mean real food.” You start again but just give up and shrug. “And you.” He steps close to you and frames your face with his hands. You lean into his touch as he caresses your face. “Baby, you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” You blush and look down immediately. 

It used to be worse, before you got together. When you were confused about his even noticing you, and instead he’d flirted with you. Even now that he was your boyfriend, it took very little from him to fluster you.

He can’t help but chuckle at your reaction. He always does.

“Don’t you? My gorgeous,” he kisses one warm cheek, “gorgeous,” he kisses the other, “girl,” he gives your nose a concluding peck. 

You nod shyly. “C’mon, cariño. Tell me,” he encourages, his tone still teasing but ever adoring. “I want to hear it." “I know you think I’m pretty,” you whisper. “Pretty? No, amor mío, I think flowers and bright colors are pretty; the ocean or a view of the mountains, too. But you, you are beauty personified.” “Miguel, stop,” you whisper through the smile you can’t help, hiding your face in his chest. He laughs lightly. His hand comes to your hair and scratches lovingly.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” He gives your forehead a kiss. “Before I told you you look terrible, baby.” He starts laughing loudly and holds you closer into his hug when you smack his chest and try to pull away. 

“That’s so mean!” gets muffled into his sweatshirt. “It’s not mean; it’s true. You’re still beautiful, but you need a break.” “I can’t, Miguel. I’m drowning in work still, and you know being sick last week really got me behind, and it feels like no matter how long I sit there, I’m no closer to finishing anything, and you’re right my apartment is falling apart, but every time I do something else I feel guilty for stalling on work, and, and —“

Before you can find another overwhelming thing to list, Miguel is hushing you and stroking your back in his warm embrace.

“Breathe, baby, breathe.” He sways you lightly then pulls back a bit to look into your eyes. His hands are caressing your face again, and his fingers brush lightly under your eyes, where you know there are dark circles, as he whispers, “You haven’t slept.” He sounds sad rather than accusatory. 

“Okay,” he starts softly. “Look, I know how much you have on your plate, and I’m not telling you you’re wrong to be stressed. I get it. But you can’t get it done like this, running on fumes and caffeine. How about this? I’m going to help you relax tonight, you’re going to forget about everything you have to do, you’re going to sleep well, and then tomorrow morning you’ll get back to it all.” “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry about me. And I’ll rest after finals.” Just then a car horn blares near your window, making you jump cartoonishly. “Yeah, you seem totally fine,” Miguel deadpans teasingly. “There’s nothing wrong with taking some time, Y/N… And accepting a little a help, okay?”

You nod lightly. “Great,” he gives you a quick peck and moves toward your kitchen, hunting around your barren fridge and cabinets. “Here’s the game plan then. You are going to put on your favorite playlist then go take a warm shower for as long as you like. Your kitchen is as empty as your stomach, so I am going to run down the street to pick up some empanadas then I’ll work on cleaning up this war zone a little bit when I get back.”

“You don’t have to clean.” “Stop fighting me,” he tsks. “Besides you know I don’t mind cleaning. I’m glad I’m not hearing complaints about the food at least,” he laughs. “I love empanadas,” you whisper defeatedly. He cackles. “Who doesn’t?” He kisses you as he moves past you toward the door. “Be back soon. No working! I expect you in the shower when I get back.” You quirk an eyebrow teasingly at him. You were still too shy to say anything teasing, but he’d been working you out of your shell during your time together. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t really like that aspect of being with Miguel. 

His eyebrows mimic yours, and he chuckles lowly. “Don’t give me that look, mami, or you’re not getting me out the door, and you’ll miss out on the empanadas.”

You pull the neck of your shirt up to cover your face, making him laugh. You hear him bound back over to you from the door. He pulls your shirt back down, gives you a short but intense kiss, then heads out. 

Miguel is back before you know it. You are in fact in the shower when you hear him return. You’re already rinsing, but you linger a little longer, enjoying the feeling of the warm water easing the stresses off your tense body. 

When you leave your room to join him again, you’re immediately hit with the delicious smell of food. You see it resting on the counter and find Miguel washing your dishes. 

You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his firm torso, resting your head on his back. “Hola, cariño,” he coos. “I’m almost done.” You nod into him, humming.

When he finishes up, he turns in your arms, bringing his own large ones around you. He leans down and kisses you softly. “Hungry?” 

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles. 

You opt to eat on the sofa, getting comfy. Miguel does most of the talking. Between how tired and how hungry you are, you don’t have the energy or available mouth to talk much. He doesn’t seem to mind, happy to regale you with his silly stories.

When you finish, Miguel cleans up, holding you down and giving you a faux menacing look when you try to get up to help. 

When he comes back, he settles much closer to you than he had been before. You relish his warmth, physical and emotional, and lean into him. 

“Turn around,” he whispers.

“Hm?” “Like this.” He adjusts your body so you’re facing away from him and starts massaging your shoulders. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until the amazing feeling of its being relieved somewhat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miguel,” you exhale approvingly, earning a chuckle.

“I like it when you say my name like that.” He leans in and whispers into your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck deliciously, “Reminds me of other times you end up whining my name.”

It’s shocking how quickly he works you up. You turn to look at him, and when you do, his expression shifts from teasing to intrigued.

“Oh?” he asks. He smirks. “I know that look.” He leans in and kisses your neck sloppily, and you whimper. You’re embarrassed at the sound, but he seems to like it. You feel him smile against the skin under your jaw. “I’m more than happy to give you what you want, but I need to know what that is to give it to you.” His voice is much lower but just as mischievous.

“Miguel,” you complain. “Dime, mi amor.” 

“I —“ Any other words get caught in your throat. Your throat he’s busy sucking on.

“Please, baby. C’mon, I know you can. Tell me what you want.” He runs his teeth along your neck like he knows you like. You often joke he feels like he has fangs when he does. “I want you,” you tell him. 

“Yeah?” “Mhm…”

“I’m yours, mami. How do you want me?”

“I want you to make me feel good.” “Oh, I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so, so good.” He punctuates his words with kisses, working his way up your neck, your jaw, your mouth. “Tell me how,” he whispers, and you feel his lips grazing yours with each word.

You want to relax, and you know exactly what relaxes you the most. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyebrows jump in surprise. Such directness was unlike you. Your exhaustion was probably weakening your filter, and the way he was already making you feel certainly wasn’t helping it. You almost get shy about it, but when you see just how dark his eyes have gotten, see his Adam’s apple bob and his bottom lip come between his teeth, you keep yourself from shrinking away. He nods slowly, staring deeply into your eyes, then kisses you hard. “Get naked,” he says gruffly. 

Already starting to do as he says, you weakly whisper, “You too?” He chuckles lightly but obliges quickly. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him like this. He’s so beautiful. His broad chest and toned abs; his caramel skin and dark hair.

You look back at his face and find he’s noticed you staring at his body. He’s so confident, you think he’s going to tease you about it. Instead, with an adoring smile, he tells you, “That’s how I feel when I see you, too.” You lean up and kiss him, pouring all the emotions you can’t articulate in words into it. 

Without disconnecting your lips, his body guides yours back down until you’re completely prone. He keeps kissing you until you’re breathless, lovingly attends to your neck and down your chest. He lingers there, his tongue making you arch your back, pushing your body up into the sensations he’s delivering. He sucks harder at your visceral reaction then hotly finishes his path down, his face now aligned between your thighs.

He looks at you intently and whispers, “Que maravilla.”

He looks up at you, eyes black storms you lose yourself in as his mouth connects with your body. 

From your delightful vantage point, you watch his muscular shoulders contort as he moves to pleasure you. He looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying it, and seeing him so into it gives you confidence. You start subtly moving your hips in rhythm with his motions. His hands tighten where they hold your thighs, and, mortified, you interpret this as his telling you to stay still, so you do. 

Then Miguel shakes his head hard — the vibrations of which shoot shocking pleasure into you — and he pants, “Keep doing that. Show me how you want it.” His strong grip pushes and pulls you in a movement close to what you were just doing. You take over and move faster. He’s nodding now, and the shake of it has your thighs shaking on either side of his head. 

You’re making loud whimpering sounds when you yell, “Mi — ahh — Migueeell.” He doubles his efforts, picking up his pace and pressing hard against you. You come on his face, and he looks feral as he eats you through it. When you’re done, he licks up your entire slit before shuffling his body back over yours. You’re chest to chest, and his hand comes up to stroke your head. “Good?” 

Your cheeks warm, and you nod shyly. He giggles and gives you a peck. “You’re adorable, mi amor.”

Your legs feel delightfully like jelly as you move them, wrapping them around his waist. He hums approvingly and gives one thigh a tight squeeze, pulling it impossibly closer to his body. He begins stroking it as he kisses you lazily. Your hands entwine in his thick hair, stroke his strong back, hold him close.

When he shifts his weight slightly on top of you, you notice his hardness against your body.

“You want me to…” you whisper, thrusting your hips up into his in place of words.

“Uh-uh, maybe in a little bit, baby, but for right now, I just want you to relax.” 

He continues kisses you languidly, enveloping you in his body heat, and as you close your eyes and melt into the sensations, you’re sure you’re going to have no trouble sleeping soundly tonight. 

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

[withacapitalp]

Starry, Starry Night Pt 1

Happy birthday dear friend!!! @thefreakandthehair Lex you are a pillar of the fandom, an amazing writer, and just all around one of my most favorite human beings. I'm so so lucky to get to call you one of my best friends and I hope this fic puts a smile on your face!! @stevethehairington and @hbyrde36 thank you for betaing and for encouragement!!!!

Read it on ao3 instead here

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

Steve was asleep at the counter. 

Again. 

Robin placed another VHS precariously on the top of the pile surrounding him, making sure to adjust it so it wouldn’t fall. A copy of Secret Admirer had toppled down half a dozen boxes when she placed it without care earlier, and Steve had almost woken up just from the sound. She had worked her way through all of the romantic comedy returns and was halfway through the horrors already, and the pile was up to Steve’s waist. 

Her working theory was that she would be able to get all the way through the action movies before Steve was completely covered in tapes. 

Part of her wanted to feel at least a little bad for fucking with him every single time he fell asleep. After all it wasn’t like Robin hadn’t fallen asleep on the job herself once or twice, and Family Video wasn’t exactly the hardest job in the world. Now that they lived in a veritable ghost town, the store was lucky to get even a handful of patrons every day. 

Apart from her own boredom, there wasn’t really any reason to mess with him or try to wake him up. 

But there lay the crux of the problem. Robin and Steve had gotten their jobs as one so they could spend time together. Not so Robin could get stuck watching her best friend drool on the counter she would inevitably be forced to clean before they closed tonight. 

So, tape fort. 

Robin’s theories were almost immediately dashed though, because just as she placed her fourth copy of Rosemary’s Baby down, Steve stretched out his arms, knocking directly into the wall in front of him and bringing that entire cluster of VHS cases down on his head. 

“Ow! What! Why?!” Steve shouted, jerking upwards, startling as the rest of the tapes surrounding him began to tumble to the floor. 

Robin snickered to herself as she watched the melee, hopping up onto the counter next to where he had been lying his head and beginning to gather up the failed remnants of her experiment. 

“Good morning Dingus,” She sang, lightly tapping him on the top of the head with Ghostbusters, “Did you have a good rest?” 

“Robin,” Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands and heaving an absolutely ginormous sigh, “Why?” 

“Hey, this is your fault,” Robin protested, putting the stack of tapes to the side and sliding to the floor to start grabbing the rest. 

“My fault?” Steve repeated, sliding his fingers away from his eyes so he could glare at her while still hiding his face. 

“This is the fifth time you’ve fallen asleep on me this week, Dingus,” Robin said, giving him a look as she waved a VHS around her head, “Look at this place. Look at how boring it is. I need enrichment, I’m like a tiger in a zoo.”

Steve lowered his hands, raising a brow and silently judging her for a second before grumbling and joining her on the ground.  

“What? Was making paper clip crowns and hiding M&Ms in my pockets not enriching enough anymore?” Steve asked rhetorically, referencing the other things she had done this week during his impromptu naps as he collected the rest of the rom-coms. 

“Nope.” She replied, popping the p as she stood, tapes in hand, “Five times, Stevifer. Five.” 

“So?”

“So, it’s only Wednesday!” Robin shouted, walking around the counter and towards the shelves, knowing Steve would be following close behind with his own stack. “Is Eddie really still that excited about getting you in his bed every night?”

“You would be the first person to know,” Steve said, wagging his eyebrows and looking far too smug for Robin’s tastes. 

That much was true. Steve told Robin everything. What he had for breakfast, any weird customers that came in while she wasn’t scheduled, the stupid things the kids said, and, to the chagrin of both Eddie and Robin, anything and everything to do with his sex life. 

And god damn it did her best friends have a lot of sex. 

“Okay, so it’s not Eddie keeping you up,” Robin said, a small pit beginning to form in her stomach. She had hoped it was just them fucking like bunnies and Steve needing to recharge during the mornings, but now she was pretty sure it was the other thing, and that was a lot worse. 

There was no quick fix for that particular problem. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Robin asked softly, turning towards her best friend and trying to be as gentle as allowed. 

“Not really,” Steve said, keeping his eyes on the shelves and avoiding her gaze.

Okay, so not gentle. Trying to get Steve to open up was a weird careful tightrope walk between being gentle enough to lower down his guard, while also being firm enough that he didn’t feel like he was being treated like a child. So far Robin was the only one who managed to succeed most of the time, but even she stumbled on occasion. 

“You know I don’t mind covering for you, but you can’t keep this up, Dingus,” Robin tried, nudging their shoulders together as she did, hoping that a little extra physical contact would open Steve up even more, “It’s not healthy, and they’re not worth it.”  

Wrong thing to say. It was like she could physically see the walls coming back up around him. 

“I’ll be fine, Robin,” Steve said, the forced nonchalance in his tone hurting her almost as much as it was definitely hurting him. 

“You’re not sleeping again,” She stated plainly, putting it out there for both of them to see. Steve flinched at her words as if she had physically struck him. 

“I’m just…still adjusting,” He tried. 

Adjusting was still figuring out how the oven worked at Eddie’s new trailer, or trying to find the best routine for sharing the bathroom in the morning. Adjusting was planning work schedules, learning how to live together, becoming used to each other's rhythms. 

Whatever was happening here wasn’t adjusting. 

“Steve, It’s been almost a month since…” Robin started, trailing off as she tried to find the right words to help him. 

Steve already had them. 

“Since what, Robin? Since my parents kicked me out?” Steve interrupted, his voice hard and angry as he forced himself to meet her eyes, as if challenging her to try and find a kinder way to say it. 

That wasn’t a challenge she was planning to take on. There was no making this better. 

“Yeah, since your parents kicked you out,” She repeated, refusing to meet his level of emotion, knowing that would only make Steve even angrier. Sure enough he pushed away from her, stalking over to the counter and furiously punching returns into the computer, a storm cloud of rage swirling around him. 

“Steve-”

“God Robin, will you just drop it?!” Steve snapped. 

Robin leaned ever so slightly back at his sudden shift and Steve let his eyes slip shut, hanging his head low and taking a slow deep breath. The anger drained from his face, leaving behind only barely there frustration, and a longing that his parents didn’t fucking deserve from a son that was far too good for them.

It wasn’t exactly a shock when Richard and Diane showed up and told their son to pack his shit and leave, but that didn’t make it any less painful for Steve. Robin had never had any faith in them, but for some reason Steve did. He expected his parents to love him just as much as he loved them, and he had deluded himself into thinking that they had only ever done the things they did to try and make him better. 

Letting go of that couldn’t be easy, but it was also one of the few things about Steve that Robin felt she would probably never fully understand. 

“Please.” Steve whispered, Robin’s heart breaking at the pain in his voice, “I just don’t wanna talk about it, Bobbin.” 

Rather than answering she rounded the counter, pressing her body into his side and leaning her head against his shoulder. Steve adjusted to fit her automatically, two becoming one as she let Steve breathe into the pain instead of ignore it. 

“Were you at least having a good dream?” Robin asked, her voice slightly muffled by the soft sweater Steve was wearing, wishing she had a way to help him. 

“Oh yeah, it was great,” He said with a soft laugh, “I was lying back on a mountain of pillows while Eddie was using his massive thick-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll be forced to smother you next time you fall asleep at work,” Robin groaned, sticking her tongue out and gagging as she pushed Steve away from her. She hammed it up for extra effect, but she couldn’t hide the smile on her lips as she listened to Steve’s laughter. 

He hadn’t laughed as much in the last few weeks, and Robin hadn’t realized how much she missed the sound. It reminded her of everything good, all the stuff they hadn’t really been able to do since he moved in with Eddie. Burning breakfast together, dancing around the house in their socks, even trying to muffle their giggles in her bed so they wouldn’t wake her parents, looking through the skylight that was above her bed at the stars…

Huh. Maybe she did have an idea of how to help. 

“Now that you’re awake, I’m going to take my break,” Robin said in a faux casual tone, stretching and trying to hide the Cheshire cat grin overtaking her face. 

“You built a tape fort around me because you were annoyed I fell asleep and you were alone, so the first thing you do when I wake up is go hide in the back alone?” Steve complained, turning back to the computer and restarting the returns he had begun. 

“Love you too,” Robin said, pecking his cheek as she practically skipped towards the breakroom. She closed and locked the door, pressing her ear to it for a second just to make sure Steve wasn’t eavesdropping before almost bolting over to the phone in the corner, punching in the number for the Thatcher’s Tires and bouncing in place as she listened to the dial tone. 

This was a great idea. One of her best. 

“Hey Pete, it’s Robin. Can you put Eddie on the phone?”

Part two is coming tomorrow!! If you want to be tagged say it in a reblog!!

[outsideratheart]

On a Night Like Tonight (Alex Scott x reader)

Retirement. A word that had been playing on your mind for a the past 12 months. After Australia, Team GB went on to win gold in the Olympics and it left only one trophy missing from your cabinet. The World Cup.

2027, Brazil. It was the day that you gave the fans the thing you promised 4 years ago. You lead your team to their first World Cup star and did so by beating the United States on penalties.

Unlike last year Alex was pitch side with Fara eagerly waiting for you to come over and when you did she welcomed you like the champion you now were or at least she gave you the PG version given you were live on TV.

You were overcome with emotion as Alex held you in her arms. To the outside world the tears you were clearly shedding were that of happiness but between you and Alex you knew they were sad tears too.

The celebration awaiting you back in England was unlike anything you could have imagined. It put the euros one to shame. The whole country showed up to celebrate you and you made sure to savour every moment.

Each player had their turn on the microphone and the fans loved it but when it was your turn to speak the fans took one look at your face and went silent. You could hear a pin drop in Trafalgar Square.

“You all know I hate being a bench warmer and I don’t want to be one of those players the play long after their time is up. It has been my greatest honour being your captain for over ten years but it is time that I pass on the torch and hang the boots up”

It was announced the following day that England’s match against Germany at Wembley in one month’s time would be you final game in an England shirt. The match sold out in minutes and it set the perfect scene for your send off.

The days leading up to it was hectic, you barely had a second to yourself and most of all it was extremely overwhelming. You questioned if you had made the right decision. You were still playing world class football, why stop now? Your question was answered one night at St George’s Park. It was the night before your final game and the entire team could tell you were having an hard time. It’s the reason Sarina allowed Alex to stay in your room even though it was against the rules.

“I don’t think I can do it”

Alex looked up from where she was laying on your chest.

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“Football is all I’ve ever known Al, I’m not sure I can give it up”

“You’re not retiring completely. In a week’s time you will be back at Cobham with Chelsea”

“I’m going to be home a lot more”

“You make it sound like a bad thing. Remember the reason that made you consider retiring in the first place?”

It was a night you remember well. You and Alex spent over an hour talking about the future and what it could look like. You got so caught up in the hypotheticals that reality became disappointing. It made you want to skip the next few years so that you could start the next chapter of your life, the one where being captain was no longer the highest responsibility you had.

You feel asleep that night dreaming of the future and when you woke up you were ready to say goodbye to the team that you loved so much.

It was a bitter sweet feeling as the final whistle was blown. The entire England team, both the players on the bench and on the pitch, came running to you. It that moment you felt loved and appreciated. It was a moment that you would remember for the rest of your life. As you take a lap around the field you try to take in as much as you can.

“You know you don’t have to retire” Leah appears by your side.

“It’s my time. I have loved playing for this team and every time I wear this badge it is a great honour but this is my final curtain call Leah, my swan song” You pull the blonde into your side and kiss the side of her head.

“Don’t be getting soft. Save that for Alex because we need to go do media” Truth is Leah didn’t want you to leave, she had told you this much but your mind was yet.

“I know but before that there’s something I need to do”

You pull Leah towards the middle of the pitch, away from the shouting fans, the centre circle becoming your own little bubble.

“I have been captain of this team for almost ten years. I have lead them to the highest highs and the lowest lows. It takes a lot from you when you wear this band but it can also reward in the best possible way. I have spoken with Sarina about who I want to be my successor and that person is you Leah”

With a heavy heart you take the armband off and pull it up Leah’s arm. You were passing the torch, this was a changing of the guard and you were doing it for the whole to see.

By the time you reach Alex and the BBC team you are on the very line fine between keeping it together and breaking completely.

The world now knew about the two of you but with a camera pointed straight at you, you felt the need to stay professional but Alex soon changed that.

“We’re not rolling. It’s playing her career highlights” one of the camera men tells Alex.

“Come here” The BBC presenter pulls you into her arms and for a brief moment you allow yourself to feel, feel everything that you have been bottling up since you woke up.

“It’s over. I’ve played my last game as a lioness” you could feel tears falling down your face and you were aware that there were multiple people watching the interaction but no longer had to strength to bottle up your emotions.

The same man who told you that the cameras were rolling informed you that they would be live in 5, then proceeded to count down using his fingers.

As a way of regaining control of your emotions and in attempt of staying together you move away from Alex and closer to Jill and Fara. As if knowing that you still weren’t ready to answer the unavoidable questions Leah takes charge of the interview and the presenters follow her lead. It is when she is asked a question only you can answer do you need to get involved.

“Jill asked what’s next for you?” Leah nudges you.

“I go back to Chelsea. As for the next international break, well I have no idea. Maybe go on holiday, what do you say Al, fancy the Maldives?”

“Sure, why not. Fara can cover for me”

“Seriously though Y/N. What’s next? When asked about retiring you said that you have given over 15 years to your country and that it’s time to prioritise your personal life. I think I remember you saying it’s what our dear Alex over here deserves”

Leah switches places with you when Alex is mentioned. Sensing that being next to your person may bring you more peace and encourage you to answer the question without making jokes.

“If the song is right then I believe I hear wedding bells” Jills says.

You wonder what song she is referring to and upon turning to Alex you see that she is also at loss.

“You know the song. The one about kissing in a tree. I won’t sing it seen as though we are live on air and I am a professional”

With Jill’s clue you know exactly the song she is talking about although you think you may have been in high school when you last heard it.

“Since when are you a professional?” You scoff. You refused to bite.

“I get what you’re saying. I believe it says first comes love”

“Check” Alex plays along.

Before Leah continues you turn to Alex. Your hand sat on the small of her back and unknowingly to the women around, you tap you ring finger which was missing a very important piece of jewellery. Alex leans into you with her head on your shoulder and tells you to go for it.

“Then comes marriage-“

“Check” you were proud to finally announce that you had in fact married Alex but up until this moment it was only your immediate families that knew.

The faces of your friends were priceless. In that moment you wish you had a camera to take a photo but then you remember you are on live TV. Oh god, you were live on the BBC. Not only had you told your friends about your nuptials, you had told the entire world.

“Shit”

“Y/N” Alex playfully slaps your arm “We are live”

“I am now aware of this Al”

“I would like to apologise for the language made by Y/N Y/L/N”

“Don’t you mean Y/N Scott?” Jill asks.

“No she does not” you say rather defensively “Alex took my name, she is Alex Y/L/N”

“How about we discuss the details of our marriage when we are not live on TV.” Alex tries to get the interview back on track which you are happy to do.

You then proceed to talk all things football. Jill recalls your first training session as a lioness, Fara tells her favourite Y/N Y/L/N stories, Leah brings you to tears once again when she tells you about how you showed her what is possible and Alex grins ear to ear when she explains all the ways that you have changed the game and how a lot of people have you to thank for how far the game has come.

Almost an hour later you are in one of the hospitality suites at Wembley. The news of you and Alex had spread to rest of the team and the party that was originally planned for your retirement has now turned into a retirement / wedding party.

It doesn’t take much for you to get overwhelmed, how could you not. You escape to one of the boxes near the suite, the cold air grounds you and the silence is welcoming. Looking out at the pitch you are filled with nostalgia as memories flood your mind, it’s as if a highlight reel is playing.

“People are asking where you are?”

You feel your body relax upon hearing your wife’s voice. It is one of the things you love most about her.

“You found me. Any chance I can persuade you to stay here with me for a moment?”

“I can think of a few things”

“Can one of them be a hug? I could really use one”

Alex’s eyebrows furrow. You were a cuddler, Alex learned this very early on in your relationship but there is something about you asking now and the way you did it. You sound so vulnerable.

Your wife doesn’t say anything, instead she opens her arms and you melt into her hold.

“You know a lot of people are in there waiting to celebrate you, with you. Yet you are out here alone or at least you were until I found you”

“I want to celebrate with you though and everyone keeps stopping me from doing that. They want Y/N the England captain or I guess now it’s former captain but I just want to be —“

“Y/N, my wife”

Her wife. It sounds cliche like something that would be said in a movie or a line in a book but you loved hearing her say that and even now as you both wear your rings, you couldn’t believe that she had agreed to marry you.

“Can we go home?”

Alex knew that you liked to party and it didn’t take much to persuade to celebrate something no matter how small. It wasn’t like you to leave early and Alex knew that you might be feeling more than you are letting on if you want to leave a party that was honouring your international career.

“I didn’t tell you this but Ella and Alessia have wrote a speech. They read it to me and you’ll want to hear it. If after that you still want to go home then we will, I promise”

You stayed for the speech and boy are you glad you did. It was one of the most heartfelt yet hilarious speeches you have heard. You did end up going home but not till hours later. After hearing your plea, Alex stayed by your side the entire night and her presence allowed you to relax and have fun. A chapter of the book you called life was over and the chapters that followed would go on to be some of your favourite because each and every one of them included you wife Alex Scott.

[celesthysaturn]

Note: Meme, rant, Headcanon Yandere, One shot Yandere

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Even though my obsession with yanderes is just my favorite entertainment in my world of fanfics and ASMR so I can escape the reality where there is no one who loves me intensely and even fantasize my darkest desires without guilt, I'm feeling very stressed about life that I take. I barely sleep or even eat properly besides my precious coffee in the morning ☕ (I lost a lot of weight because of this, which is not normal).

So, deep in my heart, I wonder what it's like to have a yandere in real life who was so obsessed with me that I was his priority and treated my health and well-being as if it were the most precious thing he needed to take care of. .

So, if he sees my current situation, I think he would go crazy 🤭

Dude, I almost passed out at school because I hadn't eaten or slept in days, besides, I study during the day so and I'm still doing an internship, I'm definitely going to end up being admitted. I think he needs to come help me immediately

Do you also feel tired and needy? So here's a Yandere Headcanon for you 🫵

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who are shocked when they discover that you are slowly killing yourself (or rather, have stopped taking care of yourself) and see that your mental and physical health is eroding because of the life you have decided to lead

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who see no other option and now they themselves will have to take care of you for you, and so, they finally decide to kidnap you.

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes will make you completely dependent on them for your new life routine and even your basic needs. This means that they will bathe you themselves, dress you in comfortable and climate-appropriate clothes, cook and feed you in your mouth, make you take medicines and vitamins, take you punctually to medical appointments, blood tests and therapies (or perhaps they will do the exams themselves). Oh! Don't forget the main thing, lots of love and affection even if you refuse ♥️

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who will suffocate you with lots of affection, kisses and hugs, or at least, will try to demonstrate their great love for you in soft and attentive touches, looks and ears that are totally helpful to what you do and will talk to you every night how special you are to them, how precious you are

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes that after 3 months of extreme care, he finally feels more comfortable letting you do your basic needs alone, but with their supervision, but you will still continue to live with him, you will only be able to leave for a while limited and will not allow you to do something that is not good for your health such as sleeping late, eating a lot of junk, accidentally hurting yourself, walking barefoot, otherwise he will go crazy once again and the whole childcare routine will start all over again

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Everything is so peaceful, my body feels relaxed and fresh as if I had taken a delicious bath and received a massage right after. As I lie in a soft bed, on warm, clean duvets and pillows in a silent, soft environment that smells like chamomile (when was the last time I cleaned my room?), everything made me stay in the position I'm in for hours and with eyes closed to relax in this very pleasant moment, maybe I should even go back to sleep.

For a small moment, I seem to have finally escaped my daily problems and routine, as that infernal alarm clock hasn't gone off yet... wait, where am I?!!!!!!!!

I finally realized why everything is so good...

"Good morning, sweetie. How's my sweetie feeling?" The stranger appeared at the bedroom door, which had been open the entire time, and walked towards me subtly as if approaching a fragile and injured animal. Soon, he sat on the side of the bed I was on and placed one of his warm, wet hands on my forehead.

"Your body temperature is normal, your face looks healthier, and your dark circles are gone. It seems like you rested very well, I feel so relieved!" Giving a sigh of satisfaction, and then he placed a kiss on my forehead with that same hand gently grabbing my chin with his thumb on mine. He kept his loving, soft gaze on me.

"Where am I?" My question was automatic, I didn't know if I remained paralyzed or jumped out of bed to run towards the bedroom door that had been open the whole time, suspecting that he was watching me since I was still sleeping, or was already prepared to attack me. rock when I finally woke up.

It wouldn't do any good anyway, since he would have locked all exit access to the outside and would already be prepared for any attack or kidnapping outbreak.

"You are in my house, or rather in our sweet and cozy home that I have prepared for us for the rest of our lives from now on."

"H-What do you mean? What's this story?"

"It's for your own good, Sweetheart, I couldn't bear to see my baby having such a hard and unfair life on the outside..."

"You should't..."

"No, honey, it's YOU who shouldn't do this to me. I believed that you could be independent and take care of yourself while I finished all the plans for us to have the dream life when we could finally move away from this society and all the tiring life and stressful while I would take care of everything to support and protect our home and you would be my beautiful homely wife and totally spoiled by me." He paused, panting after his harsh speech, and slowly calming down. Now, his welcoming expression now seemed like a frightening and overbearing father/mother. "But after I saw you killing yourself to have a minimally comfortable life, I will have to take this position and you will live the life I prepared for you and me from now on."

So, he got up, walked out of the room and then, within a few seconds, came back with a bowl of soup, glass of water and pills all on a tray. I was too shocked to react.

"Your stomach must be empty after you slept so much and ingested all the sedative I gave you." Sitting once again on the bed, now, even closer as he places the tray carefully on his lap, his right hand taking my cheese again with his thumb on my cheek with a firmer grip and the other hand dipping the spoon into the vegetable soup and lifting it towards me. His loving and welcoming gazes were even more intense.

"Now, my Sweetheart, be obedient and open your mouth ♥️"

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Note: Don’t forget to drink lots of water and get plenty of rest 😉

[emeritusemeritus]

Hello!! If it isn't too much to ask, could you make a Fred fic with reader on her period? Mine are absolutely excruciating, especially in the first two days, to the point of crying on the floor and stuff :(( it's totally okay if you don't want to, I just like to imagine Fred trying his hardest to pamper his s/o (and probably freak out a bit because honestly, periods are a nightmare men will never understand). Have a nice day ♡

Anon, it would be my pleasure! I’m so sorry you’re suffering, I had an endo flare up last week that nearly sent me to A&E so you have my full sympathy. You know that feeling when you could destroy the world and everyone in it but then your period starts and you realise that it’s been that all along? 🖤

Warnings: mentions of periods, menstural cycle, PMS, blood, pain. Best friend George, Fred is a sweetheart.

Words: 3.4k

The princess and the period.

You'd had a really terrible day, a horrible, never-ending bore of a day, at least in your mind. It started from the very second you woke up, alone in bed without Fred beside you. You'd slept through your first alarm and had nearly been late for an interview you'd had scheduled for months within the Department of Mysteries. You'd taken the visitors entrance to the Ministry to acquire your required visitors badge and had been held up by some Muggle incident that had rendered London at a near standstill.

The interview, thankfully, had gone well but you couldn't help but fixate on the discomfort you felt in yourself the entire time. Your clothes felt uncomfortable and restrictive and you felt bloated to the point that it was showing through your clothes.

You'd had plans to meet with Arthur after your interview for a cuppa and a catch-up at the small cafeteria whilst he took his break, something you'd been looking forward to all week. You made your way back down to Level two where the department of magical law enforcement was and walked through the mini atrium until you located the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office, only to be informed by Perkins that Arthur was running a tad late, caught up with something that required his immediate attention. Though this was far from unfamiliar, your temper had flared and you had barely managed to contain it, choosing instead to silently seethe as you waited in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs near the main desk. You weren't mad at Arthur by any means, you don't think you'd even been mad at him, but having to stay in uncomfortable clothing and wait when you were already having a bad day was just irritating you further and further as time dragged on, not helped by the incessant ticking from the muggle cuckoo clock on the wall that was driving you mad.

Arthur finally emerged twenty minutes later, apologising profusely as he grabbed his coat and ushered you back into the lift, a bright smile on his face as he began asking you about how your interview went and how his son was. You'd spent a nice half an hour together having a cup of tea and a freshly made slice of cake, something he was keeping a secret from Molly, but as you parted and made your way out of the Ministry to travel home, your mood had almost immediately soured again.

The street was still busier than usual, the noise of people shouting and car horns honking were essentially non stop and you couldn't wait to get home and relax away from the chaos. You had to stop by the shop on the way home for some ingredients for dinner that night and found upon entering the shop that they were completely out of what you needed. You huffed out a breath, feeling yourself getting worked up again and tried desperately to think of alternative ideas to work with what you already had at home but your mind was foggy and unable to concentrate, coming up with nothing. You felt like crying, stood in the middle of a crowed aisle in the muggle supermarket, feeling utterly pathetic. You cursed under your breath and moved away from the aisle towards the exit when you passed the small bakery counter, the sight alone of the small chocolate fudge cake on display enough to make you pause. Without hesitation you bought the cake and walked straight to the checkout, feeling defeat at not getting what was needed for dinner but at the same time, feeling a little victory at acquiring the chocolate cake you were so looking forward to.

You were exhausted by the time you opened the door to the apartment, cursing Fred in your mind for placing the anti-apparition jinx upon the store and the flat above and for not fixing the floo function on the fireplace which had forced you to manually travel into central London and back and then walk up four flights of stairs in your business heels. You were in a foul mood, tired and ready to snap from the day filled with complications and irritations.

You walked into the kitchen to place the cake on the side after kicking off your heels and saw a load of dirty pots piled up in the sink and a mess made on nearly every surface of the countertop, clearly from one of the twins on their lunch break.

You let out an aggrieved groan and slammed down the bag containing the cake on the small kitchen table, huffing and cursing under your breath as you chucked down your wand and walked immediately into the bedroom in a huff.

You rolled your eyes seeing the wardrobe doors open and the bed covers strewn everywhere from your rush this morning and groaned again, now in disdain for your own actions. You walked off once again, now annoyed at yourself and stepped into the thankfully rather tidy bathroom. You started the shower, wanting to wash the entire day away and get out of your uncomfortable clothes immediately which you happily threw onto the bathroom floor without a single care.

The shower helped, feeling a little cleansed by the water and familiar scents of your shower gel, though it didn't remove your bad mood entirely; thoughts of the messy kitchen and lack of dinner ingredients were still playing on your mind only winding you up more. You stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a big fluffy towel and walked into the bedroom to put your comfy clothes on, a big T-shirt that used to belong to Fred and your black joggers, aiming for ultimate comfort. You hadn't heard from George or Fred today except for the nice note they'd left on the fridge door wishing you luck for your interview, though it wasn't unusual, the shop was always busy.

You walked to the kitchen, completely ignoring the mess and pits that were not yours to clean and made yourself a cup of tea, almost crying as you looked at the slither of milk left in the fridge. It was enough for one cup of tea but nothing more and you cursed yourself again for not thinking of grabbing milk whilst you were at the shop.

You sat down in the living room with your cup of tea, wet hair thrown up in a lazy bun and had just pulled open the book you were currently reading when Fred burst through the apartment door.

"Ooh there's my princess, how did your interview go?" He says loudly, bombarding you instantly with a kiss to the head and throwing himself down onto the sofa beside you. You closed your eyes in annoyance, just wanting to relax and on the cusp of being able to before he interrupted.

"It was fine," you replied with a shrug, really not feeling up to explaining your day just now. "They said I'd receive an owl by the end of the week."

"Know you'll get it princess, always have been the smart one," he says, apparently thinking nothing of your rather clipped reply.

"Anyway, we're taking you to dinner tonight to celebrate," he says in a sing-song manner, stretching out on the sofa to put his feet up on the coffee table.

"But I haven't gotten the job," you countered, placing down your book, casting one last sad glance at the cover.

"Yet," he replies, stretching out and pulling open his tie just a fraction, eyes closed with a smirk tugging at his lips.

Any other day you'd have jumped at the chance to go out for a meal with your loved ones but upon looking at your comfy yet completely inappropriate outfit to go out in, your face fell. You'd have to put actual clothes back on, do your hair again and reapply your makeup that you'd just scrubbed off in the shower. You couldn't be bothered, at all. You wanted to sit and read with your cup of tea, switch off your brain and eat your weight in chocolate cake. But then you remembered that you had no solid idea or complete ingredient list for any viable meal and maybe going out would be the only way of eating that night.

You felt another wave of annoyance come over you as you considered having to get all done up again. Couldn't they have warned you? Left a note or something so that you didn't shower the minute you got in? You knew you were diverting into unreasonable territory as they were just trying to do something nice but you couldn't help it, you'd rather vomit slugs than have to get ready all over again and out of your comfort clothes.

"Anyway, best get back or George'll curse my eyebrows off, 7pm gorgeous, wear something sexy," he says, straightening his toe as he wiggles his eyebrows at you before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, "proud of you sweetheart." And then he's gone and you're left reeling.

Wear something sexy? Who the bloody hell was he to request that? Your boyfriend of years, but still.

You looked down at your outfit again and felt a ridiculous but prominent sense of loss, wanting to stay bundled up forever. You check the clock on the wall and feel aggravated once again as you see that it's nearly 5:50pm and you'd have to start getting ready. You begrudgingly dragged yourself into the bedroom and sat at your little table, staring into the mirror and felt no motivation or desire to get ready, looking at the drawers in front of you but not actually wanting to open them.

That's how George found you a little before 7 as he slipped away from the shop, seeing you sitting at your makeup table in tears. He rushed in as soon as he saw your tears and crouched down to try and comfort you, eagerly listening though it must have been hard for him as the crying was affecting your voice and all that came out were a few unintelligible whines.

"I just don't want to," you say with a hiccup, wiping away your fear from your cheek. You didn't think it would actually get this bad but your curls hadn't gone right, the hairbrush you found was not your favourite and sometimes pulled your hair a little as it brushed through and nothing at all would make you look sexy tonight with your bloating. You didn't want to wear uncomfortable heels again, nor walk anywhere in them and by the time you'd gotten to take a sip of your tea, it was cold.

"Shh, it's alright," George says soothingly trying to calm you. He placed his hand on your shoulder but quickly removed it as he saw your little glance at it. It wasn't that you didn't want to be touched per se, but his touch very heavy on your already uncomfortable body. "We don't have to go, it was only an idea."

You sniffled miserably and looked at your best friend, wiping away the tears. "But we don't have anything for tea, they didn't have any-."

"Then we'll order in, get something delivered or we'll nip out and bring something back," he says, not quite interrupting you but just enough to make you stop spiralling. You nodded meekly, feeling utterly pathetic again. "Right, I'll go tell Fred we're staying in, then we'll close up and order something okay? Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?"

You'd seen his eyes flicker to your still full mug and frown as he entered, figuring it was something that had set you off. You shook your head, already feeling like he'd done too much for you.

"Okay, we'll be back as soon as we can," he squeezes your shoulder and walks out.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, makeup sparingly applied but messed up thanks to your tears and your hair curled but not how you wanted it and sighed, feeling overwhelmed with guilt at shooting down your boyfriend and his brother. They'd only tried to do something nice and you'd completely spoiled it, too selfish and caught up in your own feelings that you'd been unreasonable and unkind. You considered wiping the makeup off your face but thought better of it but you reach for a big scrunchie and tie your hair back into a high ponytail, making you feel a little better.

You threw back on your comfy clothes and trudged into the kitchen, retrieving your wand to cast a few spells that had the kitchen cleared in no time. You poured away your cold tea and put the kettle back on, still seeking the comfort as you had before.

The twins closed up the shop in record time and Fred pulled you into the bedroom with him as he undressed, slipping out of his suit and into his own loungewear.

"Princess you should have said," he says gently, reaching for you, his hand cradling your face as he looks into your eyes, "I didn't mean to pressure you."

"No it's not you, I've just been off all day, everything's irritating me and I just want to switch off," you explained, hearing the remorse in your voice.

"Then relax you shall," he says with a smirk, "kiss first though?" His cheeky smile extends to his eyes and you catch his gaze flicker at your lips. You eagerly reach up on your tiptoes to place a sweet kiss onto his lips and you pull away smiling, feeling like it's the first time you'd properly smiled all day.

George ordered food for you all before hopping in the shower and arrived back in the living room wearing his comfiest pyjamas, pulling you into him for a hug as Fred fired up your favourite muggle movie on the TV, also joining you on the large sofa.

It was pitch black when you woke up, your eyes struggling to focus as you came around, confused as to what had woken you up. You could hear Fred breathing deeply and evenly, sound asleep. You looked at the little alarm clock beside the bed, lifting your head up from the place between the pillow and Fred's shoulder where your head rested and saw that it was 2:34am. As your consciousness begins to clear, you frown, feeling a soreness in your abdomen that you couldn't place, feeling as if you needed the toilet but without the urge to go.

You extracted yourself from your boyfriend's side, which never proved to be an easy feat, and walked to the bathroom, dragging your tired body along. You turned on the light and quickly shut the door to stop the light from disturbing your sleeping boyfriend and sat down on the toilet, turning the tap on out of habit. You pulled down your sleep shorts and underwear and immediately understood why you had an ache in your stomach, and why you'd been out of sorts all day.

Your period.

Every month without fail, the moment you discover your period had started, the pain heightens at least ten notches. You winced as you wiped, kicking off your underwear and shorts that were soiled and dragged yourself into the shower. For the second time, you sighed as you entered the shower, your body screaming at you out of exhaustion as you rinsed yourself off. You grabbed a towel and raced into the bedroom to grab a pair of panties from the dresser and ran back into the bathroom to sort your pad out. You then slipped on some new pyjamas and dragged yourself back to the bed, illuminating your wand to check that nothing had gotten onto the sheets, or worse on your boyfriend sleeping beside you. Luckily, it hadn't.

You suddenly didn't feel tired anymore, body wired from your lukewarm shower. You walked to the kitchen, padding through the flat on barefoot and flicked the kettle on, searching through the cupboard above for a jar of hot chocolate you kept in.

You grabbed your hot drink and flicked on a lamp before you pulled a black cushion from the side of the sofa to sit on, not wanting anymore accidents to happen. You didn't turn on the TV right away but instead chose to sit in the partially illuminated room and try and wind down. You couldn't get comfy at all, wiggling your hips to try and ease the ache between them, feeling like your lower abdomen was being constricted from the inside, shooting pains going down your leg and an uncomfortable pressure in your bum. You could sob with the pain, wanting to curl up in a ball and cry but you couldn't, I'm too much pain to even try and move, your entire energy being consumed by simply existing right now.

Your periods had always been bad, starting just before your third year at Hogwarts and though through time they had evened out a little, they were still unpredictable at best and monstrous at worst. You shifted your hips again, trying to relieve the tension you felt and groaned quietly, wishing that you'd filled up your hot water bottle before sitting down.

Medicine in the wizarding world was spectacularly different from the muggle word though a little less advanced as the wizarding community came with added complications such as diseases and ailments that muggles would never know existed. Witches and Wizards often didn't react well to normal muggle remedies nor pharmaceuticals, something you'd learned at Hogwarts from Madame Pomfrey, something about the magical ability burning through modern pharmaceuticals at a rapid rate, rendering them ineffective.

You placed your mug on your stomach to try and gain some heat from it and rested your head back on the sofa, breathing deeply and trying to calm yourself so that you could go back to bed. Feeling yourself getting sleepy, you placed down your mug and pulled a soft blanket over you, trying to get comfy as you settled into the soft material of the plush sofa.

"Princess?" You heard a quiet voice call out, your eyes on the verge of closing. You opened them just a little, sensing Fred's presence behind you and you twisted in position to look at him, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through your groan at the motion.

"What are you doing out here? George snoring too loud again?" You smiled appreciatively for the joke and reached out for him with grabby hands, needing some comfort. He wordlessly slipped in beside you on the sofa and immediately wrapped you around him, blankets and all as he kept you bundled up. You reached for his large hand, feeling the absurd heat he always radiated under your fingers and placed his hand onto your tummy. The heat from his hand spread over your skin instantly and you could feel it penetrating deeper and deeper, soothing your pain.

"That time?" He asks delicately and you nod into his chest, your eyes still heavy as you breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of Fred. "Want your water bottle?" You paused, considering it but slowly shook you head.

"Not right now, got you," you mumbled into his chest, his warmth and presence soothing you further into sleep. You felt him chuckle, chest rumbling with the vibration and he reach down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"Out of ten?" He asks, keeping his hand placed delicately on your belly.

"Eight at least," you groan, your eyes closing as your toes twitch out of the intensity of the pain.

"Oookay, what can I do?" He asks, clearly a little freaked out by the high level of pain you admitted, knowing that it really must have been bad as you always had a high pain threshold.

"Just sit with me," you say, feeling depleted.

"Wanna go to bed or are you happy here?" He says after a few minutes. The heat from his hand has begun to feel redundant, your skin now the same temperature as his.

"Water bottle first?" You asked innocently, hopeful that he'd accommodate you. He presses another kiss to your head and tells you he'll bring it in before shoo'ing you into the bedroom where you sink down into the soft sheets, finally feeling comforted enough to close your eyes.

[sea-you-in-paradise]

a o t   m e n   x   h e a d a c h e   r i d d e n   s / o

summary - how the aot men make their s/o feel better when they have a headache :(

word count - 643

setting - any (canonverse, modern au, etc)

features - armin, connie, eren, jean, levi, & reiner

genderneutral!reader

warnings - none

a r m i n

tries to keep you entertained. something he hates about headaches is how they always seem to derail your entire day, so when you’re not sleeping, he does his best to make you feel like you’ve accomplished a little something. this is mainly by reading to you in a very quiet voice in a very dark room. he just wants to distract you from the pain and make your day feel a little bit more useful :)) he will also make you drink a shit ton of water, which can be both annoying and effective, but he’s just trying to help and he’ll do whatever else you want as well!

c o n n i e

waits on you hand and foot. frankly, connie has no idea how to help, when he gets headaches, it’s usually because of an injury and he just whines about it until it goes away, but he will do literally anything you ask to make you feel better. he probably asks you a lot how you are feeling or if something is working (he probably asks at inconvenient times, like it might have worked if you had been quiet ;-;) he asks for jean’s advice for sure. he tries to whisper, but his whisper is so loud. you can really tell he’s doing his best though, and 3/5 times he does something super helpful thanks to your instruction!

e r e n

leaves you alone. unlike connie, eren does know how to help (at least he thinks he does) and that is by not interacting with you. you tell this man you have a headache and he’s like:

it’s not that he’s trying to avoid you, he just figures that there is no better treatment than silence and solitude. he will definitely stay if you want him to, assuming you just want to lay next to him. other than that, he doesn’t really know what to do. if you ask him for a massage, he’d probably be like “am i getting one too??”

j e a n

provides the essential relief package. need to get rid of tension? he’s there to give you a massage or draw you a hot bath (and you better believe he’ll make it a fancy one, he’s got bath salts for you bb). feeling warm already? he’s there with a cool cloth to dab your forehead. whether you want a cuddle buddy or something to eat that’s easy to chew, you better believe jean is on the case. can’t articulate what you need? he boils it down to basics and still manages to help. this man is so whipped, he would punch mikasa if it meant making you feel better. 

l e v i

makes tea. he literally doesn’t know what else to do! though he wouldn’t admit it, levi feels uncharacteristically terrible when you have a headache, like he’s completely useless in the situation. what good is he if he can’t even make his partner feel better when their own body is betraying them? so, he would make you tea, specifically chamomile to help with inflammation and make you sleepy (regardless of your fondness of chamomile), and he would sit in the same room with you silently in case you need anything else. 

r e i n e r

he gets headaches a lot too because he doesn’t sleep well, so he’s definitely good in this situation all around, but his strongest asset is his scalp massages. where he learned his technique, the world may never know, but this man carries the cure in his bare hands. he’ll let you rest in his arms in bed while his fingers gently draw circles over your head, somehow making the pain more manageable. it’s always a very tender moment and you feel better in half the time you usually do.

[munsonsreputation]

21 (already under)

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [3.2K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, lovers to strangers, mentions of underage drinking, crying (mentions of breakup), isolation, brief talk of anxiety, cursing, angst...ambiguous ending (maybe part 2)

summary: it's eddie's 21st birthday and though you two have been broken up for 2 years, you can't help but wonder if you should call him up and wish him a happy birthday. but to your surprise, it seems he has already beaten you to it.

Pacing back and forth in the living room of your apartment isn’t ideally how you imagined to be spending your Saturday night, but in hindsight, these days you practically spent the entire day confined to the four walls.

Your days used to be filled with stops at the trailer park to visit your favorite metal head and nights spent at the Hideout being his biggest fan in the crowd. But all of that, including him was now gone in the rearview for quite some time.

So much time had passed, but at the same time it felt like it was just yesterday where you and him went your separate ways, living two completely different lives in the same small town where you did your best to avoid each other.

But how could you avoid him without running into his friends or stumbling into Uncle Wayne at the grocery store from time to time?

All of it was just fucking impossible, and a huge chunk of you wanted to pack your things up and move away, but you knew his ghost would follow you everywhere no matter where you were in the world.

Even tonight, in the confines of your apartment, you couldn’t avoid him.

It was his twenty-first birthday today. The big 2-1 that marked the age where he could finally drink legally without facing any repercussions from Hopper. A coming of age that was supposed to be celebrated with you next to him at the Hideout.

You two had planned it out years ago when you were just seniors hanging out at Lover’s Lake with your hands intertwined and the sun setting down on the both of you.

“Hopper is gonna lose his shit if you get busted for underage drinking again.” You chided quietly, feeling him pull one of his hands away from your waist to reach over and grab an ice cold beer from the small cooler he packed.

He rolled his eyes playfully, taking a swig of the bitter before holding it out for you.

“He did the same thing when he was our age…maybe even a little worse! He’s got to cut me some slack.”

“In three years, you’ll be 21, then that’s when he’ll cut you some.”

Eddie scoffed, slinging his arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to him as you squealed, trying not to spill the beer all over the both of you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you got comfortable, taking a sip of the drink that was definitely not your choice of beverage on a scorching afternoon, but it would make do for now.

“My 21st is gonna be at the Hideout, obviously.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down the expanse of your arm.

You looked at up him through your lashes, blinking kindly, “Yeah? I just know the groupies are going to have a field day with you.”

He met your eyes followed by a dramatic huff as he shook his head and squeezed your skin lightly, almost in a soft, scolding way.

“Stop that. You know you’re my favorite fan…my one and only groupie.”

You scrunched your face up at him lovingly, puckering your lips and silently asking him to grant you with one of his famous kisses that you would never get tired of — even if it was a little peck.

“Do I still need to RSVP or will the offer still stand?” You mumbled against his lips.

You could feel his smile against your skin, before feeling another kiss come down on them.

“It wouldn’t be a celebration without you there.”

Yet here you were years later anxiously pacing your apartment and contemplating whether you should pick up the phone and at least greet him on his birthday before the clock strike midnight.

Part of you wanted to think that the split between you and Eddie was amicable, but in reality it was something so far from that. You had always thought that maybe Eddie would have seen it coming — that the growing distance and constant fighting was a telltale-sign of a break.

But he didn’t see it at all. In fact, he was completely blindsided.

“Just tell me how to make it better.” Eddie pleaded, holding your face in his hands, attempting to try to change your mind about your decision.

You couldn’t bear to look at him, to see the desperation, heartache, and confusion cluttering his features in the worst kind of way — the way that you couldn’t fix because it was coming from you.

“There’s nothing you can do,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tightly as the salt poured down your cheeks and you forced your face away from his gentle touch.

He pursed his lips together, rubbing a rough hand down his face as the silence ate him up whole, not knowing if he was man enough to go in for a hug or ask you to leave and forget that you two ever existed in a world where you two loved each other.

Because he still loved you, even when you were standing in front of him, breaking his heart into a million pieces that were bound to be shattered all over again if he tried to make any other offers to fix it — fix you two.

Your sobs filled his bedroom, cries that even you couldn’t explain because no matter the distance or stupid fights you and Eddie got into, this was the last thing you wanted to do. Desperately you wanted to see it through, to know that you and him would grow out of the phase together and come out of it stronger, but you knew deep down that this was what you needed.

What your heart needed.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, swiping your fingers over your eyes as you finally opened them, met with the sight of him still crestfallen.

You couldn’t stand to be there any longer, brushing past his figure as you dashed through the trailer and dug for your car keys in your pocket. He didn’t chase after you — you had already left him standing there and he couldn’t bear watching you drive away too.

You weren’t sure what you were sorry for — perhaps everything.

The way it went down.

For not giving him any warning signs.

Leaving him with no closure at all.

If he was taking the heartbreak personally, you wouldn’t blame him because if he had done you the way you did him, you’d be avoiding him, too.

In defense, he avoided you first, ignoring phone calls where you wanted to check up on him and see how he was doing. Instead, you were met with Uncle Wayne’s voice telling you that the boy was busy — busying himself with trying to forget you.

“Who is it?”

You could hear him asking in the background, quickly covered up by his uncle clearing his throat trying to mask his nephew’s voice. It was then that you understood that things would never be the same, that Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you anymore because for him it was like torture.

But sometimes you’d imagine it would be different had you gone a different route with ending things with him. That maybe if you had let him down slowly you two would still be friends, maybe even the potential of getting back together someday.

Late nights since the breakup were spent dreaming up the scenarios where you and Eddie could co-exist—

“How are doing?” You asked honestly, reaching out a steady hand that you rested upon his watching the way his eyes flickered with content.

“Fine. I’m doing really fine.”

But then you wake up, the black and white in your dark bedroom and the empty spot beside you, a reminder that it wasn’t real, and it sure wasn’t forever. That you had left him unexpectedly with a flame without yours…leaving him on fire.

The sound of your landline ringing halted your undying pacing. Your stare burning a hole through the phone that rattled on your coffee table. It was nearly eleven, just an hour left before his birthday would be done and over with.

He was probably at the Hideout celebrating with his band, so it couldn’t possibly be him.

“H-hello?” You answered, kneeling at the table while one hand picked up the phone and the other held your forehead.

“Hey you, how is it going?”

Robin Buckley, the only person in Eddie’s life that still remained in yours, but from a distance. No in person hang outs or daily phone calls, just occasional check in’s to see how you were holding up because she knew that the breakup was still affecting you the way it was doing Eddie.

You sighed, shutting your eyes as your fingers rubbed your temples.

“I—I’m fine…you know, just hanging around. What about you?”

There wasn’t much energy you had left to try to convince her that you were doing something way more interesting than overthinking the night away. Despite you and her not being really close or acquainted, Robin was an expert at one thing, and that was reading between the lines and picking up on things.

She didn’t want to put you on the spot. To tell you that from your voice alone, she could tell you were lying through your teeth. She already knew it was hard enough already and her pointing it out would only make you feel worse.

So she cut to the chase.

“I saw Eddie tonight…at the Hideout for his birthday. Nance and I stopped by to buy him a few drinks and give him his present. He’s wasted. I mean just completely shit faced—”

You took a sharp breath in, squinting your eyes that were about to turn salty all over again.

“Why are you telling me this?”

It came out harsher than you wanted, but really the last thing you wanted to hear about was how Eddie was having such a blast without you there. Part of you wanted to think that he would relocate his birthday celebration, assuming it would bring up too much hurt partying in the place where he planned to do it with you.

There was a hitch in her breathing, probably partly taken aback by your tone, but she worked past that.

“I just thought you should know…”

Her voice teetered on the edge of wanting to say more, to tell you the full story, but she didn’t. She didn’t know if it was her place to tell you everything Eddie had said tonight, how his birthday celebration came to shit the second he got an ounce of tipsy.

“I appreciate it, Robin, but really, I’m—I’m over it, him,” you corrected, “I know he’s having fun.”

You didn’t mean to just hang up without allowing her to speak or say goodbye, but you couldn’t help it. One more second on the line with her and even just another word spoken of his name, then you were sure that you’d end up a crying mess with her consoling you through the phone.

You didn’t want to picture him half drunk happy, chugging down shots without a care in the world for the hangover he’d have the next morning. The way he’d have to wake up without someone taking care of him and holding his hair back as he’d throw up everything in his system. The thought of thinking about who was going to drive him home and get him back to the trailer safely.

It was sickening…the worrying thoughts that still lingered in your head when it came to him. How you shouldn’t even be concerned in the first place because he was an adult and capable of taking care of himself. Yet here you were still worrying, imagining the life you two would be living if you stayed in each other’s lives.

Even two years later this feeling didn’t budge and you were sure that if it kept up, it would be enough confirmation that you had made the biggest mistake of your life — letting your one true love slip through your fingers and now all that he would be was a painful reminder of the love you lost when you were younger.

And you were afraid that how it was going to stay.

You ran your fingers through your hair, giving the ends of them a particularly hard tug out of pure frustration and annoyance. Taking a deep breath, your hands ran down your thighs before you stood up and for the first time tonight you stopped pacing.

Instead, you began flipping the light switches off, ready to turn in for the night and accept the fact that wishing Eddie a happy birthday would do neither of you any good.

Reopening that wound would make it hurt more than it already was. Just because you were hurting and searching for that closure didn’t mean that he owed you that. He didn’t owe you the light of day, not even fifteen seconds of his time on a phone call.

It was already over and it was best you left it that way — to move on and keep trying to forget as everything just kept pulling you under.

You glanced back at your dim living room, fingers ready to pull on the beaded string on the lamp to make the whole place dark before you proceeded to walk towards your bedroom and sulk the night away, being greeted by the love of your life in your dream.

But instead, before the whole place could illuminate black and white, there was a knock at your door. One that pounded hard, almost banging, followed by grumbles on the other side of it.

“A—are you in there? I wanna…wanna talk!”

Another round of loud and noisy knocks and for a second you thought you were in a dream. Pinching your skin to try to wake you up from the horrible nightmare that was tormenting you and your frail little heart. But to no one’s surprise, it was real — more knocking and his garbled talking confirmed it.

Your feet moved quickly against the wooden floors, crossing the boundaries between the living room and entrance where you stood on the other side of the door, fingers moving nimbly to undo the lock and chain before you pulled it open.

There he was in the flesh, leaning up against your doorframe, lazily keeping himself steady. He reeked of alcohol and you weren’t sure if it was merely his deep breathing that pushed the sharp smell of vodka and whisky towards your nostrils — or if he had spilt a drink or two all over himself, but it was clear that he was wasted.

Just as Robin had told you — maybe even more.

You wanted to avoid eye contact, to try to focus your sights on somewhere other than his deep brown orbs that could see right through you, but it was futile. Immediately your eyes met, the stare lingering so intensely, speaking volumes in the most silent and torturous way possible.

Though he was intoxicated, he still knew you like the back of his hand. Could read every emotion that covered your face and even beneath the exterior that you tried to put on. He knew you had been crying.

The swollen skin around your eyes dropping them down and making them look sadder than usual.

The tip of your nose red from the constant sniffles and swipes of tissue.

The frown that remained on your face and the slight quiver of your top lip that indicated you were holding it back all over again.

“W-what are you doing here?” Your voice was small and gravelly, breaking harshly, and though you coughed to try to play it off, he still knew.

Eddie watched you. The way your arms crossed over your chest and you finally had the courage to flicker your sights away from him, looking down at his covered feet instead. Your fingers tips pinching and tightening on your skin awaiting his response.

“I don’t know…t—to say that I’m sorry.”

You pinched your brows together, snapping your head up to look at him, “Sorry? Sorry for what, exactly?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he frowned deep and shook his head like he didn’t even know why he was here standing in front of you.

“Before you left, you said sorry…b-but you didn’t give me a chance to say it.”

You didn’t know what to say, hell you didn’t even know if you had any words left to speak even if there was still so much left unspoken. You stood there, eyes glued to his droopy ones that blinked slowly before he finally leaned off the wood and took a step back further into the hallway.

He was stumbling over his feet, but you didn’t dare take a step forward to help him. Eddie didn’t need you to. He regained his balance with his head down, holding a finger out towards you in a sign for you to wait. To not shut the door and leave him out again.

“Why couldn’t you just…just let me fix it?”

He tumbled over his words, keeping his head low in an effort to not break down here right now, but he couldn’t help but look at you when all he got was silence.

You swallowed, biting your tongue while the tips of your fingers turned white from the harsh pinching, desperate to want to run away and hide even when this was all you wanted for the past two years.

“You didn’t even let me try. Do you know how much it h-hurts?”

The end of his question broke with his voice, a whimper and a crack that let you know that the salt would start pouring any second now. And it was the same for you, his figure now a blurry mess as you croaked and shook your head, still not speaking.

He jabbed his finger into his chest while his face scrunched up, almost turning red with the tears that began to pool in his eyes.

“I…I still love you and you were supposed to be there tonight. I kept hoping you would show up. T-that you didn’t forget—”

Your foot stomped against the floorboards as you finally let up on your arm and brought your hands up to your cheeks to whip the tears away.

“I didn’t forget, Eddie! How the hell could you think I could ever forget?”

Here you two stood yet again, resorting to this…whatever this was.

You didn’t try to shut the door or step back as he finally stepped closer, closing the space between the both of you and just leaving inches. His face was nearly nose to nose with you as you both stood there and breathed in everything.

The regret.

The longing.

The pain.

The loss.

The love that never left.

All of it flooding your senses and screaming at you to say everything that you had been bottling up. To release everything that you had taken with you under the waves of wicked currents in winless fights. That even if the lights were on or off, life without him was black and white, the cruelest kind of way to live because he showed you color that you could never see with anyone else.

And unlike the last time you and Eddie stood in front of each other, this time you didn’t pinch your eyes shut or move away from his hands that clutched your cheek. He didn’t have to be the love of your life inside your head when he was standing right before you.

“I missed you…and I’m sorry.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

a/n: my first pure angst feel kinda fic that i've written! i don't have a part 2 planned for this yet, but maybe i'll write one depending on how i am feeling and what i think the future would look like for reader and eddie!! i love "21" by gracie and this song just screamed eddie vibes...i hope you guys like it!!!

[ghostofskywalker]

May I please request something where the (gn preferably) reader breaks their glasses during a mission so tech makes them a pair of goggles like his?

anon this is actually the cutest idea ever and as someone whose eyesight is terrible without my contacts (i used to wear glasses but not as much anymore) i understand the struggle <3

words: 2,454

summary: when an accident on the marauder leaves you without your glasses for an unknown period of time, tech takes matters into his own hands and makes you a replacement pair of goggles that match his own.

clone troopers masterlist

Seeing Double

“Kriff!” you swore slightly louder than you originally wanted to, but in your defense, this situation warranted it.

“Everything okay?” Hunter’s voice echoed from the device on your wrist, and it was at that point that you realized you had apparently forgotten to mute yourself on the comms, so the entire squad had just heard your outburst.

“Yeah, just that my glasses broke,” you said, trying to find collect the pieces from the dashboard of the Marauder. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue, except for the fact that it was currently nighttime and you needed them to see where you were going.

“Can you still steer the ship?’ Echo’s voice came through the device next. “We’re going to need a pickup soon.”

You weren’t too confident about your abilities at this point, but you also couldn’t let the team down. “It’ll be fine for a little while, but once you get back someone else needs to handle the controls.”

“Alright, as long as you don’t need one of us to go back there now.”

That was the last thing you wanted, because you were still a new member of the team and you definitely didn’t want them to think you weren’t capable. “No, just let me know when and where you need to be picked up from.”

The communication device went silent not long after that, and you were left to sit down in the pilot’s seat and attempt to repair your glasses. The actual lenses themselves seemed to still be intact, but one of the supports that rested behind your ear had come off (due to the fact that they had fallen to the floor and you stepped on the one side before you realized what had happened). But there was one flaw when it came to attempting to appraise the damage, and that was the fact that when they weren’t on your face, you couldn’t see all that well.

You weren’t blind per se (they had let you into the GAR after looking at your eye charts and seeing the glasses you wore every day), but you certainly didn’t see the world in high resolution when you didn’t have the lenses on your face. You had previously considered those tiny clear things that you saw friends put into their eyes, that would completely negate the need for you to wear glasses, but at the same time the idea of putting your fingers too close to your eye was a little bit nerve wracking (you knew the process certainly wasn’t for the faint of heart).

And you hadn’t experienced any issues with your glasses interfering with your work so far, or at least, not until now. Clone Force 99 had accepted you with open arms (well, it had taken a while in the case of one particularly grumpy sniper) when you had been assigned to them. Your technical title was “medic,” although you were also well-versed in mechanics and was qualified enough to repair the ship if necessary. You sometimes wondered if that acceptance had something to do with the fact that one of the members of the squad also wore lenses of some kind on his face, and if was, you were grateful to Tech.

If asked, you would probably cite Tech as your favorite member of the squad, and it wasn’t just because of your shared facial accessory. Even if you didn’t know whether or not his goggles were prescription or he just simply wore them for convenience, the two of you got along fairly well, which was a surprise because you were essentially assigned to them to do some of Tech’s job. But even though others might have seen you as a threat, you and the squad’s resident genius worked well together.

Bringing your focus back to the situation at hand, you realized that there was going to be no way to reattach the arm of your glasses without some kind of bonding agent (due to the place that the material had fractured and split apart when you stepped on it), and you gently pulled them up to your face. They certainly drooped on the side that had no support, but you would be able to see well enough to fly the ship for a few minutes until someone else could take over.

And it was a good thing that you could see at all, because the batch radioed in just a few minutes later, sending you a set of coordinates and telling you to step on it because they had met some hostiles.

Getting in the air was the easy part, but a flying animal that came out of nowhere shocked you to the point where you had to stop short, and your glasses came flying off your head. There was nothing you could do but watch as they clattered down the dashboard of the ship and once again fell and skittered across the floor, so far out of your reach that you knew there was no chance you could recover them before you had to move again. Instead, you would be flying blind (in the literal sense of the expression).

You were sure that the rest of the squad could tell that something was up when they saw the ship arrive at the coordinates, flying slightly tilted and having stopped short before you extended the ramp for them to get in. “Can someone come up here and take the controls?” you called out.

No one answered, but soon footsteps approached the cockpit and you turned around to see Tech walking towards you with his helmet under his arm. You stood up to greet him, but right as you opened your mouth to speak, the sound of transparisteel breaking filled the space, and the two of you looked down in horror as Tech lifted up his boot slightly to reveal your glasses, now completely shattered beyond repair. “Oh my,” he said as he looked at the carnage on the floor. “I deeply apologize, I did not know that was there.”

“It’s okay,” you said, still in some form of shock, but you didn’t want to make Tech feel bad over something he couldn’t control. “It wasn’t your fault, we’ll just need to put in an order with the Republic for some new glasses the next time we reach out to them.”

“That may be quite a while,” Tech responded, having reached down to collect the bent and disfigured remains of the glasses frame off the floor. “I may be able to-”

“Tech,” you cut him off gently, and he looked up at you as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll be able to survive without them for a little while.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up. “In the meantime, you should rest. The assignment was a success and I will fly the ship until we stop for fuel or the next mission objective comes in.”

You just nodded and headed off to the bunks. You knew that sometimes if you went for a while without your glasses it could lead to headaches as your eyes strained to perform their usual function, so you wanted to avoid that as much as you possibly could (especially if you weren’t going to get new ones for a while). And as you drifted off to sleep to the sound of Gonky moving across the ship in the background, you really hoped that you’d be able to contact the Republic soon.

***

As he watched you leave the room, Tech couldn’t help but feel bad. You had assured him that none of this was his fault and that you weren’t angry at him, but he also knew how stressful it was to be living a life without corrective lenses when your eyesight was not that good. He had seen your glasses before and guessed that your level of nearsightedness was similar to his, and he would never want to spend any amount of time without his goggles, let alone an uncertain and extended period of it. He cleaned the small pile of debris off the floor and placed them in a small container once the ship had entered hyperspace, and for a while he just watched the blue streaks pass him by.

And it was as he watched out through the windshield of the ship that he had an idea.

His goggles were a thing of his own creation, and sometimes different parts needed replacing. Because of that, he had began keeping a small box of parts and pieces on the ship, with enough to make at least two other sets (just in case his primary pair was ruined beyond repair). If your prescription was similar to his, you might be able to wear a matching pair of goggles for a while, or at least until they could contact the Republic and order new glasses for you.

Right as he got up from the pilot’s seat, Hunter stepped into the cockpit. “Oh good, I was just about to call for you,” Tech said. “Can you watch the ship for a little while? I have something urgent to attend to.”

Hunter just nodded, and Tech was thankful that his brother didn’t ask too many questions so he couldn’t be slowed down. He wanted to have them ready for you by the time he next saw you, this way you didn’t have to go too long without any kind of visual aid.

He found the box of parts under his bunk, and after checking to make sure you were asleep in yours, he got to work, pulling the curtain around his cot to keep some privacy about what he was doing.

The shattered pieces of your original lenses turned out to be of some use to him, because he was able to calibrate the goggles to perfectly match your needs. It was much easier than he originally thought it might be, and by the time he could hear movement from outside his bunk, he was just putting the finishing touches on the goggles.

Wondering whether it was you or Wrecker that had woken up, he poked his head out to see you yawn and stretch. Quietly calling your name as to not startle you, Tech got out of bed and beckoned at you to follow him. “Is everything okay?” you asked, blinking as a brighter part of the ship came into view, and Tech quickly moved the hand that was holding the goggles behind his back so you couldn’t see what they were.

“I still feel terrible about your glasses,” he said. You opened your mouth (no doubt to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault), but he held up one of his hands to stop you and the other with the pair of newly constructed goggles in it. “And since I know the repercussions of spending extended periods of time without them, I made you something. I apologize if it is not a style you like, but I only had the materials to reconstruct my goggles and I figured it was better than nothing.”

You were silent as you took the goggles from his outstretched hand, but from the smile on your face, Tech knew that you weren’t spurning his gift. “Thank you,” you eventually said as you placed them on your face. “I love them.”

“I was able to use my scanner to match and calibrate this pair to the same level of magnification as your glasses,” he said.

You nodded, looking around the ship. “Thank you so much Tech. I really can’t believe you would do something like this, I’m so grateful.”

Tech went to respond, but you pulled him into a hug before he could get any words out. “You are very welcome,” he eventually managed to say.

“If you ever need anything from me,” you said. “Please don’t hesitate-”

He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “I don’t want you to think that you are somehow in debt to me,” he said. “I did this because I wanted to help you, not because I wanted to gain something.”

For a fleeting moment, you looked like you were going to cry, and Tech’s eyes widened as you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek, your goggles knocking slightly against his. “I know,” you said. “But still, I want to thank you somehow. Maybe if we can get away from your brothers, I can take you out to dinner the next time we’re on Coruscant?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Those words were accompanied by a surprised (and hopeful) expression. He had of course taken you in as a member of the team, but it had recently been more apparent to him that how he felt about you was different than how he felt towards other people. He had always hoped that you felt the same way, but was never sure how to broach the topic.

“Yes,” you said, a smile on your face. “Are you accepting?”

“Yes.”

Tech stared at you for a moment, and you stared right back. He started to lean in, and you mirrored his movements. He was just finishing up calculations on how to best kiss you without bumping either set of goggles when he heard footsteps approaching, and he instinctively pulled back.

You apparently had the same idea, and the two of you turned in shock to stare at Hunter, who had just stepped out of the cockpit and had an exasperated look on his face. Whatever hope Tech had of keeping this new relationship development a secret was now completely dead, because with Hunter’s enhanced hearing he must have been able to hear everything before this moment.

And with the two of you wearing both matching expressions and goggles, it must have been a sight to behold for his brother. Hunter opened his mouth, but then closed it before taking a breath. “I’m going to take a nap,” is what he eventually settled on. “Can you two watch the cockpit?”

Tech was halfway through a confirmation of Hunter’s request before his brother had walked completely past them to disappear in the direction of the bunks, and right as he disappeared you quickly leaned in to place a soft (and far too quick, in his opinion) kiss on Tech’s lips.

The cockpit offered a better view anyway, and although it wasn’t completely shielded from his brothers, it was much more private than just standing in the middle of the ship. They didn’t have a lot of time before everyone else woke up and their little secret spread like wildfire through the ship, and Tech wanted to make the most of the peace and quiet.

- the end -

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[actiniumwrites]

Hi, saw that your requests were open. Would you be open to writing headcanons for how the sumeru's s/o would comfort them?

*inserts yummy food as payment *

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

synopsis: comforting the sumeru cast

characters: tighnari, cyno, dehya, alhaitham, kaveh

warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, fluff, pinch of angst, exhaustion, injuries, mentions of alcohol, self doubt, and overworking

notes: thank you for the yummy food, anon 😋 hope you enjoy this! sidenote: i left dottore out because, well, i think that’s obvious. also i wrote this so long ago like i completely forgot i even finished it 😭

tighnari:

tighnari is very independent and likes to do things on his own if he can, so he very rarely needs comfort

but when he gets stressed, it’s BAD

works all day out in the forest and late into the night on his studies to keep his mind off things, but usually ends up making it worse

has a hard time sleeping and just gets so exhausted :(

one night you find him up and just hug him silently from behind

in times like these, he just melts and gives into the comfort, surrendering to dependency

loves it when you just take care of him and can finally rest

like helping him change into a more comfortable set of clothes, playing with his hair until he falls asleep, and making him his favorite meals

and it’s difficult, but you always find a way to convince him to take a day off of work

you even help him with his work since you guys frequently work together in the forest

he’s super appreciative too, thanking you left and right for catching him before he falls into a bad mental space

and you promise that, no matter what, you’ll always be there for him

cyno:

cyno is like tighnari in the sense that he rarely finds himself in need of comfort

until one day, he gets injured badly during a fight while out investigating some criminals in the desert

of course, he took them out with ease, but somehow managed to get a few deep scratches that were particularly painful

he’s definitely the type to try to hide that he needs help

but you always see right through him

he acts like he hates it, but he really does love it when you help him sit down and clean up his wounds

and the fact that you’re so worried about him helps take his mind off the throbbing pain from his injuries

whispering little things like “it’s okay,” and “you’re okay,” even though he is okay because no matter what, he would never let himself die or get severely injured as long as he’s with you

but on the days when he does get scratched up like this, he can’t help but exaggerate a little bit and relish within your love for him

and when he does truly get upset about the fact that he has to take a few days off from work, he can’t help but feel at peace with the fact that you’ll be by his side the entire time

dehya:

dehya completely hides her feelings when she needs comforting, at least, most of the time

usually it comes out as some form of anger, directed at a person who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time

but when it happens, you’re by her side quickly. and if you’re not, everyone knows to go get you, the one person who always seems to quell her worries and calm her emotions no matter what

truly like water and fire

she loves it when you put your hand in hers as it gives her a sense of familiarity and home

or the way you whisper sweet nothings in her ear and bring her to a calm place where the wind blows gently in her hair and all she can focus on is you

getting a nice meal together? her favorite thing in the whole world

she isn’t a fan of talking about her feelings, but something about just sitting down in her favorite tavern with her favorite person enjoying her favorite food and drinks as she lets everything out is incredibly heart warming and satisfying

seeing the way you never judge her for how she feels or what she’s thinking will never fail to make her fall in love with you all over again

alhaitham:

it’s simple, alhaitham doesn’t need comfort

at least, that’s what he tells himself

but everyone as their bad days, even him. does he show it? of course not

you’d have to be pretty damn lucky to witness alhaitham, the most stoic and apathetic person in all of teyvat, let his emotions out

he’s definitely the type of person to bottle it all up for months on end until it all explodes one day

one little thing goes wrong: someone says the wrong thing, hands him the wrong paper, he forgets his keys…and he blows up like a firework

but only in private. he’d never let anyone see that type of thing happen, not even you, his lover

until one day, you do

he fumes with anger, the type of person to throw everything off their desk when they’re pissed off

you walk in and he just collapses into his chair, even more upset that you even had to witness any of that

you just drag him out of his office with a gentle hand in his rough one and guide him to your shared bed where you have him lie down

he enjoys sleeping with you, arms around your waist with you against his abdomen in a nice dark and cold room

but you clean up his mess and join him in bed

and you never say a word about any of it, just as he prefers it

alhaitham understands his emotions, so he doesn’t need you to talk him through it

resting with you is enough time for him to recharge, reflect on his emotions, and relax with perhaps the only person he’s ever loved next to him

kaveh:

he frequently needs comforting from you, and it’s pretty obvious why

there’s no specific situations like the others. kaveh is just generally an emotional and sensitive guy who needs a little more support

it’s not a bad thing, and you make sure he always knows that

he’s open about his struggles with you and it’s usually in the form of laying in each others’ arms while you two talk things out

it even helps him to avoid the alcohol, something he’s eternally grateful for

he loves it when you speak softly or even in a whisper, it’s very calming to him and makes him not feel like he has to be loud to get people to understand him

needs to be reminded he’s loved by you or else he begins to doubt himself

he really enjoys when you put your hands in his hair and massage his head for him. it allows him to close his eyes and find a moment of peace

if you’re in public and he starts to feel uncomfortable, holding his hand seems to calm him down immensely

overall just needs a bit of reassurance and some physical contact and he feels safe again <3

[dcartcorner]

I.. I maybe sort of wrote another thing. I have no excuses. I just think they're neat and care them very much. (Standard disclaimer: I am Not A Writer and yes it's probably out of character).

A Quiet Reflection Characters: Simon Fairchild, Peter Lukas Ship: FoggySkies Warnings: none

Peter Lukas did not know how long he had been in a relationship with Simon Fairchild. Which, he thought, was an entirely reasonable thing to not know - as flighty as the avatar of the Vast was. Here one moment and gone the next. Simon’s seeming inability to stay in one place for more than a few days suited Peter just fine. It made things… easier, between them. Peter liked it. Even so, the thought nagged at him as he stared at Simon’s back - how long had it been? He couldn’t remember the moment in which they’d both decided to be anything more than what they were. It had just… happened.

Sitting in the captain’s cabin aboard the Tundra, he leaned back in his chair and watched silently as Simon mixed paint on his palette. The evening was quiet, the sun starting to set, that time of day where the world seemed to be dropping away, leaving them completely and utterly alone.

Despite not knowing when they’d become what they were now, Peter could, at the very least, say how they met, and that certainly had to count for something.

It had been one of those stuffy events James Wright insisted on holding for God only knew what reason - not a fundraiser for the Institute, this was for… people like them. To keep tabs on things, Peter supposed. Whatever the case, James had made a bet. He thought Peter wouldn’t show up. He’d been so certain. Arrogant bastard. So Peter had attended, determined to win the petty wager just to spite James. He had greeted Wright with a smile of bared teeth, and Wright had looked far too smug for Peter’s liking.

A movement drew Peter’s attention back to the present. Simon reached up to the top of the canvas, a dash of pale blue in the grey of the piece. Peter watched him, the way he lifted himself onto his toes, the stretch of his arm, the little line of skin revealed by the pull of the shirt. The way that simple stroke of paint seemed to make everything around it more real than even the skies outside. 

Gold light spilled in from the windows, casting shadows across the cabin floor and illuminating the large canvas. The blasted thing took the entire wall, nearly. How Simon had managed to get it into the captain’s cabin without Peter noticing was, itself, another mystery. But it was there, now. The canvas, paints, a cloth tarp for the floor. A splash of colour in the otherwise monochrome world. Another thing that just seemed to… happen. Just like other, little objects around the place. The books under the table, the drawer in the dresser with a few articles of Simon’s clothes, a decorative ship in a bottle on the desk behind him, the second mug in the cupboard next to a small bag of Simon’s favourite coffee. First they weren’t there, then they were, and Peter hadn’t noticed.

He turned his mind back to their meeting. There had to be a moment, he thought, when the idea of Simon having trinkets aboard the Tundra became an idea that Peter was not entirely opposed to.

It had been well-attended, every corner occupied with observing eyes and conspiratorial whispers, those false smiles and feigned platitudes that gave Peter a headache. He stayed as long as he needed to win the bet, and once James had introduced him to just about everyone - more than Peter could stomach - Peter left. He knew the building well. His family owned it. He knew the quickest way to the nearest, lonely balcony, and so he had slipped out and left James to his little games. 

Peter hadn’t expected anyone else to be there, but,one foot on the grey stone of the balcony, he froze. Someone was there, looking over a stretch of park that was dark and empty at that time of night, with the city lights on the other side seeming so far away. 

The other man half-turned his head to look at him, and Peter vanished. He stood there, watching, angry that his safe haven had been intruded on - wishing the other man would just go away.  

“Peter, isn’t it?” the other man suddenly said, voice seeming far away through the fog. 

Another movement in the present, another pull away from the memory. Simon took a step back, calves hitting the low table behind him, tilting his head to the side to inspect his work. Unhappy with the view, he stepped up onto that table and backed away further. There he paused for a long moment, then, seeming to come to a decision, he stepped down from the table and went to the wooden stool set up next to the canvas, picked up a new brush, and returned to his work. 

Something fond twisted up in Peter’s chest as he looked away, down into his coffee mug. The more things change, he thought.

He hadn’t replied, back then. He hadn’t wanted to. He hadn’t wanted that man to be there. He wanted to be alone.  

But then the man went on, oblivious to Peter’s discomfort, “Always a pleasure to meet a Lukas.” He turned his attention back to the view ahead of them and was quiet a long time before going on, “It is quite unbearable, isn’t it. All that hubbub back there. Can’t stand the drama, myself. Still, I said to myself, ‘Simon,’ I said, ‘you’re going to put on a smile, and you’re going to go to this function. It’s important you show your face every now and again.’” The man chuckled, then sighed, then leaned against the railing. 

Simon. Simon Fairchild, must be, Peter thought. He’d only heard the stories James told of him, and through the family business. He knew of the Fairchilds in passing, in signed documents, in the board of trustees, in the way that any of those that served the powers knew of each other. But he had never met him, hadn’t seen him amongst the crowds inside. 

“I suppose it wasn’t all that important, in the end. Nothing ever is,” Fairchild said. He sounded content. A short pause. “It’s nice out here, isn’t it? You feel like you can breathe properly. And such a view as well! Absolutely marvelous.”

Peter made a decision that he wasn’t sure was entirely his own, and stepped back into the world, turning his gaze from Fairchild’s back out to the city lights. So… isolated. They were over there, and he was here, and it brought him that wonderful uneasiness that filled him with such perfect comfort.

“What are you doing here?” He wasn’t sure why he asked. It had just… happened.

Fairchild glanced over his shoulder again and smiled. “Cosmically speaking? What are any of us doing here?” he replied cheerfully. “If you mean here on the balcony, well, that’s because I needed the space. It gets very… uncomfortable, events like this. You know the feeling. Like the ceiling is slowly lowering down on you, and the walls are squeezing everyone closer together, and no matter where you look there are people trying to get into your pockets. Awfully too close to Buried territory for my liking. I needed the fresh air.” He waved his hand to the sky above. “So I came here.”

Peter understood. Surprisingly well, he understood. He didn’t know how James could stand it, didn’t know how other people enjoyed it. Didn’t want to know how. 

“I would ask the same of you,” Fairchild said, turning to face Peter, back against the railing. “But I suspect I know the answer. You know I must say, you’re different from how I imagined the prized son of the Lukas family.”

“Different how?” Peter asked. 

Fairchild shrugged. “Taller,” he supplied. In a swift movement he lifted himself up to sit on the rail. Light as a feather, Peter thought. Looked like a breeze would blow him away. 

Which Peter suspected Simon Fairchild would actually quite enjoy, based on the stories. Based on the one he served. 

Fairchild looked at Peter over the rim of his glasses. For a moment, Peter saw a flash of blue - the colour of the sky, and suddenly the balcony beneath his feet fell away, and he felt as if he was falling. And then, as Fairchild looked away, the ground returned in an instant, and he felt his breath punched out of him. “Sorry,” Fairchild said, knocking his glasses up his nose with a knuckle, hiding his eyes. “Incredibly careless of me. You know, now that I think about it, I suppose it makes perfect sense why neither of us are comfortable. In there, I mean. The Mother of Puppets, the Beholding, I Do Not Know You, Too Close I Cannot Breathe… this is more to their liking, isn’t it? The Lonely and the Vast, however…” A smile up to the sky as Fairchild tilted his head back to look up. “You’d prefer to be alone, and I… I just can’t bring myself to see the point of any of this. And so here we are, escaping.” He looked back to Peter from behind dark glass. “Though I suppose I am impeding your own escape.”

“Yes, you are,” Peter hesitantly agreed.

Fairchild huffed - a sound that Peter thought must have been an amused laugh. “Indeed!” he said. “Terribly sorry about that. Far be it from me to keep you from your retreat, Captain.” The smile that he gave Peter was impish. “Until we meet again, I suppose!”

With that, he leaned backwards and fell from the railing.

Peter couldn’t help the jolt of panic. He shouldn’t have cared - and he didn’t care, not particularly - only, it was not something one saw everyday now, was it? He stumbled to the railing, grabbing hold of it as he looked over the edge, searching the ground below. He knew what he would see before his eyes adjusted to the dark.

There was nothing.

“Of course,” the voice suddenly said from behind him. For the second time, he started, and turned to face Fairchild. The man stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, and was regarding Peter with a tilt of his head. It put Peter in mind of a bird - an eagle that had spotted a fish swimming through the grey waters beneath it. “I am dreadfully curious. How on earth did Jonah manage to summon the elusive Captain Peter Lukas to his little get-together? I admit, when I heard you would be in attendance, I thought to myself, my my, now there’s something you don’t see everyday.” A chuckle. “Quite truthfully, I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Peter’s back teeth ground together as he set his shoulders back. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I happen to take great enjoyment in proving James wrong, and he thought I wouldn’t come.”

“So here you are,” Fairchild said. 

“Yes.”

“A gambling man, then?” asked Fairchild, though it didn’t sound like a question. “Well, that figures. As I recall, dear old Mordechai had a fondness for wagers as well, and they do say these things are genetic, you know.”

Peter blinked. “You knew Mordechai Lukas?”

Simon tipped his head side to side, contemplating. “As well as anyone could have known Mordechai, I suppose, with the distance he kept between himself and the others. Truth be told, I don’t think I was wealthy enough back then to be of any real interest to him, and frankly, I’m not sure Jonah liked me at all, so our interactions were… limited.” Fairchild didn’t sound at all bothered by that fact, Peter thought. “Always outside looking in, with their… boy’s club. Which was perfectly fine, as far as I was concerned. It’s nice. Having distance from things.”

“Hm.”

Peter hadn’t noticed - but at some point his head had stopped aching. 

Fairchild unclasped his hands from behind his back and clapped them together. “Now then! I’m not sure about you, but I am starving. You’d think Jonah would spring for better caterers at these things. No matter. As it happens, I know of a lovely little hole-in-the-wall. Best fish and chips in all of London. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Best fish and chips? That is a very bold claim,” Peter said.

Fairchild smiled. It wasn’t that he had, at any point as far as Peter had been able to tell, stopped smiling, only that the smile grew fractionally wider. “If you’re up to it. A little wager? Dinner is my treat, if you don’t agree with my assessment.”

Peter felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile in spite of himself. An easy bet to win, and he was hungry. “I could just lie,” he pointed out. 

Fairchild shrugged. “You could! And I would be out give or take fourteen pound. But I don’t think you will. Gentleman’s honour.” Fairchild held out his hand. “Do we have a deal, Captain?”

Peter looked at the hand only a moment before reaching out his own and shaking on it. “Deal.”

The memory faded away after that, and Peter turned his gaze away from his coffee. He watched Simon add splashes of grey to the canvas. He did not know how it happened. How they went from that night to… this.

To easy comfort. An arrangement that suited them both.

Simon finally put his brush down in the cup, set the palette down on the table. Stretched his arms over his head and settled his hands on his hips afterwards. Peter’s eyes turned to the canvas. It was beautiful. The grey blue of a foggy ocean, the dull beige of an isolated strand of beach. He could practically hear the sound of the waves, feel cold sand beneath his feet.

The longer he thought about it, the more certain he became.

There hadn’t been a moment that they became anything more than what they were. 

He did not know how long he had been in a relationship with Simon Fairchild, because they had been this way from the start. And Peter reasoned that was why it worked. 

They understood each other, and that was enough.

[imaginingmoonlight]

Hastie Lanyon was a Dead Man: a Lanyon/Jekyll oneshot

Word count: 1485

Notes:

Guess who’s been fixating on silly Victorian men? ME! Yeah I had fun with this. I’m so sorry it will get a bit angsty. This is up on ao3! My account is under the same name as here :) Warning: major character death.

Hastie Lanyon was a dead man. These shaking gulps of air, these slow and rhythmic heartbeats would be his very last. He could feel it- his life slipping through his fingers like water off a duck's back. It would be gone soon, gone like the sunlight slipping into the horizon or clouds whisked away by the wind. Would anyone care? Would anyone notice? Would anyone miss him once he was gone? Utterson, perhaps. He was a good chap. Loyal, he was, albeit a little dull. Hastie had always considered the lawyer to be one of his closest friends, whether the feeling was reciprocated or not. He had even visited a day ago, the very second he had heard of the illness. That was hard. Oh so hard. To know you were dying? That was one story. To admit it aloud? That was another story entirely. Lanyon remembered how the tears had stabbed at his eyes, how his chest had tightened, how his hands trembled with fear. Utterson was patient, sympathetic, even a little teary himself. But when he had mentioned Jekyll...

Jekyll.

Where would he be now? Was he even Jekyll anymore? No doubt, that Hyde character had probably taken over completely now. Lanyon was considerably more upset at the thought than he should have been. He hated the man, don't get him wrong. The very thought of him made his blood boil and his skin crawl with an army of spiders. Yet... the thought also made his heart swell. A swell of memories, joy, happiness, love . Jekyll, before his downfall, had been much more than a friend. Much, much more. "Just a friend" wouldn't stay up until first light drinking wine and talking about their deepest, darkest secrets. "Just a friend" wouldn't brush their knuckles against yours while walking just a little too often to be accidental. "Just a friend" wouldn't share a kiss, soft and tender, with you in a moonlit study. No, Jekyll was not a friend, not by a long shot.

When was the last time he had seen him, before the incident? Well, it must have been winter, at least 9 or 10 years ago. They were much younger, of course. Reckless. The two were in Jekyll's house, sat huddled together in the same armchair. It was cold outside, deathly cold, yet they were heated by the hearth both in the centre of the room and the ones hidden in their hearts. It was silent, but a comfortable silent. Silent like the calm right after a storm. Silent like the early morning. Words were whispered, lingering on steady breaths and gentle gazes. It was a perfect night. Until it wasn't.

"Hastie?" Jekyll's voice had a shaken quality behind it, the usual sweetness cracking. Immediately, Lanyon could tell something was wrong.

"Yes, dear?" He had replied, pretending to be none the wiser while the worry gripped his gut like a vice.

"Do you ever think about... You know,"

"No, I don't know. Go on?"

"Running away?" The words could barely be heard as they escaped his lips. Lanyon had been taken aback. What were you supposed to say to that? What could he possibly answer?

"Well, no, not really." Why would he? Life here was perfect. He had a blossoming career. He had a blossoming love. What more could he ask for? What more could he want?

"Not really? Not once?"

"I have no reason to. I have everything I need right here." He leaned over to rest his head on his partner's shoulder, fighting to keep his tired eyes open. Jekyll had smiled, genuine and warm, but there had been a slight sadness hiding at the very corners of his mouth.

"Of course. Of course. But what about freedom? What about the liberty to be ourselves out on the streets? We have to hide from the public eye every day, Hastie. Why should we? Why should we have to cater to a world that looks down on us?" Oh. Lanyon looked down at his feet, shoes still on from a day working.

"Because that's life, Henry. Not everyone will accept us and that's okay."

"How can you be okay with hiding this? Surely you can't bear to live the rest of your life hiding a secret? Hiding the most beautiful truth to exist?"

"Henry, we can't just leave. That's absurd."

"But is it?"

"Yes, it is." Lanyon sat up straight, gaze hardening ever so slightly. It was enough for Jekyll to see, though; he recoiled a little, flinching with a grimace. "What about our jobs, Henry? What about our lives?"

"Hastie, you are my life!"

"Then why isn't this enough? Why do you want more?"

"You know why. I may have you but we'd still be shunned if we so much as linked arms in public. Is that the life you want to live?"

“I-“ the words wouldn’t come out.

“So come with me!”

“…I can’t.” He choked the sounds out, barely a whisper. “I can’t just leave my life’s work.”

Jekyll shook his head. The disappointment and anger and hurt grew in his eyes, a distant inferno swirling in his irises.

“Henry, I’m so sorry-“

“No. It’s fine.”

And with that, Henry Jekyll had strode out the door.

It would be years until he heard from Jekyll again. It had gotten worse over time. It turns out time doesn’t bring fondness; like a grape in a barrel, it brings bitterness and sucks the sweetness out. Lanyon could barely take hearing Jekyll’s name in public again. Ever since he’d left, the man had completely thrown himself into his work. Immoral work. The devil’s work. Utter scientific balderdash. This didn’t really bother Lanyon too much, of course, but at least he had an excuse to publicly hate the scientist. No one had to know about their… past relations.

But oh, how he missed him desperately.

One can forgive. One can move past. But one can never forget. And god, he’d never forget those nights, just the two of them, spilling secrets like water through open fingers and sharing sweet, lovesick looks lit by candlelight. They were the best nights of his life. And they were gone now.

At least, that’s what Lanyon thought. Then came that December night. The night was suffocating, a thick fog laying over the city like a distasteful throw. A thick air of mystery loitered. That mystery only built when a letter was delivered to his door. A letter from none other than Henry Jekyll.

So eagerly had Lanyon sliced open the envelope and delved in. So quickly had his heart skipped a beat or two.

“Dear Lanyon, You are one of my oldest friends; and although we may have differed at times on scientific questions, I cannot remember, at least on my side, any break in our affection. There was never a day when, if you had said to me, ‘Jekyll, my life, my honour, my reason, depend upon you,’ I would not have sacrificed my left hand to help you. Lanyon, my life, my honour my reason…”

Lanyon had hardly been able to read the rest with a clear head. His life. His honour. His reason. Did he really still mean that much to him after everything that had happened? So of course, without a doubt in his mind, Lanyon followed the cryptic, quite possibly dangerous instructions detailed.

He so desperately wished he hadn’t.

He had driven straight to Jekyll’s house, despite every ounce of reason screaming at him from his core. He met with Poole, got the drawer and went straight back to Cavendish Square. Even when that strange little man- Mr Hyde- had shown up, he still pushed aside any doubts and focused on the task at hand: saving Jekyll’s life. However that may be. It was all so confusing.

He hadn’t expected Mr Hyde, after promptly taking that potion, to transform into Jekyll. It was horrific. Such horrors he had never seen before. Every time he shut his eyes, all he could see was the way that man’s features had grotesquely contorted, agonisingly slow, into the face that once brought him the most comfort in his life. He felt no comfort then. Just fear. Pure fear, raw and acidic in his stomach. It had scared him half to death. Quite literally. Now look at him. He was laying on his death bed, slowly fading away. Wasted. Lost. Soon he would be gone forever. He had so many regrets. He should have just ran away with Jekyll when he had the chance. Maybe then the man never would have turned to such horrific experiments.

"Jekyll? If you can hear me-" his words sounded so pathetic, so weak, hanging limp in the air of his room.

His answer was silence. Still, he continued.

" I love you."

And just like that, a lantern flickering to darkness, Hastie Lanyon was well and truly a dead man.