#but i only realised last night that maybe taking a full day to work out what to write on a simple essay might not be normal

[moonlit-orchid]

Sitting here wishing my ADHD was more severe just so people could realise I actually have a problem-

[goldengirliez]

STEALING MIKEY'S KEYS SO HE'S LATE FOR A MEETING>>>>>

09:32 pm

I believe that intimacy is the new kind of pure love. Getting to know someone on a deeper level is something that goes beyond simple attachment, it goes beyond the simple but necessary need of validation.

Being intimate means getting on the same frequency level as a person and communicating effectively with each word, each action, and each stare.

Intimacy isn't something you only find under the sheets until sweat, tears and arousal dampen the mattress. Its true nature lies in between the actions of your everyday life, moments that don't need any kind of particular reason to happen and yet feel special because you are there, you are connected.

You have realised such a thing only briefly as the air is getting in and out of your lungs hectically, your breath coming short and irregular and the adrenaline rushing through your veins full speed with each pump of your vital muscle.

Your legs almost shake and your feet ache slightly, your eyes darting to the person in front of you with an excited and rebellious glimmer, the glint of life.

You've been running away from Mikey for the last ten minutes because you had taken the keys to his motorbike.

He has been spending every evening with Toman recently, not passing by your home to even say goodnight because the meetings always finish late at night.

You know that he always tries his best to make it up to you for the lost time with his ways of bringing your favourite sweets to school, taking you home and around the city with his bike whenever you need to, sending you a sweet message randomly throughout the day to check up on you, never missing the opportunity to hug you, kiss you or keeping you close when you pass by, and yet… You can't help but miss him more than anything.

You tried to talk to him about it but he prefers for you to not get too involved in his gang business: he fears your safety, not wanting hundreds of testosterone-filled guys to get close to his beloved.

You fear nothing when he's by your side but he still turns you down when you ask to come along with him: he has lost too many people he cared about for his good and he has no intention of putting you in danger even the slightest.

This had to change.

That's why you're preventing him from heading to the meeting of Toman until he makes up his mind.

“Y/N! I'm gonna be late, please, give me those darn keys back, goddamnit!!”

His voice spurts out desperately, short puffs of air coming out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath: you're fast for fuck’s sake!

He is a bit pissed at you for acting this stubborn, sure, but he can't help the wide smile that plasters on his face the more he hears you laugh every time he can't catch you, every time you hide behind his motorbike and fool him by running in the opposite direction, almost tripping on your own feet.

That smile of yours, that light in your eyes is worth every spare minute of his life and the meeting can wait if that means he has the chance to see you this full of energetic playfulness.

You're both in the flowers of your youth and sometimes you forget that due to how harsh life experiences can be. Moments like these make up for the lost time.

As you raise your hand high and shake his keys, making them jingle as you do so, you can't help but feel overpowered by pride: having your super athletic boyfriend, the invincible Mikey whining out to you so he can get what he wants isn't an everyday occurrence (I mean– unless he's begging for sweets or your attention, of course). Maybe you could break him and he would finally let you come along in one of his meetings.

“Begging ain't gonna do shit, you gotta work for it, Mikey!”

Sprinting to the other side of the garden of his house, you can feel him sigh exasperatedly and follow you along as he mutters “If I catch you–" in between a breathy laugh.

The wind feels magical against your skin, the cool breeze of the night after a heated summer day gives you goosebumps and yet you feel hot all over; your blood pressure rising with each stride of your run is what keeps you going, laughing nonstop as you stare up the full moon over your head briefly, savouring such a moment that will surely become a core memory of yours.

As you hide behind his motorbike once again, Mikey stops a few feet away from you, the vehicle is the only thing separating your bodies.

“You’re a menace, y/n!”

You shrug at his words, rotating his keys on the tip of your index finger with a proud expression.

“I guess that dating a delinquent made the trick– eek!”

You can't even finish your sentence as Mikey takes a run-up and easily jumps over his CB250T and lands not so graciously on top of you, making you fall on the grass with a thud. The impact doesn't hurt that much though, not when Mikey put a hand behind your head right on time so you couldn't injure the slightest.

He couldn't resist the urge to bring you down and wipe off your face that shit-eating grin and see that cute pout your peachy lips make every time he catches you by surprise. He's a weak man, bear with him.

Pinning you down on the floor he takes away his keys from your hand and smiles toothly: his rosy cheeks and messy hair shine under the moonlight, his obsidian gems staring into your soul easily make you melt and your initial annoyance turns into an amused laugh. He's your angel, no matter what.

“Sorry, what were you saying about dating a delinquent?”

Rolling your eyes at his statement, your smile slowly fades when he gets off you and brushes some grass away from your shirt with his hand, before kissing the top of your head with the soft petals of his lips.

He was going to leave again and that thought screeches inside your brain. It doesn't sit well with you the fact that he's keeping you detached from a big aspect of his life… There's a strong gut feeling that tells you you shouldn't let it slide, you should insist on being part of this area of his life because, if you don't, something extremely bad will happen in the future.

And Mikey sees right through you, he always does, because he loves you and he is connected to your being in every way for respect and admiration.

He feels the intimate bond you two share, he can almost touch that connection, he can feel the burn of the red string that connects the two of you.

He can feel his bones ache under the weight of letting you drown away from him so sad and helpless and whenever he sees your angelic face darken out of worry and fear for him, for the both of you.

He knew why you took the keys away from him that day and he couldn't help finding it amusing and cute... but believe me when I say he's not blind and recognises the desperate attempt to have yourself near him for longer.

Mikey stands up from the ground and offers you his hand to stand up, his calloused hand brushes against your tender palm and holds in a strong and warm hold that doesn't flatter even when you're finally standing.

Staring down at your feet, your voice comes out in a whisper, a loving but pained one.

“Please, be careful Mik–”

“Hop on.”

Your head snaps up, your eyes searching for his out of confusion and then hope.

The two of you are intimate, you understand each other's worries and can feel them within your organs, you can feel each emotion run through your being and resonate like a magnetic wave from you to him and vice versa.

You two are flames that burn for love, with love: your glint should never flatter, you deserve to feel it alive and vibrating.

Mikey smiles at you as he puts his helmet on top of your head and secures it attentively.

“I'll keep you safe, pinkey promise”.

That's your man to you.

I have had this idea bouncing inside my head for a while now! I've been inspired by this post of the sweet @xsleepinggoodx.

I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.

English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!

Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.

[alienguts]

To a Man's Heart (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce keeps forgetting to eat.

Warnings: None unless food counts

Request?: No

A/N: It turns out that I don't like to describe people eating.

Y/N and Bruce had been together for so long that they knew each other inside and out. Every little habit and quirk was accounted for and as soon as something was off, they knew something was wrong.

But there was one thing that Y/N just could not fully understand: how it was possible for Bruce, one of the most ripped and athletic men she’d ever met, to go without food for so long. She’d known guys who played sports in high school who never stopped eating, but there were times when she’d seen Bruce eat three bites of a sandwich in an entire day before heading out on patrol.

It was roughly 8pm when Y/N descended the steps into the Cave, her slippered feet softly clanking against the steel. Bruce had told her earlier that day that he wasn’t planning to go out on patrol and had sent the boys instead, but she still didn’t expect to find him at the computer in deep concentration. She almost hoped that he wouldn’t notice her almost creeping up behind him, but of course nothing got past Bruce, even without all of his detective equipment.

“What’re you doing down here?” he asked as he turned around in his chair to see her.

“Just checking up on you,” she said as she made her way across to him. “I know you’re usually quiet but I never heard from you all night.”

He smiled warmly and held his arms out to her so she could climb into his lap. “Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in this case I forgot to go back upstairs.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his warm chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, not realising how much she’d missed his touch after not seeing him all day. He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She felt like she was just about to drift off to sleep when a low growling sound snapped her out of her daze.

Not again.

“Bruce, when was the last time you ate something?” she asked as she pulled herself up to look at him.

“What?” Bruce asked, as if it was a ridiculous thing for her to ask him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked again, slower.

He was quiet for a second, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to remember. “Maybe around noon? I’ve spent more time working than thinking about food, Y/N.”

Y/N let go of him and stood up before grabbing his hands and tugging on them. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you something to eat,” she said. She could feel him trying to resist, but he knew better than to try to stop her from getting him to take care of him.

Bruce let her pull him to his feet, his joints stretching out from sitting down for so long, and followed her back up the stairs to the Manor. The warmth of the study hit both as soon as the hidden door slid open and light from the sun filtered into the doorway. Even though it was only 8 ‘o clock, it was still light out and birds were singing outside. 

After spending all day underground in the Cave, Bruce welcomed the quiet of the Manor and could feel himself relaxing with each step they both took through the study. The hum of electronics slowly faded out of earshot as they made their way out of the study and towards the kitchen, their footsteps echoing around them.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, Y/N guided Bruce to sit at the table before going to the fridge and opening it.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked as she studied the fridge’s contents.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” he said and got up to stand behind her. “You know I’m not picky.”

“Bruce, I already had dinner.”

The fridge was relatively bare, considering that it was the day before she and Alfred did the grocery shopping and they had a full house of vigilantes to feed. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on an almost empty pack of bacon, along with some leftover lettuce and tomatoes.

“I could make you a BLT,” she offered, looking over her shoulder at Bruce.

He leaned down to softly kiss the top of her head. “BLT sounds wonderful,” he said.

Even though she usually insisted that Bruce not help her in the kitchen, Y/N let him slice the tomatoes and lettuce for her while she cooked the bacon. She knew Alfred wouldn’t be happy if there was a small kitchen fire and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. Thankfully, he’d managed to do it without cutting himself or making too much of a mess.

Clearly some of his swordsmanship translates to the kitchen, Y/N thought as she assembled the sandwich and plated up. They sat side-by-side at the table, and as soon as Y/N gave Bruce his plate, he took one half of the sandwich and handed the other half to her.

“No, Bruce, it’s yours,” she said as she tried to push his hand away.

“You should eat something too,” he said before taking a bite of his half.

“I already ate, you have it.”

He shrugged and continued to eat, almost wolfing the sandwich down. Obviously he was hungrier than he’d thought before.

“Is it okay?” Y/N asked. “I know I’m not as good a cook as Alfred is.”

“It’s delicious,” Bruce said, giving her a warm smile. “You are a good cook, miles better than I could ever be.”

“It’s just a sandwich Bruce,” she said bashfully, “how hard can it be to get right?”

“Trust me, I would know,” he said through his last bite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s kind of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job,” Bruce said as he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “What would I do without you?”

“Same as you did before, leave whatever Alfred makes you go cold.”

Bruce laughed and came back to the table to gather Y/N in his arms.

“See, this is why I married you,” he said as he gently pulled her to stand. “You make me food, and you make me laugh.”

Y/N returned his hug and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and letting him take over her senses.

“You’ve been sitting at that computer all day,” she said when she lifted her head up. “You needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said. “This case isn’t that urgent and the boys are dealing with patrol.”

“Does that mean you’ll come watch a movie with me?” Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce smiled and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. “Yes it does,” he said. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on you.”

Y/N let go of him and took his hand again to lead him to the living room. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep, at least I get to spend some time with you.”

[yjhariani]

Bad Ideas

Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN!Reader Word count: 2000± Warning: Profanity, ankle injury Summary: Now, you're the one taking him out on a date.

A/N: So, I don't think I would ever write smut and that seems to be what people were expecting by the end of the last one (which is open to your own interpretation), but what I can provide is hopefully some cute shits happening some time after that.

“No,” you sighed. “Now that I’m here, I realise that this is a bad idea, Simon.”

“You took me here, Y/N,” Simon recalled.

“I know, but our opponents are likely teenagers or some weird, gamer guys with noodle arms and you’re a one man army who’s trained to shoot,” you reasoned.

“They have their practice in PUBG, we’re very much even,” Simon said.

It was a good idea at first. Maybe instead of him taking you on another date, you suggested that you should be the one taking him on the date.

For some reason, indoor paintball sounded like another good idea at that time. Which was why you both were here. For paintball.

It had been another few months since your latest, very lovely encounter with Simon. Last time, he spent a night in your flat and you delivered him back to his the next morning. Well, noon. There was a lot of delay.

Later that same day, Simon knocked on your door again and informed you that he was leaving for work, again. That was when you told him that you wanted to be the one taking him on a date instead of him taking you on another date in spite of him insisting that he was the one owing you a date.

Of course, upon his arrival home last night, Simon knocked on your door and you woke up on the same bed by the morning like last time. 

Today, being another Saturday, a few days after his arrival home, you finally executed your plan. It was a good idea after all. At the time. Up until this point. Until you changed your mind a few seconds ago.

“When we’re in the field, you do everything I say, alright? As long as you do that, I’ll keep you alive and I have your back,” Simon said.

“You can literally obliterate them in five seconds,” you pointed out.

“No,” Simon denied. “I’ll only need three seconds.”

Simon made sure that your goggles were secured whilst you looked at him in disbelief.

“This is a bad idea,” you said again.

“This is your idea,” Simon said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know, like… everything goes awry and you’ll hate me to a point that you’d rather move out of your flat and we’ll never see each other again,” you said.

Simon let out a light chuckle, something you did not remember ever hearing before. There was something serene and satisfying about his laugh and who knew someone’s breathy, hitched, somewhat low voice could be like that.

“No,” Simon said, putting a hand on the side of your face. “The worst that could happen is you spraining your ankle or face planting on the ground. Maybe getting a few bruises. Of course, there are cases where—”

“Okay,” you cut off. “I get it.”

“Good,” Simon nodded.

Fast forward approximately twenty minutes later, you were in the field full of people screaming and yelling and a referee who was laughing their ass off.

Earlier, when Simon heard the other team—that happened to be a team of three and you were stuck going two against three for some reason—being very tactical, he decided that he should do the same though not as loud. He did that on purpose, saying everything in military terms and watched you struggle to understand half the things he was saying.

Simon, being very capable of obliterating your opponent in three seconds, decided that he wanted you to celebrate this… not so bad of an idea for a date. Most of the time, he was fishing the enemies out and had you take the killing shot. Well, until they took you out and Simon literally took out the remaining opponents in three seconds.

As you were about to get out of the field when it happened. The worst. Somehow, in a brief second, you tripped. Simon was ready to catch you, but alas he was too far behind you by inches.

As a result, you fell face forward on the ground.

In any instance, should any fall happen in any place where there was at least another person around, the damage would be more on the mental side than the physical. However, in spite of the embarrassment, the pain you felt on your ankle was felt impeccably.

“You alright, love?” Simon casually asked once he was kneeling next to you, helping you get up to sit at least.

Looking at him, though, you could see his eyes lighting up.

“I—my… Simon, the fucking worst just happened to me,” you replied. “And you think it's funny.”

“I don't," Simon said, but not really convincing you of his denial. "Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle,” you answered.

Simon scooted over to your feet level. Carefully, he put his hand on your ankle, but accidentally pressed too hard on it and triggered a yelp from you.

By then, a few people had passed along and you tried to serve them an awkward smile.

“Alright, you’re not walking on that,” Simon stated.

“What am I—”

“I’ll find something to wrap it up with, you wait here,” Simon proceeded before walking off.

Simon returned fairly soon after that with a roll of bandage. He sat on the level of your foot and looked at you in a questioning manner.

“What am I supposed to do?” you asked.

“Let me take your shoe and sock off and patch you up,” Simon said.

“Okay,” you nodded. “Are you sure?”

“I got my training, love,” Simon said as he started getting to work.

Even in a dire time, the way he addressed you like that still got your stomach churning.

As Simon wrapped your ankle with a bandage, you removed your gear and collected your shoe. Once he was done, Simon looked at you and you could feel his smile teasing you from behind that mask.

“It’ll get better,” Simon said. “Let’s get you home and get lazy."

“Sure,” you sighed, "Nurse Ghost."

Simon helped you to your feet. However, as soon as that happened, he swept you off your feet and carried you up.

“This is unnecessary,” you chuckled. “This is a bad idea.”

“This is you getting nursed,” Simon insisted.

Initially, you planned to take him somewhere else after this, but now that disaster happened, the two of you ended up getting on a cab to get back to your flat.

In the middle of the way, Simon put an arm around your shoulders. There was something about the way he held you that made you feel somewhat secured.

“I’m sorry this turned out disastrous,” you said, still somewhat embarrassed, but also felt quite alright now that Simon was still here.

“You did pretty well, actually,” Simon said. “If you pursue it, you could participate in a sniper competition with Soap in a few years.”

“Soap’s a sniper?” you questioned.

“He didn’t say?” Simon replied.

You shook your head. Simon only looked at you and patted you on the shoulder.

“I was gonna take you for ice cream,” you continued.

“You see the sky’s cloudy, right?” Simon replied.

“Even if it’s raining, I would’ve taken you there. They have hot chocolate,” you smiled. “With marshmallows.”

Simon said nothing, but you felt his smile again. Who knew if he was actually smiling, but it felt like he was. Maybe it was simply the tenderness in his eyes.

“We could have those at home,” Simon said. “Maybe watch something with ice on your ankle.”

“Am I reading this wrong or are you inviting me to cuddle?” you asked.

Not saying anything, Simon looked out the window.

When you both arrived, Simon helped you get out of the car and walked you both into the building. It took sometime, but soon enough you reached your floor.

Once you got off the lift, Simon picked you up and put you on his back like a backpack.

“What are you doing? I walked fine earlier,” you chuckled.

“Putting too much pressure on your injury is not a good idea,” Simon put out an open palm. “Key.”

“No,” you said.

Simon proceeded to walk towards his flat.

“Wow,” you said in disbelief.

Once inside, Simon sat you down on the sofa. He stretched your injured leg and made sure it was comfortable with a stack of cushions underneath it. After that, he hunched down on the backrest to level with your face, sort of peeping on it. He put his chin on his knuckles.

“What flavour ice cream do you want?” Simon asked.

“No,” you chuckled. “It should’ve been me asking you that.”

“I’ll guess, then,” Simon stood up.

Simon only looked at you. It seemed that there were a few thoughts going in his mind.

“What do you need?” Simon asked.

“I mean, you said ice for my ankle,” you answered. “But, I can get that myself, just a few doors away.”

“No,” Simon said. “I’ll get it. What else do you need?”

“The rest of the weekend with you?” you answered.

“Copy,” Simon said. “Give me ten minutes.”

Before he left your flat, he kissed you on the forehead through his mask.

If you were allowed to scream without getting any consequences, it would be really nice. It was probably either screaming or squealing. Maybe both.

He was so lovely and cute. Maybe Simon was too tough to actually admit that he was inviting you to cuddle, but the way he went around it was as admirable.

When Simon returned, he had a bag of ice and quite a number of snacks that he laid on the coffee table. He took the ice and moved next to your leg.

“You might want to get the ice cream first before they melt,” Simon said as he unwrapped the bandage from your foot.

“Simon—”

Simon cut you off by shushing you. He was not even looking at you.

So, you reached to get the ice cream. It was surprising that he got two tubs of your favourite ice cream flavour. 

“You might want to put one of these in your freezer,” you suggested.

“That’s where I put my heart,” Simon said as he was putting the ice on your foot, but before you could comment on his latest statement he said, “It’s not swelling too bad. Should be improving in a few days. Don’t walk on it.”

You handed him one of the two ice cream tubs.

“Thank you,” you said.

“I've done nothing yet,” Simon sighed before walking off for a moment.

Simon returned with two spoons and a mug. He joined you on the sofa, setting up his telly. You scooped half of the ice cream into the mug before presenting the two options to Simon. He took the mug.

By then, you were snuggled against him and whatever film Simon put on was starting.

“Nice way to end the day, don’t you think?” Simon asked.

“It’s 2 pm, Simon,” you said.

Simon lifted his mask to his nose. You looked at him and he delivered a kiss to your lips right away.

“What are we watching?” you asked, resting your temple on his chest.

“Something Soap recommended. He said it’s from a book,” Simon said. “Said something about Nicholas Sparks.”

“Oh, Simon,” you hummed, lightly chuckling. “Do I need to get worried that I might be ruining your relationship with him?”

“Let’s see how this goes and I’ll answer that by the end of this film,” Simon sighed.

Your light chuckle made Simon look at you.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Simon stated.

“The paintball was a bad idea, but this is not,” you stated.

“Just so you know, it was not a bad idea,” Simon said. “If the worst didn’t happen, I would’ve proposed for another game.”

A smile bloomed on your face.

Before actually investing in the film while eating ice cream, Simon kissed you on the temple.

Would it be a good idea to spend the rest of the weekend like this? Simon definitely did think so. Besides, it was his birthday weekend, he should treat himself a little.

However, of course, you had no idea that today was his birthday. Simon was tempted on telling you, but he did not care if you knew or not. He felt celebrated and that was enough for him.

@pasta-m1lk @cutiecusp

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[thatacotargirl]

To the Ends of the Earth (2)

You asked for a part 2 to this, and part 2 you shall get!

Part 1 is here!

As always, inbox is open for requests for any ACOTAR characters.

Tagging @mybestfriendmademe for the kind request, thank you for your continued support angel 💖

Divider from the one and only @tsunami-of-tears! 💜

A Cassian x Reader Imagine

You wake with a groan. Your stomach was more settled and your head more calm, but a day full of agonising pain isn't the most conducive to a restful nights sleep. Rolling over, you are greeted by an empty bed.

It's hard not to feel a smidge of disappointment that Cassian didn't stay the night. You could have sworn that, last night, you'd heard him finally admit his feelings for you - the same feelings you'd harboured for countless years. Maybe your love wasn't as unrequited as you had once thought.

Dragging yourself up and out of bed, grateful to have not soiled your bedding once again, you head into the bathroom to freshen up and ready yourself for the day. The scent of Cassian still lingered on your clothes and it took everything in you to rip the shirt off your body and throw it in with the pile of dirty laundry.

Had Cassian really said that? Or had you dreamt it? Surely if Cassian really felt that way, he would have stayed? Or did he not realise you'd heard him? Did you hear him?!

You looked in the mirror and pouted at yourself. You were spiralling. Over a male, no less. Shaking off the thoughts, you got yourself washed and dressed, and headed to the dining room for breakfast.

-

Cassian and Azriel were already sat at the table, a bowl of porridge in front of them, chatting away. When you entered, both males fell silent.

"Good morning!" you called cheerily, setting yourself down at the table as the House placed a bowl of porridge in front of you.

"Morning, y/n. How are you feeling?", Azriel asked, shovelling another mouthful of porridge in mid-sentence.

"Better thanks, not 100% but better".

You glanced at Cassian, but he simply nodded into his porridge, avoiding eye contact with you. Huh?

"Thanks for you help, Cass", you offer him a smile - only to find it is met with indifference.

"Welcome", he replied, not even offering a glance up to you. You gaze over to Azriel, who simply shrugged, but you couldn't help noticing the small smirk he had on his face, and the sly nod he made in Cassian's direction. Cassian remained silent, finishing his breakfast faster than he has before, and left the table without Azriel, and without a goodbye.

"What was that about?!"

Azriel's smirk only grows bigger. He knows something, and I'd bet my right hand it has to do with Cassian taking care of me yesterday.

"Perhaps you should find out", Azriel offers, the smirk never leaving his lips.

Is that a challenge? I think it is. And if it's a challenge Cassian wants, it's a challenge he's going to get.

About an hour later, you find yourself heading up to the training ring atop the House of Wind. You have no intention of training today, still going through the throes of your cycle, but a little light stretching never hurt anyone. And, if you happen to be in the skimpiest pair of shorts you own, and the tightest sports bra barely holding you in, whilst Cassian is stood across the ring, that's just a coincidence - right?

Laying out your mat, you start some yoga poses, careful not to make eye contact with the Illyrian brothers sparring opposite you. Even without making eye contact, you can feel Cassian's gaze burning into your soul. You hear a sudden thump, and raise an eye to see Cassian sprawled on the mat, Azriel victorious on top of him.

"Distracted, brother?", Azriel asks mischievously. You have to hold back a giggle, carrying out another pose that you know makes everything stick out in all the right places. You hear Cassian huff, and watch discreetly as they start their sparring match again.

You stay for an hour, stretching out your muscles and working on some core balance, before rolling up your mat.

"Later boys", you call, throwing a wink in their direction. Azriel laughs, waving you off, but Cassian remains frozen solid - not daring to glance in your direction. It doesn't change the heady scent of arousal that wafts in your direction as you spin on your heels though, which takes on a distinct sandalwood tone, the same that had clung to your shirt last night.

Feeling pretty confident, based on Azriel's behaviour today and Cassian's response at the training ring, you decide to kick it up a notch.

You run yourself a bubble bath - which is realistically more bubbles than it is water - and settle yourself in. Cleaning off the sweat from your hour long yoga session, you wait patiently, listening for the distinctive heavy footsteps of the Illyrian General.

When you hear them walking down the hallway, you make your move.

"Is someone out there?", you call. You hear Cassian's footsteps stop outside your door.

"Y/n? All ok?", he calls back cautiously.

Carefully situating yourself so you are completely covered by the bubbles from the neck down, you smirk to yourself.

"Not really - I've got myself in a bit of a pickle and I can't reach it!".

You hear Cassian open your bedroom door and stifle your laugh when he pauses, clearly confused as to where you are.

"Can't reach what?"

"The shampoo, Cass. Give a girl a hand?"

You can almost hear his breathing from how deep it is in the adjoining room.

"Why can't you get it?"

"Why, because I'm all wet silly! Rhys won't be happy if I damage his floor by getting it soaked". You knew it was a bold-faced lie, the House would dry the floor instantly for you. He could correct you, he could tell you that the House would dry the floor, or that the House would even get the bottle for you if you asked it to. Or, he could walk in and give it to you. The choice was his.

You waited, almost giving up, before you saw the doorknob to the bathroom turning. Cassian walked into the room, hands over his eyes, as he reached out blindly to your shelves.

"This one?" he asks, holding up a body lotion.

"Nope"

"This one?" he asked, holding up a bottle of perfume.

"Cass, please just pass me my shampoo".

Cassian turns his back to you, making sure he can't see, before locating the shampoo and passing it to you without looking. You can see how hard his body is moving from his deep breathing.

"Thanks Cass".

"Yep, ok, good, welcome, is, um, is that all?"

He's flustered.

"Yes, thank you".

Then he ran, so fast he almost tripped on the carpet, out of the bathroom - your laughter following in his wake.

As evening approached, you began to get frustrated. You had spent the entire day taunting him, trying to get him to react, and the most you had got out of him was a blush.

You knew you weren't wrong - Cassian had some sort of feelings for you - and you wanted to know what they were. But, if he was going to play this hard to get, it was more than just a challenge you'd taken on - it was a damn suicide mission. You had to hit it in the one place he wouldn't be able to handle. You'd have to fight fire with fire.

As the Inner Circle gathered around the dinner table that night, exchanging stories of their day, your eyes fell to Azriel. He looked at you, confusion marring his face, until he saw your eyes glance over to Cassian, then back to him. His shadows, whirling around his face, filled him in on the rest of your plan; and Azriel smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Dinner was swiftly finished and everyone descended to the sofas in the main living room of the House, glasses of wine and whiskey in hand. You waited until Cassian was seated opposite Azriel, settled with his glass, before you made your move.

Sauntering up to Azriel, you gave him a smile, and sat down on his lap before taking a small sip of your wine. His legs moved, accommodating you, so you could lean against his chest. You didn't dare look up at Cassian, but you could feel the stares from the rest of your family, who were absolutely baffled about the scene unfolding in front of them.

"How about a drinking game?", you suggested, your voice cheeky and mischievous.

"Heck yeah!" Mor replied, "how about truth or dare? If you don't answer the truth or do the dare, you drink".

"Sounds great! Mor, you go first".

A few rounds went by and soon you were all in fits of laughter. Cassian had flown around the House of Wind entirely naked, Feyre had taken a shot of whiskey off of Rhysand's body, and Elain had admitted her crush on Lucien - much to everyone's whooping and excitement, and Elain's sheer mortification. Soon, it was Azriel's turn to ask you a question, and you saw the wicked gleam in his eye before he even opened his mouth.

"Y/n. I dare you to kiss me".

You gape at him, still seated in his lap. You can feel Cassian's gaze blaring at the back of your head as you turn to face Azriel. He winks at you knowingly, and you feel your confidence rising.

"Very well, I'm not one to turn down a dare".

You begin to slowly lean in to Azriel, eyes closed, before you are suddenly hoisted into the air. You open sharply, and realise you are staring down over Cassian's shoulder. You look up and see Azriel laughing on the sofa, Feyre in stitches on the floor, and Rhysand with a beaming smile on his face.

You stay silent as you let Cassian carry you up to his bedroom. He places you on the floor, his face red with fury.

"What the fuck was that about? Do you have feelings for Az?"

It was so comical, you couldn't help but laugh. Cassian stared at you absolutely bewildered.

"What's so funny?"

"He was doing it to wind you up, Cass; we were both in on it, I've been doing it all day".

"But why?"

You felt your own face flood red then, eyes on the floor as you fiddled with you hands.

"I heard you. Last night".

Cassian froze.

Several minutes went by in silence.

"Did ... did you mean it?"

Several more minutes went by before you dared to look up, your eyes meeting Cassian's. You saw the guarded look in them, his eyes searching yours. Clearly, they found what they were looking for, because his entire body softened.

"I meant every word of it".

You lunged at him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he hoisted you up and into his chest. You both stayed like that, holding each other for some time. When you lifted your head from his shoulder, you noticed he was smiling, his eyes swimming with love and adoration. You felt a warmth in your heart that you'd never felt before, and clung to him tighter, resting your head back on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you too, Cass".

[dearmantis]

There's no love like our love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x wife!Reader

Summary: When the Royal Family finally turns on the Grisha, you find yourself caught in the crossfire. Alone, of course. You're always alone, it seems.

Warnings: murder, death, canonical persecution of Grisha, violence, mentioned death of children, sexual harassment, slutshaming, mentions of sex and cheating, suicidal thoughts, self hatred

Word Count: 6.6k words

Authors' Note: I DID IT! HERE IS YOUR PART TWO FOR A LOST EMBRACE! IT ONLY TOOK 76 YEARS! BUT I GOT IT DONE BEFORE THE END OF APRIL (this is also very not edited, and I'm still not a native English speaker).

Also, funfact: I cut the ending of this, just like I did with part 1. There was a whole other ending, but that was basically just a lot of fluff. I wasn't sure if people would want that from this series/twoshot specifically so I cut it. I can't tell of cutting the ending is a good or a really bad habit.

The title is from Lights are on by Tom Rosenthal!

Part 1: A lost embrace | Masterlist

The universe is filled with light. Billions of beautiful stars, all different sizes and temperatures, burning brightly and sending their energy out into the universe to bring warmth and light.

But there is even more darkness in the universe than there are stars, filling the space between the celestial bodies. An all surrounding nothingness that acts as a playing field for all of the beautiful, weird and wonderful things hiding in the endless sky. A canvas for everything else in the universe that hugs and surrounds all.

And one day, at least according to the most popular theories, the last stars will die and the universe will be entirely engulfed in darkness.

It began with a loud burst of light, and it will die quietly in shadows.

That knowledge used to bring you comfort and a feeling of belonging. The darkness became your new home, a special, safe place right next to your husband, but there is no safety and love to be found in the darkness now.

It was predictable, honestly. You should've known the second Vasily allowed the Darkling to travel Ravka to search of the Sun Summoner with only a few First Army soldiers for protection, but you simply didn't pay attention to the signs, too caught up in your own frustration and bitterness.

He didn't realise it either, it seems, because he simply left without even saying goodbye, leaving you behind to run the Little Palace in his absence. One night you fall asleep next to him, back turned towards him to visibly reject his presence, and the next morning he is gone, his side of the bed made and all of his most important belongings gone. No letter, no announcement beforehand, nothing.

Maybe his head was simply too focused on Alina to even remember that he still had a wife.

It doesn't matter anymore.

You're still awake when they come, three nights after the General left the Little Palace.

You're laying in bed, humming an old lullaby – one of the really old ones that you learned because he sometimes sings them to you when you can't sleep – while working on fixing the embroidery on the kefta of one of the younger students.

The disappearance of the Sun Summoner has led to chaos in all of Ravka, and there hasn't been a calm moment in the palace in weeks. You are forced, just like everyone else, to work until you pass out while keeping up appearances in front of the royal family. Everything needs to be immaculate despite the fact that the whole country is in a state of emergency, so you push small detail work like this into every free second of your day in hopes of doing something good.

You're so focused on your project that you don't even hear them approach your windows from the outside.

They sneak around, quietly taking out the guards until they're sure that they won't meet too much resistance, and then, suddenly, everything is very loud.

You don't remember what happens. Just flashes of memories. Little pieces that simply aren't enough to form a full picture, as if your body simply wasn't able to take it all in. Or maybe it refuses to remember.

Glass shatters, loud and unfamiliar steps echo like thunder through the halls of what was supposed to be your home, men with bad intentions are in your bedroom, in your house, in your garden.

And your husband is nowhere to be found.

The air smells like fire, panic and fear crackling in the air like electricity and the screams of the Grisha you swore to protect as if they were your own children echo through the building and outside.

Shots are fired in the distance, you're on the floor, the barrel of a gun pressed tightly against the back of your head.

There are more screams slicing through the night. You think you hear someone yelling your name, but before you can answer, one of the men who broke into your room slams their heavy gun against your head, and darkness welcomes you into it's familiar embrace.

When you finally wake it's to the sound of a gun shot ringing through the air, and though the bars of your new cage you watch through bleary eyes how one of your fellow Grisha runs away, his bright purple kefta unfortunately doing very little to hide his movements between the trees. You can't tell who it is, not in the dark.

A second shot gets fired. You see how it hits the Durast in the head, his body falling to the ground and staying there, unmoving. Nobody goes to check if he's dead or to drag him off and bury or burn his corpse. It's just left right there, next to a large ash tree.

Someone whimpers and sobs, begs for their life, but you can't take your eyes off the corpse. The way it just lays there, like it's nothing.

You haven't seen an actual battle in centuries. The Darkling is too paranoid to let you go, convinced that his enemies will target you in a fight and take you away from him. The thought alone used to turn his eyes cold and hard like ice, his whole body shaking with anger at the idea of you being in a dangerous situation. You haven't seen death like this, so fast and seemingly insignificant, in forever.

There is no triumph visible in the body language of the soldier that shot the Durast, but no shame either. A job done, nothing more. He doesn't celebrate or pat himself on the back. He just sits back down next to the fire in the middle of the camp and takes a sip of water, like the life he just took was worth less than even the life of a rabbit.

The other guards move to check the handcuffs of the others after that incident, making sure that everything works and no one is able to use their powers. Your heart races so fast it makes you dizzy, the fog in your head thickening and threatening to drag you back into unconsciousness.

It's hard to stay focused enough to take the whole situation in, but you try anyway, tearing your gaze away from the corpse. There are nine cages, including yours, one of them now empty.

The Grisha in the cages are, just like you, handcuffed with their hands far apart. Three of them are wearing their keftas - two of them being Alkemis, and you ask yourself if the Materialki were all still down in the workshops when the raid began - but the others, including you, are wearing whatever you wore to sleep that night. All of you are dirty, and you pray silently that none of them are hurt. It's hard to see with the lack of light. The cages all stand a bit too far away from the fire to truly see much.

The men who guard you, on the other hand, all look like they dressed up for a military parade. Their First Army uniforms sparkle almost, their faces clean shaven or decorated with carefully trimmed beards. This was planned. This whole raid was planned, probably for weeks, and you didn't notice. The idea most likely came up as soon as the General returned from the Fold, and no one ever picked up on it.

It feels like a relic from a time you're supposed to have left behind, a time you didn't even experience and only heard about from the Darkling and on rare occasions his mother.

The First Army doesn't hunt Grisha anymore. The king doesn't put you into cages. They just hate you, insult you, and harass you, but they don't physically harm you anymore. Yet... here you are.

Ravka isn't supposed to be like Fjerda, like Shu Han, like Kerch. The Darkling had made sure of that, worked for this one singular goal for centuries, and dedicated his whole life to it.

The thought of him makes your heart sting painfully, and you suppress the urge to worry for him, to wonder where he is and if he's safe. You have bigger issues than him right now. He's fine. There's no room for argument. He has survived wars and centuries of persecution. This won't kill him. He's probably out there somewhere, completely safe, trying to track down his sun summoner while you rot in this cage alongside the others.

After the handcuffs are checked you watch as four of the five soldiers walk to the cages of the two Alkemi, Ivanna and Ole, and pull them out, the fifth still sitting at the fire and watching the whole situation with mild interest.

You hear one of the guards make a suggestion on how to deal with them, and your stomach turns.

In your mind, you are 12 years old, hiding behind your mothers skirt. Her hand rests on your head, trying to soothe you as you watch with the other people your village how a woman gets dragged out of the cage they kept her in. You remember her face. She works as a seamstress. She gives you pretty ribbons to tie around your wrist or into your hair whenever your mother buys something from her.

The man – was he the mayor? The village head? You don't remember what he called himself – who pulled her out of the cage pushes her to the ground, right in front of a large rock, and motions for someone hiding in the crowd to come closer.

Another man steps forward, the blacksmith, in his hands the biggest hammer you have ever seen.

The woman starts screaming now, her voice breaking under the force of her violent sobs. Her body shakes horribly, and your own shaking hands dig deeper into the material of your mothers skirt.

"Please, please, I swear it. This is a misunderstanding. I did nothing wrong. I swear it. Please, just listen to me," the woman begs while the mayor grabs the thick rope attacked to her handcuffs and pulls her arms and hands to rest on the rock.

The noise the hammer made when it slammed down on her hands haunts you for centuries, just like her screams do.

Just like the screams of the Materialki probably will if you survive this when the guards push them to the ground. The only difference is that the soldiers have no large hammers to break their hands.

You can't move, can't speak, can't do anything, completely frozen in fear while the soldiers hold them down, each of them pressing an arm down onto the cold ground. The two have no chance to defend themselves.

The man at the fire finally stands up slowly, grabbing one of the rocks lining the fire to prevent forest fires, and walks over to the six people on the ground.

You watch him do it. You have to. You failed to protect your Grisha, and the least you can do is witness the horrors they have to go through because of your own mistakes.

Because you should've known. You should've known. Of course the royal family would turn on Grisha. Of course they would send the Darkling away before they raided the Little Palace. He is the last line of defence for the Grisha in this country.

You should've noticed the signs. You should've talked to the General about it, maybe even with Baghra. You should've started to prepare to evacuate the whole Palace, organized a place to hide with food and beds and water.

But you didn't. You didn't because you were too blinded by your own stupid quarrel with the Darkling. This is your fault. Every drop of blood that was shed that night, every bit of pain and suffering that your Grisha experienced, clings to you.

It's all your fault.

When the soldiers are sure that they broke every bone in Alkemis' hands, they put the cuffs back on and throw them back into their cages.

And then they walk back to the fire in the middle of the camp and begin to eat, ignoring the sobbing of the Grisha only a few metres away from them and the corpse still peacefully resting between the bushes and trees.

You wake up the next morning with aching muscles and the knowledge that you probably won't get out of this camp alive. Because as much as you would like to pretend otherwise, these people know you. If Vasily gives the command to have you killed, these men know that you're their target. And he would. You can't even blame him for it. You're the wife of the General, just as much of a symbol for the Second Army as the Darkling. Killing you would be a message to all of Ravka.

They don't treat you much differently than they treat the others, to your surprise. You get starved like the others, glared at like the others, and dehydrated like the others.

You could almost believe that they somehow don't know who you are if it wasn't for the insults.

Every Grisha gets insulted, some more creatively than the others. Especially the two Alkemi get made fun of for their broken, swollen, and discoloured hands by the soldiers, like they aren't the reason why they look like that. Other insults directed at other Grisha in the camp, on the other hand, are overused and boring, like when they asked Lena, an Inferni, where her spark is, why her fire has disappeared.

"I thought Infernis are always so hot-headed? Come on, give us a show!" One of the older men in the camp says to her on your second day awake, and it makes your skin crawl. You wish you could claw those mens eyes out, make them bleed.

But the insults they direct at you, those are personal. They prove that they know exactly who you are despite never saying your name once.

The Darklings slut. That's what you are to them.

His favourite toy. A bedwarmer. A plaything. A whore to entertain him. A distraction from the war. A thing he can let his frustrations out on.

That's who you are in their eyes. Nothing more. Certainly nothing that deserves respect or should be feared. The fact that you and the other Grisha can't use the small science makes them braver.

The worst insults are the ones they come up with after the third day in the cage, right after the soldiers get a quick visit from one of Vasilys messengers, because their words are suddenly no longer insults. They are observations and a horrible, new truth that convince you that their earlier insults are true, working hand in hand with the thoughts and fears you had before any of this even started.

"Don't look at me like that, whore. Everybody, even us fools in the First Army, know how enamoured your husband was with the sun summoner. How many times do you think he fucked her before she ran? Probably did it right behind your back in your shared bed, you stupid thing. I bet she was the last thing he thought of before the guards that accompanied him shot him in the head."

The soldiers celebrate the news of the Darklings death like they just won the wars with Fjerda and Shu Han and tore down the Fold with their bare hands, drinking alcohol and eating freshly hunted deer meat while you and the other Grisha grieve and starve. You don't allow yourself to cry like the others, but you can feel your soul rip itself apart.

You begin to lose yourself after that.

Your sanity runs through your hands like sand, your mind desperate to escape the smell of the Durasts rotting corpse that the soldiers never bothered to remove, the insults, the screams of the other Grisha when they get pulled out of their cages (one a day, always only one a day, like they're trying to drag it out), the desperate hunger that burns in your stomach, the thirst that tears your throat apart, the death of your husband: reality in all it's horrible shapes and colours.

First, you spend a few minutes caught up in a nice memory, like a short conversation in the gardens of the Little Palace, drinking tea and leaning on his shoulder while he tells you about his day. Then the daydreams get longer and take more control over you until you spend days staring at nothing, buried so deep in your own mind that you're no longer aware of what happens around you.

A small part of you hopes that they'll kill you while you're in that state, caught up in the past. Everything is better than reality, and with every second that passes when you're fully aware of your surroundings, that reality becomes more unbearable.

You love remembering the time before Alina the most. You know that her only sin is shining a light onto the lies, destruction, and rot surrounding you, but without her light, you were able to pretend.

You are good at pretending.

The light just makes it harder, and sometimes you slip up and accidentally sink into a more recent memory, your mind racing through different thoughts so fast that you're unable to stop it.

Like how the girl whose kefta you repaired that night, little Bibi, probably ended up dying without it after working so hard to prove to everyone that she earned it. And now her corpse lays somewhere in Ravka with no one to take care of it, to lay it to rest.

The kids are easily the worst thing to remember. Every time you do, it feels like the guilt eats your heart or whatever is left of it right out of your chest, ripping and tearing on the muscle like a wolf on a bone.

How many of them got out of the Palace in time and are now hiding somewhere, probably scared and alone with no one to help them and no idea how to get to other Grisha or back to their families? How many of them are stuck in cages just like you, starving and terrified of the First Army men who are only waiting to get the command to kill them? How many of them didn't even make it out of the Little Palace and died at the hand of the soldiers during the raid?

How many children were buried and burned that night?

Your husband isn't much better to remember either. The words of the First Army soldiers burn themselves into your mind like hot coals. You don't want to think about it. You've never wanted to think about something less in your entire life, but no matter what you do, the pain of losing someone you've known for almost your whole life feels like a knife stuck in your chest.

"... guards that accompanied him shot him in the head."

It's odd, really, how all consuming grief can be even if a part of you hates the person you lost. Almost surreal.

There have always been chapters of your life subtitled with "before the Darkling". There aren't supposed to be chapters subtitled "after the Darkling", not even a single one. It's wrong. It's entirely wrong. He's supposed to be a constant. Something that doesn't move, doesn't change, doesn't leave. He was supposed to be here until the end of everything.

He wasn't supposed to leave you behind. You can't do this without him. You can't lose him. This isn't right.

It's the last piece. The last drop required to convince you that giving up might not be the worst option. If they succeeded in killing the Darkling... what can truly be done anymore? What can you do? You can't free the Grisha in your camp, not with your hands cuffed so far apart from each other that your arms regularly start cramping, and a stomach so empty that it feels like your entire body is trying to collapse in on itself to fill the void. You can't convince the soldiers to free you. You can't save the children and rebuild Ravka into a safe place once more, not alone. You can't do anything on your own. You are nothing.

So why shouldn't you die? Why not join your husbands soul, wherever it may be now? What is left for you to do here? What can you do?

Death haunts your sense of smell and vision. It haunts your mind, and it haunts all of Ravka. Why not let it carry you off? Away from the pain, the suffering, the fear and grief and rot.

There is only more to come. More horrors that linger in the unpredictable future, and no one left to fix it. You certainly can't do it, Baghra - if she still lives, that is - doesn't care enough about others to even attempt to fix anything, and the sun summoner evidently can't do it either. All she can do is shine light on the evil lingering in the dark, but she's not strong or persuasive enough to improve and change the nightmares she exposes.

The Darkling could've done it. He would fight tooth and nail, drench his hands in blood and ash to free the others. He has fought his whole life, after all. He could've done it again.

But you can't. You can't take his position in this war, as much as you wish you could. You can't even get your hands out of your stupid cuffs, no matter how hard you try.

Baghra was right in the end, it seems. You really are too weak to stay at her and her sons side as their equal. You are dust, nothing more.

Now that you're here, stuck in a cage and unable to defend yourself in any way, you ask yourself once more how she and her son could've possibly survived this long. How did they not give up? What do they have that you lack?

"When the entire world hates you and wants you dead, the best thing you can do is live."

That's what she said back then, but you simply don't understand how she found the strength to keep going. You can't find it in you, no matter how much you look. Your whole life is gone. Your friends are probably all in cages or dead. Your husband is dead. Your home is gone. There is nothing left, no reason for you to continue.

Your husband would want you to keep going, a voice in the back of your mind answers, and you can feel the sharp stinging in your chest return at the thought.

You miss him. You miss him so much that it feels like you're being torn apart from the inside. And if you're really honest with yourself, you have to admit that you have been in this state for a while.

All of that anger and jealousy was just your bodies way to avoid facing the fact that you were lonely. No wonder you immediately fell back into routine like a desperate little cat when he finally gifted you some attention after Alina fled. Your entire being was begging to get him back.

And now you will never have him again because you were both too stubborn to simply talk with each other. He will never understand how much it hurt to see him obsess over someone else, and you will never know why you suddenly weren't enough for him anymore.

You will never hear his voice again, or knit him a new scarf for winter, or wash his hair for him after an exhausting day. You will never be comforted by him when you have a headache or watch the first snow of the year cover the grass outside of the Little Palace. You will never fall asleep next to him again, his arms wrapped around you and your face pressed against his chest as his heartbeat and calm breathing lull you to sleep.

He will never hug you again or surprise you with breakfast. He will never help you choose jewelry for an event again, give you his cloak when you're cold, kiss you, laugh at your horrible jokes, or moan your name into your ear, his voice raspy with love and desire while he tries to bring you to another orgasm before his own crashes down on him.

You will never do anything with him ever again.

Turning your head slightly, you stare at the soldiers sitting at the fire, eating some form of stew. You can't smell it. The stench of the decomposing body is too strong, and you wonder how the soldiers can stomach food in this environment.

You can barely breathe on some days without gagging every few seconds. It's so horrible that it drives tears into your eyes.

They talk and laugh about some servant girl, and you silently ask yourself what fate the servants of the Little Palace met. How many of them died that night? How many fled? Did any of them try to help the Grisha that might've fled? And saints, what happened to the Oprichniki?

Slowly closing your eyes again, you pray that the wind changes direction and starts blowing the smell away while you try to think of something that gives you strength.

The first thing that comes to mind is your amplifier.

You haven't thought about that day in a while, not since Alina came to the Palace and your heart and soul drowned themselves in jealousy and hate.

But it's not right to forget something so special. You should remember.

Who else in all of Ravka got proposed to, not with a ring but with a barn owl and a knife?

He has been gone for months, looking for something in West Ravka, choosing to trave through Fjerda and around the Fold to avoid going through it, and the constant worry that he would be discovered keeps you awake on some nights. He sends a letter once a month and promises you over and over that he would be back in the spring, but you still end up surprised when one of your friends drags you out of your bed in the middle of the night and ushers you towards the Generals quarters.

And when you open the doors you find him leaning against his desk, a knife next to him on the table and a barn owl sitting quietly in a cage, large eyes looking at you curiously, but you don't even see those things. Not at first, at least.

You just see him.

"You're back!"

Quickly jumping over to him, you throw your arms around him and press your face against him, a deep laugh bubbling in his chest as he moves to embrace you tightly.

"Careful, my love," he murmurs, his hands finding the back of your neck and pressing you closer to him.

You stay like that for a while, holding each other tightly while he whispers soft words into your ear.

"I'm so happy to see you. I missed you so much, little love. I hope you weren't too lonely without me," he coos, pressing a long kiss onto your head.

You're about to answer him when the bird finally makes himself known. Turning your head quickly you look at it, and the owl turns it's head to the side as if it's trying to do assess you carefully as well, it's dark eyes looking you over a few times. You feel a bit self-conscious in your night dress, but instead of shying away, you decide to let it look.

"Is that what you were looking for in West Ravka?" you ask, gazing back up at him.

"I did a lot of research over the past year, and I think this amplifier would be strong enough," he explains, his voice as soft as a feather.

"Strong enough?"

"To keep you with me. I didn't believe it at first either, but this little bird could give you forever. Time would no longer be able to take you from me. I could keep you for eternity."

Tears well up in your eyes, your hands moving to hold onto the front of his kefta as he reaches over to the knife and holds it out to you.

"You don't have to do it right now. You can get to know the owl and see if it feels right. Think about it for a while. It's a big commitment, after all." His empty hand moves up to cup your face, and the tenderness in his gaze makes your heart race. "If you chose the amplifier, I will stay with you. I will be at your side until the end of everything, I promise it. I will take care of you when you're hurt, hold you when you're sad, and laugh with you when you're happy. I will fight at your side, protect you with my life, and take care of you until I die."

Biting your lip weakly, you look up into his eyes, somehow darker than the night sky. "And if I don't choose to take the amplifier?"

"Then I'll still do all of those things. I will just have less time by your side, but I will cherish that time just as much, sweet girl."

You don't know when it happens because you start to loose track of time after the first week is over, but at some point in a random night one of the soldiers goes into the forest to get fresh water from a nearby river and doesn't return.

You're not conscious enough to notice it, and the soldiers are too caught up in their preparations for tonight's entertainment.

You don't even notice how they move through the camp, their eyes looking at each and every grisha they have, and judging who would be able to provide the most fun tonight. You just wish you were lying on the floor.

If you laid down, you could pretend that the heaviness on your chest is your husbands weight and not a heavy mountain of grief that tries to drag you down into the heart of the world.

He liked to do that. Lay on top of you to make sure that every single centimetre of you touched him in some way. You used to jokingly complain about it, but he never stopped. Every time he knew you needed comfort he would lay down on top of you, his heavy, strong body pressing you deep into the mattress while he talked, either asking questions about your day and whatever might be bothering you, or telling you about his, always carefully pressing small kisses onto your face and neck.

He must've known that his weight comforted you, made you feel safe. You've never wanted to be crushed into a mattress by him so badly in your whole life.

You don't hear it when they discuss if you're weak enough now to remove you from the cuffs. You don't even hear it when they open your cage, the old metal screeching loudly.

You don't realize that anything is wrong until one of the soldiers unlocks the cuffs and your body falls to the floor like a wet sack of flour. A loud groan leaves your mouth, your voice rough from lack of use.

The soldier grabs your ankles and drags you out of the cage, your upper body dragging over the floor. After being hung up for so long, you realise very quickly that you can't move your arms at all. The muscles start twitching as soon as you even attempt to bring them together, and a horrible, sharp tingling sensation makes itself noticeable. You bite your teeth together to stop yourself from screaming out.

A wave of panic crashes over you as soon as you fully understand what's going on, trying to kick the man dragging you closer to the fire, but none of your movements seem to really bother him.

As soon as you're close enough to the fire, someone flips you onto your stomach and buries their hand in your hair to pull your head up. Your back bends horribly, and you hiss out in pain as your eyes find those of the soldier who broke the Alkemis hands with a rock.

He doesn't say anything. He just looks at you, eyes taking in every flinch and twitch in your face.

You stay like this for a few seconds staring at each other, when he suddenly spits directly into your face, a wide grin splitting his face into two a few seconds later before he slaps you. Your head drops to the ground quickly.

"Let's get started. Markus can join us later when he's done," someone says. Three seconds later, before you have time to register what he means, you have a small knife in your back.

A blood curdling scream leaves your throat and tears well up in your eyes. You want to beg, to humiliate yourself even further and kiss their shoes in hopes of escaping this, but the last shred of pride left in you won't let you.

One of the soldiers steps onto one of your hands, twisting his shoe a bit in the process to make it hurt more. Someone else grabs your other arm and twists it behind your back until you scream out once more. This time, you scream your husbands name, unable to stop yourself in time. It's a broken, pathetic sound that echoes through the trees like a gunshot.

You know he won't come, but something about saying his name again feels almost cathartic, so you continue to scream it out with your full heart and soul. With every hit, every kick, and every stab wound, you scream the real name of the black heretic out into the endless night and beg death to bring you to him.

When the first gunshots get fired into the forest, you mistakenly assume that they're shooting at you and tightly close your eyes. Your heartbeat rushes loudly in your ears, and your mind replays the events of the first day when the Durast got shot. You can't even stand up and run. Your whole body is consumed by pain.

This is it, you think. Loud screams pierce through the air, gruelling, blood curling screams that scare you half to death.

Your mind races, trying to quickly find a last memory to remember before a bullet pierces your chest or head and kills you, something sweet and soft and perfect, like your wedding night, or your first kiss, or your-.

A loud scream rips itself out of your throat when a bullet hits you right into your leg. The man who shot it is dead seconds later, torn to shreds by darkness itself, but you don't see it, your eyes still rightly closed as you wait for the next bullet to hit you.

It never comes.

Instead someone yells your name, and you think it sounds familiar.

"Ivan!" the man screams, and a second later, someone carefully turns you onto your back and falls to their knees next to you, pulling your head up into their lap, their large hands cupping your face.

You don't want to die. You're not ready.

"My love, my love, it's me. Can you hear me?," he speaks. Fabric ruffles and something wide is dropped over your shaking, weak form, and your whole body feels warm for the first time in days. A familiar scent enters your lungs, somehow overpowering the stench of rotting corpse and fresh blood.

"Sasha?" Squinting your eyes, you look up, trying to focus on the blurry face hovering above yours. He's easy to recognize. The ink black lines over his face are unique to him, almost out of place in this world, just like him. You want to reach up and touch him, but you can't. Your muscles won't cooperate.

"I'm here, my little love. I'm right here. I found you. And I'm so proud of you. So, so proud of you. And I'm sorry," Aleksander answers. His eyes sparkle like stars, tears rolling down his face and dripping onto yours like raindrops. In the back of your mind, you realize that you've never seen him cry in front of people like this before. Only ever in private. Now his voice is almost breaking, his sobs so loud it drowns out the noise of your own hammering heartbeat. It must be a dream. He would never allow himself to show weakness like this.

Ivan appears next to him like a ghost, his hands covered in blood as he carefully lifts the thick black cloak Aleksander covered you with from your legs to look at the injuries there.

"Sasha," you rasp out again. You want him to hold you so badly, but you can barely speak. All you want is to be held by your husband.

"Right here. I'm so sorry, sweet girl. So sorry. I promised I would protect you, and I failed. I'm so sorry, I will never make that mistake again, I swear. I'll never take you for granted again. I'm so sorry for being late."

You want to respond, to calm him down, but he doesn't give you a chance to talk. He just continues with his panicked, slightly hysterical rambling, his whole body shaking under the force of his sobs.

"I'll take care of you. I'll make sure you're safe, and I will never leave your side again. No one will ever hurt you again."

His thumb strokes your cheek gently, and the love in his gaze almost feels like a punch in the gut. He looks absolutely in love and absolutely devastated as well. "I thought I lost you. I kept looking for you in every camp I found, but you were never there, and none of the soldiers would tell me where you are. I was so sure they killed you. I was so scared. I thought-"

Aleksanders voice shatters like glass, his body almost curling in on itself as he presses his forehead against yours. You recognize the breathing pattern he uses, an old trick he taught you a few years ago when you were still new to your position as the Darklings wife. He's trying to stop a panic attack from taking over.

"I'm so proud of you. You're so strong and brave, my darling girl. My lovely wife. I love you so much. You're so good, so good for me. I don't know what I would do without you. What I would do if they... I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry."

He sounds broken, you notice. You've never heard him like this in your entire life. Tears flood your eyes, and you take a deep breath, more of his familiar scent entering your lungs. Rosemary and ash, with a hint of something sweet.

"I'm never going away again, I promise. I will never leave you again, sweet girl. Never again. You will never be able to get rid of me. I will bind myself to you, body and soul, until the end of everything, I swear it."

You're starting to get dizzy. Everything is so overwhelming.

"Am I dead?" You hear yourself asking, your vision dimming slowly, and you're sure you will be dragged back into unconsciousness by your body soon. Aleksander laughs, and it's oddly light and relieved, considering the context.

"No. No, you're alive. You survived. We both survived."

You smile.

Part 3: So I stayed in the darkness with you

Taglist: @savagejane1 @deadunicorn159

[ilexdiapason]

[@theminecraftbee inspired this fic! hermitcraft season 10's south neighbourhood becoming werewolves for the bit, ft. ren's propensity to take it seriously, and being the only one who does]

It was Stress who started it.

"C'mon, it'll be fun! I've never been a wolf before!"

"Werewolf," Ren corrects, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose tetchily. "And it's not fun. It's a chronic condition that needs constant management and can lead to some serious carnage if it's not properly cared for."

"Ah, who cares about a bit'a carnage? It's, like, week two. People die, they'll come back, no harm done. And you're tellin' me you don't see the appeal in a pair'a teeth like that?"

"Not - not really?"

Stress huffs, good-natured, tilting her head and baring her neck. "Think about it!"

"That's vampires," says Ren, "you're thinking of vampires who bite necks. Werewolves don't have a designated spot to bite. Because, like I said, it's not supposed to be fun. You're not supposed to want it."

She sighs loudly and uprights herself. "Alright. Figure something else out, then, shall I?"

"Do what you will," he tells her.

And then...

Well, it's a very unfortunate coincidence, is what it is.

He doesn't mean to get as wrapped up in his Ministerial Administrative duties as he does. There's a lot of paperwork that Xisuma cheerfully shrugged off on him when he realised Ren was assuming an admin position willingly - inventory checks and server code assessments and Right To Host permits that all need to be thoroughly combed through before they can be signed off on. It's not the most interesting job in the world, but Ren's been dying for a bit of busywork for a little while now. Strange how a life full of nothing but card games and deadly dungeons can leave you pining for the simpler days.

But the evening stretches on, and the letters start to swim before his eyes a little, and it's all too easy to just let himself rest on top of the pile of papers for a second before he gets back into things, gently lit by the glow of the full moon...

Ren wakes up, as he does more often than he'd care to admit, entirely naked.

He's in the street. Or what will be the street once the roadworks have gone underway, which is currently a patch of grass like all the other patches of grass around him. His office is maybe fifty blocks eastward, his trousers are nowhere to be seen, and the sunlight is altogether far too bright for him to take in much more than that.

Once he stumbles back to the office with naught but a pair of paws for cover, he finds his sunglasses and his shirt, and he can start putting the pieces together. Namely that his upper body is quite thoroughly splashed with blood, his claws are also caked in red, and the vial of wolfsbane he was meant to take last night is sitting unopened on the floor amid a pile of shredded paperwork.

So. Erm.

Some explaining to be done, then.

His clothes were shredded by his transformation, but of course he's got spares on hand for emergencies exactly like these ones. Shame about his periwinkle tie; it's going to need a cold wash, a hot wash, and a good bit of stitching to get it back in pristine condition. Unless he could convince Xisuma to do a rollback, but he doubts it at this early point in the season where so many people are working through the night to get themselves set up. Mending will have to suffice.

He also finds his comm lying in the wreckage. The chat history is... illuminating.

<Iskall85> is that ren i see outside?

<Xisuma> Looks like

<Iskall85> oh dear

<Iskall85> oh dear oh dear

<Iskall85> everybody keep your doors locked unless you want to become a werewolf

<StressMonster101> ...

<Iskall85> stress???

<StressMonster101> well i was finkin about it?

<Iskall85> you're insane

<Iskall85> go on then. girl's night

<StressMonster101> false! you coming?

<falsesymmetry> to get infected with lycanthropy?

<falsesymmetry> yeah, alright

<ZombieCleo> did i hear girls night?

<Iskall85> i take it back. we're ALL insane

<falsesymmetry> wait, this won't kill me, will it?

<Iskall85> yes??? what do you think turning into a werewolf is

<falsesymmetry> oh, better not risk it then

<Iskall85> only on the hermitcraft server

<hypnotizd> do NOT start without me

Ren blinks, and blinks again, and checks his claws, as though he might be able to tell which of his friends' blood is under them.

Girl's night. They're all transformed into hideous creatures of the night just like him because they thought it would be fun. And here he stands uncognizant of any of it.

He's gonna need to call another meeting.

(At sundown, though. Today is a writeoff for the vast majority of the neighbourhood. Worse than any hangover, trust me.)

[josephquinnswhore]

Fuckin’ Brat

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve had a bad day and taking it out on Joel leads to primitive measures to fix your attitude.

Word count: 0.6k

Warnings: swear words, reader having a mental breakdown I guess, Joel using pet names like angel, brat.

alternative thoughts to the other little blurb I posted about this pic. Bonus pic for better effect.

You were so fucking tired, so worn and aching and sweaty and irritated. The combination usually wouldn’t have been that much of an issue on a normal day; you were great at handling your emotions and worked through them like a champ.

Today things had fallen apart; a handful of otherwise tiny manageable things that all add up in what becomes a cluttered mess that accumulates like a fire hazard. The more things that go wrong; the more flammable you become.

And fuck you were about to blow up.

First it was Janice, the old hag from down the street, complaining about your dog, burnie, a well behaved border collie, he was a bit stupid sometimes; he liked to chase the birds that flew through her garden. That became a you issue. She was lucky he didn’t chase her.

Then, as you get to the hall to start volunteering for the lunch service, cooking for all the guys coming home from patrol; nothing had been started. No prep, no cooking. No cleaning. You roll up your sleeves and pick up the slack; because you’re a fucking people pleaser who can’t say no.

Lastly, you get home, just wanting to relax and read a chapter of your romance book. Only to find it had tea spilt all through it; the pages were now a damp shade of brown, soaked and completely ruined. Ellie had looked at it last night after showing some intrest, neglecting to put the precious book back onto its respective shelf.

Ellie said she’d clean up after herself, you understood she was just a teenager and she probably just forgot.

But you couldn’t help but just explode, it was the final fucking straw. The match that had lit the impending internal explosion.

In that exact moment your brain had decided to short circuit into a fit of rage, Joel walks through the door, walking snow all through the house as he sits on the lounge, groaning loudly.

“Couldn’t even take your fucking boots off at the door?” You scold angrily, gesturing to the mess he’d walked though the house.

Joel stopped untying his boots to look at you; he raises his eyebrow, giving you an unspoken warning.

Don’t speak to me like that again.

But you got the message, you just push further, knowing he would snap eventually.

“Thanks for letting the damn dog out this morning too, now Janice is on my fucking ass as always!” You grumble, starting to pace a little.

Joel stood off the lounge, bending at the knees a little so he’s more your height and he rested his palms on the top of his jeans on his thighs. His head was tilted as he watched you ramble, waiting for you to realise you’d fucked up.

“She’s that obsessed with you, she’s got to take her shit out on me, maybe you should just go over there and stuff her full of your co-“

Your rambling is cut short by a large hand roughly gripping your chin, your eyes widen at the sudden action and he jerks your face towards his, you stumble forward two steps. He doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“Fuckin’ finish that sentence, angel.” He growls lowly, warning you against it. He waits, looking at you expectantly.

You freeze, blinking dumbly at him. He hums.

“You really want me to go over there and stuff Janice full of my cock, huh? Show her what she’s missing, why she’s rightfully jealous of you?” His tone was husky. His eyes hadn’t left your own.

Your eyes water at the thought, your shoulders droop as you shake your head no.

“‘S what I thought. Listen to me real careful now, angel.” His voice is softer, but still demands that you comply with his orders.

He softens his grip on your chin, but still maintaining that eye contact.

“You’re gonna come sit on my lap, tell me what happened today, and you’re gonna stop being such a fuckin’ brat. Understand?”

You nod frantically, tears welling in your eyes, Joel knew you needed him to put you in place, to break you down so you’d stop pushing all your problems down to bury them. So you’d finally open up and embellish in the support you needed. He would listen, and help however he could.

“Repeat it, baby.” He orders firmly.

“I’m gonna sit on your lap and tell you why I’m upset..” You trail off for a moment. “And stop bein’ a brat.” You mumble.

Joel let’s go of your chin, sitting back down on the lounge where he pats his lap. You sit on your throne and cry to him; about everything that had happened.

He spends hours with you; in his arms, letting you cry and rant about all the stress you’d harboured. You were thankful for the stern and loving man that was Joel Miller.

[iaure]

𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁; 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗱

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟthe dearest collection - part one/beloved 𓆩♡𓆪 part two/prized 𓆩♡𓆪 part three/devoted 𓆩♡𓆪 part four/desperate 𓆩♡𓆪 part five/blind 𓆩♡𓆪 part six/watcher 𓆩♡𓆪 part seven/ardor 𓆩♡𓆪 part eight/fervor this is very heavily inspired by @//clusterfuck-yandere's yandere leon headcanons; please check out their works. this is something of a love letter to their puppy obsession series.

yandere leon s. kennedy headcanons; reader is a survivor of raccoon city.

tw: general yandere behaviour, stalking, harassment, ptsd, mentions of mourning

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ aaa i am so tired! i am sorry about the delay ૮꒰⸝⸝> ༝ <⸝⸝꒱ა work has been rough but i am tougher! there is another part planned already of which i am more excited about; it is another Leon pov!! next time he will have perversions...it will be somewhat nsfw! i am very excited about part four ☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა please keep an eye out! ♡

you'd been doing better.

♡ the days began to blur by as you repaired your life. work got easier, you started making friends, and you were picking up the pieces.

♡ your new friend Leon was, as always, a constant ray of light in your life. you had progressed into a blooming friendship!

♡ he was always so sweet, even going so far as to bring you gifts.

♡ for your birthday, he even got you a video game you had mentioned wanting off hand; a AAA game that cost 70$. not a cheap price for someone who you met at a bakery.

♡ when he gave it to you, you tried tell him it was too much-but he insisted, saying it was your birthday and that you deserved it.

♡ the thought made your heart jump, but you took the game.

♡ your coworker jokes that he's got a crush on you, and slowly, you're starting believe it.

♡ you'd seen times where you were working in the back, and leon would come in. he'd look around, realise you weren't in sight, and his mood would visibly plummet upon not seeing you.

♡ according to your coworker, he'll even straight up turn around and leave if you aren't working that day.

♡ as weird as it is, you think it's cute.

but recently, you've been having troubles.

♡ your apartment was maybe a five minute walk from your work, truthfully. you often just made the trek to save gas and get some exercise in.

♡ but you've been feeling eyes on you lately.

♡ it's a nagging feeling, and while it's only a five minute walk, you're back into that quiet terror you had back when K was in your life.

♡ you've been checking over your shoulder, hiding pepper spray in your pockets, and staying as alert as possible.

home was just as unnerving.

♡ before, the mourning had left your apartment as a bit of a mess. it was normal and fine, but now that you had work, you found yourself realising just how bad it had gotten.

♡ you made yourself a list of things to do, to chip away at and celebrate each time something was done.

♡ but in the last week or two, that list has been checking itself off.

♡ parts of your apartment has been cleaner. the sink full of dishes washed themselves. your bathroom was wiped down. your bed was made, pillows fluffed and sheets taut. laundry, for the most part, was transferred from washer to drier while you were gone.

♡ 'for the most part' was because some garments were going missing; used towels, your favourite shirt, undergarments.

♡ they turn up again, but it's always some time later and with new stains or portions torn away.

♡ needless to say, you were freaked out.

♡ you had sent a request to get your lock changed to your super, but it was taking just too long.

♡ your paranoia skyrocketed. was it K? was it possible there was a gas leak and you were having memory loss? what was the most reasonable thing that could answer this?

♡ your mind is reeling, and it's been progressively getting worse until one night at work.

♡ you were closing up, and leon was there, keeping you company. was he supposed to be there after close? perhaps not, but he was your friend and he never did anything wrong; just watched you clean up with his head in his hands and a sappy smile.

♡ you had looked out into the windows, and the darkness outside was...so much. it was raining hard, and the night was absolute. anything could happen in a five minute walk. what if K was out there?

♡ you had paused, and leon saw. his voice was soft, kind, as he walked up and held your hand. "is something wrong?", he said.

♡ you told him only a bit about what was going on, the bare minimum so he knew that you didn't feel safe.

♡ his face contorted-shock, fear, worry-but he kept on listening, and he looked so sympathetic to your plight, almost like a kicked puppy.

♡ you then have a great idea. Leon was strong and brave. could he possibly walk you home?

♡ at your asking, Leon lights up. were he a dog, his tail would be wagging.

♡ "I'll be your knight in shining armour," he says. and you believe it.

♡ when you close the shop, he's right behind you, carrying his gym bag in one arm and your umbrella in the other. he takes care to cover you with it, but it's not until you turn that you realise he's already drenched.

♡ he waves it off, joking that it's a shower.

♡ you feel bad, but when you try to insist on sharing it, he tosses you a pout that breaks your heart. damn you, heartthrob!

♡ he keeps on looking around during the walk to your apartment, as though you're about to get jumped at any moment. as strange as it seemed, you appreciated how vigilant he was.

♡ for once, you felt safe. there were no eyes on you besides Leon's careful, kind gaze. this was the most comforted you'd been in...a while.

♡ when you get to your apartment, the rain had doubled down, forcing the two of you to ditch the umbrella and run under the roof of the first floor, laughing as Leon shook the rain off like a dog.

♡ when you finally get to your apartment, your joy dissolves into fear. your stomach churns at the idea that K might be inside, trying to wait out Leon.

♡ you turn to Leon, and before you find it in you to say good night, you look him over.

♡ he looks a little bit like a puppy left out in the rain, in a cardboard box. he's happy to see you, sad that you're leaving, drenched, and giving you big, sad eyes.

let's be honest.

♡ were you going to say good night, giving Leon no reward for his kind act and potentially walking right into your potential stalker's arms?

♡ or were you going to invite him in, getting Leon some food and thanking him as well as hypothetically warding off K?

♡ when you asked him to come in, he practically did a jig. was he really that excited to see the inside of your apartment?

♡ he's a polite guest, which isn't surprising. he took off his shoes, set his bag by the door, and tried to dry off the best he could before sitting on your couch.

♡ you began digging around, trying to see what you had that would be moderately okay for a guest to eat, silently grateful that your home had been cleaning itself up.

♡ you turn every now and then to speak with Leon, and each time, he moves a step closer to you, giving you the most devoted look.

♡ it makes your heart pound, but you can't let it distract you.

♡ you finally give up, electing to order a pizza of Leon's choice, which ends up being your choice when he tells you to order your favourite.

♡ "I wanna know more about you!", he says.

♡ you pay for it, since he helped you, but he tries to help pay. when you refuse, he makes a small noise of what was presumably discontent, but he lets it go.

♡ while you're waiting for the pizza, you begin to confess your concerns with your home, about the cleaning and how items seem to be shuffling about of their own will.

♡ Leon's first guess, much like yours, was a gas leak. but he agrees, after a moment, that you should change your locks anyway.

♡ the conversation changed direction multiple times, going with the flow. Leon was a great listener, and every time you list something you like or hate, you can see him filing it away in his head.

♡ the rain gets harder, and the night gets longer.

♡ the pizza was delivered, and you two begin eating when-unceremoniously and without warning-the power went out. you could see off in the distance it wasn't just your apartment complex; it was a sizable chunk of the block you were on.

♡ there was a beat of silence between the two of you as you realised what happened.

♡ you got up to light some candles as Leon ran over to the door, fishing out a flashlight he had on him, for whatever reason.

♡ he passed it off to you, with a small frown. "I guess that's my cue to go," he said. his voice was low, upset at having your time together cut short. he was still a little wet, and it just made him look...a bit pathetic, to be honest.

♡ as you began to ask him if he was going to be okay in the rain, he mentioned that he lived thirty minutes from his gym, which was ten minutes from the bakery, which was five minutes from your apartment...

♡ which meant a miserable fifteen minutes spent in the rain and another 30 spent being cold and wet in the car.

no, you insisted-he could stay the night, if he wanted to wait out the rain.

♡ over the course of the night, you've come to realise a handful of things. one, Leon was sweet. two, he also got excited over what seemed to be the littlest things.

♡ his jaw dropped when you offered him to stay, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. it was as though you'd fulfilled his biggest wish and had ultimately become his saviour.

♡ you gave him some clothes to change into that once belonged to your brother-it's not like he'd wear them anymore-and instructed him to the bathroom.

♡ he found it in record time as you yourself got changed, ready to go to bed and wait out the power outage.

♡ when he stepped out, he had evidently dried down his hair with a towel that had been hanging in your bathroom, and looked at you with big eyes. he had also evidently decided to sleep on the couch, using a blanket from his bag (which you've decided to call his wonderbag, considering everything he pulls from it).

♡ you gave him two more, just to make sure he was comfortable, before wishing him good night.

♡ all was well. you were safe, you were home, and you could sleep.

♡ it wasn't until maybe two or three in the morning that you woke up to a nigh horrifying sight.

Leon was standing at the foot of your bed, staring at you.

♡ you let out a bit of a gasp, still too sleepy to realise really how strange it was. you asked him what he was doing, and his voice...how small it felt.

♡ "I thought you were gone."

♡ your heart breaks. god, Leon really was whipped. if even you could tell at that point, then it must've been some cupid-arrow shenanigans that got him this bad.

♡ in your haze, you just want to go back to sleep. so you pat the empty side of your bed, rolling over and shoving your head into your pillow.

♡ leon takes a second. he registers.

♡ "Do you want me to...sleep with you?"

♡ his awe is palpable. he asks twice, then thrice, each time with you answering with a nod until you ultimately just repeat him in your own voice.

♡ he climbs in and you realise he'd be trailing the blankets you gave him behind him, pulling them over the both of you when he got into the bed.

♡ there's a moment or two where he's just staring at you again, and you open your eyes with a soft smile. you tell him to get to bed.

♡ and you shut your eyes, sure that wherever K was, they were far, far away.

♡ ...did Leon just get closer?

[rebouks]

Wyatt was relieved upon reaching the safety of the next plateau; he’d underestimated Brynn, subsequently setting off unprepared for such an ascent. The climb was as treacherous as he’d warned but they’d made it – just about – and thankfully, she didn’t seem intent on going any further.

As soon as she’d safely scrambled her way onto the ledge, she’d headed for the outlook over the valley below, drawn like a moth to a flame. Wyatt half expected her to drag him with her to enjoy the view, or throw her arms wide and laugh, rejoicing in her accomplishment for the day, perhaps even rub it in his face that she’d made it this far. But she hadn’t done any of that. Instead, she’d stared in silence, lost in her own world; until eventually, she sank to the ground and cried. It wasn’t a soft, quiet sob either. It was deep, guttural, and full of pain, echoing through the emptiness below.

Parked beneath a gnarled tree with his arms folded, Wyatt thought she might have forgotten he was here. He didn’t exactly know Brynn, but he hadn’t expected this; she always seemed so mischievously upbeat. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was adept at maintaining a certain visage-.. maybe that was why he’d found it so difficult to read her; she was wearing a mask. He couldn’t know for sure without asking what was wrong but he didn’t particularly feel like intruding. It didn’t feel right.

He could barely remember the last time he’d cried, but he remembered the way his father had vehemently chastised him for it, despite the fact that he was a mere child at the time. Of course, he’d realised over the years that men felt the same emotions as women, and had just as much right to express them; but it was too late. Try as he might, he couldn’t shed a single tear. He hadn’t cried when his father died, or his mother, or when he’d left Darien behind-.. or countless other times he’d felt like weeping. He found himself wondering how long it’d been since Brynn had cried like this. Was it a regular thing, or was it a rare occurrence he’d accidentally fallen privy to? It was easy to assume the latter, given the depth of her appeared anguish. You could only hold onto your grief for so long without breaking.

Shivering, Wyatt’s teeth began to chatter involuntarily, distracting him from his sprawling thoughts. The wind had picked up considerably since their arrival; they ought to get going before they got stuck up here for the night and froze to “freedom”.

“We should probably head back before it gets dark…” he said, tentatively approaching her.

Brynn nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she struggled to her feet. It’d gotten cold since the sun began to set; he wasn’t surprised she’d stiffened up.

“Are you-…”

“I am sorry you had to witness that-.. is not normal.” She interrupted.

Brynn frowned apologetically as Wyatt shrugged it off, gesturing for her to take the lead instead. He was almost tempted to ask if she meant normal in general, or normal for her, but he didn’t.

Staring out over the precipice, Wyatt hesitated, struck with the sudden realisation that he hadn’t enjoyed watching Brynn cry. Peoples tears usually entertained him for multiple reasons; either he had caused them - which always produced an odd sense of gratification – or perhaps their face contorted in such a way that made him want to laugh, or it was over something ridiculous and pathetic which was equally fun to observe-.. then there were the classic crocodile tears, especially hilarious if they didn’t work, which they rarely did with him. As wrong as it was, Wyatt couldn’t help it, watching people cry was fun-.. at least, it usually was. He’d analysed Brynn the same as he would’ve with anyone else, but he hadn’t found it amusing in the slightest.

“Do you have parachute?” Brynn called over her shoulder as she trudged through the snow.

Wyatt snorted. “No.”

“Come on then!” she tittered.

There was that laugh again…

Previous // Next

[bridenore]

HD fic recs - disability (physical) / illness

Here are a few drarry fic recs where either Harry or Draco is suffering from a physical disability or an illness, whether it is permanent or temporary. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl [114k]

Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by @firethesound [21k]

Nothing about being the Chosen One had prepared Harry for this. With most of the population blinded and man-eating plants running amok, he can only stay close to his friends as they make their way to safety. Not that he’d call Malfoy a friend, but the end of the world does rather make their ongoing feud seem trivial. And it just figures that it took nothing short of an apocalypse to make Malfoy seem like less of a git.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 [91k]

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

Beds, Knobs, and Broomsticks by @fencer-x​ [46k]

A long-term mission to the Baltics that will take him far away from London sounds like the perfect time to cash in the embarrassing ‘Butler in the Buff’ coupon Harry received as a birthday gag gift—until Harry winds up injured in the field and sent home to recover three days into the mission, obliging him to endure one full month of inappropriate attentions from horny housekeeper Draco Malfoy.

Double Edged Sword by @romaine2424  [554k]

Harry thinks his life has been planned out, but the night he comes of age changes everything.  Now there are decisions to be made and a path to be chosen, and the choices before him will change the lives of everyone he knows.  But when destiny calls, Harry finds himself ready to listen. This is an epic story of the love between Harry and Draco.  Join them as they journey through their life together, through the good times and the bad, facing obstacles both external and internal, and see how they come to be who they were meant to be.

fly like paper, high like planes by @harryromper [47k]

Harry Potter, Head Coach of the Appleby Arrows, is very content leading a quiet life. He has a doddery old house-elf who makes his breakfast, a team of players who love Quidditch almost as much as he does, and a Kneazle that curls against his damaged leg at the foot of his bed at night. The absolute last thing he needs is a fit, tattooed, and wildly talented Draco Malfoy back from living his life on the margins. Soon he’s dealing with goblins for the first time since the war, traveling to Prague, eating dodgy squid, and maybe, just maybe, accepting that Quidditch, Malfoy, and even Harry himself are still capable of change.

A Fruit Tree in Winter by bryoneybrynn [29k]

After failing in his task of killing Dumbledore, life doesn’t go as Draco expected. Sometimes just surviving takes everything you’ve got. And sometimes healing is something you can’t do alone. Story goes AU/AR from the end of Half-Blood Prince.

Hades Paradox by @romaine2424 [32k]

For reasons unknown to most, Draco Malfoy came to Hogwarts soon after the battle and for five years had never left its premises. Auror Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts to deal with his psychological daemons, but soon realises Professor Draco Malfoy has his own magical and physical daemons to deal with. However, much to Harry’s surprise, Draco is coping well with help from the person Harry aspires to be.

The Homecoming of Harry Potter by @vaysh11 [5k]

Harry Potter returns to Britain after four years of exile. He is accompanied by his lover and friend, the young man who brought down Voldemort.

I dream of you, to wake by @harryromper [13k]

“Typically coma patients are made comfortable and left to regain consciousness in their own time,“ Draco points out carefully.  “Typically, yes. But when has anything about Harry been typical.” Hermione sighs, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her hand. “The Healer-in-Charge has consulted with experts at all the major wizarding hospitals. They all agree. Whatever’s happening inside of Harry’s head right now is killing him.” Draco Malfoy is a world-renowned dream-walker, and he may be Harry Potter’s only hope.

Kaleidoscope by Saras_Girl [104k]

If Harry’s honest, the last thing he needs is a house full of Draco Malfoy, but partners are partners, and perhaps, the thing he wants the least will turn out to be absolutely everything.

Match Fit by  @ravenclawsquill  [25k]

After picking up a groin injury just two weeks before the Quidditch World Cup Final, star Seeker Harry Potter reluctantly agrees to seek help from world-renowned Magi-Physiotherapist, Draco Malfoy. Cue sexual tension, naked sports massages, inappropriate erections and a healthy dose of acid-green lycra.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by @lordhellebore [82k]

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

Oh, Sinnerman by @lou-isfake and @babooshkart [40k]

“I’m serious, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “That was some real bad luck you had, being there last night. They will come after you, and they will kill you—after torturing you for information on my whereabouts.” He pocketed Harry’s wand, but held on to his knife, twirling it between his fingers. Harry was distracted by its movement, the reflections of the bright, dawning sun on polished silver. “I’m not happy about it, either, but you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”   He watched Malfoy’s face for a long time, in a staring contest he wasn’t sure he’d signed up for. Stuck with Malfoy, for the foreseeable future, on the run from a massive crime syndicate that had infiltrated the Ministry and was out for their blood.  It was all very familiar, except for the Malfoy part.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier [33k]

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone by Azhure [560k]

A set of enchanted journals bring solace to two very unlikely lost   souls. Whoever said the art of penmanship was lost? This is a wizarding twist on the old fashioned art of correspondence (or the modern art of Internet chatting). What will happen when the mystery writers finally   discover the identity of their counterpart? Join this star crossed pair as they obliviously chat to each other; along the way learning about   life and love. Find out what will happen when their own voyages of self discovery lead them to the most unlikely of places. This is eventual   HP/DM, but other pairings for the protagonists along their journey.

Renaissance by @dysonrules [33k]

Harry awakens after a long sleep to find things terribly changed. He’s not in an alternate universe… it just seems like it.

Turn by Saras_Girl [306k]

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Unkissed Kisses and Songs Never Sung by @femmequixotic [12k]

I sit silently in the shadows, staring at the tiny, pulsing ball of light that tells me my Harry’s still alive.

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime [23k]

Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[beth--b]

Steve was working his way through putting the returns away on the shelves at Family Video. He was also counting down the hours until his shift was over. It was his last shift of the week before he had two days off, and he intended on spending as much of that time as possible with Eddie.

Eddie, who had been away with the rest of the Corroded Coffin boys for the last two weeks.

Eddie, his boyfriend, who he missed far more than was probably healthy.

They had spoken a few times in those two weeks, mostly Eddie griping about one of the other guys snoring in the shitty motel rooms they had been staying in. There had been a few late night calls where Eddie was clearly just getting back from a gig that had gone well though, the sheer joy and excitement in Eddie’s voice on those calls made the time apart worthwhile.

Despite being happy for Eddie and his friends for putting themselves out there and trying to get more of a following for their band, it had not been the easiest time for Steve.

Find it here on ao3

In the six months since Vecna’s defeat and Eddie’s miraculous survival after almost being torn apart by demobats, the pair had grown steadily closer. Three months ago they had admitted their feelings to one another and within the last six weeks they had been sleeping in the same bed almost every night. So two weeks of sleeping alone had Steve feeling exhausted and run down. The nightmares that had dwindled, or at least seemed easier to cope with when waking to find Eddie beside him, were back in full force and he had woken up to more than one panic attack in the two week’s Eddie had been gone. While he couldn’t wait to see Eddie and kiss him and do all sorts of things with his boyfriend that he probably shouldn’t think about while working, he truly just longed to be held in Eddie’s arms as they fell asleep.

After fourteen days of minimal sleep and feeling generally awful, when he began to feel more unwell than he had previously he ignored it. He shrugged off the mild nausea he had been feeling all day, putting it down to needing to sleep and probably eat something more substantial than a microwave dinner, and pushed through his shift. The sooner the day was done, the sooner he’d be with Eddie.

Finally 4pm came and Keith showed up to take over for the rest of the afternoon and evening and Steve was out of there.

He sat in his car only to realise that he and Eddie hadn’t had a chance to work out whether they were staying at Eddie’s or Steve’s tonight.

“Fuck it,” Steve muttered to himself, turning the key to start the car and pulling out of the parking space. He would head over to Eddie and Wayne’s two bedder that the government had coughed up for as compensation for Eddie being accused of murder, and worst case scenario he’d head home if Eddie wasn’t there and maybe he could at least leave a message with Eddie’s uncle.

To his relief, Eddie’s van was out the front and Steve pulled up behind him, putting the car in park and turning the engine off.

He hadn’t even opened his door and Eddie was already opening his front door and waving to Steve.

“Hey Stevie! Miss me?” Eddie called, walking towards the beemer.

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin.

“Now, why I would I have missed you Eds? You been gone or something?” he replied as he got out of the car. His smile fell for a moment as he felt an ache in his guts as he stood. Before he could think about it Eddie had slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders and was leading him into the house.

“You wound me Stevie!” Eddie put his free hand to his chest and threw his head back. “To think, you didn’t even know I was gone! For shame!” Eddie continued to sigh dramatically until they were in the house.

Eddie entered slightly ahead of Steve and once the door was closed behind them he quickly turned and braced both hands against the door, effectively trapping Steve.

“Hey baby,” Eddie said softly before pressing himself against Steve and kissing him, Steve practically melting into the kiss as Eddie moved one hand away from the door and cupped Steve’s cheek instead.

They spent long moments just kissing each other, relearning the taste and feel of one another's mouths and teeth and tongues, before they finally pulled away for air.

“Of course I missed you,” Steve finally whispered, lips pressing against Eddie’s once more, less urgency and more soft sweetness this time.

Eddie just groaned and buried his head against Steve’s neck when they finally pulled apart once more.

“Alright come and sit,” Eddie finally said once he had a proper look at Steve. “You look exhausted sweetheart. Long day?”

Steve shrugged but followed Eddie over to the couch anyway.

“Kinda, I guess I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

Eddie pulled Steve down onto the couch beside him and wrapped an arm around Steve. Too tired to fight it and still not feeling well Steve just let himself be tugged against Eddie’s side and lay his head on the metalhead’s shoulder.

“Alright well how about you sit here with me for a while and just relax, close your eyes for a little if you like. We can see what’s on the tele and have an easy evening yeah? Wayne’s already gone to work so we have the place to ourselves. I can make us some food a little later too if you’re hungry.”

Steve shifted further into Eddie’s embrace, wincing a little as the movement made the pain his middle flare. He ducked his head to hide his face, not wanting Eddie to worry further. If he didn’t know better he’d have assumed that Eddie would be disappointed in Steve feeling under the weather and would have tried to fake it so they could have a nice date night. He knew his boyfriend well though and Eddie would be more upset if Steve lied about feeling up to something he wasn’t and not taking care of himself, than about having to have an easy night.

Once he was comfortable Steve relaxed and let the tension of the last two weeks slowly leave him. Eddie was slowly rubbing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, the motion soothing him further. Before he could even pay attention to what was playing on the small T.V. Steve was asleep.

______________________________________

He woke up what must have been at least a couple of hours later to Eddie saying his name softly and mumbled something incoherent in reply once he became aware enough. He felt both better and worse than before. He was no longer so tired he felt he might drop from sheer exhaustion but the pain in his stomach was worse, the ache spreading across to his side more now than it was earlier. He was cold too but at least Eddie felt warm along one side of him.

“Sorry baby, I didn’t want to wake you but I think we should eat something and then you can get some more sleep. Feel like anything in particular?”

Still half asleep Steve just groaned and shook his head.

“Aw come on Stevie. How about I just make some grilled cheese? Won’t take long and then we can get back to snuggling and you can sleep, ok?”

Steve really didn’t want to eat. He felt sick and he was hurting. He didn’t want to upset Eddie, or make him worry over what was surely nothing so he just agreed, Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead and as he pulled away he stopped to look him over rather than heading to the small kitchen to make their dinner.

“Are you feeling alright? I know you said you hadn’t been sleeping well but you feel kinda warm. Are you sure you aren’t getting sick?”

Eddie looked so genuinely concerned that Steve wanted nothing more than to ease his worry.

“Hey yeah I’m ok. I’m just tired, not too hungry either so grilled cheese sounds fine. Thanks Eds.”

With one last worried look Eddie stood up and went to make dinner.

Steve settled back into the couch in Eddie’s absence and the ache in his side only seemed to grow worse. Before he realised he was doing it he found himself holding his right side and curling in on himself.

Eddie came back to find Steve huddled up on the couch shivering slightly with his hands pressed to his side.

“Stevie? What’s wrong?”

Steve looked up at Eddie standing in front of him with a plate in each hand and tried to straighten up, but instead found himself wincing in pain at the movement. He knew Eddie had seen and there was no point in lying.

“Sorry, guess I’m not feeling the greatest after all. I”m sure it’s nothing, just been a crappy week and I’m a little run down. Let’s eat, yeah?”

Eddie sat down beside Steve, handing him one of the plates. “Alright, but tell me if you start to feel worse.”

Steve took the plate and sat it in his lap, straightening up as much as he could. “Of course. Some food and some sleep and I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

They ate in relative silence until Eddie finished and then he started to tell Steve about his time away. Steve made all the right, encouraging noises and said the right words but he was struggling to eat. He was happy to let Eddie lead the conversation while he picked at the sandwich on his plate. As the conversation went on he was feeling steadily worse and by the time he had forced down half his dinner he was dangerously close to throwing it right back up. He tried to ignore it, sipping at some water that Eddie had gone to get them both once his own food was finished. He felt himself shiver a little and almost dropped his plate. Eddie stopped mid sentence and grabbed the plate before it could fall with one hand, reaching out to steady Steve with the other.

By this stage Steve had broken out into goosebumps while his face felt far too hot. The nausea was building to a point where he could no longer ignore it and before Eddie could speak Steve was bolting off the couch and to the bathroom. He barely made it in time, dropping hurriedly to his knees, the pain of hitting the tiles secondary to the sharp pain rippling through his side as he threw up his meagre dinner.

Eddie was there moments later, running a cool cloth over the back of Steve’s neck as he continued to heave long after there was nothing left to bring up.

When he was finally done Eddie’s hands were on him, pulling Steve away from the toilet and helping him to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Gentle hands brushed his now sweaty hair from his face and pressed against his forehead before the cloth that had been pressed to his neck was used to help wipe his face. They sat in silence until Steve finally felt able to move and then Eddie hurried to his feet so he could help Steve to stand. With the toilet flushed, hands washed and teeth brushed Steve let himself lean into Eddie, the older boy helping him to the bedroom.

“Well I think it’s safe to say you’re sick baby,” Eddie finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them for the last few minutes.

“I guess. Sorry, I should go home, don’t want to get you sick,” Steve wanted nothing more than to stay. He hadn’t had anyone to take care of him in such a long time but it wasn’t fair to Eddie.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t going anywhere Steve. Now let’s get that cute little butt of yours into bed and I will get you some water and a bucket just in case we have a repeat performance. No arguments. Just rest, I will take care of everything else.”

Too sick and tired to argue, Steve just let himself be led to Eddie’s bed.

“Now, you seem to have a fever as well as nausea. Anything else wrong?” Eddie asked once Steve was situated in bed.

“Stomach hurts, but that explains the whole puking my guts up. Otherwise I’m just tired. Promise.”

Eddie stared at him before nodding, seemingly satisfied with Steve’s answer. “Alright, well I will see if we have some tylenol for your fever and we just need to keep you hydrated. Hopefully this is just some 24 hour bug.”

Sure enough Eddie managed to find something to help with the fever and some water to take it with. Once medication had been taken Eddie helped Steve change into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Eddie quickly changed as well, plaid pj bottoms and a black shirt so worn out he only used it for sleep. Clothes changed, he got a bucket and put it beside the bed, got a fresh glass of water and then turned the light out and climbed into bed with Steve.

“You don’t have to come to bed yet Eds, it’s like eight at night.”

“Closer to nine now honey but I want to be with you. It was great spending time with Gareth and the guys and we met some awesome people but I missed you. I sleep better with you too Stevie so I think we should just call it a night alright?”

Too tired to argue, Steve just nodded sleepily and let himself be pulled into Eddie’s arms. He was asleep within minutes.

___________________________

Sometime during the night Steve woke up, side throbbing and feeling so sick he hardly made it to the bucket beside the bed, nevermind the bathroom. He was immensely thankful for Eddie’s forethought, or he would have been if he wasn’t so busy throwing up to think about it.

Eddie woke up moments after Steve had dropped to the floor. “Shit, Steve you alright? Of course not, fuckin’ stupid question,” he was half asleep and worried and the words just kept coming.

Just like earlier in the bathroom Eddie knelt beside Steve on the floor trying to soothe him through his dry heaves. Eddie rubbed Steve’s back and began to whisper comforting nonsense to Steve until Steve spat into the bucket one last time and moved back from it and into Eddie, trembling with fever and exhaustion.

“Fuck baby you’re burning,” Eddie said with a wince. “Let’s get some water and I’ll see if you can take some more tylenol yeah? Just gotta check the time first, don’t want to give you too much.”

Steve was too out of it to really answer but he tried to nod and hoped Eddie understood.

Eddie got up first and flicked on the bedside lamp, before helping Steve up off the floor and back into bed. Steve cried out at the movement, hand clutching his side and almost crumpling back to the floor.

“Fuck!” Eddie cursed as he grabbed hold of Steve, keeping him upright as much as possible. Steve's eyes were closed, a few tears escaping, and Eddie wiped them away with one hand while keeping the other arm wrapped around his waist. Steve finally tried to get his feet back under him and Eddie helped him back to the bed. "Alright, shit. Ok, Stevie you with me?"

Steve just groaned as he dropped down onto the bed, trying to lay back on the pillow but instead more or less collapsing where he fell.

"So-sorry Eds," Steve finally managed to get out, teeth chattering like it was the depths of winter rather than just the beginning of fall. He had never been in this kind of pain before while sick. He'd been beaten and chewed up by bats but this was different. He just felt wrong and he wanted it to stop.

Eddie leaned down to kiss Steve's burning cheek before pulling away. "Nothing to be sorry for. Now I need to go check the time and see if we can get you more meds. I'll be right back."

Before Steve could even try to think to reply Eddie was gone. Steve pressed a hand to his side, the pain growing steadily worse until he couldn't think of anything else. His side felt tender but kind of hard. He felt so sick but the fever made it hard to think.

When Eddie came back he had more tylenol and a damp cloth which he put on the bedside table while he helped Steve sit up. Steve cried out before biting his lip at the movement, the pain almost enough to make him throw up again though he was sure there was nothing left to throw up at this point.

"Come on baby, let's get these meds into you and some more water and try to sleep. It's almost 3am, Wayne will be back soon and in the morning we can go see a doctor if you aren't any better."

Steve lay his head against Eddie's shoulder, letting his boyfriend help hold the pills to his mouth followed by the water. Steve was fairly sure he'd have dropped the glass if he had tried to hold it. As it was he could hardly lift his head to take the tablets he was given.

"This sucks Eds, hurts and I-I don't wanna get you sick," Steve was crying, he had been freezing only moments ago and now he felt like he was on fire. He tried tugging at the shirt he was wearing but Eddie just grabbed his hands and moved them away from his clothing.

"I know it sucks but there is no way in hell I'm leaving you alone like this. You ready to lay back down?"

"Think so," Steve muttered. Eddie manoeuvred them back onto the bed properly, Steve's burning forehead pressed against Eddie’s collar bone as more hot tears fell and dripped onto Eddie's skin.

Steve slipped into a fitful doze and Eddie lay beside him just holding him. They didn't get much of a reprieve before Steve sat up again with a moan, Eddie grabbed for the bucket that he had emptied while organising more meds for Steve and just managed to get the younger man upright enough to throw up into the bucket rather than the bed. Not that there was anything coming up but bile at this stage along with a little water.

Steve was clutching his side now and was too out of it to do anything but lay back down as soon as he was done. Eddie got up and emptied the bucket once again before hurrying back to Steve's side. He got as far as putting the bucket beside the bed before he heard the front door opening. Eddie took one more glance at his pale, trembling boyfriend who was once more curled up on the bed holding his side and hurried out to find his uncle.

"Eddie? What are you doing up son?" Wayne asked, surprised to see his nephew awake at just past 3am. It wasn't unheard of, but he didn’t usually look so upset.

"It's Steve, he's really sick Wayne. I thought I'd just get him to a doctor in the morning but he's not getting any better…he actually seems worse," Eddie was tugging at his hair and pacing the small living area until Wayne put a hand on Eddie's shoulder to stop him.

"Alright, what kind of sick are we talking 'bout?" Wayne's brow was furrowed with concern.

"Um well…he said he was tired at first, he had a nap when he got here, but then after dinner he threw up and he had a fever. Said his stomach hurt which made sense, what with the puking and all…he threw up again about an hour ago and his fever seemed super high. He crashed out but then he just woke up and was sick again, he's holding his side like it hurts and he's still burning up. What do I do Uncle Wayne?" Eddie was starting to cry as he spoke, getting more and more worked up.

“Sounds like we might need to take a trip to the emergency room with him. Let me see him and we can go from there. Stay here and give yourself a moment. You’re no good to anyone if you’re panicking Eddie,” Wayne gave Eddie’s shoulder one last comforting squeeze and quickly headed to the bedroom to check on Steve.

Steve was laying on the bed curled in on himself and crying softly. Everything hurt but especially his side. He didn’t feel like he could move but he was starting to feel sick again, not that he thought there was anything to come up but more burning bile. He was so hot and he could feel himself sweating through his clothes but it was more effort that he could manage to take anything off. Eddie would help, except when he opened his eyes to look for his boyfriend he couldn’t see him anywhere. The hall light was on though and he tried to call out only what came out was a pained moan.

Then Wayne was there, pressing a calloused hand to his sweaty brow. He was asking Steve questions and he tried his best to answer.

“Where does it hurt Steve?” Wayne was asking.

Steve tried to answer but just pressed his hand against his aching side and hoped Wayne understood. Gently hands pulled his own away from the source of his pain and felt around the area, Steve crying out as the pain got worse when Wayne’s hands moved away.

Wayne muttered something to himself and then before Steve could really comprehend what was happening Eddie was back and he was trying to help Steve to sit up. Steve shook his head, tears falling unchecked as he tried to pull away from Eddie. He didn’t want to move, he couldn’t move.

“Sorry baby but we need to get to the hospital. This might hurt,” Eddie explained, his voice shaky as he tried to suppress his own tears. Then Eddie was lifting Steve and Wayne was there to help as well and somehow they made it to Wayne’s truck.

Steve didn’t really remember the trip to the hospital but he did finally become aware of what was going on when he was helped out of the car and taken through to the emergency department. He was quickly taken from Eddie and Wayne,settled into a bed and given some morphine. The drugs helped ease the pain enough that he was coherent again and then doctors were explaining to him that he was going for surgery to have his appendix removed.

Eddie and Wayne came into the room and the doctor left them briefly, presumably to start preparing the surgery.

“Hey Stevie, how are you doing now?” Eddie asked, grabbing hold of Steve’s hand, carefully avoiding the IV line that had been inserted when he’d arrived.

“Hmm they gave me morphine Eds, it’s helped but I’m still sore,” Steve whined a little and Eddie pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“I know, but they are gonna take your appendix out and then it won’t hurt you anymore. You can stay with Wayne and I while you recover, right Uncle Wayne?” Eddie glanced at his uncle and Wayne nodded at the pair of them.

“Of course, you’re always welcome Steve. Come on now Eddie, they'll be here to take him to surgery shortly. Say goodbye for now and you can see him later.”

With one more quick kiss, this time pressed to Steve’s lips, Eddie pulled away and left the room with Wayne.

Before too long a nurse came and got him ready for surgery, then Steve was in theatre with a mask over his face and counting backwards from one hundred.

The next time he opened his eyes he was in a different hospital room with Eddie on one side of him, holding his hand and Wayne snoring softly in a chair on the other side of the bed.

Eddie became aware of Steve looking after only a few moments and gave him a warm smile before sighing with relief.

“Hey baby, good to see you awake. You are now appendix free and will have a shiny new scar to commemorate the event. Now, let’s never repeat this again, yeah?”

Steve smiled sleepily, he was pretty sure he was still on some painkillers because he couldn’t really feel anything and felt better than he had in days.

“Hmm pretty sure you only have one appendix Eds.”

“Oh that’s how it is, first words outta your mouth and they are to mock me!”

Steve just gripped Eddie’s hand tighter in his own and tried to pull the older boy down towards him on the bed, Eddie gave up on the dramatics and moved in to press his forehead against Steve’s.

“Please don’t scare me like that again?” Eddie whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he spoke.

“Promise I’ll try,” Steve whispered back.

“That’s all you can do baby. Now, I better let the nurse know you’re awake,” Eddie pulled away reluctantly to press the call button before starting to ramble at Steve asking far too many questions for his still drowsy mind to even think about answering. “Are you hurting at all? Hungry? You haven’t eaten in a while and you threw everything up so I guess you might be?”

Despite the drug induced sleep of the last few hours he was exhausted so Steve just let Eddie fuss over him and closed his eyes. He was alright, Eddie was there and Wayne was nearby. Everything was going to be fine now.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running From The Flames {Epilogue 1/2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: parenting - that should be a warning lmao, sexual themes

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Epilogue 2/2

There was only one word to describe my life and that word was: chaotic. That being said, I still wouldn’t change it for the world.

The family calendar on the fridge was completely full and colour coded so we could all see where we were needed on any given day. Even so, I still lost track of my husband or our kids at least once a week. 

“Sydney, honey, have you seen your father?” I asked the spitting image of Pierre who was in the race simulator. He was always in the machine, practising for his upcoming debut into Formula 4 now that he had turned 15 and could move up from karting. 

“Picking up Addie from the airport.” He barely looked away from the triplet of screens in front of him as he answered with all the attitude of a teenage boy being interrupted in life. “It’s on the fridge.”

I looked at the calendar and realised I was looking at the completely wrong day. “Shit.”

“Ha,” he laughed loudly as he navigated the virtual track of the Red Bull Ring. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said as I scanned over the correct day and saw I had a board meeting to prepare for tomorrow. “I just thought it was Tuesday today.”

“Whatever you say, maman. You can tell me I’m your favourite, I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t have a favourite, I love you all equally. Now, can you finish that game and go do your homework? You still need to pack your bag for the weekend too.”

Addie was coming home from London for the week, taking a little break from her own busy schedule, to watch Sydney’s first race with us in Austria. 

It had been difficult to let her leave home at 18 but she had worked hard to get a place in the Arsenal Women’s Under 21 team. I had left home at the same age and Pierre had left even earlier, so we were hardly the exemplary figures to deny her. All we could do was make sure she stayed safe and she knew she could call either of us 24/7 if she needed help. It was also never that long between visits, making plenty of stopovers in England as we travelled. 

The travelling for work was tiresome but so far we had yet to miss a football match on Saturday or a karting race on Sunday. It did help being our own bosses so Pierre and I could manage our schedule around the kids. He had been running Strauss Fashion for the better part of the last ten years, after Granny finally retired properly, while I had been the Chief Technical Officer at Alpine, which Grandpa had purchased. 

When Harry passed away three years ago I found myself suddenly thrust into the ownership of the team and though there were plenty of offers to sell it, I decided to take the leap of faith and see where the journey would take me. I hadn’t looked back and so far we had two Constructors' Championship wins with our seasoned pilots, Gabriele Minì and Oliver Bearman.

We had come so far, it was hard to believe until I saw the wisps of grey hairs among the dark strands. 

“Maman!” I was pulled from my reminiscence and looked at my watch to realise how quickly the afternoon had gotten away from me as Clare bounded through the front door and leapt into my arms. “Maman, look!”

Clare had been a wonderful surprise that completed our family two years ago. After Sydney’s unexpected and frightening early arrival Pierre had been reluctant to try for another child, though he had always wanted three. I thought maybe he would change his mind after the terrifying memory faded with time but then a few years passed, we both got caught up in work, and after that it seemed too hard to imagine returning to sleepless nights with a newborn. 

But, the universe had other plans for us. What I thought was a long-enduring hangover, after celebrating the rebranding of Alpine into Gasly Racing, actually turned out to be morning sickness. Those final weeks before her birth were stressful enough to send Pierre to his doctor for a vasectomy but thankfully her arrival went exactly to plan and he could breathe calmly once again. 

“Hello my Clare-bear, wow, you have another bracelet.” You quirked an eyebrow at Charles as he arrived with Clare’s backpack on his shoulder and her spare carseat under his arm. “Uncle Charles has absolutely spoiled you.”

“Of course. A princess deserves it,” he stated proudly as he placed her belongings down and nodded his head to the simulator. “Is he all ready for the big day?”

“He is, I’m not sure I am,” I admitted as I put Clare down and she immediately went to interrupt Sydney by climbing onto his lap mid-race. If it was anyone else they would have received an earful but he just paused the game and listened as she told him all about her day at Uncle Charles’ house. “God help me when he gets to Formula One, I think I’ll have to revert the car back to a slower predecessor for my own sanity.”

Charles laughed but I wasn’t completely joking. The cars were so much faster than they were when he and PIerre raced. Though the safety features improved along with the technology that made them rockets on wheels it was still difficult to imagine putting my little boy inside one and sending it off. 

“You could keep him as a reserve driver,” Charles offered before shaking his head at the thought and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But he’s stubborn like his father, he’d just find another team to race for.”

“No way, I can at least trust my own team to keep him safe. Same goes for Marc.”

Charles chuckled at the mention of his son who at 8 years old he was already a junior karting champion. “He said someone called him Il Predestinato after his race last weekend.”

“Yikes, I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”

The front door opened again and Addie blew in with all the gusto of a tornado, whipping around the rooms to greet everyone before she was up the stairs to her old room. Entering a little more sedately was my husband, his arms laden with more suitcases than anyone needed for a week away, especially when she still had a wardrobe full of clothes upstairs. 

“You are lucky you only have sons,” Pierre said to Charles as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t work out enough anymore to be carrying this shit.” 

He dropped the suitcases in front of the elevator and hit the call button rather than carrying them up the stairs before pushing them inside as the door opened. After a few bad winters, where not even the central heating could keep the aches of my bones at bay, Pierre had made the call for the elevator to be installed and it had been a godsend in moments like this when heavy items needed to make it to the floors above.

Sticking his head up the staircase he called out, “Addie, your entire life and everything but the kitchen sink is heading your way.”

“Thanks, dad!”

“What was that about?” I asked after he joined us in the kitchen while the coffee machine churned out our usual drinks. “I thought she outgrew the ‘I’m too cool to hangout with my parents’ phase.”

Pierre's lips pressed together and he took a seat next to Charles, picking up Clare who had left Sydney to return to his practice. “Elias.”

“Vettel?” Charles asked, his eyebrows lifting when Pierre nodded and pushed his mug away so Clare couldn’t reach the hot liquid.

“They have been out on a few dates, apparently. I’ll have to ask Davis about it, assuming he went with them, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head at the news, cradling my mug in my hands as I leaned against the bench and wondered if she had ditched her bodyguard once again. “He’s a sweet boy from what I remember, much like his father.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t care who his dad is,” Pierre grumbled before repeating, “You are so lucky you only have sons, mate. Teenage girls are stressful.”

“Ah, but I have two boys who think it is funny to have a competition to see who can fart the loudest,” Charles said as he took a sip of his drink.

“I mean, that’s kind of funny,” Pierre said with a smirk.

Charles sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Not when one always pushes too hard to win.”

The sip I was taking went the wrong way and I spluttered as Pierre laughed, “It’s all shits and giggles, until someone giggles and shits.”

“To think my poor mother went through this too. Drives me insane, mate. Bet you’ve never had to worry about that?”

“Thankfully, no,” I answered after recovering from choking on coffee. “But it also wasn’t bad enough to stop you from having another.”

“And on that note, I should get going. Mia won’t let me back in the house if I don’t pick up her favourite carbonara on the way home.” He smiled as he thought of his wife’s pregnancy cravings. It was the same one she had when she was carrying Marc and Antonio so it came as no surprise at the gender reveal when the backyard was splattered with blue confetti. “Thank you for letting me borrow Clare.”

“Any time,” Pierre chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back. Charles had been busy reinstalling all the baby gates and safety locks in his home, despite the baby boy not even being born yet, and wanted a toddler to help test his craftsmanship. “I won’t complain about a little free babysitting.”

Charles placed his empty mug in the sink and before kissing the top of Clare’s thick wavy hair. “Bye petite chérie, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Uncle Charles,” she said with a wave, but it sounded more like Unk Cha and made him laugh as he approached the simulator.

I saw Sydney pause the race and Charles crouched down beside him, sharing a few quiet words of encouragement for the upcoming debut race. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people and my smile grew as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. 

I turned to meet his lips over my shoulder and the magnetism that attracted us was still evident even after 17 years. Of course, like any relationship, there had been times when stress led to arguments and I would find him hours later in a spare bed, wide awake because he couldn’t sleep without me beside him. Those fights never lasted long enough to even remember what they were about and forgiveness came easy.

I turned in my husband’s arms and draped mine around his neck to admire him. Pierre was truly like a fine wine. Age had made him even more handsome and the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips and eyes were a testament to a life that was full of smiles and laughter. 

“Addie said she’ll watch the kids tonight,” Pierre whispered in my ear as he gently swayed to the melodic tune of his voice and I hummed with contentment. “And I got us a table at L'Ambroisie. You’ve been working so hard I thought we could do with a night away, just the two of us.”

“You think I don’t know your game, baby,” I whispered back, all too aware Charles was still chatting with Sydney and imparting some real world advice. “Wine and dine, pretty words, a hotel room. There’s only one thing you want.”

His lips curled into a smile against my cheek. “You know me too well.”

“You would actually get a full night’s sleep if you put your foot down.”

Pierre looked over at Clare who had helped herself to a banana from the fruit bowl and as if sensing she had been caught she looked up with an innocent smile. “How can I tell her no when she looks like that?”

“Mhmm, and that’s why she keeps climbing into our bed. You are a big softy.”

His smirk was flirty and fun as his arms tightened around me, pulling our bodies flush together. His breath was hot on my neck as he hid his face in the curtain of my hair. “Not tonight, ma femme. Tonight you will see just how hard I can be.”

Pierre backed up with a smirk but not before he sucked at the sensitive skin above my racing pulse. He knew exactly what he was doing and the smugness showed as he whistled a little tune on his way to help Clare peel the banana.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the stairs and said goodbye to Charles with the message to remind Mia that our plans for a spa day had been booked - but that didn’t mean he could slack off from the ankle massages he was giving her each night. He gave an amused salut but I didn’t see it as I pressed the button for the elevator. He was well used to the reminders by now, it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Knowing my evening plans had changed I went to my office and shut the door to silence the music drifting down the hall from Addie’s room. As CEO of Gasly Racing there was an endless stream of paperwork to be checked and signed, especially with the new expansion plan for the factory about to break ground. On top of that were the invites to attend fundraisers or speeches to prepare for the various charities I was ambassador for such as Women's Refuge.

When I finally emerged with my inbox up to date I could hear the laughter of all my children from where they lounged in front of the tv and the sound never ceased to make me smile. I had missed the sound since Addie moved out because it was rare to have all five of us here at the same time and I was reluctant to leave even for just one night when it came time to pack an overnight bag.

“We are allowed one night away, mon amour,” Pierre said as he stepped into the master bedroom to see me hesitating to step inside the wardrobe. “You and me, no interruptions.”

I relaxed into his embrace and sighed as he brushed my hair over one shoulder before kissing my collar. “And what were you planning that was so important it couldn’t be interrupted?”

His chuckle sent a shiver of delight down my spine and his fingers trailed down my ribs to the hem of my shirt before they slipped underneath the material to caress the soft skin over my stomach. I had to take a shaky breath when his thumbs caught the waistband of my skirt and I held it as I waited for them to hook underneath.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and my lips parted in anticipation of his dirty words. “To sleep.”

“Huh?” I blinked twice, peeking over my shoulder to see his green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“To sleep. Why, what were you thinking?” He tried to look innocent but when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and his hand slipped down beneath my skirt he let the truth show. “Did you want me to tell you how I am dying for a taste of you? How I can’t wait to have these sexy legs wrapped around me when I make love to you tonight? I don’t need to tell you, baby, I’ll show you.”

I knew he could feel how damp my panties were for him from the smirk on his face and I almost whimpered when he withdrew his hand from where I needed it. “Now pack your bag, and make it quick, I’m absolutely ravenous.”

I bit my lip at the depth of his tone and knew exactly what it was he was dying to taste. I didn’t even look at what I was packing, tossing the first items that touched my hands before he stopped me and grabbed one dress instead. 

“This one,” he said as he held a colourful sundress that I rarely wore anymore, a soft smile warming his eyes. “It’s my favourite.”

Click here for the final chapter. 🥺

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

[januaryembrs]

BEST GIRL | Javier Peña x DEA!reader

Request: Congrats on 1k! <3 If I may request a Javier pena x reader, where he insists on taking her home to insure she's safe? Thank you, if this doesn't speak to you, feel free to skip!

description: Javi offers to walk you home when you get stood up on a date.

Word count: 1.4k

trigger warnings: hickeys, mention of a gun, walking home alone, jealousy?

main masterlist

Author’s note: As much as I love doing these singular prompts I keep getting attached to the characters I'm writing and wanting to write fully fledged fits which I don't have time to do. Love the x dea!Reader trope as we all know.

It had all started two weeks ago when you bustled into the office with a hickey on your neck. He’d had a subtle crush on you for the past few months, though he had tried to put it down to lust, but inside Peña knew he was screwed. You were a beautiful woman, smart and witty, amazing at catching narcos. You were possibly the best in the department, at least that’s what it said according to the leaderboard you kept of the number of arrests made this month. 

You were in the lead with fifteen, Javi running in close second with thirteen and Steve falling behind at nine. Though in his defence, Carrillo had been grilling him with paperwork to fill out so he didn’t have as much of a chance in the field as the two of you did. But it was clear that when you walked into the office, hair messed and a small purple splotch on your collarbone that your winning total was not the source of your delight. 

Sitting at your desk and shoving your handbag under your chair, you moved to make a start on your own paperwork. You felt two sets of eyes burning into your skull, your face flicking up to the offending agents with pride. 

“Oh, good morning gentlemen,” Came your smug voice, as if they had been an afterthought in your charm this morning. 

“Morning,” Steve murmured, sitting upright in his chair to get a look at your desk, “Where’s your coffee?”

You were a creature of habit, and after working closely for nearly a year with the two men in your unit, they grew to understand that every single morning you brought the same coffee flask, in the same handbag, which you brought to your lips with the same shade of lipstick almost immediately upon entering the building. But today was different, off. Your peachy pink lipstick was nowhere to be seen, a deeper red painted on in its place. And the beverage was missing too.

Javi’s eyes perked up at the distinction in your demeanour, your face going hot at the fact they had known you just that bit too well for you to get away with your little secret. 

“Just didn’t fancy it this morning,” You responded, trying to bury your nose into your work. Steve’s pen clattered to his desk in shock. That was certainty new. A job like this meant you had to stuff yourself full to the brim with caffeine if you were to make it through the day. 

“No, no,” Javi said suspiciously, “You look different. You only wear red lipstick when we’re going out,” Your eyes shot to his at the remark. An odd warmth spread in your chest when you realised he took notice of your little habits and you hid a scarlet smile at his words. 

“Yeah, and your coffee cup is gone because you couldn’t make it the way you like it this morning. Maybe you weren’t home?” Steve finished, raising his eyebrows in an accusation.

You puffed a breath, leaning back in your chair at their interrogation, “Save the questions for the criminals, boys,” They simply stared at you, waiting for an answer. You knew you weren’t wriggling out of this one. “Okay, fine. I wasn’t home last night. I’ve started seeing someone,” You confessed.

“Yeah, we gathered. That hickey on your neck says it all,” Javi teased, though inside he was bitter at the fact he had missed his chance with you. “So when can we meet him?”

Obviously not because Javi wanted to size the guy up or anything. Obviously. 

—

Not even three days later, Javi had practically forced you to arrange a double (triple) date with your recent interest. 

All you had told them was that his name was Mateo and that he was just so dreamy. He worked at the coffee shop you stopped off on the way home from work (again, getting your fill of caffeine for your guaranteed share of paperwork waiting for you at home). He had been the one to make the move on you, take you out for drinks, kiss you first on his old sofa in the dead of night. 

So as the five of you sat in the bar, two drinks down, it made no sense in anyone’s eyes why you were sitting alone. 

Steve of course had brought Connie, Javi had brought some girl he owed a second date, Eliza you think her name was. Then there was you. 

Mateo was supposed to be here an hour ago, you thought as you wrung your hands in nerves. The conversation flowed nicely as it always did between the three of you. Connie was by far the nicest woman you had ever known, and boy did she give Steve a run for his money with her drink tolerance. And Eliza was nice. She was quiet though, too interested in kissing Javi’s earlobe as he blushed and tried distracting her with something else whether it be shots or a less physical form of affection to keep her away.

She was nice, they all were. But god did you feel like an idiot. 

You chugged the remnants of your beer, still glancing at the door in case he made an appearance despite being diabolically late. When there was still no sight of him for a moment, you sighed and stood up from the table. “I’m gonna head home, it’s getting late-”

“You’re leaving?” Connie said, her blue eyes turning sad as she grabbed your wrist kindly, “He still might show up, please don’t go,”

“It’s getting late, I think I’m just going to go home. I have a huge report due for Carrillo by Monday anyway-” You brushed off politely, hating the look of pity everyone sent your way. You were obviously lying, anyone could see you were simply trying to save face over the fact your date had stood you up.

“Y/n, please just wait up, one of us will walk you home,” Steve tried to interject, but you were too fast, already slipping your coat on and stepping away from the table. 

“No, it’s fine really. I’m a big girl, I have my badge and gun on me anyway,” You promised, a meek smile clearly masking the embarrassment you felt. 

You turned on your heel to head out the door, giving the quartet a small nod goodnight as you left. God, this was pathetic. A woman of your grown age getting stood up on a date still, as if you were a stupid teen chasing an even more childish boy. You willed yourself not to cry out of sheer embarrassment, though your eyes stung with hatred and unshed tears anyway. 

That is until you heard your name being called behind you. 

“Wait!” You spun around to see Javi speeding to catch up with you, his date left at the table with a new cocktail in her hand and a slightly sour looking face. “Let me take you home,”

“Javier, you’re on a date. I can walk home alone, I’m fine. I don’t need everyone fawning over me-” You started but was cut off when he overtook you and held the door open for you to leave. “Javi!”

“Steve and Connie are taking Eliza home. Come on,” He held his hand out to you leaving no room for an argument. The warmth you felt in the office returned when you saw the way he looked at you, a mixture of pity, pleading and concern in those doe, brown eyes. All for you. “I can’t leave my best girl to walk home alone, can I?”

Because you knew he would do anything for you. The same way he would for Steve, or anyone else in the department. But something about the way he held his hand out, kind and inviting, as if he needed to take you home just as badly as you needed a shoulder to cry on, made your heart flutter like Mateo and his dreamy pick up lines never had. 

You took his hand gently, and he began walking the two of you through the cold Medellin night air, pulling you close with a sigh, “Jackass doesn’t know what he’s missing,”

[ouatsqincorrect]

fic/headcanon prompt: the fam's realisation moments that emma and regina were in love

ok i tried for so long to write this into a fic for you, anon but haven’t been able to work it into the right words so i’m gonna do it as a headcanon now (i hope that’s okay with you). maybe someday i’ll find a way to make it work

anyway, these are my thoughts

rumple is the first one to figure it out. emma comes to him, angry about the dreamcatcher that told her regina killed archie and suddenly, it just clicks. and for a man who could see so much of the future, this really sort of takes him by surprise

but it makes some perfect sense in a way and now, he understands why regina was able to save emma from that portal and why no matter how many people try to sway her, emma can’t seem to find it in her to believe that regina is just a bad person

because he’s known regina her entire life (i know they met after daniel died, but—) and no one has ever fought for her like emma does

it’s when they stop the trigger though that he realizes it isn’t one sided. he knows magic better than anyone, and the fact that emma and regina found a way to stop that little diamond tells him all he needs to know about how they really feel

snow is the next one to figure it out. they’re standing at the town line, pan’s curse is about to hit, and it’s hard to look at the way emma’s crying and regina’s giving up her happiness and not see that they’ve fallen hard

her suspicions are only confirmed when she watches how regina struggles the following year, not only because of the pain of losing henry, but from the pain of losing emma too

and that’s how david gets it. he catches regina in a bad place one night at the castle and the way she’s upset for more than just henry is enough to clue him in

he doesn’t know for sure that emma’s in love with regina too until she brings marian back and david spends the next few days trying to get emma to calm down because the fact that she took away regina’s chance at happiness (and the fact that regina won’t talk to her) is killing her

when he didn’t have his memories, henry was convinced emma and regina had been in a relationship once before he was born. and when he gets his memories back, it’s hard to unsee that because now a lot of their behavior towards each other makes sense

and this is the kid who took exactly five seconds to believe that he was living in a town full of fairytale characters. it’s easy to believe that his moms would fall in love, and like the rest of the family, he can’t help but agree that it kind of makes perfect sense

belle realizes in camelot when she finds out emma gave regina the dagger. she’s had experience in this. the dark one giving someone the dagger is like them giving them their heart so she knows emma has feelings for regina

and the way regina clutches the dagger like her life depends on it tells her regina feels the same way about emma

zelena is, surprisingly, the last one to figure it out. it’s the day after emma told regina hook proposed and regina is so upset and zelena is pissed because it’s been years now and how had she not seen something so obvious?

for about 20 seconds, she tries to convince regina to crash the wedding, but regina shuts that idea down pretty quickly

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Special

11/16/2022

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: rpf, language, mentions of alcohol, slightly smutty daydreaming, mentions of online dating disasters, slander, pining, mentions of past heartbreak, fluff

Summary: Andrew has been secretly in love for a long time. Will he finally find it in himself to confess his feelings to his beloved?

A/N: It took me quite a while to finish this, but it was important to me that I did. I've been struggling with my writing for some time now and maybe it shows. Still, this one is special to me and one of the most personal stories I have ever written.

Picture by Joshua Newton via Unsplash (edited)

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Andrew could feel the cold creeping up on him from behind his back. What had been supposed to be the last night of summer had turned out to be the first night of autumn instead. Probably sensing the crisp bite of nightfall approach, someone had lit a fire hours ago, back when the sun had still been powerful enough to deceive the rest of them for a little longer. The oak logs, now turned into embers of glowing red, still gave off enough heat to keep the whole group outside way past midnight. Not that he would have needed the fire to keep him warm though. Her sight was more than sufficient to drive away the chill in an instant and provide him with enough heat to turn his cheeks pink whenever his eyes lingered for too long and his thoughts began to wander. 

He could have easily sat through the night without their bonfire if only she was there with him. He had to admit though that the fire suited her well, unveiling her full beauty to him once again in all its splendour, like the day he had finally realised he was in love with her. 

Dark shadows and golden lights danced across her face, caressing her soft skin with the tenderness of a lover’s touch. With every flicker of the flames, the glossy sheen of her painted lips twinkled enticingly, as if he would have needed the sight to remind him of the countless times he had yearned to taste them. What drew him in most though were her eyes, they always did. But it was here, in the glow of the fire, that they shone like they did only in the rarest of moments, when she allowed her feelings to breach the surface of her usually so reserved demeanour. 

The fact that he hadn’t seen her in quite a while only added to the effect she had on him. It must have been a good year ago, but the memory was still as vivid as if it had only been a few days. Andrew would never forget the darkness he had seen in her eyes that day. And he would never forgive the one who had put it there. The one she had called her lover back when lightning had first pierced Andrew’s defenceless heart. The one that sat right here by the fire among all their friends, like Judas among the apostels. Maybe even worse. 

With the heed of each and every single one of Argos’ ninety-nine waking eyes, Andrew had watched them all night, searching for even the slightest signs of discomfort on her side, or worse, of phoenix rising from the ashes, but so far nothing alarming had passed between them.

Andrew had always admired former lovers who were able to turn failed romance into friendship, but seeing these two on friendly terms, watching her laugh about his witless jokes as if he hadn’t almost broken her heart beyond repair, made him seriously reconsider the veracity of that belief.

“Oh come on, not again,” someone broke his train of thought with their whiny complaint about the empty cooling bag. “I’m not going all the way up into the kitchen again to fetch you lazy fuckers more booze.”

Immediately more and more voices joined in, eager not to leave their comfortable spots by the fire and walk through the cold and dark of the garden—all but one, and he knew even before her lips had parted that she would take it upon herself to get the supplies from inside the empty house.

“All right,” she uttered with a soft sigh as she stood, “someone hand me the bag. I’ll go.”

Too quick for his brain to catch up on the movement, Andrew found himself on his feet as well and lunged towards the bag, beating her to it without any effort thanks to his long legs.

“I’ll come with you.”

He had feared she would protest, fastening his grip on the handle just in case she would try to yank it out of his hand while telling him she was plenty able to find the way to the fridge by herself. But she didn’t. Instead she just smiled up at him before her lips formed a silent thank you and Andrew was very grateful that his feet somehow remembered how to move on their own.

All evening a thousand questions he wanted to ask her had spiralled through his head. How was she doing? Had life treated her kindly since he had last seen her? God, he hoped it had. Still a part of him wished that didn’t extend to her love life as well and even though he knew it was childish to hope that her heart was still unclaimed because he wanted to make a home in it himself, he did. 

But he probably never would. Especially not since telling her about the feelings he had nursed for so long seemed impossible if he wasn’t even able to start a simple conversation now that they were alone. Maybe it was for the best though, seeing that she obviously wasn’t too keen on starting a conversation either.

It hadn’t always been like this, awkward and unfamiliar, as if they had never talked whole nights through, deeply lost in their own tiny universe where everything orbited around music, poetry, literature, mythology, politics, philosophy and all the other topics the rest of the gang found too profound for a night of drinking and light entertainment. He had lived for those moments, loved to pick her marvellous brain until, if only for a brief point in time, he was able to see the world through her eyes. 

And now he was standing here like a bloody fool, holding the bag for her in silence while she loaded bottle after bottle of cold brew into it. She was so close to him, her unique fragrance filling his senses every time she stirred the air between them when she turned. It was almost completely blanketed by the sharp stench of smoke. Almost. But not to him. He had memorised her scent like his favourite song, ready to recall every single note of it from memory even after all this time. Yet he seldomly allowed himself to do so. It made him careless, made his mind wander off to a place in which he imagined how she would feel, skin on skin. He wondered if she would taste just as good, her salty-sweet aroma still fresh on his tongue as their bodies became one in heated passion. He longed to feel her breath crawling up his neck as she moaned his name in pleasure, yearned to be wrapped tightly in the warmth of her—

“Andrew?”

The touch of her fingers gently pulled him from his fantasy, away from her and still back to her, back into the bleak reality of the kitchen with its buzzing fridge and cold neon lights.

“Huh?” he muttered sheepishly, his brain still unable to form a coherent sentence after what it had just dreamed up.

His irritation seemed to amuse her, a soft giggle breaking through her concern for a split second before she became serious again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He tried his best to sound convincing, but he knew she could read him like a book and so he was quick to add, “How about you?”

“Me? I’m not the one who zoned out for a moment.”

“True.” He smiled down at her, warm and soft. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” For the blink of an eye the smile she had shot him in return faltered, and when it steadied on her lips again, it wasn’t quite the same anymore. “I’m good. Fine, actually. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I just thought…you know…with him being here and all…”

“Ah, I see.” Her hand found his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze before gliding down the length of it and Andrew thought he could feel her touch in his very bones. “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me, but there’s really no need to. After all it was a mutual split.”

Actually, he remembered their breakup a little differently, but if this was the narrative she had chosen to hold onto, he wouldn’t be the one to crush it for her. But when she pulled her hand away from his, it was her who felt the need to correct that statement. 

“Okay, maybe the split itself wasn’t that mutual, but I know now that we had it coming for a long time. And I’ve made my peace with it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Andrew felt the awkward silence lure in the darkness that awaited outside the kitchen and still he needed another moment to gather the courage to ask the one question his heart feared the most and was still desperate to find the answer to. “So…um…are you…is there someone new in your life?”

“God no!” He hadn’t expected that reaction at all and even though he didn’t find his fears confirmed, there was something about her eyes and the tone of her voice that made his heart heavy for her. “I put that hope to rest rather quickly after I started online dating.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Part of him truly was because no matter how much he had wished for her to be single, he would never have wanted it to come at the cost of more hurt.

“No, don’t be. Some of the shit I’ve been through is actually quite amusing in retrospect. Come on, I’ll tell you a few stories on the way back.”

It had taken them quite a while before they could hear the laughter from the fireplace drift over to them again. They had stopped a few times on the way, mostly because he had temporarily forgotten how to walk in the face of the things she had told him. But no matter how he looked at it, amusing was far from the word he would use to describe most of the things she had endured. Disbelief had alternated with rage up to a point that he himself felt awful for even sharing the same sex with this scum. 

After what he had just learned, Andrew couldn’t blame her for losing faith in love, not in the least. If anything, he was surprised how well she seemed to handle everything she had been through. In his eyes it was more than admirable. Of course he had known before that dating was seldomly an easy thing, but until now he had never realised what risks it held for women in a world almost entirely shaped by men.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others, okay? I wouldn’t want them to know. Especially not…”

Despite the darkness he could see her eyes shimmer with embarrassment. What for, he didn’t know. She had nothing to blame herself for. 

“Of course. I promise. Cross my heart.” 

A slender finger moved across his chest in two strokes to support his words and his childlike gesture made her smile. He had hoped it would. What he hadn’t anticipated however was her next move, and as her palm found the very spot he had just marked with a cross, his heart sank into his feet. There was nothing he could do to prevent it from speeding up, forced to stand and watch her catch on to it any second now while he felt its powerful drum underneath the thin layer of skin that covered his neck. 

“So, you still seem to get along with Y/N exceptionally well. Any chances for a reunion then?”

Her hand fell away, his fear of getting caught forgotten immediately, when she turned towards the voices. The little group that sat around the fire was still veiled from view by a few thick bushes, but the teasing tone was enough to imagine the grin on the talker’s face. Andrew and the woman by his side were far from grinning though.

“Not in a million years. We split for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, I totally understand. She’s kind of…special.”

“You can say that again.”

Even in the dim light that reached their hiding spot from the fire, Andrew could see her face fall. Fascinated and petrified alike by the myriad of emotions that flickered in the treacherous gleam of her eyes, he wished he could do anything but watch disaster unfold right in front of him. He might have thought of something, anything, had he known that they were far from finished with their humiliating ordeal.

“Might be the reason online dating isn’t going too well for her.”

“Honestly, I can’t say that comes as a real surprise.”

The conversation was far from over, but Andrew didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was the pair of wide eyes that seemed to stare right into the darkness of the cosmos as her body stumbled back a few steps.

“Y/N?”

The bag fell into the grass with a thud, the bottles inside clinking dangerously, but all he heard was her trembling voice that mumbled an absentminded excuse.

“I…I’m really tired. I should probably head home.”

And with that she just turned, the hint of an apologetic smile on her face, and let the shadows swallow her. For a second he just stood there, frozen in place by the rising panic inside of him, until the faint noise of a shaky breath carried over to him on the breeze.

“Wait.”

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. And why would she? He had done nothing to stop those eejits from their slander and he couldn’t blame her for assuming it was because he secretly agreed with them. 

“Y/N, stop.”

His feet had begun to move at last, hurrying after her as fast as the slippery grass allowed until he could make out her silhouette only an arms-length away and reached for her. 

“Please stop.” 

His voice was soft, but his hold on her wrist wasn’t. He couldn’t let her walk away from him, not like this. Not before he had told her—

But the moment she turned to face him, the words died away in his throat as he took her in in the faint moonlight, two watery lines cascading down her cheeks like streams of stars. Words would not be enough to make them stop. It was foolish, a gesture born from sheer helplessness in the face of his beloved’s despair, but there was no falter in his hands when he pulled her in and sealed her lips with his own. 

It wasn’t at all what he had hoped their first kiss to be like. But at least for a second he could feel her return it, her hands coming up to his chest, fisting the thick denim of his jacket, before she pushed him away.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His honest bewilderment seemed to be completely lost on her. Instead her chin began to tremble dangerously.

“Don’t be kind to me because I’m sad. Your pity just confirms they are right.”

“Pity? You think this was a gesture of pity?”

Her silence was answer enough and Andrew could see her retreat into her shell again. Soon, she would once more shoot him that apologetic smile and flee the scene, without ever knowing that in this very moment, pity was the last thing he felt for her. 

“What about this then?”

This time, he knew exactly what he was doing. Fully prepared to be pushed away again, to be yelled at or be slapped in the face, he leaned down. Gentle fingers cupped her cheek and he took it as a good sign that she didn’t shy away from his touch. He waited, one last moment for her to stop him, but she didn’t, and so he closed the last gap between them. 

This was what it should have been like the first time. Soft and tender, full of affection, every fibre of his being filled with her until he didn’t know anymore where he ended and she began. Through the haze of his rapture he faintly noticed the soft press of her body against his, unwavering arms wrapping around his neck, and he pulled her closer, securing her in his arms while she moaned her sweet approval into his mouth. 

He could have kissed her like this forever, but he still had a point to prove, a statement to make, and so he pulled away.

“Still think this was a pity kiss?” he panted against her lips and when her answer didn’t come, he pulled away further to look at her. He had hoped to be met with the familiar warmth of her eyes, but he found her gaze fixed on his jacket instead, where she watched her own hands adjust his collar.

“Even if it was—”

“It wasn’t.”

“Still,” she paused for a second, “what they say is true.”

“So? What’s wrong with being special?”

“I think we both know they didn’t mean special in a good way.”

Andrew sighed as his palm found her cheek again. “Maybe they didn’t.” He gently tilted her head and waited patiently until she finally decided to look at him. “But I do. I mean it in the best way possible when I say you’re special to me, Y/N. They may be right, you are complicated. But aren’t we all in our own way? That’s how nature has created us, as absolutely unique individuals, beautifully complicated. None of them may understand this, measuring you by society’s grotesque norms instead, but to me you are easy to love.”

“Andy, I…”

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same about me. I just wanted you to know.”

This was it. He had said what he had wanted to say. Now she would try her best to be gentle in her rejection, thank him for his honesty and leave. He would probably not see her again after tonight. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled as his forehead sank against hers, “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Maybe, yes. Then again, I don’t think you could have chosen a better moment to tell me than this exact one.”

His brain had no time to process what she had just said, distracted by the hands that found his trembling form again, one gliding into the warm space between his shirt and jacket, the other smoothing along his cheek and into his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever even consider parting from her in a moment like this. And then he could feel it again for a heartbeat, the feathery touch of her lips on his, ethereal and unreal like a fleeting daydream. 

His next words came in a whisper against her own, anxious if he lost their touch, he might wake from this dream after all. “Do you still want to get out of here?”

“Desperately.”

“Will you let me walk with you then? Just to make sure my special girl gets home safe and sound.”

“I think,” she said quietly, her breath leaving a honeyed due on his lips, “that’s the best idea you had tonight.” Slowly he moved, still reluctant to part from her, and it was only when he had secured her hand safely in his own that he dared to pull away and began walking. “Your best idea apart from that pity kiss, maybe.”

“I told you, woman, it wasn’t a pity kiss.” 

It was too dark to see her now, the moonlight shielded from them by the thick branches of a fir tree that hung above. And so, there was nothing he could do but squeeze her hand to make his protest known. 

“Bollocks,” she huffed teasingly as she squeezed back, causing Andrew to stop in his tracks.

“Do I need to show you again?”

“It surely won’t hurt.”

She squealed in surprise as he wrapped his arm around her middle and manoeuvred her backwards. With a soft groan, her spine was pressed into the gnarly bark of the tree while her head landed securely against the back of a large hand that shielded it from impact. 

“Kiss me, Andrew,” she breathed into the expectant silence, her fingers finding his lush curls again and guiding him towards the source of her heady whisper. And he did. Until he could feel the world around him starting to spin. He could have blamed it on the lack of oxygen or the darkness around them that heightened his senses, maybe even on the mere fact that this kiss had seemed so utterly unthinkable by the beginning of this evening, but he knew too well that it was the woman in his arms who made this kiss the most special he had ever shared. A kind of special he vowed to always cherish and never take for granted.