#sobbing writing this

[azsazz]

Snatched

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Request from @acourtofmenandthirst where Knox gets stolen from the family while they are on vacation. Thank you for the heartbreaking suggestion, enjoy. 😅

Warnings: Kidnapping, weapons

Word Count: 4,015

Notes: Lots of requests for kidnapping fics...y'all okay?

_________________________________________

“Thank you again, Tarquin, for having us,” you speak graciously to the High Lord of Summer. It isn’t often that you and Azriel get time off, and with the over-thoughtful Illyrian Spymaster, he was cautious of where your family set to vacation, untrusting some of the High Lord’s intentions.

But not at the Summer Court. It has been a home away from home for you and your mate since before your children were even born and Tarquin is like a brother to you. Even all six of your energetic children are welcome, unlike Cassian, though the High Lord says that it’s mostly a joke.

“No need to thank me, (Y/N), you know you both are always welcome in Summer,” the High Lord beams before bringing his golden goblet of wine to his mouth for a sip of the saccharine liquid.

You respond with a tired smile of your own, resting your head on your mate’s shoulder who wraps his arm around you, kissing the crown of your hair sweetly. It’s utter bliss. The babes are all playing in another room, the younger of the brood probably fast asleep by now from the help of Tarquin’s most trusted wraiths, who have been helping corral your children throughout your stay.

You peek up at your shadowsinger but he’s already staring down at you lovingly. With the extra eyes on your children it will be much easier for you and Azriel to get the alone time you so desperately need, and you’re hoping to make it through the night without one of the babes sneaking into your bedroom.

And you can see it in his eyes too, slightly hazy from the few drinks he’d allowed himself, looking at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, nearly pleading for you to end this conversation with your old friend so that he can take you to bed.

The High Lord catches your gazes and takes the hint, grinning at the two of you with a wicked smile as he leads the way to the suites.

“Don’t you say it,” you warn your friend, pressing close to Azriel's side. You feel amazing, completely at ease as you stroll through the long halls, the ocean’s salty breeze sweeping all around you.

Tarquin doesn’t listen, chuckling, “Trying for baby number seven then?” he teases and your pink cheeks warmed from the wine sting with a blush. A flash of surprise filters through the bond and Azriel hugs you closer, biting back an amused smirk.

“Quiet you,” you groan, playfully shoving at your friend.

He laughs heartily as he catches his footing. “Shoving a High Lord? That’s the kind of thing that could get you banned from the Summer Court.”

Your snarky retort is on the tip of your tongue when a piercing scream has you all freezing in the hall. Azriel’s shadows immediately slither away as he tucks you closer to him, reaching for the hidden knife in his boot. Tarquin listens to the calls of the water for word of what’s going on as you take off towards the sound.

It’s a wraith, shroud with fear and tears in her eyes as she runs, aqua skirts balled in her fists. 

“Lady (Y/N),” she sobs and you halt. Dread fills your stomach and the look in her eyes has your knees wobbling. “It’s the babe, Knox. He’s–he’s gone.”

__________

The High Lord receives the call from his brother in the Summer Court and he stills, unease twisting his gut like a whirlpool, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the head of the table. His mate glances at him, brows furrowed. The dark feeling sends a shiver up his spine and he knows immediately that something is not right.

Calling out to Azriel he goes still at the brother's words, dark matter swirling from his body and throughout the room, casting it into near complete darkness.

Nyx makes a startled noise, the fork loaded with lovely chocolate cake falls to the plate below with a clang. Feyre clutches onto her mate's hand, begging him to let her in, see what’s going on. He shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want his love to hear this, how Knox was taken from his crib in the Summer Court. The dessert he’s been eating threatens to make a reappearance.

He lets her see and her gasp is heartbreaking. Feyre clamps a hand over her heart in shock, staring up at him with wide, sad eyes. She brushes her fingers through her son’s hair, needing the reassurance that he’s there.

Rhys has to go.

He’s already giving orders, squeezing Feyre’s hand because he can’t even manage to do anything else, he feels too sick to.

He calls out to Cassian, and the warlord replies just as quickly. Rhys can hear the utter devastation in his brother’s voice when he responds, the hot fury burning from his words, letting the High Lord know they’ll be ready.

He and Feyre winnow to the House of Wind, Nyx holding tightly to both of their hands. He doesn’t ask what’s happening, why he didn’t get to finish his cake, he knows better than to pry.

Cassian and Nesta had been in the middle of playing a game with their son, but now, a terrified feeling flitting through the air, it had abruptly ended their competitive match.

Nesta stands with the most emotion he’s ever seen, bracing herself against a chair, hand pressed to her mouth as she stares at Cassian, eyes brimmed with tears. The warlord must’ve just finished telling her what happened as he’s adjusting his weapons on his belt with finality, a murderous look in his eyes.

Gideon keeps glancing between his parents and sends a questioning glance toward his cousin when he sees him, wondering what’s going on. Nyx gives a slight shake of his head; confused doesn’t even begin to describe why his parents are acting like this.

Feyre is to take Nesta and Gideon to the River House where the wards are more secure and wait for Rhys to bring the rest of the babes to safety.

Rhys and Cassian winnow to the Summer Court, their hearts breaking at the sight, plunged into the sound of you sobbing, holding onto your mate for dear life.

He’s never seen this look on Azriel’s face before, and if he didn’t know his brother he’d think him a Death God all his own, hazel eyes dialated with murderous inent, standing stock straight, his shadows already sweeping through the castle for any leads.

Rhy’s is terrified to approach, not only because of the shadowsinger, but because of you. A female who’d just had her son taken. You are sure a force to be reckoned with.

“Where are the rest of the babes?” he murmurs softly. He can see the horror in his brother’s eyes, the heartbreak, how small and scared he is behind that deathly look. He has one hand cradled to the back of your head where it’s buried into his chest, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you upright.

“They’re in the other room with Tarquin and his wraiths,” Azriel’s voice is strained. He’s barely holding himself together but he has no leads yet, shadows revealing nothing of who has taken your son. “We need to question them all.”

You don’t even protest. Even though Tarquin is your friend and would never do something like this, if he had any sort of hand in this you need to know and you need to know now.

Cassian’s already moving for the door, set to watch the children while his brothers create a plan of interrogation and attack. They will not be left without watch again.

__________

Rhys helps Azriel winnow you all to the River House where Feyre, Nesta, and their children wait. The females immediately usher you into their arms, tears streaming down their own faces as they whisper soothing words into your hair.

You’re numb. Can’t feel a thing as you let the floodgates open once more. You hadn’t wanted your children seeing you like this but they were smart, noticed that one of their siblings was missing from the room but didn’t know why.

Wren runs to his cousins, completely confused and alarmed, trying to figure out what they know. He doesn’t know where his youngest brother is and no one will tell him a thing no matter how much he pleads.

Baz’s brows are furrowed in anger. He wants his brother and he wants to see him now. He doesn’t understand why his uncle Cassian isn’t letting him though, and the little boy is beside himself with anger, knowing that something isn’t quite right.

He’s tempted to run over to his older brother, beg him to tell him what’s going on. Surely Wren knows, he is the oldest and knows everything. But Baz waits patiently, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his little shadows swirl around him, slithering towards his parents to listen in.

Zuzu, ever the stubborn half-Illyrian, keeps insisting that she’s going to go wherever her father and uncles are going. Each time one of them sets her down she runs to another warrior on her little legs, begging to be picked up. When they ultimately do she lets them know that she wants to go with them.

Jax’s face is stoic, wide eyes the only thing giving away that he’s watching intently. He doesn’t know what’s going on, too young to understand. He’s irritated by all of the noise, but he can tell that whatever is happening is not good, and he bursts out in tears once Rhys sets him on the floor.

And Knox’s twin sister, Malos, has not stopped crying since her brother had been taken. They’d never been more than a room apart from each other before, often wailing loudly until they were aware they were in the same vicinity with each other, calming down immediately. 

You’re worried she’s going to make herself sick with all of this crying but you can’t even blame her because you had hardly stopped sobbing since you’d found out he was gone.

Overwhelmed, you excuse yourself, slipping out of the chaos and into the nearest room with a lock which just happens to be an extra study.

You brace yourself against the desk, taking a shuddering breath that does little to calm you. Your hands are shaking and your heart feels like it’s been cleaved in two, a piece of you taken with your son.

How could this have happened? How could you have let this happen? Is Knox going to be–

You tense at the feeling that sweeps through the room, dark and heavy. It’s Azriel, emerging from the shadows, not even the locked door keeping him away.

He says nothing as he closes in on you, shuffling you gently into his arms as he rests his head against yours.

There’s nothing to say. Nothing that can fix any of this, make anyone feel better, and while he is going to go off with Rhysand and Cassian to find Knox you are going to be left here with your terrified children asking where their brother is.

“I’m going with,” you say weakly and his grip tightens. You know you’d be of little help, having hardly any training or powers of your own, but he’s your son and you feel the need to aid the search.

“(Y/N), someone needs to stay here with the children,” Azriel begs, cradling your face in his hands. He’s trying to be rational, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen your mate more scared in the long years you’ve been with him. You know that he’s trying to hide how he’s truly feeling but you can feel his hands shaking where they rest against your cheeks and the terrified feeling is burning hot across the bond. It’s mixing with your own sickly fear and it’s consuming.

You can’t stop the tears from falling. Your baby is Mother knows where with Cauldron knows who. 

“Then you stay here,” you bellow, shoving weakly at his chest. He doesn’t so much as move an inch and his trembling hands are doing nothing to ground you. All you can do is stare up at him in disbelief.

“Az, he’s–” you can’t even say it, choking on the words in your mouth as you collapse against him again in a fit of rage and sobs. Your youngest son, gone without a fucking trace, from right under your noses.

“I know,” your mate's tone is strained, like it hurts him to speak, trying so desperately to keep it together for his family. He blames himself, should’ve known better than to think he could relax and enjoy time with his brood.

You’re keeping him too long, pressed up against him and clutching his clothes for support. He needs to go and you need to console the children that are downstairs with the rest of the Inner Circle.

“I should go with you,” you clear your throat, pleading once more, trying to stop the hot tears from flowing freely down your cheeks. You know that he’d take you in a heartbeat but it would mean leaving your other five children to be tended by their aunts. It would serve better for at least one of you to stay and show them that everything is going to be alright, even if you’re not sure you believe it right now.

“I’m going to bring our baby home, (Y/N). I promise you that.”

__________

“(Y/N),” a soft voice calls from the entrance of the room and you wipe your tears furiously. It’s Cassian, the warlord on guard while his brothers search for your missing child. He must have heard your sniffling and come to check on you.

How he’d managed to remove himself from the pile of children that had climbed atop the Illyrian and fallen asleep was beyond you. He is a true warrior indeed.

Your eyes hurt from the amount of tears you’ve spilled and you’re burning with the need to sleep but your stomach is in knots and your mind is racing, thinking of what they could be doing to Knox at this very moment.

Your friend catches sight of Feyre, who’d been keeping you company but had given into her own drowsiness, snuggled into the blanket you’d pulled over her hours ago. She’d offered a helping hand herself but Rhysand was more than adamant that she stay here with you, Cassian, and all of the children in case something should happen.

“You should be trying to sleep,” he says softly, his usual mirthy tone raw with emotion, the ache he feels for you and your mate as he lowers himself to the ground beside you in front of the smoldering hearth.

“How can I sleep when a piece of me is missing?” you question. Your voice cracks and your already burning eyes fill with tears once again. You’re surprised you have anything left to shed, you hadn’t even been able to eat or drink anything since he’d been gone, that feeling in your stomach all too much.

He tucks you beneath his large arm, pulling you in close and it helps a little but not enough. Nothing is ever going to be enough. “He’s okay, (Y/N).”

You swallow thickly, peering up at him weakly. “How do you know that?”

“Because he’s your and Azriel’s son.”

You’re quiet for a moment, mulling the warlord’s words over as you stare into the dying flames before you, missing the warmth against your already hot cheeks.

“I just don’t get it,” you hide your face in your hands, “A child, Cassian. A fucking child. And not just any child, sweet little Knox who can’t even speak,” you sob and he holds you closer. He’s not so good with knowing how to comfort a crying female, often unleashing his own emotions through his fists, but he does what he can and you’re thankful. 

“And I know Az is killing himself over this and remembering how terrifying it was for him when he was young and even though it was his own brothers these are adults who have taken him. Adults who have been trying to hold something over us for centuries…what do you think they’ll do to him?”

Oh Gods, you’re making yourself sick again, hyperventilating at the thought of any sort of harm coming to your child.

Cassian doesn’t even know what to say or do, how to calm you down because Knox may not be his own child but he sure feels like it with how fiercely you all love each other’s children.

So he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you tight until you give into the sleep trying to pull you under, only to jolt awake when you sense your mate’s presence hours later. You haul yourself off of the couch Cassian had laid you on to meet the spymaster, shadows thick like a cloak covering his hands that he’s wringing together.

The look he gives you has you breaking, a slight shake of his head that has you slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle a cry of pain, knees giving out beneath you.

They hadn’t found him.

He looks horrible, hair sticking up from where he’s been pulling it endlessly, dark circles beneath his dull, golden eyes from days of searching, wings drooped lowly behind him in defeat. 

Your little boy must be so scared out there all alone.

“I’m going back out there,” Azriel rasps, a promise in those exhausted eyes. “Just came to switch out Rhys for Cassian.”

You want to offer to help, you’ve been running yourself ragged here, trying to do tasks that will keep your mind from going insane with theories about what is currently happening to your son. But Azriel has the experience, gone for days on end with little to no sleep, he’s used to the kind of stress that comes with a mission. But his heart is involved this time too. He will not stop until Knox is found.

You nod, letting him help you to your feet. You have nothing to say, the thickness in your throat won’t allow it.

You mate kisses your forehead tenderly, gesturing to Cassian that he’s ready to go, taking his brother's arm in his grasp, his shadows sweeping around them thickly, ready to winnow.

A knock on the door sounds.

You look between the High Lord and the rest of your friends, brows furrowed. They’re just as confused as you are, wondering for a moment how someone’s made it onto the property through the wards. It could just be Amren or Mor, and you all follow Rhys as he stalks towards the front room.

Azriel’s breath hitches in his throat as you approach, his shadows already receiving word of who’s on the other side.

“Knox,” he whispers in disbelief at the same time Rhys swings open the door to reveal your little boy cradled in the last person you expected arms.

Baz appears around the corner, woken from a nightmare about his brother going missing. There’s fat tears in his eyes and he’s trying to find you – he loves a good snuggle with his mother, it makes everything better – when he catches sight of his littlest brother.

“Knox,” he calls, startling you all. The boy races through the entry, dodging his aunts and uncles that try to lunge for him with ease. You rush forward as well, straight for the child in the arms of the Autumn Court royal.

Baz reaches him first, colliding with his legs that has the auburn haired male staggering back a step, his grip firm on the babe in his arms. Your son scrambles to try and get a peek of his brother, wholly confused as to why this stranger has him, yelling at the lordling to hand his sibling over.

Eris looks like he’d rather be anywhere else as Cassian steps towards him with a glare, prying young Baz off of him. He’d like to see what the tiny half-Illyrian could do, knows he could land some good hits on the autumn native, but now’s not the time, not as he’s surrendering Knox over to you.

You don’t even care that it’s Eris. He has Knox and he looks as happy as ever, playing with the lordlings long fingers.

“Knox,” you cry, taking him from the Autumn male and hugging him tightly to your chest. Rhys has already called for Madja to check on the child and while you examine him, rubbing your fingers across his chubby cheeks Feyre and Nesta lead you away from Eris.

As soon as he has a clear shot Azriel takes it, shoving the male up against the wall with Truth–Teller pressed up against his neck, hissing down at him.

He ignores Baz’s cheering, muffled quickly by Cassian’s large hand covering the boy’s mouth.

“Eris,” his voice is like midnight, sending shivers up the Autumn male’s spine. He knew it was a risk to bring the babe back like this, how it would look when he showed up with the shadowsingers youngest in his arms, but when his mother had handed him the child and begged him to get him back to safety he couldn’t refuse.

He holds his hands up in surrender and only Rhysands grip on Azriel’s shoulder makes the shadowsinger stop, fully intent on killing the auburn haired male before him.

They let Eris speak, you listening with half an ear while the healer looks over the content babe in your arms. You still can’t believe that he’s here, dread slowly ebbing from you when she deems him unharmed and retreats back to the library.

It had been Beron’s plan, and the lordling didn’t even know the babe was in his court until his mother had come to him, beaten and bloody but curling the little boy into her chest, pushing him gently into Eris’ arms with tears streaming down her face.

One look at the babe and his stomach had dropped. He knew exactly who’s child he was cradling in his arms, and had seen that very look directed at him more times than he could count throughout his 500 years of life.

Confused and absolutely terrified of what would happen should the shadowsinger show up and see his son in the arms of the Autumn Court royal, he set out to return him, not only for you and Azriel, but for his mother. She’d been absolutely broken when Beron brought the babe to her, for she knew just how cruel her husband can be and it reminded her of what he’d been dreaming to do to her youngest son, Lucien.

Eris hated to leave his mother there. Amber eyes burning hot at the sight of her and this babe, quiet and calm but staring up at him with a look that made him shift uncomfortably. Must be a family trait.

He hadn’t known how exactly his father knew where you were or how to attack, but he could give Azriel the go ahead to finally kill that son of a bitch. For his mother, for himself, for you.

This is simply something he never would have done.

Even Rhys gives a slight shake of his head in agreement, permission to do just that and a gleam in his eyes to say that he will personally help the shadowsinger rid Prythian of its resident Autumn abuser.

Eris has to admit that the thought of stealing a child made him sick. Couldn’t even fathom what he’d feel like if he had children of his own, but as he took care of the little boy now tucked safely in your arms – the poor thing – and the reaction of his older brother, so fiercely running into the fray to get to him, it made his heart ache in a different sort of way.

And as much as he doesn’t like the shadowsinger, and he’ll never admit something like this aloud – he does have some cute children.

[rhinestonesox]

When Senshi was young in the dungeon the majority of the adults he were with ostracized him. All except Gillin, who died to make sure Senshi had something to eat: unseasoned boiled meat that may or may not have been one of their comrades.

It really puts into perspective why he was so nurturing towards Chilchuck. When Chil reveals he’s 28 to the party, Senshi responds by telling him that he thought he was older. Senshi was in his 30s when he and his comrades got trapped in the dungeon, so it’s safe to assume that he thought Chil was at a similar age.

He met a young boy who was, from his perspective, forced to do dangerous work in the dungeon just like he was, and so, Senshi made an effort to look after Chilchuck in the same way Gillin looked after him.

Mind you, when Senshi was young in the dungeon he had to starve for weeks, eat the horse he loved, and finish it off spending the next i don’t know how many years wondering if he committed cannibalism.

Senshi understands first hand the value of nutrition and proper eating, so when he’s with the party he makes an effort to make sure they’re all eating a full and balanced diet. Not only that, but Senshi INVOLVES them in the process of getting food to eat, always preparing it in front of them and narrating every ingredient in the process so that there’s no doubt about what they’re eating.

[whisperofwonder]

Kuroo Tetsurou knows how to tie a tie. He wore one every day of high school, after all. It's not a difficult skill to master. Truthfully, he could probably do it in his sleep.

But, all those years ago, you offered so sweetly. It wasn't hard for him to say, sheepishly, "Sure. I'm not too good with these things."

Ever since, it's one of the most cherished parts of his morning routine. He watches as you hold up random ties from his collection, eying them thoughtfully before making your selection. You stand so close to him, your gentle fingers turning up his collar and looping the tie around his neck. He can smell your shampoo, feel the warmth of your skin. Your fingertips brush the sensitive skin of his neck as you make the knot, sending tiny thrills of electricity through him each time.

"There," You always say as you smooth his collar down, "Perfect." You give the knot one final tug, and it's a familiar signal. He closes the gap, pressing a kiss to your lips as you finally let go of the tie.

"Thanks, babe," He always murmurs against your lips before he pulls away.

You always grin. "Have a good day, today."

He thinks he's done well, all these years, hiding the truth from you. His one harmless fib.

It's his cousin's wedding. He's surprised to learn how many of the groomsmen really don't know how to tie a tie. He's going around the room, tying one tie after another, when he hears a familiar voice just inside the door. Freezing halfway though the final one, he slowly turns, caught in the act. You're crossing the room before he can even begin to feel foolish.

"I always knew, you know," You say simply, a teasing smile making your eyes dance. You tug the tie draped loosely around his own neck, the one he'd been saving for last. "Need a little help with that?"

As you carefully tie the tie for him, then tug him down for a sweet kiss, he thinks he might be falling in love with you all over again.

(part 2)

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

The products of trying to recreate what was going on outside the frame during the kiss. (for ENTIRELY SCIENTIFIC purposes)

@actual-changeling altered my whole outlook on life with this post about Aziraphale's left hand (I'd only been looking at his right hand) and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I painted the rest of the fucking owl (and his bf).

so normal about this

[skyartworkzzz]

Like The Other Ones

HI YES IM FINALLY DONE HOLY SHIT

OKAY SO this was based off on my own gameplay of COTL, I noticed that everytime Id put food orders in, Narinder would usually be the one to prepare them And honestly? We love a malewife in this house so I dig that for him, ma guy is a skilled cook <3

As I wrote down the dialogue, it just got deeper than I expected SO HERE YALL GO WITH A FULL ASS COMIC ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP, ENJOY!!!!

This shit took me weeks Ill go recharge my soul now brb-

EDIT: I DECIDED TO PUT A UNDERCUT Tab so yall dont have to scroll too much in order to read and see other posts ure welcome 🤼‍♀️ <3

[soap-ify]

thinking about laying beside simon on the bed, your head resting on his shoulder while his hands held a book that you had gifted him, his eyes fixed on the text.

your fingers absentmindedly traced over the scars on his chest, letting your soft fingertips draw over the rough sunken skin of the healed gashes — a painful story written in each of them. and you wanted to read it all, read every scar and cut, kiss all of it, absorb it so you could share it with him — a connection only you’d ever have with him.

your fingers slowly found their way to his stomach, hand caressing the muscles that had softened up ever since he had come home from deployment, your eyes noticing the stretch marks starting on the sides of his tummy that you adored so much. pale lines adorning his skin, urging you to probe them too, your hand touching him so gently — an angel soothing a wounded soldier.

simon is gorgeous, too gorgeous. he never seemingly saw it the way you did. “you’re so pretty…” you lazily whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

you were the warmth his cold heart sought, the fire that melted him, the sun that gave his moon the light he never thought he’d see. he needed you in the way a man needed a god, in a way a plant yearned for water. and you were happy to give it all to him, everything for your sweet simon.

“you tryin’ to tickle me, love?” his gruff voice broke you out of your trance, your eyes finding his which were no longer looking at the book, an intrigued grin playing on his lips that made you giggle heartedly and give his stomach some pats.

“maybe.”

[azzo0]

Most people keep a picture of their beloved ones in their wallet, but Bakugo Katsuki has the wrapper of the first chocolate you gave him. Yes, a wrapper. 

He still remembers it clear as day. You guys were still in your first year of UA, and he was glaring at you, or so you thought, but he was just trying not to blush as he watched you. You assumed he was staring at you because you had a packet of chocolates on the table in front of you. 

"If you wanted chocolate, you could've asked," you grinned, giving him a chocolate, blissfully unaware of the effect it had on his poor heart.  

Katsuki, who hated chocolates, found himself grumbling and accepting it. He unconsciously played with the wrapper for a few hours until he kept it in his wallet. 

He's changed a lot of wallets in the span of ten years after that, but the wrapper still remains. The once bright cardinal colour has faded into a muted shade. Its crispy wrapper is now soft with rough edges after being kept in leather for so long. It will remain hidden in his wallet, making him smile whenever his eyes land on it. 

Because it was the first-ever chocolate he'd received from his precious wife. 

[kittysauce]

au where L and Light fall in love during the yotsuba arc ............... i think its a crazy interesting concept

[fairydrowning]

– Via "twinnedpeaks" on Tumblr

[TEXT ID: / july didn't even say goodbye. the years don't kiss you goodnight anymore. they just leave behind this empty space, a phantom pain. and still i ache, i ache, i ache! / END ID]

[uzurakis]

brainrotting so hard rn thinking of megumi who absolutely refuses to admit his feelings for his best friend but okay so hear me out shikigamis are often reflections of their owner, right?

his shikigami – his demon dogs, nue, escape rabbit etc etc are ALL attached to reader, constantly begging for their attention and being so protective towards reader whenever he brings them out. and reader can't help but feel loved and safe whenever they're around.

because the affection his shikigami has for you is a reflection of megumi's feelings for you <3

n. THIS IS SOOO GOOD and i just HAD to make a drabble out of it. i also feel megs will sometimes be jealous but.. hey.. isn’t that just an extension of HIMSELF? thank you nonnie cause i had fun brainrotting this wit chu <3

under the dappled shade of a tree, you and your bestfriend sat nestled amidst nature's embrace. the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing soundtrack to the lazy hour after school as the cool breeze swayed in between. you leaned against the sturdy trunk, the rough bark a comforting support against your back, whilst fushiguro reclined nearby, never not a book on hand, his presence a familiar comfort in the tranquil surroundings. he looked too focused, way too focused right now.

“fushiguro,” you called out whilst biting back a smile, holding up your index finger in a playful gesture. “one favor.”

“no.” came his immediate response, closing off any opportunities as he remain engrossed in his book.

it was a usual thing for you to do, pester him for fun with many favors. you knew that despite his protests, he would always give in to your whims. it was one of the things you adore about him actually, the lengths he’d go to make you feel better.

undeterred, you continued, pouting slightly. "but fushiguroo..."

“no.” he repeated firmly. “your one favor usually turns into a two favor, and a three—“

“i promise it’s only a favor this time!”

a wind brushed his black locks as he peered up from his book, letting out a slight forced sigh as he finally locked his eyes with yours. “just one favor.” he conceded, unable to resist your asks.

the smile of yours finally burst out, and the favor rolled off of your tongue. it was simple this time; you didn't have to use your pleading looks or other tricks to get him agreeing.

“can you summon some of your shikigamis? just wanna play with them.”

fushiguro's expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his initial resistance. he closed his book gently and set it aside, his attention fully on you now.

"alright," he relented, his tone warmer now. "i can do that, only for a short while."

you nodded eagerly, grateful for his concession. fushiguro had a way of understanding your needs even when you were being particularly bothersome. so you wasted no time in joining in the play, laughing and running around with his divine dogs. fushiguro watched with a fondness in his eyes, silently grateful for moments like these.

well, he too had other ideas. he certainly seems to have a knack for stirring up trouble and was definitely intentional. while you were distracted by the dogs swarming about you, he summoned an army of his rabbits—a large number of them—and they all jumped at you at once.

“do you want me to get killed from your rabbits?!” the shout was muffled as his rabbits covered quite every inch of your body. “did you tell them to come at me?!”

no, your bestfriend never ask his shikigamis to come at you the moment he summoned them. fushiguro megumi's shikigamis, his loyal companions, had a mind of their own. he never trained the dogs to nozzle around you, the rabbits to bounce over you, or nue to sit on your shoulder. for that they didn't heed the conventional rules of summoning or obedience; instead, they acted on their instincts, driven by an unspoken directive to protect and be close at all times—fushiguro megumi’s instincts to protect you and be close at all times.

“dunno,” picking up where he left off and submerging back to his pages. “maybe.”

“you’re such a prick!” the words burst forth as you try to get the rabbits off of you.

he watched you from a distance, his heart swelling with affection as you kept playing around with his shikigamis. but he still tried to held back his own smile, a silent observer in the background, content to bask in the warmth of your presence.

yet, as if on cue, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he could not hide it any longer.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[tteokdoroki]

gojo saying “oopsie daisy” when his baby girl falls over after her first steps could heal me !!!

like he can see she’s about to cry, bottom lip wobbling and big blue eyes all watery — so he scoops her up real quick and sets on her feet to try again. “oopsie daisy, thats no good.” gojo smiles at her to keep the tears in her eyes at bay. “let’s try again. you’re too quick for your own good, hot shot.”

and she’s like all giggly again, toddling around gojo :((

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ SECOND TIMELINE TO AS YOU LIKE IT ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

[omi-boshi]

"you gotta let me go, lovebug." kiyoomi rumbles, attempting to gently wiggle out of your baby's grasp. the lovebug in question only gurgles, happy to have her father's attention on her. it quirks a smile on kiyoomi's face. his amusement is short-lived, however, when the grip on his finger seemingly tightens in response and tightens even more when he wiggles just a tad harder.

his rising panic amuses you to no end.

at the sound of your quiet giggles, kiyoomi tears his gaze away the baby cradled in your arms to look you in the eye.

"a little help would be nice, you know?" he frowns. "our food's gonna be here any minute."

"i would love to but there's nothing i can really do when she's clinging like that, kiyo." you send him the most sympathetic smile you could muster with the laughter still bubbling up your throat. "you know how she gets."

and kiyoomi does—he really does. your daughter got it from you, after all.

[oct0bra1ns]

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ, I was wondering if I could request a yandere CEO who's well known to be the most powerful in the town and y/n who was offered to him and had a evolveving relationship?

Endless riches

pairing: Yandere CEO x reader TW: , yanderes, violence against others, notes : HIIII, HELLOOOO nananananan, brain empty reblogs and comments are appreciated!

♡ Yandere CEO who was handed down his position from his father, who used his status and looks to get with people, have his fun and leave them.

♡ Yandere CEO who's promiscuous behaviour was giving the company a questionable name and his father an endless amount of stress.

♡ Yandere CEO who's father threatens to rip the company from his hands unless he starts acting properly and finally settle down with someone to save face.

♡ Yandere CEO who picks you from the endless pile of candidates. Who uses his money to convince your parents to give you to him.

♡ Yandere CEO who doesn't mind when your defy everything he asks of you, who suddenly has a patience of a saint when dealing with you as opposed to when he's dealing with idiots.

♡ Yandere CEO who loves to buy you the most expensive items he can find, who funds all your activities and hell, he'll even pay for your college if you ever want to study anything.

♡ Yandere CEO who'll give you a job in his company if you insist on working and earning your own money. Though, it doesn't matter, he'll still cover all your expenses.

♡ Yandere CEO who adores having you on his arm during social events to show off, who flaunts your beauty everywhere but the moment anything comes too close, he'll make sure their company ends up bankrupt.

♡ Yandere CEO who makes sure everyone in town knows you're his. People don't have the courage to mess with you in fear they'll end up with no money.

♡ Yandere CEO who's pleasantly surprised when you finally accept your role as his spouse, making him meals, asking how his day was. Of course good behaviour deserves to be rewarded, as such he takes you out for dates more frequently know that he doesn't have to worry about you running off.

♡ Yandere CEO who books out the entire hotel if you're too nervous to eat In front of people or just don't like the noise.

♡ Yandere CEO who makes sure you never lack anything in life <3

[somewhereincairparavel]

okay but imagine. Thalia Grace, after Jason's death, in a fit of desperation, comes racing to Nico di Angelo, wanting him to summon his ghost, because she just wants to talk to her brother one last time. Before it's too late. Before he reaches Elysium, since the closest she could get to talking to her brother after he goes to the hero's paradise is through dreams, and that wasn't enough for her. Seeing his fragmented soul through dreams is not nearly good enough. She wants the message to reach him. The real him. Not a loomy remnant. She wants to apologise, as she feels her soul being hollowed out with guilt.

She should've looked for Jason, even after their mother told her that he's dead.

She shouldn't have been so busy with the hunters that she would have to cut their brother-sister conversation short.

She should've realised how much her brother craved her attention.

She should've come to the chb meeting that she'd promised jason she'd come to, she shouldn't have made her brother wait like a lost puppy.

The look in jason's eyes when she told him she'd have to leave was etched on to her face. Permanently scarring her soul.

She should've been a better sister. She failed him. She failed to make him feel wanted. She hoped Jason didn't face his death thinking that she didn't need him. Because Gods of Olympus, that would break her.

And she poured all of these gut wrenching thoughts to Nico, who suprisingly listened. Yes. Nico did resent Thalia for being in the hunters of Artemis, the same group that got his sister killed. But listening to Thalia pour her heart out to him, really hit a little too close to home. The daughter of Zeus seemed to echo a young nico, trying aimlessly to summon his sister's ghost to talk to her. They both had the same hollow red eyes, burning with hot tears streaming down, the same crease in the eyebrows, the same flicker of rage over their siblings's murder. At that moment, Thalia Grace looked as unthreatening as the king of all god's daughter could possibly look like.

But Nico was glad, that Thalia, atleast cared about her little brother to this extent. Up until this point, Nico had these lingering doubts if Bianca had really cared about him like this, she had dropped everything to join the hunters after all. Hearing Thalia talk about jason had healed his inner child. Maybe big sisters do think about their younger brothers, no matter how busy they appear to be... So he complied to her wishes. She deserved closure from her brother's death. It would do Jason some good too.

He poured all of his concentration into summoning the son of Jupiter, as Thalia anxiously chewed on her nails, pacing around the murky woods in anticipation. Until a wispy figure with rimmed glasses and neatly cropped hair, appeared in front of them.

"Hello, sis."

Nico di Angelo and Thalia Grace were more or less the same, when it came to wanting to make amends with their deceased sibling.

Except Thalia was the older sister who wanted her younger brother back, And Nico was the younger brother who wanted his older sister back.

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 04/08 // angst with a happy ending

wc: 2.3k // rating: G // cw: language // tags: post-s4, eddie lives, eddie in WITSEC, mutual pining, phone calls

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“So, where are you now?”

Steve knew he wasn’t going to get a real answer to this question—given that Eddie wasn’t allowed to say—but it was basically tradition at this point to ask. 

Eddie chuckled through the receiver. “Hmm… it’s windy. And cold as balls. Will probably start snowing soon.”

Steve raised his brows. “Snow? This early?”

Dustin, from Steve’s kitchen island, mirrored his look of interested surprise, and immediately started looking over the map laid out on the countertop. It was dotted with little red and yellow stickers and various scribblings.

“Yep,” Eddie responded, popping the P. “Pretty shit going out for a smoke, but lots of trees around, so the view is decent at least.”

“Lots of trees,” Steve repeats, with a pointed glance at Dustin, who hurriedly starts marking different spots on the map. 

“How’s Henderson’s map going?” Eddie asked, knowing by the tone what they were doing.

“It’s… going?” Steve responded with a shrug. “He thinks he’s worked out the movement system.”

“I have worked out the movement system, thank you very much,” Dustin snarked, not looking up at Steve. “We can track their movement from the West Coast back up North, hence the snow.”

Eddie laughs again. “Kid’s too smart for his own good.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve grumbles, moving away from the kitchen, as far as the cord allowed him to. He drops his voice low. “How you holding up?”

“I dunno,” Eddie sighs. “Same shit, different place… Same shitty government officials with the same shitty requirements.”

Steve wants to say so much, to reassure and comfort him, but holds back. Keeps it in. “How’s Wayne doing?”

“He’s alright, doesn’t love the cold…” Steve can picture Eddie looking over at where Wayne is probably sitting nearby. “Hopefully they’ll move us somewhere warmer next.”

“D’you know when that’ll be?” A small pit of anxiety swirls in Steve’s gut. As it did any time they spoke of Eddie needing to move.

“Nah, last time was six months, but time before was only three. Hopefully this is just another quick one.” Steve can hear Eddie chewing on his lip, can picture him playing with his hair.

“Steve!” Dustin calls from behind the wall. “Ask Eddie what kind of trees are around him!”

Steve snorts. “Did you get that one?”

“Tell him I have no idea,” Eddie deadpans. 

Lowering the receiver, Steve calls over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know, buddy.”

“What kind of trees…” Eddie grumbles, only slightly mocking. “I guess I can’t blame him for trying.”

“It’s how he deals.” Steve keeps his voice low. “He misses you. I miss you.” His brain scolds him—too much—and he quickly adds, “We all do.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, and Steve’s almost sure he hears him hit his head on the wall. “I miss you too. All of you.”

It was a thing that happened often, for how infrequently Eddie was able to call. A kind of vulnerability that Steve supposed came from the fact that they couldn’t see each other, and wouldn’t for a long time yet. They’d skirt around it, but it was there, pulled taut between them, ready to break with one wrong move.

“How much longer?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t already know, like he hasn’t been counting down the days since Eddie got taken away.

Eddie exhales heavily, the sound muffling through the receiver. “Bit under three years.” Steve can hear the sad smile in his voice.

“Right.” Steve leans back against the wall, head tilted back as longing shoots through his gut. They were almost at the halfway point. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just… couldn’t. Steve would wait.

Steve’s kicking snow off his boots at his front door when he hears the phone ring from inside. He bolts in, slipping on the floor slightly in his haste. 

“Hello?” he answers breathlessly.

“Hey.”

A wave of relief washes over him. “Eddie,” he breathes.

“You okay? Did I wake you up?” His tone immediately switches to one of concern.

“No, no, I just got back from the Henderson’s,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, willing his heart to calm down now that he’s answered the call. “We wanted to call you, but… y’know.”

“Yeah…” Eddie sighs. “I wish you could.”

The silence settles, and they just listen to each other breathe for several long moments. Steve knows that Eddie is holding back, the same way he is. Saying things that are only close to what they mean. Their quiet filled with unanswered questions and things they wish they could say. Finally, Eddie breaks it.

“Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah, just me tonight,” Steve says, shrugging his jacket off. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. Steve didn’t really think it was that funny. Their constant need to skirt around the thing developing between them led to him saying some dumb stuff. He rolls his eyes at himself.

“I don’t think I could handle talking to anyone else tonight,” Eddie says, voice growing soft. “It’d be, I dunno, too much. With you, I can just… be, y’know?”

Steve is surprised—as he often is—at the honesty. He tries to make his next words sound casual, but he’s sure he fails miserably. “I’m glad I caught you then.”

“Yeah… me too.” Eddie doesn’t let the silence linger for too long this time. “So, any new Henderson theories to update me on?”

Steve snorts. “Of course.”

Letting him talk about his day at the Henderson’s, Eddie hums in the right moments, asks a few follow up questions, makes little jokes, but is otherwise quiet, seemingly content to just let Steve ramble. Happy to hear his voice. He lets Steve talk until he’s yawning too much to complete a full sentence.

“Sorry, I should let you go to sleep, it’s late.” Eddie’s tone is gentle, but like he’d rather be saying anything else.

“Nah, it’s cool, man,” Steve argues sleepily. “Don’t wanna waste your call.”

“It’s never wasted with you.”

“Eddie…” Steve doesn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but doesn’t know if he should. If he even could. He yawns again.

“Come on, bed time,” Eddie’s voice teases.

Steve feels the pull of his eyelids, begging for sleep. “Yeah, alright… Talk to you soon?” He tries to ask it casually, but again, can’t seem to manage it. Something like pleading coming through in his words.

“As soon as I can,” Eddie promises, voice tight with sincerity. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Steve pauses. “Merry Christmas.”

He can hear the sad smile in Eddie’s voice. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“How much longer now?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer.

“Two and a bit years,” Eddie sighs. “Past halfway, at least.”

Even Steve can tell he’s trying to convince himself it’s a good thing, but neither of them feel any happiness about it.

It’s been almost six months since Steve heard from Eddie, much longer than any gap between calls before. Anxiety gnaws away at him, a constant presence whispering in the back of his mind and sitting like a stone in his stomach. The kids—barely even kids now, having graduated high school—were starting to show their worry. He begged and pleaded with invisible entities that they’d hear something soon.

The phone finally rings.

“Hello?” Steve answers with urgency, as he did every time it rang these days.

“Steve?” the voice croaks.

“Eddie!” Bringing a hand to his face, Steve’s eyes welled with tears. “Eddie, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures him, sounding anything but. “They just had us somewhere remote. We didn't have a phone.”

“What the fuck? Can they do that?” Quiet rage slips through Steve’s chest.

“Evidently, they can do whatever they want,” Eddie seethes. “Didn’t stop me from bringing hell at every check up until they moved us again.”

Steve winces at the pain in Eddie’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. It’s fucking awful, what they’re doing to you.”

“It’s bullshit!” Eddie snaps. “I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t believe this was their solution. Like, I’m the one demonised and hunted down in Hawkins and somehow I’m the one that ends up punished for it! It’s not even a solution. All it’s doing is fucking me around.” He takes a breath. “It’s hurting me. It’s hurting us.”

To anyone else, it would sound like Eddie meant him-and-Wayne-us, or even him-and-the-entire-party-us. But Steve knew. Heard it in the way he almost whispered it. Steve wanted to match his anger, throw something, hit something. Instead, he willed it down.

“It fucking sucks,” Steve says, keeping his tone soft. “But we’re so close to the end now. It’ll be over soon.”

“I just…” Eddie’s voice lowers. Steve can picture the way the air deflates out of him. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish… you could’ve come with me.”

“Me too.” Steve lets the back of his head hit the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” Eddie says it like it’s painful. Like it gets caught in his throat halfway up. Like he was saying something else entirely.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I called when I don’t really have anything to say.” It’d been close to silent for more than five minutes before Eddie says it, voice soft. Almost timid.

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice at all. To know you’re alive.”

The silence settles between them again. Comfortable, somehow. Eddie’s voice is smaller when he speaks again. “Only six months left.”

“Only six months,” Steve repeats, slightly more optimistic.

“We can… we can do it, right?” Eddie sounds so unsure. Steve can picture him playing with his hair. “It’ll be okay? When you visit?”

Steve knows what he means. He’s felt the same way for a long time. Scared that once they’re reunited, whatever this thing was—this delicate bubble of vulnerability—between them would burst. Each phone call found it wound tighter and tighter, pulled like a rubber band that would eventually reach its limit and snap, hurting both of them in the process. 

“It’ll be more than okay,” Steve says, sounding more sure than he feels. He wants more than anything to be able to hold him. To reach through the phone and wrap his arms tightly around him, feel the rise and fall of his breath and listen to his heartbeat.

“Promise?” Eddie asks, and Steve can picture him chewing on his nails.

“Promise.”

“One month left,” Steve whispers in the dead of night. No one else is there, but something about the late hour makes him quiet. Or maybe it’s what he’s saying. Like a wish that needs to be kept secret, or it won’t come true.

“One month,” Eddie repeats, just as soft. “You’ll be here?”

“Wherever you are, I’ll be there,” Steve assures him.

He’s sure Eddie can feel it too. The thing between them growing more palpable, more solid, more real. The less time they have left, the stronger it becomes. It terrifies both of them.

The car stops in an urban area of Chicago. Steve glances around as he gets out of the backseat, giving a quick thanks to the government official who drove him. His heart races. This is it. Double checking the address on the small piece of paper, he looks up to the block of apartment buildings, scanning the numbers.

Steve doesn’t need to look for long. At the next building, standing in the entryway, with his curly hair pulled into a messy bun, shadow of facial hair around his jaw, face more angular than Steve remembers, is—

“Eddie…” The name comes out in a soft breath, like a prayer. His eyes well up and he quickly blinks, as though the man might disappear if Steve couldn’t see him.

Whatever was holding Eddie to the stoop of his building breaks. He jumps down, skipping the stairs completely and landing with a thud of his boots. He runs, as quick as his legs allow him, until he crashes into Steve, almost knocking them both to the ground. With his arms around Steve’s neck, Eddie whispers his name over and over. Steve pulls him tight, arms wrapped around his waist. Steve can feel Eddie’s heartbeat matching his—racing, pounding, about to jump out of his chest. They hold each other like they’ll never let go, afraid that all of it could be taken away again.

Finally, Eddie pulls back, one hand softly entangled in Steve’s hair, and looks at him, huge eyes filled with tears. “You look different,” Eddie says with a wet laugh.

Steve can’t help but smile. “In a good way?”

Eddie nods with enthusiasm, grinning despite the tears. “In a really good way.”

Their eyes are locked on each other, and Steve can’t hold back anymore. He leans in, cautiously at first, before Eddie gives him a tiny nod, leaning in to meet him halfway. Their lips finally meet, crashing together, and Steve gasps at the feeling. It’s messy and desperate and shy. It’s everything they wished they could say, given to each other in their kiss. Steve brings his hands up to hold Eddie’s face, feeling the tears spill over and wiping them away with his thumbs.

They pull back, laughing and crying. Steve kisses him again and again and again, on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, before finally just looking, taking in every detail of Eddie’s face. The deep brown of his eyes, the thick lashes, the faint dusting of freckles across his nose. “I’m never letting you go. Never again.”

Eddie laughs again. It sounds like a sob. “Never again. You promise?”

“I promise,” Steve says reverently. “I love you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s smile grows wider, a fresh lot of tears spilling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”