#Intern will go back and fix this post when they are awake again

[narnian-neverlander]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again [Machine Herald Viktor x GN!Reader]

Preview: “You’re the one who decided he’d rather forget every moment, every laugh, every touch we shared like they all meant nothing! You’re the one who tore out his heart without a second thought and threw it away even though it was mine! And all the while you’re leaving me with the burden of it all! I’m the only person alive who still holds our time together dear to their heart now! Do you have any idea how heavy memories can be? How maddening?! And these—“ you bring your hands up between the two of you, all sleek, perfect metal, the spitting image of him. “You gave me these for all the world to see and left me with yet another reminder of you! Like I needed more of those to know that I am still and always will be irrevocably yours! And now you tell me that it wouldn’t matter if there��s any part of you, however small, that still thinks of yourself as mine?! Fuck you, Viktor!”

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 10,7k

Warnings: slight body horror/modifications, suicidal thoughts, canon typical violence (injuries and blood, mentions of torture, mentions of character death, alluded murder)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Does a broken rib from too much coughing count as the AO3 curse yet cause wow this took way longer than expected. Anyways, Epic x Arcane has been bouncing around my head since Season 2 came out, but this was inspired by this post from @le-fruit-de-la-passion cause I saw that and I’ve been internally screaming over it ever since 💁

Happy Valentine’s everybody 💞

Nothing had been the same since you woke up.

It’s to be expected, it had been almost two years after all.

Two years since the explosion. Two years since half the council had died. Two years since any attempt at peace between the two cities had been shattered. Two years that you had spent blissfully unaware of all of this; a coma keeping you trapped within the confines of a hospital bed and your own mind.

You’d expected pain after coming back to your senses; it was the last thing you remembered before the world had went dark. But you’d slept through most of your recovery. Through your wounds turning into scars. Through your muscles growing weak from disuse. Your hands were a different story, though. They didn’t so much hurt, only at times, as they were simply numb. Shattered bones and nerve damage had made them mostly useless and that was not something any amount of time would simply fix.

Not everything had completely changed, though, you’d found. You’d been awake for not more than an hour when Jayce had burst through the doors of your hospital room. And sure, he’d looked different: his hair longer, a beard, the white and gold that had always dominated his outfits replaced with black and silver, a brace on one of his legs and a cane at his side. But the relief in his hazel eyes when he’d found his friend conscious was familiar. The way his hug had felt. And how he’d completely avoided your gaze when you’d asked about your lover.

He’s gone. I’m so sorry, but… he’s gone.

He’d expected you to cry, scream, anything. But you hadn’t. You’d merely nodded, as numb as your broken hands, and had thanked him for coming to see you. Had told him to go back to his work, he must certainly be busy after all. And it had torn him apart, to see you, someone he’d always known as energetic and joyful, so tired, so apathetic. The very least for him to do had been to offer his help in any way he could, including finding a doctor that would fix your hands. He’d been more than reluctant to leave you, but you’d asked for some time alone to rest and he could hardly deny you that - it had still taken him a good ten minutes more to actually take his leave, with promises of a soon return and to simply send for him if you needed anything.

You’d settled back into the bed, fully intent on going back to sleep and pretending you’d be able to wake up in a different world, but the sun had caught on something metallic on your bedside table, hidden behind flowers and cards. You’d reached for it with stiff, unsteady fingers, almost sending the small, scratched up, mechanical cat crashing to the ground; luckily it had just ended up bouncing off your leg and then settling in your lap.

You’d stared at the little robotic feline in astonishment for a long time, unblinking amber eyes staring right back, like it would tell you who had brought it here, when it should’ve been sitting on a shelf in your apartment. Like it would give you all the answers and solutions in the world. An answer to your pain. To the hopelessness creeping in. To the feeling of your heart slowly shattering.

I’m coming back for you. I’ll find a way to fix you, to fix us both, and then I’m coming back for you, I promise.

It had almost made you drop your precious possession all over again, breaths heavy and migraine pounding in the back of your skull. And your racing mind had very clearly told you that there’s no recollection of ever having heard him say anything like this, your aching heart replying that it had been an idle wish, nothing more.

This idle wish comes back to you know, lying bruised and bloody and dazed in a ditch somewhere in Zaun. The people you’d been sent to for help had turned out to be anything but the kind, generous researches they’d made themselves look like; only interested in their own profit, gained on the backs of the helpless and the beaten. And after months of more pain and suffering, once you’d no longer been of use, your body even more mutilated and damaged than before, you’d been discarded like the trash they viewed you as. Face in the dirt, body and mind exhausted and screaming for rest, just a small respite, you consider letting go. Consider closing your eyes and just letting eternal rest take you; you don’t have anything left, after all. No home to go back to. No loved ones waiting for you.

Your shattered psyche seems to welcome the idea more than anything; through blurry vision you swear you see your lost beloved right in front of you, like it’s just another lazy morning spent in bed together. A warm hand cupping your cheek, gentle amber eyes, voice still raspy and accent thick from sleep. Telling you to go back to sleep. That it’s okay to rest. You blink and he’s gone.

He’s gone. I’m so sorry, but… he’s gone.

I’m coming back for you. I’ll find a way to fix you, to fix us both, and then I’m coming back for you, I promise.

A cry for help, created from a desperate mind and a broken heart. A fantasy. Wishful thinking. Nothing more. No one would be coming for you. Nobody would know or care if you just laid down to die right here. But there’s still a part of you, tiny as it may be, that wants to live. That under no circumstances wants to die on the same streets you once crawled your way out of, while your tormentors get rich on your suffering and are left with no consequences. Your blood’s starting to boil, powering you like a steam engine, getting you up on your hands and knees, groaning and whimpering in pain as you hopelessly try to get your feet back under you.

Peace is for the dead, revenge is for the living.

It’s what forces you towards the city limits on wobbly, clumsy legs, one stumbling step at a time. If revenge would be your only reason to live, then so be it. You’d take it over simply giving up and being forgotten; your body left to rot in the dirt.

So you live off scraps and garbage. Get your quick bouts of rest on dark, dirty street corners. Collect herbs from the riverbed, as scarce as they may be, to fight off the infections you incurred. It’s not pretty or elegant and you can barely call it living, but you’re alive. And eventually you catch rumors, whispers, only spoken in the same shadows you’ve now spent months living in: rumors of a healer. Well, some call him that. Others revere him as a god. Others fear him as a monster, more machine than man. But they all agree on two things: that he’s the one to go to if you’re in desperate need of help and have nothing left to lose. And where to find him.

The gate to the house on Emberflit Alley is old and bent and rusted. Not locked, but your stiff, useless fingers have enough trouble opening it anyways. The front door is a different story entirely, encrusted with interlocking gears to keep you and anyone else out unless invited in. So you knock and you wait. And then you repeat that process. Until it becomes clear that either no one is home or that a disturbance isn’t currently wanted. You’re not about to give up so easily though, so you step off the porch and start making your way around the house in search of any windows to knock on instead or maybe even break if necessary. It’s dusk by now and the ever present fog that always seems to cling to this area of the Lanes isn’t making your job much easier; your foot inevitably catches on something, a loose brick or a protruding pipe maybe, and sends you stumbling, falling and while you manage to catch yourself against the brick wall, your flailing palm ends up going straight through a window.

Perfect. You hadn’t actually been serious about breaking and entering. Not entirely, anyways. Trying to assess the damage to your hand in the dimly lit alley, you’re distracted enough to not pick up on the sound of a door opening and you only notice the heavy footsteps when they stop right behind you.

“You’re persistent if nothing else, I will give you that.”

The voice is deep, warped, with a mechanical echo to it, but it’s the accent that sends an unwelcome and unexpected twinge to your heart. You turn around very slowly and carefully, prey about to get caught by something terrible, and gulp when you actually need to crane your head back and look up cause fuck, he’s tall. At least a head taller than you, with a broad frame, all heavy armor and pieces of metal, a sharp, three pronged claw pulsing with energy pointed right at you from over his shoulder and a mask with only two hollow, glowing, yellow eyes staring back at you. He’s an imposing, unforgiving presence and you’re starting to understand why people only come to him as a last resort. But you’d come this far and he’s right, you’re persistent, stubborn, if nothing else, for better or for worse.

“I was— No one was opening the door and I was just trying to— Are you the Herald?” It’s a redundant question, really. “It’s what they insist on calling me.” Okay, you’re having a conversation. Sorta. That’s progress. “They also say that you… help people?” He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side and while you might not be able to see his eyes, you can feel them taking you in from head to toe. “To the best of my abilities. What would you need help with?” You falter for a second. “It’s uhm… a lot, really, but mostly my hands?” Most people have always reacted with disgust or pity and you don’t expect him to be much different, so the way you bring your hands in front of you for him to see is slow and hesitant. He leans forward for a better look and you fight the urge to back away and flee. It’s quiet, too quiet, the way he’s so intensely studying you and your injuries unnerving and the metal claw that looks like it could tear you in half opening and closing and rotating as if in thought is most definitely not helping your anxiety. Finally, he straightens up and turns around. “Follow me.” He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he check to see if you actually do follow him, merely strides back inside the house, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

The halls that he leads you through have dozens of motionless automatons leaning against the walls, the room you eventually arrive in is lined with shelves of glass jars containing organic and metal organs floating in green fluid and in the far corner a leather gurney with a mechanized drill laid upon it and stains you don’t want to think too hard about. Fortunately, he doesn’t lead you over to that, but instead to a workbench cluttered with machinery and tools and blueprints. He sits in the old, rusty chair and then drags out a little stool from under the table, gesturing for you to copy him while he reaches above his head and fiddles with what is revealed to be a bright, neon lamp when it finally flickers to life, blinding you for a moment and leaving spots in your vision. You do as your told and finally place your hands in his when he holds out his own, one gloved and from what you can tell human, the other solid metal.

There’s a certain gentle diligence with which he conducts his examination, something you most definitely didn’t expect, but it puts your frayed nerves at ease. It also triggers a memory from long ago, an accident in the lab, that had ended with you curled up against your boyfriend’s shoulder while Jayce had carefully picked glass shards from your palms. A slight shake of your head brings you back to the present; a different life, it no longer matters. It’s silent between you two, except for the occasional question from his side that you answer truthfully. Eventually, he sits back and switches off the lamp above you. “Your hands can not be salvaged; the damage is too severe and was left insufficiently treated for too long. If you want full use of them back, they will need to be replaced.” He says it like it’s the most logical, natural thing in the world and to him it must be, but to you? It leaves you stunned, mouth going dry. “So I’d lose them entirely…?”

“You already have,” he states matter of factly. “Now it’s just a matter of wether you’re insisting on clinging on to broken, useless flesh and bone for the sake of sentimentality or if you’d rather exceed your human limitations and be able to return to a normal life.” It takes everything you have not to laugh bitterly; new hands or not, you weren’t going back to your old, normal life anytime soon. But he’s right nonetheless. “And you can do that? Replace them? Make them work like before?” You can’t be certain, with the mask’s filter and all but it almost sounds like he scoffs in offense. He waves his own hand in front of your face and flexes his fingers for show; dark, solid metal, expertly welded and crafted together to create a perfectly functioning hand. “Naturally.”

There’s nothing for you to think about anymore. “Okay. Yeah, I… that sounds good. Except…” Maybe there is one thing to think about. “I can’t… pay you for it. B-but I can work it off! Or I could—“ he decisively cuts you off with, “I do not take payment for my work.” And your jaw actually drops, because there is no way anyone in this world would offer services like this for free. There always has to be an angle, something to be gained. “Right. So you just do this out of the goodness of your fucking heart? Do you even have one? A heart, I mean.” He stands to his full height and it hits you like a ton of bricks that you just followed a complete stranger into the confines of his home. A stranger twice your size that would have no trouble turning you into parts for his future experiments. A stranger that has a reputation on Zaun’s streets as an unhinged monster. And it seems like you might’ve hit a nerve.

But he merely reaches past you, for something behind you on the table and comes back with a pair of tweezers and gauze and then proceeds to remove the parts of his window that are still stuck in one of your palms. Right. Since you can’t really feel them, you’d forgotten all about them. “Of course not. And to answer your question, no, I got rid of my heart a long time ago; it was of no use to me any longer. I only ask that you stay here during your recovery so I can oversee the adjustment process. Document it to further my research. You will be paying me in information, knowledge, progress. That is worth more than any gold or jewels you could throw at me.” Your own heart is going a mile a minute after that scare, but you’re slowly coaxing your body to calm back down. If he truly wanted to harm you, he would’ve done so by now. “And you’re sure that’s enough?” A sigh, as if he’s forced to explain something overly simplistic to a child over and over again. “You can bring any scrap metal you may find on the streets to me, if that will make you feel better.” You snort in amusement. “Okay, sure, you got yourself a deal. Sooooo… now what?”

He pauses wrapping your hand for a moment and turns his unblinking gaze to you again. “Malnourished, sick or overly exhausted people make for greater risks, both during surgery and recovery.” You flinch because you damn well know that you check all of those boxes. And you’re sure he knows it, too. “Yeah, well it’s not like I can snap my fingers and magically be healthy again. If I could, I wouldn’t be here. Besides, do you know where you live? You can’t tell me that every Zaunite who comes in here is of picture perfect health?”

“No, I just thought you should be made aware. We can perform the procedure tomorrow, at least get some sleep before that; surely that’s not too difficult?” It almost sounds patronizing and you realize you’ve gained back, or rather are rediscovering a part of yourself you haven’t used in a long time in the few minutes you’ve been talking to him: the defiant smartass. “Of course I can do that, I’m not an imbecile. There’s a brothel owner who owes me a favor, I’m sure I can get her to cough up a bed for the night.” He’s doesn’t look up from putting the finishing touches on your bandages, but apparently he still feels the need to state, “And leave with more diseases than you came with?” Had he just called you diseased? “I’ll have you know I don’t have anything contagious, thank you very much. I don’t think. And it’s that or sleep out on the streets again, so…”

“Or you could just stay here.”

You barely manage a very intelligent ‘Huh?!’ in return.

“You will return here tomorrow anyways. And stay here for your recovery. One night will not make a difference.”

Your eyes flit over to the leather couch in the corner; it’s clearly old and worn, missing an armrest and has obvious tears in the leather. Truly, you shouldn’t be this comfortable around him so quickly, but it’s still the closest thing to an actual bed you’d had in months so you’d take it.

“If it’s okay with you.” you shrug and quickly walk over to the sofa, dropping the bag that contains whatever little belongings you have left to the floor and then promptly collapse on it in an exhausted heap of limbs. That seems to break some of his composed facade as you catch him physically startling in your peripheral while you’re busy shrugging out of one of your coats and turning it into a makeshift pillow. “There is a room upstairs, with a bed, entirely unused. You can sleep there.” But you’re drowsy already, the worn leather surprisingly soft and pliant against your battered body. “So you don’t sleep, I assume; noted. And don’t worry, I don’t snore, so I won’t interrupt your… your work. You won’t… even know… I’m…” You’re out cold before you’ve finished your sentence and it takes all of half a minute before you’re lightly snoring. Liar. But he knew that already.

A heavy sigh and then he’s up, grabbing the blanket and pillow from the bed upstairs; replacing the bunched up coat under your head and pausing before he covers your body with the thick, warm fabric. Your skin has lost color, you’re underweight, he most definitely caught you limping earlier and those are just the things he could tell from a first glance. Your hands would be an easy enough matter to fix, but the rest would take time and care. He covers you with the blanket and you immediately snuggle up into it until only your hair is barely poking out. So you still hate the cold, then. Just like you’re still defiant and mouthy. It’s ridiculous how much you haven’t changed in direct contrast to him; changed so vastly and completely, of course you wouldn’t recognize him.

Carefully dragging down the blanket and the backs of your several layers of clothing, he indeed finds a series of numbers and letters branded into the skin at the back of your neck, as expected. He recognizes their shoddy handiwork by now; you weren’t the first Zaunite to come through his door after they’d fallen victim to that group. But you’d most definitely be the last. He gathers some things from around the lab and finally grabs his staff from where it’s leaning against the wall, gem at the top crackling with energy; one last look at your curled up form and then he’s out of the door, leaving you resting in his lab.

You’re warm, comfortable. It’s quiet and you actually feel well rested. All of that is so utterly foreign to you, it frightens you back to consciousness, makes you startle awake and fall off whatever you’d been asleep on in the process. Blind panic as you untangle yourself from a blanket you don’t remember having and stagger back to your feet, wild eyes searching for the closest threat.

Dim lighting breaking through murky windows, shelves stocked organs, a bloody gurney in the far corner and a hunched over figure at a workbench, their back currently turned to you as a clawed contraption over their shoulder emits a thin, precise ray of light.

“I do not appreciate getting lied to.”

There’s a part of your mind screaming at you that you know this voice, this person, this place, but the terrified haze you’re in yields little room for rationality as he shuts off the laser and turns around to face you, features covered by a mask with nothing but a set of glowing yellow eyes.

“You do, in fact, snore.”

It’s like a switch gets flipped, the haze lifts as you realize that you’re safe and you collapse back into the couch in a relieved heap, breaths still frenzied and heart still trying to jump out of your chest. “Right. Sorry.” He doesn’t comment any further, simply gets back to whatever it is he was working on before, leaving you to recover by yourself. It takes a few minutes, but once you consider yourself sufficiently calmed, you sit back up on the couch cross legged, blanket draped over your shoulders, wanting to apologize and thank him properly, but looking at him gives you pause.

He seems… smaller somehow than the night before. You find your answer in a heap of metal scattered around his workbench: big, cumbersome pieces of armor. Armor that you remember seeing on him yesterday, that you’d just assumed to be irremovable parts of his body. What you most definitely do not recall are the dents, scratches and the dried blood all over the metal. Nervously flitting your gaze back to him, you see what he’s working on is actually himself; laser directed at a part of his chest that he seems to be welding shut. And you’re taken aback at how much skin there is - human skin. The entirety of his chest and his right arm are sleek steel, interlocking gears and mechanisms, flawlessly shifting into each other as he moves, thin glowing panels pulsing with energy from hidden engines. And there’s definitely more metal at his right hip, disappearing into the waistband of his pants, but other than that…

His left arm is mostly pale skin, scarred flesh at his shoulder connecting to the dark steel; a wired glove slipped over his slender fingers seemingly controling the movements of the claw over this shoulder. His stomach and waist are still incredibly human too, if nothing else because of the dark purple bruise forming against his skin. He’s nowhere near as much machine as you’d expected, not to mention he looks… hurt. Had he been in a fight? Gotten attacked?

You open your mouth to ask, but think better of it before any sound can come out. It really has nothing to do with you; what he does in his own time is none of your business. It still feels off, to infringe on his time and help and not even ask if he’s alright when clearly, something that you’re not privy to has happened. Never one to leave well enough alone, you grab your bag from the floor and start sorting through the collection of herbs you’ve managed to acquire over time. Once you’ve found the ones you’re looking for, you package them into the most clean rag you have in your possession and tie it shut; uncrossing your legs you walk over to him and place the haphazardly made package on the table, careful not to disturb him. The movement still gets his attention and even with the mask’s filter, confusion is clear as day in his voice as he asks, “What is that and what is it doing on my workbench?”

“It’s an herbal remedy, for uhm… bruises and the like?” you explain, vaguely gesturing at his waist. “You soak it in boiling water and then put it on the effected area; it helps with swelling and pain.” It’s silent for a few long seconds, then, “I see. Thank you.” Not even remotely close to anything you were readying yourself for as a response, but it makes something within your chest beam with pride. You don’t even realize you’re still staring until he points it out and is met with, “You’re just… not exactly what I expected.”

“A monster?”

The laugh you let out is so shockingly soft, it almost startles him. “You’ve got a reputation, sure, and you’re… intimidating at first glance, I’ll give you that, but… I’ve met plenty of monsters in my life and none of them were anything like you. In fact, all of them looked and acted remarkably, ordinarily human at first.” There’s no further elaboration from your side and your gaze is distant, mind somewhere far away from here. He almost calls your name, but it occurs to him in the nick of time that you never actually introduced yourself. You’ve been here for less than twenty four hours and already he’s slipping, making mistakes; he can’t have that, so he drives the conversation in a direction he has control over. “I am almost finished with my repairs, I can get the general anesthetic started so we can proceed with your surgery as quickly as possible.”

Wild, hot panic takes over your gaze and he fully expects you to bolt out the front door with how you flinch and take a step away from him. “I need be under for the surgery? Can’t you do like, local anesthesia on my arms?” He hesitates; he’s never known you to be afraid of medical procedures, so what’s the problem? “First off, I will not be replacing both of your hands at the same time. Too risky and you’ll be completely incapacitated; we’re going to start with only one today. And no, in theory, you do not have to be under full anesthesia, however, we are talking about a delicate and unusual kind of surgery; I can not promise that it will be painless while you’re still conscious.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind the pain, I just… I wanna have some agency in what gets done to my body from here on out.”

Ah. So that’s it. One glance at the dried blood still clinging to his armor on the floor and he feels the rage from last night raise it’s ugly head again. He shoves that right back down, cursing internally, before he answers you, voice level and betraying nothing. “All right. It will not be a pretty sight, though.” You shrug, as nonchalant as if he’d just told you about dinner plans. “I mean, I don’t have to watch directly. But I’m gonna admit, I am curious.”

The curiosity lasts for all of the first cut into your flesh, then you turn your head away and simply let him work in silence; wouldn’t want to distract the man currently flaying you open and re-wiring your nerve endings. Luckily, there’s only the occasional pinch and pull, but you stay pain free otherwise. Recovery after the procedure is a different story entirely though; painful and arduous and time consuming. And you’re more than a little surprised at how diligently the Herald takes care of you. Keeping a close eye on his newest test subject, that’s what you write it off as at first. But as the weeks go by there’s a certain familiar domesticity that sneaks into your routine and you find yourself talking with him more and more. Well, it’s mostly you talking, but he listens; you know because the day after you complained about the room you’d been staying in feeling too dark, you’d come back from an errand to find the windows cleaned, the curtains gone and some mismatched lamps placed around the room. It’s a sweet, quiet kind of constant reassurance and you can’t help the way your heart warms at it; so much like what you’d been used to from your lost love.

The day you pick up a glass of water all by yourself, without spilling anything and the glass noticeably cold against your fingers, you almost weep with joy and just barely hold yourself back from tackling him in a hug. Instead you busy yourself with touching as many things in his lab as you can get your one properly functioning hand on - which means you miss the way he so openly stares at you, obvious even with his mask hiding his features. He hasn’t seen you this happy and energized since you showed up on his doorstep. It makes some part in chest whir conspicuously and it almost feels like something is overheating, so he quickly turns away and grabs a random, discarded project from his workbench to fiddle with.

“Do you… ya know, eat?”

It’s a random question, even for you, but he answers nonetheless. He’s used to it by now.

“I no longer require it as a form of energy replenishment, no.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, that doesn’t answer my question, though. You don’t have to, but do you? Sometimes?”

“I fail to comprehend why we are having this conversation in the first place.” He doesn’t put down his tools, nor does he look at you.

Okay, fair point.

“Well, I uh… I used to be a chef, had my own restaurant and everything? And since one of my hands finally works again I figured I’d like to give cooking something a try? And if you have a favorite, I could make it for you? As thanks for… well, for giving me a hand?” It’s not one of your finer jokes, you will admit, so you’re not surprised he doesn’t laugh. Not that you’ve ever heard him laugh at anything, for that matter. He doesn’t react at all, except for, “I told you, I do not take payment for my work. Are we done with this fruitless conversation now?” It stings more than you’d like, to have him dismiss your tries at kindness like that, even though you know it’s not personal.

“Right, yeah, sorry. It’s just… cooking’s the only thing I’ve ever been good for and I like to be some sort of useful so… but you’re right, it’s stupid. I’ll let you get back to work.”

Because if I stopped being useful, then… maybe he wouldn’t want me anymore. Maybe he’d leave me behind for something better.

It was years ago, he shouldn’t remember you saying it as clearly as he does. Nor the way you’d looked then; all teary eyed and vulnerable, in front of him and only him. He shouldn’t remember and much less should he still care. He finds himself putting down his tools anyways.

“Sweetmilk.”

It doesn’t even register that he’s talking to you at first, considering you’re already halfway out the door to give him some peace and quiet. “P-pardon?”

“Sweetmilk.” he repeats. “It’s technically not food, but a weakness of mine and it’s still made on a stove. However, I am out of—“

“I got it! I’ll go get everything; I know how to make it!” The biggest grin on your face, you’re out of his lab in an instant and he hears the front door open and close not long after that.

There’s an actual skip in your step as you make your way down the street, there’s no other way to put it.

You are no fool. It’s in the way he hyperfocuses on his work. In the way his place is always a mess, right down to how his tools and notes clutter his desk. In the way what little sunlight manages to reach this part of the Lanes catches in his chestnut hair when it filters through the windows. In the little vocal mannerisms and gestures that you remember oh so well, that he apparently was unable to remove, no matter how much of a perfect machine he claims himself to be. It’s all right there, it had been from the start, this had just been the final push you’d needed. The final push to actually let yourself hope.

You are no fool. He knows this. He knows this and yet he let you have this. This tiny, obsolete, aggravating piece of information that has now turned him into the fool instead. He’s certain you’ve already figured it out, how could you not have? With the way you were immediately way too comfortable around him? With the way you sometimes talked about yourself, your past, just naturally assuming he’d be able to fill in the blanks, cause to him, they weren’t blanks at all? With the way it had been so easy to slip back into old, dangerously domestic habits with you? This had simply been the final nail in the coffin, yours or his, he isn’t sure; he is sure, however that you do not belong here in his oh so carefully crafted solitude.

Over two years. That’s how long it had taken him to put himself back together again. To rid himself of the parts the Hexcore had already infected, tainted, taken from his control. To replace his dying lungs. To make sure he didn’t fall apart again after every second step. To ensure he was no longer weak. And then he’d come for you, intending to save you, make you whole again, but you’d been gone. Disappeared from your hospital bed, from Piltover all together it had seemed. He’d crossed several lines in his search for you, even the ones he’d set for himself; namely never asking for help from his former best friend and partner again. In the end, the only thing he’d accomplished had been to widen the ever growing rift between them, no step closer to you. So he’d done the only thing he could still think of: rip his heart straight from his chest to maybe, hopefully, get rid of the agony right along with it; erase the joyful memories that held nothing but misery anymore. And it had worked; everything inside him dulled and numbed enough to simply drown himself in his work with no interferences. Until you’d stumbled back into his life. And things should be different, he shouldn’t care about you anymore outside of how you can further his research, but they’re not. The way the two of you still fit together so effortlessly is disgustingly, hauntingly familiar and he has to put a stop to it. He has chosen to live like this, in isolation and loneliness, he would not force it on you in the name of some long forgotten affection.

Perfect opportunity strikes some days later, while he’s in the process of replacing your second hand and you question him about his own augmentations. So he tells you about his weak leg and his collapsing lungs like you don’t already know. Watches the smile vanish from you lips and your face fall as he explains how he removed his connections to people from his past.

“So you… you don’t remember anyone who used to be a part of your life? Family, friends, lovers?”

“I remember them just fine, I simply got rid of any unnecessary emotional attachments associated with them. I remember my mother’s lullabies, I do not miss them any longer. I remember the discussions with my old partner, yet I no longer look at them fondly. I remember the lazy mornings spent with my lover, but I don’t yearn for them anymore.”

You visibly flinch at that last one and he merely warns you to stay still, like he doesn’t know what hearing all of this must do to you. It goes quiet between you two afterwards and any glance he steals at you confirms his theory, proves that his action had the desired reaction: the cogs are turning in your head and the longer they do, the more the despair and grief start to show on your face; realization that he is no longer the man you knew and that you no longer have a place by his side. It’s quick, simple work to finish your surgery and he decides to leave you be, give you time to let the new information he provided you with sink in and with some trivial errands used as a quick excuse, you’re left sitting alone on a rickety old stool in his lab.

And you stay seated for a long while, still and unmoving, blankly staring off into the distance as you hopelessly try to process what he just revealed to you. The love you hold for him hasn’t diminished in the slightest, no matter how much he might claim to have changed, but what’s it worth if you’re nothing but a stranger to him now? If the affections he’d had for you in return were lost to his quest of a perfect evolution?

You’re unsure what compels you to rise from your seat, to stroll across the room and absentmindedly trail your fingers across the books on one of his shelves. Maybe you’re simply trying to distract your mind from spiraling further down into the dark abyss of hoplessness it’s currently headed for. Maybe a part of you already knows that this is not meant to last and you’re trying to commit everything to memory through touch alone, now that he’s returned that sensation to you. The very last thing you expect is for one of the spines to catch your attention and for just a moment, you’re back in your old apartment, your old life. Hurriedly pulling the book from it’s spot you find that you are in fact correct, this used to belong to you. The corners of the dark blue cover are frayed and the golden lettering faded, but you recognize it anyways; you’d lent it to him years ago and he’d just never gotten around to giving it back. Which still doesn’t explain what it’s doing here, surely he doesn’t have any use for it anymore. You gingerly dust it off, careful not to over exert your new fingers, and crack it open only for a little slip of paper to immediately come fluttering out and land on the floor in front of you. Picking it up, you find only two words written in a handwriting you know all too well.

Lavender = devotion

The memories flood your mind wether you want them to or not; memories of your absolute mess of a first date. Of the meticulously crafted bouquet of flowers he’d gotten you, based on the book you’d lent him.

Putting the paper back with the page containing it’s corresponding flower, you quickly rifle through the rest of the book and find plenty more notes still left within the pages, all in his handwriting.

Iris = hope, trust

Alstroemeria = mutual support, fascination

Carnations = sincere love, respect, new beginnings

The last entry you come across doesn’t have a written note with it. Instead you find a picture: the two of you, slumped together on the sofa in the lab, all tangled limbs and sleepy intimacy, blissfully unaware of your friend sneaking this picture. It’s marking the pages for camellias and you don’t need a note or a proper look at the information in the book to know what they symbolize; not when you can clearly remember him telling you.

Eternal love. I’m yours for as long as you want. If you’ll have me.

The book slips from your fingers, landing open on the floor with a dull thump as you go right along with it, knees hitting the wood beneath you hard as you curl in on yourself and sob, photograph cradled close against your chest.

It’s the first time you’ve cried, some still coherent part of your mind realizes. Since waking up. Since being imprisoned and tortured. Since coming here. Since being forced to accept stroke after stroke of fate that had irreversibly changed your life entirely against your will or control. So you cry and you weep and you scream at the top of your lungs. For yourself and everything you’ve had to endure. For all you’ve lost. For the life you could’ve had.

You have to leave. You have to. Or you’d spend the the rest of your life desperately trying to rekindle a love that no longer exists. A final glance at the picture still held in your hands and you consider taking it; he wouldn’t miss it, he probably doesn’t even know it’s still here. But the people in that photograph are long gone and it would cause you nothing but more grief, so what’s the point? You drop it between the pages you’d found it in and shove the book back into its’ spot on the shelf before scrambling to your feet and beginning to gather your things strewn across his house. And you could’ve left then and there, things packed and mind made up. You probably should have. But it doesn’t feel quite right either, just disappearing without a trace. So you sit on the bed you’ve called your own for the past weeks and you wait. Until you hear him come home in the middle of the night and the urge to sprint downstairs, throw a quick goodbye and thank you over your shoulder and slam the door on this entire sad, miserable chapter of your life is there. But you don’t. You can’t. Because despite everything, you still want a proper goodbye - you didn’t get one last time, after all. Except you have no idea how you’d go about that, so you stay right where you are and rack your brain. Until dawn breaks and you’re no closer to a solution, so you drag your tired body off the bed and make your way downstairs; you’re just looking for more excuses to stay at this point.

Of course you find him at his workbench, where else, most of his heavier armor discarded and Hexclaw dimantled in front of him as he diligently solders wires to metal. Pausing in the doorway, you wait for him to acknowledge your presence, giving yourself some more time to think, but when several minutes pass and he doesn’t even look up you clear your throat, receiving a quick ‘Morning.’ in return and nothing else. No point beating around the bush, is there?

“When do you think I’ll be able to leave?”

Too busy fiddling with a loose thread at the hem of your shirt to distract yourself, you don’t notice the way he almost flinches, everything he’s doing coming to a halt. It’s quiet for only a moment before he says, “You are not a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you wish to.”

Not the answer you want, not the answer you long for, but an answer nonetheless

“I… now would be good for me, I think.”

“Very well.”

And that’s the end of it. The room is blanketed in silence once again, except for the scrapes and shuffles of his tools as he goes back to work. No grand, emotional request for you stay and why would he? You’re a stranger, an experiment and there’ll be others like you; others to further his research and learn from. He doesn’t need you anymore. He hasn’t for a very long time, you realize. Oh how you wish you could feel the same. You go to grab your bag from the hallway in apathetic, almost mechanical movements, nothing but muscle memory driving you at this point and you expect to walk out the front door without another word exchanged between the two of you, but surprisingly enough, he calls out to you again.

“Where will you go?”

Stopping in your tracks, you come to lean against the door frame, gaze falling anywhere but him. You’re not sure what he’s even asking for, it won’t have any impact on his life after all, but you answer honestly anyways. “As far away from this city as I can get, probably. There’s no one— there’s… nothing left for me here anymore.” A pause as the faces of your tormentors flash before your inner eye. “Not before making the bastards who used me pay for it, though.” He unscrews a panel at the base of the Hexclaw while posing another question. “And if that costs you your life?” You shrug even though he can’t see. “Just as well. I’m not sure I’ve got the will to build something new for myself anyways…”

Silence falls again and you interpret it as the natural end of the conversation and your cue to leave. Except there’s one last thing you need to get off your chest - quite literally, in fact. Slipping off the chain around your neck, ring still safely attached to it as always, you approach him and place it on the surface of his workbench. To your utter surprise, he actually interrupts his work and picks it up with careful fingers; his face might be hidden from you by his mask, but he radiates confusion so you explain before he has a chance to ask. “When I first came here, you told me I could pay you in scrap metal if it made me feel any better about encroaching on your space and time. You can melt this down, throw it out, I don’t care; I’ve carried it around with me long enough and it was always meant to be yours.” You truly don’t have the strength to wait for his reaction, or probable lack thereof; this means nothing to him now, you mean nothing, and that thought makes you hurry towards the exit, tears burning in your eyes.

Despite better judgment, you pause in the doorway, fingers tight around the strap of your bag and swallow around the growing lump in your throat. “Thank you…” It’s barely above a whisper and it’s not enough. You were the one who wanted a proper goodbye this time, weren’t you? So you turn to fully face him, met with the same blank, hollow eyed stare you’ve grown oh so used to and you smile, genuine and grief stricken. “Thank you for everything, Viktor.”

Part of you wonders when he last heard his own name. If he even still remembers it.

And then you’re gone, leaving him alone in his quiet lab, with only his research to keep him company, just as it should be.

The front door is as far your shaky legs get you, bag slipping from your shoulder as you slump against it, forehead pressed to the cool, worn wood as you press a hand against your mouth in a desperate attempt to to stifle the sobs. The man you’re leaving behind is the love of your life no matter what, you’ve known that for ages; there was a before him, but there was never supposed to be an after. And yet now you have to figure out exactly what that after is going to look like, because he’s gone and at the same time he’s still here and that, oh that aches something awful. It’s unfair and it’s cruel and it makes you want to claw your own chest open to strangle your heart with your bare hands just to make the pain stop. It makes you envy him for the first time, no heart left in his chest to ail him. And it makes you despise him, because how dare he leave you alone with the burden of this love you were supposed to share?

The heavy footfalls behind you should jumpstart you into action, make you wrench the door open and get out or at the very least compose yourself, but you can’t. You find that you simply don’t care anymore either. Let him see what he’s done to you, what he’s turned you into, even if he wouldn’t shed a single tear over it. A mechanical hand comes to rest next to your head, his presence right at your back, so close and so very much like the first night you came to this place and yet everything’s so incredibly different now.

“What? Did you forget some kind of last diagnostics test on the new hand or something?” The tears are obvious in your tone. “No. But you should know that the people you plan on taking revenge on are already dead. I made sure of it.” Breath catching in your throat, the memory of your first morning in this house comes back to you: the bruises, the blood on his armor, the way everything about him had screamed violence and death that day. “You… Why?” It makes no sense whatsoever and it’s making your head spin and he’s not answering, until, “That’s hardly a concern for you now. I simply thought it consequential for you to be made aware of the fact that if you wish to depart from this city you may do so. There is nothing—“ It’s the first time you’ve heard him falter and fumble in all your time here and when he speaks again there’s an edge to his voice that you can’t quite place, accompanied by the hand against the door clenching into a fist. “There is no one keeping you here anymore.”

The clock in the corner counts down the seconds, loud and echoing in comparison to the quiet that has befallen you both. A quiet you decide to break, tentative and scared.

“Isn’t there? My tormentors might be gone, but what of the man I love? Could he still find it in him to love me if I stayed?”

“I don’t believe that still matters, does it? You’ll leave either way.”

And something inside of you snaps.

You brace your forearms against the door and shove backwards, catching him so off guard he stumbles back a step or two, creating just enough distance for you to rear back your hand and punch him square in the jaw. His mask gets knocked clean off his face, loudly clattering to the floor; your freshly operated hand sparks and creaks ominously, fingers now bent at odd angles while searing pain shoots up your entire arm, but you don’t care. It’s nothing compared to the white, hot fury that’s boiling you alive from the inside out.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you?!”

He doesn’t even deem it necessary to look at you; completely frozen to the spot, head turned away from you and hair covering his eyes from your view. He will have to listen to you either way, wether he wants to or not. Wether he still cares or not.

“You’re the one who decided he’d rather forget every moment, every laugh, every touch we shared like they all meant nothing! You’re the one who tore out his heart without a second thought and threw it away even though it was mine! And all the while you’re leaving me with the burden of it all! I’m the only person alive who still holds our time together dear to their heart now! Do you have any idea how heavy memories can be? How maddening?! And these—“ you bring your hands up between the two of you, all sleek, perfect metal, the spitting image of him. “You gave me these for all the world to see and left me with yet another reminder of you! Like I needed more of those to know that I am still and always will be irrevocably yours! And now you tell me that it wouldn’t matter if there’s any part of you, however small, that still thinks of yourself as mine?! Fuck you, Viktor!”

You slump back against the door for support, chest heaving and unharmed hand coming up to cover your face; a desperate and all but pointless attempt to hide the tears and stifle the sobs.

He’s a scientist, an engineer. Solving problems, fixing things, improving lives; it’s what he does. What he thrives in. Yet he doesn’t know how to fix this. So he zeroes in on the one thing he can fix.

“Let me see your hand.”

But you don’t let him. Curl in on yourself and angle your body and injured hand away from him; it makes you seem so much smaller. So vulnerable. So defeated. Good. Maybe if he can drive you away even further then…

“You are… a distraction. A hindrance to my work that I can not tolerate. You do not belong here and it would be better for the both of us if you left and never returned.”

With the mask gone, the mechanical edge to his voice is missing as well, but every word still stings like the cut of a blade.

“So turn around and let me go. You’ll never have to see me again, I promise.”

He knows all too well how seriously you take that; every promise, no matter how small or menial, a solemn oath, never to be broken. He can not let you make this one; every part of himself rebels against the very thought of letting you walk out that damn door, even if it would be the logical thing to do. Drive you further away, he’s not capable of that any longer, who is he trying to fool? Himself, most likely.

Stepping closer he gauges your reaction and when you don’t recoil from him any further, he rests his hands on either side of you and drops his forehead against the old, worn wood above your shoulder.

“I can’t.”

It’s spat through grit teeth, like it physically pains him to admit it. But it’s the most emotion you’ve heard in his voice during all the time you’ve been here.

“I removed every function that wasn’t vital; every memory that was redundant to my work. Affection, jealousy, admiration, anger, joy, sorrow; any emotion that would’ve proven an aberration sooner rather than later. I clawed and prodded and scraped at my own insides until nothing remained and yet you refused to let go.”

Your sobs have reduced to sniffles, your body still beneath him; except for the hand you’ve dropped from your face that he now feels running up his back, titanium fingers gliding over the metal ridges that make up his spine until they settle at the nape of his neck.

“Your face, your laugh, your favorite color, the way you’d look cooking breakfast in the mornings, the way your body would feel against mine; every detail, no matter how minute stayed. Etched into the fissures of my brain, burned into the steel I used to rebuild myself, regardless of how many times I replaced it. Carved into my being, my very soul; I could not remove you any more than I could remove the engine beating as my heart. And I can not go back to how things were before you came here. Before you found me again.”

“Why not? You seemed perfectly happy in your solitude with your work.” Your voice is small, but genuine. And you almost squeak in shock, wind knocked out of you, when his arms come around your middle to hold you tight, almost too tight, flush against him as he buries his face into crook of your neck.

“Because you are in every fraction of skin, in every blood vein that still remains within me. In every bolt, every wire, every piece of metal I welded to myself. I do not… function properly unless I know of your whereabouts. Unless I know you’re safe and cared for. And it was maddening, to surpress it, to ignore it all these years; a clear error constantly rearing its’ ugly head, telling me that I will never get any further in my research, my work, my vision, unless it’s resolved. Constantly running on loop in the back of my head, reminding me that I am incomplete. I need you, you are an essential part of me, right down to my very atoms and it makes me, all of me, no matter what else I might become, yours.”

There’s fresh tears streaming down your face, because he sounds so tired. So desperate. So upset. So painfully human. You find yourself doing the same thing you’ve always done when you’ve had him in your arms, worried and anxious about something; gently thread your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and lean your head against his carefully. “Viktor, if you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask. You know that; if you want something all you ever had to do was ask it of me. But I need you to ask me, all right? I need to hear you say it.” He doesn’t answer right away, only draws patterns into the small of your back in thought; a habit of his you remember all too well. This close, you can feel the heat coming off him, generated from the several engines powering him and a barely there hum and whirr of machinery against your chest; a sound that comes in regular intervals, akin to a heartbeat. When he does speak, his voice is weary. Conflicted. Unsure. Scared.

“I am not the man you fell in love with, my heart. Not gentle, nor kind. There is no coming back from the lines I’ve crossed and I don’t— I can not love you the same way I used to. The way you’d deserve. And yet… I want to be selfish.” He pauses for a bitter, ridiculing bark of laughter and shifts in your hold and it’s only then that you realize the skin at the slope of your neck and your collarbone is wet. Shame threatens to choke you when it occurs to you that up until now you didn’t think he still could cry. “I shouldn’t want for anything. Machines do not want or desire or long for things. But… they need all their components to operate as they’re supposed to; to perform at their full potential.” He’s rationalizing it, you know and you’ll be fucking damned if you interrupt him. “And I need you to stay. Here, with me. Then maybe in time you’ll be able to love me as I am now.”

Your chuckle is weak; you’re exhausted physically and emotionally. “What a silly thing to say. That’s assuming I ever stopped loving you in the first place.” It should be impossible, for his embrace to become any tighter, but it does and it’s almost starting to hurt - good, because the pain makes it real.

It’s in the way he buries his face against you further, a noise oh so very similar to a sob escaping him, and how your gaze catches on his mask left discarded on the ground that it finally dawns on you: he’s hiding. From you or from himself, you’re not certain, but you’re not having it any longer. “My love, let me see you.” He doesn’t move; if anything he freezes up. “Please?” You try again and are met with the same result, except for, “You will not like what you find.” Irritation flares up in your chest, manifesting itself in a harsh tug on his hair and, “That’s for me to decide.” It takes him a few very long, agonizing seconds, but eventually, he sighs in defeat and pulls back enough for you to be able to get your first proper look at his face after all these years.

No wonder you managed to break your hand, his jaw and cheeks are all solid, dark, smooth metal, connecting to the column of his throat. Your fingers are moving before you can stop yourself, trailing along his cheek bones where hard steel meets soft, scarred flesh. Still as pale as always, almost deathly so, faint blue veins under his skin now in plain view and the contrast to the two moles you adore all the more prominent. The ever present dark circles under his eyes have evolved into lasting bruises. And oh his eyes. The same beautiful gold you remember, except now they’re rimmed with a thin ring of bright pink, courtesy of the Shimmer you’ve seen in his lab no doubt, bright against the deep, dark, purple-ish black that now makes up his sclera. But dissimilar from your memory as they may be, the look in them is one you recognize: careful, poised for rejection, but the remaining tears betray him. It’s strange, how he can look so utterly different yet so hauntingly the same.

He had imagined this moment plenty of times, but never in his wildest dreams could he have come up with this. Yes, there’s several emotions at once crossing your face when you finally see him, yet none of them negative. It’s genuine, innocent curiosity at first, reflected in the careful fingers that reach out to touch him. And before he has time to fully register your touch against his skin, your expression shifts and it’s nothing but pure, unadulterated admiration and affection. “Still so beautiful. Still all mine.”

Just like that, all the tumult and chaos and noise in the back of his head that hadn’t once stopped in the last few years finally seems to silence and he can actually fucking think in peace again for the first time - and the first thing he thinks to do, the most logical thing to do, really, is to curse under his breath before crashing his lips to yours. It’s needy and filthy and all tongues and teeth, your back making abrupt contact with the door again as he shoves you against it, hands coming up from your waist to cup your face. The gesture is tender and sweet and entirely contrasting to the way he’s kissing you; to what he claims to have become. It’s more than welcome nonetheless, giving you a sense of security you didn’t realize you needed as your intact hand moves away from his hair to cover his. It just so happens to be the one that’s still mostly flesh and blood, warm against your skin, except for a thin, cold sliver of metal you feel that you can’t place at first. You don’t remember seeing any augmentations that would feel like this on his hand before. Curious despite the adoring, addictive haze that’s starting to cloud your mind, fingertips try to make out more detail and you find it in tiny little ridges in the metal sitting specifically on his ringfinger that feel suspiciously like letters. Letters that spell out one word: Unconditional.

Your ring. He’s wearing your ring.

It makes you kiss him harder, wanting him so much closer even though it’s hardly possible. You could stay like this for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t ever need for anything else. How unfortunate it is then that one of you both still needs air to fill their lungs to live. How unfortunate that that someone is you; personally you gladly would’ve suffocated against his lips, but he seems to have other plans as he pulls back to let you take some much needed deep breaths, chest heaving while he settles for leaving chaste pecks against the skin of your face.

“Still all yours,” he confirms and you mirror the smile you can hear in his voice. “Now and always.”

[midnight-mourning]

Stave off the Cold

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 24❄️❄️

guhhh i went a LIL angsty for part of this, but you'll like it dw, it'll be worth it in the end ;) hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Perhaps post ruin, since its snowing so hard the power goes out. Yn and ruin snuggling to stave off the cold and are sappy together or something along those lines. ^-^

Word Count: 1313

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You're in the middle of the most delicate of work when it happens. The lights cut, and you curse, almost dropping the new CPU chip in the dark. Carefully, with another slew of curse—that probably wouldn't have been approved if they'd hear—you step back and search for your workbench, setting down the chip and pulling out your phone. 

Flashing it to the window, you can see the snowstorm blowing outside. That must've done it. Great. Just great. 

You glance over to the bot lying motionless on the table, heart twisting at the sight. You've been working for months to fix them, you knew there had to be way, knew that somewhere they still had to be in there. The fact that you'd been able to charge their body and get their limbs to move independently proved that. 

You rub your face and check the time, you could still work in this, as long as there was still some heat in here. The power had to come back on eventually, right?

You search for your lantern, finding it and lighting, hanging it from the ceiling above. Once everything's settled, towels stuff under the old door to help keep heat from leaking out, you get back to work. 

When you'd found them, having decided to take a look through the long abandoned Plex, you'd been horrified at their condition. Tattered clothes and broken parts, that's what remained of your beloved attendant. You remember cradle their cracked faceplate in your hand, tears welling up at the thought that'd they shut down alone, afraid, not knowing where they'd wake up again. 

That had been back in the fall, it was the dead of winter now and progress had been progressing best you could. You weren't well versed in this type of thing, you were relying on videos and online forums to guide your progress. And you were just hoping and praying you were doing all this correctly. 

You'd started with the surface level damaged and worked your way in, scrounging the Plex for spare parts and replacements. Anything you couldn't find you'd snatch up in eBay auctions or the likes. 

With tender love and care, you rebuilt your attendant back into the bot you loved. You just finished repairing Sun's rays the other day, but you kept Moon's hat on him, something about the look going along with their mismatched pants. 

Now all that was left was the hard stuff, the internal components. 

So much of their inner workings had been fried, smashed, or damaged in some other capacity. You'd feared for the worst, truthfully. Having to accept that they may actually be gone for good. It was something that haunted you for weeks before you finally bit the bullet and opened up their head. 

You had teared up a bit when you found their hard drive was in perfect condition, letting out a cheer loud enough to probably disturb your neighbors. 

Your hands are shaking now, you realize. Shivering, your shivering. You check the time again, it's already been two hours. But, you argue, it's not that cold yet. You can keep going, keeping working, keep fixing. Keep saving. 

You have to. You have to do it for them. 

You take short breaks every now and then, warming your hands on their casing. They may not be awake, but at least they're alive. 

Your breath is showing up in front of you now, your fingers feel stiff, but still, you keep going. You just have one final thing to do, give them a reset. 

Your legs hurt as you stand, walking up to where their head rests. You pull out the Faz wrench you'd found on your last trip to the Plex. A find that had you dancing around the abandoned building like an idiot. 

With a shaky grip, you insert it and turn, waiting with bated breath. 

Nothing happens. 

You step back, waiting a solid two minutes for the attendant to sit up, either AI greeting you like how you've been waiting six months for them to do. 

But they don't. 

You feel too tired and too cold to cry. Just a feeling of utter defeat overtaking you. Your head feels heavy, so do your eyelids. Maybe you just need to take a nap, and you can figure this out afterwards. 

You climb back up onto the table, laying down on the warm but empty shell of your attendant. Curling up, you pull your coat tighter around yourself and close your eyes. 

As you start to drift off, you swear you feel a shift underneath you, something laying on top of your body. 

You have a strange dream. 

In it, you're being carried through the snow by something. It has two bright eyes, one red, one white, with spikes coming off its head, and a blue hat. It speaks to you, murmuring sweet nothings that you can't recall. 

When you wake up on your couch, you realize it wasn't a dream. You go to get up, but a firm grip around your waist prevents you from doing so. Looking down, you realize your laying on top of Sun, or, Moon? You don't know, you don't care, because it clicks to you that his eyes are open and he's looking at you and he's awake—

"Hello, Starlight. We missed you."

Your voice is just a whisper. "You're awake... You're okay."

Before he can say anything, you wrap your arms around him, kissing his faceplate over and over. 

"I, I thought you guys were gone. That, that it wouldn't work, that I had to live without you." You're crying now. "I, I can't believe you're actually here."

"Silly Star. We never left." A shift in tone. "We were right there with you, Sunbeam!"

You realize what they mean. "Oh god. That means you heard all of that."

"You mean all your lovely conversations with us? Your laughter, your beautiful singing?" They take your hand, pressing it to their faceplate. "Because if so, the answer is yes."

You feel your face heat up and not knowing what else to do bury it against their neck as they laugh. 

"How awful." You mumble. 

They pet your hair for a few moments, fingers staying laced in it as you sit back up to look at them. 

You trace your hand down the side of their face, taking it all in. "I can't believe it, after all this time. Picked a terrible time to wake up. Can't even give you a proper tour of the place with the power out."

You start to get up, wanting to go grab a lamp, but they immediately pull you back down, arms firmly around you. 

"No leaving. Too cold. Stay here, we'll keep you warm."

You give in rather easily, especially when their hands start to explore just under your shirt, snickering at how you tense up. 

You scowl at them, taking their faceplate in both hands and leaning down so your foreheads are touching. "How did you two manage to get worse?"

Just another chuckle in response, their eyes nothing but thin, devious crescents. 

You kiss them then, soft, sweet. And then you do it again, and again. 

As you kiss, you feel the blanket you'd shoved off in your excitement be placed back over you both, adding to the warmth and coziness between you. 

You have to break away for a moment, panting ever so slightly. 

They tilt their head, watching you keenly. A thumb comes up to swipe against your lip. 

You smirk. "Thanks."

They nod. 

"I really missed you, you know?" You lay your head against their chest, listening to how with every tick and click and whirl, it's a sign that they're really there with you. They're actually home. 

Their hand comes up to stroke your hair, other arm snug against your hip. 

"We missed you too."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you @rosescarletful for the request! I had a bit of fun with it as you can see, very much enjoyed the concept your prompt allowed me to think up :)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a

[steddieas-shegoes]

uh. what?

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is healing wounds'

rated m | 1,782 words | cw: injury recovery, mild blood, recreational drug use | tags: post s4, hurt/comfort, getting together, fade to black

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The stitches pulled and he couldn't get comfortable. He almost wished Robin hadn't made him get checked over, but anything that required this many stitches probably would've killed him if he hadn't. At least that's what Nancy said when he complained to her about it.

But now, Steve couldn't sleep, and sleep was apparently very important for healing.

The alarm clock next to his bed said 2:07 am, so calling someone was out. Going somewhere was also out, unless he wanted to go to the 24 hour diner alone.

Fresh air sounded good until he realized he'd have to either go for a walk in the middle of the night alone or sit by the pool alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

His phone started to ring just when he was considering taking a shower out of boredom.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve."

"So formal for two in the morning, Stevie," Eddie's laugh rang through the line and Steve couldn't help smiling. Something about Eddie's energy was contagious, a beacon of light when all he had was the darkness of his room.

"Didn't know if it was an international business partner for my parents. Happens sometimes when they forget time zones." Steve moved to the edge of his bed so the cord didn't have to stretch as far. "What are you doing up?"

"Had a dream about being eaten alive again. This time they managed to eat both of my nipples." Eddie scoffed. "Isn't one enough?"

Steve chuckled. "And you can't go back to sleep because you're scared they'll come take your other nipple?"

"It's a genuine concern, Steve! I have big dreams of piercing this thing and if they take it from me, what do I have left?"

"I think you'd probably just find something else to pierce," Steve shook thoughts of what that might be out of his head before they could take over. "So you can't sleep. You thought you'd call and wake me up to suffer with you?"

Eddie was silent for a moment before responding. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Steve said quickly, not wanting Eddie to feel bad. "I was awake."

"Nightmare?"

"No, stitches are bothering me."

"You wanna come over? I found my hidden stash. Might help with the stitches," Eddie offered.

Steve probably shouldn't. He was on some pain meds already and if he got too fucked up, he'd probably cry. That's what happened last time he had some of whatever Eddie was selling.

"I'll come over, but probably shouldn't have anything. Robin would kill me if I end up in the hospital," Steve gave a half-truth.

"Yeah, she's terrifying. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Before Steve could tell him that was a bad idea, he hung up.

********

When Steve got to Eddie's, he let out the breath he'd been holding the entire drive. Eddie was sitting on the porch, alone, his guitar by his side.

Maybe he'd been playing already, or maybe he planned to play to help distract Steve from the way his skin felt like it was too much.

He got out of the car and waved when Eddie looked over at him with a smile.

"Didn't think you'd get here so quick," Eddie didn't bother standing up, Steve just knew to go sit by him.

But the steps on the Munson's porch were rickety at best, "temporary" according to the government officials who had stuck them here because they didn't think it was worth putting them in a home across town, and Steve's eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dull glow of the light by the front door. He missed the top step and immediately fell, barely catching himself on the wood of the porch.

Eddie was helping him up immediately, doing his best not to make his own injuries worse.

"Shit, you okay? Wayne tried fixing it, but it just keeps getting loose."

Steve felt a stinging pain on his side, and when his hand grazed over the worst of his bites, he felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

"Shit," without looking, he knew he'd torn his stitches. "Eddie, I need a towel or something."

"Shit, that's a lot of blood. That's a lot of blood. It shouldn't be that much, right? Like even tearing your stitches, it shouldn't be-"

"Eddie." Steve poked his arm, stayed as calm as he could. He bled easy, so sometimes even small things looked worse than they were. "Towel."

"Right, yeah. Should you come with me?" Eddie shook his head. "I mean can you move? Should you stay here?"

"I'll sit here until I have a towel. Don't wanna get blood on the carpet."

"Got it."

Eddie still seemed unsure about leaving him, but must have noticed how much blood was soaking through Steve's shirt and rushed inside. He was back in less than a minute, a black towel in his hand.

"It's clean. It's the one I usually use for my hair, but I didn't get to fold it from the dryer yet. Um, just put pressure on it."

Steve knew what to do, was used to putting pressure on wounds, but appreciated Eddie trying to triage it anyway.

"You got a needle and thread, right?" Steve asked once he took his shirt off and put pressure on the bite. It was already bleeding much less, a positive sign that maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"I mean, I do. I don't have medical tools that have been sanitized properly."

"You have water to boil and vodka?"

"Steve. I'm not fucking performing a medical procedure on your stomach," Eddie shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I trust you."

The words hung heavy between them, despite the fact it wasn't exactly news to either of them. They'd been through it all together, why wouldn't he trust him?

"Okay, let's get inside and I'll get everything ready."

Getting inside was easier said than done. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the pain had really started to set in and every breath felt like knives stabbing into him.

"Deep breath, Stevie," Eddie said as he sat him down on the couch and helped him lay back. "I'll get you something for the pain."

"Something" was an edible, and Eddie seemed hesitant to give it to him, but all reservations Steve previously had went out the window as he felt his hands shaking from the pain.

Eddie prepared everything while the edible kicked in, checking in with Steve every few minutes to make sure he hadn't passed out or started bleeding again.

When the room started to feel blurry and his head felt light, Steve smiled over at Eddie, who looked nervous.

"Ready for your magic hands," Steve wiggled his brows.

Eddie made a strangled sound before leaning over the wound and wiping some of the blood away gently so he could see where to stitch him back up.

He worked as quickly as possible, humming softly to distract himself and Steve from what was happening.

Steve was high.

He was high and he was feeling good despite the needle in his skin.

He drifted for a bit, couldn't be sure how long, but eventually, Eddie was touching his cheek and making him open his eyes.

"Think you should stand up so I can wrap a bandage on it. Then you can try to shower off some of the blood if you want. Wayne got one of those removable showerheads. Feels fancy," Eddie said as he moved the hair off of Steve's face.

"Help?" Steve managed to ask.

"Yeah, I can help you with the wrap and start the shower for you," Eddie nodded.

"In the shower?" Steve asked.

Eddie paused. "I can keep us dressed?"

"But." Steve huffed. "Blood."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at his confusion, Steve's lips pouting out and his eyes squinting. "Okay, okay. If you're okay with it, I'm okay with it. You're high as shit, man."

"I'm standing right on the ground," Steve waved his arms around him. "Or is the ground standing on me but the other way?"

"God, this is the best. Okay, let's go."

"Wait!" Steve grabbed Eddie's arms. "You should know something."

Eddie raised his brows in question. "Go on."

"I'm very in love with you. And also kinda hard."

Eddie blinked, not processing. Now he felt high.

"Uh. What?"

"I have an erection." Steve made a disgusted face. "Hate that word. Sounds so middle school sex ed."

"It is." Eddie shook his head. "I guess I meant more like, how and why and what the hell do you mean by it."

Steve giggled. "I said you had magic hands and I was right."

"Dude, I was literally giving you stitches. I am failing to see why that would make you hard."

"It's cuz you're so gentle and your tongue sticks out when you're trying to focus. And also I started thinking about what you'd do if I couldn't move," Steve sighed dreamily. "You have handcuffs."

"Okay. Let's pause." Eddie let out a small hysterical laugh. "You want me to help you in the shower because you love me? Do you even need help?"

"Probably. But I also want help. And also you're a helper for me."

"What does that even mean? Where's Robin when you need her to decode what the hell you're talking about?"

"You're a helper for me! Because you help me be better about asking for help! And then you help!"

"Okay, that's. Good. I'm still not sure what's happening."

"You're gonna help me shower. I'm gonna try very hard not to come. We sleep?" Steve looked around Eddie out the window, like he was checking if it was still night time. "And then in the morning I wake up and get yelled at by Robin."

"Why would she-"

"The stitches. And the telling you I love you thing. She's gonna be real mad about that."

"Why?" Eddie felt like he was losing it. What was even happening anymore? How had he completely lost control of the night?

"She wanted to help me do a speech thing."

This was just getting more wild.

Steve needed a shower, and he needed sleep. Eddie needed a minute to gather his own thoughts.

"Shower. Sleep. Talk in the morning." Eddie raised his hand to cup Steve's neck. "Robin murders you after we talk."

"Deal." Steve's face sank, but he quickly perked back up. "But shower?"

"Yes, shower. Go, horndog."

Steve laughed as he half-limped to the bathroom, clearly feeling some pain even with the drugs in his system. Eddie followed and resisted touching Steve as much as possible.

Which ended up being about two minutes.

[joaniscruzing]

stars between us - ch.3 - h.c

Here's chapter 3! I'm looking to do a one-shot or two before continuing this further. I'm always taking requests for anyone in my Masterlist. Comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic!

Summary: The first day of the two-day camping trip with Hazel. I'd recommend the song "how soon is now?" by the Smiths, for at least the beginning of this chapter.

Contains: overwhelming amount of fluff, sad hazel, mean!pj, slight angst, a wee bit of flirting, mention of weed/drugs

To say that you were scared awake is an understatement. PJ quite literally BLASTED a horn into you and Hazel’s ear the next morning. You jolt awake, not realizing you were still holding Hazel’s hand. However, in your jolt, you squeeze it. You then realize that Hazel got very close to you in her sleep last night. You let go of her hand under the covers and rub your eyes.

“Morning Haze.” you said sleepily.

“Morning,” she replied in a raspy voice.

“Gee, aren’t you guys tired! What, were you guys finger-fucking each other all night?” PJ interrupts. All you and Hazel do is give her an annoyed look, as you had barely woken up and were already done with her shit.

“PJ, just because two people slept in the same bed and are tired waking up, does not mean they fucked each other,” Brittany points out.

“Okay, okay. Jesus.”

You and Hazel begrudgingly get out of bed, knowing that staff would be knocking at the cabin’s door to wake everyone up soon. You both got changed into comfortable outfits for the day. Today on the trip, everyone would be picking up trash, planting flowers, and hiking.

“Your shirt is very pretty,” Hazel says as you’re fixing your hair.

“Oh, thanks!” you smile at the unexpected compliment.

“What flowers are those?” Hazel motions to the flowers on your shirt.

“Oh these? They’re irises.”

“Are those your favorite flowers?”

“No, they’re tulips. Do you have a favorite flower?”

“Actually, yeah. They’re daisies.” Hazel smiles, looking at you with her gorgeous blue eyes. You nod, internally reminding yourself to keep that in mind.

“Alright, are you ready to go to breakfast?” you ask Hazel. She nods, and stands up. She looks at you for a second, contemplating something. She shakes out of it though.

“Yeah! Let’s go!”

“Wait, Hazel, I need to talk to you.” you hear from PJ from the corner of the room.

“You can go without me. I’ll meet you there.”

“Are you sure? I can wait, I don’t mind.”

“No, no. Just save a plate of breakfast for me, okay?” You give her a thumbs up and leave the cabin, closing the door behind you. Mid-walk to the tables, you remember that you forgot your book. You make your way back, but hear your name being said in the voices you hear when you’re at the door.

“She probably doesn’t like you Hazel. Look at her, she’s friends with the cheerleaders.” you hear from PJ.

“How is that different from Josie and Isabel?” you hear from Hazel.

“Well Isabel was gay. Your new little friend is not.”

“Well we don’t exactly know that yet. Plus, I want to get to know her. Not stick my tongue down her throat.”

“I’m just saying, don’t get disappointed if she doesn’t hang out with you after this weekend.” after that you hear silence. You hear footsteps, which cause you to scramble away from the door. However, you still need your book. You approach the door again, opening it, and seeing Hazel waiting there, her eyes swimming with tears.

“Hey.” she says quietly, a small break in her voice.

“Hazel. Are you okay?” you put your hand on her shoulder. She nods her head, although you know damn well that that’s a lie.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” You lead Hazel outside, and go about fifteen feet away from the cabin, near some trees.

“Can you explain to me what’s wrong?” Hazel tries to calm down, but keeps on crying. You put your arm around her shoulder and rub her arm soothingly. “Talk to me. Let me know what’s going on.”

Hazel’s breathing becomes less erratic and she’s able to catch a breath. She leans her back against the tree.

“I guess, uh, PJ doesn’t really think that you and I are really friends. She told me that you’re just being nice to me because I’m really clingy, and that like I haven’t stopped being around you since the bus ride.”

“Well, you’ve told me once, and I’m seeing once again, PJ is an asshole. Why are you even listening to her in the first place?”

“I, um, don’t know. She’s known me for a really long time, and I feel like I have to trust her.”

“You can know someone for all your life and not trust them. Haze, I can tell you right now that that’s not true. I’m really excited to spend the day with you today. I mean it. I could’ve just tagged along with Brittany and Isabel today, but I chose to hang out with you. Because you’re cool. And I like you.” Hazel immediately hugs you after you say that. You hug her back. When you two pull away, you teach her a trick to make her eyes less red after crying. The two of you go to the breakfast table and grab two bagels. You sit at a table and make plans for the day.

“What do you want to do today, Hazel?”

“I definitely want to go hiking. Some people were saying there was a waterfall somewhere.”

“I bet we could go while picking up trash.”

“We also need to find a time to look at the stars. I’m not letting myself forget today.”

“I’m hoping the skies are clear tonight.” 

The two of you finish up your breakfast and grab gloves and bags to pick up trash. The morning is quite tiring, but you and Hazel’s chatter and jokes help brighten it. Hazel ends up being very funny, leaving you laughing hysterically. For lunch, you eat with everyone in the cabin.

“I’m glad to see that you and Hazel have become friends,” Isabel admitted.

“Me too. I’m really glad you told me a bit about her. I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to talk to her. But I’m glad I did.” Just then, PJ bounds up to the table, her hands pounding on it, causing the five of you sitting to go quiet.

“I have weed for tonight.”

“PJ, none of us like smoking.” Josie points out.

“THAT is why I thought ahead. I got us edibles.”

“And how did you get them?” Brittany asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I gave some old man I came across while planting some flowers like ten dollars.” All of you, being young, dumb teenagers, shrugged it off. The rest of the day was declared free time by the staff, as you all had fulfilled your requirements for the trip.

“Do you want to go on that hike?” you asked Hazel. She nodded, and the two of you left the table to begin your hike. You somehow both still had things to talk about while trying to find the waterfall Hazel had been talking about earlier.

“Oh my god, Hazel! There’s daisies!” you grab her hand to pull her over to the field of daisies nearby. She happily runs with you, picking a few. You do as well, and the two of you stick a few handfuls into your backpack. Eventually, the two of you to get to the waterfall. You both sit down.

“Can I see the daisies we picked?” Hazel asks. You nod, and watch her begin to make a daisy crown with them. She puts one on your head, before you ask her to teach you how to make one. She teaches you, and you put one on her head as well.

“We look absolutely stunning in these.” you say dramatically, putting your wrist up to your forehead.

“You definitely do. You look like the fairy flower princess.” Hazel says, without contemplation.

“And who said there couldn’t be two fairy flower princesses?” you smile and look at Hazel, who looks at you too. Your eye contact with her stays for a few (very long) seconds before the two of you resume talking.

“Are you going to do the edibles PJ brought later?” Hazel asks.

“Maybe. I don’t really know if I’m being honest. I don’t exactly trust PJ’s source.”

“I’ll do them if you do them.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll let you know if I plan on doing any.” The two of you decide to head back, as you were both quite tired from the day, and really just wanted to take it easy for the rest of it. You were looking forward to reading your astronomy book for a bit before stargazing with Hazel, but you were greeted by all the girls in the cabin in a circle, and PJ waving at the two of you.

“Who’s ready for some truth or dare? Huh?”

taglist: @at1nyzen @slaughtercarrie @sophia2414

[tryan-a-bex]

Writing patterns meme

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

From this post by @dancinbutterfly https://www.tumblr.com/dancinbutterfly/735744268412534784?source=share

I'll mull about patterns here because I put the last two after the cut due to warnings. So, about half of them start with dialogue, which is how I started writing--a lot of dialogue, minimal else things. The other half start by getting inside someone's head--internal dialogue, basically, so not that different I guess. Also I try to start with something funny or at least interesting, to hook the reader? I don't know if it works.

Endless Family Trick or Treating

“It’s not a sphere!” argued Dream, swinging his jack-o’-lantern trick-or-treat bucket against the leg of his vampire costume. “It is a sphere!” insisted Desire, twirling the tail of their demon costume in their hand again. “I learned it in school and it’s round like a ball so it’s a sphere.”

2. Velma Meets the Family

Velma stared at the gently lapping water of the river, leaning her elbows on the railing. The rest of the gang was fast asleep in their motel, but she hadn’t been able to sleep so she’d come outside to think. The water sounds were restful, but her mind refused to stop whirling. 

3. Freddy the Robot Vacuum

It was amazing what a person could get used to. Hob had enjoyed his first robot vacuum. It was nice, and not a very difficult adjustment, to get used to the vacuuming being done automatically for him while he was out. The little phone app notifications were cute, and he was only human so he anthropomorphized his vacuum, naming it Freddy. Getting used to the anthropomorphic personification of dreams hanging around in his flat… took a bit more time.

4. Life is but a Dream

Rose put her head down on the desk. Why? Why would the words come in the middle of the night, and never when she had her laptop out and on? She’d even tried writing her thoughts down, but found that she actually couldn’t make out her sleepy handwriting in the morning. She looked at the tumblr icon on her desktop, sighed, and got up to get a cup of tea instead. That would be a shorter distraction. Probably.

5. Death is not easy to cheat

Unity poured tea in both cups and sat down across from Rose, pushing the plate of cookies toward her. “How are you doing, dear? You look tired.” “Oh, Unity! It’s been so stressful lately! I can’t seem to think of the right words when I sit down to work on my novel, but then they keep me awake in the middle of the night, you know? And during the day Lyta is either freaking out about Daniel being with Uncle Morpheus and Hob, or freaking out about him being so white and growing up so fast.

6. Trials of a Shapeshifter in Love

“Lucienne has been working so hard lately,” Gault explained to the Dream King’s head cook. “I’d like to do something nice for her. I was thinking a surprise romantic dinner over candlelight in the library.” “Ah, yes, I think she would appreciate that very much.” They put their heads together to plan the meal when suddenly Gault heard a familiar voice from the hallway.  “So, what have you already tried?” Lucienne asked. “Hell, all the normal plunging and clawing didn’t fucking fix the goddamned blockage, and it’s a fucking hassle taking the whole damned drain apart all the way back into the fucking wall.” 

7. Naga No-Go

“Lucienne.” Lucienne’s head popped up from the book she was studying. Lord Morpheus’ summons sounded just a little bit more… strained than usual. She turned her head, using her raven senses to triangulate the direction of the summons. His chambers??? This… could not be good.

8. Which Witch (Okay I'm cheating here because this isn't published yet. but if you want more, let me know and I'll post it on ao3 or send you a link.)

“You can’t just come in here without a warrant.” The cantankerous old witch put her hands on her hips and stood squarely in the doorway. Eldie sighed and rubbed the shaved hair at the nape of her neck. “Please let me come in, ma’am. Your daughter hired me to clean and cook and help you out, and I can’t help if you don’t let me in.” “I don’t need help, you shameless hussy! Who does she think she is, that gossiping busy-body! I’m fine here by myself. You can go now!”

Okay, under the cut are mentions of spiders, and non-con body horror. (The fic is not bad, the backstory from canon is, and that's where I started.)

9. Arachnophilia (mentions of spiders)

Zelda stared down at the cafeteria mac and cheese on her plate. The only thing appetizing about the middle school cafeteria food was that her mother wasn’t glaring at her and criticizing how she did or didn’t eat it. Instead, everyone ignored her, tucked into a corner. She would feel hurt about being shunned if she had any desire at all to interact with the other children. She didn’t. She closed her eyes and shoved a forkful into her mouth, thinking about her science project to distract herself from the taste. Spider webs were actually incredibly strong for the size of the filament, and they came in such an extraordinary variety of shapes and sizes. She couldn’t wait to get back to the library for more research. She opened her eyes as she swallowed, scooping up more food and quickly scanning the room. 

10. The Order of the Knights of the Dreaming (the actual fic I wrote is pretty sweet without much actual violence, but Alice's backstory from InCryptids is intense, so skip this next paragraph if you don't like mentions of non-con and body horror)

Alice closed her eyes and felt her memories and skin being ripped from her once again. It hadn’t actually been like that. In real life, she hadn’t figured out her memories were being adjusted for years, and she’d undergone the flensing willingly. But once she learned that her mind had been altered without her knowledge and that removing her skin had not been necessary but was done for the profit of her “uncle,” well, the nightmares about being violated had been unceasing. 

If you made it this far, congratulations, consider yourself no-pressure tagged!

[mystique-6]

Kinktober Day 3: Exhibitionism

Summary: Ailis is having trouble sleeping. Astarion has an idea on how to fix that.

Hello! My hyperfixation on Astarion has got me in the writing mood so I will be participating in Kinktober using @flightlessangelwings Kinktober list. The pieces may be part of a bigger fic(s) that I'll be getting too when I have more time or they may be standalones. Either way, I hope you enjoy. I do plan on completing the 31 prompts though it will take me past October. The first fic I am listing below. I also have posted on AO3.

Warning: Anyone under 18 do not interact. Please pay attention to the tag warnings below.

Tag Warnings: Exhibitionism, Vaginal Fingering, Mildly Dubious Consent*, Under-negotiated Kink**, Shame/Humiliation Kink

*For context: For those on the fence for whether they want to continue I am including this tag only because Ailis never verbally agrees to the act. I assure you that she is okay with it.

**For context: They negotiate the kink after the act, but obviously that should have been discussed in advance.

Additional Note: This fic involves Spawn Astarion.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from BG3.

Ailis blinked awake and stared at the ceiling as she internally screamed in frustration.  This was the third time she’d woken up tonight.  She was exhausted, but sleep alluded her.  Now that her group was in Baldur’s Gate, they were so close to being freed of their tadpoles it was all she could think about.  How they were going to defeat the Absolute?  What would happen if they lost?  What would happen if they won?  What would she do with her life when this was all over?  All these thoughts consumed her mind and kept her awake.

She let out a quiet sign and rolled over onto her side so she faced the room.  It was more a suite than a room.  With the group being in enemy territory, they’d all agreed they felt safer staying together, rather than having separate rooms.  They’d lucked out on finding this inn.  This suite had enough beds for all of them.  No one had to share or trade for a bed every other night, though more often than not she shared her bed with Astarion.

As if her thoughts of him alerted him to her wakefulness, his arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and he pulled her back against his torse.  “Can’t sleep, darling?” he murmured in her ear.

“Too much on my mind,” she whispered, snuggling further into his embrace.

“Poor love,” Astarion replied and kissed her cheek.  “I think I know what will help you sleep.”

“Mmm?  And what’s…” she cut off with a gasp when Astarion’s hand dipped into her small clothes and traced along the seam of her.  “Are you crazy?!  We can’t…” She gasped again when he brushed over her clit.

“Feel good, love?” Astarion asked, rubbing tiny but persistent circles over her clit.

“Astarion,” she hissed, fighting back a moan.  “We are not alone.”

“Hmm, so you’ll have to be quiet,” Astarion hummed.  “You can be quiet for me, can’t you?  You’ll be a good girl?”  Ailis whimpered as he slipped two digits in her.  “You’ll have to be quieter than that, love.  You don’t want to wake our friends.”

“Astarion, we shouldn’t…we can’t…”  She let out a silent gasp as his fingers curled inside her cunt at the same time he applied more pressure to her clit.  “Oh gods!”  She gave up protesting and thrust her hips into his touch, fucking herself on his fingers.  He rubbed tighter circles over her, applying more pressure every time she thrust into his hand.  She turned her face into her pillow, trying to bury her gasps and moans she couldn’t help but let out.

“What a poor show of control,” Astarion chided.  “How do you think our friends will feel if they wake up to your noise?  What would they think if they found out how depraved the leader of our pack is?”  Ailis whimpered and her cheeks flushed at the thought of being caught.  She couldn’t stop herself from continuing to thrust her hips into his touch.  Her pace picked up as she began to flutter around the digits pumping inside her.

“What would they think if the discovered how filthy you are?”  Astarion murmured in her ear.  “Do you think they would still follow you, if they knew what a bad girl you are?”  His words and a final increase of pressure on her clit finally sent her over the edge.  She bit into the pillow to stop from screaming as her release came over her in waves of pleasure that sent her mind drifting.  As she slowly came back to herself, she felt Astarion pressing gentle kisses to her neck and shoulders.  She smiled contently for a moment, but tensed when she heard one of their companions shift restlessly in their bed and make a disgruntled noise.

“Don’t worry, love,” Astarion whispered.  “No one is awake.  I would have known if anyone had woken up for that display.”  She suddenly remembered his vampiric senses.  He would have known if one of their companions had awoken at any moment of their carnal display.  She also realized what he hadn’t said.  If someone had woken up to the sound of her arousal, he would have stopped.  He never would have put her on display.  She relaxed back against him.  He then turned her over so she faced him and then rolled them both so he was on his back and she laid across his chest.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face.  “Did I go too far, darling?” he asked.  “Was that too much?” 

She thought about it for a moment and shook her head.  “No,” she replied.  “I enjoyed it.  I think I would prefer if we discussed doing something like this beforehand though.  For next time.”

Astarion smiled.  “That’s easily arrangeable.”  He kissed her gently.  She interrupted the kiss with a yawn and he laughed.  “Get some sleep now, Ailis.”  She hummed in acknowledgement.  She slept soundly through the rest of the night.

[drac-onion]

Back at it again. A year since I posted Beneath Her Mask. Same thing as last time. Fun facts or just looking back at something I done did write once upon a time exactly a year ago.

This is going to be very "stream of consciousness" and probably hard to read, but here goes.

First off, wow that title sucks. I came up with it like right before posting and then rolled with it. Nowadays I would put off uploading something for MONTHS if I couldn't figure out an original and interesting title. Oops.

Anyway, this one is a lot better than the last one. Promise. The whole thing is a little bit iffy still, but I was very new. The formatting is the main issue I have with. The concept is...fine, although I think I could have gone a little bit further with and then lead into where this one starts. Ya know, inform the reader as to the situation that lead to Makoto's desire to keep everything to herself? But I kinda made it ambiguous on purpose. Good thing I didn't have to follow up on this a few months later... Oh wait. The stakes were just: awkward. No gay panic (like the tags say, oops), no internalized anything, no worries over team cohesion with members of the PTs dating, none of that. If I would ever go back and rewrite this (don't fucking tempt me) I would definitely expand on things a lot more. But hey, I probably shouldn't try and go back and fix all my old stuff. I'd never get anything done otherwise.

Oh yeah, Makoto's "113 decibel alarm clock" is a real thing. I actually have one. I sleep through every other alarm clock out there. The thing is so good, it will actually scare you awake. Pretty nice. (If probably a little too loud for apartment living in Japan where the walls are very thin.)

Oh yeah, and the tense a few times. Annoying.

I dunno why I made it three chapters. It's just over 3.5k words. That would have been fine to keep as a single chapter one-shot, but I think I just had a hard time with having scenes switch mid-chapter. Chapters are a good way to signal a scene switch, but nowadays I'll just use a line break and go with it. I've just improved as a writer, I think, and so now my old mistakes bug the shit out of me.

If I named all the issues I had, I'd be here all day. So, what did I get right with this? I think the concept is alright. The dialogue is good at points. The scene in Leblanc is pretty good. Good guy Sojiro being cool with lesbians (very cool of him). And the text convos at the end are also pretty okay. The "out of your league" comment still gets me for some reason. It's kinda funny.

Also I made a custom dialogue option for Akira, referencing the very first thing he says at the beginning of the story. I think it turned out okay. (I'd like to do more art/edits relevant to my writing. I've thought about making cover/chapter art for my current project. I guess we'll see how I'm feeling. A little wattpad-y of me, but it'd be interesting.)

I'm just now realizing that I should've made the "third option" a little cheeky. Maybe something like "Come here often?" or whatever. Ah well. Next time.

So, overall? It's an improvement. It's not perfect, but it was the second thing I'd ever written. (Once again, I don't count the RE one. I should probably anon it tbh.)

Anyway, that was something. The next "retrospective" (I guess that's what these are now) will be on Beneath Their Masks.

That one is a doozy, and I think I'm going to have a decent amount to say about it. It's also really long, so that's also a thing I'm gonna have to worry about. I'll probably do that on 10/1 because that's when I posted the first chapter. Maybe I'll have enough time to write up mini retrospectives for each chapter? And then post those throughout October? That could be interesting. And tiring. But still, interesting. I could pull the original upload dates since I made a tumblr in between ACIFT and BHM. Although those are going to be VERY spaced out, especially near the end. So much for doing a month's worth of prompts WITHIN the month. But I'll save all my whining for when those go up.

Also, shoutouts again to my beta at the time, @makomaki5. I hope you're doing well.

Anyway, I think that's about it. See ya.

[skhardwarevers2]

[put grief here please thanks] <- that is actually what I put in this draft so I knew what it was for omfg…

Intro as written in the original document:

It’ll never live up to ARTCON, sure–but one can try and try I will. 

If I ever figure out what this is about. It’s not a sequel to the incomprehensible slop that was ARTCON, I need a more coherent idea than that.

Okay, maybe it’s not a sequel to ARTCON but maybe heavily based on it and about N/A…thought stuff and what-not

The Unheard Point of View from Creature Feature: The Finale

[you know me, my writing is weird. If you’ve read and vaguely remember ARTCON it’s like that obviously.]

tags as written on my original post of this

[!!TW!!: BUGS, GORE, ORGANS, BODY HORROR, AND JUST REALLY CREEPY CRAWLY THINGS]

I remember(?) being awake for the first time. I couldn’t recall what had happened–I just knew that it hurt. It still did, does, and will(I would assume). It wasn’t the initial hit, the scissors were easy to handle. All they did was get caught in my chest for a while. What hurt more was them taking them out and leaving me there to bleed out. I tried to call out to him, but I didn’t. He’d know something was up, or maybe he didn’t care. I’m just a thorn in his side anyway, right? A painful reminder, a monstrous entity. I didn’t want to be but I was. It took everything in me not to retreat again, to that mental hell(literal hell). Agonizing pain and fear flooded my senses till I couldn’t figure out where I ended and the pool of blood that was staining the abyss began. It was dark, dark and cold. It felt too familiar. I was like a rat scratching at the walls, I didn’t know where I was–I just wanted out. I could hear my internal residents (bugs, wretched little things, just like me) complain about the poor condition. I couldn’t even do something as simple as provide shelter for these damned things, let alone my real job. Make my primary a better person and then die. A cold lonely terrible death. For a moment I swore I could hear something whisper in my ear–“we could fix that problem”. It was so enticing. To live. To be seen as something more than an animal’s corpse. Despite how my body began to rot in record time, chunks of my hair falling out and bits of my skin getting peeled away as I(?) writhed in pain. I wanted to speed up the process of dying but I didn’t want it to hurt. So I would tear and peel and scratch and pull myself apart and cry my terrible rotten tears as I could do nothing but hate myself. If I even count as a “my” or a “self”. I couldn’t even feel bad. Everything happening here was my own doing. Once again the voice came back into my head, this time I was certain it was real. “We can fix you,” they said. And I wanted it so desperately to be true. The abyss wrapped around me, like a cocoon. For a moment I was where I belonged. Safe. Warm. Protected. For a moment the pain stopped and I–for just this one moment–felt human. But no matter how well you treat an animal, one day you’re going to eat it. The abyss tore me open, completely gutting me. Showing me how disgustingly human I already was. Blood and guts spilled onto the floor. Nothing that surprising. I knew I had some sort of organs. It still hurt. It still was disgusting to look at. I couldn’t even scream. They had taken away my throat and my voice along with it. I wasn’t sure how I still managed to cry. And when I thought it was over, when I thought there was nothing else they could possibly tear out and mangle with their harsh hands and words(which had been muttering something about how wretched of a creature I was, something I had proved time and time again to be true)–they took my heart. Carefully ripping it from its spot in my chest, placing it in itself. It needed a new one, and promptly thanked me for my cooperation. In return they’d keep me here, in this state, my chest gaping open with veins and small organs that got stuck just sitting there like decorations. Inside of the abyss, who was now alive, thanks to me. At least I helped something. I was a part of something, some one. I understand the bugs

now. So reliant on something else for life that’s not as reliant on you. Because of a want to be part of something bigger. The Abyss, in some sort of attempt to keep me contained–reached into my brain to find the perfect place to put me. Slowly I was entrapped in those same bland walls that I hated. My mental hell turned literal hell. It’s what I deserved, likely. If I never showed up this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have pushed it trying to fix things beyond repair. If they were ever broken. Its hands (or at least two of them), stayed in my brain–needing that too to increase efficiency. For the first time in a while I didn't think. I just laid there on the cold, cold ground and wept for the sorry being that I’ve become (have always been). At some point there was no difference between the Abyss the Grief and me. Grief took over for both of us, as we tore apart the person who put me(us) in this situation. And after that we rested. Satisfied with having ripped them apart the same way they did me(us). At some point I stopped feeling any more of the pain from my primary. I didn’t think much of it, until I opened my eyes, like some terrible nightmare, to find myself right where I was before this happened. On the floor of the (dead) Abyss, bleeding out with a gaping hole in my chest. The bugs were back (empathetic this time). I always thought they never were there, but maybe the literal hell that formed before brought them back. They rejoined me, making my skin crawl in disgust for how inconsiderate we both were being, but at least I(?) wasn’t alone. I’d make it out of this place, even if it killed me. I tried to stand, but I could barely feel my legs. No matter. I’ll slowly inch my way closer and closer to my (former) primary day by day, week by week, month by month if I had to. Maybe then I’ll finally prove the point that I truly don’t want to die. Maybe then I’ll feel human. Maybe then I’ll truly be a reminder to him, not just a pest. Maybe.

[ameliapodcast]

Cocoa Spy Recommendations

Here we go again! Intern shares their unfiltered, duck-petting opinion because even if you want them to, they really can not stay quiet for the life of them. For the full rec, click the read more, as this is a long post. Note: Those are Intern's recommendations, if I mess up, it's me doing that. Please let me know! Last time, we had The Night Post, before that Forgive Me! and patient33, if you haven't seen the posts, find them linked.

Today! Academicasaurus. This is a very short review as the story should not be spoilered in any way, and because Intern had one hell of a week and will today only share their comfort podcast in case anyone else needs the comfort too.

The faculty behind the academic journal Academicasaurus really just want to get the next issue out. If only they'd stop getting bizarre submissions shoved under their doors... and who exactly is recording all this, anyway?

Website, Podbean, you can find them on Spotify too, but only from the second season onwards :)

Give it a listen if…

Again, you like Mystery, if you like(d) Harry Potter, if you remember University fondly as the horror it was or is, if you want to see your teachers as human beings for once, if you just really need a comfort podcast on a sunny Saturday when your whole body hurts.

A note

Almost finished! The last season is running and we’re in the thick of it now! Updates come every second Monday! The podcast is recorded through the POV of phone lines, mainly, which is interesting.

Why you’d like it as a listener of Amelia?

Mysteries, I think The Interviewer and Horatio would be great friends, lots of coffee instead of cocoa. If you like the way Amelia often goes “Well, we don’t have time to unpack ALL OF THAT NOW” . This one is not so much in relation to Amelia, as more a case of… It’s really, really good. I’ve never been to any american university - MIsomething and all - but… if they are all like that… O.O

Why I like it?

Lots of amazing banter, lots of plot twists. You never know what will happen next. Also, the characters <3 This is one of my favorite podcasts in regard to the characters, they just make me so happy.

How long did it take me to get into the story?

Few minutes, I started casually listening and now I go back to listen again xD

Others?

Someone please tell me that Horatio and the Interviewer would get along as well as I think they would?

[pizza-writes]

Worried

A Bad Batch one shot

Summary: When y/n is injured, they try to hide the severity of it, causing the boys to panic when it’s worse than they realized.

Pairings: None. Implied attraction to Hunter because, well, he’s hot.

Warnings: SFW. Broken bone, nausea, passing out. Doctor Tech. Comforting Wrecker. Also Guilty Wrecker. Comforting Hunter. Sassy Crosshair. Concerned Hunter. You know—the necessities of a hurt/comfort oneshot.

Word count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: this was originally posted on my other account @thereforepizza

if there’s anything else y’all see that needs tagged, please lmk and I’ll gladly tag it here !

Consciousness stirred you awake with a hesitant hand. You groaned, setting both feet on the floor and rubbing your eyes. If there were ever a day you wished you might forget, yesterday was it, yet the memory came back to you in an instant. The darkness. A shuttering breath. One mistake after another.

You made your body move, though each sore, aching muscle protested. With an effort, you got to your feet. Your right leg gave out. Cool, metal floor boards slapped your hands. Your lips loosed a whimper. Shaky, you got up, and a hand found the far wall for balance.

You caught your breath, wincing.

The next attempt to stand on two feet left you grimacing, acid rising from your stomach. This nausea plagued you from the moment of your injury. When you had risen from your place under the stones, you had instantly lost the contents of your stomach. This struck the entire squad by surprise because you possessed a stomach of steel. They brought you back to the ship and you passed out the moment your head hit the pillow of the lowest bunk. It wasn't your bunk, you realized, but nobody cared. The last thing you remembered was seeing the look of concern in Tech's eyes your focus waned. Looking back, it takes a lot to get Tech frazzled, so something must have been wrong.

Something was very wrong.

As your mind raced, your heart begged to be with the batchers. Something in your soul could sense that you needed to get their attention. If not that, then at least be near them. Tech could fix you. Hunter could comfort your fears. Wrecker could distract you. Crosshair… well, he might not appear to care, but you knew he’d want to do something.

You tried to stand again without being as gentle. Perhaps the mundane ache would be drowned out if you experienced something sharp and quick. You pushed against the wall and tears blinded you. You found your footing. Caught your breath. Fighting the urge to cry out, you limped through the cabin of the Marauder.

Every step made you sicker. Your fists balled at your sides. The pain was masked by numbness and an ache that crept clear to your shoulders as you moved. Perhaps your reaction was dramatized… Pride donned the poker face you plastered on as you sauntered into the cockpit. A last second call said they didn't need to see you wimping out on them.

"That's precisely my interpretation of the data, Hunter. We will deplete our stock of supplies in..." Tech trailed off, squinting at your newly arrived form. You nodded a greeting and found a seat, uncomfortably aware of the four sets of eyes on you.

"Go on,"

Tech adjusted his goggles. “You should be resting.”

"I'm not wasting that much energy, am I?"

He frowned at you, then at his beloved data pad. "We will deplete our supplies in two weeks. It is time we return to Kamino to regroup and restock any items that are low in our inventory."

"How long has it been?" Hunter glanced at you.

"According to each solar—"

"A long time," you hummed. You leaned forward on your elbows in an attempt to distract your mind. "I estimate two and a half months."

Tech paused, gears grinding. “You are almost correct. Two months and nineteen days. How'd you know that?"

A shrug and tilt of your head. “Good internal clock."

"My internal clock says we've been gone for forever!" Wrecker leaned back in his chair and you swore you heard it creak. "I almost lost track a how many successful missions we've done. Don’t you worry, though. It’s twenty-nine.”

Your hand slipped to a fresh bruise on your forearm.

“If it hadn’t been for someone’s recklessness, we would have had thirty.”

Wrecker’s voice sounded strained. “Shut up, Crosshair. It was an accident!”

You stood atop a hut raining hell on the droids around you. The mission’s end was in sight. The town’s liberation close at hand.

“Sure.” Crosshair’s voice turned cool. “But accidents happen when you’re too reckless.”

Boom

Hunter hushed them. “That’s enough, Cross. Arguing about it won’t change what happened.”

Misfire from a destroyed cannon did its job. The surface dissolved under you. Your fall was brief. Wrecker lifted a wall from you only minutes later. When you stood, the world danced, and not in a pleasant way. You threatened to shoot Tech when he tried to look over you for injuries. You pushed away Wrecker’s attempts at apology—claiming he had nothing to do with it even if he was the catalyst. On your way back to the shuttle your mind replayed a single, wistful phrase: ‘I’m not hurt.’

"How you holding up?"

You looked at Hunter. His eyes bored into yours. The question was aimed at you.

He let out a deep breath. “Thought we’d lost you there for a minute."

Your frown traveled to take in each of the batchers. They shared the same expression: concern. It sent you curling up into your seat.

“I was thinking.”

"I do not wish to alarm you…” Tech hesitated and looked at Hunter.

"You look sick. Your face is pale." Crosshair leaned forward. His serious tone made your heart drop.

Wrecker sat up. “You good, y/n?”

Your trademark tough shell shifted. "Wh—what?"

"Are you okay?" Hunter got up and closed the distance between you. "Be honest. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Sarge.”

The look in his eye spoke enough for you to admit defeat. Of course he would know. He could probably smell the blood.

"I believe it is necessary to examine you further.” Tech’s message was stately. You stood no chance arguing. "Crosshair, please take the controls.”

An extended hand grounded your scattered mind. You glanced up at Hunter. "Where we going?"

"To the back. Tech wants to check you."

"I uh… I heard that.” You hopped to your feet and everything went black.

You drew a sharp breath. The bunk above you shadowed your eyes. Head foggy, you took in the room. Hunter leaned against the wall, arms folded, scowl engrained in the skull adorning his face. Unmoving, he studied the floor.

You motioned to move and Hunter whispered. "Stay there, y/n."

He passed over to the bunk and pushed your feet back to the middle of the bunk before your mind caught up. The wealthy of Coruscant were more in tune with their surroundings than you. You bid your eyes close, and sleep greeted you again with far softer arms.

You awoke to the sound of two distant voices.

"She will need more rest, but we cannot wait to set it."

"Do you know how to do that?"

A beat. "I have read extensively on the topic. I have never needed to preform the operation, but I believe my knowledge is sufficient."

"Then do it. I reckon you'll need more local anesthetics?"

"No need. The supplies from this med-kit will work."

A sigh. Hunter’s voice softened. “Please don't get this wrong, Tech."

"They will be okay. Don't worry."

His gentle hand pushed your shoulder and you drew a breath, slowly coming from a sleep you didn’t know you’d fallen into. A frown mushed your face.

"Good morning, y/n.” Hunter hummed with a smile in his voice.

Your lips failed to formulate an intelligent reply, so you mumbled your similar return.

"Since we don’t have the right equipment, we need you to be awake so we can test these pain killers. Once we're sure they work, you can relax."

You nodded. "What is it?"

"You broke your... Tech, which bone is it?"

"The Tibia,"

"You broke your Tibia. Shin bone. We need to reset the bone so it doesn’t fuse wrong on the way back to Kamino."

"Do you feel this, y/n?"

A moment of confusion was followed by your looking down at Tech. He pressed on your exposed shin with a couple gloved fingers. The pressure didn't cause any reaction, but the sight of your wounded leg did. Fascinated, you wanted to touch it.

"No, no—lay back down." Hunter pushed you back onto the bed.

"Do you feel this?" You frowned down at Tech, wondering why he'd repeat his question when it struck you. His hand rested on another part of your leg. Satisfied, he turned to his datapad.

"I don't feel any of that. Is that bad?"

"Quite the opposite."

You caught Hunter’s shoulders relax. He turned to you and you met his eyes without a sound. A reassuring smile crossed his lips and you caught yourself thinking about just how handsome this man was. It took a moment to pull you back. Then you heard what he was saying to you.

"You can relax. We'll take it from here."

He didn't have to tell you twice. You were already embracing the darkness. A long time passed, you couldn't be sure how long. When you finally came to, you found yourself drifting away again. This became common until one time, you were able to hold onto a relative instance of consciousness. The dim room shifted as you sat up and scooted to lean your back against the wall.

This was not the Marauder.

Slow eyes scanned the disastrous room, hesitating on the fresh tally marks carved into the wall. They moved to the droid head on a table in the center of the space where Tech and Hunter sat. Eventually your gaze drifted to the pile of dirty blacks and then to the window that was pelted with large raindrops. You hadn't been on Kamino in a long time.

"Glad to see you awake.” Hunter greeted you, setting aside the armor he had been polishing.

"It hasn't been two weeks already, has it?" You noted that Crosshair and Wrecker were gone. "Tech said two weeks."

"It's been three days actually," he moved to lean over your... his bed. Resting his arm on the wall above the rather large alcove, he looked down at you. From there he went into the lame-man’s explanation of your surgery. It wouldn’t take long to heal, so the squad would head out in a few short rotations.

"The operation would have gone better if you were transparent about the extent of your injury." Tech had both elbows resting on the table and he looked up from the data pad in hand. He paused, eyes darting to the side. "On a… similar note: I should have recognized the symptoms immediately. Nausea and fatigue following a traumatic event are trademark symptoms of serious injury. I assumed that you were exhausted from the mission or perhaps angry at Wrecker. Had I been more thorough..."

"Hey.” You waited until his eyes met yours. "Don't blame anyone. We’re not gonna start that. I’m not upset at you for anything because it was out of your control. You were respecting my wishes to be left alone.”

A heavy sigh left his lips and he bobbed his head in agreement. "My apologies. When you fell in that building I knew it had to be worse than you let on."

Hunter frowned. "None of us realized how bad it was till you passed out in the cockpit."

Your chest grew heavy. "I'm sorry. I should've been more forthright."

"We forgive you. I want you to know that we care, y/n." You found Hunter's dark eyes. "Please tell us next time if you need help."

A beat followed before you nodded. "I will."

A minute later, the door hissed open and in came Wrecker shoving Crosshair. The sniper punched him in the gut and Wrecker grunted, swinging again. Cross dodged it easily. Hunter coughed pointedly. They both paused, staring your way. An enormous smile struck Wrecker and he clamored over to you like a little kid. Your entire body was buried in huge arms.

"How are you doing, y/n?" He held you at arms length and looked at you, brows stitched together. "I was worried sick!"

"I'm doing good, Wreck. I am pretty tired though." You stole a glance at Crosshair who stood near the door toothing a toothpick. "Apparently I have a good poker face.“

The sniper huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. You turned back to the large man who moved next to Hunter. His arms crossed and you caught a look come over him. His shoulders were a little more slouched than normal and after his initial reaction to seeing you, his brows furrowed at the ground.

“It’s come to my attention that there’s a bit of guilt going around you boys,” you said, trying not to directly aim your words at any of them. “But I want you to know that fretting over the past won’t make anything change. It won’t fix me. You know what will? Good vibes and a decent breakfast.”

Hunter smiled at them. “What do you say, boys? One of you wanna grab ‘em some grub?”

Wrecker whooped in approval and the others followed him to the door while Hunter stayed behind. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"You not going to eat?"

He shook his head. "I ate before they got up."

You hummed.

Steady raindrops filled the silence that ensued. The empty look in Hunter's eyes drew your observance. He stared at nothing, all the while looking at the galaxy. Those were the eyes of a burdened leader. You wondered if he knew he did this from time to time.

"Are you okay?"

The light reignited in his eyes and he turned his focus to you. "I will be,"

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. “What's up?"

He hesitated, eyeing the floor. "Just... when you passed out? I haven't lost any of my brothers in this squad. For a second, I thought I was going to lose you. I've never really let myself think about that before."

The expression on his face when you had woken a few days ago spoke a novel when paired with those words. Every mission that went well grew confidence in the boys. You saw this consistently. That confidence probably shattered the moment they realized one of them could get hurt. Did all of them feel the same fear?

That image made your heart race. You imagined their reaction when you failed to hide your pain. The thought of their worry plagued you. It was... mortifying.

"But you made it," he whispered. “And you're alright."

"I am,"

It took half an hour for the others to return. When they did, you found yourself watching them in a new light. Truly, these boys were different. You knew you'd be in good hands while you recovered from this inconvenient injury. The best part was that you'd have four... well, three really caring clones to keep your spirits up as you did so.

//~//~//

Thanks for reading!

Please reblog and comment to show support! At the end of these one shots I like to have a question to boost interactions—feel free to respond!

Q. Have you ever broken a bone? If so, would you be interested in sharing the story?

A. Nope! I've been close a time or two, but I have yet to break any bones

Masterlist

[fandomgirlz01]

Daddy’s Coming Baby Pt. 2

Frankie “Catfish” Morales X Reader

Imagine on my fandom instagram?: No

Prompt?: No

Request?: No

Requested prompt?: No

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here.

Post Date: January 5th, 2023

Post Time: 2:39 pm

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,208

Summary: When Frankie gets a phone call from his wife while at work, he at first thinks nothing of it before smiling and answering. What happens when it’s not the reader on the other side of the phone, but his crying, scared daughter? 

PSA: Again I do not know Spanish or it’s dialects. I used google translate and some of what I or Nat {Editor} did know or what I have read in other fics. I only know solo se un poco, so if I have anything wrong at all please please let me know and I will fix it. I am in no way trying to offend anyone by the Spanish that is in this Fic.

Please refrain from stealing our work, thank you and please enjoy!!

Frankie’s Pov: 

I jump and stir awake as my head falls slightly forward, making me wake up. I rub my eyes tiredly before looking back up at my wife. She stays still in the bed and I rub my face with a sigh before moving forward to grab her hand. 

“Come on, mi vida {my life}. You gotta wake up,” I tell her as I continue to rub the sleepiness out of my eyes.

It’s been a few hours and it’s early into the morning now. The police did come by and I answered all the questions they asked me. As they had left, they told me they’d be back again to talk to y/n when she wakes.

The doctor has been in a time or two so he could run some tests as well as a few nurses here and there to check on her and cast her left arm. One nurse brought me food and gave me a sympathetic smile before leaving. Now it’s all just a waiting game on when she’ll wake up. 

I keep a hold of her hand and pull it up to my lips to leave a kiss on the back of it. I stay leaned over with her hand held up to my cheek as I watch her face. I stare at her for a few minutes, just hoping she’ll give me a sign that she’ll wake soon. Then the door opens and the doctor walks in. 

“Mr. Morales, I have an update,” the doctor tells me as he strides in with a clipboard. 

“So there’s no internal bleeding and everything seems to be fine. She should wake soon, her body just needed some rest after the ordeal she went through,” he explains as he looks down at his clipboard. 

“Oh, and I’m sure it’ll please you to know the baby is fine as well. She must have protected her stomach area somehow, seeing as there’s no evidence of her being hit there,” he explains and my eyes widen before I fully turn to him. 

“Wait a minute. Did you just say… baby?” I ask in clear shock and his face falls. 

“Oh, you didn’t know? Well, then, congratulations. Your wife is pregnant. She’s almost seven weeks in. So it’s possible she herself didn’t even know, but that wouldn’t track with her coverage of her stomach…” he continues to explain some more as I try to wrap my head around it. 

“Well, I’ll give you some time to process it, but first we’d like to do one more scan just to make 100% sure the baby is uninjured. Would you like us to do it now or when she’s awake?” he asks and I take a moment to think about it. 

“I’d like to wait for her, if that’s possible?” I question and he nods. 

“It’s perfectly possible. When she does wake, just press the nurse's button and she’ll page me along with the officers from earlier,” he mentions as he motions to the button and I nod. 

“Ok. Well, I’ll leave you be for now…” he finishes off before walking out. 

Once he’s gone, I let the silence just wash over me before letting out a sigh as I sink down into my seat. It’s only a few minutes later that I jump when my phone goes off. Clicking it so it comes to life, I see that it's Pope calling and with one last sigh, I answer it. 

“Hey, Pope,” I answer with a sigh before rubbing at my tired eyes again. 

“Hey. How’s everything going?” he questions and I sigh again, shaking my head as I lean forward. 

“Well, they say she has no internal bleeding and all should be fine. She should hopefully wake soon,” I inform and decide to keep the baby news quiet until I can tell him with y/n as he lets out a sigh of relief. 

“That’s good to hear, man. How are you doing?” he inquires about me and I let out a huff. 

“Not so good, but I’ll be better when she wakes up,” I tell him and he lets out a hum. 

“That’s understandable, man. Will said that he was unable to clean up right now. Police have closed the house down for now. He told me to tell you he’ll clean it up as soon as he has access. The best they’d let him do is get a few essentials,” he informs me and I rub my eyes. 

“Ok. Uh, I guess I’ll have to get us a hotel when we get out of here then,” I reply with a sigh and again he tisks me. 

“No. No, hermano, don’t do that. You’ve got a place right here when she gets out if you need it,” he promises me and I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. 

“Gracias, hermano {thank you brother}, How’s Isey doing?” I ask about my daughter as I scratch at my cheek, trying to change the subject. 

“Well, Yovanna just got her to sleep about an hour ago. She didn’t want to sleep until you called her with news on Sweet Pea, but her tired little self just passed out from exhaustion,” he explains and I sigh, shaking my head again.

“Lo siento {I’m sorry}. I’ll come get her as soon as I can. We just have to get y/n to wake up first,” I promise and he gives me a tsk sound. 

“Don’t be sorry. Like I said, we’re familia {family} and we take care of each other. Plus, I’m sure when your pequeño gremlin {little gremlin} does wake up, she’ll enjoy playing with her primas and primos {cousins}. Take all the time you need, Fish. Get Sweet Pea up and around again,” he almost demands and I could almost cry with all the support he gives. 

“Gracias {thank you}, Pope. Will do,” I promise through a choked tone even when I try my hardest not to let my emotions get the best of me. 

“Anytime, Fish. Call us when you’re on your way home, yeah?” he asks and I nod as I rub at my eyes, trying to will the tears to go away. 

“Definitely. Gracias de nuevo {thanks again} Pope,” I give my thanks for the millionth time and I can only imagine him waving me off. 

“Like I said, familia {family}, so anytime, Fish,” he reiterates and I nod again. 

“Knock, knock. I’ve got breakfast…” The nurse, who’d said her name was Eve earlier, calls out as she comes in with food trays. 

“Hey. I gotta go. Nurse just brought food,” I quickly inform and he gives a small ‘hmm’. 

“Yeah. No hay problema {no problem}. At least someone is there making you eat,” Pope jokes and I give him a small chortle, much to my chagrin. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Adiós, hermano {bye brother},” I rush out before hanging up on him. 

I quickly get up and help Eve with one of the trays. She gives me a small smile of thanks before opening one. 

“You can have this one. I brought the other in case mama wakes up and is hungry. She is eating for two now,” Eve tells me as she puts the other tray into the mini microwave. 

“Oh believe me, I know… this would be my third,” I jokingly inform as I set the tray on the table on wheels before I sit back down. The nurse turns and raises an eyebrow at me. 

“This is yours and your wife’s third? First of all, good luck with three. Two, congratulations! I bet the other two are little angels,” she chirps and I chuckle as I scratch at my cheek again. 

“Thanks. Actually, my first child wasn’t with her. I had Camila with my first wife, then a few years after the divorce we got married and we had Eloise,” I explain and she nods as I lean back and cross my arms over my stomach. 

“Your assumption is only 80% true. Both Eloise and Camila can be little monsters when they want to be. Lord help when they get together after a long time not seeing each other,” I inform her with a chuckle and a shake of my head in indignation as she smiles. 

“Ahh, so this is only your guys' second?” she questions and I nod with a light smile, taking over. 

“Although she’d say Cam was her first baby any day, even without sharing blood,” I tell her and her smile turns into a grin. 

“She sounds like a wonderful mother. I’m sure she’ll be the same with this baby,” she comments and I hum in agreement. 

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” I agree with her as I look back at y/n for a moment. 

“How old are your other two? If you don’t mind me asking,” she asks and I smile, shaking my head. 

“No. It’s ok. I don’t mind. Eloise is now six, just turned six a few weeks ago, so that makes Camila about eight, almost nine now,” I explain and her eyes widen, making me laugh. 

“Wow, they’re older then I thought they’d be,” she admits and again I laugh. 

“Yeah, Cam was only about five months old when me and her mom got divorced,” I continue to explain and she gives an ‘ahh’ in return. 

“How old was she when you got remarried?” she asks and I take a moment to think about it. 

“Probably just about turning 2,” I inform and she nods. 

“Well, good luck again. She’ll be a teenager soon…” she playfully jokes with me and I roll my eyes. 

“Don’t remind me. I don’t know if I’m ready for that quite yet,” I groan out, rubbing my face and she laughs. 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. The main thing you’ll probably worry about is the boys…” she tells me and I shake my head. 

“Well at least I won’t be alone in talking the boys out. I’m sure her Tios {uncles} will help me. All the boys absolutely adore both Cam and Isey,” I joke and she laughs while grinning. 

“Well, she sounds like she’s got an army backing her up. How many uncles?” she asks and I chuckle again while shaking my head. 

“Oh, that she does. They have three uncles who were all special forces, including her and me,” I explain as I point to y/n, then myself. 

“Wow. Definitely got a good backup there. The teenage boys should be scared,” she jokes and I chuckle, nodding. 

“Most definitely. If it was me, I know I’d be scared,” I joke back and she laughs. 

“Anyway, this should keep the food somewhat warm until she wakes up. If it’s too cold, just let me know and I’ll bring something else. The doctor says it shouldn’t be too long now, so it shouldn’t be too bad,” she explains as she walks over and checks all of y/n’s vitals. 

“Doctor’s right, her vitals are looking up. Getting so much stronger,” she informs as she writes it on the chart. 

“Ok. That should be all. Just press the button if you need me, ok? I’ll come back for your tray when you're done eating,” she says as she motions to the button by the bed and I nod at her. 

When she leaves, it's silent again. I slowly pull the rolling table closer before pulling the top of the tray off and sigh when I see the hospital food. I pull out the fork from its plastic wrap and take a few bites before just shoving it to the side. 

The food now just sits on the side table as I sit back and rub a hand over my face. The heart monitor continues to beep and with every beep, a little more weight falls off my shoulders knowing my wife is still here with me. I sigh as I watch her face for any hope of her waking and before I know it, my head is tilting to the side. 

I fight the urge to sleep for a little while before succumbing to it and falling asleep. It’s not till a while later that I’m woken up by some voices. 

“He’ll be so happy you're awake,” I hear Eve's voice inform. 

“Shh, we’ll wake him,” y/n giggles out quietly and my eyes jump open. 

“Dang it! That’s just what we did…” y/n mutters as I look at her. 

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you. She just wanted her food, but you were out cold so she called me, wanting you to sleep a little more,” Eve explains with a shrug as she puts the food on the table in front of y/n. 

“No. No. It’s ok. You should have woken me anyway,” I mumble out as I sit up. 

“Baby, your back must be killing you,” y/n sympathizes with a frown and I smile softly at her. 

“I could care less about my back, mi amor {my love},” I promise, shaking my head before moving over to grab her hand. 

“I’m just glad you're awake,” I inform as I lay a kiss on her hand. 

“Well, aren't you two just adorable? I’ll give you some space. Doc should be in soon,” Eve coos with a light smile and I nod at her before she fully leaves. 

It’s quiet for a moment as I lean over to the bed with her hand in mine. I bring it to my lips and leave a kiss on it. I then pull it up to my cheek and just hold it there with my eyes closed.

“Frankie. Honey, is Eloise ok?” she breaks the silence and I nod with my eyes still closed. 

“She's fine, mi corazón {my heart}. Perfectly ok. I got her out of there,” I promise her still with my eyes closed, afraid this is a dream. 

“Frankie, baby. You can look at me,” she softly whispers as she caresses my cheek. 

“I’m scared it’s a dream, baby,” I tell her and she lets out a small giggle. 

“I promise you it’s not a dream. I'm right here, alive and well,” she promises and I sigh before opening my eyes once again. 

“See, I’m right here,” she coos as she puts her other hand on my cheek and uses both to gently pull my face so I’m looking into her eyes. 

“When Eloise called me… I… I…” I stumble over my words and y/n is quick to calm me. 

“Shhh. Baby, it’s over,” she gently hushes as she rubs my cheek softly with her thumb. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t home. I shouldn’t have taken that extra shift at the shop,” I choke out as I shake my head and tears start to fall. 

“Hey. No. This isn’t on you. Not one bit, okay? Please, Frankie, don’t blame yourself,” she practically begs me, pleading with her eyes. 

“Come here, babe,” she tells me as she takes her hands away from my face and pats the bed. 

I slowly get up and she moves over a bit as I sit down. I put my arm around her and she leans into me with a sigh as she cuddles into my side. I kiss her forehead as we settle into a comfortable silence as we hold one another. 

“Knock, knock,” the doctor speaks as the door opens and he comes in. 

“Aren’t you two just the cutest,” he jokes as he looks at us while Eve rolls in some equipment and gives us a small smile before leaving again. 

“I’m Doctor Faylor. I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’m just going to take a look over the bruising on your neck and then we can look at the baby, ok?” he introduces himself to y/n before asking, making both me and Y/n nod before I start to get up. 

“Wait… you know?” Y/n asks me with her eyes wide. 

“Yes, querida {dear}. I know,” I tell her as I sit back down in the chair. 

“I told him. I thought he had known, but he didn’t. We weren’t sure if you even knew. Although I am sure you did since the wounds on your arms suggest you had covered your stomach,” Doctor Faylor explains as he puts his gloves on. 

“Yeah… I knew… I was going to tell you after dinner tonight-” she starts to explain and I shake my head. 

“Last night,” I correct with a light chuckle when she pauses and rolls her eyes at me. 

“I thought after I told you we could have decided when to tell Eloise and others together…” she timidly continues to explain and I give her a smile, nodding as she reaches out to me. 

“Ok. Let’s have you sit up,” Doctor Faylor gently commands her and she nods before letting go of my hand to use both of her hands to push herself into a sitting position. 

She then swings her legs over the side of the bed and sits sideways. Doctor Faylor then uses his stethoscope to check her heart and lungs. He nods, pleased as he pulls the earpieces down and places it back around his neck. 

“Ok. Mrs. Morales, I’m going to touch the bruises on your neck and I want you to tell me how much the pain level is from one to ten, ok?” he asks her and she nods timidly. 

I reach my hand out and grab onto hers again, rubbing my thumb over the back of hers. She gives me a small thankful smile before Doctor Faylor is pressing lightly on her neck. He presses into it for a few more minutes and she flinches one or two times as she mutters out a light five. 

“Well, you're talking and you only really flinched twice as well as telling me pain is only at a five. So I think you're better off than we originally thought,” Doctor Faylor explains as he pulls away from her. 

“The bruises should go away sometime soon, so other than that I guess now we should check on baby, yeah?” he asks as he takes his gloves off before washing his hands. 

He rolls the machine Eve brought in over next to the bed. He then rolls his stool over and takes a seat on it. 

“Yes, please,” y/n replies with a grin as she slowly lifts her shirt as she leans back onto her bed again. 

“Warning, this’ll be a little cold,” he warns her and she shrugs. 

“I know. I’ve done this before,” she jokes with a giggle, making me shake my head in disbelief before standing up. 

I walk around to the other side of her bed and she scoots over just a bit as I sit down next to her. She smiles up at me as she holds her non-casted hand out and I can’t help but to smile as I grab onto it. She lays our joined hands just under her breast bone before turning back to the doctor as he finishes setting the machine up. 

He then picks up the gel and squirts it onto her stomach. She flinches just the slightest, squeezing my hand as she giggles. 

“It’s almost hard to believe I was in special forces, huh hon?” she asks me and I give her a confused look. 

“And why is that, Cariño {sweetie}?” I ask her and she giggles again. 

“Well for one, I didn’t fight back with Hector and two, I’m all giddy and happy,” she explains and I shake my head, letting out a chuckle. 

“Cariño, me encanta {Sweetheart I love}, I promise you this is how you’ve always been. Even when you joined the group way back when. Why do ya think your nickname is sweet pea?” I joke with her, making her roll her eyes as a nurse walks in and over to the doctor. 

“Frankie, honey. I’m sure I seemed more serious at one point or another,” she tells me and I playfully roll my eyes, making her scoff as she hits my chest. 

“Oh, of course you did, mi amor {my love}. What was I thinking?” I playfully roll my eyes, making the doctor chuckle as the nurse and him look at us. 

“I know right?” she jokes and I roll my eyes at her. 

“But really, querida {dear}. You’ve been out for almost nine years now. You're bound to forget about some of our old ways. I know I have… I don’t think I’d be able to do it now that I’ve been out so long,” I inform her and she nods, pursing her lips. 

“I suppose you may be right…” she agrees, trailing off. 

“May be? Honey, I’m always right,” I joke and she giggles. 

“Oh, of course…” she playfully agrees and I chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief.  

“I’m sorry for interrupting. I just had to give the doctor some information. Carry on. Congratulations on the baby,” the nurse tells us before she scurries out of the room. 

“Ok… let’s see here,” Doctor Faylor speaks aloud as goes back to looking before turning the screen to us. 

“All looks very well. This right here is the little bean. It’s still a little too early to know much, but baby and mama look very healthy so far,” he explains as he points out the baby:

“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” Doctor Faylor asks and y/n’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. 

“Wait, you can do that this early on?” Y/n asks in shock and Doctor Faylor nods while humming. 

“Yes, we can,” he replies with a smile and y/n nods quickly. 

“Then can we, please?” she asks and he nods at her. 

“Of course. Let me just find it,” he promises as he moves the doppler around. 

“Frankie, we're having another baby…” y/n turns to me with a big smile and for a moment I can’t help but to just forget about the circumstances of why we’re actually in this hospital. 

“That we are, estimado {my dear} and I couldn’t be happier about it. Although this time, it better be a boy,” I joke with her as I rub my thumb over the back of her hand and she giggles. 

“I can’t promise you that, honey,” she jokes back and I chuckle, shaking my head. 

“Ayyy. Dios, ayúdame si conseguimos otra chica… {lord help me if we get another girl…}. That’s when I’ll believe in the curse you were telling me about…” I promise her and she giggles some more. 

“Curse?” Doctor Faylor asks with a raised eyebrow as he starts to take pictures for us. 

“Sí. She was telling me that her family is cursed to only basically have girls. I told her we’d break it cause I’m not getting stuck with all girls,” I joke with a smirk as she slaps my arm. 

“Either way, you’d love it. You love being a father of daughters. Admit it. I know you do,” she tells me and I playfully shrug. 

“Maybe I do…” I coyly agree with her and she giggles, shaking her head before looking back at the screen. 

“Ok. I’ve found it. Here’s your baby’s heartbeat,” Doctor Faylor announces as he turns a dial on the side. 

It goes quiet for a moment before we hear a small thump sound and a smile takes over my face. I involuntarily let out a sniffle and y/n looks at me. 

“Awe, honey. You're crying,” she comments as she lets go of my hand to wipe at my face. 

“I just can’t help it. That’s our child, mi amore {my love},” I say through my tears and she smiles even more. 

“Honey, I know. It’s quite an amazing thing, isn’t it,” she tells me and I nod vigorously, making her laugh. 

“Ok. Baby’s heart beats seem to be staying at an even 156,” Doctor Faylor tells us and I shake my head. 

“Is that a good thing? They didn’t tell us that the last two times,” I ask and he nods while chuckling. 

“Yes. It’s very good. Perfect actually. A good healthy range is between 140 and 170, so your little peanut is right in the middle range. She sounds healthy and strong,” the Doctor explains and y/n turns, grinning at me. 

“Frankie…” y/n says in a tearful tone and I chuckle before hugging her. 

“I know, mi vida {my life}, I know,” I softly tell her and she sniffles into my chest. 

“Ok. Well everything looks ok with mama and baby. I took some photos and I wrote down measurements. They'll be in your file ready to go home with you when you sign out,” Doctor Faylor explains as he turns the machine off and hands y/n a towel. 

“Ok. Thank you so much, Doctor,” I agree with a light smile as y/n wipes her stomach off. 

“Now. I hate to ruin the happy happy moment…” the doctor speaks again, making me frown and shake my head. 

“You didn’t ruin anything at all,” y/n speaks up before I can as she smiles at him. 

“You actually made this so nice,” she continues and he chuckles before shaking his head. 

“No. I know. I’m glad I could make your day a little better, but uhh, the police are here for your statement,” the doctor hesitantly tells us and my smile falls as silence takes over. 

“They're out front. I told the nurse not to let them in until you're ready for them,” Doctor Faylor quickly explains and y/n nods lightly. 

“Ok. Go ahead and send them in,” she tells him as she straightens up just a bit as she squeezes my hand. 

“Ok. I’ll bring them right in. Just a moment,” Doctor Faylor tells us with a final nod before he walks out. 

I squeeze her hand back before standing up from the bed. I let go of her hand just to walk around back to my chair, before grabbing back onto it. It’s quiet now as we wait and y/n sighs. 

“Hey. You’ll be ok. I’ll be here the whole time,” I promise her and she nods just as the door opens. 

“Hi, Mrs. Morales, I’m Athena. I’m here to take your statement,” the officer introduces herself as she walks in and comes to a stop next to me. 

The officer then stays for maybe twenty to thirty minutes talking with y/n. She tells them what happened and I stay silent as she explains. As she recounts everything, I rub my thumb over the back of her hand, trying to keep her calm as well as myself. 

Hearing all that happened makes my blood boil and I have to restrain myself from rushing out of the hospital to hunt Hector down. I’d use my past training as best as I possibly could to take him on for trying to lay a hand on my family. I’m quickly broken out of my thoughts when the officer hums as she puts her pen away. 

She tells us she has all she needs and that she promises to put him away for good before leaving. Once the door closes behind her, y/n sighs and it gets silent again. I let it stay quiet so y/n can work though her thoughts before anything else happens. 

“Frankie… can we go home soon?” she soon whispers out her question and my heart hurts for her. 

“Por supuesto {of course}, mi amor. I’ll go talk with the nurses and hopefully get you signed out,” I tell her and she nods before sinking down into the bed. 

I shake my head lightly before walking out of the room. Once the door closes behind me, I let out a puff of air before heading to the nurses station down the hall. 

“Hi, sir. How can I help you?” the nurse sitting at the desk asks as she looks up at me. 

“Umm, I was wondering if I could get the paperwork to sign my wife out?” I ask and she nods before quickly getting up. 

“Of course, sir. One moment and I’ll have them ready for you. Would you like me to bring them to her room or are you wanting to wait here?” she asks me as she looks through a filing cabinet. 

“Um, here if I could. She just needs a moment to herself, I think,” I inform her and she nods before walking back over to me. 

She puts the papers in front of me before she grabs a stack of arrow sticky notes. She goes through and puts one next to every spot I need to sign before putting the sticky notes down. She hands a pen to me before taking a seat back at her computer. 

I take it and make quick work of signing it all. When I’m done, I close the pen and pick up the paperwork. 

“Here you go,” I tell the nurse as I hand it to her. 

“Whoa, you’re quick,” she chuckles out as she stands back up. 

“Yeah, well, my wife is ready to leave. I don’t want to make her stay longer than she has to,” I inform her and she smiles softly in understanding as she takes the papers. 

“Ok. All looks good. You're good to head out whenever you’re ready to go now,” she tells me as she takes a quick look over it all. 

“Ok. Thank you,” I respond before pushing myself off the counter and starting to walk back to her room. 

I walk back, but take a moment to take a deep breath before opening the door. Once I feel a little more calm, I open the door and walk back in. 

“Hey. We’re good to go whenever you want to, mi amor {my heart},” I tell her and she nods with a light smile. 

“Thank goodness. I’m ready to be home with my baby,” she groans out and I shake my head, chuckling. 

“Actually, miel {honey}, unfortunately we can not go home,” I break it to her and she looks at me confused. 

“Why not?” she asks and I sigh. 

“The police don’t want us back. They’ve closed it off as a crime scene. So I have plans for us to stay with Pope,” I inform her and she sighs before nodding. 

“Ok. Let’s go there then, I guess,” she agrees and I nod. 

“Ok. Let’s go then, if you’re ready?” I agree before questioning her and she nods. 

“Do I have clothes to change into?” she asks and I shake my head. 

“No. Sorry. I can have one of the boys bring you some. They have to pick us up anyway and I believe Will said he got some of our stuff from the house,” I tell her and she sighs before just agreeing with a nod. 

“I guess that’ll work. All I know is I just want a normal bed,” she groans and I nod. 

“Of course, baby, that makes total sense. I’ll go call Pope right now,” I inform her and she nods before sinking down on her bed while closing her eyes. 

To Be Continued…

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[eddieschains]

Complex

Eddie Munson X Reader

A/N: okay this is very short and i was not going to post this at all but the more i read it the more i like it which is not normal for me so i guess i’ll post it 😭 also im gonna be honest there really isn’t a lot of eddie interactions in this and it’s mainly just readers internal dialogue and it is a bit sad so if that isn’t for you i totally understand and you can skip!!

TW// mentions of mental health/depression and the physical side effects of that)

It was just one of those days. Well, months. Months of just feeling… off. You weren’t sure what happened or why you were feeling like this, but all you knew was that it didn’t feel good.

Everyday was worse. Falling further into that feeling of drowning and not knowing how to swim, until one day you reached the bottom of the ocean. Did something happen to make you break? No. Nothing that you could put your finger on at least.

You were tired. Tired of feeling like this, tired of not feeling normal, happy. You should be happy. You had a wonderful boyfriend. You had your own place. You had your friends. And you felt so fucking selfish that it still wasn’t enough.

Eddie was already gone when you woke up. He’d been working earlier shifts at the shop so he could spend time with you at night. But most nights, you were already asleep when he got home.

Was it weird for you to be asleep when he left and asleep when he got home? Sure. But he didn’t question you. Well, how could he when you were never awake to be questioned?

You laid in bed practically all day. Debating on doing the laundry, doing the dishes, maybe fixing up the yard while you were at it. You just didn’t have the energy. That’s probably what made you snap.

You were just frustrated with yourself. You seriously don’t have the energy to do normal tasks? When was the last time you took a shower? Or cooked dinner instead of ordering pizza? Or even vacuumed the house? How pathetic are you?

The tears in your eyes didn’t even have a chance to bubble before they began spilling out. Violent sobs escaping your mouth while you were at it. You tried to be quiet, knowing your roommate Steve would be home from his morning run any minute. And Robin might still be home too. But it was just one more thing you couldn’t seem to control.

You mustered up just enough energy to get out of bed and lock the bedroom door before falling back on top of the mattress. If they were going to hear your pitiful cries, you didn’t want to give them a chance to barge in on you, making it worse.

Almost on que, you hear the front door unlock, followed by Steve’s heaving panting. You don’t know why, but it makes you cry harder. It’s almost as if your body wanted someone to hear you, to help you, and you could only wish you could punch yourself in the face for that.

You hear the trail of footsteps making their way to the hallway, stopping right in front of your door. Shit. You bury your head into the pillow, waiting to hear him walk away. It seems like hours before they do, but you’re able to mentally sigh a release of relief.

The fear of nearly being caught shocks your cries back into your body, allowing you to relax just for a moment. Closing your eyes until you’re able to lull yourself back to sleep, back to your only place of comfort.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you’re jolted back awake. Back to the place of reality, the place of darkness. It seems like you don’t get a single minute of calm before the storm approaches once again.

You accept your defeat, curling up underneath the covers before letting round two spill from your eyes. There’s no point in fighting it anymore. Steve is home, Robin probably is too, but you’ve lost the power to even care about being quiet anymore.

Time is frozen. You’ve completely disassociated from reality until a loud bang brings you back.

“Y/N?” Eddie. Shit shit shit. “Y/N, can you please unlock the door?” You take a deep breath in, wiping your tears with your sleeve before making your way to the door.

You hold your hand on the handle for a few seconds, before unlocking and opening it. Finding a disheveled looking Eddie before forcing a smile across your face.

“Hi baby, why are you home so early?” You ask, your voice reaching a few octaves higher than normal. Eddie rushes in, closing the door behind him.

“Please don’t pretend like you’re okay right now. I know you’re not.” His voice isn’t angry, it’s worrisome. And it breaks your heart even more to know that you’re the reason for it. “Steve called.” He blurts out, and your stomach falls. “Listen, you don’t have to talk about it. But, I don’t want you to be alone right now, okay?”

You nod, making your way back into the bed. Eddie stays on the other side of the room, watching as you assume your previous position under the blankets.

He sighs, making his way to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge. “Can I join you?” Your only response being holding the blanket open, inviting him inside.

He shuffles underneath the covers, enveloping you in his arms. You nuzzle your head into his chest, wrapping your limbs around him as well.

You two stay attached to each other, relishing in the silence for what feel like an eternity. It’s the first time you’ve felt safe in months. The first time you don’t have a sinking feeling in your chest. The first time you don’t feel like crying. The first time you think you might be able to smile, genuinely smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie finally asks. You think about it for a second, but you don’t want to ruin this moment by breaking down again.

You mumble a simple no, before burying your head into his chest once again. He whispers an okay, before placing a kiss on your forehead and holding you even tighter than before.

That was the thing about Eddie. He always gave you a safe space to talk about your feelings with no judgment, but he never rushed you or expected you to do so.

Sure, he might’ve been a little bit disappointed that you didn’t tell him you were struggling earlier, but it was more disappointment on his part for not noticing sooner.

Maybe you’d talk to him about it one day, but not today. Today you just wanted him to hold you. Tell you he was here, and that he wasn’t going anywhere. Today you just wanted to feel a glimmer of hope, a sliver of being okay. Eddie was all you needed for that to become a reality.

[jensen-ackles-girl]

Author’s Note: This is the first story I've posted on here, bare with me guys I've been trying to work on my writing it's not that good so please don't hate on my grammar or spelling errors I'm trying! I hope you like

(I've decided to make this a series so hope you guys like it)

Pairing: Jared x SisterReader! , Genevieve x Reader (mentioned), jensen x reader (mentioned) , jensen x reader

Summary: Y/N is the younger sister of Jared padalecki they both grew up in San Antonio, Texas they both have good acting jobs both live in Austin, Texas so when the opportunity of a lifetime comes to Y/N to fly to Vancouver to be apart of supernatural

Warnings: Fluff,Some cussing,Family

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Chapter 7

Y/N was tired all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and go to sleep of course though that wasn't going to happen till later they where still working on a couple of scenes she was finding herself getting sleeper and sleeper on brakes she found herself getting coffee to stay awake they had finally finished filming the last scene it was getting hard to function so to her relief she heard the director call it a day she jumped internally because if she physically did it she would probably have fallen over she pushed herself through to walk to her trailer to grab her things.

Y/N rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn and grabbed her stuff walking out of her trailer she bumped into someone on the way out she mumbles a sorry to the person as she yawned again. The person chuckled she knew that chuckle from anywhere she looked up and saw jensen standing there. She let out a bashful smile "I'm so sorry Jen" he chuckled again "it's okay" he paused taking in y/n sleeply state "come on I'll walk you to the car. She had no time to process as she felt his hand resting on her lower back and started walking to the parking lot. She didn't protest she just walked with him as they got to the car she gave him a sleepy smile. He returned it as he helped her into the car. He made sure she was buckled up before shutting the door.

She let out a sleepy thank you as he closed the door he smiled and nodded minutes later the door opened again and someone climbed in she had no idea who it was because she had already fallen asleep the car ride home was smooth she hadn't woken up the only time she woke up was someone nudging her arm she rubbed her eyes and looked over to see who it was and it was her brother Jared "hey sleepy head" he chuckled "we're home" he helped her out of the car and into the house. When she couldn't make it up the stairs he picks her up and takes her to her bedroom where he lays her down on the bed gently and take off her shoes. He gently pulls her jacket off of her and covers her up. He kisses the top of her head and flipped her light off and shut the door on the way out.

Y/N slept the whole night long only getting up a few times to go to the bathroom her alarm went off and she shut it off and got up making her way to the bathroom and showered then got dressed in jeans and a tee shirt throwing on her jacket then put her shoes on making her way down the stairs to the kitchen starting a pop of coffee and started making breakfast for everyone she had decided to make pancakes the second one up was Genevieve she walked into the kitchen "Y/N you didn't have to make breakfast for everyone" she turned around and smiled at her "oh please it's not a problem and besides it gives you a break" she smiled and nodded "well thank you". She smiled "and nodded you bet" she fixed her a plate as the kids came down next she fixed them a plate making sure they ate as she made jared a cup of coffee hearing his loud footsteps coming down the stairs.

She smiled at jared as she handed him the cup. He smiled at her "thank you" she nodded "your welcome" she fixed him a plate of pancakes as she fixed herself one and a cup of coffee they both sat down and ate chatting with the kids and Genevieve once they got done jared started clearing the plates. Y/N drunk the rest of her coffee as she grabbed her purse getting ready to leave they had work in a few minutes she kissed the top of Shep's head then Tom's as she told gen bye. Her and jared walked out the door cliff waiting on them they both climbed into the car and cliff started his way driving them to set.

Tags

@supraveng

[hareharrison]

hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest. 

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?” 

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, ��now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

[allwaswell16]

This is a fic rec of One Direction fic writers who both appreciate positive, long comments and enjoy replying back to these comments! This was made in honor of an enthusiastic friend who had a few bad experiences commenting in our fandom and receiving less than kind replies. Instead of just fuming about it, I decided to do something about it. I knew that most writers would absolutely love to receive comments like the ones she leaves, so I made a post asking for writers who fit this to recommend their fics to us. And wow did you all come through for us! 

Below the cut are 54 writers, each with one of their fics to recommend to us! But please be sure to check out all their other fics as well! I’ll put the fics in order of wordcount and I’ll list pairing, rating, and wordcount along with the summaries. 

(Please note that there are really lovely writers out there who also very much appreciate each and every one of their comments, but are too overwhelmed or anxious to reply. I am not at all saying that writers who don’t reply are unappreciative!)

Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse​ / writing_practice [Louis/Harry, E, 162k]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hold You Now by @solvetheminourdreams​ [Louis/Harry, M, 131k]

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

forever is in your eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed​ / we_are_the_same [Louis/Harry, M, 125k]

Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.

He wants-

He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.

A statue that Louis has just kissed.

don’t want to fight you by @lt2soon​ / starryharry [Louis/Harry, M, 124k]

Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good.

Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point.

Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo [Louis/Harry, E, 114k]

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

promise your whispers are mine by @lightwoodsmagic​ / lightswoodmagic [Louis/Harry, E, 94k]

"Where did I say it’s been easy for you, or,” he paused, staring at Harry’s lowered head and willing him to look up, “where have you ever gotten the idea that it’s been easy for me either?” When a few beats had passed and Louis was sure the conversation was done, Harry looked up, straight into Louis’ eyes like he was trying to physically pin him in place. “Our situations are completely different and you know it, please stop trying to - .” “Then let me help you fix it, Harry,” Louis interrupted, desperate to reach out and cover his hand with one of his own. “Let me help, please.”

Harry’s the head chef at Azoff’s Catering, and he loves his job; the opportunity has always been more than he could dream of and he’s proud of the food he creates. Until he meets Louis, an event coordinator rising through the ranks with his own company, and who reminds him of the dreams he once had for his own career. While their easy friendship initially thrives in an industry known for chaos and betrayal, they soon discover they both have their secrets, and maybe it’s too late for either of them to try to find happiness outside of their work. Especially when they realise that their happiness might rely on each other.

Playin’ It Safe and Breakin’ The Rules by @local-troubled-writer​ / local_troubled _writer [Louis/Harry, M, 90k]

In his life, Louis Tomlinson set out to do three things: find a way to make art that he loves, make his mum proud, and have as much fun as he could reasonably fit into one lifetime.

--

“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice calls.

“Hi,” Louis pops his head out of his doorway, motioning Harry back. “Louis,” he holds his hand out for Harry to shake and a small grin takes over the popstar’s face. He’s taller than he seems in photographs, but his smile is just the same as the ones that used to wallpaper his sisters’ walls.

“Harry.” He seems to have just gotten off stage, still sweating in a pair of skin-tight black jeans but a soft-looking blue vest. A beige headscarf holds his long curls off his face and he has all the easy confidence of a world-famous pop sensation, but still slouches in a way that isn't unfamiliar to Louis’ own posture.

“Yeah, I know who you are, popstar.” Louis teases, pulling his hand away and jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

--

or the One Where Maybe this Fake Relationship Gets a Little Too Real.

Consequences by @allwaswell16​ [Louis/Harry, E, 78k]

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

The Sound The Leaves Make In The Heat Of The August Sun by @sleepwalk-living / anderscones [Louis/Harry, T, 76k]

Louis is an elf who lives in the Kingdom’s forest, as far away from the pompous Castle Court as he can get while staying within city limits. He’s a thief out of necessity and is happy enough to steal from the rich when they’re not looking. He notices something mysteriously dangerous happening in his forest one morning and begs for an investigation from the Court, who of course tells him he’s seeing things.

Intro a shamed knight, a runaway prince, a blacksmith, and a mage with fae blood who figure something is better than nothing. The King is all too happy to make criminals out of them and run them thinner than they already are just to prove a point to his son. With the combined powers of Captain Pla- One Direction, they figure it out.

adjudication by @bottomlinsons​ [Louis/Harry, T, 75k]

Harry's been engaged to Princess Charlotte of Ryde for as long as he can remember. He's come to know her, to love her, through the letters she's sent him over the past three years.

But when the wedding finally arrives, Harry quickly learns that nothing is as it seems. With his crown and country at stake, Harry must decide who to trust in this strange new land. And the sly Crown Prince of Ryde doesn't seem inclined to make things easy.

The Ground Below is Above My Feet by @zanniscaramouche​ / zanni_scaramouche [Louis/Harry, E, 63k]

“-ouis, are you awake?”

“M’ff,” Louis manages. Slowly he remembers where he is. Who he is. His nerve endings take stock of his body, the soft sheets twisted around his legs and the warm rush of breath on his face. Harry.

“You were sleeping like the dead,” Harry muses, calloused fingers delicately brushing through Louis’ fringe. “Could barely tell if you were breathing.”

Louis' heart stutters, his throat working hard to swallow the lump of ugly truth. Blinks until Harry’s bright eyes come into focus across the pillow.

He holds back the obvious joke.

Plant New Seeds in the Melody by @vintageumbroshirt​ / 28sunflowers [Harry/Louis, E, 58k]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

Live a Thousand Lifetimes by @laynefaire​ / Layne Faire [Zayn/Liam, E, 57k]

It’s 2025.

After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.

With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight​ [Harry/Louis, E, 57k]

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

-

Or, Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

I'm On the Hunt Now (I'm After You) by @afangirlfantasy​ [Louis/Harry, M, 56k]

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything.

Or...an AU where Alpha Harry and Omega Louis have a lot more than falling in love to deal with after The Mating Ceremony.

That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright​ / yeah_alright [Louis/Harry, T, 50k]

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

Baby, Won’t You Look My Way? by @peachbootylouis​ / PeachBootyLou [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

Louis tiptoed to the door and opened it, looking over his shoulder for a moment. Harry looked absolutely gorgeous, almost enough to make him strip back down and give it another go. But that wasn’t who Louis was. So he sighed and stepped outside, leaving back to his flat. And for the first time in years, he felt alive.

Or the where Louis’ routine centered life runs like clockwork until a chance hook up throws a wrench named Harry into it all. But as it may turn out a change in plans could be what Louis has needed all along.

dirty laundry looks good on you by @tomlinvelvetfics​ / tomlinvelvet [Louis/Harry, E, 50k]

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

OR; the utility room is a great place to fall in love.

Passing By by @larryyouknow​ / Larry_you_know [Louis/Harry, E, 48k]

Sometimes, people are in each other's lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.

Or the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.

i kiss you (across hundreds of separating years) by @milkcurls / loveroflou [Louis/Harry, M, 44k]

He reminds Louis of the day he met him, the first day of Harry’s first year and Louis’ second, when he stood on wobbly legs beside Zayn, his cheeks flushed and hair parted to the side and tucked neatly behind his ear. He’s all dainty and soft – he’s pretty, Louis can admit that.

He’s also a rich frat boy who fucks every omega that will throw themselves at him – and they all do – so instead of pretending to be a precious little doll Louis thinks he should spend more time learning how to be a decent human being.

or, the stars and two amused boys are playing cupid, and there are one too many coded love letters and a duck plushie that smells like home

don’t want no other shade of blue by @louisisworthit​ / padfootyoudog [Louis/Harry, E, 43k]

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

A Thousand More by @travelingwinchester​ / Ot5aresoulmates [Louis/Harry, NR, 42k]

Harry wakes up one morning during the separation of April 2015 missing Louis fiercely. He wonders if they had never been on the X-Factor would they have met. Cue the weirdest "dream" he's ever had in which lessons about the course of true love are learned.

fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry​ [Louis/Harry, T, 41k]

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.

It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.

When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.

Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.

He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by @runaway-train-works / runaway _train [Harry/Louis, E, 40k]

“Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.

“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?"

“Harry.”

“What?"

“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.

Louis is so fucked.

Or

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

Without you it’s a season I ain’t needing by @whatevertearsyou​​ / perfectdagger [Louis/Harry, M, 38k]

Spring was everything in '17, now I'm just cold Summer fell to fall after all November froze Without you it's a season I ain't needing, I want to go come back home The reds and all the greens don't mean a thing when you're gone Winter means nothing to me now without you.

A long distance relationship au in which Harry is away for a year and Louis is left to pick up the pieces.

take my hand, wreck my plans by @daggerandrose​ / amomentoflove [Harry/Louis, T, 38k,]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

I Wish, I Found Love by @slytherinzouis​ / friendofhayley [Louis/Harry, E, 37k]

A fandom retelling of the Maiden Without Hands.

Solace is a land of religious hypocrisy, demons, and two ostracized families. When prophets from every denomination foretell a boy of unknown origin who might change the tide of the magical world, is any place safe for him?

Harry and Louis grew up together, two pariahs among their peers. Will their love be able to overcome distance, prophecies, and the trials of finding out who you truly become under pressure?

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by @lululawrence​ [Harry/Louis, NR, 36k]

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.

There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.

Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.

Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.

Your Wonder Under Summer Skies by @emilee1421​ / Emilee_1421 [Louis/Harry, NR, 34+, wip]

Needing an escape after a particularly hectic year, Louis decides to join Harry in Italy where Harry is working on his next Gucci campaign. While in Italy the two decide to join an old friend at her county home to enjoy a much deserved break from their usually busy lives. Louis and Harry begin to see their friend in a different light and all three are forced to confront the possibility that their friendship may actually be something much deeper.

Work of Magic by @justalarryblog​ / Bekita [Louis/Harry, NR, 34k]

"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.

"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.

"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.

But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.

Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.

Swear I’ve Known You Since Forever by @louinlavender​ / abaddxns [Louis/Harry, T, 33k]

Harry then pats around his trouser pockets only to remember that Gemma has his phone in her bag so he can’t even call her, and he’s far too intimidated to ask a stranger if he can borrow theirs. She has his wallet, too, so all he has on his person are the stick of gum in his back pocket and his muddy wellies and a too-long scarf he’s ready to ball up and throw the ground, because he’s only sixteen and he’s just a shopboy in a bakery and he’s about to cry twenty minutes into his first music festival that he had to beg to attend, all because he lost his big sister and her uni friends, who didn’t even want him to come in the first place, and—

“Oi, y’alright, mate?” a bright voice asks, just as his eyes start to water.

Or: Harry attends his first music festival and promptly gets lost. Little does he know that the first friendly face he encounters is bound to change his life forever.

Part one of three of 'And The Sun Came Out'—a series detailing the growth of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years after meeting at Leeds Fest as teenagers.

i’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by @tomlinbuns​​ / pixies [Louis/Harry, E, 26k]

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

Dear Diary (series) by @alwayslarry-vol28​ / kikiberosski16 [Louis/Harry, E, 20k]

Life in quarantine is hard, especially if you're an arrogant son of a bitch and your husband is a stubborn little shit. Harry and Louis argue a lot, so much it affects their daily routines. Harry tries to write his feelings down in a diary, but will this cause more trouble for the couple?

The Golden Prince by @behappyhl​ [Harry/Louis, E, 19k]

When He arrives in London, he’s speechless.

It’s so different from his little hometown, he can’t help the feeling that it is an unknown planet. Everything is bigger; The streets, the buildings, the stores. The people are always running somewhere, always in a hurry. Harry instantly feels out of place.

Or, Harry lives a perfectly normal life until he gets a life changing job opportunity.

The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart by @louloubabys1992​​ / louloubaby92 [Louis/Harry, M, 17k]

Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with. Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. Yeah...

Sweet Heart by @bluecolouredlou​ [Niall/Louis, G, 16k]

Designing clothes, not falling in love.

That was what Niall had in mind when he first met up with Louis. He couldn't be falling in love with the other omega. Not while work as one of the few omegas at the company was getting more stressful. Not when he was supposed to find an alpha and settle down.

just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface​ [Harry/Louis, M, 15k]

Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–”

“Do you want to come up?”

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.  

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…”

“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

wasting my time when it was always you by @hometothecanyonmoon​ / sunflower_lwt [Harry/Louis, T, 15k+, wip]

A "Married To The Maverick Millionaire" AU. Louis is the captain of Manchester United, Harry's the heir of the richest charity organization in the country as well as his best friend and they have to fake being married to save both of them from impending doom.

Sounds like love to me by @neondiamond​ [Louis/Harry, G, 14k]

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

The Prince and the Youtuber by @haztobegood​ [Louis/Harry, E, 12k]

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

One Way Road To Something Better by @femstyles​ [Harry/Louis, T, 12k]

Four years ago when Louis and Harry moved in together, Louis promised Anne that he’d take care of Harry no matter what. But things don’t always go as planned, and sometimes risky choices have to be made.

Inspired by Don't Let It Break Your Heart

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) by @thedevilinmybrain​ / devilinmybrain [Harry/Louis, E, 12k]

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

my solitude ain’t the same no more by @dryourtearsaway​​ / louisnights [Harry/Louis, M, 10k]

Louis is a traveling homicide detective who goes to the small town of Holmes Chapel to investigate the murder of a young woman.

somewhere only we know by @quelsentiment​ / wordsnnotes [Zayn/Louis, T, 9k]

Their eyes meet again, and the man suddenly frowns, asking: “Do we know each other?” Oh. So maybe that’s why Zayn is so intrigued with him. He’s always been pretty bad at remembering people’s faces, but there is some kind of vague familiarity to the man’s appearance. “Might help if you told me your name”, he points out. “Right. Sorry, I’m an idiot”, the man chuckles. “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.” And of course. With this voice, Zayn should have known. He’s actually surprised he didn’t recognize it right away. “Lou”, he says, his own voice caught in his throat. “It’s me, Zayn.” Or: Zayn and Louis grew up together, but haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Now they're both in their twenties and meet again on a flight from LA to London, with ten hours in front of them to catch up, and maybe start something new.

I'm Asking You Please, Don't Talk Dirty to Me by @larry-hiatus​ / larry_hiatus [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

Prompt #68: Harry’s best friend Louis is a nice, well-mannered omega, at least when it comes to sex talk. He has always been closed off and quiet... until Harry hears how Louis talks during his heat. Now, it's all Harry can think about before his upcoming rut... (Original prompt wording edited for clarity)

making me sweat by honey_beeing [Harry/Louis, E, 9k]

A not-exactly University AU where Harry and Louis meet at an orgy where the both of them don't intend to have sex at.

Twist the Knife by @snowjosh​ / jishler [Harry/Louis, E, 6k]

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

the stars are coming home by @harrystinyshorts​ / lsforever [Harry/Louis, G, 5k]

For years Harry has been waiting for their schedules to click just right. Finding a day where he’ll not only be available but also is the only visitor on the premises has been near impossible.

After three years together and nearly a full year of marriage, Harry has finally been permitted to sit in for one of the team’s practices. They get more than they bargained for.

My True Love Gave to Me by @ponymom-stuff​ / ponymom [Louis/Harry, NR, 5k]

After puzzling over a Christmas gift for Louis, Harry comes to what he believes is the ultimate gift for his true love.

Fistiana by @louandhazaf​ / YesIsAWorld [Zayn/Louis, NR, 2k]

They met in the center of the ring and bumped their bare knuckles together.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hlhome28​ / ThoseFookin_Avacados [Louis/Harry, T, 2k]

strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

"Need help there, love?" "Oh god, yes-" Harry turned around to look at the source of the voice and his heart dropped to his stomach as they caught each other's eyes.

Or on a very lonely valentines day, Harry's car breaks down in an unknown alleyway, where he bumps into a blue-eyed boy who takes him back seven years ago on the same day.

Safe Like Springtime by @beelou​​ / cherrylarry [Louis/Harry, G, 1k]

On the way out of the park, Gabriel gasps suddenly and points across the grassy area. He starts running.

When Harry catches up to Gabe, - that boy runs fast - he's with a man and his dog and Gabe is petting the dog.

"Gabriel James. You know better than to run off like that! Did you ask to pet the dog?" Harry scolds.

"I'm sorry Uncle Harry. I saw a dog and I just wanted to see the fluffy dog! Look how fluffy!" Gabe exclaims.

Harry rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the dog owner. The very attractive dog owner.

Or, the one where Harry takes his nephew to the park and runs into Louis and his Labradoodle Clifford.

best hangover cure by @loulovehome​ [Louis/Harry, E, 1k]

"A wank will miraculously cure your hangover, honey."

Stay Till The A.M. by @flexible-racoon​​ / goneforbooks [Harry/Louis, G, 1k]

It's 23rd July and Louis reminisces.

[andromedasstarship]

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list! 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff 

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

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permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings