#It’s been a rough 24 hours. I’m fine (lying)

[shima-draws]

Told my boss that NO I cannot take over customer phone calls because my anxiety will literally not be able to take it. And I’m being SO brave about it,

[cyclogenesis]

life update, sry for absence, you will literally not believe the breadth and depth of fuckery I have been facing down these last few weeks including the last insane 24 hours

Cannot overstate how obscenely ridiculous things have gotten for me. I thought I felt Seasonal Affective Disorder looming at the turn of September to October but I think now it was just a sense of general foreboding. 

So I’m trying to truck along these last few weeks, sad as hell about my beloved cat, and then for the third time this year I have to find a new psychiatrist. I take Adderall for my ADHD, I have for six+ years, I see telehealth providers for monthly five minute appointments to be like yes I still need Adderall please send the prescription thanks. Walgreens causes a problem too fucking stupid to get into with psych #1 this year, I go out of my way to explicitly confirm this same problem won’t crop up with psych #2. No it’ll be fine he says. He was wrong, because he apparently didn’t know what he was talking about, and instead of looking into it for clarification he just said meaningless words to shut me up. 

The problem crops up again. We try three different pharmacies to try and get around it. Doesn’t work. I have to find a new psychiatrist. Again. Takes weeks. I finally find a place where god willing this dumb issue will not crop up again. I get an appointment for last Friday morning. Yay!!!! I decide to start seeing a new therapist too since one was on offer and I was feeling rough. (Last Thursday I said yes to the appointment. This is when I was already having a hard time.)

I see this new psych. He tells me that he’s going to hold the Adderall prescription hostage until I get an EKG and also a bunch of lab tests done. He watches me visibly wilt like a flower trapped in a bell jar. Fine. I go to Quest Diagnostics like he told me to. I get there at 10:30am and I’m #10 on the standby list. At 12:30pm I’m still #10 on the standby list and the nurse comes out and tells us all basically there’s no chance. I pay $6 for parking and leave having wasted two hours and six dollars. 

Fine. I make an appointment for Tuesday, the soonest I could get. (Great, that won’t already be a stressful day!) I find an urgent care place as suggested for the EKG. It’s a mile and a half away. I walk there. I wait an hour and forty minutes before a nurse comes to take my vitals. Because I didn’t expect to be waiting in the exam room for so long I’d taken my jacket off and then got too lazy to get back up and get it even though the AC had inexplicably kicked on. Because of this, and because anxiety makes my extremities go numb, my hands were so cold she had to take multiple pulse oximeter readings. “I’m a vampire,” I joked. “I’m actually dating a vampire,” the nurse said. She explained her boyfriend is Bela Lugosi’s grandson. Los Angeles: lmao. From outside as my eventual results are shared with the doctor I hear, “How is she awake??” 

I put my jacket back on as I wait for the doctor. I lie down. I stick my hands in my pockets. I try to think relaxing thoughts, going to my happy place: earlier this year, the beach at Cannes, walking ankle deep in the Mediterranean. I run through entire Sarah McLachlan songs in my head. By the time the doctor comes in for the EKG I’m feeling very chill. 

Too chill. The doctor has a ridiculously hard time getting a good reading. I’m lying there in an open front paper gown, topless, hooked up to this machine with wires coming off me like a desktop computer running Windows 96. She keeps having to move the little sticker things. We’ve been having a good time since she had to pull out the footrests and keep pulling. “I’m 5’11,” I told her. “I was always mad I didn’t hit six feet.”

“You should just lie,” she said, “How would they know?” I love her. Going forward I will lie. Doctor’s orders! 

I joke that given my previous case of corpse fingers with the pulse oximeter that I’m just a ghost and that’s the issue. She points out that it’s the Day of the Dead. I tell her I tried to haunt my family but their shrines sucked and nobody did the cool skull makeup so I decided to come fuck with some doctors. She laughs. I laugh. We continue to joke around. I love it. All I ever want to do is make people laugh. 

On the third try she finally gets a decent EKG reading though she’s iffy that she may need to do a fourth. Nope, this one is fine. I get to leave. I arrange to have the results faxed to my new psych. “Wait, is my heart okay? Haha,” I say to the receptionist. She passes me a copy of the results and tells me to talk to my doctor. 

It’s all fun and games until I’m walking out at 7:10pm on a Friday night into the cold dark evening with a 1.5 mile walk in front of me and abnormal EKG results that say “possible left atrial enlargement” and “abnormal right axis deviation” and “incomplete right bundle branch block” and “consistent with pulmonary disease”.

Oh. Um. Well. Okay. 

Googling all this leads to results that are scary and not in the “I googled my hangnail and WebMD says I have fingernail cancer” way, more in the there’s actually only so many things all of this together can mean and also the words “consistent with pulmonary disease” are in fact right there in black ink sort of way. Lots of stuff about the very increased likelihood of heart attacks. You hate to see that!!!!

In retrospect maybe it has been weird that I’ve been so aware of my heartbeat all the time lately. Maybe it hasn’t just been caffeine and stress. Well, I’ll call my GP first thing Monday and beg for an appointment ASAP, obviously. In the meantime I’ll try not to freak out. I’ll try to avoid additional stress. 

But, you know, I’ve been meaning to call my grandmother anyway. I still haven’t told her about Klaus. Our relationship has been shaky these last few years since I became estranged from my parents in 2021 after they went QAnon and decided that believing Facebook memes was more important than their relationship with their only child (me!!) and she got mad at me for standing up to them ever. Also she was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in July so that’s been rough. But I figure she should be in the loop. 

I get ahold of her last night. I tell her there’s stuff going on with me, but she should tell me what’s up with her first. I await news of who triumphed in this week’s game of Yahtzee with her cousin and whether or not the Warriors or whatever sports team she’s keeping up with right now are winning. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell you because I know you don’t really care what’s going on with them, but your mom’s moved in with me because your parents are getting a divorce,” she says. 

First I explain, again, as she knows, because she was there, that they are the ones that rejected me. I remind her that my mom got in touch last Thanksgiving saying she missed me and wanted to see me and that I said I felt the same, we just needed to have a serious talk first. I remind her that my mom completely fucking ghosted me after that and has not tried to get in touch since. Even unfriended me on Facebook. Been almost a year now. My parents’ entire relationship with me is less important than their unwillingness to have even one single solitary fucking grown-up conversation. This is a fact. 

And then I’m like, also what???????????????

So apparently my dad (stepdad actually, but he married my mom when I was seven and he’s the only person I’ve ever called Dad) told my mom they should move back to the Central Valley. He said they should sell their house in Sacramento and she should quit her job up there and try to find a new one in Fresno. They sell their house and use the extra to pay off debts, because they are morons who have always lived paycheck to paycheck no matter how big or small those paychecks are. 

Mom asks Grammy if she can move in with her in Fresno while she looks for a new job. Grammy says no. Mom moves in her friend Diane, who was widowed after her idiot MAGA antivaxxer husband got Covid (which he didn’t believe in) and ended up getting an entire lung transplant and then dying anyway. Mom gets a job in Fresno but she doesn’t like it so she quits. 

My stepdad meanwhile has a one bedroom apartment in Sacramento and is still working at his job up there. He puts a bunch of their stuff in storage in Fresno in anticipation of the move. My mom goes up to visit and they celebrate their 34th wedding anniversary. Everything’s fine. 

A week later he calls and says he’s divorcing her. She can keep all the stuff that’s in storage in Fresno. This apparently comes out of nowhere, though not for him I guess (lol?). 

Diane’s landlord finds out my mom’s living there and threatens to evict them due to the unauthorized tenant. Mom has to move in with Grammy. 

And that’s what you missed on Glee!!!!!!!!!

With that out of the way, I tell Grammy my cat died and also I likely have some kind of lung disease and my heart’s maybe fucked. I tell her luckily lol I’m starting therapy again and she says she doesn’t understand that and that she gets depressed sometimes and then she gets over it. She tells me I should get a job because she knows I don’t make enough from my shop. I explain that I’m trying to avoid stress right now because it could very literally give me an actual genuine fucking heart attack. She continues to be a dick because instead of using any of her 85 years of life on this planet to try to become emotionally healthy she has chosen again and again to just lash out when she’s upset and never grow as a person in any capacity whatsoever. I am grateful again that I’m able to take her and my parents as examples of what I don’t want to be. I am far more patient with her than she deserves and we part on decent terms. 

I immediately proceed to storytime this bitch out with the besties. Everyone’s like “What?????” and I’m like “I know!!!!!”

The funniest part is that the parental estrangement was due largely to my mom just fully choosing my stepdad over me, her only child. Which like wasn’t even a surprise really, as she had told me once in a childish and unexpected outburst of anger that she didn’t have a choice but to have me. (Sure she did. She just buried her head in the sand until it was too late.) So it made sense that it would be my stepdad. He was the one she felt she got to choose. Also, she is an asshole.

Hope she feels great now about making that call, lmao!!! How’d that one work out queen?? No husband, no daughter, 62 years old moved back in with your mom who didn’t even want you there, huh? Yikes!!

So anyway, my GP’s office opens in twenty minutes, please cross your fingers for me that I’ll be able to schedule an appointment sometime before my heart bursts out of my chest like the alien in Alien and then dons a tophat and tapdances away from this clusterfuck, an action for which I would not blame it tbh. (Edit: They don't have any appointments until April [what?!] but they have walk-in hours thrice a week. I will get there at 10am Wednesday morning and hopefully they will see me.) New therapist appointment is at 12:30pm, best of luck to her with this goddamned Pandora’s box of bullshit that I’m about to unleash on her. 

Gonna try to relax in the meantime as I am at this moment very aware of the consistent thumping of the tell-tale thing inside my chest. Wish me luck!

[erimeows]

Icarus

Hawks is in love with Best Jeanist.

Admittedly, it’s an awkward sort of love that he feels like isn’t proper. Best Jeanist is a hero just like him, who is constantly in danger just like him, and who is under a lot of stress just like him. Yet, having been working with him to subdue Nomus and infiltrate the Paranormal Liberation Front for the past few months… Hawks has developed feelings that he can’t get rid of. He does, however, choose to ignore them, not wanting to risk any more rejection than he’s already faced in his lifetime.

After the raid, he ends up in the hospital with third degree burns on his back. His wings are a fragment of what they used to be, crumpled little red feathers that aren’t useful for anything scattered around scarred and raw pink skin that needs to have ointment applied onto it every few hours. One of his arms is broken and stuck in a sling, and he’s still hooked up to an IV to be pumped full of fluids and pain meds. 

He didn’t expect anyone to visit. He fully expected to stay in the hospital by himself, recover, and go back out to the public all laughs and smiles like he normally would after a rough assignment. This time, however, there’s one man who won’t leave his hospital room…

“Hawks… You all managed to retrieve and revive me,” Best Jeanist speaks, sitting in a chair by Hawks’s hospital bed and facing the younger hero, who’s wrapped head to toe in bandages. “But at what cost…”

“Heh,” Hawks offers the best chuckle he can muster, trying to pretend that this isn’t as severe as he is. He doesn’t know if his wings will ever grow back and some of the injuries he sustained from Dabi will surely affect him for the rest of his life. Worst of all, he knows that the second he’s discharged from the hospital, they’re probably going to do it all over again. “Don’t worry about it, Jeanist. You’re the one who did me a favor in the first place by agreeing to go through with this.”

“I did you no favors here,” Jeanist says, almost as if him agreeing to be ‘killed’ by Hawks and given to Dabi was no big deal. Hawks still can’t believe the older man went through with something so risky- he himself would never trust anyone like that- not Jeanist, not Endeavor, not anyone. After the fact, Jeanist has been in Hawks’s hospital room 24/7, helping him get around, spoon feeding him the few things he’s allowed to eat, putting his burn ointment on and changing his bandages, bringing flowers, and watching Hawks’s favorite shows with him on the cheap hospital television that hangs on the wall. The fact that Jeanist has been here at all is surprising, but for him to have gone so above and beyond… Hawks is unable to fathom it. “You look… Unwound.”

“I’m a little ruffled, sure, but I’m fine,” Hawks tries to brush off his friend- comrade- whatever they are-’s concern, but it doesn’t work.

“Stop it,” Jeanist hisses with a sharp glare. “Stop lying to me.”

“Huh?”

“We’re not at a press conference, nor are we in front of the media right now,” Jeanist scolds. “Be honest with yourself and with me; you’re suffering.”

The fake smile that Hawks plastered on moments before falls. He stares down into his lap, unable to meet Jeanist’s intense stare. He offers a weak shrug with the arm that isn’t dislocated, broken, and stuck in a sling.

“My wings will grow back.”

“But that doesn’t matter if you keep getting them burned off,” Jeanist softly argues and reaches out to place a hand between Hawks’s wings, so gently that Hawks barely feels it. 

Hawks shudders. 

“Why do you care, anyway?”

“You’re my comrade,” Jeanist answers. It’s clear that there’s something else hiding behind that answer, and that’s when it clicks for Hawks. While his feelings have been there for months, Jeanist has either felt the same way the entire time or started to recently. Why else would he be here doing this? “A fellow hero… A friend. As a fellow pro hero, I hate to see you unraveling like this.”

“Is that all?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think just ‘friends’ would do what we do,” Hawks bluntly answers before he can think better of it.

“Then who does do what we do?” Jeanist retorts.

Underneath Jeanist’s scrutinizing stare, Hawks suddenly shrivels up. He regrets bringing anything up in the first place.

“Ah… This got a little serious, didn’t it? That’s my bad,” Hawks nervously laughs. “We shouldn’t be stressing ourselves out right now, you know? Let’s change the subject.”

“Let’s not,” Jeanist insists. “You decided to bring this up, so let’s have a discussion. Tell me what’s on your mind. Now.”

“Fine. Let’s drop the act,” Hawks acquiesces, but is sure to choose his words carefully so he can gauge Jeanist’s feelings without revealing his own right off the bat. “A friend wouldn’t just allow me to put them into a death state no matter what good it could’ve done for society, and a friend wouldn’t be coming to rub burn ointment on me or to put fresh cut flowers in my room. Tsunagu, you…”

“Yes, it’s true,” Jeanist nods, knowing what Hawks was getting at. The hand on Hawks’s back moves to hold one of Hawks’s hands. “And as someone who loves you dearly, I refuse to let you continue down the path you’ve been walking. Accept the help that other heroes offer to you. What were you thinking, going and handling Jin Bubaigawara by yourself when you know damn well that the rest of the former league was always close to him? You should’ve asked for back up. Touya Todoroki’s quirk-”

“I know about his quirk, Tsunagu,” Hawks interjects, shivering at the memory; Dabi breaking his arm, standing on top of him, charring is wings to nothing- poor Tokoyami having to come and rescue him- the hospital treatments, the surgeries he had to have to reverse some of the severe injuries he sustained from Dabi’s flames. “Trust me… I know. If I didn’t before, I certainly did now.”

“I’m not going to trust you to go off by yourself for a long time after this… Look at you.”

“Do I really look that bad?”

“No,” Jeanist answers with a shake of his head. “But you look broken.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Hawks huffs with a roll of his golden eyes.

“I’m going to take it you don’t reciprocate. I’ll get out of your hair,” Jeanist starts to stand up, only for Hawks to grab him by the wrist and yank him back down into his chair.

“Stop,” Hawks whispers. “Look, I’m sorry about how I’ve acted today- and in general. I know I’ve been worrying you and that I’ve been more distant than I should be, but… I do feel the same way, you know. I just can’t help but try to take everything on by myself. I’ve lived my entire life that way, and usually, when people offer help, it’s not because they have good intentions. So, I don’t know exactly how to respond to…”

“Respond to what?”

“To someone genuinely caring this much about me.”

“Well,” The blond sighs and stands up from his bedside chair. When he reaches for Hawks, the younger man flinches, only to find that he’s been enveloped in a tight, loving hug. He blinks in surprise and tenses under the unexpected touch. “You’ll just have to get used to it from now on.”

“Yeah,” Hawks sighs and allows his eyes to flutter shut. They have a lot to worry about and a lot to do, but for now, he chooses to focus on the feeling of Jeanist’s warm arms wrapped around him, holding him close and comforting him in a way he’s never experienced before. “I guess I will.”

[fieldsofview]

A little snippet between Gwen and Peter from the rough draft of ch 10 of "Spider-Man: Homesickness"

These two are just so cute and I love them being besties so I wanted to share! Technically spoilers if you want to avoid it.

~

She bumps her shoulder into his. “You need to calm down. You have nothing to worry about. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m going to say or do the wrong thing, again, and it’s going to make everything a thousand times worse than it already is. What if, now that I’ve talked to you, I can’t keep it all straight? What if I say something?”

“You’ve been, well, not good at lying, but you’ve been managing for years. You’ll be fine.”

“I haven’t slept in like 36 hours, I haven’t eaten in over 24, and my body looks and feels like it was pressed through a pasta maker. I think I’m a little off my A-game.”

Gwen looks at him, alarmed. “What do you mean you haven’t slept or eaten?”

“I was a little busy panicking and feeling guilty to think about self-care, okay?”

“Self-care? Self-care!?” Her voice sheeks. “What part of the basic needs of survival do you think constitute self-care?”

“I don’t know, all of them. Look, when the needs of the universe trump your own, you kind of forget these things, okay? I was going to get to it at some point.”

“Unbelievable! You really are a bigger mess than I thought. You would think that a superhero wou-”

He slaps a hand over her mouth. “Ix-nay on that particular language here.”

She licks his hand and he yanks it off of her, wiping on his jeans. Looking smug, she says, “Oh, but you can say that your body went through a pasta maker?”

“It’s different. I-” He lets out a heavy huff. “Look, let’s agree that if you make sure I don’t say anything stupid, then I’ll make sure you don’t say anything stupid, yeah? Because I think we both could use the help.”

[nightwishesworld]

hello! do you think you could do a chapter with fem!reader whose afraid of thunderstorms and wakes up in the middle of the night because of it but doesn’t wanna wake alcina so she just stays awake but the storm goes on for like a week and this keeps happening until she notices and comforts you through it by like cuddles or talking you to sleep to distract you from it :)

Oh my god I hate the way this came out. My brain just could not process this for some reason. I also couldn't make it as long as a week, my apologies.

**************

One dark evening at Castle Dimitrescu a storm rolled in. Relatively speaking, it was quite harmless and most of the inhabitants of the castle were unbothered by the storm.

Except you.

Late into the evening, whilst most were asleep, the storm was at its strongest - the crackle of thunder rolling through the halls as flashes of lightning illuminated the darkest corners of the room. You were trying to sleep, honest, but just as you felt the drowsiness of rest come to take you - a loud crack of thunder would jolt you awake and paralyze you with fear.

You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing rapid.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and hugged your pillow close to your chest. Resisting the urge to run and hide in the closet like you used to do as a kid was becoming more and more difficult.

Another flash, another boom.

You knew it wasn’t logical, but you couldn’t stop yourself from flinching or jumping as the sounds of the storm roared outside. It was just so loud and you could swear the castle was shaking with it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, white-knuckling the pillow held tight against your chest and humming a song to yourself in order to distract your brain.

The sound of constant rain was suddenly accompanied by heavy hail falling, and that’s when the thoughts started charging at you full force.

What if the lightning strikes the castle? What if the castle collapsed? Did it have the right infrastructure? What if-

“Stop it, God. Stop it!” You begged your brain but to no avail. Your mind kept generously providing you with possibilities and images you did not ask for.

Another loud boom and this time you couldn’t help the cry let out before clapping a hand over your mouth and diving under the blankets.

When you didn’t hear anything for a few minutes you felt it safe enough to come out of hiding. Thankfully the vampire slumbering next to you wasn’t disturbed by your pathetic cries and whimpers. She had a rough day dealing with a very pissed off Mother Miranda and needed rest and relaxation as much as she could possibly get.

You forced yourself to lay still on your back and focus all your energy on controlling your breathing. That was the key to saving yourself a panic attack. You don’t know how long you were staring up at the ceiling, but dawn eventually came and your partner stirred from her sleep.

She would have been happy to see you if not for the redness in your eyes and puffiness surrounding them, obvious signs of lack of sleep.

“Are you alright, draga mea?” She wrapped her arms around your midsection and rested her head on your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

You didn’t answer, even though you knew Alcina wouldn’t just drop the question. She was sweet and caring like that, which is probably why you never had the heart to tell her how much of a coward you actually are.

“You didn’t sleep very well, did you?”

“Nightmares,” you rasped, trying to focus on Alcina more than the low rumbling outside. “I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee.”

She looked as though she didn’t accept that answer but quickly hid any doubts behind a warm smile. “If you’re sure.”

It felt wrong lying to her. You had never felt the need to hide anything from Alcina before, but this was just embarrassing. She’d probably laugh at you told her you were still afraid of thunderstorms.

The day progressed with relative normalcy despite the occasional sounds of rumbling. Alcina busied herself dealing with the mountain of paperwork on her desk for Mother Miranda and the girls were running amuck in the basement. Depending on which room you were in you could hear their laughter below you. Their mischief down there has always been a mystery to you, even now after living in the castle a couple of years. You knew what they were doing, but couldn't fathom the idea of enjoying it so much. You did find it rather disturbing that their torturing frightened you less than a stupid thunderstorm.

You huddled in the back section of the library behind the bookshelves so you couldn’t see the lightning out the windows. The loud rumbling still had you on edge, but a good book is always a welcome distraction. It worked so well, that you didn't hear Daniela approaching. You practically jumped three feet in the air when she was stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong with you?” Daniela asked, her voice was stern, but it also had a concerning tone to it. She had dropped her bag, keeping the knife at her side. Your breathing was heavier than usual as you tried to think of what to say. It was more than embarrassing to tell Daniela the truth. You knew for a fact she out of everyone in the castle would laugh at you. "You scared me,"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dummy, I mean what's really wrong?"

You shrug and turn the page of your book. “Nothing.”

Another boom. You couldn’t fight off flinched.

“Oh, I think I get it. You’re afraid of-”

“Don’t tell anyone.” You clenched your fists, shutting your eyes tightly. Daniela wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. You watched as she cautiously sat back down. The redhead sat in front of you, the rain somehow sounding even louder than it had before. You looked over at Daniela, feeling the embarrassment creep upon you.

Daniela started at you with a rather confused expression, resting her arms on her knees. “Out of everything we’ve been through,” she began, “everything you’ve seen us do. Everything that goes on in this castle just below your feet,” she paused. “And you’re scared of thunder?”

You sat silently and twiddled your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you whisper. “It’s not important. You’re only going to run off and tell everyone.”

Daniela rolled her eyes and picked up her bag, headed once again for the basement. “Whatever, y/n, have it your way.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening shuffling around the library hiding from the white flashes. It was only when Daniela came to fetch you for dinner that you left. Luckily you were eating in the kitchen instead of the larger Dining Hall. The kitchen is much more manageable; marginally fewer windows to see the lightning. The meal carried on as it normally would; the girls boasted about their successes in the basement, Alcina discusses all the work she got done today and complains about the work she put off for tomorrow. It was almost enough to take your mind off the chaos happening just outside the windows. Almost.

The storm carried on just as confidently throughout the evening and into the night. It showed no signs of relenting, which in turn meant another sleepless night.

You wasted no time stripping your clothes and crawling into bed, back to the open windows. Alcina didn’t think much of it, simply chalking it up to being exhausted from the previous night’s lack of sleep. She wasn’t completely wrong, you did feel like you were ready to sleep for the next 24 hours. But you knew the storm wouldn’t allow you that luxury.

Pressure against your back and an arm wrapping around your midsection snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I hope you sleep tonight, my love.”

“Me too.”

An hour later and you were still wide awake listening to the rain being pelted against the windows. An anxious voice whispered impossible scenarios of the rain breaking through the windows and lightning striking you down in the safety of your bed. You tried your hardest to not toss and turn as to not disturb the woman next to you. She's not asleep yet, you can tell by the lack of snoring, but her breathing is starting to even out. You were curled up on your side, back to Alcina. She wrapped you in her arms, her chest against your back and arm across your waist. "Dove..." she whispered in your ear. "Y/n... "

"I'm sleeping, Al." You murmured snuggling further into the vampire’s arms, your eyes still closed.

"No, you're not." She stroked your side absently. “Are you sure you’re ok? You aren’t falling ill are you?”

You sigh. “No, I’m not getting sick. My body is just too exhausted to relax.”

Alcina hummed, burrowing her face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll stay up with you for a while.”

“You will not. Go to sleep Al, I’ll be fine. You had a long day yourself, one of us should be able to sleep."

"Why don't we go sit in the Drawing Room or the Library? I'll hold you in my lap and read to you." God no. Way too many windows. "Goodnight, Alcina." You feel her sigh against your skin, pushing a few stray hairs around. "Can I do anything?" "Stop worrying, it's just insomnia." "I'll stay up with you then. You shouldn't be up all by yourself staring at the ceiling." "I'm not alone, Love, you're right here with me. Asleep or not I'm still in your arms, and that helps a lot." You feel her smile against your neck and pull you closer against her front. "wake me if you need anything."

You actually slept fairly well; only waking up a few times to have Alcina soothe you back to sleep. Being tucked away in her embrace did a world of help, but you still woke up hours before Alcina did. Her eyes fluttered open and focus on your groggy face. She frowns.

"Did you sleep at all?"

You smile and kiss her lips. "Yes, I actually slept a lot better last night than before."

"Good," she pulls you back to kiss you again.

*******************************************************************************************

Later in the afternoon Bela and Cassandra invited (dragged you really) into the Drawing Room to play a game of cards.

Everything was going really well. You were laughing and playing with the girls like everything was as it should be in Castle Dimitrescu.

You were made astutely aware of the situation outside again when a loud crack of thunder shook the castle. There was another flash and clap of thunder, this time loud enough to make Cassandra flinch.

You abruptly shot up from the table. “Sorry. I need a minute.” You rushed down the hall into one of the guest rooms. Cassandra and Bela shared a confused glance and watched as you hurried away. They’d never seen you so flighty and nervous before. Neither could tell what was wrong.

They laid on the carpet and silently counted to sixty before following you to down the corridor.

“Y/n?” Bela softly knocked on the door. “It’s been a minute.”

There was no response. More thunder. Bela frowned. “We’re coming in, okay?”

She opened the door a crack and poked her head inside. You were nowhere to be seen. “Y/n?” Cassandra called, stepping further inside and glancing around the room. The sisters checked under the bed, then under the covers, even under the shade of the bedside lamp. Then Bela peered out of the rain-soaked window for good measure. Where else could you be?

Just as Cassandra decided she was stumped, she heard a rustling from behind her and a muffled, “I’m in here.” She turned around in confusion because the only place they hadn’t checked in that direction was…

They crept over to the closet and carefully slid open the door. The girls smiled when they found you sitting on the ground, curled up with your head between your knees. “Playing hide and seek now, are we?” Bela said. “Next round I call being the— um, y/n?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, staying right where you were. “Sorry.”

“S-Sorry for what…?” Cassandra crouched down beside you. The closet almost had enough space for the three of you to fit.

“Y/n, please. Something’s obviously bothering you, can’t you tell us?”

All three of you startled as another flash of lightning cut into the room, followed by another growl of thunder. You tightened your grip around your legs. Bela’s jaw dropped.

“It’s the storm,” she said, half a question, half a statement. “You’re scared of thunder?”

“It’s childish.”

“Oh, y/n…”

“I’m weak. Something as dumb and simple as loud noises shouldn’t make me so—”

“Y/n. Look at me.” Cassandra’s gently stern tone convinced you to move your head so your chin rested on your knees. You side-eyed the girls, trying to imitate your usual stoicism. It was difficult with red-rimmed eyes.

“A phobia doesn’t make you childish, or weak— do you know how many people have a fear of thunder, y/n? A lot of humans.”

“A lot of Uncle Heisenberg’s lycans as well,” Bela chimed in.

“And are you going to go around insulting them? No, Y/n, because that’s not nice. So don’t insult yourself for the same thing.” Cassandra waved around her index finger as she spoke. Your eyes widened and followed the movement. Both girls laughed.

“Is that what’s been giving you nightmares?”

You shake your head. “I just haven’t been sleeping; too tense.”

Cassandra giggled. “Just ask mother for extra cuddles, not like she’ll say no.”

“Or a more intimate distraction,” Bela winked.

Both sisters giggle at the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Can we sit here with you?” Bela asked, already taking the vacant spot on your right.

You shrugged— as much as you could in this balled-up position. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s ok y/n, we don’t mind.”

They sat on either side of you, Bela holding your hand, enjoying the comfortable silence that cast over you.

*******************************************************************************************

A loud crack of thunder jolted Alcina awake. Cursing to herself she eyed the clock across the room–2:06 am. Raking a hand down her face, she jolted again when another crack of thunder echoed through the castle. It wasn’t a minute later that an insistent downpour of rain started pelting the roof and windows followed by an angry howling of the wind. You stirred next to her in the bed. You were mumbling in what sounded like a mix of Romanian and English. Alcina swallowed thickly because she knew what that meant; another night terror. She laid back down and curled herself against you, cocooning herself against your back. Alcina placed a few stray kisses on your shoulders and the nape of your neck, smoothing her hands along your hipbone in the process. You calmed after a few minutes, your mumbling returning to the steadying breaths of deep sleep. Alcina sighed in relief and closed her eyes in hopes that she could drift back to sleep.

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Alcina sat up on the bed and saw you still appeared to be sleeping, though you looked somewhat agitated. She reached over and attempted to run her fingers through your hair but all that succeeded in doing was causing you to jolt awake.

You woke up with a strangled yell and starting crawling out from underneath the sheets. You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing and heart rate rapid. Alcina crawled over and realized you were having a panic attack. “Y/n, can you hear me?” You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as tears started leaking from the corners. You clamped a hand over your mouth, and Alcina realized you were trying to silence your breathing. “Honey no, don’t do that, just focus on me,” she pulled your hand away from your mouth slowly. You shook your head and tried to take your hand back. “No no no... I can’t- I-I-I can’t wake Al-Alcina,” you gasped. “It’s alright, Dove, just follow my breathing.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths to demonstrate. You started calming down slightly. “That’s it, everything is alright, just keep breathing.” You seemed to calm down more with the breathing exercises. “I’m going to get you a glass of water“ Alcina started to say, but was cut off by you grabbing her arm. “No! Don’t-don’t lea- don’t leave, please, don’t- don’t” you closed her eyes, her breath quickening again. “Sweetheart, breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Alcina took your hand and put it on her chest. “Breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Your breathing returned to normal. After sitting in silence for a bit, Alcina turned to her.

“Another night terror?” She asked. You looked away for a minute, ashamed of yourself.

“No.”

God, you probably woke her up, good job.

Alcina couldn’t keep an amused smile from forming. “Can my little dove not sleep because of the thunderstorm?”

As if on cue, a blinding bolt of lightning crackled down from the sky. The following rumble of thunder seemed to shake the castle. You let out a whimper and shielded yourself from the sky. “How could I possibly sleep when it sounds like the sky is falling?!”

Alcina hums and pulls you close against her. “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy fear, Dove. It brings out the human in you.”

“UGH! Just-!”

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Another shriek, barely muffled by Alcina’s shoulder, had you violently trembling. You were barely holding yourself together.

Wracked with terror, eyes shut tightly, you found yourself unable to prevent the reflexive compulsion to cling to something nearby.

Which, in this case, was Alcina, who was left staring in shocked silence at the violently trembling form with arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. She immediately wrapped her arms around you again and began rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Calm down. You’re fine,” She spoke softly, ignoring the buzz under her skin as she soaked in the unwitting embrace like a dry sponge in water. Soothingly, she rubbed up to your shoulder blades. “There we are, my love,” Alcina chuckled. “I’ve got you. Listen to my voice,” She rumbled, speaking soft but firm as the thunder forced smaller tremors through the floor. “You’re going to relax. I’m going to help you. Just lay here with me and close your eyes. I’ll hold you all night if you want me to.”

Gradually, the sound faded and petered off back into the loud patter of rain against the windows but Alcina held you tightly still. She could feel the flutter of your heartbeat against her own, almost impressed that you hadn’t passed out from fear alone.

“Why didn’t you say anything? The storm’s been going on for days now you must have been petrified.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” you mumbled into her neck. “It’s a pathetic fear I’ve had since I was a kid. I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“You think something as trivial as a phobia would make me think less of you?” She pulled you even tighter against her. You melted into her embrace. “Clearly I haven’t been a very good partner to you.”

“No Al, it’s not like that. Gods, you’re an amazing partner. It’s just my stupid insecurities. You’re all so fearless and brave. You’re not afraid of anything, and then there’s me; tiny, inferior, afraid of a little thunderstorm.”

She sighed and continued rubbing circles on your back. “I’m not fearless.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff. “What could the great and powerful Alcina Dimitrescu possibly be afraid of?”

“Death.”

You wriggled out of her arms just enough to turn and face her. “What? But, you’re immortal. Death isn’t really something you have to worry about.”

She gave a small smile and brought a hand to cup your face. “I never said my death, sweet one.”

Oh...OH

“The girls are clever, they can get themselves out of most situations unscathed, but still, we can be slain. And there have been some pretty close calls in the past. And you,” she rubbed gentle circles on your cheek. “Your death is inevitable. It gnaws at the back of my mind every time I look at you. Every time morning I have to untangle myself from your embrace I remember that one day I’ll wake up alone and wish I cuddled with you for just a bit longer."

"Al, I didn't-"

"I can't always be there to protect you, including the girls. If I could take the brunt of all conflict for you I would gladly do so, but that's unfortunately not how life works. I'm just left worrying until I know for sure you're all safe."

She hummed into your neck and kissed your pulse point. "How selfish of me, I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around. If I paid more attention I would have known, I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t apologize, just hold me.”

Alcina kissed the top of your head. “With pleasure.”

Soon enough you did fall asleep again, your arms still clinging tight around the vampire’s upper midsection. Alcina found a comfortable enough position and allowed herself to drift away as well.

[cinnamonest]

i wanted to share this daydream i had, sorry this is so long. i remember that one ask you got about razor with a male darling and he keeps trying to breed them but it doesn't work and his little dumbass (affectionate) brain just can't comprehend that darling can't get pregnant and it caused this. darling looks like a female, they're all weak and soft so they have to be obviously. darling, tired of being railed almost 24/7 and tired of razor not getting they can't get pregnant (1/11)

manages to convince razor "hey what if we go to the human city so i see a human doctor so they can figure out the issue" and eventually razor begrudgingly gives in because he and his wolf family don't really know how human bodies work exactly and if they go to the city this once and get this issue fixed then he can have puppies with them so it seems worth it as a long term investment. anyways they go to monstadt, and get to meet albedo, probably through telling anyone who asks that they (2/11) need medication or a contraceptive solution or smth and the fact that they've been railed and are just covered in bite marks and then they spot the wolf boy clinging to their back just reaffirms that so they let them through out of concern. when they get to albedo's lab he's half paying attention when darling explains the situation and shrugs them off, mildly annoyed that the guards let someone in, but then razor asks if albedo can "fix" his darling and he perks up because he sees (3/11) that as an opportunity to get to experiment on a live human. sends the darling off to the bathroom or something and tells them to shower for the first time in weeks and gives them a medical gown or something, lying to them that he's going to explain to razor why they can't have kids because they're a dude and that he's going to put on a whole theatrical thing to get him to finally believe them. it's just awkward silence until darling gets back as albedo mixes together some stuff and when (4/11) he hands them a beaker and tells them to drink the stuff inside. it looks a bit dubious but it's not like it looks violently evil and they kinda trust albedo because "he's a human too so he has to sympathize with me somewhat" so they drink it and then double over in pain and black out. razor starts freaking out but he assures him the darling will be fine and that as a favor for "fixing" them all razor has to do is fuck once in front of him so he can record some data on the effects (5/11) which he would be fine with normally but he's pissed because albedo just hurt his darling, they're on the floor knocked the fuck out, so albedo ends up sedating him and injecting him with aphrodisiacs and then tosses the two of them into a cage together. when darling wakes up, they're confused and notice they're trapped and try to get out, screaming and stuff, which then wakes up razor who is now horny as fuck. he pins them down while they scream for albedo to help them but he sits there (6/11) with his notepad all smug and just starts writing down notes as razor tears darling's clothes off and then it hits them. they're getting turned on from how rough razor is being, maybe a little from being watched too, but they have a pussy now. razor, somehow more mindless than usual, doesn't even notice and just fucks them in the ass like he normally does which angers albedo a little so he intervenes and pins razor's neck against the cage floor while he removes his dick while razor is (7/11) still thrashing. it takes a bit but eventually razor manages to actually get his dick into the darling's cunt and the darling just freaks out because it's an entirely new sensation and they're screaming out, mix of pain and pleasure at this point because they also just lost their virginity in the front and definitely not in a gentle way and with no preparation. albedo's pissed because this has been a rather big nuisance, more than he expected, so he decides to just fuck their mouth (8/11) since razor is too preoccupied fucking their cunt to hell and back to actually notice that his darling isn't paying attention to him and him alone. also probably not even lucid enough to notice, he's just preoccupied with biting their shoulder and thrusting into them until his body stops feeling so hot. so yeah darling getting fucked in a cage with razor going to town on their new lady parts while albedo just face fucks them out of anger to release frustration. once razor is finally (9/?) tired and passes out, darling probably passed out half a dozen rounds ago from a combination of overstimulation, pain, and lack of air because of a certain alchemist's dick being jammed down their throat while they tried to scream. probably just shoves them in a box and discreetly dumps them at the edge of wolvendom in some bushes and goes back to being kinda pretentious, marking the solution to change gender as working though he's too annoyed with the subjects to continue (10/11) ... so it turns out tumblr has an ask limit per hour and you can't check exactly what you sent once you try to send it if it refuses, so uh... sorry about the ask spam, and sorry about that xD i'm sure you can probably imagine what happened after tho >:3 ----------------------------------------

No anon don't apologize this is quality nutritious food!!

But also consider: bb still does not understand. Poor thing. You have two holes now? Okay, so that means he has to fill up BOTH of them to get you pregnant! It'll be difficult to fill you up with that much cum, but he'll do his best 😤

[skellebonez]

He's Been Hurt Enough (Monkie Kid Cursed AU Fanfic)

And here it is, the follow up to Stop Lying To Me! This went through an overall minor rewrite after @winterpower98 posted some more Cursed AU art and I think it turned out much better for it.

Quick note: once again this is my interpretation of a possible way the revelation could go. I decided to go with a “Mac told Sun everything while MK was transformed last time and that’s part of why he got the stuffing beat out of him and was out of commission last fic” angle. (also no I definitely did not accidently post a draft of the summary by itself when I meant to queue this, that totally did not happen(that happened))

Summary: Wukong has questions, Macaque surprisingly has answers, and MK... well, MK is going to be just fine if Macaque has anything to say about it.

Warnings: mild descriptions of healing inuries from the last fic, hint of child neglect if you are familiar with the AU, Macaque is sightly (incredibly) out of it due to medicine

----------

The first thing Macaque noticed when he came to was that his head felt... wobbly, despite the fact he was clearly laying down and not moving. The second thing he noticed was a disgustingly bitter sweet taste sticking to his tongue. The third thing he noticed was that he laying chest down on a (very small and familiar smelling) pile of clothes. The fourth thing, oh it was a lot of things coming very slowly right after the other which was odd, was that he was completely shirtless and that the only reason he noticed this so slowly was half of his body was almost fascinatingly numb, outside of the warmth of the fire that seemed to be burning in front of him. The last thing he noticed was a very close, also very familiar, and very angry (worried?) looking face of a monkey right in front of his (coincidentally blocking most of that fire light).

"Congratulations," Wukong said flatly. "You are officially not dead."

Macaque stared at the other monkey for a moment before attempting to speak, coughing as the dryness of his throat hit him full force. Before he could move himself, Wukong grabbed his face (gently, more gently than he remembered being touched by the other in so long) and held something to his lips. When he tilted the object and water began to hit his lips he opened his mouth and drank, Wukong never allowing the water to flow from the canteen fast enough to risk him choking on it. It must have been emptied after a short while because the Monkey King took it away faster than Macaque would have liked, but it had been more than enough to quench his thirst and allow him to clear his throat and begin talking. "What... happened?"

The angry (worryied?) look on the other's face deepened. "Should I start when I woke up to you bleeding out over my sucessor? Or should I start when I tried to give you medicine the first time you woke up and you shoved the entire thing in your mouth?"

Well. That second bit explained part of the numbness. And the taste. And possibly why his head felt like it was swimming in that iced cream stuff MK liked so much. He was almost certainly, no definitely, very out of it from whatever Wukong had intended to use to dull his pain. Fantastic.

Instead of voicing all of this he simply said "The... first part?" His voice was rough, but firmer than it had been the first time. He had not realized how almost slurred his words has originally sounded. Wukong' expression softened and. Oh... OH, it was a worried look after all. Huh. Macaque did not expect that. That was... well, not new. But he hadn't seen that in a long time. He... missed that. He didn't realize he had missed that.

"I woke up and I smelled... blood," Wukong started softly. "I was confused, I thought that maybe I hadn't been out for very long after we calmed down MK and you hadn't treated my wounds yet but," his hand went to his side where the bandages Macaque and the kid had carefully applied still held tight. "When I looked around I saw you. Laying face down with one arm over him. And you were just. Just COVERED in blood Macaque. I thought you two had been attacked, I didn't know what kind of demon could do that to you and thought that both of you were hurt." He ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath, reaching over to prepare something behind him. "It wasn't until I rushed over that I realized that MK was passed out and aside from scratches on his arms you were the only one that was badly hurt."

There it was, the memory of what happened finally came back to him. Telling the kid the truth. The kid losing it. Holding him until he was able to fight back the transformation. The claws. The bite. His arm throbbed, the first not numb thing about his body he felt (though not fully painful), and he was surprised that he hadn't noticed his injured arm laying out in front of him until that moment, fully bandaged and (thankfully) not looking like he was missing a chunk of himself after all.

"MK's been out since I got up. You were completely unresponsive until early sundown, and when you did wake up you were in too much pain to tell me anything. I tried to get you to take some medicine but you grabbed my arm and shoved the entire bundle in our mouth. You passed back out before you could try to eat the salve I put on your wounds too. I'm amazed y-"

"I told him," Macaque interupted without prompting, and when Wuking spun around (too fast you idiot you're going to hurt yourself) with a wet cloth in hand he just let the words fall from his mouth. Why stop them? He had already told Wukong as much as he had told the kid, and the evidence of what had transpired was litterally all over him. Not much he could hide now. It was the exact opposite of what happened then, no more tar and honey returning. Bittersweet and if he were to give it flavor it would be buttercups. "After he passed out the first time I treated your wounds and when he woke up he helped me and then started asking questions..."

Without saying a word Wukong sat and listened, face tightening as he gingerly removed something from his back (gauze perhaps, he had no bandages on) and ran the cloth over numb cuts. He looked only between the wounds and Macaque's face, letting him retell every detail. "Kid tried to fight it but I just. I didn't know what to do when he started to change again so I... I..." He coughed, throat growing dry again.

This time Wukong stopped him, holding the canteen (not empty after all) to his lips again. They sat in silence for a moment, him drinking and Wukong turning to grab a container and fresh gauze and bandages when he stopped. He nodded, going back to the other monkey's back and Macaque realized the container was healing salve for his wounds. He didn't need it or the medicine, not really, but even with his fast healing and sturdyness it never hurt to have extra help to speed up the healing process. "You what, Macaque?"

"I... think I... hugged him into submission?" Macaque scowled, not sure if he even believed what he was saying and not missing the shocked look on the other's face. "And he bit me." He added quickly.

"He BIT you!?" The Monkey King leaned sideways, looking at Macaque increduously before his gaze veered over to his bandaged arm. "Well. That explains... the everything. Your back and arms looked like you were nearly gored from behind, but with how long his claws get when... yeah, that adds up."

"Is he ok?" The question came out without him even thinking about it. Damn medicine... But this only seemed to make Wukong shake his head with a surprised chuckle.

"Yeah, MK is fine. Exhausted, but fine. I treated his arms after I got your back to stop bleeding." He went back to applying the salve, touch a bit more firm as he rubbed it through his now less matted fur. The pressure would have normally made Macaque tense but now it just made him relax further into the clothes he was resting on (which he now noticed were Wukong's top layers and a blanket the kid insisted they each got at one of the many villages they passed through).

For a while the two remained silent, the Monkey King dressing the wounds on the Six Eared Macaque's back. Maybe it was the exhaustion kicking back in or something else, but Macaque just allowed himself to lay there and not think of anything. His mind tried to wander a bit, somewhat toward the kid and somewhat toward the odd reactions of the king, but nothing really stuck with his head swimming as it was. He only opened his eyes (when had he let them close?) when he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He watched as the bandages were unwrapped slowly and the same treatment given to his back was repeated.

"You're lucky he didn't bite your dominant arm," Wukong said softly, finally breaking the silence with a shakiness in his voice that was almost missed. "Or break your arm completely. You'll heal fine, but if you were anyone else you wouldn't even have an arm to treat right now...." He shook his head and under his breath he heard the king mutter "What were you thinking?"

Macaque looked away, gaze catching the still sleeping form of MK on the other side of the low fire. The kid would be exhausted from his second (almost) transformation in 24 hours for a while yet and that made his chest hurt just like before. He remembered the betrayal on his face, so much like and yet so much worse than when he betrayed him by stealing his powers. He remembered how the kid seemed to need the hug he had offered him so long ago at the start of all this as much as he did. He remembered how scared he looked at the prospect of seeing his parents again when he asked about them. And he remembered how much he kid laughed on this journey, how happy he seemed every time he was praised for even the smallest things, how he offered Macaque so much without asking for anything in return even before he put that stupid headband on the kid. He remembered how, despite everything... MK wasn't giving up on him...

He looked back at Wukong, grabbing his leg with as much strength as he could muster in his hurt arm until the other returned his gaze. "He's been hurt enough."

There was an understanding in Sun Wukong's eyes. For the first time in more years than Six Eared Macaque would admit... they understood each other completely without needing more words. MK had been hurt enough. They would take as much hurt away from him as they could.

The moment was broken when his grip weakened he closed his eyes, unable to stay open for as long as he would like, and when he opened them back up Wukong had already finished bandaging up his arm. He noticed a soft pressure around his tail but said nothing, not right now, and he only moved when there was a gentle tapping on his side. "Can you sit up a bit? I need to put on bandages, then you should get some more rest."

Macaque complied, using his good arm to raise himself up just enough for the other's arms to go under and around him to pass the bandages between hands (no, it was not a "almost hug" no matter what his tired brain told him). It was done sooner than expected and a gentle hand on his shoulder pushed him down into the soft fabric beneath him, his gaze fixed firmly on the soundly sleeping form of the kid as he watched to make sure he was really just sleeping.

If he noticed that there were soft claws running through his hair he said nothing. And if Wukong noticed the squeeze of a tail against his own he said nothing either. Eventually he let his eyes slip closed once more, feelin his chest rumble in a soft purr. The claws against his scalp stopped and there was a warmth after a while, a weight around him. Wukong must have laid a blanet over him, but the claws returned and their tails remained intertwined even as he moved to his other side. It wasn't until he felt a rumble beside him that wasn't his own that he realized the blanket was over both of them. He said nothing, not caring about the implications as he allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

And if he, maybe, dreamed of watching the two people he had reluctantly grown to care most about happy... well, he wouldn't say anything about that either.

[megslovesbooks]

Only Honest When It Rains

Read on Ao3

“Eddie–” he begins, but falters, unsure what he’s even asking.

“I’m fine Buck.” Eddie says, his gaze never leaving the road in front of them, his color worse than ever.

It takes everything in Buck to keep from slamming on the breaks and bringing them to a screeching halt in the middle of the fourlane. It's the first time Eddie’s lied to his face, or at least the first time he’s been so painfully aware of it. He’s tempted to let a surge of righteous anger crest behind his ribs, but it's becoming increasingly clear that they’ve both been lying to each other for weeks. He’s fine. Eddie’s fine. Its all fucking fine. Buck sets his jaw and presses his foot a little harder on the gas.

Or

In the aftermath of the prison riot Buck worries, Eddie spirals, and Chris just wants to have a movie night.

cw/ a minor kitchen injury and some blood

chapter 1/2

3k-ish

Eddie calls Buck roughly 30 hours into their 48 hours of downtime.

It’s just after noon and Buck is sitting blearily at his kitchen counter trying to decide if it’s worth putting on shoes to go get a cup of real coffee or if it’s better to just suck it up and make the instant lurking in the back of the pantry. They’d been on a 24 hour shift and then stayed at the hospital waiting for word on Nolan so by the time Buck had fallen into bed around 10am yesterday he’d been so dead on his feet he doesn't really remember much between then and now. He must have gotten up for things like water and food at some point he supposes, but it's all sorta gray in his head. At least he’d been too tired to dream. Small mercies. He’s just about made his mind up to go with the instant, his body still feeling too heavy and sore for doing much today beyond Netflix and the couch, when his phone begins to ring. The sound sends a little spike of adrenaline through him, he’s got the ringer on ‘do not disturb’ and only a few of his contacts are set to supersede that. Bobby, Taylor, Maddie and—

Eddie’s name flashes on the screen, the picture one Buck himself had taken of the Diaz boys at the beach last spring. They’re both laughing about something just outside the camera’s field of view. The memory usually warms him, but lately--it’s not that anything’s wrong exactly, it’s just--off. And maybe it’s that he’s spending more of his down time with Taylor and maybe it’s that Chris is getting bigger (the thought twists something low and melancholy in his chest) and has been hanging out with his school friends more and there have been fewer movie nights at home. Maybe it's that Buck is certain something is going on with Eddie but he doesn't know what. He can see it in the line of his shoulders and the shadows under his eyes, and the way Eddie seems to be avoiding all human contact that isn’t Chris like the plague. When Buck tries to bring it up, all Eddie ever says is ‘I’m fine’, which is clearly untrue. Maybe that in itself is enough to cause the low level tension he’s been feeling almost constantly lately. He’s used to knowing Eddie’s thoughts, or at least his behaviors, as well as his own. They aren’t even working together much these days with Chim still on leave and Buck is feeling more and more like he’s losing sight of the shore.

He fumbles with the phone for a minute before managing to hit the answer button.

“Hey.” He says, voice rough with disuse.

“Hey.” Eddie answers, sounding as steady and relaxed as he ever does. Sometimes it makes Buck want to shake him. “Did I wake you? I can let you go.”

“No.” Buck clears his throat and tries again. “No, I’m up, just haven’t had my coffee yet.” Eddie hums an agreement and then drops into silence long enough that something like worry starts to prick at the back of Buck’s mind. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah.” Eddie says, his tone light, but now that Buck is more awake he can hear the brittle edge to it. Buck knows he’s probably just tired, Eddie doesn’t have the luxury of sleeping for nearly 24 hours straight after a long hard shift. Still. “Chris was hoping you’d be free tonight, I told him you probably have plans but--”

“I’m free.” Buck says, maybe a little too quickly, but it's Chris after all. Its Eddie.

“Great. Pizza and a movie at our place?”

“Sounds perfect.” Buck says, his chest full of warm thoughts of Chris wanting to hang out with him. No matter how many times they do this it always feels like some kind of rare gift, to be chosen by the people he loves most in the world.

“Great.” Eddie says again, then goes oddly quiet for the second time. Buck hesitates, something he would never have done even a few weeks ago, then pushes forward through his own unease.

“You ok Eds?” The question is soft, as if he’s afraid to spook Eddie through the phone.

“Of course.” Eddie says, and whatever that weird edge to his voice had been, it’s gone. “See you tonight. Is 5 too early?” Buck can feel his mouth twist unhappily, he wants to keep pushing until Eddie gives him some sort of answer that feels real, but all he says is,

“Can’t wait. I’ll bring the pizza, tell Chris it's his turn to pick the movie.” Eddie chuckles and the sound is so familiar and somehow so foreign it makes Buck’s chest ache.

“He already has a stack ready, I’ve been told they are ranked in order of importance and also time. He’s angling for a double feature.”

“Well, I think we can swing that.” Buck says.

“See you in a bit then, gotta go run some errands.” Eddie says and it's not until they’ve hung up that Buck really stops to think about how skillfully Eddie deflected the conversation away from himself and just how often it's been happening lately.

***

He shows up at the Diaz house at 5pm sharp. The truth is he’s been a little antsy ever since getting off the phone with Eddie hours ago and he’d had to force himself not to rush right over. A couple cups of coffee had burned away the last of the sleepy fog in his head and the rest of the afternoon he’s been actively working not to go over the events of their last shift in too much detail.

Don’t think about the sick rush of adrenaline as he looks over and sees the gun leveled at him from the passenger seat of the ambulance. Don’t think about the cold horror of seeing Chris’ photo in Mitchell’s hands. Don’t think about watching Eddie’s entire body lock into a frigid combat mode Buck has never seen from him before, even in the midst of their worst days on the job. Really REALLY don’t think of the sound of the gunshot and the bone deep fear that he’d fallen back through time, that he could still taste Eddie’s blood on his lips.

They’d made it out. Saved a life. It was all fine.

Eddie was fine. He was. He’d given his statement to the police in an even voice, he’d cleaned Mitchell’s blood off his fingers and the back of his neck with steady hands, he’d sat with Savannah while she waited for news about her son, his instinct to help those around him as profound as ever. He answered Bobby’s questions in detail and assured Hen he was perfectly fine. Except he wasn’t. Buck knew he wasn’t. He’d been almost unnaturally still as the hours in the waiting room stretched on, the lines of his body pulled taut like wires about the snap. Buck had reached for him only once, and while Eddie hadn’t exactly flinched, he’d slipped out of Buck’s touch with such precision the message had been perfectly clear. It was the last time they’d spoken one on one for the rest of the night.

Hen had shot Buck a worried frown, but he’d been shaky with the adrenaline comedown and his head had been pounding, and whatever she’d been thinking she’d kept to herself while prodding his bruised face with gentle fingers. After that, after learning that Nolan was going to be ok, after the sun was up and the shadows of last night began to take on a dream like haze through the filter of his exhaustion, after watching Eddie turn and walk away without a backwards glance, it was all Buck could manage to get home, reassure Taylor, and then collapse into bed.

Now here he is, his jeep full of the smell of hot pizza, Eddie’s house a friendly beacon outside his windshield, and a nervous energy in his gut he can’t explain. Pulling in a noisy breath Buck scoops up the pizza and heads for the front door. He rings the bell instead of walking in. Chris opens it with a speed that tells Buck he’s been waiting. It would be enough to make his throat tighten with emotion alone, but he has to actively blink against a hot feeling in his eyes when the kid throws himself at Buck for a hug, heedless of the pizza boxes balanced in his hands.

“Hey buddy.” Buck says, and he only has to clear his throat a little. He tells himself he’s still a little worn out. That’s all. “It's so good to see you.” Chris pulls back, clearly gearing up for some sort of story or explanation, but then he frowns.

“You hurt your head.” He says, “Are you OK? Is that why dad was being so weird yesterday?”

Buck doesn't know what to say to that, and before he can ask for more clarification on what ‘being weird’ means Eddie is there, taking the boxes out of his hands.

“Let Buck get in the door before you start catching him up on everything alright mijo?” He says with a grin and Buck can’t tell if he overheard Chris’ comment or not.

“Hi.” Buck says, and feels a little of the sharp weight in his chest ease when Eddie smiles at him in that warm, familiar way.

“Hey.” He says, then Chris is pulling Buck towards the living room and Eddie and the pizza are disappearing into the kitchen. Chris gives him a detailed rundown of the movie options and they decide to go with The Nightmare Before Christmas because it’s almost Halloween (“I thought this was a Christmas movie?” “It can be BOTH Buck.”), followed by The Lego Batman Movie. By the time they’re finished making the selection Eddie is back with food and drinks and they all settle in. Buck doesn't miss the way Eddie seats himself in the chair across from Chris’s side of the couch instead of sharing the space with him and Buck like normal. He’s still within easy reach, still part of their conversation, but it's a deliberate disruption in their usual routine. The unease in Buck’s gut returns with a vengeance but the opening notes of This is Halloween are filling the space between them, making it impossible to do much about it.

They’ve just started the next movie, Lego Batman in full batmode, when Eddie gets up and starts clearing the dishes off the coffee table. It's another break in tradition. Usually Buck clears the dishes and sets the kitchen to rights while Eddie is getting Chris in bed before they both join in for the bedtime story. Buck moves to stand, reaching for one of the empty plates, but Eddie waves him off.

“I got it.” He says, and vanishes into the kitchen before Buck can formulate a protest. A few minutes pass before there is the sound of breaking glass.

“Fuck!” Eddie says, loud enough to make both Buck and Chris jump. They look at each other, startled, then Buck forces a grin.

“Oops.” He says lightly, reaching over to squeeze Chris’s arm in what he hopes is a reassuring way. “Five bucks in the swear jar for dad!”

Chris smiles but there is still worry etched all over his face. The Diaz household doesn't have a swear jar. Eddie never uses language like that in front of Christopher. Buck used to tease him about it until one night when it was late and they’d had a couple beers, and Eddie had told him that his dad used to swear at him and his sisters when he was angry at them. About how even though it was only words, and he never raised his hand against them, it made Eddie feel so small and afraid. Buck can still hear the slight hitch in his voice when he says he never wants to make his son feel afraid in his own home.

Something’s wrong.

“It's OK buddy.” Buck says gently, tucking Chris’ blanket a little more snugly around his legs then pushing himself to his feet. “I’m going to help dad in the kitchen for a minute, we’ll be right back.” He glances back at the couch as he passes the dining room table. Chris has turned his attention back to the movie but he’s clearly still on alert, half listening to whatever it is that’s happening behind him. With a sigh Buck steps into the kitchen and closes the door softly behind him, unsure what he’s walking into.

At first glance nothing is amiss, Eddie is bent over the sink, water running full blast, he seems fine. But then Buck sees the shards of the broken glass that litter the counter and floor and the way Eddie’s body seems to be trying to push as far away from the water as it can while keeping his hands under the stream, every line of his back a ridged, silent scream.

“Eddie?” He’s trying to keep his voice low and easy, but something hot and sour is beginning to creep up the back of his throat. “What’s going on?”

“Go back to the living room Buck.” Eddie grinds out, and it's such a flat dismissal that Buck has the sudden urge to laugh. What the hell is happening?

“Uh. No.” He says, edging closer around the table. He’s near enough now to see that Eddie’s whole body is trembling, sweat soaking through the back of his t-shirt, his ribs heaving like he’s just finished running up a dozen flights of stairs.

“Eddie.” Buck says, easing himself into the space beside him, “What--” then his eyes catch on the contents of the sink. “Jesus Eds!”

It's a mess. Eddie has one hand closed tight in a fist under the running water but it's not enough to stem the steady flow of crimson dripping from between his fingers and over the curve of his wrist. There are more shards of glass in the sink, all splashed a thin red. The memory of looking down as the water in his shower spiraled down the drain, pink with Eddie’s blood, is so visceral that Buck has to suck a breath in between his clenched teeth. Now is not the time for that though, so he reaches out and turns off the water and tries to take Eddie’s hand in his so he can see how bad it is. If the amount of blood is any indication it's not great. Before Buck can touch him though, Eddie is pulling out of his reach, stumbling back as if he’s not quite in control of his own body. His back hits the fridge with a thud and he stays there, looking like a wounded animal caught in the headlights.

“Hey.” Buck says, his throat tight. He’s furious with himself for letting things get this far. He’s known for weeks that things were bad, for them both, and usually he’d have been on it like a dog on a bone, it's just that he feels like he doesn't know how to do that anymore. He’s pretty pissed at Eddie too, truth be told. What the fuck are they doing? To each other? To themselves? “You need to let me look at that Eds. Come on.”

He reaches out again, getting close, but leaving the final inches for Eddie to cross. For one long terrible moment they look at each other across the void while Eddie’s blood drips down onto the asphalt between them. Then without speaking Eddie reaches his hand out, Buck takes it in both his own, frowning at the tremors he can still feel rolling through his best friend’s body. Carefully he eases Eddie’s fingers open, hissing softly as the wound comes into view. It is bad, but not nearly as bad as he feared. The gash is jagged and deep, but most of the damage is in the meaty part of the palm, avoiding tendons and connective tissue. It's bleeding a lot though, too much for regular bandages. They’re going to need to get him stitched up.

“OK.” Buck says, letting go with one hand so he can reach for a dish towel on the counter. “OK.” He keeps his other hand firmly locked around Eddie’s wrist, he’s half afraid if he lets go his partner will disappear into the night. Towel acquired, he wraps it snugly around Eddie’s palm and folds the fingers back over it.

“Can you keep pressure on that?”” He asks. When there isn’t an immediate response Buck looks up sharply. Eddie is silent under his hands, his gaze fixed somewhere just over Buck’s left shoulder. “Eds?” He says more forcefully, “You still with me?”

Eddie pulls in a harsh breath through his nose.

“Yeah.” He says. “Yes.”

Buck doesn't entirely believe him, debating for a moment if he should get Eddie into a chair before leaving the kitchen, but when he lets go and steps back half a step Eddie remains solidly propped against the fridge.

“Stay here.” Buck says. “I’ll tell Chris what’s happening then we need to get you to Urgent Care. Don’t move.” He expects resistance, at least verbally, but Eddie continues to gaze into the middle distance. He’s keeping steady pressure on his hand though so Buck shoves his fear down for a little longer and heads back toward the living room.

He’s halfway to the couch when he looks down at his hands and sees Eddie’s blood smudged across his skin. Shit. SHIT. He course corrects, heading for the hall bathroom, something wild and terrible thrashing in his chest. He turns the water on with shaking fingers and scrubs his skin clean as quickly as he can. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Keep it together Buckley. Fuck. He can’t afford to have a breakdown now. Not yet. He sucks in three deep breaths and doesn’t meet his own eyes in the mirror. Somehow he makes it back out of the bathroom without screaming and makes a quick stop in Chris’s room for shoes and a sweater on his way back to the living room.

“Hey Superman.” He says, reaching over and switching off the tv before crouching down to start helping Chris into his shoes. “Listen, your dad cut his hand on a broken glass. He’s ok, but we’re gonna take him to the doctor just to make sure OK?” Chris’ eyes are huge in his face but he just nods. Buck is just about to tell Chris to pull the sweater on while he goes and gets Eddie when Chris pulls out of his grip, slithering off the couch a little frantically.

“Dad!” He says, and Buck looks up to see Eddie walking towards them. He seems perfectly steady, but his face is paler than Buck would like. He’s added a second dish towel to his hand and he’s got his arm cradled against his chest where it's mostly out of sight.

“It's OK bud.” Eddie says, leaning down to press a kiss to his son’s head. “Just a little cut.”

“Do you have to get stitches?” Chris asks, part interest and part worry.

“Looks like it. Yucky huh?”

“Yeah.”

Somehow Buck gets them all into the jeep and heads toward the nearest urgent care center, the ER will take hours and something deep in his chest tells him the sooner they can get this over with and back to the house the better. There’s some sort of silent countdown running out on them, Buck isn’t sure when it began but he knows whatever is at the end of it will not be easy. Whether it will be disastrous remains to be seen. Buck turns up the radio a little louder so that Chris can’t hear them,

“Eddie–” he begins, but falters, unsure what he’s even asking.

“I’m fine Buck.” Eddie says, his gaze never leaving the road in front of them, his color worse than ever.

It takes everything in Buck to keep from slamming on the breaks and bringing them to a screeching halt in the middle of the fourlane. It's the first time Eddie’s lied to his face, or at least the first time he’s been so painfully aware of it. He’s tempted to let a surge of righteous anger crest behind his ribs, but it's becoming increasingly clear that they’ve both been lying to each other for weeks. He’s fine. Eddie’s fine. Its all fucking fine. Buck sets his jaw and presses his foot a little harder on the gas.

[ynsimagines]

Supergirl Request: B!D Gets shot.

Lena had offered you a job as her  assistant upon college graduation. You were a hard worker and wanted a well paying job. You knew Lena before getting the job from interacting with her at game nights or karaoke. You always found yourself drawn to her she was powerful and strong willed. But you also saw a softer, kinder side.

 Alex insisted that you take a black armored DEO vehicle to work everyday. As your older sister she was extremely protective, she would not hear an argument against it. You even tried to convince Kara that it was extreme, but there was no getting through to her either. But today all the safety precautions didn’t seem to work today. It was supposed to be a slow at L Corp. One of answering emails, and phone calls, but someone managed to break in getting past Lena’s security. 

You would later learn that Morgan Edge had hired a couple of Hitmen for Lena’s monthly assassinations attempt. Unfortunately you ended up getting caught in the crossfires. Lena had told you to run get somewhere safe and save yourself, but you of course refused to leave her.

The pain didn't hit you at first the need to get yourself and Lena to safety came first. “Y/N, you just got shot” Lena placed her hands gently on your shoulders as you realized you were slowly falling to the ground. That’s when you felt the worst pain in your lower stomach. You could also feel the shirt clinging to you because of the blood.

“Stay with me,” Lena said. Her voice was sounding farther and farther away. “Supergirl!” she called out to your sister who had arrived a touch to late.

.

Beeping. that’s the first thing you heard. There was a dull ache in your stomach.

“Y/N,” you heard Alex say quietly you opened your eyes to see that you were in the DEO med bay Alex was sitting in the chair next to you holding your hand looking worse for wear. You looked to the other side and noticed your blonde sister was sitting in the chair on your other side half of her body slumped over on your bed she was still asleep and hadn't even taken off her super suit. “What happened Alex, why am I in the DEO?” You asked slightly panicked.

“Shh, you’re okay” she said gently stroking your hair. “You got shot with a bullet today while you were at work.”

The talking seemed to wake Kara up slowly. She looked confused than relieved when her eyes landed on you, “Little one, thank Rao you’re okay.”

You nodded, “can I have some water” you rasped. Your blonde sister grabbed the cup that was next to you and helped you take a sip before putting it back down. Kara felt extremely guilty for what happened to you. She hadn’t gotten to you quickly enough. Of course Supergirl had flown to L Corp as soon as she got the alert, but the hitman had been expecting Supergirl and one managed to hold her off until it was too late. What kind of Superhero cant protect her own baby sister?

“How are you feeling, sweetheart? Are you in any pain?” Asked Alex. 

“A little, but its manageable,” you said reassuringly. But Alex didn't even want you to have the slightest discomfort and slightly increased your pain meds. The more you looked at Alex the more you started to realize how tired she looked she had purple circles under her eyes and you realize she must not have hardly slept if at all.

“How long have I been unconscious?”

“About 24 hours,” Alex said looking at her watch. Your oldest sister also felt incredibly guilty. She was supposed to protect you and keep you safe. The DEO should’ve gotten there faster, and she never should’ve let you work at L Corp.

Your sisters managed to fill you in a little more on what happened, “I’m so sorry  Little one,” said Kara “this is my fault I should’ve gotten to you and Lena sooner.”

You shook you head, “No Kara this isn’t your fault. I know you were held up even Supergirl cant be in two places at once.”

“She’s right Kara its not your fault it’s mine,” said Alex. “I should’ve gotten there sooner, and I never should’ve agreed to let you work at LCorp.”

“Oh my God you two are being ridiculous.” you said causing them to both look at you surprised. “Alex you got there as quickly as you could, I’m an adult and make my own decisions about where I work,” you said giving her a pointed look. “Besides if I wasn’t there Lena would’ve been shot, and I know you wouldn’t want that either.”

“Speaking of Lena, is she okay?” You asked worried.

“She’s fine, little one we sent her home to get some rest,” answered Kara.

Alex nodded, “Lena is really worried about you kiddo, didn't want to leave.”

 You felt touched that Lena cared so much about you. You yawned starting to feel tired. “Get some rest sweetheart, you need it,” said Kara leaning down to kiss your forehead followed by Alex doing the same. 

.

You woke up a couple of hours later to find that your sisters had stepped out, and you were in the presence of none other than Lena Luthor. She was sitting on her laptop typing away and hadn’t yet noticed your presence until she suddenly looked up.

“Y/N, darling you’re awake. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” Asked Lena worried as she walked over to you.

“No, I’m not in pain. Where are my sisters?” You asked looking around.

“They went home to take a shower and eat something,” she said gently rubbing your arm. You nodded “they’ll be back soon.”

You took a deep breath, “Lena I’m really sorry about what happened at L Corp.”

Lena immediately shook her head, “What? Y/N, none of what happened is your fault. If anything its mine. You’re like a sister to me and I failed to keep you safe. ”

You wanted to reply to her, but after that admission you didn't quite know what to say. “I completely understand if you dont want to work at L Corp anymore. I’ll even help you find a new job,” said Lena.

“But Lena I don’t want another job. I love working at L Corp so much. Yeah sure I got hurt, but I’m gonna be okay, and what happened to me isn’t your fault its Morgan Edges’.”

“What about your sisters?”

“What about them? you answered. It’s my decision. If Alex is upset about it I’ll deal with her,” you said knowing Lena would be worried about Alex getting mad at her. 

“Okay sweetheart, I want you to take some time off to get better, and I’m going to increase the security. You will never get hurt under my watch again.”

You nodded, “Lena?” You asked causing the other women to look back at you. “I also love you like a sister, I’m glad you’re a part of our family.” 

Lena had to take a deep breath just to keep herself from bursting into tears she leant down and gave you a gentle hug careful not to hurt you, “that means so much sweetheart, thank you for saying that I love you too.”

.

You winced as Alex inspected and cleaned your bullet wound. Today was the fourth day of being in the DEO after you had been shot. Your sisters and Lena all took turns being by your side. On the second day the assassins' were found and arrested along with Morgan Edge but not before getting roughed up by Agent Danvers.

When you woke up you had been feeling some pain where the bullet hit you. When Alex went to inspect it she realized your wound had a mild infection. 

“How bad is it, is she going to be okay?” Kara asked as she held your hand.

“Can I still go home today?” you asked tired of being stuck in the DEO with nothing to do except watch Netflix.

“It’s just a minor infection,” said Alex. “You’ll need to take some antibiotics, but once I clean it there’s no need to keep you here any longer.”

“I’m going to be working from home for a while to look after you, little one,” said Kara.

“I still have to go into work, but I’m going to stay the night at yours and Kara’s apartment for the week. And Lena’s gonna stay with you while we go on patrol,” added Alex.

You smiled, you had the best family ever. 

“Sweetheart, we know your an adult and can make your own decisions,” said Kara looking at Alex pointedly. “And what happened wasn't in any way your fault.”

“We just want you to remember that your not invincible,” said Alex sitting on your bed after she finished cleaning your wound and removed her gloves. “That bullet could’ve killed you,  just promise us you wont jump in front of a gun ever again.”

“I Promise,” you knew that if you had the chance to potentially save your sisters, Lena, or any other member of your family from dying you would no matter the cost, but you weren't up for having that conversation right now.

“Can you guys also promise me something? That you’ll get some sleep, and eat something substantial. You both look exhausted the last thing we need is for one of you to collapse. And get Lena to do the same,” your sisters smile at this. You’re always so concerned about others even while you’re lying in a hospital bed with a hole in your stomach. 

“Alright we promise Sweet girl,” said Kara kissing your forehead.

 “Can we have pizza tonight?” You asked causing both your sisters to laugh for the first time in days. 

Later that night when Lena came to the apartment she found you and your sisters fast asleep on the couch.

[writinglizards]

I’m Kinda Helpless (and I Need You)

Summary: It's not anyone else's fault he fell in love with a witcher who decided he wants nothing to do with him. They're here to have fun. He can pretend to do that, for a little while.

Jaskier, at a New Year's party, gets a terrifying call from a certain witcher.

Read on Ao3

"Come on, Jask," Priscilla's saying, tugging him out of the kitchen and away from the alcohol table, "we brought you here to enjoy yourself, not drink yourself stupid. You could do that at home."

"This is only my fourth drink, Pri," he whines, spinning the mostly empty wine glass in his hands absently as Priscilla continues to lead him through the densely packed crowd to where Essi's chatting with..."Valdo," Jaskier hisses.

"Jaskier," Valdo returns, smile bright. Jaskier scowls harder and both Essi and Priscilla roll their eyes.

"Play nice, boys," Essi chastises before catching her girlfriend around the waist and reeling her in to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Just like college," Pri laughs, looping the arm not wound around Essi around Jaskier's neck and dragging him in with her. Valdo watches with an indulgent smile and Jaskier finds he doesn't even hate him, much. It's frustrating.

He forces a smile and tries not to let his sour mood drag the rest of them down with him. It's not anyone else's fault he fell in love with a witcher who decided he wants nothing to do with him. They're here to have fun. He can pretend to do that, for a little while.

They chat for a little before Essi gets dragged off by another acquaintance, Priscilla following, and then it's just Jaskier and Valdo.

"Heard you've had a rough go of it, lately," Valdo says as they stand shoulder to shoulder, staring out across the room. Jaskier doesn't know most of the people here; a few years ago that would have been exciting, now he wishes he'd stayed home, just a little. He lifts his shoulder in a one-sided shrug, sips from his wine glass. There's no point lying to Valdo.

"I'm...sorry for that, Julian, truly. You deserve someone who loves you, who makes you happy." His fingers tighten on the stem of the glass.

"And who's that, hm? You?" He can't help but say, words sharp like a knife. Valdo winces.

"Once upon a time, maybe," he sighs. It's quiet for a beat, "I still want the best for you, though." Jaskier lets out a gust of breath. He may not love the man anymore, may have never loved him, really, but--

"I know," he says, bumps their shoulders together gently, "thank you, Valdo."

"Anytime, Julian." It's soft and subdued, private and just for them. "Come find me before the countdown, yeah? For...old time's sake." It sounds like a resounding bad idea, but...

"I'll think about it," Jaskier says softly.

Valdo makes a satisfied noise and bumps their shoulders together again, gently, before he's stepping away, "Well, better make the rounds. See you in a bit, maybe," and then he's gone too, leaving Jaskier standing at the edge of the party.

He stays there only a moment. It's...a lot. The press of bodies, people chatting, the low thrum of music. This kind of thing used to be his scene, where he thrived. Now he just...he just wants Geralt and that hurts, Geralt wanted him gone, said "if life could give me one blessing" and well. Jaskier's trying, he really is it's just...hard.

He slips out the back door and onto the terrace off the back of the house. It's just for some air, he tells himself, he's not...not running away. He just needs a minute to breathe.

From here he can see the street through the cute little metal gate, the pass of cars and the occasional pedestrian. It's a rich side of town, one he rarely visits any longer. He doesn't even know the host, a friend of Priscilla's, someone she works with. He feels out of place. This is a far cry from the dingy diners, the 24-hour gas stations he's used to frequenting at this point. Or well. Had frequented, he guesses. He hasn't been much of anywhere since...before.

He leans against the little railing and tugs out his phone to check the time and then just...stares. He hadn't been able to bring himself to change his lock screen yet, a photo of the two of them, squeezed into a booth at some little coffee shop whose name he can't remember. Jaskier's smiling, bright and electric and Geralt's...not, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners, just a little, and he looks...he looks...

His chest heaves a nearly sobbing breath as he lets the screen go dark. He's maybe had a few too many drinks, but he's not going to cry about it, about him. It doesn't matter how happy he looks in the photos on Jaskier's phone. Geralt doesn't want anything to do with him, not anymore.

He's still wallowing in self-pity when his phone rings, vibrating intensely in his hand. No caller ID pops up, but Jaskier answers anyway. It's just as likely to be Essi calling from someone else's phone because hers has died as it is to be Geralt calling from a new burner phone. Except--

"Jaskier?"

His voice is rough and beautiful and tight with pain and Jaskier's heart stutters. His throat works, but no sound comes out.

"Jaskier, please, I--"

"Geralt," he forces out, his own voice hoarse. "Geralt, what--"

"Please," he continues, steamrolling right over Jaskier's quiet protest, "I need you to know I...fuck," it's a tiny noise of pain. Jaskier's chest clenches, "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve any of it." His voice is faint.

"Geralt, where are you, what's wrong?"

"I'm...fine." It's not reassuring.

"Geralt, where are you," he's starting to panic, a little, "I'll call Yen, I'm sure she'll--"

Geralt laughs, sharp and sardonic, a noise that cuts off quickly on a wheeze. "Yen's the last person I'd call, Jask." The diminutive does something painful to him. He can feel the tears slipping down his cheeks as he rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand, frustrated.

"Still. Where are you?"

"Do you remember that diner on third street?" Geralt asks, voice a little hazy, a little too soft as Jaskier pushes back through the house. He needs to find Essi or Pricilla, someone who can drive him--"the one where...ah...where you order the--the milkshakes?"

"I do," he says. He can't find his friends, but he catches Valdo's eye across the room and something in his expression must be especially concerning because Valdo's already bowing out of the conversation and making his way over.

"I'm...I left Roach there," he says just as Valdo approaches, mouths "what's wrong" at him.

"Okay, and where are you?" Jaskier asks, holding a single finger up to Valdo who nods.

"I--" a harsh, painful breath, "--was checking out the warehouse two streets over. Bruxa nest."

"Okay. Okay, just--Valdo, do you have your car?" Valdo blinks at him, a little wide-eyed. Geralt makes a strangled noise on the other end of the line.

"Jaskier, you've had too much to drive," he says, which means he does.

Jaskier makes an ungodly sound at the same time Geralt asks "Jask, where are you?"

"Will you drive me, then?" Valdo's had...maybe half a glass all night--he's still carrying around the rum and coke he had when they'd talked earlier, untouched.

Valdo gives him a hard look, and Jaskier thinks maybe he won't before, "Yeah. Let me grab my coat, I'll meet you out front in a minute."

"Thank you, Val," he says, nearly choking on the wave of emotion that hits him, the gratitude he feels for this man he used to love. "Geralt, we'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"Mm," the mumbled little response over the line isn't reassuring.

"How close to the warehouse are you still, love?" The endearment slips out without a thought, and Geralt sucks in a sharp breath. Jaskier winces hard.

"'M...down the street." He's quiet for a long moment where Jaskier worries he's passed out on him. "Sorry to ruin your night out."

"Geralt, you're not ruining anything for me." He shifts from foot to foot on the stoop out front, waiting for Valdo to emerge. "How bad is it?" Geralt's silent for too long. "Geralt?"

"Uh," Jaskier can tell from the tone he's making a face, "few busted ribs. I'm..." a soft sigh, "losing a lot of blood." His voice is faint, still.

"How much is a lot, Geralt?" Valdo steps out the door and ushers Jaskier over to his car.

"Where are we going?" he asks as he slips into the driver's seat, Jaskier already fumbling for his seatbelt.

"It's...I may not..."

"Geralt."

"It's not your fault, Jask." A feeling like ice washes through him.

"Are you out of swallow or what?" he asks, trying not to snap at him. Valdo's sitting patiently while he waits for directions, only the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel giving away his nerves.

"It's...I didn't bring it." Jaskier makes another ugly noise.

"The diner on third street," he tells Valdo who nods and shifts the car into gear, backing up. "it is in your car, yes?" he asks Geralt.

"...Yeah," he breathes. Jaskier just listens to the slow rasp of Geralt's breathing, eyes closed. He doesn't ask why Geralt didn't bring any with him, doesn't want to hear the answer, probably. "It's not your fault," Geralt repeats softly, and Jaskier can't help the little hiccuping sob, even as he presses a fist to his mouth to stifle it. Valdo stares out of the corner of his eye but doesn't say anything, which he's thankful for.

"If you die, I'll never forgive you, witcher." Geralt gives a huff over the phone, something like a laugh. "Don't hang up, okay?"

"Okay," he says. They lapse into silence, Jaskier occasionally giving updates on where they're at in relation to the diner, Geralt making vague noises of acknowledgment. When they hit the parking lot of the diner, Jaskier's out the door before Valdo's even parked. Roach is a few stalls away and Jaskier jogs over, fumbling his spare key Geralt hadn't taken back out of his pocket and unlocking it diving into the passenger seat, phone still pressed to his ear.

"I'm with Roach, Geralt, we're maybe five minutes away, okay?" Geralt doesn't respond, and something tightens in Jaskier's chest. With shaking fingers he digs through the floorboard and finds the little pouch of potions tucked in next to the steel sword and his sharpening kit in the foot of the passenger seat. He pulls the whole little bag out and locks the car door before slamming it closed behind him, a little too hard.

He slides back into the passenger seat of Valdo's car a few moments later, the pouch in his lap.

"Where to?"

"Try Fletcher. He's down by the warehouses." Valdo nods and backs out of the stall again. "Geralt?"

There's a rough noise over the line, but no indication Geralt's conscious. Fuck.

They turn onto Fletcher and Valdo drives slowly. It's dark and most people are either at home or at New Year’s parties, not hanging around the industrial district, so it's easy to spot the figure slumped over against a brick wall, pale hair hiding his face.

"Valdo--" he starts, but he's already seen him, and he hits the breaks. Jaskier's out of the car like a shot, potion bag tucked under his arm. He nearly trips over the sidewalk, barely catching himself at the last moment as he stumbles to a stop, hitting his knees beside Geralt hard.

"Geralt, love," he breathes, but it doesn't matter that his heart is pouring out his mouth--Geralt's out cold, phone cradled in his lap but not hung up, just like Jaskier asked. "Fuck."

He can see he's torn up--there's blood all over his armor and pooling on the sidewalk beneath him. He's got a hand pressed loosely over his side and his breathing's shallow. Jaskier fumbles a bottle of swallow out of the pouch and uncorks it.

"Please don't be too late," he whispers, careful fingers tipping Geralt's head up and coaxing his jaw open so he can pour the contents down his throat. Geralt sputters, but swallows, throat working, and Jaskier sits nearly in his lap, face cradled in his hands and fingers brushing his pulse point. Slowly, Jaskier watches as the wound on his side clots and knits together, feels the way his pulse, slow as always, strengthens ever so slightly, and Jaskier sighs, tips forward to press his forehead to Geralt's bloody shoulder as the adrenaline leaves him all at once. He'll be fine.

He sits there for a long moment, just letting the panic fizzle out. The footsteps behind him tell him Valdo's finally parked the car.

"Is he--"

"He'll be fine," Jaskier says, pulling back to stare at Geralt's prone form. His breathing is strengthening, the ribs beginning to knit back together now that the source of the blood loss has been dealt with. "Thank you, Val."

"Should we, uh, move him or something?" Valdo asks, the same moment Geralt groans and blinks open his eyes. "Oh, I'll...um. I'll wait in the car if...if you need me." He ducks his head and retreats to where he parked on the sidewalk a few paces away, giving them some privacy.

"You're here." Geralt's voice, usually gravel rough, is somehow deeper, more jagged, with the remnants of the potion.

"Did you think I wouldn't be?" Jaskier asks. He realizes he's still kneeling over Geralt, palms cupping his jaw and throat. Geralt's eyes flutter closed again, tired.

"I don't deserve it."

Jaskier's chest aches, sharp and painful. "Maybe not," he whispers, "but here I am." Geralt's breath stutters and he rotates out of Jaskier's grip to cough, a deep, rattling sound that makes Jaskier wince.

"I'm sorry I ruined your date," Geralt grinds out when his breathing settles, collapsing back against the wall again. Jaskier frowns.

"Why would I--?"

Geralt doesn't let him finish, "He looks...good. For you. I'm. I hope he makes you happy, Jask." Geralt's expression is guarded and it's...that's not...

"Geralt," Jaskier says slowly, "That's Valdo Marx. We're not dating. You did not interrupt a date. I was at a party."

"You're not...?" he starts, brows pinched, and Jaskier wants to hit something.

"Geralt. I'm--I'm not dating anyone. I. I can't." No one could ever make me as happy as you, he thinks but doesn't say.

Geralt makes a soft, unhappy sound, "Why?" At some point, his hands have landed on Jaskier's waist. Now he rubs gentle thumbs against the swell of Jaskier's hip bones in a movement that is more distracting than it has any right to be.

"Because I love you, you dolt," Jaskier chokes out, unable to hold down the swell of emotion at the confusion on Geralt's face, "and I know you said you didn't want to see me again and I--"

"Jask," Geralt stops him, a hand rising to cup his cheek, "you shouldn't."

"I know. I know, and I do anyway and I. I'm sorry, but--"

"I shouldn't have pushed you away," Geralt says, eyes bright with something Jaskier can't name. There's a thundering sound of cheers, distant this deep into the industrial part of the city. Midnight. New Years. "I love you, Jask, I'm sorry."

He tips forward to kiss him, and Geralt surges up to meet him, hands tangling in his hair. It's like breathing fresh air for the first time in years, like the first trip out of the city looking for a forktail, like every time Jaskier's patched him up, every time they've gotten coffee together at three am, every time Geralt's bought him a meal at a diner after midnight. The kiss breaks, but they don't move away, foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," Geralt repeats, eyes closed.

"So am I," Jaskier whispers back, "I've been a right bastard myself, on occasion.” Geralt huffs a laugh, something soft and intimate. Jaskier cards his fingers through his hair, gentle.

"Stay with me?" He asks, and that's--

"Yeah," Jaskier says, presses another kiss to his mouth, slow and sweet, "let me go tell Valdo I'm walking you to your car and he can go. Then you can take me home and we'll crash at my place, okay?"

"Okay," Geralt breathes, reluctantly letting go so Jaskier can stand. He stares at him a moment, bloody and bruised and so very, very beautiful, and then he's pulling himself away, back to Valdo and his car.

"He's okay?" Valdo asks, rolling his window down when Jaskier gets close.

"Yeah, I'm--"

"Are you okay?" he continues, gaze intense and--

"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah, we're okay. I'm. He makes me happy, Val." Valdo's expression softens, something relieved in his eyes.

"Good. I'm glad, Julian. Does he need a ride back to his car?" Jaskier turns to follow Valdo's gaze, sees how Geralt fidgets at the edge of the sidewalk, impatient.

"No. We'll walk back. Thanks for the ride. I'm. Really very thankful."

"I know." His smile is radiant. "Don't be a stranger, Julian." Jaskier makes a face, which only makes Valdo smile wider. "See you around."

The car pulls away when Jaskier steps back onto the sidewalk. Geralt winds his arms around Jaskier's waist when he gets close enough, pulls him into another slow, thorough kiss that sets his nerves alight. They break reluctantly, Jaskier's hand on Geralt's face.

"Come on, love, let’s get you home."

It's been weeks since Jaskier's been this close to Geralt, weeks since they talked, since they touched.

"You're here," Geralt rumbles, a quiet sound, "I'm already home." And that's--Jaskier has to clear his throat not to cry.

"Happy New Year, Geralt." Geralt’s expression is soft, fond as they start the walk back to Roach. He slips his hand into Jaskier's, threads their fingers together and brings the back of his hand to his lips in a gentle kiss.

"Yes," he says, "it is."

[hardyimagines]

Sleepy

Eddie brock going out with his gf at like 3am to a cafe just to drink hot chocolate and chill cause they had trouble sleeping. Is that a decent one shot tiny idea thingy?

———————————————————————

The moon was bright in the night’s sky. Stars sprinkled the blank area surrounding the glowing orb, glittering in the sky vibrantly. The city below was dark, most homes cascaded in a sheet of black as the owners slept peacefully behind closed doors. There were cars that would occasionally speed down the empty streets, fleeing past the lights that had been tinted green for majority of the night. There were a few fast food restaurants still open, sleepy employees residing inside with bored expressions and droopy eyes as they impatiently waiting for the clocks on the wall to strike a certain time, signaling for their departure. And for the remaining people who remained awake along with the city, people like you and your boyfriend, it was night’s like these when you just couldn’t seem to fall into slumber.

The air outside was chilly, much chillier than it was during the day now that you were without the heated glow from the sun. You walked alongside your boyfriend, clumpy slippers slapping the pavement beneath you as you shuffled beside him. Your hair was drawn up in a messy bun, fingertips wrapped around a dark purple, fluffy blanket that you had lugged off the sofa on your way out the front door and clutched around your body. You had smeared eyeliner under your eyes from the night before and you were dressed down in a pair of pyjama pants that belonged to the man at your side but they were too small for him, yet still baggy on you, so you’d taken them. Your eyes dropped to the plaid material, studying it for half a second before your attention was pulled to the heavy weight added to your shoulders.

Eddie Brock moved along beside you, his arm now rested around you snugly. His fingertips were gentle on the comfy fabric of the blanket, rubbing your arm through the thick material as he continued to talk to you about the nightmare he’d seemed to keep slipping into throughout the night.

“I’m telling you, babe,” He sighed breathily, his breaths visible in the streetlights glow. “It was terrifying. I mean, really, imagine a sixty foot tall horse trampling over you.” He lifted his gaze to the trees in the distance, as if a dark shadow would emerge from the clutter of leaves to reveal itself as this creature his brain had conjured up.

“Eddie.” Your eyes fluttered as they drifted up to his own. Your long lashes tickled your cheeks every time you blinked. “Honey, you have a parasite living inside you, how can you possibly be scared of a horse.” The amusement in your tone told Eddie that you were merely teasing the symbiote that lived inside him by using the term Venom hated most. Parasite. The flicker of Venom in Eddie’s gaze made your lips curve up on one side into a lopsided smirk. Opening your blanket, you stepped in closer to him and weaved your strong grip around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

Eddie peered down at you, doing his best to ignore the internal complaints that Venom continued to drone on about. Eddie wished that your thoughts could be invaded just as his were. It really wasn’t fair that he had to suffer all on his own.

The conversation came to a halt when you drew the heavy door open that led to the diner. The place was small, a hole in the wall, but it was known for its family business and original recipes — not to mention it was delicious — so the customers would pile in on a daily basis, typically in the mornings. They were also open 24/7 and any business that was tended to be worthy of being so. You stepped inside, unsurprised to find that it was even colder inside the small building. Eddie held the door open and piled in directly after you, coming to a stop when his chest brushed against your back. He was taller than you, chin almost pressed against the back of your head as his hands lifted to graze your covered arms.

The redhead by the door was busy smacking on a piece of gum, pink apron tied around her waist with a frilly lace lining the bottom. She was wearing a frizzy wig and bright blue eyeshadow. It was all a part of the outfit that her mother insisted was adorable — and therefore good for business. She thought she looked like a cheap extra, auditioning for a role in some movie that took place in the 50’s. The name tag on her white shirt read ‘Margaret’ and as you parted your lips to greet her, she did the same. Her lengthy nails lifted to dip past the curls and scratch at the wig that had been irritating her scalp for hours.

“Welcome.” She smiled sweetly, almost too kindly. “Would you like a table or a booth?”

Eddie’s eyes were busy dragging along the length of the room. There weren’t many people inside, but why would there be? The only other people here at this time of night would be people who travelled for work, policemen, the elderly, and people like you — people who couldn’t sleep.

You shuffled in front of your boyfriend, arm lifting so you could point toward the booth in the corner. “Booth is fine.” You didn’t mean to suggest a specific one, it was just habit to animatedly use your hands.

Eddie’s eyes flickered back to the girl as she spoke to you, gathering two menu’s and a slip of paper with the specials scribbled along the front. “Right this way.” She sighed before stepping past the pair of you and leading you through the scattered tables. Eddie was dressed down in a dark grey hoodie and some jeans he’d yanked on when you snagged the blanket from the sofa. His hand managed to find yours as it barely crept out of the underside of the blanket. Taking it in his own, he followed you toward the table that the lady ushered toward. You slid into the booth and Eddie followed suit. The woman would’ve given the pair of you a look of judgement, but she was too tired to poke fun at the fact that you’d both settled for one side when booths were double-sided. She dropped the menu’s down on the table before ensuring she’d be right back.

You knew she was probably lying, no doubt heading into the back to prepare some coffee and cups of water before she’d slip out the back door for a quick cigarette. Well, you assumed so since she stunk of ash and smoke, not that it bothered you. It wasn’t as if the pair of you were in a rush to get back home so you wouldn’t have minded if she climbed into her car and drove off to buy a pack of cigarettes, much less had a quick one in the alley. You frowned softly, realizing that you were lost in your thoughts and analyzing such a small thing. If it weren’t for Eddie’s raised brows and inquisitive stare you probably would’ve remained there, inspecting each person tucked away inside.

You didn’t feel the sleepy droopiness yanking at your stubborn eyelids just yet so you fixed them on your boyfriend. A slow smile pulled at your lips. Unlike you, he did look exhausted. He had forming bags under his eyes that left a visible dark shadow and his chin was propped up in his palm, supporting the weight of it since he didn’t have a pillow to lay on. It wouldn’t matter if he did and it didn’t matter that his eyes begged him to close. He couldn’t find the oblivion that was ordinarily so easy.

“So,” You spoke up as you grabbed ahold of one of the menu’s. Lifting it so you could inspect the muddled words in front of you, your heart sank. The font was small on the plastic, rectangular card. “Shit, i didn’t bring my contacts.”

Eddie’s brows arched at your choice of words before directing his stare toward the menu you clutched. Lifting his arm, he draped it across your shoulders, warm and exposed muscles grazing the softness of the purple blanket you still had draped around your body. “Here, I’ll read it to you.” He mumbled out, voice drowning with tiredness. He grasped one corner of the sheet but instead of dragging it away from you, he slid across the seat so that your bodies were closer together. Staring down at the options, he tried to keep it simple instead of running through a hundred different items. “Do you know sort of what you want?” He inquired, heavy breaths tickling your shoulder and cheek.

You craned you’re neck to the side, lips almost bumping his cheek. “Um.. pancakes.”

“Plain?” He grunted, doing his best to avoid the breaths of yours that tickled his rough skin.

“Plain?” You scoffed. “Are you sure you’re my boyfriend?” Plucking the menu away from him completely, you discarded it back on the clean table before rotating on the squishy cushion to face him.

“Nutella.” He corrected himself, looking in your direction slowly. Even sitting, he was taller than you. His fingertips pressed against your arm firmly, dragging you toward him so that you were forced to meet him in the middle for a gentle kiss.

“Mh, there you go.” You mumbled against his lips, not daring to break it first.

His smile broke the lip lock, teeth on show and therefore forcing your lips to graze his pearly whites. “Nutella is so sticky. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” His eyes were tinted over with amusement. “You’re disgusting.”

“Funny you should say that.. last time I had Nutella smeared on my lips, you licked it off.” Your brows arched in an accusing manner. “So clearly I’m not that disgusting.”

Eddie chuckled under his breath at the memory that formed in his head. Turning toward the little machine perched on the corner of the table, he drew it toward him to rest so he could type in your order. “Two pancakes?” He asked quietly.

Your eyes moved to the screen. The longer you thought about the pancakes, the lesser they seemed to appeal to you. Pursing your lips, you reached out and let your hand cover his own, big eyes squinting. “Nevermind, Baby. I don’t think I’m hungry enough for food.” Your eyes lit up at the beverages. “I think I just want a hot chocolate.”

Eddie turned his head toward your own to inspect you. “Are you sure? We can always bring them home if you don’t eat them all.” He offered.

The table in front of the pair of you blinked, waiting for the order to be placed. Eddie waited for your response, but you were busy scrolling through the lengthy list of flavors that they could add into the hot, creamy, mug of chocolate. You’d grown up hating the cup of goodness. You could hear your mother’s faint voice as she asked you if you were interested in a cup. You’d stick your tongue out in distaste before claiming that it was too sweet for your liking. Now, you drank it so often that Eddie joked at times you should just grow out a mustache — seeing as you typically had a faux chocolate one across your upper lip most mornings.

“No,” You finally spoke up quietly, pressing on a cup of hot chocolate with a cocoa stick and whipped cream. “It’s okay, baby, really. I think I’m just trying to convince myself I’m hungry because we’re here, but i probably wouldn’t even be able to take one bite, I know it.” Kissing his rough, stubbly cheek, you lingered in place before offering the tablet up to him. Eddie was the farthest thing from picky so with a brief inspection of what you’d ordered, he pressed the small ‘1’ that resided beside your drink and changed it to a ‘2’ so he could have the exact same thing.

In the corner of the room, a small computer lit up brightly with your order. You briefly looked in the direction where the quiet ding erupted from before lifting your hand to the back of your boyfriends neck. Giving him your sole attention, you ignored the woman — a different woman than the one who had seated you.

Eddie set his elbow on the table and let a heavy breath of air escape his lips. He was tired, but it seemed that the only time his body was willing to sleep was at the worst times. Now was not the most opportune moment and yet there he sat in the bright diner, chilly air wrapped around his body as he sat in the booth with droopy eyes directed at you.

Your hand lifted to his hair, brushing through the thick strands slowly, smoothing them down. “You know, for a person who couldn’t get any sleep, you sure do look like you’re on the verge of passing out.”

Eddie smirked toward you before leaning in and slowly wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His lips moved to your own, stealing a few soft kisses before he shrunk back against the chair and directed his stare toward the table. “It’s a lot easier to sleep when I’m not suppose to be.” He grunted. “And Venom’s being awfully quiet so that helps too.”

Your eyes searched his for a few moments, wondering silently if the symbiote’s need to talk all night was what kept your boyfriend up at such late hours. “Well we can take our hot chocolate’s to go.” You murmured sleepily. The bright light was beaming down on your sensitive eyes, forcing them to grow droopy just as Eddie’s had. “Maybe we need to start sleeping with our bedroom lights on and our air conditioner on high.”

Eddie chuckled lowly before moving his hand to rest on your upper back. He traced lazy shapes along your skin, over your shirt. “We can stay here. We’ll grow sleepier and sleepier and then when we get home, hopefully we’ll pass out.” He drew you toward him so your head could lay against his broad chest. The sound of his heartbeat comforted you, lulling your droopy eyes to flutter before closing. The pair of you were probably a sight, curled up in the small booth pressed against one another while you waited for your drinks.

Shockingly, it didn’t take long at all before a waitress came sauntering over with a tiny try. She lifted each mug by the warm handles and set them on the table in front of each of you before taking the tablet and setting the screen to check-out. She made sure there was nothing else either of you needed before excusing herself so she could tend to the other tables. Not chocolate must’ve been very popular at this hour because you hadn’t had to wait very long. You lifted your head away from Eddie’s chest, unsurprised to find that it felt so heavy. Peering down at the whipped cream that lined the rim of your mug, you leaned forward and licked the topping before looking toward your boyfriend when he did the exact same. The only difference was that he’d managed to smear some on his nose. You didn’t have a chance to point it out before he lifted his hand to his face and with the back of his wrist, wiped away the smudge. You smiled fondly toward the man before slipping your hand beneath the table and letting your fingertips graze his thigh. It was innocent. A touch just to touch him. But he sent you a side glance either way, inspecting your true intentions for only a moment before his hand lowered to cover your own.

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you. The only sounds present were your occasional giggles when he was messy due to the cream. The hot beverage was soothing on your throat, it made your body internally hot but weirdly comfortable. It was probably because of how cold it was inside the establishment. Eddie leaned his head to the side and let his temple find your shoulder as he continued to sip at the chocolate.

“We should’ve drove.” He finally spoke. His voice was heavy and low. The gruffness of it told you all you needed to know — he didn’t feel like walking. Especially not now, now that his limbs were deadweights and his body was ready to absolutely collapse. He leaned against your body further, arm moving to loop around your waist. You lifted your hand to his hair and began to caress the messy strands. With your free hand, you adjusted the blanket that was draped around you and made it so that it laid across him as well.

“I can get us an uber, baby. Don’t worry about walking.” You assured him. Sending a look toward a waitress in the corner, who’d been gawking at Eddie for what seemed like the second she handed him his hot chocolate, you turned your head and kissed his nose softly. It was the easiest part of him to reach. You were unsurprised when his head tipped and he leaned in for an even better kiss. Your lips pressed to his own for a few seconds before you drew back and pulled your phone from the little zip on the front of your purse. Eddie watched the blinding light from your phone before his eyes slid shut. He could hear the faint tapping of your thumbs as you clicked the little icons and typed in the addresses. Your hot chocolate wasn’t even close to being finished though, so before confirming the ride, you set your phone on the table so it would be ready when the pair of you were.

As you sipped your got chocolate, indulging in pointless conversation every now and then, Eddie remained slumped against you with his mouth hanging partially open and his eyes closed completely. It was only when you were in the middle of discussing the strangeness about chocolate being able to rock them to sleep that you heard a faint, little snore leave his lips. Your head turned, inspecting the big, sleepy bear. Your heart tightened and a little smile graced your lips. You figured you could get his hot chocolate to go, but he wouldn’t drink it cold and he’d insist it didn’t taste the same if he warmed it up. You reached around his body for the little screen on the ledge and pulled your wallet from your pocket so you could pay for the drinks.

Eddie’s body followed your shoulder wherever it went and when you began to squirm to get back in your regular position, he sleepily wrapped his arms around your body more securely. You could tell, with each passing second, that he was falling deeper and deeper asleep. So the guilt that pooled in your stomach seemed to instantly swallow you whole.

How the hell were you going to wake him up and get him to the uber?

He was finally sleeping.

The envy that flooded you intertwined with the guilt though and as you felt the reluctance to wake him, you also felt the desire to join him. Your hands fell to his hard shoulders, squeezing them tenderly before your thumb mashed the ‘confirm’ button on your phone. You supposed you could let him sleep until the headlights rolled up outside. Tilting your head so that it rested against his own, you let your eyes flutter just for the time being. The driver was still 8 minutes away, so you figured it would be okay to just rest your eyes.

The waitress in the corner lifted a brow. The pair of you definitely were a sight. Sitting in a booth, laid against one another with a frilly blanket draped around you. The glow from your phone pulled her gaze to the glass door, peering outside. She wasn’t stupid. Loads of people came to the diner at all hours in the morning. You weren’t the first couple to fall asleep while waiting for your ride, and you wouldn’t be the last. She crept up to the table and cleaned the dishes off the surface before making her way back to the counter. Along with waitressing and clean up duty, she also considered herself to be an alarm clock — for she would wonder over and wake any slumbering customers when their lifts had arrived. She slumped against the wall and waited patiently, arms folding over her chest and big green eyes sliding along the darkness that kissed the windows. Patience seemed to be a necessity — a requirement for this job. She was lucky she had plenty.

———————————————————————

A/N: I know this is shitty and very simple, but I’ve gotta her back into it 🥺💞 thank you so much for your patience!!

[isnt-it-loverly]

little birdie (3)//five hargreeves

Warnings: blood, poorly written fight scenes

Summary: When Five lands in the Sparrow Academy, he must convince one of them to help him reset the timeline. 

Word count: 1600

Author note: super short and not the best. This week i got some pretty rough news so updates may not happen as often as I want them too. I do have a plan and its officially going to be a series now! I’m going to try to get an update out at least once a week. Thanks again for all the love on the first two parts it means a lot!!

Part one, Part two , Part four, Part Five

There was a loud bang that awoke Five from his restless slumber. He grumbled groggily as it felt like he had just fallen asleep. He wondered what the hell you were doing out there. There was another crash and Five decided that it’d be best to check on you. Pulling himself out of bed was hard as he was now incredibly sore. He half expected the door to be locked again, he was wrong. Another one of your flaws, he noted, you were far too trusting. 

He pulled the door open quietly as to not to give himself away if there was trouble. Unfortunately, his fears were confirmed. Ben has you pinned to the wall, tentacle around your neck, and hand over your eyes. 

“Where are they, I know you’re helping them!” He yelled. Five watched silently as he watched you struggle, trying to pry yourself out of your brother’s grip. He gulped in fear that you would break and tell Ben all that you knew. 

“I- I don’t know,” you choked out. You were trying everything to get him to let go. Kicking, squirming and digging your nails into his skin. 

“You’re lying, I know you didn’t go on patrol yesterday. You’ve been spending a lot of time down here. Something you do when you’re hiding something,” Ben snarled. He squeezed harder and you felt all the breath leave your lungs. You gasped and coughed trying to get any air at all. Five grumbled to himself, knowing full well what he had to do. At least now you two will be even. 

“Hey asshole,” Five yelled with a cheeky grin, “looking for me?” 

“I knew you were lying, you little bitch,” Ben growled as he quite literally threw you across the room. You felt like all the air had been knocked out of you, and there was a high pitched ringing in your ears. You looked to Five but there was nothing but black dots dancing across your vision. You decided it might be best to give yourself a minute for everything to stop spinning.

Five looked to you worriedly, you definitely had taken a beating. This version of Ben was much more ruthless than his, and if he was being frank, it kind of scared the shit out of him- especially in his weakened state. He flashed in front of Ben and landed a punch square in his jaw. The Horror stumbled back, surprised that such a little guy packed such a powerful hit.

“Your family will be dead by nightfall, too bad you won’t be there to see it,” Ben roared before releasing the beast within him. A tentacle reached for Five, but he blinked out of the way. However one managed to strike him down

, and another pinned him into a wall. He looked down to see the blood seeping through the clean shirt you had given him, shit this was not good. He heard his brother yell out in pain and the grasp on him loosened. There you were, arms wrapped around Ben’s neck and bringing him to the ground. Five watched in amazement as you fought, it was like you were dancing. He was impressed, you were amazingly trained- even by the commission’s standards.   

Going toe to toe against your brother was not a simple task, especially when he had a giant octopus monster coming out of his stomach. All you could do was dodge his swings until you could get close enough. You manage a kick right into his jaw, and you watched with pride as he stumbled back with a bloody lip. You felt guilty for doing this. All over a boy, you had met less than a day ago. There was truth behind Five’s words, you knew that the apocalypse was coming and that your family was the spark that ignited it. You knew the consequences, you had to get him back to the umbrellas, whatever the cost. You landed another hit before that royally pissed him off. He came rushing at you, right into your trap. You knew that he’d be blinded by rage. Ben grabbed you by the neck and hoisted you into the air. 

“Rookie mistake,” You muttered while looking directly into his eyes. Just like that, it was over, Your dimwitted brother was much easier to take over than Five. In Number One’s body, you carefully set yourself down. You looked over to Five and rushed to his side.

“(Y/n), please tell me that’s you because I really don’t think I have it in me to kick his ass at the moment,” Five muttered clutching his stomach. You grimaced and you lifted his hand to see the fresh blood. You don’t know why but you hated to see him in pain.

“I’ll fix you up, but not here. It won’t take long for them to realize Number One has gone missing,” you explained while helping Five his feet. He looked exhausted and you were determined to keep him safe. Nothing was going to happen to him on your watch. 

“Now,” you looked Five dead in the eyes, “how hard can you punch?

“What?” He responded with a quizzical look on his face. 

“Like on a scale of one to one hundred, what would you say?” You asked with a small smirk. 

“I don’t know, 94?” He replied. 

“Perfect! I need you to knock me out,” You instructed nonchalantly. 

“Fine by me, but it’s not gonna hurt you right? I’m punching Ben not (Y/n),” Five questioned as he prepared his stance. 

You nodded to let him know that it was okay. Sure you’d feel it but he didn’t have to know that, besides a little white lie never hurt anyone. Five really went for it, all the angry built up in one hit. You stumbled back, closing your eyes tight. When you opened them you found yourself back in your own body and Number One splayed on the ground.

“Ninety-four my ass, that was like a 200,” You complained. You rubbed your jaw slightly trying to ease away the pain that had transferred over. Five mumbled a small apology. You just shook your head and rolled your eyes. 

“Come on,” you said in a hushed tone, “sleeping beauty won’t stay down forever.”

You pulled him along as fast as the both of you could move. You were definitely sore, two big fights in the span of 24 hours was draining. Rest was not a luxury either of you could afford right now. Slipping out of the basement and into the corridor, head whipping as you did. The coast appeared to be clear. Before you could move Five pulled you into his chest, with a hand over your mouth. 

“Now, I’m gonna trust you. Which I don’t normally do. If, for even a second, I think you’re gonna double cross me and my family- I will kill you,” He whispered in your ear harshly. You pulled his hand away gently and looked into his eyes,

You could tell he was searching your face for any signs of deception but he wouldn’t find any. All he could see was a severely pissed off (Y/n).

“If I wanted you dead, I would’ve let bleed out the first time my brother kicked your ass,” You snapped back. You pulled away in anger, after all you did for that little shit. If any of your siblings found you, they’d kill you- didn’t he realize that you were on his side. That you had already lost everything to reset the timeline and stop an apocalypse that may not even happen. You looked around the corner again and signaled for him to move. He followed you closely before grabbing your shoulder. 

“Hold onto me tight,” He instructed. You did as you you were told and held on to his arm for dear life knowing exactly what he was about to do. Five did a quick run forward and suddenly the both of you were outside in the courtyard. You covered your mouth and bit your lip to keep from vomiting everywhere. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you groaned. 

 “You can do that after we’re far away from the academy,” Five said in a hurried tone. He grabbed your wrist and begun pulling you along into the street. To be honest, most everything looked the same to Five. All of the shops were the same, the people looked normal, nothing except the academy was out of place. 

“Do you know where West Street is? There’s a place where we can hide out. Its safe, I promise. Clean clothes and fresh food too,” You asked with hope in your voice. 

“There's no time for comfort, Ben knows where my family is. We have to find them first,” Five said with determination. 

“He was bluffing, I checked. They have no leads,” You confirmed, “ and on top of that, two kids in bloody clothes will raise too many questions.”

Five looked at you wearily, You hadn't lied to him so far so why would you start now. He knew that you were right about your appearances, they’d be a dead give away. He sighed in defeat and told you he knew the way. You smiled and slipped your shades on, ready to take on the next chapter of this adventure. 

“Here,” You said while slipping off your blazer. You handed it to Five and he gave you a quizzical look. 

“To cover up the blood, you look like Carrie after the prom,” You joked. Five slipped it on, it was snug yet it felt very familiar. The material was the same as his old one, just red. He sighed and ran his hand over the emblem, that bird did not belong there. You noticed his discomfort but decided not to press it. The faster you got to West Street, the better life would be for the two of you. 

[callboxkat]

Second Chances: Slumber Party

Author’s note: It’s been a while, but guess who finally has some free time to write? I hope you enjoy! :)

Summary:  Roman goes on a quest for a glass of water in the middle of the night, and  finds Patton sleeping on the sofa.

Warnings: Insecurity, nightmares/intrusive thoughts, past homelessness, food mentions, white lies

Word count: 2588

Second Chances Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

Roman stretched and let out a big yawn as he walked down the hall to his room.

Today at the café had been difficult, to say the least, and he was tired, even though he’d gotten home hours ago. He hadn’t even been meant to go in today, but there had been a bit of an incident. The fridge had gone out while it was just Virgil and Thomas working, and Roman had been called in as back up. Since it couldn’t be fixed right away, they’d decided to sell everything refrigerated at a sharp discount, and once word got out, the crowd in the shop quickly became alarming. Thomas had eventually needed to tap out and go home, apparently worn out by all the chaos. So then Roman and Virgil had been left to try to sell as much of their stuff as possible before it could no longer be sold. The throng of customers was eager for cheap goodies, although some of them didn’t seem to understand why the unrefrigerated menu items that they weren’t racing against the clock to sell were still full price. Which, yeah, Roman could understand that it was strange for a cappuccino to be cheaper than an americano. But the coffee and water would have still been usable at the end of the day

He passed the other two bedrooms as he shuffled along, remembering the events of the day. From Val’s, he could hear quiet music—he’d noticed she liked to put on classic rock before she went to sleep—while from Logan’s and Patton’s, he could hear the sound of dresser drawers opening and shutting. They were probably still getting ready for bed.

Roman opened the door to his room and stepped inside, not bothering to turn on the light. He put away his toothbrush and toothpaste, toed off his socks, and crawled into bed. He reached to set an alarm, only to be struck with the happy realization that he didn’t need to, since the café would be closed the next day due to the refrigerator incident.

Smiling at the thought of getting to sleep in, Roman snuggled down into the bed and closed his eyes.

…

Roman rolled over and stretched, opening his eyes.

2:24, read the alarm clock.

He still had plenty of time to sleep and still get up at a socially acceptable time, but… Roman licked his lips and frowned. His mouth was a little dry.

Reluctant to leave the soft bed, but also unable to ignore his parched mouth now that he’d foolishly let himself become aware of it, Roman let out a quiet moan of complaint and sat up, pushing the blanket to the side. He got up, grabbed his socks, and padded to the door, hopping a little to pull them on as he went.

He opened the door quietly and left it slightly ajar for when he returned. The fewer noises he made, the better, in his opinion. Roman tended to be a heavy sleeper, but he knew not everyone in the house was, and he didn’t want to disturb them.

He crept down the hall and then the stairs, heading into the kitchen without turning the lights on, since there was still enough light to see. He opened a cabinet for a glass and then filled it at the sink, wincing at how loud the water seemed in the quiet of night, and doing his best to minimize the noise. He took a couple of sips of the water, then refilled what he’d drunk of the glass, and turned to go back to bed.

As he walked through the living room, he heard a quiet “mmph?” and then a shape on the couch sat up.

Roman jumped slightly in surprise, then slowed to a halt, squinting in bewilderment. “Pat?”

Patton turned around and looked at him, blinking drowsily, his hair rumpled in a bed head. “Oh… hi, Roman,” he said, sounding tired. “What’re you doing down here?”

Was he sleeping on the sofa? Roman frowned, seeing the pillows and blankets that Patton must have brought down from his and Logan’s room.

Roman held up the glass so Patton could see. “I got thirsty,” he explained.

“Oh,” said Patton. “I guess that was the sink, I heard, then.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Did something happen?” Roman asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but… did you and Logan have a fight?”

“Huh?” Patton shook his head. “No, no, me and Lo are fine. I just….” He didn’t seem to know what to say.

Roman shifted. “Late movie night?” he offered, to give Patton an out.

Patton didn’t take it. The poor guy hated to lie. “No,” he said. He sat up a little straighter. “Uh, Logan and I just decided this would be better for tonight. We didn’t fight, it’s just… it’s complicated.”

Roman couldn’t think of many reasons why Patton would be sleeping on the sofa, if they hadn’t fought. Patton had definitely gone to bed in his and Logan’s room, so it wasn’t as if he’d just decided not to go upstairs. Roman was also pretty sure neither of them snored, so that didn’t explain it either.

Patton was looking a little flustered. “Please don’t—Logan didn’t do anything. It’s nobody’s fault, he just….”

He thought Roman would be mad at Logan, he realized.

Roman held up a hand. “Hey, like I said, it’s none of my business,” he said, carefully choosing a light tone. “I won’t pry. But, Pat… you don’t have to be on the couch. There’s the bed upstairs.”

Patton furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

“You could have woken me up,” Roman clarified. “I don’t mind.”

“What? No, Roman, that’s your room. I’m not going to steal it from you.”

Right, Roman thought. “It was your room first,” he shrugged, anyway.

It was dark, but he was pretty sure that was a fondly exasperated expression on Patton’s face. “It’s your room,” he repeated firmly.

Roman shifted again. “Okay, well… I still don’t want to make you stay on the couch.”

“You’re not making me,” Patton said, shaking his head. “I’m fine here. You should just go back to bed, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Roman took a hesitant step towards the stairs, but continued to hover. “…I really don’t feel comfortable taking a bed while you’re on the couch,” he admitted. He honestly didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, knowing that.

Patton, who had started to lie back down, paused, and looked over at Roman, who rubbed one of his arms.

“Please take the bed?”

Patton took him in for a long moment, sat up again, and said, “Well, I don’t really feel comfortable taking the bed while you’re on the couch, either, kiddo.”

Roman sighed, looking down at his water glass. A few seconds ticked by. He took an awkward sip of water.

“…It’s a decent-sized bed in there,” Patton said finally. “I guess we could share, if you’re okay with that.”

“Wouldn’t Logan be upset?”

Patton shook his head. “No, he won’t care. It’s just a bed. And he knows I love him.”

Roman nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”

He and Patton scooped up the pillows and blankets and headed up to Roman’s room, both doing their best to be quiet on the stairs and in the hall. While Val was actually the lighter sleeper, Roman couldn’t help but notice that Patton tried even harder to be quiet when they passed Logan’s room.

“Any preference on which side I take?” Patton asked, once Roman had closed the bedroom door.

“Um… right side, maybe?” Roman suggested, since he’d been sleeping on the left side before going on his quest. He set down his glass of water on the nightstand. “But either’s fine.”

Patton nodded and put down his pillows and blankets there, arranging them before he got into the bed. Roman hesitated before also lying down.

“I’m sorry about this,” Patton said softly once they were both situated, turning so he was facing Roman.

“It’s okay,” Roman replied. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Logan tried to take the couch, too,” Patton admitted with a little smile, his eyes already closed. He yawned. “He felt really bad. But I fought him off.”

“I knew you could take that little nerd.”

Patton’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh. “He’s not a nerd.”

“I mean it in a good way. But also… have you met him?”

“I sure hope so, he’s my boyfriend.”

Roman laughed quietly. “Fair enough.” A beat passed. “Thanks again for giving me a ride to the café today, by the way. I think Virgil would have lost it if they’d had to wait for me to walk there. And thanks for the ride back, too. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It was no bother. And Virgil seems nice.”

Roman smirked. “They can be, when they want to be.”

Patton cracked open an eyelid, smiling a little at him.

“So… want me to braid your hair?” Roman whispered. “Since we’re having a slumber party.”

Patton giggled quietly. “I would let you if it was long enough.”

“Guess you’ll have to grow it out, then. You can join the man bun trend.”

Patton sounded amused, even as sleepiness bled into his voice. “Oh, gosh, can you imagine?”

“Or Viking braids,” Roman suggested. “You could put beads in them and everything. Really go all out.”

“I don’t know if that’s really my style.”

“Maybe not.”

Patton yawned. “We could paint each other’s nails. That’s a slumber party thing.”

“I used to paint my nails in high school,” Roman shared. His nails looked rather rough, now, though. It had been a while since he even held a nail file.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Gold, usually.”

Patton’s eyes were closed again. “I think Val has some that color. She’d probably let you use it. I don’t think she wears it much.”

“Hm.” Roman would think about it.

They lay there for a few moments. Roman adjusted himself so he was lying more on his stomach than his side, and let out a small sigh.

“G’night,” Patton mumbled sleepily.

“Good night.”

When Roman woke in the morning, Patton was already gone, along with his pillows and blankets. Roman suspected his own blanket had been pulled up a little higher. There was a note on the bedside table that just read, Thanks for the slumber party  -P.

Roman glanced at the clock, and then climbed out of bed himself. He got showered and dressed, and then went downstairs.

He’d expected to have the house to himself for most of the day, since Val and Logan had work and Patton had plans, so he was surprised to see Logan at the kitchen table, a half full mug of tea in front of him.

Logan looked up as Roman approached, and for a second he froze, like a deer in headlights.

Roman smiled easily at the other man. “Hey, Logan,” he said.

Logan blinked, and there was a soft, nearly inaudible whir. Roman glanced down to see that Logan was quietly spinning a black ring on his right hand. He’d seen the other man wearing the ring, occasionally, but usually he left it alone.

“Good morning,” Logan said, looking less panicked, but still unsure.

Roman walked over to fridge and grabbed an orange. He returned to the table and started peeling it. “Got plans for today?” he asked. “I thought you had work.”

“I did,” Logan said. He stopped spinning his ring and took a drink of his tea. “I decided to stay home, today. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

Logan nodded vaguely.

Roman popped one of the orange slices in his mouth. He liked to eat fruit slowly, to make it last longer, so he could really appreciate it. It was a habit he’d started when he was homeless, but he kept it now, seeing no reason to change it.

Logan cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. He didn’t quite look  at Roman as he said, “Patton told me you allowed him to stay in your room last night.”

Roman paused, halfway through separating another orange slice. “I just thought it’d be more comfortable than the sofa.”

“Thank you for that.”

Roman shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I’ve stayed in shelters that were way more crowded, and Patton doesn’t snore or try to steal my things. We just made some jokes about having a slumber party.”

“…I’m not sure what explanation he offered you,” Logan said hesitantly.

Roman shrugged. “He didn’t really say. I thought maybe he fell asleep watching The Office or something, and didn’t want to wake you to go to bed. I used to do stuff like that. My mamá would get so annoyed if she found me. She’d tell me I was gonna get scoliosis and make me go to bed.” Roman did not actually believe that; but he was also pretty sure that whatever the real reason Patton had been sleeping on the sofa was not his business, if Logan didn’t want to share it.

Logan spun his ring twice, then stopped.

“I appreciate your help,” he said. “It is reassuring, to know Patton wasn’t too inconvenienced.”

“It’s no problem. I’m always down for a slumber party.”

It was clear that Logan didn’t want to say more on the subject, and Roman certainly wasn’t going to push him, but Logan cleared his throat anyway. “I suppose I owe you some explanation.”

“Not if you don’t want to. I don’t think you owe me anything,” Roman said. He popped another orange slice in his mouth.

Logan glanced at him. He raised the mug of tea to his lips, then set it down without taking a drink. “Regardless….”  He considered his next words, his face reddened lightly. “I am… occasionally prone to certain intrusive thoughts. They are unwanted, and do not reflect my own desires. They are unpleasant every time they occur, but last night’s was… especially unsettling. It… involved Patton becoming injured.”

Roman could read between the lines. “Okay.”

“My apologies if I disturbed you. I became rather upset, and unfortunately did not think to lower my volume. Val came in to check on us. I assume you decided to stay in your room, which… I appreciate.”

“I didn’t hear you, actually,” Roman said. “Guess I was pretty tired, after the coffee shop thing. And I probably stayed up too late.”

Logan looked briefly skeptical, then rather relieved to hear it. “I requested that we sleep separately, for my own anxiety. I had intended to be the one to leave, but Patton can be rather insistent.”

Roman nodded.

“I hope you do not think less of me because of this,” Logan said. “I try not to be swayed so easily by my emotions, but—”

Roman waived a hand, dismissing Logan’s justifications. “It’s fine. It’s okay to be human sometimes, you know.”

Logan tapped his fingers on his mug. A few moments passed.

“So, do you want to hear about the Great Refrigerator Disaster of the Sanders Café?” Roman asked. He’d told a condensed version of the story the night before, at dinner, and Patton had seen the chaos first hand, but Roman hadn’t told Logan all the juicy details yet, which was frankly shameful on his part.

Logan smiled despite himself, and latched onto the change in subject. “That does sound like a story I would enjoy.”

[snelbz]

The Ranch {13}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

It was way too early for Cassian’s alarm to be going off, if he couldn’t remember anything from Rhysand’s wedding.

Fuck, his head killed. And his chest. And, shit, his entire body.

He realized the beeping wasn’t his alarm at the same moment he remembered what had happened.

With a sputtering cough, Cassian woke up and groaned.

He was in a hospital room, lying on a cot. His body was hooked up to monitors, so many things wrapped around him and poked through his skin that he wasn’t sure what they all were. He wore a hospital gown and a thin blanket was draped over his legs.

Every inch of his body throbbed.

He tried to say something, but nothing came out.

He slowly turned his head to one side. An empty chair sat there. Then he turned his head to the left, where Feyre and Rhysand laid together on a couch. 

It was their fucking wedding night, and it was being spent covered in his blood, laying on a shitty couch.

“Rhys,” he said, but his voice was quiet. He tried, again. “Rhys!”

Rhys’ eyes fluttered open, and after a second, they focused on him. “Cass, shit. Are you okay?”

Cassian’s eyes found the bottle of water on the low table in front of Rhys.

“Shit,” he breathed. He kissed the top of Feyre’s head, shaking her lightly. “Baby, wake up, Cass is awake.”

She was up, blinking rapidly. “Cass!” Her eyes immediately welled with tears.

Rhys stood, opening the water bottle and carefully giving Cass a drink.

He cleared his throat and said, voice rasping, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Feyre sat on the edge of the cot and took Cassian’s hand gently in hers. “For what? Are you kidding me?”

“I ruined your day,” he said, eyes closing as his fingers wrapped around Feyre’s. 

“The only person at fault is Tamlin,” Feyre breathed, wiping her tears away. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

Her voice broke on the last word, causing Cassian to open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile. “You can’t get rid of me yet.”

A laugh bubbled out of Feyre as Rhysand said, “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Cassian looked at his best friend, at the guilt plainly written there and he shook his head. “No need. You’d do the same for me. Besides, who knew that asshole would pull out a fucking gun?”

Cassian tried to sit up but cringed, his whole body full of shooting pain as he decided to just stay put. 

“Just rest,” Feyre said, gently.

“Is Nesta here?” Cassian asked.

Feyre frowned, but it was Rhysand that said, “She’s in the room across the hall.”

Cassian stilled. “What? Why? What happened?”

“She was just dehydrated,” Feyre said, her hand still in Cassian’s. “Apparently she’d been puking her guts up all day yesterday. Which makes sense, I guess, but I had no idea. I should have been paying closer attention. If I knew, I would have made her relax.”

“She was puking?” Cassian asked, then looked at Feyre with a confused expression. “Why would that make sense? Make sense of what?”

A panic look formed in Feyre’s gray-blue eyes. “What?”

Cassian slowly took his hand out of Feyre’s. “You know something.”

“I do not,” she protested, crossing her arms.

Cassian slowly looked from Feyre to Rhys. “Why is your wife lying to me?”

But Rhys wasn’t looking at Cassian, his head was in his hands. Feyre said, “I’m so sorry, it slipped out. I’m just so tired, and it was such a shock that-.”

“What is going on?” Cassian demanded, grunting as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Why was Nesta admitted? Is she okay?”

Rhys sighed. “They suggested we not tell you yet. The bullet missed your heart by millimeters, Cass. Any lower, and you wouldn’t be here. For that reason, they don’t want you dealing with any stressful situations and-.”

“Nesta’s pregnant.”

Rhys turned to glare at his wife, who shrugged, but Cassian only blinked once, twice, processing. He shook his head slowly, saying, “We can’t have kids. Nesta can’t have kids.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but the words were distant to his own ears. “She told me she can’t conceive.”

“I know,” Feyre said, quietly. “She was told she couldn’t, Cass, but they ran the test and she’s pregnant.”

Cassian's lips snapped shut as a thousand different emotions flooded through his body. “I just… I don’t… I need to see her. Help me up.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rhysand said, shaking his head. “You were just fucking shot.”

“Don’t care,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “I-.”

“I’ll get her,” Feyre said. “Just...stay put. Alright? She’s in shock enough as it is, both from what happened and finding out….” Feyre’s words trailed off, exhaustion making her shoulders slump. “Just rest, and I’ll be back.”

Feyre slipped out the door and left Cassian and Rhys alone. “I’ll have Az get some clothes and whatever else you’ll need and bring them over to the house so we don’t have to stop on the way home.”

Cassian was only half listening. “What? No, I’m not staying with you.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are. You were shot in the chest less than 24 hours ago.”

“I can’t leave the ranch,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To him, it was. “And I’m sure as shit not leaving my pregnant girlfriend there by herself.”

“Cassian, don’t be a dumbass, you can’t-.”

“No, don’t try that shit. You’d be doing the same thing, if the roles were reversed, and you know it.”

Rhysand scowled but didn’t correct him. “I’m the one with medical experience. Nesta’s not-.”

“She can handle a list of instructions, Rhys,” Cassian muttered. “And I can take care of myself.”

Rhysand’s head fell back, exasperated. “Stubborn ass.”

“Prick,” Cassian mumbled back. A moment passed before Cassian said, “If I need you, I’ll call. Besides, you just got married and have dealt with enough shit. I’m not intruding.”

“It’s not intruding if-.” He saw the look on Cassian’s face and sighed. “Fine,” Rhysand said. “But I’m not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m aware,” Cassian said, but now he was grinning, just a little bit.

That grin faded quickly, though, as Cassian looked at the empty doorway, waiting for Nesta to walk through it.

Rhys asked, “Are you okay?”

Cassian knew he wasn’t asking about the gunshot wound. He didn’t answer for a minute because he didn’t know. “I just… I don’t know.” He dragged his good hand down his face. “You don’t think she lied to me, do you?”

Rhys was shaking his head before the question was out. “No, she wouldn’t do that. But also…” Rhys had the decency to look at least somewhat guilty. “I might have had Viv pull her file and I looked through her medical history. She was diagnosed as ‘infertile’ at twenty-two, at a women’s clinic in France.”

Cassian knew he should be pissed at Rhys for the invasion of privacy, but at least knowing that Nesta hadn’t lied to him eased some of the panic he felt rising.

He nodded, slightly. A minute later, Feyre came back into the room, a pale Nesta behind her. One look at Cassian and her eyes were misty.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Rhysand muttered, taking Feyre’s hand and escorting her out.

Nesta didn’t say a word as she walked to the side of the bed and plopped down in the chair that Feyre had been sitting in.

He turned to look at her, doing his best to hide the pain on his face whenever he moved his left arm. Or the left side of his body. Or his entire body.

“Tell the truth,” he said, wishing she would look at him, instead of at her bare feet on the floor. “Am I sexier now that I’m a hero?” She laughed, but it sounded more like a sob and when she looked up at him, there were tears running down her face. His voice was soft. “Baby…”

“I was so scared I was going to lose you,” she cried, unable to stop the rough, body-shaking sobs.

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Hey.”

She looked up, eyes red, and she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, cringing as he pulled her into him. She was gentle, careful for the wound as she buried her face into his neck.

“Feyre said she let it slip,” Nesta said, words muddled against his skin. “But I’m too shocked to be pissed, even though my reaction should be to kick her little ass.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, keeping perfectly still as his arm slid around her. Every ounce of his body cried to call for the nurse and get more pain meds in his system, but he’d wait. “Nesta-.”

“I promise I didn’t know,” Nesta said, voice quiet. “I promise I was told, years ago, that I couldn’t get pregnant, Cass.”

She leaned back and he caught the genuine fear in her eyes. He felt ashamed for doubting her, even for a second.

“I know,” he breathed. “I trust you.”

“I…” she sighed, shaking her head, her words falling short. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, taking her chin gently in his hand and forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m not mad. Shocked, completely fucking shocked...but I’m not mad.” 

They sat there for a moment, looking at each other, not saying a word. Neither of them had said it yet, but they were both thinking it.

“We’re having a baby,” Nesta breathed.

Cassian took a deep breath and nodded. “We’re having a baby.”

She could see he tried his hardest not to, but the grin was infectious. She began to smile as well. The tears slowed, but didn’t stop.

“I’m scared,” she said, voice small.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing the wild wisps of hair out of her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m going to be there, every step of the way. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

She nodded.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he went on, that low voice soothing. “I’m scared, too.”

She met his gaze with a wistful smile. For a moment, neither of them said a word, but then Nesta frowned. “What the fuck are you doing? Lie back down. Does the nurse even know you’re awake?”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “I am lying down.”

“All the way, against the pillows,” she ordered, already on her feet to reach for the remote on the side of his bed. She pressed the nurse call button.

He groaned. “Nes, I’m fine, they’ll probably release me today and-.”

“You took a round to the chest!” She said, voice rising. 

She didn’t want to cry anymore, but damn it, every time she closed her eyes, she would see him lying in his own blood. “You have to take it easy,” she said, after taking a deep breath. She placed a protective hand over her still flat stomach. “We both do. Doctor’s orders.”

Cassian’s jaw locked, but he nodded, nonetheless. “Fine.”

The door swung open and the nurse came in. She gave Cassian a bright smile. “Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” Cassian said, that grin returning.

The nurse chuckled. “Well, the doctor is allowing you to go home today. He has prescribed you pain meds and wants to make sure you don’t live alone.”

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but Nesta was already saying, “He doesn’t.” 

“Good,” the nurse said, taking Cassian’s vitals. “You’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. I’ve made you a follow up appointment for next week. Other than that, no physical activity of any kind. Your doctor will tell you more at your follow-up, but until then, rest as much as possible. Even if the meds are working really good and you feel like getting up and doing stuff...don’t.”

“I guess now is a bad time to mention I run a ranch,” he said, opening and closing his left fist, trying to get used to the sling he’d woken up in.

Nesta’s eyebrows rose at his words, but she said nothing. 

The nurse chuckled and scribbled something on a clipboard, tucking it back into its slot at the end of the bed. “Well, I’d say it’s time to look into hiring a ranch hand.”

She left without another word and Cassian mumbled, “I am the ranch hand.”

“Azriel and Rhysand said they’ll help,” Nesta said, when they were alone. “And my sisters. And I’ll help, too.”

“You’re pregnant,” Cassian said.

“Pregnant, not useless,” Nesta shot back. “I can still help.”

Cassian sighed, nodding. “I know, I just… I can’t just sit back and relax.”

“It’s only temporary,” Nesta said.

Cassian took a moment to think about all the things he did every day. Sure, with the five of them, it should be fine. But they all four had real world jobs, with real world schedules. Well, all but Rhys. His would change every few weeks, depending on who’s rotation he was on. And the rolls of hay he fed the horses, those weighed damn near seven or eight hundred pounds, and that’s if they were bone dry. The image of Elain and Feyre trying desperately to move a sopping wet, heavy roll of hay made him chuckle.

Nesta looked at him and he sighed. “Having a ranch hand around might not be a bad idea, but only until I’m healed.” He carefully pressed a hand to his bandaged chest and winced. “But it’s only temporary,” he said, repeating Nesta’s words.

“Exactly,” she whispered. “Now, let’s get you home.”

Rhysand came in with a bag of clothes Azriel had brought. Once he was dressed and discharged, the whole bloodied crew walked out into the early evening light. Even though they all had changed and were no longer covered in Cassian’s blood, they all needed a serious shower. Nesta could still feel the dried blood in strands of her hair. 

Feyre and Rhysand dropped them off at the ranch and into Nesta’s little house. She was going to take him to the main house and into the master bedroom, but the thought of all those stairs had Cassian cringing.  

So he helped himself, despite everyone’s protests, up the three steps of the front porch and through the front door, then into Nesta’s bedroom, where he slowly laid back against the blankets.

“Call if you need anything,” Feyre said, only for Rhysand to repeat the statement. She promised she would then they were off. 

Cassian had already fallen asleep, Beau now laying at his feet, when Nesta padded into the washroom for a shower.

She turned the water on, turning the handle as far to the left as it would do, and waited until steam poured out over the frosted glass door and stepped in. Nesta hissed as the stream hit her back, scalding her, but also making her feel...something.

The last couple of days had been some of the worst of Nesta’s life.  She had moments where she couldn’t breathe, where she could barely find the strength to keep going. Especially when she had no idea where Cassian’s life sat in limbo.

She leaned her forehead against the tile, doing her best to quiet the sob that tore from her. She had done her best to be strong while they were at the hospital. The only time she’d cried was in the waiting room and when she finally got to see that Cassian was alive and well.

And when she’d found out she was pregnant.

She’d stared at Elain, not sure if she’d heard her right, but when she repeated herself, and showed Nesta the positive pregnancy test on her scans, Nesta had started sobbing.

She’d cried because she was scared. She had no idea how to bring a child into the world, only that it hurt like hell. She’d cried because she had no idea how Cassian was going to respond. This wasn’t planned, it was the opposite. This was unexpected. She’d cried because she was shocked. She didn’t even know what to say, no words could encompass how she felt.

But mostly, she cried because she was so, so happy.

With her forehead pressed against the tile wall, Nesta pressed a protective hand over her stomach, no sign of the precious life showing inside.

She was going to be a mother.

To Cassian's child.

Cassian, who she loved, who almost left the world far too soon.

It was so incredibly overwhelming.

She stayed in the shower until her eyes dried, until there were no tears left to cry. She stayed until the water turned lukewarm and she no longer felt Cassian's blood on her skin. She stayed until she was yawning, until she longed for her own bed, lying next to him.

The water turned off and she got out and dried off before walking back into her bedroom, where Cassian laid, scrolling through his phone.

The second she walked across the threshold, his eyes raked over her naked body. Then, he said, eyes narrowed, “You were crying.”

Nesta didn’t deny it, but she walked to the other side of her bed, where her dresser was. “It’s been a long few days.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, quietly. “Hey, come here.”

Nesta slipped on her panties before walking over to her bedside and falling onto her bed, next to Cassian. He watched her with soft, gentle eyes.

“You know you can talk to me, truthfully, about anything, right?” He asked, quietly.

“Of course.” She was thankful that months of sleeping next to each other had already obligated their sides of the bed. She was also thankful that his side was the left side, allowing her to carefully curl into his side, throw her leg over his hips and snuggle into his neck. “I’m just…processing.”

“Processing is okay,” he mumbled, turning her lips to his. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“I am,” she said, or will be, she thought.

Sleep.

She needed sleep.

It wasn’t five minutes later that she drifted into a deep, unyielding sleep. She slept perfectly, dreamless, which after the last few days, she welcomed a peaceful night.

She awoke, feeling rested, the next morning, thanks to the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and Beau hopping off the foot of the bed.

Nesta still laid in her panties, a thin blanket tossed over her, but she was completely alone. She shot up, panic setting in.

“Cassian?” She called, knowing full well that she was being frantic, but didn’t care, not after all that had happened.

“Calm down,” he said, deep voice floating into the bedroom. “I’m taking a piss.”

With a relieved sigh, Nesta fell back against the pillows.

He gripped the door frame as he appeared, slowly making his way back into the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

She was immediately up, rounding the bed and wrapping her arm around his good side. She took as much of his weight as she could, which wasn’t much. “I’m fine. You should have asked for help.”

“I’ve been using the bathroom by myself for twenty-seven years,” he said, groaning as she helped him settle back into the pillows. “I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re recovering from a bullet in your chest now, so that changes things.” She leveled a look at him and grabbed one of his ratty, old t-shirts from his designated drawer in the dresser. She padded down the hall towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make coffee, do you want some?”

“Please.” He yawned and froze, grabbing for his phone. “Shit, what time is it?”

Nesta’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Quarter after eight. We slept hard.”

He didn’t reply, because he was reading the text messages on his phone.

When she came back, mugs in hand, she still found him reading. “Everything okay?” He didn’t answer. She hurried to him, setting their coffees on the nightstand and sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. “Cassian, what is it?”

He blinked. “They… they took care of everything.”

She softly smiled. “They said they would.”

It was still surprising though. Thank the cauldron Rhys had worked for Isaac as well all those years ago, and that he knew not only what he was doing, but where everything was kept. He was also very thankful that Isaac had instilled the same work ethic into Feyre and Elain that he had in Nesta.

“They want you to rest, my love.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing. “Which is exactly what you should be doing.”

She turned, heading for the bathroom herself, but he caught her wrist, tugging her back lightly. “You should be, too.”

She stood right at the edge of the bed and he leaned over pressing the gentlest of kisses to her stomach.

Nesta’s eyes softened as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Why do I feel like you’re going to be spoiling me?”

“Because I am,” he muttered against her skin, giving her another feather-like kiss.

“I don’t like to be spoiled,” Nesta muttered, grinning.

“Liar,” Cassian crooned, then leaned back against the pillows, face distorted.

Nesta took the pill bottle off the bedside table and handed him one with a bottle of water. “Take it.”

He groaned, but didn’t protest. 

“I have work to do to get ready for opening day,” Nesta said. Including cleaning the stables, she thought. “If you need me, call me.”

“No, no.” Cassian held onto her. “You’re not working today either. No, you’re staying here.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m only seven weeks pregnant, Cass, not seven months. I can still do pretty much everything I was doing before I found out.”

He didn’t budge. “What if I said I wanted you to stay with me?”

“I’d say that I love you, but we have things we have to do.”

“You may not like to be spoiled but I do,” he murmured.

Nesta snorted as she walked to the dresser and pulled out shorts and a tee shirt to pull on. “I promise I’ll spoil you this afternoon.”

“You better,” he said, sighing. “Until then Beau will have to spoil me.” As if in answer, Beau let out a big yawn and rolled over to go back to sleep. “Thanks, bud. I know I can always count on you.”

Nesta chuckled and kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you.” Cassian reached for the remote control and flipped through the channels and Nesta went into the bathroom to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, travel mug in hand, Nesta opened her front door, ready to head up to the house and see what needed her attention.

And was met with two police officers.

She let out a small yelp and pressed her hand to her heart.

“Sorry, Miss,” the older cop said, gently. “Are you Nesta Archeron?”

“I… yes,” Nesta began, hesitantly. 

“We’re here about the incident that happened here the other night,” the one went on, while the younger cop remained silent.

“Okay,” she said, slowly. 

“May we ask you some questions?”

“Of course,” Nesta said, leaning back against the doorframe. 

“Can you tell us what happened?” The older one asked.

She pursed her lips and said, “My sister’s insane ex-boyfriend crashed her wedding, got drunk, and shot my boyfriend.”

The younger of the two, flipped through his notepad. “Would that be… Cassian Nazari?”

“Was there someone else who got shot that night?”

Nesta turned, finding Cassian limping from the bedroom.

“Mr. Nazari?” He asked.

“Cassian,” he said, extending his good hand to both officers. They accepted and he said, “You find the asshole who did this to me yet?”

The older cop hesitated. “Yes, but he was let out on bail. You may be needed to testify in court, when his hearing comes, but we wanted to come get a statement-.”

“He’s not in jail?” Nesta asked, exasperated. “He fucking almost killed-“

“It’s okay,” Cassian said, softly, his hand a gentle support on her elbow. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” the cop said. “We’ve taken your statement, Miss Archeron, and it will be filed in the report. Is there anything else you wish to be recorded?”

There’s a lot I’d like to say, Nesta thought, but she remained tight lipped and silent. 

“Tamlin was trying to shoot the groom, Rhysand Lunasa,” Cassian went on. “I got hit by mistake. I’m sure you’ll be wanting a note from the surgeon, but I nearly died. He was drunk, yeah, but Tamlin knew what he was doing.”

“And Mr. Lunasa, he’s the one who performed triage until the ambulance arrived?” He asked.

“Yes,” Cassian said, nodding. “He’s an EMT.”

The older one asked, “Miss Archeron, we noticed you recently returned from living in Europe for an extended period. You don’t think this could have anything to do with the attack?”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but Cassian said, “That’s irrelevant. She moved her after the death of her father. This was a targeted attack that went wrong, and you should have never let him bail out.”

The younger cop froze while the older cop’s eyes narrowed. “You may want to watch your tone, boy.”

“With all due respect,” Cassian went on, “I just had to be rushed into emergency surgery because a bullet nearly hit my heart. I want my pregnant girlfriend to be able to sleep well at night, and that may be kind of hard to do with the guy that almost murdered me, and intended to murder my best friend, her brother-in-law, still walking around.”

Nesta knew that tone.

Cassian was pissed.

And he had the right to be.

The older cop’s eyes softened as he let out a sigh. “I understand your concern, but that is out of my hands. The court date is next Monday. If you need help or have concerns before then, call the station.”

“Will do,” Cassian said, voice like ice. “Have a nice day, officers.” He wrapped an arm around Nesta’s waist and pulled her back into the house, closing the door and locking it, for good measure.

She walked into the kitchen and braced her hands on the counter.

“Nes-.”

“They let him out on bail? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He limped over to the kitchen, turning her around and pulling her into his side. “I know, baby. It’s bullshit, but there’s no defense. They’ll lock him up and-.”

She shook her head and pushed on his stomach carefully. “He’ll be in the wind. He’s not going to stick around. I need to call Feyre.”

Cassian opened his mouth to protest, but then he nodded, slowly. Nesta hated to put such a damper on Feyre and Rhysand’s newlywed days, too, but this was crucial. Her sister had to know. She called Feyre, who answered on the second ring, and gave her a quick overview. For the entire phone call, Cassian stood on the threshold of the kitchen, watching, waiting, concerned. 

His eyes were full of worry as he beheld Nesta.

She hated that look, that concern. Worrying about her would do him no good.

The second she hung up the phone she let out a loud, frustrated noise in the silent kitchen. Beau instantly reacted, hurrying into the kitchen to see what was the matter. 

“This is so fucked up,” Nesta breathed, shaking her head vigorously. “This is so fucked up!”

“Nes,” Cassian warned. 

“No,” she said, and she knew she was crying, knew she looked panicked, looked ridiculous in her current state, but she didn’t care. She sobbed, her body shaking. “This is so fucked up, Cass. They’ve been married for mere days and they have to worry about Feyre’s ex? He fucking shot you, Cass! He nearly killed you, you nearly died! I find out I’m pregnant, and you almost die.”

The look in Cassian’s eyes shattered as he attempted to take a step forward, but the meds had yet to kick in, and he had already been moving more than he should have been. “Nesta, I need you to relax, stress isn’t good for the baby-.”

“Relax?” she breathed. “What makes you think I can relax right now? He can be out there anywhere. He could be on our property!”

“He’s not though,” Cassian said, gripping the door frame, the room beginning to spin. “He’s- he’s long gone, and-.” With a deep breath, he turned and started for the bedroom. “Nes, I gotta lay down.” He held onto the wall as he walked and felt Nesta under his arm a second later. “You’re going to strain yourself.”

She asked, “Would you rather fall on your face?”

He didn’t think that warranted a response. She helped him back into bed. He fell back, a hand pressed to his wound. Nesta watched and her heart broke. “I… Cass…”

She was powerless to stop the sob that broke from her. Cassian felt powerless to help.

“Sweetheart, please.” He held his hand out to her. She shook her head.

“I don’t- I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

“You’re overwhelmed, Nes, you need to breathe.” Cassian reached out, rubbing her lower back. “Why don’t you take a warm bath?”

She shook her head. “I need to go start trying to clean-.”

“Nesta, so help me God, you’re carrying my child. You can’t be stressing out. I will call Azriel. He’ll handle it.”

She fell onto the bed, beside him, sobbing uncontrollably as he rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. She knew he didn’t feel comforted, knew he was in pain, knew the past few days had just as much affect on him as they had on her, if not more, but he said nothing. All he did was comfort her, his love, the mother of his child.

“I need sleep,” she said, as she cried. “I need fucking wine but I can’t fucking have it anymore.”

Cassian’s hand stilled, as if he wanted to say something, but it quickly began, once more. Those small circles being drawn on her back was all that kept her from completely losing her shit.

Her sobs eventually turned into nothingness. Beau’s chin was resting on her leg as Cassian continued to rub her back. She felt guilty. She should have been the one comforting him, but she didn’t stop his soft, soothing fingers. 

“Sleep,” he said. “Rest, Nesta, take a day to yourself. Stay here with me, collect your thoughts. You can start on your stuff tomorrow. For today...just relax. Please.” 

She sniffled, the only sound the tv on some mindless show in the background, and nodded. “I need to make an appointment, to see my doctor.”

Cass nodded. “I’ll get your phone.” Nesta raised her head and just stared at him. “Or I’ll stay right here and let you go get it.”

“Exactly.” She rolled over and laid her hand on her stomach, looking down at it. “You’re already messing with mommy’s emotions, aren’t you?”

Mommy.

Cassian’s throat tightened as he looked at her. He couldn’t help but imagine what she was going to look like in a few months, belly rounded out, carrying his baby.

“Nes, I- I know all of this was unexpected and probably not the best timing, but…” He cleared his throat, surprised that his voice was wavering. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Ever.”

Nesta’s eyes softened as she looked up at him. “I’m happy too, Cass. You’re right...it’s not the best timing...but, I’m happy, too.”

Cassian reached up to brush her hair behind her ear. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nesta answered, in all honesty. She had gotten used to never imagining herself as a mother, much less being a good one. “But you’re going to be one hell of a father.”

“A family,” Cassian breathed, and she recognized the look in his eyes. A family was something that Cassian never had, but wanted so desperately. “Me, you, and baby.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, and despite herself, laughed, quietly. “A family,”

“We’re going to get through this, Nes,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And when we do, it’s going to be beautiful.” 

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she mumbled, as she scrolled through her phone for her doctor’s number.

“And did it?” he asked. “Make you feel better?” 

“A little,” she confessed, setting her phone down to meet his tired gaze.

“Stay with me today,” he begged, quietly. “Spoil me. Tomorrow, I’ll let you work your ass off...but, today, be lazy with me. Please.” 

She nibbled on her bottom lip, calculating all she had to get done before the opening of the B&B next week, but she nodded, slowly. “Fine.”

Cassian smiled. “Thank you, now part one of spoiling me includes taking a relaxing bath.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Go.”

Nesta nodded and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Okay. Then how about I make breakfast?”

Cassian chuckled. “Sounds perfect, because I’m starving.”

Nesta shook her head and climbed off the bed, stopping at her dresser for clean clothes, but Cassian said, “Oh, and part two of spoiling me is getting out of the bathtub naked, sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but didn’t protest as she went into the bathroom, stripped down, and started to fill the tub. She could hear him in the bedroom, watching something sports related on the t.v. as she sunk into the water. It filled up around her as she closed her eyes, then turned the faucet off with her toes. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind, tried to push away her fears and anxieties, but it only worked so much. Nonetheless, she did her best to relax before washing herself with her favorite lavender soap and pulling the plug to let the water drain.

She dried herself off, brushed out her hair, and rubbed lotion all over her body before entering the bedroom.

Cassian was already looking at the doorway, apparently having heard her approaching. 

Beau was sound asleep on the rug, snoring softly as Nesta meandered into the room.

The look in Cassian’s eyes had her toes curling.

“No physical activity,” Nesta warned. “Doctor’s orders.”

“The doctor has never seen your tits.” His voice was deeper than normal, slower, and she climbed into bed next to him, seeing his eyes glassy, she knew why.

“How do those pain meds got you feeling?” She chuckled, knowing they’d finally worked their way into his system.

He shrugged, but wrapped his good arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. His nose was in her damp hair, breathing deeply and inhaling her scent. “Like I could make you feel good.”

Nesta chuckled as she settled back into the pillow and stole the remote from him, turning it from the football highlights and flipping through channels. Cassian protested and said, “I was watching that…” Without looking at him, Nesta flipped the top half of the blanket down, exposing her bare chest. He nodded and said, “Remote is yours, yes, ma’am.”

He fell against her shoulder, his mouth finding its way against her neck. She chuckled, flipping through the stations. “Cass.”

“Hmmm,” he mumbled, tongue brushing her skin, kisses trailing down to her collarbone.

“Rest,” she ordered.

“I am,” he argued.

“You are not,” she laughed, then pushed him back by his forehead.

He frowned, then yawned. “Your tits help me relax.”

“My tits make you do the opposite of relax. I’m putting on a shirt.”

“No.” He laughed, quietly, pulling on her hand before she could move. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

She found a lifetime movie that could play in the background and laid his hand on her stomach. She curled up against him and sighed.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, his thumb rubbing slow circles against her abdomen.

“Just…how we’re going to do all of this.” At his questioning glance, she went on. “Run a newly reopened B&B, maintain the ranch, and juggle a newborn? It’s only the two of us and we’re about to need a lot more hands. Not to mention who knows how long until you’ll be back to work.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back at it next week. I don’t really give a shit what the doctor says, we’ve got animals that count on me.” He saw the protest in her eyes but forged on before she could interrupt. “As for the B&B, maybe we should hire a manager or an assistant for you. Something to help with the business side of it. And lastly, we’re going to have the most badass kid of all time, he’ll be helping us on the ranch before you know it.”

Nesta glanced up at him. “He?”

Cassian’s cheeks reddened, not even realizing he’d made that slip. “I’ve always wanted a boy first. I want someone I can play with, get rough with. I want a built in roping partner. I’ll be over the moon if we have a girl, don’t get me wrong. But gods, I want a boy.”

Nesta looked up at him and kissed his cheek, softly, before saying, “If it is a boy, I hope he looks just like his daddy.”

Cassian's smile was so genuine and bright and utterly beautiful that Nesta couldn’t help but kiss him, once more, slowly, tenderly, on his lips.

They laid like that for hours until morning turned into afternoon, until they both fell asleep, peacefully, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[hogarthwrites]

almost

pairing: samuel drake/reader (m/f)

genre: angst, smut

warnings: graphic sex

words: 3,229

summary:

Part two of Your Type. You thought you lost Sam forever, and you were just about to get over him when he came back. Your feelings for him are stronger than ever, but he's still so emotionally closed off.

note:

This is the second part of your type! Sam and reader are older in this part. I might add a third part to it too.

Present Day

In the last letter Sam sent you while you were away, he sounded excited about finally finding his mother’s things. After that, nothing. When you went home for the summer, you couldn't find him or contact him.

The lady said he just disappeared without a warning, and she put up a few posters and even reported it to the police, but there was just no trace of Samuel Morgan anywhere in the state.

You spent a lot of nights crying, worried sick about what might've happened to him. You comforted yourself thinking he just probably left for that job he was talking about, and not that he was lying face down in a ditch.

Years went by, and before you knew it, you were frowning at your own reflection, unsure if you wanted to count the white hair suddenly popping up out of nowhere. You splashed water on your face and put your lab coat and walked back to your office.

Even though you tried your best to forget him, you still missed Sam. You'd replay that day you had a picnic with him in your mind, wishing things were that simple again. It was unfair how you’d put him on some kind of pedestal, comparing every relationship you ever had to him.

“Got a patient for you,” Chloe barged into your office. It wasn’t unusual for her to come to you after a trip, covered in wounds and bruised up, but this time she was with someone else. The last time she did this was for a man named Charlie who had broken his leg.

“Good to see you’re alive, Frazer,” you mumbled, not looking up from your papers. “Is it Charlie again?”

“You think you could stitch this up, doc?” A deeper voice said and you looked up to see a tall man grabbing at his bloody arm.

“Oh my god,” you quickly stood up and led him to the examination table. “What the hell happened?”

“He fell and scratched his arm on a weirdly sharp plank,” Chloe snickered. “I’m pretty sure he’s concussed, but I really can’t tell.”

“I’m fine , Chloe,” he insisted.

“What’s your name? How old are you?” You looked at him, his familiar brown eyes searching yours.

“It's Sam,” he gave a small smile, and your heart fell. “Been a while, huh?”

“ Sam?” You gasped. “Is that really you?”

Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. All the feelings you kept trying to bury away just came surging back. Suddenly, you were 18 again, madly in love with your best friend. You took a step closer, wondering if you should hug him. It didn’t feel real.

“Right,” Chloe looked perplexed. “I see there’s a… thing happening here, so I’m just going to get some coffee. Don’t die, Sam, we have a flight to India in a few weeks.”

He simply chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry. This is Chloe’s job.”

“Nice to see you’re still as deranged as when we were kids,” you started cleaning the cut on his arm.

“I like to think I’m still as charming as ever,” he smirked.

“Hm, at least I know you aren’t concussed,” you pressed the cotton full of hydrogen peroxide on the wound and Sam winced. “I might have to stitch this up though.”

“You’re the doctor.”

The silence was a little too awkward as you began to stitch him up. His eyes were on you, making you nervous. He was a lot taller now, tattoos decorating his arm and neck, his messy brown hair was longer and hung in soft curls behind his neck. Like you, he looked older, but he still made you feel the same way.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat. “This is what you’ve been up to. What are you? Some kind of kids’ doctor?” He looked at the stuffed animals on the table next to him.

“Yeah, I’m a pediatrician,” you nodded. “Chloe’s one of my closest friends and probably my oldest patient. Other than you.”

“If I’m old, you are too,” he smiled at you.

“How do you know her? I don’t think she’s ever mentioned you before.”

“We’re just business partners. I think she used to date Nathan.”

“Nathan? Where is he now?”

“Oh, he’s married. Can you believe it?”

“Well, it has been a long, long time,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, who’d have thought, huh?” Sam chuckled.

You finished off his stitches and bandaged him up. “Alright, keep this dry and bandaged for 24 hours then wash around it with clean water.” You glanced at the scar above the stitches. “I’m sure you know how this all works already.”

“I sure do,” Sam grinned.

It was quiet while you washed your hands on the sink.

“It’s funny,” Sam said and you turned to look at him. “I thought we’d be more… excited, if we saw each other again.”

“I thought you died, Sam,” you felt a lump in your throat. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry in front of him . “You stopped sending letters and you stopped phoning me. I don’t know what you expect me to feel. What happened?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Sam stepped closer and took your hand. “Please, let’s get some drinks sometime. I”ll tell you everything.”

“I don’t know,” you pulled away. “This is just too much for me.”

“Alright,” he sounded defeated. “If you ever change your mind, meet me at the bar on Main Street tonight.”

Sam’s invitation racked your mind all day as you looked after patient after patient. Of course you wanted to see him again, but he left you hanging for more than two decades, making you believe he was dead this whole time. Now he waltzed right in the door when you’ve been trying to forget him.

You sighed and opened the little chest on your desk. Who were you kidding, you still kept the stupid pendant he gave you all those years ago. It glinted in the fluorescent light, taunting you. You know you wanna see me again , his voice was in your head. Sam was in your head again.

Fuck it. You hung your lab coat up and grabbed your keys.

He sat at the bar with a beer in one hand, a book in the other. Treasure Island . Of course.

“Will you ever get tired of that book?” You nudged his leg with the tip of your heels.

“Glad you can make it, scout,” Sam smiled. Here I go again , you thought when you felt your cheeks heat up. “Beer?”

“Why not?” You shrugged and took the seat next to him.

“Rough day at work?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. My best friend who I thought was dead for twenty-something years showed up out of nowhere. And get this, he wanted me to meet him here of all places,” you knocked back your beer.

“He sounds like an asshole,” Sam chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

He sighed. “I never meant to leave you. Will you hear me out?”

You rested your cheek on your hand and gave him a look. “I drove all the way here, I don’t think I have much of a choice right now.”

Sam told you his story. Breaking into an old woman’s home, forced to go into hiding, shot and spent fifteen years in a Panamanian prison, surviving a burning pirate ship ? It almost seemed too extraordinary, and knowing Sam, you weren’t sure if there were all just pretty lies.

“How can I be sure you’re not bullshitting me right now, Samuel?”

“Would this convince you otherwise?” Sam lifted his shirt, revealing the scars left from the bullets.

“Wow,” you reached out, wanting to touch them. You looked up at Sam and he nodded. “God, I'm so sorry, Sam.”

“You could say it's a miracle I even survived that.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I guess life just wasn't done with me yet.”

There were no words left to say. You downed your beer. Somehow you’ve lost track of how many you’ve drank.

“I missed you,” Sam looked at you in a way you've never seen before.

Your hand was suddenly in his. Was he getting closer?

His lips met yours and you melted into the kiss. You've imagined this scenario for so long, it didn't feel real. Please don't wake up , you thought as you wrapped your arms around Sam’s neck. I hope this dream never ends.

It was a nice dream. You were reunited with Sam. He kissed you. All you felt was warm.

You stirred in bed, pulling the covers over your chest as a gust of wind blew into the room. Then, an arm around your waist. Who’s that?

You sat up in surprise, looking down at the hairy arm draped over your naked body on a bed you didn't recognise. Could it be? As you glanced to the other side of the bed, you knew it wasn't just a dream.

The motel room Sam was staying in looked different in the light. It was a lot smaller than you thought and you noticed his belongings piled up on the table in the corner. A bunch of books, papers, and some clothes.

Sam was gently snoring and you brushed the stray hairs from his forehead. He still looked peaceful when he slept, and it broke your heart to think of how stressed and lonely he was in prison.

“Mornin’,” he garbled.

“Good morning, Sam,” you lay back down on the pillow next to him.

He yawned and blearily looked at you. “Great view.”

“Shut up.”

You leaned over and kissed him softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. Soon you were climbing on top of him, feeling him get hard under you.

“God, you’re insatiable,” you laughed.

“You’ve only got yourself to blame,” Sam gave you a shit eating grin.

Your hands were on his broad chest as he entered you. It felt as good as the first time and you hummed in delight. You moved your hips back and forth, watching as Sam screwed his eyes shut in pleasure.

His hands moved to grab at your ass, guiding the movement of your hips against his. It was slow and sweet as you took your time, enjoying the way he felt inside you.

Sam sat up to kiss you hungrily, his lips making his way down your neck to your breasts, sucking on your nipple. Your breathing became more erratic as you held his head in place, tugging at his hair. Wanting more, you moved your hips faster. He let out a moan while his face was at your neck, kissing the hot skin softly.

Sam’s hands and his mouth continued to explore your body, teetering you to the edge.

“Cum for me,” he whispered and that was enough for you. Your fingers tangled in his hair and moaned out his name as you reached your high.

He didn’t even give you time to recover when he flipped you over on the bed. He was inside you again, slamming his hips against yours, desperate for his orgasm. You took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You feel so good,” he groaned. “I missed you so much. Fuck.”

Your back arched off the bed and your fingers sunk into his hands as your own orgasm hit you again, revelling in Sam’s grunts and praises laced with lust.

He gave a few hard thrusts before his movements faltered and he pulled out just in time to cum all over your stomach. He collapsed on the bed next to you, just as out of breath, but he was smiling in contentment.

“Do you have work today?” He asked after a while.

“Yeah,” you reached for your phone on the nightstand. “In, shit, an hour.”

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “Seems like only yesterday I was reading over your history essays.”

“Where would I be without you, huh?” You rolled on top of him and kissed him. “I gotta go.”

Sam sat up in bed and smoked a cigarette as he watched you get dressed. The bed looked inviting and all you wanted to do was crawl back in and into his arms again. Maybe I'll bring an overnight bag next time , you thought. Will there even be a next time?

“That's bad for your lungs,” you plucked the cigarette from his lips and put it out on the ashtray on the nightstand.

“Don't forget. You clean around the stitches, okay?” You gently touched the bandage on his arm. “Call me or swing by the office if it comes off or anything.”

“Will do.”

About last night … You wanted to ask him more, but your alarm went off.

“I'm gonna be late,” you sighed.

You were about to stand again when Sam took your hand and pulled you in for a kiss. It started off as sweet little pecks, but as he wrapped his arms around your waist, the kiss got deeper and you couldn't help but moan into it.

“Sam, I can't,” you pulled away. “I have to get to the clinic.”

“Go, save the world, one boo boo at a time,” he smirked as he kissed your hand.

“You're insufferable,” you laughed.

“You mean irresistible.”

“You haven't changed a bit, Samuel Morgan.”

The air was cool as you held onto Sam’s waist with one arm, the other holding a picnic basket. This time, it was his idea to have a picnic at a lake just outside the city. He still drove a motorcycle, and not having ridden one in many years, you clung onto his denim jacket as if your life depended on it.

There was a picnic table and a little grill by the lakeshore and you set the table while Sam tried to figure out how to use the grill.

“Have you been here before?” You asked as you took out a bottle of champagne that Sam slipped into the basket at the last minute.

“Honestly? No,” he smiled at you. “I asked Chloe and Sully, but they didn’t know any picnic spots, so I Googled it.”

“You know how to use Google?” You snickered.

“I’m not that old.”

“Sure, Mr. Radio Tower.”

Sam was proud of the burgers he grilled and had asked you to take pictures of it with your phone so he could send it to Nathan. He was in a good mood, reminiscing about all the trouble he caused when he was younger.

The sun had started to set when you both moved to the shore, boots off, soaking your feet in the chilly water. You squatted next to Sam who was skipping rocks on the water.

“I could never figure out how to do that,” you picked up a stone and attempted to make it skip, but it made a small splash and sank into the lake.

“It’s easy,” Sam laughed. “Here,” he placed a smooth, flat stone in your hand, placing it between your thumb and forefinger. “Now it’s all in the wrist.”

He gently pulled your arm back and forth, flicking your wrist at the last minute. “You just flick it hard enough to make the stone spin.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded. “You make it look easy.”

“C’mon, just give it a try,” he let go of your arm. “Just,” he flicked his wrist. “Like that.”

“Like this?” You copied the gesture he made. The stone flew off your hand and jumped off the surface of the lake before plopping into the water.

“Hey, you did it!” Sam gave you a pat on the back.

“What do you know,” you were smiling like an idiot. “Still a great tutor after all these years.”

“What can I say?” He was still the same cocky Sam.

You leaned into him and pulled your cardigan around you tighter. There was something that’s been bugging since you were reunited and spent more time together. You felt great around him, the old emotional and intellectual connection was back and probably stronger than before. It almost felt like there was something between you and Sam, but you didn’t know if that was what he felt as well. After all, he did reject you before.

“Listen,” Sam spoke before you. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What is it?” You didn’t know if you were nervous or excited, but you were definitely anxious.

“This job with Chloe, it might be dangerous. Usually I know what I’m getting into, but I’m not an expert on whatever she’s be researching on so I’m really just going to depend on dumb luck.”

“You made it out of prison and a booby trapped pirate cave just fine,” you tried to lighten him up.

“Asav’s a dangerous man. Even more so than Rafe.” Sam looked serious as he stared out into the horizon. “Just… I just don’t want you worrying about me.”

“After this conversation?” You shook your head. “Gee, I guess I’ll try, Samuel."

“It’s just been really good the past few weeks,” Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to say thanks for everything.”

You looked up at him. “What are you trying to say, Sam?”

“Just in case I’m a goner, you know…”

“No, I don’t know,” you stood up. “Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on between us.”

“Come on, don't be so dramatic,” he stood up and tried to take your hand, but you pulled away.

“ I’m being dramatic? You’re out here telling me your last will and testament!”

“I’m just being realistic, alright?”

“No, Sam,” you picked up your boots and pulled them on. “You don’t get to do this to me. I lost you once before, I don’t wanna do that again.”

Sam put up his hands in defeat and sat down next to you and you turned away in an attempt to hide the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t want to imagine a world without Sam again and you were angry that he’d just come back out of the blue, make you feel like everything was alright again, then just take it all away again.

“Just take me home,” you sniffled.

You tried not to cry into the back of Sam’s jacket as you held on to him. He seemed to drive a lot slower than before, and it was agonizing being so close to him.

As soon as he parked his bike in front of your house, you silently got off, hugging the picnic basket to your chest. Sam was anxiously tapping his finger on the grip and you stood there, unsure if you wanted to say something to him. He got off the bike and stood in front of you, twiddling his fingers.

“Thanks for today,” you said weakly.

“Yeah,” he nodded once. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Yeah.”

He took a small step forward as if to hug you, but he held back.

Hug me, you asshole , you thought. Please .

“Alright, well, I gotta go,” Sam took a step back. “Take care, alright?”

There was a lump in your throat and your vision blurred as you blinked back tears.

“Sam,” you called, and he looked at you expectantly. What else was there to say, though?

“Yeah?”

Be careful. I love you .

“Thanks for everything.”

Sam smiled softly, taking your hand and softly squeezing it.

“See you around.”

[riseandfxll]

Retribution, Chapter Eight

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven

Summary - Hailey gets shot while off-duty in a seemingly random attack, but what the intelligence unit uncovers while she’s in the hospital fighting for her life will change everything.

Sincerest apologies for the year long hiatus (if you can call it that). Another apology for the questionable writing - I haven’t written anything besides research assignments for over a year, so I’m a bit rusty, however I lost my tiny little mind over 8x03 & 8x04, so this was me trying to cope. 

[also posted on ff.net and ao3] & as always, story is not beta read (we die like men)

Jay was right, as per usual; the night had dragged on for so long that Hailey was almost certain the universe was messing with her. Even through the exhaustion plaguing every cell in her body, she felt content, Jay was still pressed up against her side in the hospital bed, slowing her heart rate and calming her electrified nerves as the pair continued flipping through the seemingly endless collage of faces that made up Hailey Upton’s career in the police force. It was something that the detective wouldn’t have been able to do with any other person, the memories of hard cases and victims that she had pushed so far down now threatening to escape. 

By the time the sun had risen the pair had been able to put together a list of nine names that were potential suspects. Criminals that Hailey had once locked away to keep innocent people safe, who now walked free once more. Jay was the first to lift the fog that had settled over the room, “I’ll call Vought, let him know we have potential names.” He told her, reluctantly swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “Try get some sleep, yeah?” Jay placed a kiss between her eyebrows, smoothing down her rumpled hair before leaving the room.

Hailey sat in the quiet of her hospital room, the sounds of the machines connected to her by the wires that were still connected to her body echoed through the bare room. In the midst of all the chaos, Kim had managed to bring Hailey her go-bag, which now sat discarded in the corner waiting to be opened. She wouldn’t mind changing into her own clothes, instead of being stuck in a hospital gown that left everything on show for all to see. 

Taking in a deep breath, Hailey pushed herself up the bed, sitting up properly for the first time in almost 24 hours. Holding back a wince, she pushed the bedsheets back until they only covered her feet and ever so carefully manoeuvred her legs off the side of the bed, still trying to fight the persistent pain shooting through her body. Her feet just touching the floor as the door swung open, the fluorescent lights from the hallway barging into the room, along with Jay.

Jay reached her side in a matter of seconds, “What’s wrong? Why are you up? Do you need something?” his hands bracing her, moving to lie her back down.

She pushed his hands back off her, grabbing his shoulder to stay upright on the bed, “well I was trying to get some fresh clothes from my go bag,” she answered, “but I guess now that you’re back you can grab it for me.” She smirked at him playfully, pointing towards the black duffle on the floor.

Jay took a step back, turning in the direction of the bag before picking it up and placing it on one of the chairs. “There should be a button up flannel and a pair of sweats in there,” Hailey told her partner, “hopefully the buttons will make it easier to put on,” she continued, wincing as she tried to roll her right shoulder, even with the meds the doctors had given her, the pain was almost unbearable. 

“You really shouldn’t be moving, Hailey, you need rest.” He told her, putting the flannel and sweats on the bed beside his injured partner. 

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression that your brother was the doctor in the family,” Hailey snorted, a smile taking over her face. 

Jay made a face at her, “At least let me get the nurse to come and help you.” 

“They’re busy Jay, I’m not going to make them come all the way here just to help me put some clothes on.” Reaching for the clothes as she spoke, a wince escaping her lips as she tried and failed to swallow it back down. 

Jay took a step closer to the bed and taking the clothes from where Hailey had failed to retrieve them from and discarded the sweats on the side table before unfolding the shirt, “fine, if you won’t let them help you, at least let me.” His eyes met hers, searching for her response, “unless that’s too weird… or I can call Kim If you want?”

The smile crept back onto her lips as she watched her usually well-spoken and stoic partner fumble and stutter over the words. “It’s fine Jay, I don’t mind you helping me. And besides, it’s 5:30 in the morning. Do you want Kim to murder you?” Hailey joked, receiving a huff of laughter in reply. Kim Burgess was a lot of things, but a morning person, she was not. 

Hailey watched as Jay seemed to be contemplating how to go about dressing her, “let’s start with the sweats, yeah?” she offered, the words bringing jay back from his thoughts.

“Okay, yeah,” he replied, still not sounding completely sure of the situation. He rolled the legs of the grey pants up and crouched down in front of her. This definitely wasn’t what she imagined when she had thought about the detective on his knees in front of her, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t slightly enjoy it. Hailey helped line her first foot up with one of the pant legs, doing the same with the next, holding in a shiver as she felt her partners thumbs brush against her calves.

Jay slid the pants up Hailey’s legs, holding his breath as he felt her skin against his fingers. “Do you want to, uh, try stand up for a second?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Hailey only nodded, not wanting her voice to betray how Jay’s touch made her feel. How it made her react. She took his hand to steady herself, his callused hands rough but comforting against her hands, she felt safe with him. When they were together, it was as if none of the things that lurked in the shadows could get her. 

She braced her other hand against his shoulder as she let’s her feet touch the floor, feeling the cool of linoleum even through her socks as Jay began sliding the sweatpants up her legs, the warmth of the fabric a stark contrast to the cool of his touch.

He felt his heart start to race as he slid the pants up her thighs and under the stiff fabric of her hospital gown, listening to her breath become heavier, and the weight of her hands on his shoulders become more obvious as she fought to keep upright. Allowing his fingers to brush against the soft skin of her thighs as he started to stand; pulling the waistband over her hips to sit on waist, allowing his hands to rest over the fabric. 

Hailey lifted her head, her eyes meeting the intoxicating green of Jay’s, a slight smile toying on her lips as she whispered, “you know, if this whole detective thing doesn’t work out, you’d make a pretty decent nurse.” 

His eyes didn’t leave hers as he spoke, a laugh escaping from his throat, “good to know, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” Now it was his turn to lose his breath as he felt one of her hands slide from his shoulder to cup his jaw, a finger running over the slight stubble he’d let grow. 

“Hailey…” he breathed, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice. God, he was absolute putty in her hands and she’d barely even touched him. 

Hailey’s breathing was equally as shaky as she smiled at him, still moving her thumb against his cheek.

Tears threatened to fall as he returned her smile, “I was so scared, Hails, I-I don’t know what I would have done if you had died…” this time he didn’t try to hide the emotion in his voice as he spoke, “I thought I’d lost you.” 

She used her hand to guide him down, his lips meeting hers. The kiss was soft, as if to say “I’m right here, Jay. I’m not going anywhere.”

She felt her own tears fall down her cheeks as they finally separated, giving him a small smile as their eyes met once more. “You know, this was the first time someone has put more clothes on me before kissing me.” 

Jay choked out a laugh “I guess I’m just not like the other guys then” he spoke, his words full of the humour and comfort that is always there when they’re together, bringing his lips back down to hers to kiss her once more.