#and recently it like suddenly started hurting on my ring finger

[alligaytorswamp]

ermmm something happened to my hand and now it like feels uncomfy and 2 of my fingers don't work properly ahhahahaha (im panicking)

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER NINE ━━ Mending

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 9.2K (bruh i should’ve split this in two)

☆ ━ warnings: mentions of conversion therapy, sexual content (fingering)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: this is sooo long and not proofread but i hope the length and the content make up for me not posting last night lol

“NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

Thaliah’s voice rings out firmly, leaving no room for argument as it fills the space of her bedroom. The statement feels like a slap, and Paige, who sits cross-legged on the floor, snaps her head up, eyes locking onto Thaliah’s.

“Why?” Paige asks, the offense clear in her tone.

Thaliah doesn’t miss a beat, looking at her like she’s completely lost her mind. “Oh, I don’t know,” she starts, sarcasm dripping from every word, “probably because she dropped us after being friends for years, then acted like a complete bitch for months. And, what? Now that she and Hudson broke up and she’s lost all her popular friends, she’s suddenly crawling back to us?” She shakes her head, crossing her arms in defiance. “Absolutely not. And, Paige, don’t forget she literally broke your heart!”

Paige feels the words hit her like a punch in the gut, a bitter reminder of the pain she’s been trying so hard to push down. Broke your heart. That part stings the most, because it’s true, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

She swallows hard, trying to keep her voice steady. “Come on, Thal—”

Jalen, who’s been quietly scrolling through his phone on Thaliah’s bed, cuts in, his voice calm but dismissive. “P, Dani doesn’t even like basketball that much. She doesn’t need to come.”

Paige whirls around to face him, her frustration bubbling to the surface. It’s been a couple of weeks since the night of the season-opener—since Dani and Beau called it quits, and since Paige and Dani kissed at the park. That kiss had been everything Paige had imagined for so long, but it hadn’t been a magic fix for all the hurt between them. Not by a long shot.

They haven’t kissed again since, but things have shifted between them. Conversations that once felt awkward and strained are easier now. More and more, Dani smiles at Paige the way she used to—like she knows Paige better than anyone else. It’s the kind of smile that makes Paige’s heart do this stupid little flip in her chest. But it still feels like they’re walking on egg shells around each other, and Paige knows it.

Still, they’ve hung out a significant amount since and there’s been so much real progress. Paige can only hope soon everything will be almost entirely normal again. At this point, the only thing that’s truly missing is the four of them together and friends—Paige, Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen. Like it’s been for years.

But, clearly, the latters of the quartet do not feel the same. Especially because now, in Thaliah’s room with her laptop open and ready to purchase Timberwolves tickets, a tradition that’s been theirs since they were kids, neither Thaliah nor Jalen are interested in Dani coming. Even though she’s always come with them. Even though this is their last year together before college splits them up. Paige can’t stand the idea of Dani not being there, and—even with all of the recent drama—she can’t believe that her other two best friends can.

“She’s come every year,” Paige argues, her voice tightening. “It’s tradition. It’s our thing. And this is the last time we’ll all be together before we leave. She’s coming.”

Thaliah raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Not unless she apologizes. To both of us.”

Paige’s frustration spikes. “She’s tried to! But you still have her blocked, and you completely ignore her at school!”

Thaliah scoffs, her expression hardening. “She blocked me first!”

Jalen, ever the mediator, sighs. “Look, Paige, it’s not that we don’t get it, okay? But Dani ghosted us, and she was a total asshole. She can’t just show up like nothing happened. Especially not after everything she did to you.” He looks at Paige, his tone softening. “I mean, seriously, P—you of all people should be the last person defending her right now.”

The room goes quiet after Jalen’s words sink in, the weight of the truth pressing down on Paige’s chest. She knows what they’re saying isn’t wrong. Dani did hurt her—badly. She spent months wondering what she did to drive Dani away, nights crying herself to sleep after Dani told her they couldn’t be friends anymore. The memory still twists her stomach in knots, but—

“She’s been through a lot,” Paige says quietly, though there’s a tremble in her voice now. “You guys just don’t know the whole story.”

Thaliah’s eyes narrow. “Then enlighten us, Paige. What’s Dani been through that justifies all her shitty behavior?”

Paige bites the inside of her cheek, feeling the familiar wave of protectiveness rise up in her. She can’t tell them. She knows what Dani’s been through—everything she’s faced with her dad, the conversion camp over the summer, the fear and guilt that’s been eating her alive. It’s not Paige’s story to tell, though. And despite everything, the blonde knows Dani isn’t ready to talk about it, not yet.

She shakes her head. “It’s not my place to say.”

Thaliah scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “So we’re supposed to just take your word for it? Without any explanation? We’ve all been through shit, but we didn’t treat our friends like crap because of it.”

Paige clenches her jaw, trying to keep her cool. “It’s not the same, Thal. Dani’s different now. You don’t know what she’s been dealing with, but she’s trying to make things right. She’s tried to apologized.”

“When? To who?” Thaliah presses. “She sure as hell hasn’t apologized to me or Jalen.”

“I told you—she tried. But how’s she supposed to if you won’t even give her a chance?”

The argument spirals, voices rising as Paige, Thaliah, and Jalen go back and forth. Every time Paige feels like she’s getting somewhere, they push back harder, reminding her of all the ways Dani hurt them, all the reasons they have for keeping their walls up. But Paige is tired—tired of having to defend Dani over something that’s hardly even her fault to begin with, tired of feeling like the only one who still believes in her. Her hands clench into fists, her throat tight with emotion.

“She’s been through enough,” Paige says, her voice cracking with exhaustion. “You guys have no idea what she’s been through. But I’m telling you—she’s trying. She’s doing the best she can. And you need to cut her some slack.”

Thaliah crosses her arms again, her expression stony. “If it’s that serious, then tell us what’s going on, Paige.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “I can’t. You know that I would if I could. But it’s not my business to tell—seriously.”

Silence stretches between them, thick with tension. Paige can feel her pulse pounding in her ears, frustration clawing at her throat. She knows she’s not getting through to them, but she doesn’t know how else to make them understand. All she wants is for them to see the Dani she knows—the Dani who’s struggling but trying to make amends, trying to rebuild what she broke.

Finally, Thaliah sighs, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Fine! Fine, Jesus Christ, she can come.”

Paige lets out a long breath, but it’s not relief she feels. It’s something closer to exhaustion, the kind that weighs heavy on her chest. She can tell by the look on Thaliah’s face, the tension still radiating from Jalen, that this isn’t over.

IT’S SATURDAY, and Dani’s sitting on Paige’s bed, fiddling with her hands as the silence stretches between them. She shifts uncomfortably, pulling at the sleeves of her Timberwolves hoodie, trying to figure out how to bring up the topic that’s been gnawing at her ever since Paige told her they’d all be going to the game together. Dani’s stomach churns at the thought of seeing Thaliah and Jalen again. It’s been months since things got bad, since she cut them off—cut everyone off, really—and she’s not naïve enough to think they’ll just welcome her back like nothing happened.

She glances at Paige, who’s sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, her face focused as she scrolls through something on her phone. Dani takes a deep breath, feeling her nerves bubble up inside her.

“How bad is it? Like, seriously.”

Paige freezes, her thumb pausing mid-scroll. She doesn’t look up or make eye contact with Dani, which isn’t a great sign. Instead, she moves closer, sitting beside Dani and reaching out to gently run her fingers over one of Dani’s braids.

“These are cute,” Paige says softly, the corner of her lips quirking up. “When’d you learn to Dutch?”

Dani’s heart stutters in her chest, just for a second, at the way Paige’s voice drops, warm and affectionate. The way her fingers ghost along the braid, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to touch her like this.

She clears her throat, ignoring the way her pulse quickens and instead looks at Paige pointedly, refusing to be distracted. “Seriously, Paige. What’s the damage?”

Paige sighs, her fingers stilling before slipping away from Dani’s braid. She drops her hand into her lap, her shoulders sagging slightly as if she’s been carrying the weight of this conversation for too long already. Dani can feel her heart rate pick up, the anxiety starting to claw its way up her throat.

It’s been a few weeks since the breakup with Beau, since the night she and Paige kissed in the park and the walls she’d built so carefully around herself began to crumble. They haven’t talked about it much, that kiss. There’s been this weird understanding between them, this unspoken agreement to focus on rebuilding their friendship first. But even that hasn’t been easiest thing. And now this—seeing Thaliah and Jalen again, the two people she’s ghosted harder than anyone—it feels like a hurdle she’s not sure she’s ready to face.

“They’re… hurt,” Paige finally says, her voice soft but steady. She’s always been honest with Dani, even when it’s hard to hear. “Thaliah’s pissed. Jalen, too. They feel like you just… disappeared on them. And that hurt them, Dani.”

Dani swallows, feeling the familiar sting of guilt settle in her chest. She knows that. She knows how much she’s hurt them. But hearing it from Paige, who’s probably been their buffer through all of this—it makes it worse somehow. She pulls her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest as she leans back against the headboard, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her hoodie.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” Dani says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything. And I know that’s not an excuse, but…”

Paige looks at her then, her eyes softening. She shifts on the bed so she’s facing Dani fully, one leg folded underneath her. “I get it,” Paige says gently. “But you gotta understand, Dani—they’re not just goin’ to forget ‘bout what happened. You have to make it right.”

Dani nods, the knot in her chest tightening. She hates this. She hates feeling like the villain in a story she never wanted to be a part of. But she also knows that Paige is right. If she’s going to fix things with Thaliah and Jalen, she has to own up to what she’s done. She’s been avoiding that for too long now, thinking she could just skate by, keep her head down, and hope everything blows over.

“How mad are they, really?” Dani asks, her voice small, almost like she’s bracing herself for impact.

Paige lets out a long breath, rubbing a hand over her face before meeting Dani’s eyes again. “Thaliah jus’ feels like you dumped us for the popular crowd, and now that you’ve lost them, you’re coming back to us as a backup. She said she wants an apology. Jalen… he’s more hurt than mad, but it’s still going to take time. He wants to understand why, but you kind of shut everyone out. Including me.”

Dani winces. The truth stings, but it’s exactly what she expected. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that,” she mutters, frustration creeping into her tone. “It wasn’t like I wanted to leave you guys. I just… I dunno, I was going through a lot of shit.”

She knows she sounds defensive, but she can’t help it. She’s been wrestling with her own demons for months, and as much as she knows she screwed up, there’s still a part of her that wants them to understand. Wants Paige to understand.

Paige tilts her head, studying Dani for a moment before speaking. “I know you were. I get that, more than anyone. But you need to explain that to them. They can’t just guess what you’re going through.”

Dani’s eyes drop to her lap, guilt mixing with frustration. “I don’t even know if I can explain it,” she admits, her voice cracking. “There’s just… so much.”

She feels the weight of everything pressing down on her—the months of confusion, of fear, of trying to figure out who she is while constantly feeling like she’s drowning in expectations she can’t meet. The summer spent at that camp, the suffocating guilt that still clings to her even now. It’s all too much sometimes, and Dani doesn’t know how to package it all neatly into an apology.

Paige leans in, her hand brushing against Dani’s knee in a way that’s comforting, grounding. “You don’t have to explain everything. Just start with ‘I’m sorry.’ The rest’ll come.”

Dani looks at Paige, her chest tightening again, but this time it’s different. There’s something warm in the way Paige is looking at her—something patient, something real. It reminds her why she’s here in the first place, why she’s willing to go through this awkward, painful reconciliation. She missed Paige. She missed her more than she could ever say.

“Okay,” Dani says quietly, nodding.

Paige smiles then, that small, gentle smile that always makes Dani feel like maybe everything’s going to be okay. The kind of smile that got her through middle school, through all the awkward, awful years of figuring out who they were together. And now, maybe, they’re figuring it out again.

Before Dani can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door, and the sound of voices filters in from the hallway—Thaliah and Jalen have arrived. Dani feels her stomach flip, anxiety tightening its grip on her again, but Paige squeezes her knee, a small reassurance before she stands up.

DANI SITS in the backseat of Jalen’s car, staring out the window, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The soft hum of the engine and the occasional muffled voices of Jalen and Thaliah are the only sounds filling the silence. It’s awkward—really awkward. The tension in the car is almost palpable, like a weight pressing down on Dani’s chest, and no amount of deep breathing is helping her get rid of it.

She glances over at Paige beside her, whose eyes are focused on her phone, seemingly unbothered by the uncomfortable atmosphere. Dani, though, can feel every second dragging on. She feels like she’s intruding, lacking the belonging she used to feel.

It isn’t supposed to be like this. Dani tried to fix things earlier, back when they were still at Paige’s house, standing awkwardly in the doorway as Thaliah and Jalen walked in. She’d worked up the courage to apologize, knowing that they both deserved it and it needed to be done. But before she could even get halfway through the first sentence, Thaliah cut her off.

“We’re late,” Thaliah snapped, her gaze avoiding Dani altogether. “We need to leave now.”

She hadn’t even looked at Dani, hadn’t let her finish. And now, Thaliah’s silent treatment is even worse. She refuses to acknowledge Dani’s presence, her eyes trained forward in the passenger seat, body angled slightly away as if Dani’s existence is something she’s choosing to ignore.

Jalen, at least, isn’t so bad. He smiled at her when they first got there, a small, hesitant smile that made Dani’s stomach unclench for a moment. He doesn’t seem to hate her, but the difference between how things used to be and how they are now is still glaring. His warmth feels distant, like a memory she’s grasping for but can’t quite reach.

Dani’s fingers twitch in her lap. She feels like she should say something; try to break the ice. But every time she opens her mouth, the words die in her throat, swallowed by the heavy silence. There’s this growing sense of dread in her chest, like she’s on the outside of a life she used to belong to, looking in through a foggy window.

Her mind replays her failed apology, over and over, until it stings so much she has to squeeze her eyes shut for a second. It’s worse than she thought it would be.

Beside her, Paige shifts slightly, adjusting her seatbelt. Dani feels a pang of jealousy at how effortlessly Paige fits into this scene, like nothing’s changed for her. Because it hasn’t really.

The car hits a bump, jostling Dani from her thoughts, and she presses herself closer to the door, feeling like she needs to take up as little space as possible. Her chest feels tight, anxiety winding itself up inside her like a spring ready to snap. She presses her nails into the palm of her hand, a small, grounding action she’s done a million times before.

Then, out of nowhere, she feels it. The soft brush of Paige’s pinky against hers. It’s so subtle that for a second, Dani wonders if it was just her imagination. But then Paige’s pinky hooks around hers, intertwining them in a simple, quiet gesture.

Dani turns her head to look at Paige, and even though Paige is still staring at her phone, the small act of comfort is enough to pull Dani back from the edge of her spiraling thoughts. Paige knows. She always knows.

The knot of anxiety in Dani’s chest loosens just a little, and she offers Paige a small smile in return. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s a reminder that, despite everything—despite how different and weird everything feels—Paige is still here. Paige is still hers, in some way.

The silence stretches on again, thick and uncomfortable, but the connection between her and Paige helps. Dani keeps her pinky linked with Paige’s, like it’s her only lifeline in the storm of awkwardness swirling around them.

The car ride doesn’t last much longer. Soon, Jalen is pulling into the parking garage, and between him and Paige, the awkward energy in the car begins to bleed into one of excitement. Jalen’s grin is contagious, his eyes bright as he shuts the car off, and Paige is right there with him, a wide smile splitting her face.

Dani—not so much. She feels the heavy weight of the tension that’s been trailing her since the moment they got into the car, and from the way Thaliah’s sitting stiffly in her seat, Dani knows she’s not the only one. Thaliah is quieter than she’s been in the past, the sharpness in her expression tempered, but Dani can tell she’s still pissed solely because of her presence.

As they get out of the car and begin walking toward the arena, Jalen and Paige lead the way, talking animatedly about the Timberwolves’ latest games and their score predictions for today. Thaliah lingers behind them, silent, her arms crossed over her chest, and Dani is acutely aware of her presence at her side. She sees the dirty look Thaliah throws her, the subtle but deliberate shift in her body language as she moves past Dani to walk next to Jalen instead, seamlessly falling into step beside him like Dani doesn’t even exist.

Dani’s heart sinks a little further, the sting of it sharp despite everything. She already expected the cold shoulder, but seeing it—feeling it in every glance, every movement—makes it so much harder to ignore.

Paige notices it too. Dani catches the brief drop in Paige’s smile as her gaze flicks to Thaliah, eyes narrowing in irritation. Paige rolls her eyes, a quick flash of annoyance breaking through her usual composure before her grin returns. Without missing a beat, Paige wraps an arm around Dani’s shoulders, tugging her close, her body warm and familiar.

The side of Dani’s head rests against Paige’s shoulder, their height difference making the gesture feel even more intimate, like Paige is shielding her from the mess they’re all stuck in. Dani tilts her head up slightly, meeting Paige’s gaze as she grins down at her.

“This’ll be fun,” Paige says, her voice light and filled with optimism, like she’s determined to make this a good night despite everything.

Dani musters a small smile, trying to match Paige’s energy. “Yeah,” she says, but the word comes out flat, and she can see that it’s not enough for Paige.

Paige pinches Dani’s shoulder lightly, a playful edge to her voice as she nudges her again. “Come on, get excited, Dan.”

Dani forces herself to let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she leans a little closer into Paige’s warmth. “Alright, alright,” she says, her smile a little more genuine this time. “I’ll try.”

Satisfied with that, Paige’s grin widens, and she keeps her arm around Dani as they continue walking toward the arena. It helps, even if just a little. Paige has always had that effect on her, making things feel easier, less heavy. But it doesn’t completely erase the weight of Thaliah’s pointed silence, or the fact that Dani can practically feel the disdain radiating from her.

By the time they get into the arena and find their seats, Dani’s stomach is in knots again. The seating arrangement couldn’t have been worse if someone had planned it out. Jalen sits on one end, Paige right next to him, Dani beside Paige, and then Thaliah on the other side of Dani, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Thaliah doesn’t say anything, but the look on her face says enough. She lets out a quiet scoff, her gaze fixed ahead as if she’s already checked out of the evening. Dani catches the slight roll of her eyes before she shifts in her seat, visibly tense, and Dani feels the urge to disappear all over again.

Dani sighs softly, sinking further into her seat and trying to shift away from Thaliah as much as possible without making it obvious. Her side presses into Paige’s, their arms brushing, and Paige doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, Dani thinks Paige probably prefers it this way, keeping Dani close and holding her steady like she’s done a million times before.

As the arena starts to fill with the low hum of chatter and excitement, Dani finds herself leaning into Paige just a little more, seeking the comfort she knows Paige will give her without question. She feels a soft pang of guilt, wondering if she’s relying too much on Paige to make her feel better, but the alternative—sitting there in silence, stewing in her own anxiety and the cold wall between her and Thaliah—is much worse.

It’s clear pretty early on into the game that they aren’t losing this one. Minnesota’s ahead, and the energy in the arena is infectious. Every time the Timberwolves make a good play, Jalen is up on his feet, yelling, and Paige is right there with him, her voice hoarse from screaming at the top of her lungs. It’s the kind of excitement that pulls you in, makes you forget about everything else. Dani finds herself caught up in it too, even letting out a few shouts of her own when Paige eggs her on, laughing as Paige grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her gently, her enthusiasm impossible to resist.

Thaliah, though, is a different story. She’s still sitting with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, barely reacting to anything happening on the court. Every so often, Dani glances her way and all she gets is a glare in return. Being close to Paige right now—feeling her warmth, hearing her laughter in her ear—makes everything feel a lot easier, though. Paige has her arm around Dani’s shoulder again, and they’re both giggling between plays, Paige whispering jokes and comments to her every so often, just loud enough for Dani to hear. It’s been forever since they’ve felt this close, and for a moment, Dani lets herself relax into it, lets herself enjoy the game, the atmosphere, Paige.

And Jalen—he’s warming up to her again too. At first, there had been a little distance between them, but now he’s talking to her like old times, nudging her shoulder when something exciting happens and even giving her a smile that feels genuine. It’s a small relief, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, things could get back to how they used to be.

But, for Dani, Thaliah’s discontent still casts a shadow over everything. She can’t fully escape it, no matter how much fun she’s having. It’s like a weight sitting on her chest. She wants to fix what’s happened between them—Thaliah has been one of her closest friends since the fourth grade. She doesn’t want to lose that—even though, if she truly has, she supposes it is her own fault.

At one point, Thaliah stands abruptly, muttering, “I’m going to the bathroom,” her tone clipped as she walks down the aisle. Dani watches her go, and the guilt she’s been carrying with her all night surges up again. She sighs, feeling the heaviness return as she stands up as well.

“You know what, I’m gonna go too,” Dani says to Paige, her voice quieter now.

Paige frowns, her eyes flicking to Thaliah’s retreating figure before locking back onto Dani. There’s a moment of hesitation, like Paige can sense what’s really going on, the unspoken tension that Dani’s been trying to push aside. “Do you want me to come?” Paige asks, concern lacing her words.

Dani shakes her head, offering a small, strained smile. “It’s fine. I’ll be quick.”

Paige’s frown deepens for a split second, but then she nods, giving Dani a quick squeeze on the shoulder before she goes. Dani makes her way through the crowded stands and down the hallway toward the bathroom, her heart pounding harder with each step. She doesn’t exactly know what she’s going to say to Thaliah, but she knows they can’t keep avoiding each other like this. Not anymore.

When she pushes the door open, the bathroom is surprisingly empty for a busy game like this. It’s just her and Thaliah.

Thaliah stands at one of the sinks, leaning over to check her reflection in the mirror. When she sees Dani walk in, she lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes, not even bothering to hide her irritation. “Why did you follow me here?” she snaps, turning around to face Dani with crossed arms.

Dani swallows. “I wanted to talk to you. You didn’t let me apologize before, so I want to do it now.”

Thaliah scoffs, her expression hardening. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Despite the fact that she expected the response, Dani feels a pang of hurt at her words. Nevertheless, she presses on, refusing to back down. “Why won’t you even let me try?” she asks, her voice softer now. “I know I messed up, but—”

Before she can finish, Thaliah explodes.

“Because it’s not that simple, Dani!” Thaliah’s voice is sharp, her eyes flashing with anger. “You ghosted me. You. And you didn’t just ghost me, you ghosted all of us. And yeah, I get it, you and Paige are best friends, you always have been. But before all this happened, you were my best friend, too. Do you even realize that? You were my best friend, and then you just—disappeared. No explanation, no warning, nothing. And I had to sit there and watch you be fine with everyone else while I was the one who lost my best friend.”

Thaliah’s voice cracks at the last part, her hands trembling as she wipes furiously at her eyes, and Dani’s heart drops. She’s never heard Thaliah sound like this before—so raw, so hurt.

Thaliah takes a shaky breath, and when she looks at Dani again, her eyes are filled with tears. “I mean, sure, I’m close with Paige and Jalen, but it was never like how it was with you. You and me—we told each other everything. We did all the girly things that Paige and J refused to participate in. You were like my sister. And then, suddenly, it was like I didn’t even exist to you anymore. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

Dani feels her own tears welling up now, the guilt crashing over her in waves. She takes a step closer to Thaliah, her voice breaking as she tries to explain. “I—I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I swear I didn’t. I just… I was in a really, really bad place and I was looking for distractions and I didn’t know how to deal with what happened over the summer.”

Thaliah shakes her head, her tears falling freely now. “What happened, Dani? What was so bad that you couldn’t even talk to me about it?”

Dani’s throat tightens as she thinks back to the summer—how everything spiraled out of control, how she was sent away to that camp, how she shut down completely afterward. It’s hard to even think about it, let alone fucking talk about it. Opening up to Paige about it was one of the most difficult things she’s ever done.

But she owes Thaliah an explanation. She owes her more than silence.

So, Dani opens her mouth and explains.

PAIGE IS GLUED to the game, her eyes darting between the players on the court and the scoreboard. Minnesota’s still in the lead, and every play sends her and Jalen into loud cheers, their voices blending into the roar of the crowd. She’s so caught up in the excitement that for a moment, she forgets about Dani and Thaliah being gone for a while now.

But as a timeout is called, the creeping feeling of unease seeps into her chest. It’s been too long since they left. Paige starts to wonder if something went wrong. Her mind drifts to outrageous scenarios like Thaliah jumping Dani in the bathroom or the pair rage-screaming at one another. She should’ve gone with them, Paige thinks, her foot tapping anxiously as she debates whether she should go check on them.

Just as she’s about to make a decision, Paige catches movement out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head and sees them—Thaliah and Dani walking down the aisle toward their seats. As they get closer, Paige notices the remnants of tears on both of their faces, their eyes bloodshot and a bit puffy, like they’ve both been crying.

Her stomach tightens. Did something happen?

But then she sees something else—something that surprises her. They’re smiling. Not big, exaggerated smiles, but small, genuine ones, the kind that tell her things aren’t as bad as they seem.

When they sit back down, Dani takes her spot next to Paige, and Thaliah settles back into her seat on the end. Paige’s eyes flit between the two of them, trying to gauge the situation. She can’t help but blurt out, “Uh, is everything okay?”

Dani and Thaliah exchange a tiny smile before Dani turns to Paige. Her smile is soft, and before Paige can process it, Dani’s pinky hooks around hers. It’s the smallest gesture, but it sends a jolt through Paige, her heart pounding twice as fast as before. She can barely focus on anything else, her eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers. She did it before with Dani, in the car, but it means so much more to Paige when it’s the Callan girl initiating it.

“Yeah,” Dani says, her voice light, like a weight has been lifted. “We’re great.”

Paige exhales in relief, her shoulders sagging as the tension she didn’t even realize she was holding slips away. She glances over at Jalen, who seems to have noticed the shift too. His eyebrows raise for a moment before he grins, the same ease settling over him as well.

With that, the atmosphere around them changes. The tension that had been hanging in the air for most of the night dissolves, replaced with a warmth that feels almost nostalgic. It’s like things are finally starting to feel normal again, like the cracks between them have truly started to mend. Paige doesn’t know what exactly happened between Dani and Thaliah in that bathroom, but she can tell it’s something important—something that has brought them closer, and by extension, all of them closer.

Now, they’re all locked in on the game again, but this time, the mood is lighter, more carefree. Laughing, cheering, yelling. Paige is wrapped up in it all—Jalen’s infectious energy, Dani’s quiet giggling beside her, Thaliah’s occasional smile.

When the Timberwolves win, the place erupts, and so do they. Jalen’s on his feet, yelling like he’s won the game himself. Dani and Paige share a wide grin, their pinkies still linked, and even Thaliah’s laughing and cheering now.

The ride home is great, too, the tension from the day dissolved into laughter and easy conversation. Paige can’t stop smiling, her heart lighter than it’s been in weeks. Jalen’s blasting music, and he and Thaliah are in the middle of a ridiculous debate about the best Timberwolves player of all time, while Dani chimes in with little comments that show her lack of NBA knowledge (but, it’s okay, Paige has to give it to her—Dani’s much more versed on the women’s side of things). It feels like old times, like everything is clicking back into place, and Paige can’t help but soak it in.

Jalen drops them off first, pulling into Paige’s driveway. She and Dani both wave at him and Thaliah as they drive away. The car’s taillights fade into the distance, leaving just the two of them standing in the driveway under the quiet suburban night sky.

Suddenly, the lively energy from the car ride fades into something softer, quieter. The silence between them feels heavier now, almost awkward, but not in a bad way—just charged. Paige feels the weight of it, a kind of tension that makes her hyper-aware of how close they’re standing, the cool night air brushing against her skin.

They both glance over at Dani’s house next door. It’s dark, a single light on in the kitchen, and Paige wonders if Dani is going to head back home now. She doesn’t want her to. The idea of the night ending like this feels wrong somehow. Paige shifts on her feet, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie, trying to find the right words without sounding desperate or clingy.

“So, uh,” Paige starts, her voice quiet, “you wanna… come inside? I mean, we could, like, have a sleepover or something. You know, like old times.”

She bites her lip, not wanting to pressure Dani but also not wanting to be without her. She half-expects Dani to hesitate or maybe even say no, to come up with some excuse about being tired or needing to go home. But to her surprise, Dani doesn’t hesitate at all. Instead, she smiles softly at Paige, her eyes warm and familiar in a way that makes Paige’s chest flutter.

“Sure,” Dani says, shrugging like it’s the easiest decision in the world. “I told my dad I was staying at Serena’s house anyway.”

Paige grins, a laugh bubbling up before she can stop it. “That bitch,” she says, shaking her head, knowing Serena has no idea she’s covering for Dani tonight, especially because the pair are certainly not friends anymore.

Dani laughs too, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that bitch.”

The air feels lighter now, the awkwardness between them disappearing as they head toward the front door. Paige unlocks it as quietly as she can, her heart beating a little faster at the thought of spending the night with Dani, just like they used to. It’s been so long since things were simple between them. So much has changed, but right now, it feels like they’ve found a piece of that simplicity again.

Inside, the house is dark and still. Paige’s dad and Drew must already be asleep, and she’s careful to keep the noise to a minimum as they slip upstairs to her room. When they reach her bedroom, Paige flips on the lamp by her bedside, casting a warm glow over the space. Dani immediately flops onto the bed like she belongs there, and Paige follows, laying down next to her.

They’re both quiet for a moment, just staring at the ceiling, the comfort of being back in each other’s space washing over them. Paige turns her head, looking at Dani from the side, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You want pajamas?”

“Sure,” Dani says, voice soft and relaxed.

Paige gets up, heading to her dresser and grabbing one of her oversized basketball t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. She tosses them to Dani, who sits up to catch them, and then Paige pulls out her own pajamas. She starts changing, pulling off her hoodie and t-shirt, when she glances back at Dani.

Dani’s back is to her, bare as she pulls off her own shirt to change into Paige’s. The lamplight casts a soft glow on her skin, and for a second too long, Paige’s eyes linger. She doesn’t mean to stare, but something about the sight of Dani’s bare back, the curve of her shoulder blades, the way her hair falls loosely against her neck, makes her pause. Fuck.

Paige’s breath catches, her fingers frozen mid-way through pulling off her hoodie. She blinks, quickly looking away, shaking her head to clear the sudden rush of thoughts. She tells herself to get it together, to not think of Dani quite like that quite yet. She needs more time.

Paige turns back around, facing the opposite direction as she finishes changing, tugging on her own pajama shirt and shorts. By the time she’s done, she feels a little more in control of herself, though the memory of Dani’s bare back is still burned into her mind.

When she faces her bed again, Dani is already lying back down on the comforter, now dressed in Paige’s clothes. The sight of Dani in her shirt, her shorts hanging loosely on Dani’s hips, does something to Paige, makes her stomach flip in a way that’s both exciting and terrifying.

But she pushes the feeling aside, climbing into bed next to Dani. And it’s not long before they’re curled up under the covers, watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days—Dani’s pick, of course. It’s one of those movies she’s obsessed with, knows every line by heart. Normally, Paige would tease her about it, making fun of how she could watch it a million times, but right now, she can’t even think about anything other than how close they are.

Her room is freezing—like, Minnesota-in-the-dead-of-winter kind of freezing—and they’ve naturally started gravitating toward each other for warmth. Dani’s pressed up against Paige, her head resting on the blonde’s shoulder, her arm draped lazily across Paige’s waist. Paige has one arm around the brunette, and as much as she’s trying to focus on the movie, trying to lock her eyes on the screen, it’s hard. Really hard.

Because Dani’s skin is warm. Her legs are tangled with Paige’s under the blankets, her breath soft and steady against Paige’s neck, and all of it is making the basketball player’s heart race in ways she’s desperately trying to ignore. She tells herself it’s just because it’s cold, because this is what best friends do, but her body is betraying her. Every time Dani shifts, every time her fingers brush against Paige’s side, it feels like a shot of electricity running through the blonde, and suddenly, the cold is the least of her worries.

Paige swallows, forcing herself to focus on the movie. She’s watching Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson argue about something stupid on the screen, but her mind’s not there. It’s on Dani. Paige has got this growing warmth in her chest, and it’s spreading fast, heating up every part of her.

She tries to push the thoughts out of her head. Dani’s been through so much, and the last thing Paige wants to do is push her or make her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t even know if Dani’s ready for anything after everything that happened with her dad and… well, everything else. She doesn’t want to be the one to rush her into anything, not when she’s finally here, back in Paige’s bed, back with Paige.

But then Dani shifts again, snuggling closer, and Paige feel the smoothness of her thigh against her own. She can’t help it; her heart skips a beat. She take a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it’s getting harder to think straight. The scent of Dani’s shampoo, the way her hand rests on Paige’s stomach—it’s all too much.

The blonde turns her head slightly, glancing down at Dani. She’s watching the movie, but Paige can tell she’s not fully focused either. Her eyes flicker to Paige’s, and in the dim light from the TV, the Bueckers girl can see something there—something that makes her stomach flip.

For a second, they just stare at each other, the space between them shrinking by the second. Paige’s heart pounds so hard she swears the girl beside her can hear it. But this is it. Paige knows it, and she can’t look away. The way Dani’s looking at her—it’s like everything that’s been building between them for weeks is finally about to snap.

And then it does.

Surprisingly, Dani’s the one who moves first. She leans in, closing the gap between them, and presses her lips to Paige’s. It’s soft at first, tentative, like she’s testing the waters, but the second Paige feels the warmth of her mouth on her own, she’s gone. Her brain short-circuits, and all the restraint she’s been trying to maintain disappears.

Paige kisses her back, probably a little too enthusiastically, but she can’t help it. One of her hands instinctively moves to the back of Dani’s neck, Paige’s fingers tangling in the girl’s brown hair as she pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. Dani tastes like the strawberry chapstick Paige watched her put on earlier, and her lips are soft and warm and everything the blonde has been dying to feel for longer than she cares to admit.

Dani’s kissing her back now, harder, her body pressing into Paige’s as they lie there, tangled in the sheets. Paige’s mind screams at her to stop, to slow down, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to. Her heart pounds in her chest, and every nerve in her body is on fire. The feel of Dani, the warmth of her skin, the way she moves against Paige—it’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and all the point guard wants is more.

Paige knows she should stop. She knows that if she’s not careful, she’ll scare Dani away again, just like before. She can’t mess this up. She can’t. But still, she doesn’t stop. She feels Dani’s fingers gripping her shirt, pulling Paige closer, and it feels like Dani doesn’t want Paige to stop either.

So she doesn’t.

Instead, she deepens the kiss, her hand sliding from the back of Dani’s neck down to her waist, holding her there like she’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Dani lets out a soft sigh against Paige’s lips, and it sends a shiver down the blonde’s spine. God.

In a sudden shift, Paige find herself on top of Dani, her knees sinking into the bed as she presses down against the brunette. Paige’s hands dig into Dani’s waist, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her fingertips. Paige can’t help but smile against Dani’s mouth, a thrill washing over her. Dani’s hands find their way into Paige’s hair, tangling in the strands, and the blonde shivers at the sensation. Dani’s so responsive, so willing, and it makes Paige feel exhilarated and relieved all at once.

As she kisses Dani, a wave of pure elation washes over Paige, and she realizes just how much she’s longed for this. She didn’t know how much she needed her like this until now. Paige can feel Dani’s warmth radiating up through and into Paige’s own body, and every touch ignites a spark that sends the blonde’s heart racing.

Paige starts to kiss along the Callan girl’s cheek, trailing her lips down her jawline, savoring the way Dani reacts. Her sighs are intoxicating, a melody Paige never wants to stop hearing. When she kisses along the brunette’s neck, a soft gasp escapes her lips, and it fills Paige with a sense of pride that she can elicit that kind of response from her. It’s fucking perfect.

Paige’s hands instinctively wander beneath the hem of Dani’s—well, technically her own—shirt, fingers gliding across her soft skin. The moment Paige realizes Dani’s not wearing a bra, her breath hitches. A rush of heat floods through her, a mix of surprise and unrestrained want that makes her heart race even faster.

Paige finds one of Dani’s breasts, wrapping her hand around it. She squeezes lightly, her thumb brushing over Dani’s nipple. Dani’s hand tightens in Paige’s hair and she’s pulling Paige back so that their lips are connected once more. Paige’s tongue slips its way into Dani’s mouth and she kneads her breast again, making Dani whimpers a little into the kiss. It only makes Paige kiss her harder. Dani’s lips feel like home against Paige’s, and the blonde can’t get enough of the taste of her, the softness that send shivers down her spine. Paige’s hands roam over Dani’s body, exploring, seeking, and finding every inch of skin that sends electric jolts through them both.

As Paige traces her fingers along Dani’s waist, she feels almost a magnetic pull drawing her lower. Her hand eventually finds the waistband of the loose pajama shorts Dani’s wearing, and Paige pauses there, heart racing, uncertainty flooding her mind. She’s kissing along the brunette’s neck, savoring her warmth, but Paige’s thoughts are tangled in fear. She doesn’t want to push Dani into something she isn’t ready for. The last thing she wants is to scare her away after they’ve fought so hard to get back here.

Paige breathes deeply, stealing a glance at Dani’s face, looking for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. But Dani doesn’t pull away, doesn’t hesitate. Instead, her grip on Paige’s hair tightens, and the blonde can feel Dani’s hips lift slightly against her, a silent permission that sends Paige’s heart soaring.

Emboldened by Dani’s response, Paige slips her fingers beneath the waistband of the shorts, her pulse quickening at the contact. She’s careful, her movements tentative as she goes beneath the hem of Dani’s underwear, too. Paige finds Dani’s clit easily enough, circling it slowly, carefully. The way Dani gasps at the touch is intoxicating, and Paige swallows the sound with another deep kiss, savoring the taste of Dani’s moans against her mouth.

Paige’s fingers move with more purpose now, circling Dani’s clit a couple more times before sliding her hand down slightly, pushing her middle finger inside. Paige hears Dani’s breath catch and so does her own as she feels Dani’s wetness coat her finger.

Paige has done this with other girls, done this with Dani once before, too—that summer night before everything went to shit. But this feels different; it feels better, deeper, as if all the months apart have heightened every sensation. Paige revels in it, enjoying the way Dani moves beneath her touch, the way she leans into Paige, wanting more.

Dani’s fingers are still tangled in Paige’s hair, pulling her closer, urging her on, and every gasp and sigh she releases ignites something within Paige. Paige’s lips linger along Dani’s jaw as she pushes her hand deeper into her pajama shorts, her middle finger pumping in and out of Dani’s entrance slowly. Paige is hyper-aware of the way the Callan girl’s breath quickens, how it becomes shaky and uneven as Paige’s finger moves slowly but surely.

Dani gasps again, mumbling as she shifts beneath the blonde a little, “P.” Her voice is desperate, like she needs more.

Paige hums, nodding against Dani, knowing exactly what to do. She slips another finger inside, stretching Dani out, pushing in and out, in and out, building a rhythm. Dani’s lips part and a moan slips out from beneath them. God, Paige could get lost in the sounds. Each whimper and moan that escapes Dani’s lips sends a thrill through the blonde, a rush of satisfaction that makes her want to hear more. It’s as if every sound that Dani makes is a piece of music Paige never knew she needed, and she wants to hit repeat, to keep her best friend whimpering like that for as long as possible. Each gasp, each sigh, it’s like a drug, and Paige is completely hooked.

Nevertheless, she knows that they have to be quiet. Her dad’s room is right next door, and Paige has no interest in waking him up and having him realize what exactly is going on in his daughter’s room. So, she presses her mouth back on Dani’s, swallowing her moans, humming in approval at the feeling.

Paige pushes her fingers deeper, a little harder, feeling the way Dani shivers beneath her. When Paige feels Dani lift her hips to meet her hand, bucking up, Paige knows she’s found the rhythm and the spot Dani needs. Paige smiles into their kiss, her teeth nipping a little at the brunette’s bottom lip. Dani responds eagerly, her hand that’s on the back of Paige’s neck pulling her closer, until there’s practically no space to even breathe. Paige doesn't care.

“Like that?” Paige whispers against Dani’s lips, keeping her voice low and steady, wanting Dani to know she can be honest with her. Paige feels Dani nod against her, her eyes half-lidded and glazed over as she manages to hum out a soft, “Mhm-hm.” Paige grins a little at the response, her tongue slipping back into Dani’s mouth as she kisses her harder.

Paige focuses on the spot she’s found, her fingers pressing in just the right way. The way Dani arches her back and digs her nails into the blonde’s neck tells Paige everything she needs to know. She curls her fingers in a come hither motion and it makes Dani’s hips stutter a little, the brunette gasping Paige’s name into her mouth.

“Doin’ so good for me, Dan,” Paige encourages, her voice barely above a whisper, urging her best friend on. She can feel Dani tightening around her fingers, feel her getting wetter and wetter with each thrust of Paige’s fingers. Paige hits that spot again and again, her thumb reaching up to circle Dani’s clit.

Dani’s breathing becomes more erratic, quick bursts of air escaping her lips as Paige continues to work her fingers, pushing her closer and closer. “So pretty, Dani,” Paige murmurs, even though she’s not sure if the girl can hear her over the sound of her own gasps. But Paige needs her to know—she deserves to hear it, to feel it in every part of her. “You’re so pretty.”

Suddenly, Paige feels Dani’s body tense, feels the way she’s clenching around her fingers. Dani’s nails are digging into the back of Paige’s neck, her grip tightening. Paige works her fingers harder, faster, hitting that spot again and again and again until her hand is cramping, but it doesn’t deter her. She keeps going until Dani’s muttering, “God, Paige, I’m gonna—” and she’s gushing around Paige’s fingers.

Dani’s body shudders beneath the blonde, her hips lifting instinctively to meet Paige’s touch as she helps her ride through her orgasm. Paige is lost in the way Dani’s body reacts, the way she clings to her as if she’s her lifeline. It’s everything Paige has ever wanted.

As she finishes, Paige feels Dani relax against her, her body softening, and Paige pulls her fingers out slowly. She pulls away from Dani a little, to see her face. Dani’s smiling lazily at her, and it makes Paige smile, too. Paige leans down to kiss her again, deeply, savoring the way their lips fit together.

I love you. Paige wants to say it. She’s never wanted to say anything more. But she doesn’t, instead keeps her mouth on Dani’s, afraid that she’ll ruin the moment and scare Dani away.

As the kiss ends, Paige gently rolls off of Dani, settling so they’re lying side by side. Dani’s arm drapes over Paige’s waist, and Paige pulls her closer, the feel of Dani’s steady breathing against her chest soothing in a way that grounds her.

They’re both quiet now, the sounds of the movie filling the room. Dani nestles into Paige, her face resting in the crook of Paige’s neck, and it makes Paige’s heart swell. There’s something so innocent, so peaceful about the way Dani clings to her, trusting and content.

It doesn’t take long before Dani’s breaths become slow and even, and Paige realizes she’s fallen asleep. Paige glances down at her, taking in the sight of her best friend—her person—so calm and safe in her arms. Dani looks so different like this, her usual guard completely down, her features soft and untroubled.

But as Paige watches her sleep, her thoughts begin to drift. She can’t help but think about all the shit Dani’s been through—the conversion therapy, the isolation, the fear. A tightness forms in Paige’s chest, a knot of guilt that’s been there for months. She knows some of it is her fault. She was the one that kissed Dani on the porch that night, right in front of the camera. Maybe if she’d waited until they got inside, Dani’s dad would’ve never found out and none of this would have happened.

Paige’s jaw clenches as she thinks about Dani’s father. The man who sent her to that camp, who made her believe there was something wrong with her. The anger that bubbles up inside Paige is almost overwhelming. She hates him for what he’s done to Dani, for the pain he’s caused her.

She presses a soft kiss to the top of Dani’s head, her fingers brushing lightly through her hair. Paige just wants to protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her happy. And most of all, keep her away from him—from the man who nearly destroyed her. Still, she knows that’s unrealistic. Dani lives with her father—he provides for her, he’s her guardian and shes still a minor.

Paige sighs, tightening her grip around Dani, holding her a little closer, a silent promise to herself that she’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Dani never feels that kind of pain again. She’ll be there, she’ll fight for her, and she won’t let Dani’s father mess with what they have.

As the weight of the day starts to pull at her, Paige closes her eyes, resting her cheek against Dani’s hair. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days plays on, but Paige isn’t paying attention to it anymore. All that matters is this—Dani here with her, the two of them together.

[peachesofteal]

read dd zombie au as a horror and zombie enthusiast and I had to say this-

what if darling was bitten but somehow "immune"?

she gets bit, symptoms come in but strangely she doesn't turn. she hungers like a zombie but the thought of hurting someone brings her back.

johnny and simon are kinda happy. you're not a zombie! yay! but the blueish bite on your shoulder says otherwise. at night, they tie your hands to your waist and bind your mouth shut, but apart from sleepy shuffling and grumbling, you don't seem to want to eat them.

the bagged mre's they try to feed you make you gag unless it's suspicious patties, so they guessed you were hungry, just not enough to try to eat them.

strongly believe that johnny treats you like a child. hand feeds you your meals that you reluctantly chew on, washes your hair and braids it ( he knows you hate waking up with tangled hair ) even brushes your teeth for you. he does this because you're too weak and tired to do it yourself ( no he doesn't. he does it because he hates seeing you like this, wishes he could cure you, but he can't. so he makes sure you eat and drink. he needs you. )

simon has seen so many people die to the virus that it feels unreal to him. he's still waiting for you to suddenly snap at him. however, watching the way you stare at him and johnny like you genuinely are there, it reassures him. he tries to talk, have conversations with you, make sure you remember. he despises having to leave you, though. he feels that if he take his eyes off you for a second you might pass or turn.

by the two week mark, you're getting better. the dark circles under your eyes are fading and the hollow dent of your cheeks is getting fuller. the mre's still make you gag, but it seems you'd rather eat those than a squirrel.

there's hope, they think. but if people find out you're immune... they'll try to take you away.

you can't leave them. they'll make sure no one takes you.

BITCH (affectionately) the way this is so fucking good. I LOVE a caretaking fic (clearly) and a protective Simon and Johnny. Love the idea of them on the run, hiding you, protecting you from those who are hunting immunes. Honestly could be an entire book. This scratches my itch so well. Love your brain.

Johnny just wants to take care of you. He knows you’re still in there, knows you’d be so distraught if you realized how filthy they’d let you become, so he takes him time leading you down to the creek by the campsite. He uses one of the t shirts they’ve been using as a washcloth to sponge you clean, humming sweetly to gentle you as you flinch against the water. Your skin is starting to turn back to its normal color now, a recent development that they both feel good about, and you’ve become more sensitive to temperature, occasionally shivering against the chilled cloth. Simon keeps watch, and you watch too, tracking Johnny’s hands with sluggish eyes and a half open mouth, tongue flicking between your teeth.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re preparing to take a bit out of him-

“Just gon’ brush yer teeth, darling.” He cradles your jaw with strong fingers and your brow furrows, confused when he pops your mouth wide, the little toothbrush you packed for yourself when you evacuated lightly scrubbing across your bottom teeth.

“Be careful, Johnny.” Simon warns, but he clucks his tongue.

“She’s alright. Cannae hurt me.” He knows you wouldn’t. You already would have, at night. Already would have turned on them, ripped their jugulars free with your teeth when they slept.

But you wouldn’t. Because you’re still in there. You’re still darling.

Once he’s done, fixed your hair so that it’s up but not weighing your scalp down, ensured it’s in place how you like, he passes you to Simon so he can make dinner.

Simon walks patrol at this time, and you go with him, listlessly walking at his side.

“D’ya remember last summer, when we all went to that carnival? You were so excited. Made Johnny and I play that bloody ring game against one another. You were so chuffed, I swear I can still hear you giggling when Johnny beat me the first time.” You moaned in response, something that didn’t sound quite like words, but more positive to negative.

Something catches his eye. A deer in the woods. A doe. Sizable. He glances from you, to it.

“Darling.” He holds your shoulder, trying to jog your gaze. “Darling, I need you to stay here.” He doesn’t want to leave you, but if he can get closer, he can get a clean shot off. You stare at him, and he sighs. “Alright.”

He makes it ten meters before the brush rustles behind him, the sight of you lumbering slowly towards where he’s crouched. You’re staring past him, watching doe with a glazed over look, and he tenses.

Once you get to his side, you look down to where he’s kneeling behind a bush, and then you start to, painfully slow, crouch beside him, fingers lightly brushing against his thigh.

You look at him, and then at the deer with a grunt. The hope that blooms in his heart is infectious, and he can’t fight it. He won’t.

Weeks later, they’re on the road when they come across a group of others.

You’ve improved, greatly, but your ability to speak never came back. You can’t talk, only point and make little noises here and there, and your fine motor skills are still struggling, (Johnny is still brushing your teeth for you, and feeding you. He doesn’t complain, they both have always loved taking care of you) and your pace is very slow, like you’re sore, and always tired. Simon is careful to go easy, not wanting to do anything to stress you or make your condition worse.

The bite mark on your neck has never gone away. It’s a scar now, rough and raised flesh like a fucking beacon on your skin. They usually keep something tied to it, but for some reason on this day, you had pulled it free, and they never noticed.

But the others did.

“Is that a bite?” One of them says, and Simon tenses, positioning himself in front of you, Johnny pulling you into his chest, protective arm across your shoulders.

“No.” Simon tells them, but they don’t buy it. One them stares at you, greed dripping from his gaze.

“Heard there were immunes out there somewhere. NHS is offering a big payday for one alive. Or dead.” He licks his lips, and Simon shakes his head.

“Trust us. Ye dinnae want to do this.” Johnny calls, but the group is already staring at you like you’re worth your weight in gold.

There’s five of them, versus Simon and Johnny, but they like the odds.

They’ve got bullets in three before you even realize what’s happening, Simon’s blade buried in the flesh of another’s neck in a flash, Johnny pressing his weight into the last one on the ground.

“He’ll tell others.” He spits over his shoulder, and Simon nods.

He will. And they can’t allow that. Can’t allow anyone to know about you.

The last thing the man sees is Johnny’s hands around his neck, and you watching half interested over his shoulder, half bored.

[sigloverofwords]

let me wrap my teeth around the world

An Astarion x spawn!Tav fanfic

Series warnings: violence, injury, abuse, self injury, suicidal ideation, animal death, rape (past), ptsd, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, scars, panic attacks, manipulation, transformations

Summary: You awake at the nautiloid crash, wounded and starving but free of your Master for the first time in your life. You’re determined to get as far away from Him as possible, and finally get some answers about your existence. Fortunately for you, you stumble upon another spawn. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you.

Your ability to transform into a monster quickly changes his mind, though.

Posted to AO3 first!

Author’s Note: this is a y/n-free second person slow burn hurt eventual comfort fic. Lots of heavy stuff addressed, please take care of yourself and don’t read if any of the warning subjects are triggering to you.

2k+ word chapters

Chapter 3 (prev)

Astarion points out the path to the West and you walk along in silence for most of the morning. Lost in thought, you don’t notice the way he glances over at you, eyes narrowed into crimson slits as he studies you like a collector examines a pinned and mounted bug. 

Your own mind is busy piecing together your memories of the last week. Between your multiple bouts of unconsciousness and the havoc that transformation always wrecks on your body and mind, memories of your recent past are as disconnected and fleeting as lightning strikes. Carefully you trace back your steps, starting with the forest you now walk through.

Forest, druid grove, beach, nautiloid wreck, mindflayer pod…

Your throat closes a little at the flash of memory of the pod. You had come to in a haze, blood clotted over familiar wounds, fading bruises in rings around your neck. The pod had been too warm, the air heavy and humid around you, filling your lungs like blood. You had barely had the strength to try and turn away when the mind flayer forced the tadpole into you, let alone fight back. 

The feeling of the worm wrapping its needle-like teeth around your eye and wiggling back to press into your brain, biting and ripping to make room for itself, was almost the worst thing you’d ever experienced. 

A shadow crosses your face and you startle backwards, suddenly back in the present. Your heel hits a raised tree root and your lips part in surprise, arms flying out to try and stop your fall, but it’s too late and you can feel yourself heading for the hard ground. 

Before you slam into the dirt, a hand catches your wrist and hauls you back to your feet, steadying you.

“Careful there,” Astarion drawls. “Wouldn’t want to muddy those new robes so quickly.”

He’s too close, eyes too sharp, grip too tight. Your eyes widen, chest caving in around lungs that can’t hold enough air. Before you can stop it, you imagine pushing him away and fleeing to familiar arms to be cradled by hands that drip with your own blood. It makes you freeze, and you fight an invisible battle to force that instinct far, far down. 

He isn’t your home, he hasn’t been for a long time. Don’t fucking think of him like that.

You have to clench your jaw to fight back the urge to either scream or throw up. Maybe both.

In contrast, your companion is utterly unruffled. His eyes find your wrist, slim fingers unfolding like petals to reveal the mess of your skin. You watch him carefully, so you spot the almost imperceptible twitch of his eye, the shallow swallow that makes his throat bob.

“Not the prettiest mark to be left with,” you say finally, voice frustratingly weak as you claw composure back from the war inside you.

Astarion drops your wrist suddenly, turning away.

“Looks like someone didn’t learn their lesson the first time,” he says sharply. They were words meant to sting, but you had long been impervious to biting little barbs. 

You trail after him.

“Contrary to the impression I’ve given thus far, I don’t cry easily, so you’ll have to try harder than that to earn my tears again,” you say. It’s true, before the last 24 hours, you can’t remember the last time you cried. It was as if the tadpole was stripping away layers of defenses you’ve erected over the years, a double edged sword that you weren’t entirely happy with. In most cases you’d found dead eyes and unemotional reactions serve you better than weeping and flailing, but the release you’d felt at letting yourself tear up even a little had been welcome.

Now, with the sun and fresh air around you, your wrists free of all but the memory of restraint, you are finally starting to feel more like yourself. You push the last remnants of your tainted instincts away and take a deep breath.

“So, Astarion,” you say, forging bravely forward despite the cutting look he sends you. “How long have you been turned?”

The elf turns his eyes upwards, as if beseeching a god for patience.

“Good gods, you must be new,” he says. Each patronizing word drips with condescension. “You just jumped from ‘hello, my name is’ to ‘how much do you make a year and do you think your parents really loved each other, or you?’” 

You frown, tilting your head a little in confusion.

“I’m not new.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? Could have fooled me, little monster.”

You stiffen, but the nickname isn’t imbued with any venom, so you simply scowl.

“I…haven’t been around a lot of spawn,” you confess through gritted teeth.

“Obviously. You manners are atrocious, but surely you must have picked up some form of decorum, even in Neverwinter?”

He glances over to see you glowering at him and chuckles.

“If you want to pull off the intimidating stare, darling, you’d do better in your other form.”

“Stop talking about it,” you snap, shame and guilt wrapping their hot hands around your spine and electrifying your nerves. Without thinking, you push past Astarion, stomping ahead on the path. You were starting to seriously regret your choice of traveling companion.

Of all the spawn I meet it has to be the one with a silver spoon up his arse.

You fume, throwing various profanity at him under your breath. This was going to be your plan for the foreseeable future, or at least until you got tired of scowling at the ground, but something pulls you from your anger. The familiar, sharp scent of blood teases your nose.

Your head jerks up, and your steps immediately soften. In an instant, Astarion is at your side, also moving silently. The two of you head to where the forest breaks ahead of you, slipping in and out of shadows. A quietly running river has worn a small gully in the land, but a sturdy stone bridge crosses it. The raise of the bridge blocks your sight, but you can practically see the tendrils of scent that beckon you from the other side.

“Blood,” you say quietly. Beside you, Astarion looks tense and drawn, a strange pallor to his skin.

“I smell it,” he replies. 

Surprisingly in sync, the two of you head for the bridge.

As soon as you reach the crest you can see the carnage laid out before you. Human adventurers and goblins alike lay slaughtered, their bodies abandoned where they fell, pools of blood staining the cobblestones. 

“What happened?” You wonder aloud. Astarion scoffs.

“Who cares? Let’s see if they have any valuables.”

He starts towards them, but something makes you reach out and catch his sleeve.

“Wait—”

An arrow buzzes past his nose, interrupting your warning. Then you spot them: goblins, perched in a few trees on the far bank of the river, and concealed along a crumbling wall that encircles whatever poor town they took over.

“Shit!”

Astarion backpedals quickly. The two of you run back for cover on the other side of the river, black tipped goblin arrows clattering to the stone in a hail right behind you.

When you reach the treeline you start to slow, but Astarion yells back at you.

“Keep running! Those bastards have our scent now, they won’t stop til they kill us or we kill them!”

Thus motivated, you kept running.

What had been a whole morning’s walk melts away under the speed of two scared spawn. Although neither of you are too much faster than a fit human, you both have more stamina, free of a beating heart to struggle to keep up with you.

Still, you know you haven’t fed in far too long, and when you finally misplace a step you can’t stop yourself from falling. Astarion isn’t there to save you this time, and you plow into the ground. Your head is swimming and you can’t feel your fingers anymore. The scent of earth and plants fills your nose, the cool dirt a welcome relief to your fear-flushed skin.

Astarion spins around when he hears you collapse.

“Oh for fucks-” he races back, but your muscles have given out, and you can do little more than loll an arm over his shoulders. You can hear the chittering of the goblins, who have given relentless chase since the bridge. Something rustles in the forest ahead too, and you could almost laugh if you weren’t delirious with hunger and over-exertion. 

Of course they got in front of us, too. Just my luck.

Then the unexpected happens.

Out of the foliage around the path bursts a party of adventurers, so mismatched and different that you couldn’t imagine them together in any other context.

At the lead is a githyanki woman, teeth bared in a snarl and sword already raised as she dashes past you and slams into the first goblin. A dark-skinned human is close on her heels, his jaw set and a glimmer in his eye. He dispatches the nearest goblin with an adroit twitch of his blade, moving to another like a dance.

A middle-aged human man skids to a stop next to you, raising his staff and chanting. As three glowing missiles fly from him to twist and wend to the charging goblins, a final figure stops beside you.

You look up into the serious, scarred face of a young woman. Her dark eyes are hard and severe.

“Come on,” she says shortly. With her help, Astarion is able to lift you and get you off the path. After making sure you’re out of the line of fire, the woman turns and dives head-first into the fray, although the other three have it mostly wrapped up by now.

The gith impales the final goblin with a satisfied nod, then withdraws her sword and flicks the dark blood from the tip.

The other human—the swordsman, not the wizard—approaches and drops to his knee before you and Astarion with a friendly smile.

“You alright?” he asks. You blink, still processing the fact that you’re not currently a goblin arrow-cushion.

“We are now,” Astarion answers for you. “That was a well-timed appearance.”

The man stands and holds out his hand. 

You reason that it’s far past time for you to get off the ground and introduce yourself, so you get to your feet. Although you’re a little more unsteady than you’d like, you manage it with minimal embarrassment, and hold out your hand.

“Tav,” you offer.

“The Blade of the Frontiers, at your service,” he says. His voice and stature is full of the heroism you had thought a thing only in story books. “Although, my friends call me Wyll.”

The girl who helped you off the road seems to roll her eyes at this.

Astarion is about to reply when he doubles over with a groan of pain. Wyll does the same, as do the others behind him. You step back in shock, barely noticing the tremors of pain in your own head. There’s a hint of something around the edges of your mind, like a dog sniffing around a closed door to try and get inside. A moment later it passes and Astarion straightens with a gasp.

“What—”

“You’ve got a tadpole too,” Wyll says. The gith seems to curse under her breath at this.

“I, well, yes,” Astarion replies. “What was that?”

“The tadpole. At least, as far as we can tell,” the other man says, stepping forward. “Gale of Waterdeep, at your service.”

And with that, it’s introductions all around. The girl who pulled you from danger is Shadowheart, a name that makes Astarion purse his lips with faux sympathy. 

“Her parents must have hated her,” he whispers to you when attention is momentarily off of you both. You give him a sharp look and a jab with your elbow that you hope communicate “try not to antagonize the people who saved our lives” but just makes him grin.

The gith is Lae’zel, and seems incredibly put out by this entire experience.

“We have now lost time and resources,” she says, every word clipped short. “Between your ridiculous demand to rescue that druid and now helping every helpless istik that crosses your path we will be ghaik before we even see the creche.”

Shadowheart scowls, annoyed, but Wyll maintains his chipper attitude.

“No loss at all, Lae’zel,” he reassures her, then turns to survey you and Astarion with a critical, but not unfriendly, eye.

“These two are under the same pressure we are.”

He addresses Astarion directly.

“We’re searching for a cure, and our best chance is the druid Halsin, who’s fallen into enemy hands. If you can fight, another blade is always welcome.”

“How can I say no to such a tempting offer?” Astarion replies lazily, then looks down slightly at you with a wicked grin.

“What do you say, dear sister? Shall we join forces with our brave rescuers?”

You give a weak smile in reply.

“As you say,” you reply.

“Fantastic!” Wyll claps his hands together. Gale surveys you both with mild concern, and Shadowheart and Lae’zel both seem unamused by the entire conversation.

“As long as they can fight,” the gith says finally, spinning on her heel and marching away. Shadowheart shrugs and follows.

“We can,” you say, stepping forward as the rest of the group starts to move. “Fight, I mean.”

Astarion rests an arm around your shoulders, the casual touch making you want to rip said arm off. You settle for glaring at him, which he easily ignores.

“I can fight,” he corrects. “My sister’s skills lie elsewhere.”

Gale brightens slightly.

“Cooking? Another hand at the fire would always be welcome.”

“Perfect,” Astarion replies smoothly on your behalf, making you sigh.

Let it be on his head, then, when they all find out you can’t cook for shit.

[justice4billiam]

I'm gonna title this :

Nose Ring

Y'all wanna hear an embarrassing thing that happened to me today? 🤭😂😭

So. I have a nose ring. I've had a nose ring for YEARS. I had just recently changed the stud to a hoop again. Not that big of a deal, right?

UNTIL IT SNAGS ON YOUR HOODIE AS YOUR TAKING IT OFF AND YOU GET STUCK WITH THE HOODIE OVER YOUR HEAD.

Naturally, I panicked 🙂

Cuz that bish HURT. It was stuck good and proper.

I panicked and started reeling backwards. REALLY FAST.

Oops forgot to mention, I WAS AT THE CINEMA.

There were people everywhere outside the movie rooms because it was right before the movie I was seeing started(Lisa Frankenstein in case anyone was wondering)

So there I was, my hoodie snagged over my head and like I said practically panic-walking backwards like a freaking cat who got a plastic bag stuck around its neck.

I walked so fast and suddenly that I might of accidently took out a pack of adolescent preteens.

Okay no, “might” I DID TAKE OUT A PACK OF ADOLESCENT PRE-TEENS.

They fell like a bunch a bowling pins 😭

STRIKE.

It would of been funnier to me in the moment too….

Except you see, now I'm on the ground…and still have the goddamn hoodie stuck over my head.

A voice above me interrupted the pity party I was having on the floor.

“Do you need help, miss?”

Yes. Yes I did.

This angel of a human that I DID NOT know, crouched down to me and stuck his hand into my hoodie hole, ROTATED the hoop in my nose until he could unhook the 2 asshole objects apart.

There is was FREEDOM.

I pulled that hoodie so quickly off my head, smiling like a dumb idiot until I made eye contact with the guy that saved me.

HELLO, A STRAIGHT TEN. Bro was rocking a short little mullet and wearing a Megadeth t-shirt, had the face of a fucking angel.

So naturally, I gawked a little bit. (leave me alone. I'm disoriented😭)

This man IS SMIRKING at me, asking if I'm alright.

NO SIR, IM NOT ALRIGHT. A HOT PERSON JUST WATCHED ME BOWL A STRIKE WITH A HOODIE OVER MY HEAD.

The whole time I'm still on the floor and he's casually crouched over me. He's talking to me, saying actual words but all I could think about is how this dude just had his finger up my nose.

Hot guy helped me up.

And I got a good look at my surroundings to notice…those preteens were not happy 🤭.

Now, you'd think I ran away out of embarrassment and vowed to never come back to the cinema….

I DID NOT. I said my sorrys and oogled the metal angel a little more before marching my ass into that theater and watching the dang movie I came to see.

Yes I liked the movie.

And yes I changed that hoop back into a stud immediately 🥲

Do y'all have any embarrassing stories?

[berkmansimagines]

Would've, Could've, Should've

A/N: Ok so a very long time ago I wrote a fic called tolerate it and I never really intended to do a follow up to it. But I recently got this idea and at almost 2.4k words later here it is! You can read this fic without reading tolerate it, exposition is provided. And I'm sorry this fic is so long! I let my imagination run away with me....

Summary: Barry seeks revenge.

Pairing: Barry Berkman x hitman!wife reader

Barry has been quietly seething for the past few days. It all started when Barry refused to do a job for a powerful cartel leader named Del. In response, Del sent two of his goons to beat you up. He wanted to hit Barry where it hurts. And it worked.

Barry’s heart nearly stopped when he found you after you got jumped. You were bloodied, bruised and laying barely conscious in the bathtub. You were beaten so severely, you couldn’t even walk. Barry had to carry you to bed.

You’ve been kinda skittish and on guard since the attack. You’re still badly bruised and in pain. Barry is really worried about you. You’re his fearless, badass wife. He hates seeing you hurt and scared like this.

Barry desperately wants to get revenge on the guys who hurt you. The only reason he hasn’t looked into who did this is because you didn’t see their faces, they attacked you from behind. You couldn’t describe the men to Barry. Even if you had, you begged him not to go after them. You didn’t want Barry to get caught up in cartel shit. It’s way too dangerous. 

But Barry can’t let this go. Del’s goons hurt you badly. They could’ve killed you. Your husband’s fucking pissed and his anger is only growing.

Barry just returned home from acting class. He did a scene with Sally and Natalie where he played an angry character. Mr. Cousineau told Barry to think about something that gets him mad. His mind immediately went to you getting jumped by some faceless goons. Barry was so pissed off, he blacked out. He doesn’t even remember performing the scene. Afterwards Mr. Cousineau said that he did a good job.

A tense Barry walks in to find you sleeping on the couch. You fell asleep watching some movie on Netflix, which is still playing faintly in the background. Your husband takes a deep breath and his body relaxes when he sees you. 

Barry doesn’t want to wake you up from your nap. You look so cozy and you need the rest. Barry knows that you haven’t been sleeping well since the attack. He hasn’t either… 

Barry grabs the remote and shuts the TV off. Then, from the corner of his eye, he notices you shivering in your sleep. Barry takes the throw blanket on the couch and covers you with it.

You suddenly flinch and wake up with a jolt.

“NO! Get off of me!” you cry out.

Barry jumps back. He wasn’t expecting you to freak out like that. 

You stay on the couch, anxiously running your fingers through your hair and trying to catch your breath. Barry sits down beside you and gently cups your face in his hands, trying to calm you down. 

"Hey! Hey relax! It’s me. You're okay! It's just me," Barry says softly. 

You’re in shock for a moment until you look into Barry's eyes. 

"I'm sorry. I thought.... I…. I don't know what I was thinking..." you stutter breathlessly. 

Barry pulls you into a hug. You bury your head on his shoulder and hug him back tightly. While holding you, Barry’s face just drops. He’s trying his best to be there for you but he feels himself getting angrier at the people who did this to you. 

After a moment, you pull away from the hug and slowly rise to your feet.

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” you tell Barry. You need to clear your head.

You’re about to start walking towards the balcony when-

RING, RING, RING

You look down at your phone resting on the coffee table. It’s your handler, Diane. You have several missed calls from her. She gets annoyed when you don’t pick up.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself.

You grab your phone and answer the call.

“Hey Diane! Sorry I missed your calls. I, uh -” you begin before getting cut off.

“You can tell me in person. I just arrived at your building. I’m walking over to your place now,” your handler informs you.

Your heart skips a beat. This can’t be happening. You never told Diane that you got beat up. You knew that she would get upset and you didn’t want her to see you like this…

“What?” you gasp.

“You’ve been MIA for days now. I know something’s up with you. I’m checking in. Okay, I’m outside. Let me in.”

Diane abruptly ends the call.

“Fuck!” you curse to yourself, tossing your phone down on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Barry asks.

“Diane’s here,” you shrug.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

Barry’s body tenses up once again. Your handler doesn’t like Barry. He’s bracing himself for a confrontation. You slowly limp past Barry, making your way toward the door. Barry follows closely behind.

“You should take it easy,” he tries.

You turn back to your husband and shake your head. You look so serious right now. Barry stops himself. You answer the door. Diane is in complete shock when she sees you. You’re badly bruised and look like hell.

“Y/N, what the fuck happened to you? Who did this?” Diane asks you as she lets herself in.

“It’s, uh, it’s a long story,” you shyly reply.

Diane puts her hands on her hips, rocking that power pose she does so well.

“I’ve got nothing but time. Talk to me,” Diane insists.

You reluctantly tell Diane everything. Diane is someone who always has something to say, but she’s eerily quiet as you talk about what happened. She doesn’t speak up until you finish your story.

“Those guys who jumped you… did you see their faces?” Diane questions you.

“No,” you quickly shake your head.

Diane’s eyes narrow in on you, looking you up and down. 

“You’re lying,” she calls you out.

You clench your jaw and give Diane a cold, threatening look. Don’t even fucking go there. 

Barry stands in the background, silently watching this conversation between you and Diane play out. He scrunches his forehead at your reaction to Diane. You told Barry that you didn’t see your attackers faces. Did she lie to me? 

Diane snickers. She changes the conversation and shifts her focus to Barry.

“So all of this happened because you didn’t do a job for the cartel?”

Diane takes a step towards Barry and he steps back. He’s already pissed off. If Diane sets him off he might explode his anger out on her. He’s trying his best not to snap.

“Diane, please don’t…” you attempt to mediate the situation.

“Don’t what? I’m just stating facts here. You got beaten to a pulp because of Barry. He caused all of this,” Diane says.

You shake your head. 

“Don’t do this,” you warn Diane.

Diane keeps approaching Barry.

“How could you let this happen, Barry? You can’t just say ‘no’ to a man like Del. You should’ve protected Y/N and made sure nothing was going to happen,” she yells at Barry while jabbing his chest with her fingers.

Barry’s eyes widen. He takes another step back.

“Stop it!” Barry pushes her hand away.

Diane gets right in Barry’s face.

“This is all your fault and I blame you!”

You step in between Barry and Diane, aggressively shoving your handler away from Barry.

“Hey, don’t talk to him like that! It wasn’t his fault,” you defend your husband.

“Of course it’s his fault! The only reason Del’s goons jumped you is because of Barry,” Diane scoffs.

While you and Diane argue, Barry quietly backs away from you two. He goes to the bedroom and grabs a handgun from underneath the mattress. He holds the gun up, checking if it’s loaded, as he rushes past you and Diane. You’re both so locked in the argument, you don’t even notice Barry storming out with his gun.

Barry drives off angry. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, he has no plan. He’s just pissed off and out for blood. Diane struck a nerve.

BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ

Barry feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees that Noho Hank is calling. Barry raises his eyebrow. What the fuck does Noho Hank want?

Barry would normally ignore Noho Hank’s phone call but something in his gut is telling him not to. He puts in his earbud and answers the call.

“Hello?”

“Oh Barry! Thank sweet baby Jesus you picked up! I need you to do a job for me R-E-S-P-E-C-T. It has to be done today,” Noho Hank pleads.

Barry shrugs. Noho Hank probably meant to say ASAP but Barry doesn’t correct him.

“What job?”

“Some troll from a Mexican cartel is trying to break up my partnership with Cristobal. Cristobal thinks this guy is so suave, but he’s not even that good looking!” Noho Hank complains.

Barry’s face perks up when he hears Hank mention the cartel.

“What’s his name?” Barry asks.

“My partner’s name is Cristobal. C’mon Barry! You know this,” Noho Hank answers.

“No, not Cristobal! What’s the name of the target?” Barry asks impatiently.

“Oh his name is Del. He’s a leader in like the second largest drug cartel in Mexico,” Noho Hank explains.

Noho Hank continues going on about Cristobal and Del, but Barry isn’t listening. His mind is racing. From everything Hank said, the target sounds like the same guy who ordered the attack on you.

“I don’t even know what Cristobal sees in-” 

“I’ll do the hit,” Barry interrupts Noho Hank.

Barry hears Noho Hank let out a sigh of relief.

“And that’s why you’re best assassin in all of America.”

Barry rolls his eyes. That’s far from the truth…

“Where’s Del? I can do this right now.”

“He’s flying to LA. He’ll be landing on a private airstrip in a few hours. You know the place,” Noho Hank tells Barry.

Barry nods. It must be the same private airfield where he was supposed to take out Cristobal. He can sniper Del from a distance as soon as he gets off the plane. 

“Yeah, I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Barry ends the call with Hank.

Fuck! Barry realizes that he only has his handgun on him. This job is going to require a lot more than that. He needs to go home and get his sniper rifle. Barry turns the car around and heads back to your place.

BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ

Barry’s phone starts vibrating once again. He looks down to see who’s calling. It’s you. He immediately answers.

“Y/N?!”

“Barry! Where are you? Are you okay?” you ask. You sound worried.

“I’m fine. I’m just driving around. I needed to get out of there…” Barry says.

“I’m so sorry! Diane shouldn’t have said those nasty things,” you apologize.

Barry takes a deep breath, staying quiet for a beat.

“But she was right. It was my fault,” he sighs.

“No, no, no. Babe, I don’t blame you for what happened,” you reply.

Barry shrugs. 

“I kicked Diane out. She’s gone now. Please come home,” you try.

“I’m already on my way,” he tells you, and then, “Did you really see those guys’ faces? Was Diane right about that too?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to figure out the right words to say. You told your husband that you didn’t see their faces because you didn’t want him to go after them. You were trying to protect Barry.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you… I just… I don’t want them to hurt you like they hurt me…” you quietly admit.

Barry’s heart sinks.

“I’ll be alright. But, uh, I need to tell you something. Don’t freak out! Noho Hank called and he hired me to kill Del…” 

You gulp.

“Are you sure it’s the same-” 

“It’s him,” Barry assures you.

“Okay,” you sigh, “And Noho Hank? He’s one of the Chechens, right?”

“Well yeah, but this job isn’t for them. It’s for Hank. Del is trying to interfere in his partnership with Cristobal,” Barry explains.

You shrug. You don’t know any of these people and you don’t want to. You only care about Barry. You feel uneasy about this job but you’re not going to fight your husband about it.

“I’m coming with you.”

Barry’s jaw drops.

“Really?!”

“Yeah. We should do this together,” you answer.

You wanted so badly to just move on from everything that happened but you haven’t been able to. Then you had that fight with Diane. She got you riled up. Now you’re starting to believe that you can’t move on from this without getting closure. You want revenge.

“Okay. I’ll be back home in a few minutes,” Barry tells you.

“I’ll get the rifle ready,” you reply.

Barry picks you up and you drive to the private airfield together. When you arrive, Barry takes you on top of a hill right next to the airstrip. It’s a great hiding spot. Barry will be able to get the perfect shot.

The two of you wait for a couple of hours before you hear a plane flying overhead. Barry gets himself in position with his rifle as the plane lands.

You’re watching with a pair of binoculars. You didn’t bring your own gun because your arm and shoulder are still pretty fucked up from your attack. You’re not one hundred percent sure you could make the shot.

Two henchmen get off the plane first. You let out a small audible gasp, recognizing them almost immediately. Barry is focusing on his scope but hears your reaction when the first two men step out. He puts the pieces together.

“Are those the guys that jumped you?” he asks in a low, serious voice.

“Yeah,” you quietly answer, “The guy on the left lashed me with that belt he’s-”

Barry pulls the trigger before you even have a chance to finish the sentence. He shoots Del, who just stepped off the plane, first. Then he shoots the two goons. He shoots one of them in the head, killing him instantly. He shoots the man that you called out in the kneecap. He falls to the ground screaming in pain. Barry wanted this guy to suffer. After a beat, he shoots the goon in the head.

You can’t help but let out a small smile. You turn to your husband, giving him an appreciative nod. Barry looks at you and his face softens.

“Let’s go.”

[little-corritrice]

Lando Norris ~ I'm Not The Only One

{Long Story}

Walking down the paddock, I smiled at the mechanics and drivers passing by, Lando by my side on his phone. "You're quite distracted recently, Lan." I chuckled, jokingly taking his phone. However, he freaked out, lunging at me for it. "y/n! Give me my phone back!" He yelled, snatching his phone from my hand. Bystanders around us all looked at us, my cheeks turning red from embarrassment at his sudden and loud yells. I turned my head to him as he huffed out before he sighed out annoyed as he continued walking without me. I turned my head down as I walked behind me, my mind racing with anxiety as everyone stared at us walking away from the scene.

~ ~ ~

In the garage, I was with Jon as Lando was getting suited up. I stood to the side, Jon trying to bring me up, but I shook my head. The team started pushing the car out and soon everyone was on grid. I stood next to the wall, Lando laughing and giggling at his phone. Jon gave me a sympathetic look as he tried talking to Lando with me, but Lando just ignored my presence. So, I decided I was going to go say hi to Max. I walked over, tapping his shoulder as he was facing away from me. He turned around, smiling brightly as he pulled me into a hug. "y/n, hey! How are you doing?" He asked, and I shrugged, patting his back as we pulled away.

I smiled up at him, shaking my head. "Well, Lando has been glued to his phone all day and completely embarrassed me this morning, so dandy." I chuckled, and he gave me a sympathetic look, patting my shoulder. "How about you? How has it been going for you?" I asked, and he smiled, telling me all about how the car was doing great, then diverting to how he and Kelly were going good, and how he was very happy right now. "I'm glad you found your happiness, Max. It makes me really happy to know that." I smiled, but he didn't smile back. In fact, he wasn't even looking at me. I frowned as I followed his eye-sight, however, I really wished I didn't.

I stared blankly at the scene in front of me; Lando was kissing another girl and giggling and laughing with her. I felt my heart physically give out as I grabbed my chest in pain, looking down at the ground. "y/n-" Max started, but I looked back up, my teary eyes looking at his. "Have a great race, Max. bring her home safe, mmk?" I said shakily, patting his hand as I turned around. I walked up to Lando, him being shocked as he probably thought I left the track. The girl also looked up at me shocked, fleeing away from Lando's hold and all but running away. "12 years, Lando. 12 years of my life I gave to you." I whispered, looking at the ground as I could feel the watchful eyes of his mechanics and everyone near by.

He looked at me panicked, shaking his head as he tried grabbing my hand. "No, no. It's not what it looks like, y/n. I swear, I can explain." He said, but I shook my head, letting out a sob as I backed away. "There is no need to explain. I get it quite clearly. Thanks for everything, Lando Norris." I cried, slipping the promise ring off my finger and gently placing it in his. "I wish you the best in life." I said before I walked away, my head and heart hurting. I sped-walked down the pits, going into the McLaren garage and collecting my stuff. I quickly packed it all up, walking out and to the main gates. I was so close to them when I was suddenly grabbed by the wrist.

I turned around, yanking my wrist away from the stranger. However, it was the girl that was on Lando earlier. "y/n? I am so sorry, but it just suddenly happened. We met and started talking and it was like we just...clicked. I didn't mean to ruin your relationship." She said, but I just nodded. "He likes to game when he doesn't have anything to do, but he also likes it when you're there with him in the room. He doesn't like to eat vegetables unless they're tiny or mixed with something that'll drown out the taste." I started saying, and she just stood there. "He gets very clingy when he's sick, so make sure to always stay by his side during that time. He gets insecure easily, so beware of things that'll cause him to spiral." I said, and she just stepped forward.

I stepped back, holding my hand up. "Just promise me one thing? Please take care of him. He may be a stubborn baby sometimes, but just make sure he does what's best for him. That's all I ask." I smiled sadly at her, and she just stood there, shock written all over her face. I looked behind her, Lando standing not too far away(↑), looking sadly at me. I took in a deep breath, turning and walking away from the two, heading for the hotel that was in walking distance. It wasn't even 10 minutes before my phone was blowing up, calls and texts of numerous people coming in. I ignored them all, getting into the hotel room and packing everything of mine.

~ A Couple Years Later ~

~ Lando's P.O.V ~ I sat on my bed, holding the two photos in my hand. One was of baby me and Max in our karting days, the other of young me(↓).

I smiled fondly at the memories of being at the track with Max & y/n, y/n running around with us crazy boys. I looked up as I heard my door open. "Hey, you doing okay in here?" Max asked, peeking his head in through the door. "Oh, where did you get those?" He asked, coming to sit next to me. "Just was going through some old boxes of hers. She still kept these." I said sadly, looking up at Max. "Mate, maybe you should go see her." Max said, but I looked down again. "I don't deserve to see her. What I did to her, it's my fault she's gone." I said, shaking my head. "She still would've wanted you to see her. This is y/n we're talking about, mate. That girl loved you with everything she had and more." Max said, patting my shoulder. "Go see her, mate." He said one last time, getting up and walking out.

I sighed as I put her things away, grabbing my keys as I drove to her. It wasn't a very long drive, only about 5 minutes. I parked the car, staring at the big park in front of me. I was about to change my mind when I heard a soft voice call my name. "Lando?" They called, making me freeze in place. I slowly turned around, seeing y/n standing there in her pretty sundress. "y/n..." I trailed off, baffled to have actually ran into her. "How have you been?" She asked, coming closer to me. I was still a shocked to see her after all these years. Just as I was about to answer, an energetic boy came running up to us. "Mommy, look! Daddy found me a pretty rock!" He exclaimed out, jumping onto y/n.

I stared at the kid in her arms, her innocent smile looking at me. "Mommy?" I questioned and she nodded, chuckling softly. "Lando, this is Jack, my son. Jack, this is Lando, an...old friend of mommy's." She smiled at the kid, and he nodded, sticking his hand out towards me. I gently grabbed it, shaking it slightly. "Nice to meet you, sir." He said politely, and I smiled. "You as well." I said, and he giggled. His attention wasn't on us for that long, however, as he suddenly started calling out for someone else. "Daddy! This is mommy's old friend, Lando." He yelled, and y/n chuckled. "Oh, really? It's nice to meet you. I'm Chris, y/n's fiancé." He introduced, shaking my hand.

I looked at her when he said fiancé, and she slightly nodded. "Hon, can you take Jack to the car? I'll meet up with you guys in a bit." y/n asked, kissing her fiancé's cheek as he nodded, walking away with the kid. "So, that was great..." y/n chuckled awkwardly, playing with her hands. "So, you're getting married?" I asked, and she hummed. "Yes. We got engaged last year, and the wedding will be in a couple months hopefully." She said, and looked up at me. I was brought back to the day at the track, and I sighed heavily. "y/n, I am so sorry for what I did to you back then. You never deserved that. I am a horrible person for inflicting that kind of pain on you." I apologized sincerely.

She just smiled, shaking her head as she grabbed my hand. "Lando, I forgave you a long time ago. It's in the past, and we both need to move on from this. I am okay, and moved past this. It's time for you to let go of it to, and move on." She said softly, squeezing my hand. "I am willing to start over, if you are too." She said, and I looked up at her, nodding softly. "I don't deserve that, but I would like that very much." I said, and she smiled, taking her hand away. "Great. Hi, my name is y/n l/n, and it's a pleasure to meet you." She said, sticking her hand out. "I'm Lando Norris, and the pleasure is all mine." I said back, shaking her hand as we smiled at each other.

We were about to keep talking, but a loud yell brought us out of our conversation. "Mommy, come on! I'm hungry!" Jack yelled out from the car, Chris apologizing to us as he tried getting Jack back into the car. "Well, it looks like duty calls." I joked, and she laughed, turning back to me again. "So it does." She said, sighing softly. "I'm really glad I ran into you today." She said, coming forward and kissing my cheek softly. "I'll see you around, Lando Norris." She said, waving bye to me as she got in the car, it soon driving off into the distance. I stared at the vehicle until it disappeared around the corner, sighing softly.

Forgiveness Is The Best Form Of Love. It Takes A Strong Person To Say Sorry And Mean It, And An Even Stronger Person To Forgive Them

[firetrucks-fastcars]

Tagged by @chaotictarlos

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

My Bloody Valentine

“Well that was eventful,” Carlos said as he slid the loft door shut behind them, clicking the lock into place. 

“That’s an understatement babe,” TK chuckled, kicking off his shoes and moving into the living room. “I just wish we could have one normal date. I’m sorry our plans got ruined.”

“It’s not your fault baby. Why don’t you go grab a shower? I’m gonna set the alarm and then I’ll join you.”

TK looked down at himself and cringed. He’d been able to clean most of the blood off his hands and arms before leaving the restaurant, but his shirt looked like a lost cause. 

“At least it’s not my blood this time?”

Closed For Maintenance

TK fidgeted with a loose string in the bottom of his hoodie, wrapping it around his finger until his nail went white, before unraveling it and doing it again. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him. He knew better than to assume Carlos asking him to talk about something was bad news. Carlos wouldn’t spring something on him like that. Even so, when Carlos had uttered those three words over dinner, the food in TK’s mouth had turned to ash. He nodded wordlessly at his fiance and resigned himself to picking at his suddenly tasteless dinner until Carlos was finished. Now he was sitting across from him on the couch, torturing himself until Carlos spoke.

By My Side

“Carlos Reyes, I swear if you don’t sit your ass on that couch I’m calling your mother.”

“I’m not an invalid TK,” Carlos huffed. “I can get my own water.”

“I know you’re not honey,” TK soothed, setting the glass down on the coffee table and running a hand through Carlos’ dirty hair. He hadn’t had a chance to shower since the accident, having to settle for the quick sponge baths and dry shampoo given in the hospital. “But,” he continued. “You have a broken leg and two fractured ribs. You’re looking at a twelve-week recovery minimum. And that’s just for the leg. I know you hate it, but you’ve got to take it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” he grumbled. “I’ve barely moved off the damn couch for two days.”

Unconventional Methods

TK didn’t know why he was awake. Typically there were only a few reasons he’d be awake at 3 am. He hadn’t had a nightmare, they’d been few and far between in recent months. There were ringing alarm bells or lingering smell of smoke in the air (thank God) and no early morning proposals to be made (the matching gold rings in the dish on their bathroom counter took care of that). He didn’t have to pee and no part of his body hurt, so there was no reason he shouldn’t have been dead to the world. 

I'll Be Cleaning Up Bottles With You (On New Year's Day)

Carlos wasn’t used to sleeping in. Even on days when he wasn’t working, he was up by sunrise to go for his run, stopping on the way home to pick up muffins and coffee for himself and TK to enjoy before his husband ran off to work or before they started on whatever responsibilities they had for the day. Today, however, when he rolled over to check his phone, he was appalled to find that it was almost noon.

There was a straightforward explanation for his laziness, New Year’s Eve. He and TK had invited over their friends to the loft for a party the night before. They’d kept it relaxed and fun, nothing vastly different from the other 126 hangs that happened at their house, aside from the presence of Judd, Grace, and Charlie. However, they’d stayed up well past midnight, and frankly, Carlos was too old for that shit.

The Holiday Season

“Buck, Buck! Dad! Wake up! It’s Christmas Eve, you gotta get up!”

“Wha-?”

Buck was barely awake enough to brace himself as Christopher clambered onto the bed, flopping down right in the center of Buck’s chest. Two small hands held his cheeks, and he leaned in to press their noses together as he spoke.

“Buck, get up.”

Buck slowly opened his eyes, going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on Chris. Eddie groaned next to him, rolling over and blinking blearily at them.

“Good, you’re up,” Christopher said, sitting up but not moving from his position on Buck’s chest. He said it as if he’d already forgotten that it was his commotion that had ripped them from their peaceful sleep.

The Set Up

He didn’t hate Austin nearly as much as he thought he would. It wasn’t even close to what he was used to. Everything was smaller than in New York, people were much closer, not in a physical way, but in an emotional one. They knew everything about each other and news traveled fast. Everyone in Austin proper had known about him and his dad before their plane even touched down. 

They’d known about his injury before they’d even met him. They’d expected the limp and the sour attitude that came along with a career-ending leg break. His dad’s new team had looked at them with pity for a few days, feeling somewhat guilty every time he went to the firehouse to visit or bring his dad lunch. That was until he started hanging around and kicking their asses at foosball and video games, which earned him a little respect, the amount of which grew every day, until they were friends. 

Christmas Tree Farm

Winter in Austin was a different kind of cold. TK was used to snow and ice, all of the things that came with winter in the North. This was a different kind of cold. This cold seeped through his layers of a hoodie and coat, chilling him to the bone. He pressed a little closer to Carlos, wrapping his chilled hands around his bicep as they walked through the Christmas market set up downtown. 

“Are you cold babe?” Carlos asked.

“A little,” TK admitted, breath clouding around his face as he spoke. 

“I’m getting you a better jacket for Christmas. I don’t like you being cold.”

“I don’t like it either.”

“We can go home if you want. We can do this on a day that’s less cold.”

“Nope. We promised Noah we’d have a Christmas tree when we got home and I will not disappoint him.”

Hot Chocolate Weather

“I’m not liking the way this looks,” Carlos grumbled, stepping away from the window where he’d been peeking out at the storm. The plastic blinds crackled when he released them and TK pushed down the urge to fuss about him bending the pieces. It was a pet peeve he'd never been able to get over after years of being scolded for peering through the blinds of rented apartments in the same fashion. As if sensing his frustration, Carlos gently adjusted the bent piece before drawing the curtains over the window. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Do you think it’s gonna get bad? Judd was saying something about tornado weather.”

TK really hated storms. They weren’t an anomaly in New York but something about the humidity of the South and the potential for tornadoes made it worse. Plus past experiences with storms, rain, ice, dust, or otherwise, he was understandably wary of weather that wasn’t sunny and blue skies. 

Paper Rings (Buddie's Version)

It started as a joke really. Buck wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the notion, maybe from that stupidly catchy Taylor Swift song May had been so insistent on playing all summer. Something about it had wormed its way into a small corner of his brain and he couldn’t shake the words.

I’d marry you with paper rings

He’d thought about marrying Eddie. Of course, he had. A small part of him felt he and Eddie had been married for years, had been married since they’d stopped posturing over a man with a grenade in his leg and became some semblance of friends. Since Eddie had looked him in the eyes, stupidly large hand on his shoulder and ridiculously soulful brown eyes filled with so much sincerity and concern, and said “There is no one in this world I trust with my son more than you.” He’d thought about it more recently, as they crossed the threshold over one year of dating. He thought about the pages of bookmarked rings he was hiding from Eddie on his laptop. He was months away from clicking the button to buy one, they had time, but he wanted it more than anything. 

Tagging: anyone who wants to :)

[ase-trollplays]

>> You and Florah follow him to the door on the right and temporarily go blind from the lighting after essentially being in the dark. Once you eyes adapt, you nod and take a seat as instructed. Florah shoots you an "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?" stare and gestures toward the straps. That's... a lot more worrying. What kind of willing patient wouldn't be still? If he just... kidnapping and experimenting on people??

>> Florah stands next to you on the side of the chair without the lamp and keeps a sharp eye on Deviex, her own trigger finger twitching once in preparation. Just in case.

>> You cringe when Deviex mentions the way doctors used to measure psionic potential and thank the stars that things have advanced beyond the need for that. Once handed the form, you start looking it over. The smiley face next to the line about mutations unsettles you, and you give a brief shudder as you get a good idea of the type of patients that "won't sit still."

>> As he asks questions, you nod to Florah to get ready to translate.

👏 My psionics activated for the first time when I was three and a half sweeps old. I think it's my actual voice, but only if I'm heard directly. I don't hurt anyone when I talk on the phone or discorpse chat. 👏

👏 I stopped talking when I was four sweeps after I almost killed my lusus with my voice. 👏

👏 The super tinnitus attacks have only been happening for a sweep. When it first started, it was just a few seconds of ringing with no pain. Then it got worse and worse until now the attacks cause migraines, make my ears and nose bleed, and sometimes I pass out. The ringing is so loud I can't hear anything when it happens. 👏

👏 The most recent attack was last night. Most of the time, loud noise or stress triggers an attack, but sometimes they happen at random like last night. 👏

>> Florah translates for you, occasionally having to pause to shush Feriya's low growling at the purpleblood. She narrows her eyes at him and glares suddenly, having noticed his finger twitching just like her own did.

>> Not that you noticed either of their itchy trigger fingers. You just chalk it up to Florah not liking him then set to work filling out the form you were given.

=> You totter after them, also tripping over small, scattered objects in the hallway. It's comforting in these unusual times.

=> You stare between the three doors for a moment, presumably in thought.

"<--- Vo-ce causes... pa-n, result of psych-c potent-al.... --->"

"<--- Yes, yes, needs further rev-ew. Exam-nat-on. --->"

=> You amble towards the door on the right, which slides open quietly. Inside is a room tiled in white with mint-green wallpaper, a purple line matching your hue running horizontally across it.

=> This room is actually decently lit, so your eyes take a few seconds to adjust as you wince. The lights are recessed into the ceiling above and came on automatically as you entered. In the middle of the room is an examination chair - a reclining sort of chair that resembles what one might find at a dentist's office. There are obvious straps for binding someone in by the wrists and ankles on it.

=> Next to this chair is a large lamp, again similar to a dentist's office where the light itself could be moved around by pulling it. Next to the chair is a wheeled office chair that you fall into gratefully, shaking your head.

=> Along the walls are rows of filing cabinets with different labels on them, plus a computer on a desk near the door. A machine next to the computer holds several vials in a large bubble, all arranged in a circle. The vials are currently empty.

=> You roll over to the desk and pull out from beside it a similarly wheeled tray, on which sit several medical instruments... and a pen. You gesture to the chair in the middle of the room.

"<--- Have a seat. Don't bother w-th the straps, those are for people who WON'T s-t st-ll. --->"

=> Your voice momentarily fills with immense frustration at "won't", but immediately calms down after.

"<--- Now, f-rst - need more... -nformat-on. Normally the nurse would handle th-s, but - haven't... --->"

"<--- ...Anyway, let's get you a med-cal form. -'ll need to take a blood sample, should help w-th proper d-agnos-s... --->"

"<--- -n the old n-ghts they'd need to take a d-rect sample from bra-ns, you know. To measure ps-on-c potent-al. Now -t's all done w-th blood analys-s! --->"

=> You chuckle wheezily as you roll over to one of the filing cabinets. This one is labeled "Screening". You open it up and yank a form from it after rummaging around for a few seconds, before rolling back over to the examination chair while dragging the tray with you.

=> You offer him the pen and the form. The form itself is fairly standard, asking the patient's name, reason for visit, basic medical history, psychic abilities, allergies, fears, mutations (there's a slightly sinister looking smiley face stamped next to this line in purple ink), and then a large box for writing down any additional notes.

"<--- Your vo-ce hurts people, as you... "say." When d-d th-s beg-n to occur? --->"

"<--- -f you bel-eve -t's psych-c, does -t affect your actual vo-ce, or does -t merely alter the... the... percept-on others' have of your vo-ce? --->"

"<--- Does the pa-n grow worse over t-me? -s -t affected by how loud you try to speak? And are there any other symptoms that have... man-fested along w-th th-s? --->"

=> You pause, thoughts ticking.

"<--- ...R-ght, uh, answer those to your fr-end f-rst, then the, ah, form, yes. --->"

=> You glance back to his interpreter, trying to ignore the service animal. Your right hand's trigger finger twitches for a moment or two.

[maletf32]

I always have dilf fantasy and hope to have one, like a construct site foreman, a coach or a police sheriff. How about "I" feeling a bit troubled by a dilf's over caring, or I should flirting. After claiming "I" am straight and not interest in old men, the dilf shrugs and seems to have the solution to make both satisfied, which is hypnotizing and transforming "me" into his perfect mate sharing the same job and taste.

I could make this happen for sure. Recently joined that big local soccer team right? No no, not as a player. You’re just working finance for the team, making sure everything is in order. You work close with the head coach, and he’s normally helping you late at night tackle some of your work. 

One of those nights, you both manage to finish your work early.

“Nice work as always, wanna head out for dinner with me?” he grins at you, giving you a small squeeze on the shoulder.

Shit, was he coming on to you? Sure he was nice and all, but he wasn’t really your type.

“No, sorry, uh I can’t.” You stutter unconvincingly. 

“Oh, alright” he frowns, looking slightly dejected.

....

Later that week you get a message from him “Hey, mind swinging into the office? Have some files for you.”

You make your way over, walking through his door when suddenly you see him sitting there on the couch.

“Hey buddy, why don’t you take a seat.” He commands.

You feel almost not in control of your body, as you sit there in front of him, not being able to look away from that fat bulge of his.

“Took a little ‘Potion of Suggestibility”; anything I say is going to become the truth!” he explains “Not going to lie, was a little hurt when you rejected me. That’s in the past now though. Now let’s start.”

You eyes widen in panic, and before you can resist...

“You are calm”

Just like that a wave of peace washes over your whole body, you smile. Everything was fine.

“You are just as old as me. You have a thick beard, and a rough masculine face.”

You feel a beard grow out on you face, impressive and a dark ebony color. You skin wrinkles, signs of age appearing all over you. Your features sharpen as well, leaving you with a completely new face. 

“You have big arms, perfect for holding me tight”

Your scrawny arms swell up, you reach up and try to feel your face with your bigger hands. A finger rests on your forehead, giving you a pensive look. He was changing you, but you were really powerless to do anything. You continued to stare at the coach, becoming more and more enraptured.

“You have a hairy chest that you love to show off at all times, especially to me.”

You smirk, unbuttoning your shirt and releasing some thick pecs covered in hair. He was right, everyone loved your big hairy pecs, and you were more then happy to have them on display.

“You are my husband, we’ve been happily married for about twenty years”

You feel some gold on your fingers, as a wedding ring materializes around it. Memories mix in your head like a slurry; you remember meeting him when you found this job, but you also remember meeting him in college. You had quickly became lovers, and had been inseparable since. Surely that one sounds more realistic?

“You have always been this way.”

Just like that, any sense of doubt who you were was removed. You were Angelo’s sexy husband, helping him coach the soccer team from the side. 

“One last thing before the potion wears off...” Angelo says, slowly pulling down his underwear to reveal a fat cock. “Suck me off”

You salivate at the thought, your own cock straining against your briefs. You crawl over, and eagerly take his dick down your throat. You expertly suck him off, and it’s not long before you have a thick load in your mouth.

“Mm, love you babe!” Angelo says, cuddling with you.

“Love you too hun’!” you say in a deep voice. You loved your life, and loved your husband, and wouldn’t have it any other way.

[svu-ncis-criminalminds]

I'm Fine

Hotch x Female!Reader

The reader gets sick during a case and Hotch is worried about her. When she winds up getting Hotch sick as well, he figures being sick together is far better than being sick alone.

Words : 3,766

“Bless you,” suddenly a hand holding a tissue appeared in your field of view, and you accepted it while nodding a silent thank you before excusing yourself to the jet bathroom to blow your nose. You splashed a bit of cool water on your face and attempted to stifle your sniffling as you returned to your seat to continue the debrief.

“Sick?” Morgan asked, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow-raising while his eyes remained on the file he was holding.

“I’m fine,” The last thing you currently needed was anyone concerning himself over your heath - there was a case to be focusing on. Besides, you didn’t feel /that/ sick.

“You’ve been sneezing for nearly 48 hours.” Reid informed you, finger scanning the documents stacked in front of him, “Started dry coughing occasionally maybe 18 hours ago, you’ve been trying to suppress them, so when you do cough it sounds like it hurts.” You didn’t say anything, just shook your head, rolling your eyes and glancing away. Sometimes working with profilers suck. “If it’s the flu, you should feel worse within the next 24 hours.”

“Thanks a lot, doctor.”

“You’re welcome, actually, the cool thing about the flu is-”

“Reid, she was being sarcastic.” Hotch interrupted, “focus on the files.” He drew everyone’s attention back in, and the conversation left your current health status. Everything was perfect until you all were preparing to land. There was a tickle in the back of your throat that was becoming harder to ignore, and there was a pressure building in your chest. The seatbelt light went on and everyone took their usual spots, your eyes remained focused ahead despite feeling another pair on you.

“Breathe.” Your head spun to the side, and your eyes met the eyes you had felt before.

“What?”

“You’re turning red.” The corner of Hotch’s mouth turned up just slightly, and you scowled.

“No, I’m-” You interrupted yourself with a cough, arm going over your mouth as you tried your best to turn away from everyone. You launched yourself into a minor coughing fit, half doubled over when you felt a few sturdy pats on your back. When it passed, you sat back up, eyes slightly watery. “I’m fine,” You finished your previous thought with an unconvincing half-smile. Morgan responded from across from you with a small roll of his eyes, and a shake of his head.

You were last in line to deboard the plane when the man in front of you stopped walking and turned around. You glanced up at Hotch.

“Yes?”

“You could remain on the jet if you’re unwell, it will return you to DC.” You huffed out a laugh and shook your head.

“No. I said I’m fine, I’d like it if everyone would take my word for it.” He regarded you for a moment before nodding minutely.

“Alright, you will run point from the station.”

“No, Hotch, I’m-”

“Fine, I know.” He nodded, turning and beginning to climb down the stairs of the jet, “Reid and Y/L/N will go to the office, start working on a geographical profile. Call Garcia and begin combing through possible links between our victims. Prentiss and Rossi go to the first crime scene, Morgan and I will go to the most recent one. Any leads, call it in. We will regroup later.”

----

Hotch had ordered you back to the motel you were staying at early the previous night, despite your protests. He claimed that even though you were fine, more sleep couldn’t hurt, before ordering a local officer to take you there. The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that your ears were ringing and your head was pounding. Then you noticed the knocking, which must have been what woke you up.

“Y/N?” despite being muffled, and despite the fact that your head was spinning, you recognized the voice of your unit leader. You peeled your body from sweaty sheets and rubbed your face with your hands as you went over to the door. You double-checked who it was through the peephole before opening it.

“Hey, Hotch,” You tried to stand tall and blink some sleep from your eyes, but your actions wouldn’t have even fooled a non-profiler.

“Did I wake you?” Once again, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly into a half-smile, and you deflated slightly.

“No,” That elicited a small, rare chuckle in reply. Aaron nodded, making a small humming sound.

“Of course not, Prentiss has only called you a handful of times, and I’m sure your outfit choice is merely you attempting a new style? And the obvious fever you have? Where does that play in.” You glanced down at your pajamas, crossing your arms over yourself and giving Hotch a half-hearted glare.

“Don’t profile me,” That rewarded you with a proper laugh. If you weren’t sick, you would have enjoyed it.

“There is nothing to profile, Y/N, go back to bed.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he held a hand up, “I know, fine, you’re fine, go back to sleep. If you wake up and a miracle has occurred, and you feel tip-top, call me, and you can come to meet up with us.” You both knew that that meant, in uncertain terms, you were being ordered off the case. Maybe if you had more energy, you would have tried to argue.

“Okay,”

“Good.” Hotch nodded, tapping on your door frame, “I didn’t hear you unlock the deadbolt when I knocked. Lock it after I leave. Text if you need something.” You nodded your head, watching him step out.

“Yes, sir.” Once the door was shut, you locked both the door and the deadbolt before quickly shuffling back to bed and collapsing nearly immediately succumbing back into sleep.

-----

You spent the day alternating between taking naps and flipping through the three cable channels the TV had. At some point, a local patrol officer stopped by your room with food and medicine, and you had texted Hotch a small “Thank You”. Reid had texted a few updates to you throughout the day, and you did your best to offer some helpful insight, but you hated being so close and so far out of the loop.

It was late when there was a gentle knock on your door, and you slipped out from your covers to go to it. The peephole confirmed it was safe, so you unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

“Did I wake you?” Hotch asked softly, and you shook your head, stepping back to allow the man to step inside the room with you.

“No, not this time.” You assured and he nodded.

“Good, I was not sure if you would be up, but wanted to check on you. How are you feeling?” You shrugged, perching at the edge of your bed.

“Alright. Better than when I woke up, at least. Still fever-y. I slept most of the day.” Hotch smiled.

“Thank you for being honest.” He teased gently and you smiled back. Aaron gestured towards the small TV and chuckled slightly. “You don’t get enough of this, you have to watch it as well?” You glanced over to the screen as well, where some old rerun of Law and Order was playing, and you laughed.

“It was Judge Judy during daylight hours.” You reasoned with a small smirk and he groaned.

“Even worse.” You watched Hotch, there was an air of nervous energy suddenly permeating the room, that wasn’t there before. You watched as he gathered some of the trash you had accumulated on your bedside table, taking it over to the little trashcan beside the microwave.

“You don’t need to do that.” You stood up, suddenly self-conscious - watching your boss clean up after you.

“I know,” He offered you what he hoped was an assuring smile, “You’re sick, and stuck in a cheap hotel room, I’m helping.” You stood awkwardly for a moment, watching as he straightened the area up before turning to you. “Do you want me to call and ask them to send the jet back?” You relaxed back onto the mattress, rolling your eyes.

“/That/ doesn’t sound like it’s in the budget, I mean, have you felt these sheets?” He chuckled at your weaponized use of one of his usual lines and reached over, ruffling your blankets. His face screwed up for a second, and he pulled his hand back, taking a step away and turning before sneezing loudly into the crook of his elbow. He turned back to you, and you had the decency to at least look partly ashamed.

“Bless you.” The corner of your mouth twitched, and he fixed you with a steady gaze before chuckling.

“Dusty sheets.”

“Of course.” You did your best to keep from smiling, nodding seriously. Hotch rolled his eyes before going to the door.

“Try and get some more sleep. Lock the deadbolt behind me.” You groaned as you got up from the bed, going over to see the man out.

“I will. You too.” He nodded, and you watched his disappear before the door, double-locking it again. You smiled once you were back in bed, running your hands over the sheets. For the fifth or sixth time that day, you fell asleep, but for the first time, you were smiling.

----

You woke up late the next day, you only knew it was late when you checked your phone and saw the time along with one missed text from Hotch.

/I knocked a few times, and you didn’t respond. How do you feel today? Take the medicine that was dropped off yesterday, I will have someone drop off food again. Do you want Garcia to find a doctor in the area in your HMO?/ You rolled your eyes and groaned, rubbing your face. You were still feverish, and your entire body was exhausted. You typed out a quick reply to Hotch before deciding to go shower.

/I’m fine, I don’t need to see a doctor. I’ll take the medicine, but no one needs to bring me anything./ After your shower, your day was almost identical to the previous one. You napped and watched TV, and someone stopped by with more instant ramen and bodega bananas for you. The only true difference was, rather than a knock at your door that evening, you got a phone call around ten pm.

“Hey, Hotch,”

“Y/L/N, how are you feeling?”

“Alright. You sound stuffy. How’s the case?”

“I’m fine. Alright, I think we’re close. We’re going to stay here and nap on shifts. I didn’t want you to worry when I - when none of us returned.”

“Oh, now you’re fine, huh.”

“Perfectly fine,” you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“Oh well, in that case,” there was a short pause before Hotch spoke again.

“I will call you when it’s over,” he assured you, and you nodded to yourself.

“Aaron?” You interjected just before he hung up, “Be careful. Tell everyone to be careful.”

“Of course. Get some sleep.”

-----

Everyone came home safe to you the next afternoon, and after spending less than twenty minutes packing, everyone had their go bags and were on their way back to the airport. Hotch and you were sharing one SUV over to try and keep all of your coughing to yourself, which you thought was pointless because you were about to be in the jet together anyway. Hotch drove, and you looked out the window miserably, sniffling. You listened to him cough into his arm and couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself.

“Something's funny?” He asked, side-eyeing you.

“Sorry I got you sick.”

“No, you’re not,” you both smirked at that.

“You’ll feel worse tomorrow,” you promised, “but I feel like I’m on the mends, so it’ll pass soon.”

“Hopefully evil can take a few days off, and we can all get some rest.” Your smile grew glum, but you nodded regardless.

“Hopefully.” The flight wasn’t terrible, you slept through most of it, and woke up when you were landing back in DC.

“Good sleep?” Morgan teased as you began to stir, “your snoring kept everyone else awake.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Well, you sure do breath out of your mouth,” he continued to tease, tilting his head back and opening his mouth wide, everyone including you chuckled at the display.

“Is your car here?” Hotch asked from behind you as you got off the plane, and you shook your head.

“No,”

“Jack is staying with his Aunt, so he doesn’t catch the flu, I have plenty of cans of soup.” You stopped walking, the rest of your team continuing ahead of you. He took two more steps, so you were beside each other, and continued, “if you want, being sick alone can be a miserable experience.”

“You want me to come over?” You asked, trying to clarify the situation for all the thoughts currently whirling through your head.

“If you’d like. I have a guest room. I buy relatively nice sheets.” His mouth twitched, and you smiled the rest of the way for him.

“Sure.”

----

The ride home was quiet and comfortable in Aaron’s car, it almost lulled you back to sleep, but the situation was so abnormal that you couldn’t close your eyes. Your boss, who was a relatively private man, who while trusting you on his team mostly kept you at arm’s length socially, had invited you to his home.

“You’re awfully quiet, must still feel ill.” Hotch commented as he unlocked his door and ushered you inside, “don’t move.” you watched him activate the alarm system before walking deeper into the house, you following him.

“I guess I’m just surprised,” you admitted. Aaron went to the fridge, opening it and gazing at its contents.

“By what?”

“Just,” you shrugged, “I guess just being invited here.” Aaron walked away from the fridge, gesturing to the orange juice in his hand, which you nodded in agreement to.

“You didn’t have to feel obligated to come, just because I offered.” You watched him pour you each a glass and could hear Reid’s voice in your head explaining that vitamin C is one of the best cures for an ailment.

“I know,” you assured him, “I said surprised, I didn’t say it was bad.” He passed you a glass, nodding.

“Right, well, good. I didn’t mean to - imply pressure or anything. I understand as your superior the... possible implications, I should have-”

“Aaron,” you cut him off, rolling your eyes, “It’s fine, I know you, it’s fine, it hasn’t been taken the wrong way, I assure you.”

“Wrong way,” Hotch repeated before smiling slightly and nodding, “are you hungry?” you shook your head.

“I’m okay, but eat if you’re hungry.” he also shook his head as well, walking towards the hallway.

“I’m not, I’ll show you the guest room, so you can get changed, we can watch something on TV if you’d like, something besides daytime dramas and cop shows will do you some good.” You laughed, following with your go-bag.

“And what sort of TV would do me some good?”

“I’m sure we’ll find something - here you are, my room is there,” he pointed to a closed-door at the end of the hallway, “and that is the bathroom,” he pointed to another slightly ajar door.

“Thank you,”

“Of course,” Hotch went to his own room, disappearing, and you shut the door of the simple guest bedroom you assumed was mostly utilized by Jack’s aunt. You changed into your last clean pair of pajamas in your bag before removing the throw blanket from the guest room and going to set yourself up on the sofa. Hotch came out a few minutes later, and you found yourself unable to look away. He wore a simple cotton t-shirt and some sweatpants, and you felt crazy for thinking to yourself that it was the most handsome you had ever seen him. He was relaxed and comfortable. His nose was a little red from sneezing, but he looked more at peace than he did in a stuffy suit and tie, and you felt your chest ache slightly.

“Alright?” He asked, sinking into the end of the sofa you had left open, and you nodded, swallowing any comment you might’ve made.

“Yes.” He picked the remote up and flipped through a few channels.

“What do you want to watch, or are you like Jack, whatever I put on you’ll fall asleep regardless.” You sank deeper into the sofa, getting comfortable.

“Usually? I wouldn’t. Tonight?” You chuckled, “I make no promises.”

“I’m also sick, I don’t think I could carry you to bed like Jack.” You snorted at that.

“I’m sure I’ll be alright if left on the sofa for one evening.” You promised, and he settled on a random old movie replaying on lifetime or some similar channel. You watched most of it in comfortable silence. Occasionally, one of you would break it in order to comment on a plot hole or unrealistic character development. It was fun, and you could tell even Aaron was enjoying himself. The credits played and Hotch turned to you, smiling gently.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked, pulling yourself up into a slightly more seated position.

“Just this, I haven’t done this in a while,” frowning you sat up fully, facing the man.

“Done what?”

“Just something simple. Watched a movie - I watch movies with Jack, of course, but it’s different. Enjoying another adult’s company.” It was the most honest and vulnerable the man had ever been with you. You smiled softly and nodded in understanding. “It’s not often no one expects something from me.” He continued to explain, “At work the team expects me to be a leader, at home Jack expects me to be his father.”

“I understand,” you assured him.

“It’s not that those are bad things, I wouldn’t give up either for anything. But a break from that expectation is nice.” You watched his brows begin to furrow and his demeanor went from a new relaxed Hotchner you hadn’t seen before back into overthinking work mode.

“Can I give you a hug?” You asked suddenly, moving down the sofa. You wanted him to relax again, to be comfortable with you, to seek comfort from you.

“What?” You merely opened your arms to him, stopping halfway down the sofa. If he wanted it, there it was. He looked at your open arms for a moment before his eyes met yours. He shifted, sitting up and scooting towards you and allowing himself to lean into your arms. You wrapped him in a hug, and he returned the gesture, arms going securely around your mid-section. You rested your chin on his shoulder and closed your eyes, breathing in deeply. You sat like that for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. Eventually, Aaron squeezed you tight one more time before sitting back, but he didn’t fully remove you from his touch. You remained facing each other, legs touching, and one of his newly free hands moved to rest on your arm, squeezing gently.

“Thank you,”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Aaron.” He smiled gently and nodded, lifting his other hand to push a piece of your hair behind your ear, you subconsciously tilted your head into the touch, and he allowed his hand to rest there for a moment.

“My turn.”

“For what?” You practically whispered, you were unable to look away from the man’s face. Not that you wanted to at this moment.

“Can I give you a kiss?” You let out a small breath of air but didn’t move. Aaron’s eyes flicked from yours down to your lips and back again but made no move to either come closer or remove his hand from your cheek - the next move was yours alone. You blinked slowly once as your brain caught up to you before smirking slightly, your hand finding the front of his t-shirt, pulling him slightly closer.

“It’s not like I’m going to get you sick,” You joked, and he had just enough time for a small smile before you closed the gap and your lips were on his. The moment you consented, Aaron reacted, kissing you back gently. The hand on your cheek moved back and began to play with your hair gently. The hand you had used to pull him closer flattened out on his chest, while the other rested at the base of his neck. When you broke the kiss to breathe, he remained close to you - placing one more peck on the corner of your mouth before pulling back further.

“I think it’s my turn to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Doing that. I don’t think I would’ve ever had the guts to do it myself.” Aaron laughed, removing his hand from your cheek and placing it over the one still resting on your chest, entwining your fingers.

“You can run into buildings with criminals, but you don’t think you’re brave enough to make a move on me?” You rolled your eyes, wiggling your fingers under his.

“I didn’t see you rushing into anything,” he smirked back in agreement.

“You win.” He patted your hand before releasing it and standing, “now would it be completely pushing my luck to offer to share my bed with you tonight? Not like that, I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” He assured, placing a hand over his heart.

“I don’t think you’re capable of being anything less,” you gathered the blanket you had brought from the guest room and followed Aaron down the hall to his room. You climbed into your side of the bed and sighed happily. “Now these? These are nice sheets.” He laughed, settling in as well.

“Glad they meet your standards, Y/N,”

“Aaron?”

“Yes?” He turned his head towards you, remaining on his back, a perfectly appropriate distance between you.

“What the gentleman code for cuddling?” He smiled at you through the dark, reaching a hand out to gently nudge you.

“Depends, does the lady want to cuddle?”

“She does.”

“Well then, certainly cuddling her would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” you didn’t need to be told twice. You closed the distance quickly, folding yourself into Aaron’s side. His arm wrapped around you, and you laid your head on his chest, flinging an arm across his body.

“Comfortable?”

“Incredibly.” You promised, closing your eyes and letting out a long breath, “Goodnight.” You felt his lips drop a small kiss onto the top of your head, and the arm around you briefly tightened.

“Goodnight, sleep well Y/N.”

[okay-j-hannah]

All Of Time And Space

Doctor Who : Multishot

Eleventh Doctor x Reader x Twelfth Doctor

Word Count: 2974

Warnings: just the possibility of overdosing on cute

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: Welcome to what I couldn’t resist! I have just recently started watching the twelfth Doctor for the first time and love him more than I thought I would. After an accidental time jump you find yourself thrown into the future

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 6: The Lost Shoes

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act

Finale: All Of Time And Space {You Are Here}

“(Y/N)?”

She closed her eyes and grinned so wide she knew her cheeks would hurt soon. She slowly turned around to face the nervous voice calling her name.

There stood the Doctor, bowlegged and strapping in his tweed. He wore a new bowtie in her favorite color. And held in his hand was a small velvet box. A deep tardis blue box. A ring box.

She took a shuddering breath, tears immediately welling her eyes. She felt a strange surge of energy tingle up her legs and through her spine. Probably just the shock of excitement.

“Hello,” he whispered, full of anxiety. But her earsplitting grin was making him feel better.

She was grinning, yes – but there was something about the nerves coursing her limbs. It was like her very veins were vibrating with static. Her brow began to furrow as the Doctor took a step closer.

“(Y/N)…”

And somewhere around her navel tugged her forward. She fell, bracing herself with her hands. A zap like a bolt of lightning ran through her, locking her limbs into place. It was in a puff of smoke that she was able unfreeze herself.

She flexed her fingers, coughing at the slight smell of singed hair. She was on the ground, wincing; her head felt like lead.

“Oh, bloody hell,” she mumbled, trying to regain her feet, “Doctor? Have we crashed or something?”

But the answering flurry of lights was not the Doctor – and it was not in the artifact room. She peered around to see the console.

No… a console.

Her mouth popped opened. It was all very… grey. There were no glass floors or plates of random gadgets on the console. She looked for the school bell or gramophone or keyboard but only found a very mechanical spread of knobs and buttons.

She twirled on the spot – it was very symmetrical and clean. There was no hint that a madman lived in the box. Judging by the stone busts, blackboards, and bookshelves, she would’ve thought a professor lived there.

“Doctor?” she called out, suddenly very afraid. Surely this was a different TARDIS. And if it were the same… there was only one instance she knew changed the interior of the TARDIS.

It put a steely grate over her chest, “Have you regenerated?” she whispered towards the ceiling. “Could it happen that fast?”

The TARDIS hummed a reply and (Y/N) put a hand over her mouth. Is that how it worked? One second you’re fine and the next you’re zapped into a whole new life?

“Where you off to, darling?” A man came through the front door, “I’ve grown the distinct craving for biscuits. I mean, we should make some biscuits. The grandkids are on their way!”

He was tall and older, his grey hair flying away in curling puffs. There was a quirkiness about the way he tottered around the console. And taking that into consideration along with the hoodie jacket he was wearing… she figured he felt younger than he looked.

She folded her arms, eyeing him with first confusion and then disbelief.

“Darling!” he yelled out again – he sounded Scottish – and he came round to where (Y/N) was. “The grandkids will be wanting their biscuits.”

He squeaked when he saw (Y/N), “Ah! What have you done?”

She blinked hard, “I don’t believe it.”

“What have you done to your face?”

“What have you done to yours!” she said back, pointing at him accusingly. “You’re all… grandfatherly.”

“Is that a new cream you’re using?” he tilted his head, “It’s doing wonders for your skin.”

(Y/N) felt the corners of her mouth twitch in an almost smile. “Doctor?”

“Yes, darling? Did you hear me about the grandkids?” he continued to stare at her with droopy blue eyes.

She felt her heart beat a little harder, filling her chest with a generous warmth. “I don’t have any grandkids,” she whispered.

He laughed, “Ha! Hilarious.”

“Doctor,” she said quietly, “I thought you were cleverer than this.”

It took him another moment, peering down at her left hand, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

“My what?”

“Reckon you’re not married to me anymore? Remember the last time you pulled that stunt,” he said, clearly upset, “You wouldn’t put it back on until I said I was sorry. Most unbearable apology I’ve ever made.”

“Why did you need to apologize?” she smiled.

He pursed his lips, “I missed date night for a tour in the Tacinzi Nebula Concert.”

She giggled, “A concert? Why didn’t you just take me with you?”

“You’re not as fond of the electric guitar.” He looked at her hand again, “You would’ve known that.”

She nodded, “I’m not your (Y/N)… not yet.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow, taking a step back, “You… you, you’re not supposed to be here. How did you get here?” He knotted his fingers together like his old self, “How did you know I was the Doctor?”

She shook her head, amused by him, “I don’t know. We were in the artifact room and the next thing I knew this electricity coursed through me and I appeared here in a puff of smoke. Like a magic trick.” She eyed his staring, “I recognized this as the TARDIS and you… well, there’s no one quite like the Doctor.”

His brow creased, “Sorry, were you talking? I got distracted by your face.”

“Still dodgy with the compliments, are you?” she smiled, “You’ve regenerated again.”

He suddenly walked away and meddled with his console, “So I have.”

“And I’m still with you.”

“I never said that.”

“So you’re still an idiot as well.”

He spluttered, “You can’t talk to me like that – you’re not my wife.”

“Not yet,” she grinned, cheekily. “I see that ring on your finger.” She nodded to the ornate golden ring he wore.

“(Y/N),” he grumbled, “You know there are strict rules about crossing timestreams. It’s very bad for business.”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” she laughed.

He shrugged, mumbling, “It’s just business.”

“I still can’t believe you chose someone Scottish this time.”

“Can’t you?” a feminine voice came from the stairs, “He did that on purpose. The last person he saw before regenerating was Amy. He just followed his favorite Scot.”

“Darling!” the Doctor yelled, flailing to the stairs, “I don’t really see how this is the time to be…”

(Y/N) stared in shock, “Oh my god.” She was looking upon an older version of herself. Decades older. “You’re me.”

“Yes, dear,” she said, brushing the Doctor away. (Y/N) saw the twinkling of a ring on her finger. “I was wondering when this was going to happen.”

“You knew this was going to happen?” (Y/N) asked, not daring to get too close to her older self.

She nodded, “Happened to me, so naturally it was going to happen to you.”

The Doctor grumbled against the console, “Are we forgetting that I am right here? Aren’t I the clever one you should be asking questions to?”

The older (Y/N) whispered behind her hand, “Best make him feel useful.” She winked and called out, “Have you calibrated her travel coordinates yet?”

He gapped his mouth as if he were trying to think of something to say. But with a quick, “Shut up,” he went to the console to work.

(Y/N) giggled, “You’ve got him on a leash.”

“I haven’t got a leash, thank you,” the Doctor said, “I just took advice from my assistant.”

“Demoted to assistant again?” the elder (Y/N) mocked, “That’ll change when you can’t find your sunglasses.”

(Y/N) shook her head in wonder, “This is insane. I – I have so many questions.”

“I expect as much,” she said, “I did very much the same thing.”

“You haven’t regenerated yet?”

Elder (Y/N) shrugged, “Haven’t needed to. This one’s rather protective.”

“But he has.”

“Yes, that’s the unfortunate side effect of being a time traveling daredevil. You’ve experienced that by now, haven’t you?” She waited for her younger self to nod before continuing, “He chose an older man this time around so we could appear similar in age as I was getting older.”

(Y/N) eyed the gray-haired Doctor, “That’s rather romantic.”

“Yes, he thought so too. Until it actually happened, and he hasn’t stopped complaining since. Hates being called granddad by anyone other than the kids.”

“Oh, yes – kids!” (Y/N) gasped, “How many do we have?”

“Three.”

The Doctor shouted, “Language!”

The elder (Y/N) ignored him, “Two boys and one girl.”

“When will they learn to listen to me,” the Doctor mumbled.

“What was that, dear?”

“I love you, darling.” He typed a few things on a screen, “You’re the light of my life.”

Elder (Y/N) nodded, “Too right, you are.” She bit the inside of her cheek, “Where was I? Oh, yes – William is the oldest. He’s a brilliant doctor of pediatrics; completely inherited his father’s arrogance but can never say no to a crying child.”

(Y/N) let her eyes travel to the floor, her mind snapshotting pictures from her past. “This is my kid brother, Thomas.”

“Our second is called Thomas,” the elder (Y/N) said, pondering herself, “He’s our little history professor. Travels the stars, that one. We’re very proud of him.”

“Brilliant scientist,” the Doctor chimed, “He’s nearly figured the formula to regrowing tardis’ without Gallifrey.”

Elder (Y/N) almost giggled at her own stunned reaction, “It should please you to know that Will studied under Dr. Martha Jones-Smith. And he only became interested in the field because of nurse Rory.”

“Good old Roricus,” the Doctor hummed.

“I think I met them before.”

“Did you?” the Doctor said, “Thought I taught them better than that.”

Elder (Y/N) clacked her tongue, “Nonsense – don’t tell me you were never curious of seeing your parents while they were still dating.”

“Yes, but just for a visit? At least tell me they were there to solve a mystery or help save the world!”

(Y/N) shook her head, “We met at an outdoor retreat.”

“Oh, probably deleted that information,” the Doctor said, pressing a few buttons and pulling a lever.

“You’re going to meet someone called Clara,” elder (Y/N) interrupted, “Keep her around. She’ll be important in Tom’s decision to be a teacher. Though I always hoped I had some kind of influence in that career too.”

“Are you ever going to stop revealing her future,” the Doctor rambled, “There won’t be any surprises!”

(Y/N) felt emotion in her throat at the thought of her friends being there for her children, “And our third?”

The Doctor sighed, “Little girl called Emma.”

(Y/N) almost scoffed, disbelieving. Her mind sent another round of snapshotted pictures. “You can disapprove of my methods all you like, Doctor. But I’m just like you.”

“She’s the most like her dad, she is,” (Y/N) laughed, “Jumping across the universe and saving people.”

“If only that infernal Professor Song hadn’t gotten her to become an archeologist.”

“But she does good with it,” elder (Y/N) said. “The Doctor can never say no to her. She has him wrapped around her little finger.”

The Doctor shrugged, “She’s my little girl.” He swung around, “Hang on a minute. You said you knew this was going to happen.” He pointed a finger at his wife.

She snickered, “Yes, dear – how else was I to know we needed Clara? Or that we needed to have three children. All of them have a crucial purpose to our futures.”

“When did this happen?” he asked, “You never cared to tell me?”

“I couldn’t say,” she shrugged, “Spoilers. You’d let it go to your head.”

“Nonsense,” he grumbled, “Tell me – what were you doing right before you were zapped here?”

(Y/N) flickered her eyes between the married couple, “I uh… well the Doctor gave me a scavenger hunt. And I met him in the artifact room. He had put Amy’s wedding bouquet in a display case.”

“Yes, a very important family heirloom.”

“And he was there… with a ring box.”

“WHAT!” the Doctor slipped away from the console, “And you left him there? Don’t you realize he’s absolutely beside himself worrying about where you just vanished?” He pointed towards his wife, “You could’ve told me this is where you disappeared to.”

She shrugged, “Spoilers.”

“But he’s got a very important question to ask!” He turned to the younger (Y/N), “You have to get back to him now! The poor man is losing his marbles thinking you’re lost. Don’t let him wait in his panic now.”

“It wasn’t my choice to vanish! It just happened,” she cried, “Don’t get mad at me.”

Elder (Y/N) smiled sadly, “He’s just remembering how it felt.”

“Well, send me back if you can!” She felt his panic, “You’ve been working all this while.”

He frowned, “I thought I’d lost you to space when in reality you were sent here chatting away with your older self, having a grand old time.”

His wife came behind him and took his hand, “But there was never need to worry. I’d seen we were going to be all right. We had a whole future ahead of us – a family to look forward to. We had all of time and space for it to work out.” She kissed the back of his hand, “You’re just too impatient for it. I couldn’t tell you.”

He sighed, gazing down at her with somber eyes. It was knowing and dear and warm. It was a gaze that said they didn’t need words to say what they meant to each other.

(Y/N) looked at them and felt her heart stutter. She wanted her Doctor to look at her like that.

“Can you send me back?”

The Doctor turned lazily to her, clearly lovestruck by his wife, “Of course I can. I’m the Doctor aren’t I?” And he entered his coordinates into the console, pulling on an accelerator.

(Y/N) immediately felt that strange surge of energy tingle up her legs. Her spine shivered, static tickling her veins. “I think it’s working.”

“Now, dear, remember that journal of yours. It’ll be important for historians and time travelers everywhere.”

“And give the old me some slack, eh?” the Doctor said, holding tight to his wife’s hand, “He loves you an awful lot. Losing you is his worst nightmare.”

“Let him protect you, is what he’s saying,” elder (Y/N) said, “Makes him feel better.” She winked.

“Hug him real tight,” the Doctor muttered, “Don’t let go.”

And somewhere around her navel tugged her forward. A zap like a bolt of lightning ran through her, locking her limbs into place. A puff of smoke enveloped her as she rubbed at her stinging eyes.

“I hope I don’t have to get used to that,” she coughed, her head heavy with lead again.

But then something slammed into her, gripping her tight. The breath was knocked from her lungs, and she wheezed a laugh. She was squeezed so tight that she couldn’t see his face.

“Doctor… can’t breathe.”

He was positively quaking, “Where the hell have you been?” His fingers clawed around her as if he was trying to pull as much of her to him as possible.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “I don’t remember. How long was I gone?”

“Too long,” he said into her shoulder, “Long enough to think you were lost forever.”

She remembered the words of his next regeneration. And she hugged him real tight. “I’m all right. I’m here. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He took a deep breath, finally retracting his hold to grasp her face.

His eyes were the same lake water green. Perhaps a bit pink around the rims. His face was no longer lined, his eyebrows not bushy but his chin considerably larger. His hair was floppy and brown, very different from the flyaway grey. And his bowtie bobbed at his throat as he took in her face.

“Never ever do that again,” he said, angry in tone but his face full of leftover panic. “You terrified me.”

She smiled slowly, reaching up to brush his fringe away, “Ask me.” She gave a watery laugh, “You can ask me now.”

He tilted his head and began to smile as well, “You sure? You’re not going to disappear again?” He fumbled for his tweed pocket.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she grinned, her eyes welling up as she saw the ring box.

The Doctor blew an audible breath, “Right – here we go.” He sniffed, falling to one knee, “(Y/N)…”

She clutched her chest, “Yes!”

“Wait a moment,” he laughed, grinning like he was looking at the most wonderous sight. “(Y/N), would you be willing to save my life?”

“Yes!”

He chuckled, “And do me the absolute honor of traveling the stars together, for all of time and space?”

“Yes, you clever idiot!”

The Doctor opened his ring box and stared imploringly at her, “Will you marry me?”

She squealed, and jumped on him, knocking the pair of them to the floor, “Yes, yes, yes!”

He wrapped his arms around her middle, supporting her into a sitting position. They laughed heartily, the Doctor fumbling with extracting the ring from the box. In a tangle of limbs on the ground, he found her hand and thread the ring on her finger.

It was a beautiful rectangular sapphire. It was set as a crown, ringlets of intricate silver designs winding around her finger. It glittered in the light – the sky of a million stars blazing within the deepest blue. The whole of time and space bound in a vow.

“Do you like it?” he asked like a boy desiring praise.

She grasped his face, planting a kiss on him, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he kissed back, “More and more every day.”

She held him close, “For all of time and space.”

Now the fiancée, it seemed like a million years ago she was known as the dying girl.

The dying girl. The dying girl who lived.

~~~

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[devils-dares]

hi!! i’m a huge fan of ur work omg.

i’ve had this idea for a bit but i lack the word skills to write it but: matt x child reader where child is autistic maybe? like how they’d bond over sensory input and output, stuff like that? just a thought idk

hi! i don't want to explicitly say this is for reader with autism, as i don't personally have it and don't want to write it in a way that doesn't represent people with it or offends them in any way. i do, however, suffer from sensory input due to my disability.

as always when writing these i try to be as inclusive as possible, if i have offended anyone in any way, please let me know.

thanks!

-----

“Busy today, hm?” Your dad says, referencing the supermarket that’s overflowing with shoppers.

“We should’ve gone earlier in the week, not on a Saturday.”

“It’s okay, we were out of cereal anyways.” He takes hold of your upper arm as the two of you walk in.

Almost immediately the sounds of the store bombard you, from the squeaky carts to the endless conversations, the beeping of the scanners, not to mention the visual input, the sea of people flowing back and forth. You grit your teeth, the buzzing of the lights making your bones hurt.

“You okay?” Matt asks, squeezing your arm.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, why?”

“Oh, you didn’t respond, I just asked what was first on the list.”

“Bread. We need bread.”

“Lead the way.” You rush through the store, catching your dad off guard as you pull him with you.

“You’re in a rush.” His words slip past your ears as you get bombarded with new sounds, louder this time. Your hands instinctively go over your ears, pressing hard as you try to soothe yourself. Suddenly, the lights get brighter, the world starts spinning, and the crowd doesn’t stop coming.

“No no no.” You murmur, and you feel yourself getting tugged out of the store as you close your eyes.

“Hey, eyes on me, eyes on me.” You hear your dad say. You try your best to focus on him, but when you open your eyes, your surroundings look like a muddied painting, everything looking blended together. Your ears are still ringing and you’re still dizzy.

“Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“Too much, the sound I can’t- dizzy.”

“Okay, hey, let’s try to breathe, okay? We’re in a safe, quiet area. Grab my hands, let’s take a breath.” You squeeze his fingers to high hell, and you know it aches him but you need to ground yourself.

“You’re doing so good, so well. Keep taking those deep breaths, I’m so proud of you.” He stays quiet as he hears your heart fall into a normal paced rhythm, and your breathing gets back to normal.

“Good job, let’s get home, okay?”

“But the groceries-”

“I’ll come back for them, don’t worry your head about that.”

-----

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I do, actually.”

“Okay, I’m here.” He passes you a hot chocolate and takes his seat next to you on the couch.

“It’s been happening more and more recently. Those- episodes. In school too, I can just hide it well most of the time, y’know? It’s just that sometimes everything gets to be too much, the smells get stronger, my eyes start darting, everything gets so much louder and it makes everything hurt.”

“I get it-”

“Dad-”

“No seriously! I do, I promise. The thing about being Daredevil, these powers that I have, it gets too much. I can’t go out in the rain, it feels like everything is pounding and throbbing around me. I need silk sheets because cotton feels like sandpaper on my skin. I can’t use most shampoos or soaps because the scents burn my nose. I get it, I do, I just wish you told me earlier so I could help you.”

“How? How does this get better?”

“I use grounding techniques, meditation, I even pack headphones to shut out the world sometimes. We could go out in short stints for exposure therapy. I want to help you, and I want you to be able to rely on me for support.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks Dad.”

“That’s what I’m here for, kiddo.”

[ameliawarnerr]

Pov: Jake’s eyes tell everything he's feeling. Especially possessiveness (Part 1)

Overview: A dinner night with Jake, Phil, Dan, Jessy and Lilly. (You and Jake decide to live in Duskwood. It's been one week and you are staying at Lilly’s place with Hannah.)

Thinking of it from a third person’s perceptive, it's a little crazy that you, Hannah, Lilly and Jake are under the same roof. You found everyone nice in the group from the start except for Lilly. From Lilly, you also know that Hannah had a thing for Jake which may or may have not changed over the years, keeping in mind Hannah didn't know that Jake is her half brother until recently. You had been working so hard to find this one person still you can't properly communicate with her.

And between you and Jake, things have been slow and favourable. He doesn't show the resistance he always did over chat. And you found out that he's not at all a person who find it hard to express his emotions. Over the chat, it was inevitable to assume that. There's isn't a drastic change in his words— they remain limited, to the point and brutally honest. Even if his words are lacking, his eyes tell everything. They don't whisper, they scream. His eyes are the most beautiful shade of green you have ever seen. The black of his hair only makes his gaze more intense.

Right now, you are lost in the familiar green. With a hand under your chin and elbow supported by the arm of the couch, you stare at him as he works on his computer. You don't even try to hide it. What could possibly be the outcome of it? Him looking back at you? That's an incredible possibility.

His hands, his hands, constantly typing, suddenly stop. His face still on the screen. “You know, I have used backspace key five times now which I rarely do.” He says, and turns towards you. His eyes on you now. “In other words, I can't concentrate if you keep staring at me.” He sounds like he is complaining but his eyes tell a different story.

“Am I making you anxious?” You ask.

“Anxious? You are making me want to turn this thing off which is a new feeling.” It makes you smile.

“Maybe that is my intention.” You get up, with your phone in your hand and walk as if you are just taking a walk which randomly leads you to where he is.

He looks at the screen. Looks at you. And sighs before turning towards the screen and turning off the computer. While doing it, he whispers, “Evil. You are evil.”

“Ouch.” You bring your hand to your chest, pretending to be hurt.

He finally switches off the computer and turns his chair towards you, opening his arms for you. You take a step towards him ready to fall into his embrace. But suddenly you regret having a phone as it rings.

You look at the screen. Jake looks at you.

“You really need to take that?” He pleads, not asking who it is. And you just know he won't be pleased to know but you feel the urge to let him know.

“Its Phil.”

His soft expression change drastically into an annoyed face. You fight the urge to laugh but fail.

“God, why’s he such a plague upon our existence?” He leans back on the chair, putting his index finger and thumb on his closed eyes.

“Your existence.” You correct him, and he opens his eyes, raising his eyebrow. You continue after a shrug, “He’s fine with me. Not to mention, but I can't deny his efforts for being respectful and less of a flirt.”

“Well, that's the whole problem, is it not? He’s nice to you and in return, you have to be nice to him which is annoying.” He gets up from his chair, standing in front of you.

You take a step closer to him and suddenly you both forget what you were talking about. It's just him in front of him and you infront of him. His hand touches you jaw softly and you feel yourself melting at his tenderness.

He leans in, you close you eyes.

Lilly opens the door. “God, I designed the do-not-disturb board especially for this.” She says, eyes covered with her hands. “Why can't you just hang it on the door?”

“Another plague upon my life.” You hear Jake whispering as he mover a little back. You fight a smile.

“Well, we do not discuss before doing something do-not-disturb board worthy.” You reason as you move towards her.

“Anyway, just put your slow make out on a pause. Dinner is ready. And we have a few guests on the table. You might know them. Jessy, Dan and Phil. Heard of them? Cleo couldn't come. Hannah asked to eat in her room. So come on.” She says.

You wonder why Phil called if he was just one storey under you.

“Can’t we eat here too?” You hear Jake saying from behind.

“No.” You and Lilly say at the same time.

“You need to socialize at times.” Lilly reasons. Jessy calls Lilly from downstairs. “I need to go. Hurry, okay?” She says before leaving.

Jake walks and stands beside you. He sighs and looks at you. “And what's your reason for denying such an opportunity?”

You shrug. “Dan is here.” Dan has become your bestfriend. And being Dan’s bestfriend, you now know that he secretly admires Jake.

Jake looks around and says, “Another plague—”

You cut him off with a kiss on the lips. He stares at you in a short lived shock and looks away, hiding his smile.

[venenatd]

just friends; eren jaegar x reader

summary: you and eren are best pals and have both recently be dumped. so, a plan to get over your exes is needed! what’s better than going out on the town trying to find quick fucks >:) also eren is a smug bastard but kinda has a heart of gold??

content: smut / nsfw 18+. minors dni. (choking, unprotected sex, creampie drinking, drunk sex, possessiveness ig? dirty talk, both of them want to be dominant tbh. slight size kink, oral both m and f receiving. female bodied reader) 

i am new to this pls let me know if i should add anything!!

word count: 5.8k words of unedited content 

a/n: uh so i never thought i’d be back on my tumblr bullshit at 23 but hey after years without the app i’m back. i needed to get out the h-word and this is what happened. enjoy and i’m sorry if it’s terrible lmao

“You look different” 

Frowning at the man waiting ever so patiently for you on the sofa, you look a little defeated. “Is that meant to be a compliment, Eren?”. He sighed, raising his eyebrows at you. To be fair, maybe you did. Wearing a figure hugging black dress, that definitely just hid your ass cheeks, hair styled and sprayed in place, dark lipstick and makeup on your face. Usually Eren would have seen you in sweats, always running a little late for class, snack in hand. 

“Different isn’t bad,” he offered, checking the watch that lay on his wrist, “are we ever going to get to the bar? Your plan will fall through if you’re not careful.”

Ah, the plan. Both you and Eren were newly single. In your final year at university, having managed to keep each relationship going until almost the end. Ironic. Weren’t most meant to fail in the first year? But alas, your partners had decided it was the end within a couple of weeks each other, and as you and Eren had been close since you met on orientation day, you each took to the other for comfort. You had done the crying first, going to him the minute your call with the ex had ended. Leaving wet splotches on his shirt, he had calmed you, only for you to do the same to him later. Now the crying was done, it was time to move on, and what better advice to follow than getting under someone to get over another?

“I just need to look hot enough for a guy to fuck me.”

“What a romantic you are.”

“Shut up Er-”

Eren shifted from the couch, interrupting your usual sass, “and what about me, y/n? Do I look beautiful?”. He threw in a wink with his comment, his aura of cockiness always radiating. You rolled your eyes, before studying his figure. His dark hair half pulled back into a bun, the rest draping his neck and onto a deep emerald green silk shirt, with the top few buttons loose, tucked into dark pants. A ring on each hand, fingers with chipping black nail polish, and to top it off, a thin chain on his neck. You hated to admit it and add to his smug demeanour but... the man did look good. 

“Gorgeous as always Eren,” you said sarcastically, even if it was truthful, “I’m sure there will be a queue of women who are wanting to jump on you.”

“Not if they aren’t all taken already,” he taps at his watch. Whilst the two of you had already been drinking as he waited for you to get ready, it was definitely on the later side.

“Order the uber, and we can go.”

Walking over to him and adding shoes to your outfit, you present yourself before him, a cute little smile playing on your lips. He’s staring down at his phone, quickly going through the motions for the ride. Finally, he looks up to catch your eyes. His jade pupils flick down slightly, and he hopes you miss that they land at the cleavage you’re sporting in your current get up. He flicks your nose, earning a scowl from you and a smile from him.

“You look perfect”

The club is far fuller than you both expected, dance floor and tables taken up and crowded round. Luckily, you had managed to secure you and Eren a pair of seats at the bar, and you were currently on your third..? Fourth drink of the evening. Green eyes watch your lips carefully, as you finish the vodka and lemonade. 

“So, anyone take your fancy?” he prompts, looking around at the mess of people.

Humming, you scan the area. There’s some people you recognise from class, but plenty more you don’t know. Fucking friends seems like a bad move, even in your tipsy state, so you look to the strangers faces. They don’t look like him. Ugh. 

There’s a few options though, and as you point them out to Eren they come with brief descriptors: dark hair and stubble, wide set blonde. He tuts at the options, sarcastically letting out a “sure sure, I see the appeal”. 

“And how about you, anyone you like the look of?” you ask with a sigh.

Christ, Eren thinks to himself. It’s been long enough that he hasn’t had to look for someone else. Sure there were attractive people in the world, but with her around, he hadn’t needed to give anyone else a second look. His palm moves to the back of his neck, stretching out behind him with a huff. “Let’s look on the dance floor?” he offers, clearly not as eager as you were tonight. Moving his hand back down, he holds it out for you, pulling towards the throng of people.

He looks effervescently cool like this. Shirt open, hair starting to fall from his bun. Eren is looking around at the people surrounding the two of you. The two of you had been working in circles, allowing each other an eyeful as the club goers move around the space. As a group of guys push their way from the dance floor to the bar, you get shoved towards Eren. Heels were never quite your forte, and you stumble against him, hands on either side of his chest. Grinning down at you with that smug little smile that annoyed you so much, Eren brought large hands to your waist, pushing you away a little. But his hands stay there as he continues to sway to the music, making no effort to break the contact. And so you bring your arms up to his neck, allowing his movements to carry you on time to the song. For the first time in the past couple of weeks, you feel light. Your chest isn’t constricted by some foreign weight. It’s just you and your best friend, buzzed and free.

Colours change above you, as you look up to Eren, him down to you. A playful grin takes his lips as he pulls you a little closer, you so easily accepting the narrowing distance. Your black silk meets his deep green, chest pushing into his. You carefully analyse his features, seeing if he attempts to check you out like earlier. 

Was it the alcohol making your cheeks so warm? Lit up by a purple hue, you watch his eyes return to exploring the crowd, his hand still holding on to you. His smirk falters, his eyebrows creasing together. You’re not moving in circles anymore, Eren pausing in his movements as he thinks about what to do next. He shouldn’t lie to you, but seeing your ex at the bar would really harsh the night. Under his fingers, he can feel your body tense, suddenly unsure at how close the contact between you was. 

But Eren doesn’t want you to know, he doesn’t want you to be distracted by your ex tonight. He doesn’t want to see your hurt little face anymore. The way your eyes would be red and puffy the next day. The way he would feel your shoulders heaving under his arms. You don’t deserve that. Hell, you didn’t deserve the huge amount of shit your ex had put you through over the years he’d known you. Eren would sit back and listen to you rant, support you where he could. But fuck that guy. And he wasn’t sure what sparked in his chest, but Eren’s jade orbs are trained straight back on you. His eyebrows calm, tension releasing from them. As you can turn to scope out whatever had changed his body language so suddenly, he catches your jaw. 

Beginning to slowly move again, his eyes have narrowed, taking in the way the dress hugs you, the shine on your skin from the hot dance floor. Eren couldn’t quite figure out what was intoxicating him right now. Definitely a lot of alcohol, but also a sudden… possessiveness. He didn’t want you in pain anymore. Eren wanted you in pleasure. His breath is suddenly on your neck, making your hair raise. 

“I’ve only seen one person I’m interested in tonight.” 

“Oh?” you squeak, before clearing your throat a little. The new deep notes in his voice catch you off guard. It almost sounds like he’s… No. He’s your best friend. The little looks you’d been giving each other all night were just two people looking out for one another, two people seeing each other happy for the first time in a while. Your voice is calmer as you ask light-heartedly, “and who would that be?” 

His lips are so close to your ear. 

“You.” 

“Eren-” your hands move from behind his neck, resting on his shoulders. You need to see your best friend's face, you need to know if he’s joking right now. If he’s mocking you. When you draw back, you see his face. Smug, as always. Fuck you’ve always wanted to knock that cockiness down a peg. Cheshire smile showing his teeth and his eyes looking down at you. Half lidded eyes, pupils blown. He’s not joking. Fuck.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your breath is caught in your throat. All too aware suddenly of each of his finger pads pressing into your skin, the contact feeling like fire with the added alcohol. But, you find yourself nodding, the yes just escaping your lips before he’s pressed into them.

Large hands travel to your hip, and up your back, pressing you into him. You can feel his body, tense in exhilaration against you, hands back around his neck. One travels up to the nape of his back, tangling into his hair and pulling him deeper into you. The music is all consuming, you can feel the bass in your body, you can feel Eren against you, you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

Eren’s hand on your back travels up, echoing your placement on him, to hold the back of your neck. He doesn’t want you to go, you feel too good. The heat between your bodies could suffocate him. His thumb puts pressure under your jaw, he isn’t even sure you can feel it. But he can, measuring your pulse racing underneath the pad. He’s smiling into this kiss, this all consuming kiss.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and you’re all too eager to allow him into your mouth. Tasting the whisky from your home, tasting the coke from the club. His teeth take your lip nipping slightly, before sucking the plump of it into his mouth. You both come up for air, eyes meeting in acknowledgment of the situation.

“Wanna get out of here?”

The drive home had only served to heap tension between you. As clearly that it was that you wanted each other, you would have to wait a while longer. Your thighs pressed together, slowly inhaling and exhaling. Going through your mind was whether this was a good idea, staring out at the city passing by you. Eren was your friend. You were dating another man two weeks ago. The same man that had previously asked you if he needed to be worried about Eren. You’d laughed it off, because it was Eren. You were brought out of your thoughts when you felt him grip your leg, a little too harshly at first, before settling, leaving a gentle pattern of circles and lines on your inner thigh. It was Eren.

Just one hallway. You had to make it one hallway to get into your apartment. One hallway left to come to your senses. And just like he read your mind, Eren is once again touching you, just his hand on yours pulling you backwards. You twist just in time, his hands instantly cupping your cheeks as he kisses you, deeply and intensely. Pushing you back into the wall, you pray a neighbour doesn’t walk out now. His knee is pressing gently between your legs, and you allow it. Your fingers sink into Eren’s arms, lightly covered by the fabric yet you can still feel the muscle underneath, relaxing and tensing as he pulls you closer. 

His lips are making their way to your jaw, lifting your chin upwards, tentatively licking the bone before moving downwards still, sucking and nipping and licking your neck. A whimper breaks through. You really need to get inside. Gripping his hair, you sharply pull backwards.

“Not going to play nice, huh?” 

When did he speak like this? The playful and shit-eating grin your friend Eren always wore was replaced by something darker, his words laced with intent. 

“Don’t challenge me.” 

You were off, finally at your door, making quick work with the lock, moving in first before he followed. The door shut as you pushed Eren against it, usual doe eyes being taken over with a deep lust. Your hands are instantly at his belt, as his hands find your face once again. This time he’s grabbing your hair, making you look up at him as he glares down at you. You’re constantly challenging one another in conversation, and it’s translating to the bedroom far too easily. 

Lips are on one another again, as you leave the belt and start towards his shirt. You bite down on his bottom lip, earning a hiss from him, and you feel his hand being brought around your throat. He doesn’t add too much pressure, checking if this turn is indeed okay with you. When you push against the weight, he takes the gleam in your eye as a yes, and uses the force to push you against the next wall, finally moving off the front door. 

It’s a constant battle to get to the bedroom, both of you taking control for short bursts. Eren pulling the thin straps of your dress down, you untucking his shirt. His muscular torso is on full display, and you had never viewed it in this light before. 

Finally he pushes you onto the bed, situating himself between your legs. Your kisses are sloppy and infused with alcohol. Hands are desperate with one another, both of you needing to be closer. Are you scared if the contact ends your thoughts will return to sanity? 

Eren’s hot and heavy over you, his hands seem everywhere at once. Smoothing up your thigh, digging in slightly to the flesh when you grind against one another. His hands rest at your hips for a moment, and he’s looking down at you, still fucking smiling. All at once, he’s flipped you over his prominent hard on pressing into your ass. He’s whispering in your ear, leaving wet kisses along your neck, to your shoulder blades. Fingers take the zip at the back of your dress, slowly and carefully pulling it down, leaving licks and pecks as he goes. It’s torturous. 

You attempt to speed things up by rutting your ass against his crotch, and you think you hear a quiet moan, before his hand is brought down to the fabric, smacking your cheek. You gasp, turning your head to look at him. Eren is too occupied in taking in all of your body, his green eyes are darkened with authority and lust. His nimble fingers play with the short hem of your dress, thumb dipping beneath, before he pushes the silk up. 

You both let out soft fuck’s, as his hands grab at the plump of your ass. It’s like he’s testing the softness, the way your flesh responds to his touch so easily. He slaps at you again, earning a sharp moan from you. Eren’s leaning down, his mouth once again trailing across the apex of your behind, leaving trails of saliva as he goes. Before you can even register the new sensations you can feel a soft pressure against your clothed cunt, just enough to let you know the presence of his hand, but not enough for you to get off on. You’re mewling, once again trying to get closer to him. This time he allows it, eagerly pressing his ring and middle finger to your clit, allowing you to grind upon them. 

Seeing you underneath him like this… it’s new and strange and so fucking hot. He’s watching you desperately try and fill the need building in your core, and he can only feel his cock twitch in his pants as he sees you coming undone. If you wanted more, he could definitely give it to you. Bringing his large hands away, to the flimsy fabric that was covering you, he pulls it down, exposing you to him. His heart and dick fucking jump. His hands return to your ass, watching the jiggle as you move and whimper. Spreading you, he brings his face down, breath tingling on your most sensitive areas.

Your breath catches in your throat as his tongue, gentle at first, licks between your folds. He’s tasting you, he’s moaning into your pussy, as you write beneath him. Eren’s hands are squeezing your ass cheeks, holding you still as you try to grind against his face. 

“Patience, y/n”, he says, with a slap on your behind again. 

“Fuck you,” you hiss. 

“You will be in a minute, baby girl, don’t worry.”

You go to make a retort but he’s instantly back, licking up your slit and a deep moan escapes you. Jesus you can feel the smile on his lips as he’s back on your pussy. Eren is so proud of the sounds he can draw from you. He wonders if your ex could make you come undone so easily. 

You taste sweet and saccharine on him, and he doesn’t hold back the groan as he further works his way into you. Hardened tongue moving it’s way from your entrance down to your clit. He swipes at it, before moving away again. Kissing your thighs, kissing the skin between your holes. Every now and then he’ll move back to your clit, allowing you a moment of pleasure before he’s teasing again. “Fuck, please”. Your whines are being smothered by the sheets, and Eren wants nothing more than to hear them, loud and clear.

Eren’s ringed fingers make their way to your hair, his face lifting from between your legs. He pulls you back round, and holy shit you can see how wet you are on his face. There’s a sheen to his lips and chin, and instinctively you reach up to his neck, pulling him back on top of you. Your tongue meets his, tasting your tartness on his mouth. A hand makes it way back down in between your thighs, playing and parting your folds. Your hand in turn reaches up his neck, pulling sharply at his hair once again. “Eren. More- please” you get out in between staggered breaths. 

“Aw, since you asked so nicely” his eyes watch your expression closely as his thumb rests on your clit, his finger swiftly moving inside you. Your eyebrows raise and knot, eyes wide and lips parted. But he keeps it still as your legs shaked around his arm. “Eren, move” you demand this time. 

“Oh, that’s not so nice. I liked it when you were polite.” He starts to retract his finger, thumb gently swabbing your clit so you’ll know what you miss.

“Please, please, please, Eren, please” you speak before he even gets the first knuckle out. All the teasing was creating a tightness in your lower stomach. 

“Much better.”

You whine as he continues to pull his finger from you, until he pushes it back in, curling his solitary finger up. Your fingernails are pressing deep into the muscle of his bicep, feeling how it moves as he finger fucks you. He’s hitting that perfect spot inside you again and again, and his thumb is swiping eagerly on your clit. 

Eren can feel you fluttering around his finger, desperate for more, desperate to release on him. He adds another finger, your wetness allowing him entrance easily. He wants to fuck you so bad, his cock so hard it felt like it was about to burst. 

He pushes your hands off him, leaving crescent moon indents deep in his skin, he works his way back down. He brings the black silk with him this time, fully being able to take in your body as you’re left naked before him. Holy shit you’re beautiful. He doesn’t want to stare too long and make you shy. But he still kisses his way down, before he’s back at your pussy. 

This time he allows you more movement, letting your fingers work their way back into his hair, letting you roll your hips against his tongue and stubble. 

With his spare hand he pulls out his cock, slowly pulling at it, before he realises he can’t do that for too long without cumming before the main event. Instead he reaches up, rolling your perked nipples in between his fingers. There are so many sensations on your body, and Eren can feel your cunt beginning to tighten around his fingers. You hold your breath before letting out little moans, building towards reaching your height.

“You want to cum on my fingers?

Your back is arching, whispering “yes, yes, yes, please” as your walls are tightening around him. He quickens the pace, making sure to hit that spot inside you over and over. Thighs around his face, he can feel your slick pooling in his mouth, and coating his chin once again. 

Your gummy walls are so tight around his thick fingers, he needs you to finish, watch you fully unravel below him. Sucking and licking at your clit, he’s pushing you towards the edge. 

“Eren-” his name is strangled coming out of you, and then your moaning, undulating your cunt against his mouth, riding out your orgasm. 

His jade eyes look up at you, watching as you pull your head up to look at him, before another wave of pleasure hits you and you have to arch your neck and look back up. He waits for you to come down, letting you fuck his face and fingers. Grinding against his stubble and tongue as you let out pitiful and beautiful moans. You’re so fucking wet, the sounds coming from between the two of you should be forbidden, as you release onto him. 

Finally he withdraws, using his forearm to wipe his face. He lies next to you, allowing you a moment as he draws little circles on your stomach. Eren has never quite looked at you in this light. Sure, you were pretty, and the two of you were obviously close. But now you’d walked a line that couldn’t be undone. You weren’t over your ex, and as okay as Eren was with what had happened between you, he didn’t want you to run. He’s overcome with thoughts, looking down to your chest and the heavy breaths you were taking. All he could pray was that you weren’t pretending he was someone else. 

But as Eren is getting caught up in his own mind, you’re twisting, hand reaching to his crotch, cock having been recaptured by his boxers. Palming him, you feel how big he really is for the first time. Fingers trace the edge of his pants and underwear, and he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull them down. Shit. His dick slapped back to his stomach, precum leaking from the top of his pink head. He was bigger than you’d imagined, because of course you’d imagined it a couple of times.

Your hand looks so small around his cock, but you slowly tease him, his deep green orbs following your movements. Bringing your head down to him, you kitten lick the precum from the top of his dick. He hisses gently, and you look up at him with these big doe eyes, so fucking eager to please.

You push your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue as you begin working along his shaft. He moans just at the sight of you, your eyes peeking up through dark lashes. His hand goes through your hair, eagerly pushing you deeper around him. 

He lets out a hoarse, “is this okay?” before you put your own hand on his pushing it for the both of you. You don’t even want to come up for air, you just want him close to you, inside you. 

You were learning far more about each other than you had expected, as Eren takes back over. He pushes himself further into you, muttering a good girl that has you whining. The vibrations around his cock make his hips buck, and now you’re gagging as his length hits the back of your throat. He holds you there instead of letting you off, and your nails are sharp against his thighs.

His head lolls back as he starts to move his hips under you, moving you in turn with your hair. He picks up the pace quickly, allowing saliva to drool from you and straight to his cock. 

Your eyes prick, big fat tears forming at the corners. But you’re enjoying this way too much, the moans and gasps he gives make you moan, pressing your thighs together for some kind of friction. 

He takes your jaw in his grasp, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. Your tongue sits out your mouth, him smacking the head of his dick on it. He notices your tears then, the mascara that’s running a little. He swipes at the corner of your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss into your forehead. 

Bringing you up to him, your dripping folds sliding across his length. His lips are on your cheeks, across your jaw, licking up your neck before reclaiming your plush lips once again. You continue grinding against one another, tongues slipping in and out of each other's mouths. Eventually Eren brings his hands to your hips, lifting you up as you hold his shaft up.

Your foreheads are pressed together as he slowly pushes inside you. The stretch is burning and all-consuming, eyes pricking up again as you feel him hit your furthest wall. Eren breathes out heavily, “So fucking tight”

You roll your hips, allowing some friction from him on your clit. It helps your muscles relax a little, and balancing your hands on his shoulders you push yourself up and down, using his length for your own pleasure. Eren’s eyes don’t leave your form, watching your breasts bounce and how your eyes flutter close as he fills you entirely.

“You really did want to be fucked, huh? Look at you” he teases you, watching as you go to talk back before he thrusts his hips up. It leaves the words caught in your throat.

His pace maintains, holding you in place as he fucks up into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. There are long moments where you hold your breath, holding his cock tight within you. Then you’ll release and moan, before holding it in again. Well, Eren is all too happy to help you with that. 

One hand grabbing the flesh of your hip, the other wrapping around your throat, he pushes into you at a punishing rate. Your eyes go wide at the sudden restriction of your throat, feeling the cold metal of his ring against your pulse. 

“Who knew this about you? That you were such a slut?”

As much as he knows you want to deny it, you want to smack the smugness from his voice, he can feel your pussy tighten around him. He sees your eyes roll back a little. 

“You’re getting tighter.” 

The hand on your hip moves down, attempting to hold you in place whilst letting his thumb press over your clit. The sounds of him slapping against your wetness is obscene, and he’s only distracted from it as you whimper out pathetic yes’s and please’s. 

“You wanna cum?” he’s grunting, trying to keep the pace going until you can reach your peak.

You nod against his wide hand, still tight around your neck. “Oh you can do better than that. I already know how bad you want it, slut.”

“Please Eren, please make me cum. I want to cum, please, please, please” you can barely make out the words, your head going light and body tightening.

“Cum for me.” 

You release, and as he can feel the fluttering of your walls around him, he lets go of your throat. The sudden oxygen as you cum leaves you overwhelmed. Burying yourself in his shoulder, he fucks you through it. Cock slapping up into your cunt over and over, somehow being sucked deeper in as you coat his length with more of your own slick. He can feel your nails breaking the flesh of his back as you’re holding on for dear life, moaning his name and even a fucking thank you into his ear.

As you begin to slow, legs shake as you stay straddled over him. He flips you, Eren now firmly on top, slowly moving in and out of you. The stimulation is intense, your cunt sparking at any sensation. 

Caged between his forearms, his hair is a mess thanks to you. You push tendrils back past his ears as he leans down to kiss you once again. This kiss is different. It feels… less desperate. It feels deep and meaningful, caring even.

Your eyes meet in acknowledgment, both of you too worried to speak about the shift in tone. 

He reaches down instead, pulling your leg up and splitting you on his cock. A tongue swipes at your nipple, biting and playing with each as he gradually picks up pace again. You’re still so fucking wet it’s easy for him to thrust into you at a dizzying pace. You can feel all of him against your gummy walls. Each time he passes that special spot inside you, you moan and gasp, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

His thrusts were becoming more primal, holding your thighs close around his hips. Letting your sweaty bodies collide again and again, his balls slapping against you. The grunts and moans coming from his lips were so infuriatingly erotic. Eren just wanted one more from you, and then he’d let himself finish. If this was to be a drunken mistake, so be it, but he would at least make it memorable. 

Those jade eyes were on you once again, the power and dominance radiating from the immeasurable. He can see you barely being able to hold on, completely fucked out beneath him. You’re moaning and whining, hands moving over the swell of your breasts and playing with your nipples as if it’s going to keep you grounded. 

He sits up, eyes flicking down to where you were conjoined. It took so much restraint not to cum inside you right then and there. Your glistening sex was so tight around him, the wet slapping noises echo again and again. You’re pulling and sucking him in, cream pooling around his length. 

“Give me one more, y/n. I want to feel you cum on my cock.”  

You try to look up at him through heavy lids. Your friend Eren saying this is so taboo. The words he’s said tonight so far from normal for the both of you. You flutter around him, somehow your pussy still wants to be fucked, still wants to push you off the edge one more time. You can feel the coil inside your stomach tightening. 

Eyes rolling back, you can barely keep it together anymore. He’s pounding into you at a startling rate, fingers flicking over your clit again and again and again. 

“P - please, it’s s-so good.” 

Your breaths between words were quick, “you’re so big-”

“Yeah you like that? You like being so full of my cock? Such a pretty face you make when you’re all fucked out.” 

Holy shit.

Eren could tell how much words affected you, your back arching and legs pulling him somehow closer into you.

“Come on, baby. I wanna hear those moans.” he’s grunting, getting so fucking close to losing himself in your cunt. He knows what he wants to hear most though, “say my name. Tell me who’s treating you how you should be”

With that, you’re losing yourself around him again. Writing on the bed, gripping sheets in tightly balled fists. White light taking over your sight as you clench around Eren. This orgasm was the most intense, taking your body by surprise in its overstimulated state. You weren’t even making a noise, just holding on to the high for as long as possible. 

And then you shattered, whining and moaning, whispering his name over and over again. 

As you moved underneath him, Eren kept his punishing pace up until he watched you expel the last of your energy. Name forming on your lips over and over again he falters, releasing inside you. You can feel the stickiness inside you, the sensation of being filled up. Eren watches for a moment as he sees the white pearls forming around your stretched out pussy.

His chest is back on yours as he kisses your neck, shoulders, whatever skin he can. Thrusting back into you a couple of times, he finally pulls out. You feel his cum dripping out of you, but you’re too spent to do anything about it.

Eren lies next to you, both of your bodies attempting to regulate from that. 

“You okay?” 

He’s checking in, making sure he didn’t go too far with someone he genuinely cares for. 

You nod, turning to meet his stare. Giving him a drowsy smile, you’re not sure what comes next. But for now, you’re happy. Curling into his side, he puts an arm round you and lets you rest for a while. As he notices your breathing become deeper, he nestles into you, muttering something about clean up. 

Moving away from you, you can make out some noises of a tap, drawers opening and closing. In your sleepy state you feel him gently wiping at you, two glasses of water being put on the bedside table. Finally he makes his way back to you, and Eren notes how cute you look. Hot and completely fucked out, yes. But also gentle and at peace, allowing the heaviness of sleep taking over.

He rests behind you, wanting to be back in your warmth. He pulls you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. The fragrance of you takes over his nostrils, and he’s all too eager to move closer to your hair, pressing one last kiss at the nape of your neck. Whatever tomorrow brings, he hopes it’s not the last time he gets to be this close to you.

[intangibly-here]

it’s a fact (that i want you in my life)

various (diluc, kaeya, xiao, zhongli)

- scenarios; 6.8k words - gn!reader - fluff & angst - hurt/comfort - warning: description of injuries/blood, mild cursing

————————————————————

is it really so hard to be understood?

[argument & reconciliation scenarios]

title from mckay, jeff bernat - angel 2 me.

requested by @nanana-kashi

————————————————————

❥ diluc

it’s a chilly evening, as always. 

you trod down the dusty path, steps kicking up clouds of dirt and sending pebbles skidding as you walk. the dim glow of street lamps illuminate the edges of your figure, passing under them on your stroll returning home. you take carefully measured steps past the countless rows of grapevines, past the stone walls of the building’s perimeter, and arrive at the polished front doors. 

the dawn winery is quiet in the evening, only the chirping of crickets filling the silence, whereas servants would fill the air with talk and work during the day. fishing out a key from your pocket, you unlock the door with a click. 

all that meets you when you enter is more silence. empty again.

diluc has always been a busy man. he’s a hard worker, as are all of the people that surround the two of you are, and he carries the heavy weight of an entire legacy on his shoulders. recently, however, he’s been especially illusive, managing the angel’s share during waking hours and working undercover as the “darknight hero” so to speak throughout the evenings. 

while it’s not out of the ordinary for diluc to work nights on end, it is unusual that you haven’t caught a glimpse of him at all, between visiting the angel’s share during his usual shift or roaming the paved streets of mondstadt. even asking charles himself remained fruitless. 

“my sincerest apologies, but i haven’t seen him. i’d thought he was with you.”

it’s even more unusual that he hadn’t told you a word of what he’s been up to. were you that untrustworthy?

you close the door with a resigned sigh, removing the bow that’s been strapped to your back and resting it against the wall across from the entrance. your pull your gloves off, the mahogany leather of it reminding you of ruby eyes and stiff clothing. they drop into a box rested on a nearby shelf. the unsettling silence closes in around you, and for a moment, you breathe in a strikingly painful loneliness. it fills your chest uncomfortably, like it’s carving out a hollow space in-between your ribs, gnawing at your heart. then, you breathe out, and the discomfort dissipates. no, he trusts you. you know you both do.

even so, something shifts wrong inside you without diluc here. 

you’re not sure how to feel about it.  

you minutely fiddle with your ring, cool silver pressed against warm skin, finger tracing the simple engravings carved into it with care. it’d been your request for something subtle, away from the flashiness of blinging jewels and rare stones. 

he’ll be back soon. 

you say this, turn the words over and over in your head just as you turn the ring on your finger, but you know better than that. you had truly believed it the first day, but then the first day bled into a second, a third day into a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh—

and now you stand here on the eighth day by the arching doors, inside the enormous mansion, cold and disappointed and alone. 

you shake your head, chastising yourself internally. it’s no use worrying yourself down over it. dropping the rest of your belongings in a pile by the foot of the bed, you scratch the back of your head and turn to the bathroom. best to run yourself a shower and get to bed quickly. the whirring of crickets and fireflies keep you company ‘till the sound of splashing water erases the quiet. 

you’re toweling your hair off, foggy wisps of steam trailing behind you as you leave the bathroom, when you hear the resounding click of the front door. 

diluc?

leaving the towel hanging around your neck, you walk to the entrance room where the man you’ve been waiting for stands upright, glancing at you when you enter. it only lingers for a second, before darting back to his own hands.

“welcome home.”

“thanks.”

the clock ticks in the heavy silence. 

“not going to say anything?”

he lifts his head up to face you properly for the first time in a week, confused. fiery red hair shuffles with his movements, and he releases it from the confines of his hairtie. “what is there to say?”

you take a deep breath, shoulders rising, then falling again. you fiddle with your ring again. “we haven’t seen each other for days, and there’s nothing you want to say?”

“...” he purses his lips. 

“i’ve been looking for you.”

diluc looks away. “..i’ve been busy.”

your stare turns frostier by the second, the beginnings of a bonfire starting inside you. oh really now? just an ‘i’ve been busy’? “busy enough that you couldn’t spare even a second to let me know that you were doing okay?”

he bristles at your chilly tone, hackles rising, and body turning sharply away, apparently preoccupied with hanging his coat up. “i don’t need you to fret over me like— like this.” 

the words have you suddenly losing all your temper, leaving behind only the dredges of a deep-seated sorrow.

“am i not allowed to worry about my husband?”

his untold frustration seems to only grow at the dimming fire flickering out in your eyes, and his eyes narrow. still, he stays silent, a brooding look on his face. it wars with the thinning desperation you unconsciously let yourself show tonight. 

“ —even if you won’t tell me what you’re up to, why won’t you see me at all?”

the loosening hold on your emotions is gripped tight once more at the deafening silence not unalike how it were even without him. your face is drawn neutral once more, and you turn to make your way back to bed. 

“..alright, diluc. goodnight then.”

seems like tonight was a lost cause as well. you trail through the hallways, pausing before the door to the study. you enter against your better judgement, something pulling at you to not do this— but really, did you have to listen to that voice? something curls inside you, hurt and tired. that voice never helped with anything anyway. diluc’s still drifting, far, farther away from you and you’re still alone. 

(you know your emotions are getting the better of you, but you just can’t help it. how are you supposed to handle something you’d never dealt with before?)

standing before a relatively smaller bookcase, you reach up to pull out a book rather carelessly—

diluc opens the door, a regretful nervousness on his face and brow furrowed, to see the heavy wooden shelf tumble onto you. his eyes widen, and he lunges forward. 

thud.

- 

you blearily blink your eyes open a couple times to dim spots floating across your vision. two distinct voices murmur somewhere in the vicinity of the room. last you remember, you’d left diluc at the front door... and went to pick out a book for the study.. and oh.

so you’re recovering now, you’d assume. 

you trace the bandages on your head with sublime caution. the door clicks shut, bringing you out of your thoughts, and you tilt your head on the pillow. red. it’s diluc. he’s in his casual attire, plain white top and black slacks, but is still so stunning. maybe even more so than his regular clothing. 

diluc whips where he was staring at the door towards you, eyes wide and hand flying to his face. it’s flushed a brilliant crimson pink. 

oops. 

snapping out of his daze, diluc rushes to your side and kneels by the bedside. your mouth opens to protest his actions, then pauses, and closes again. it’s about time you receive an explanation. you two are past unnecessarily polite formalities. he grasps your hands in his calloused ones like a lifeline. 

“i’m so, so sorry, my love.” he stumbles over his words, almost like he’s choking them up from the bottom of his heart. maybe he is. “i didn’t want to get you caught up in the— the incompetence of the knights, and all the troubles that come with cleaning up after them.”

he glances away at the floor, gazing somewhere you can’t reach him. 

“...all it brings is sorrow.”

he takes a shaky breath, and his eyes glisten from underneath his mussed bangs. his hands tremble in yours, and your eyes soften. you run a hand through his hair in a silent gesture. continue when you’re ready. it’s alright. 

“a-and so i didn’t tell you, didn’t go to find you. there was a really— really unexpected gathering of abyss mages, and i didn’t want you to get involved. but you’re right— i shouldn’t need to hide it or avoid you because of it. i’m—” 

he chokes back a sob, wiping furiously at his eyes, and for a moment, it reminds you of how he was before everything happened. how bright he was. how open. but it’s of no importance any longer, and you brush the stray thoughts aside. mature or not, cheery or not, he is still diluc. he is still the man you love. 

“it’s okay, love. it’s okay.” you shush his sobbing gently, cupping his face in the palm of your hands. “i forgive you. i always will.”

you nudge him up from the floor and into downy bedsheets, nestling him in front of you. encircled in your embrace, diluc huddles closer to you, sniffling all the while. 

“when the bookcase fell on you, i was so scared. i— i thought you’d...” 

he trails off, face buried in the crook of your neck. you can feel him pressing his cheek into it, nuzzling closer. you lean your head against his in a comforting manner, i’m here love, and the heavy conversation peters into a soothing silence. you both move in tandem with your breathing, intertwined and floating in the newfound peace. 

“..’m love you...” 

but a whisper in the (welcomed, for once) silence, diluc drags out the mumbled syllables childishly, probably embarrassed from the entire ordeal. you press a warm kiss to the top of his head and smile for once, affectionately, softly, sweetly—  

“love you too, diluc.”

❥ kaeya

sometimes, just sometimes, the personality of kaeya alberich, mister cavalry captain of the knights of favonius, gets on your nerves.

kaeya is sly and sweet-talking, words sharp and lined with double meanings left and right. even at night, tucked into each other and settling into the quiet of drowsiness, teasing words will slip out of his lips and leave you either furiously blushing, firing back at him, or cracking up in full blown laughter— most of the time.

his joking manner is what drew you to him, the way he’s the spark in the room and how he brightens up your life with every passing moment.

it is also what is pushing you away now.

you know you’re being stupid. his joking and teasing is just one of the many parts of the man you fell in love with, inseparable and intertwined. it’s just kaeya being— well, kaeya. and it’s a wonderful part of him that you’d never want him to give up on.

the thought itself doesn’t exactly help when you’re spiraling into a pit of unwanted emotions.

lately, you’ve been heading home late, exhausted and worn out from putting everything into your job during the day. you hadn’t anticipated the rain to come down so hard and in turn didn’t bring an umbrella, resulting in absolutely waterlogged clothes and soggy shoes as you neared the pathway up to your home. today, you’d just like a little soft peace and quiet.

the thought stings like a sharp slap to the face when you open the door to kaeya’s unusually boisterous laughter (usually it’s less... annoying than this...), the room smelling thickly of wine. you can hear the clink of glass against glass from where you’re standing in the doorway.

whenever kaeya happens to consume alcohol, he becomes rowdier than ever; this incident is no exception. you shake your head and sigh. apparently kaeya is sober enough to notice you, because he looks over at you and grins in a telltale sign of mischief.

(not sober enough to recognize your breaking point it seems.)

“kept me waiting long enough, sweetheart! look at poor lil’ lonely me, sitting here with only this wine to keep me company.” he shakes the bottle in his hand, pouring another glass, taking another sip. “don’t you think i deserve a little something? maybe—”

the rest of his words are drowned out in the buzz of your mind, piling on your strained emotions. it’s so much. too much. (it’s unreasonable, you know you know you know, but you can’t stop, won’t stop, it won’t stop—)

does he not see you?

the words fly out of your mouth before you can reign in your haywire thoughts—

“would you just shut up? asshole...”

—anddd you didn’t mean to say that.

the rainwater drips from your clothes and pools onto the floor in a miserable puddle. the shocked look on his face and the thump of the wine botte falling to the floor says enough to send you turning on your heels back into the pouring rain. the door slams shut behind you almost achingly as you run wherever your feet will take you.

stupid stupid stupid! why did you say that! your head throbs in a mixture of hurt, guilt, and confusion. you stumble on rain-sodden ground and stray pebbles as your feet rapidly grow sore, unable to keep up with you anymore. 

your legs give up from under you, and you collapse to the ground, face buried in your hands. even if you were tired, you shouldn’t have just shouted at him like that — he didn’t even know what you were upset over! you didn’t tell him!

picking the pieces of your thoughts back together as the adrenaline wears off, you unsteadily rise to your feet once more, knees shaky and weak. it’s as you’re preparing the walk home from who knows where you ran to, you hear a loud grunt from the vicinity behind you. 

oh no.

just as you feared, when you turn around you’re greeted face-to-face by a shield-bearing mitachurl that’s likely strayed from its camp. its shadow looms in front of you, crawling forward as it slowly makes its way to you. you scramble for your sword, fingers digging at the buckles of your belt, then realize you had left it hanging on the sword rack at home. 

(kaeya...)

the stomping grows closer, like an ominous sign, and you curse under your breath. as much as you’d like to believe you can survive this relatively unharmed, your wobbling legs and unarmed hands say otherwise.

without another moment to spare, the mitachurl dashes forward, swinging its shield as if it were weightless. you put all your effort into dodging its sweeping blows, the embedded stones whistling by your face as you scan the area in another attempt to run—

as you turn your head, the mitachurl charges in from your blindspot, slamming straight into the side of your head. 

fuck. 

the impact sends you falling backwards in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs and stinging scratches. the throbbing at your temple doubles over, and when you tentatively reach up to touch it, you feel it’s sickeningly sticky. blood. a lot of it. 

black spots swim across your vision, and hazily, you think you hear a voice call your name in the distance. whatever it was, it’s soon drowned out by the sound of the creature stomping towards you impendingly. 

hallucinating already? you bark out a hysterical laugh in spite of it all, then hunch over in a fit of hacking coughs. red streaks across the dry grass. it burns. you rub at your throat. any further efforts would be futile. you know a hopeless situation when you see one— or in this case, are in one. 

thump.

another bruise blooms on your leg, and you wince. closing your eyes, your fuzzy conscious awaits its silence. there’s a swoosh, the raising of the mitachurl’s shield, and you brace your body for the impact—

“love, you— what— i—“

something, someone, lifts you up, up, up. and you’re drifting, carried in gentle arms and smooth fabric. the air grows heavier, the whistling of finely honed swordsmanship hanging in the wind, and the thundering steps draw to an abrupt stop. a familiar voice trickles into your ears, but your mind is sinking sinking...

(it trembles.)

on the edge of your sopor, just before you fall into its depths, you feel a clammy hand clutch yours. it’s warm. 

mind empty, the bone-deep exhaustion swallows you, vision fading to black. 

-

you awaken to soft white sheets and bandages looped round your arms. your muscles scream at you when you try to rise, flames of pain crawling up your torso and singing your nerves. a grimace paints itself across your face, and you slump back against the pillows. what had happened again...?

the lock clicks, door swinging open, and you turn your head to face it. kaeya steps in, a tray in hand as he closes the door with a twist of his hand. when he raises his head, his eye widens, and you can see the faint bags under it, red rimmed at the edge. you purse your lips, heart panging in your chest. 

neither of you speak when he shuffles to the bedside, setting the tray down on the nightstand and picking up a stray pillow that had fallen to the ground. it must’ve been when you’d just woken up; you hadn’t noticed. he tucks in back into its spot behind your back, propping it to help you sit a bit more upright. he doesn’t retrieve his hands from where they rest on top of yours. 

you start, “kaeya, i’m so—”

he doesn’t let you continue, pressing a finger to your lips. 

“sweetheart, i should be the one saying that.” he ruffles your hair endearingly, expression both relieved and pained at the same time. “i was drunk and just let you run out there—” he pauses. “i pushed it too far.”

you can feel the start of tears welling at the corners of your eyes, hands trembling and teeth wearing at your bottom lip. “...i still should’ve spoken up. you wouldn’t have known otherwise.”

he smiles warmly, genuinely, the cheerful glint in his eye sparkling at you through glossy eyes. “then next time, speak up, alright darling? we both can learn from this.” you nod, and he cups your face, thumbing the rims of your eyes and the side of your cheeks where rivulets of tears paint transparent rivers.

“may i kiss you?”

there’s a lot more to unpack to your actions, both your physical injuries and mending the worn strings of your minds, but for now—

you nod wordlessly once more and lean in, meeting him in a soft, sweet kiss. he wraps his arms around you in a familiar hug that you’ve sorely missed and pulls back, pressing more small, but equally as sweet kisses across your face. 

—for now, this is enough. 

❥ xiao

“you need to take better care of yourself!”

xiao rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in protest like a child. he sure is acting like one right now. why is it that he’s only like this when it comes to medicine? every time... you grimace at him, glaring threateningly and shaking the porcelain bottle in your hand. the round pills roll over each other, rattling in the container. 

“xiao...”

xiao just huffs and snarks back, turning his face away as if it’d do anything. 

“i’m doing fine. adepti don’t need medicine.”

it’s a weak argument, and he knows it. why is he fighting this so much? it’s just taking painkillers. no matter; it’s time to put in the finishing argument. 

“it’s from zhongli.”

the statement has him freezing in place, chewing his bottom lip nervously. of course it’s the mention of zhongli that has him finally seriously considering listening to you. petulant kid. can’t believe you’re really dating this thousand-year-old child. 

“i—”

he cuts himself off and goes silent for a beat, another argument on the tip of his tongue, but accepts the medicine in defeat anyway. you drop the little jar into his outstretched hand, and he pockets it in a flash. now if it were only that easy from the beginning...

“fine. but you have to stop nagging me so much.”

you can agree with that one. 

“alright, it’s a compromise.”

unconsciously, his mouth draws into a pout, and you chuckle, dipping down and kissing his cheek. his face shifts from awkward confusion to sudden realization, immediately stiffening up and stalking off in a mere shadow of his usual cool. 

if you spy the pink flushed tips of his ears and the prominent blush on his cheeks as he leaps off the balcony, you keep it to yourself. 

-

so much for taking care of yourself.

“and you were saying?” 

the door slides open, frame rattling as the illustrations of one panel swallows the other. xiao in all his midget glory strides in, footsteps careful as he closes the door behind him. a tray is balanced in one hand as he does it, somehow steadier than you’ve ever actually held a tray before. even with two hands. is this an adeptus thing too? expert, perfect, unbelievably infallible tray holding? you can tell from the expression on his face as he makes his way over that something’s tipping him off. he’s definitely grimacing, like he would when you said something unbearably stupid— in his terms of course. not yours. 

is he a mind reader too? wasn’t that only a rex lapis thing? like with the prayers?

“you look like shit.”

even worse than earlier goes unsaid. his face is typical frosty-xiao, but his brows are furrowed and disbelief shines in his eyes. guess it wasn’t your thoughts after all. but actually, did you really look that bad?

“yes, it’s that bad. now sit up so you can eat.”

whoops. 

holding yourself from making any snide comebacks, you move to touch your cheek as you sit up, a little shocked when it actually makes contact with the back of your hand; it feels as though your face was set in front of an open fireplace. a damp towel drops off your forehead, plopping on the blankets. it’s lukewarm. huh, didn’t notice that before. 

removing the used towel, xiao sets the tray down on your lap meticulously. now closer, you can see the plates of cold noodles and steaming bowls of jewelry soup sitting on the wooden tray. the smell is incredibly appetizing, as expected of smiley yanxiao, and you take care in preparing to eat the sumptuous meal. 

“aw, thanks xiao.” 

he turns his head away habitually, too shy to meet your eyes. you can, however, see his fingers subconsciously fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. the sun takes that moment to peek out of the clouds and through the window, outlining the contours of xiao’s face and soften his sharp features. it makes him look almost luminescent, like an angel descended from the skies, and you’re drowning in his being. he’s stunning. 

feeling your stare, xiao whips his head back around, narrowing his eyes and nearly growling. like a cat, your mind supplies. your cat. 

(and then you laugh at your thoughts, because xiao isn’t anyone’s. you just happen to be by his side for as long as wants you here.

and yours, him.)

“don’t stare,” he hisses, and then you can’t hold your laughter any longer, hacking out laughter at his defensive demeanor. “you- !”

he hastily picks up the pair of chopsticks on the tray, taking a mouthful of mushroom-topped noodles between them and stuffing it into your mouth. you immediately cease your chortling to chew, else you shove yourself into a choking fit. 

floating bits of dust fade in and out of the sunbeams falling on the floorboards, as if playing peekaboo with the air. the noodles are perfectly seasoned, mixed with just the right amount of sesame and savory sauce to not be bland, but not taste overpowering. they’re light and easy to swallow, and xiao hands you a cup of tea as you finish your bite; his fingers brush against yours, soft and warm. you sniffle. your runny nose hinders your senses, but you can still smell the faint scent of qingxin blossoms, and a relaxed smile makes it’s way to your face as you take a sip. 

this is nice.

❥ zhongli

you’d first seen morax in the midst of a fierce battle. 

jueyun karst was as empty as always, save for the presence of several adepti crouching in the shadows, more than the darkness would usually hide. then, as you sat high in the branches of one of the many golden trees in the valley, feet swinging over spikes of climbing amber protruding from the ground, you sensed a change in the atmosphere. the wind whistling through the treetops and over your head shifted sharply, soft gusts transforming into howling gales that had you falling backwards. 

cursing under your breath, you gripped the branch tightly, face scrunched in a grimace. by the time the turbulent winds had stopped, your hair blown astray in a hilarious mess and your back rebalanced against the trunk of the tree, a squirming, inky mass of something had appeared, hovering in the air just above the ground. it steadily grew in both physical size and energy, the air humming and pulsing with it’s indiscernible movements, until it towered at the height of the larger trees, far larger than any human could. 

you could feel the surrounding adepti grow increasingly concerned, their energy fluctuating wildly, but they showed no signs of movement. why? shouldn’t they be neutralizing this threat? your feet pick up their movement again from where they’d stilled during the storm, swinging back and forth. forwards. the lump of dark energy steps towards the harbor. backwards. another step. forwards. it pauses in its steps, unfurling its wings. back-

thump. 

so that would be why they hadn’t moved. almost as if heaving a sigh of relief, the chaotic energy of the adepti lurking nearby immediately deflate, retreating back into a neutral state. oh hoh, a big shot? when a gold-pattern embellished white robe emerges from a tear in empty space, you nearly topple over from your spot in the tree. bingo. 

the storm clouds in the sky poured as they fought, the sound of pattering raindrops both filling your ears and serving as a backdrop to the clashing of metal and vicious growls. as you watched him fight, the prime adeptus rex lapis, lithe form crossing blows with the distorted form of an abyssal beast, you knew from somewhere deep in your soul that something was bound to change. 

(it was when you were leaping down from the tree to leave, silently thanking him with a glance in his direction, that your gazes interlocked. morax made for an awfully odd sight when he had both a curious spark gleaming in his eyes and a dissolving corpse at his feet. and well, if it got even odder when he invited you to tea, that would be his problem, not yours— even if you had accepted the offer.) 

soon after, in the days following that first “meeting”, you’d seen zhongli (as he preferred to be called) in town, lingering indecisively around various stalls both big and small. noticing his dilemma, as a good friend (if you could be considered that; you’d only watched him slaughter a demonic monster and talked over tea once after all) you walked over and helped him out. 

multiple tea outings, three bags of mora and several weeks later, zhongli is looking into your eyes— and wow, this is really reminding you of your first meeting, where he was beating the shit out of that thing while you all just sat around and waited for him to be done and— he’s getting closer? please say this is going where you hope it’s going—

evidently you win this time, because zhongli moves forward and presses his (soft, soft, soft—) lips to yours in a breathtakingly warm kiss. 

he tastes faintly like the sweet syrup of the almond tofu you’d shared earlier, and the moment he draws his head back to allow you a breath, you pull him back in for another. 

-

your shoes step soundly against polished flooring as you enter the doorway of liuli pavilion, soft chatter drifting between the rhythmic click-clacking of your stride. the waitress greets you politely as you walk in, taking a glance at the clipboard she’s holding, then gesturing for you to follow her. 

“based on your attire and the time, you must be the one mister zhongli is waiting for, no?” 

to the assenting dip of your head she gives her own in return, leading you through the back doors and to a secluded table out in the open. settled by the railing overlooking the harbor is zhongli, pristine as always, sipping a steaming cup of tea. 

he doesn't notice you at first, attention trained on the book lain out on the table, but then you're sliding into your seat with a quiet thank you to the waitress, chair audibly scraping against the pavement, and he looks up. remarkably deep amber eyes meet yours, but then again, you’re not meeting a random passerby now, are you? 

(you’re not wooing just anyone.)

or at least, that’s what you’d thought. however, by the time he’s mentioned guizhong for the— what, 5th time tonight? you can’t say you’re completely unfazed. guizhong was his partner in war, best friend, closest companion; of course he would talk about her. it’s only natural now that you’re getting to know each other more. 

yeah. natural. 

you rest your head on the palm of your hand, leaning forward onto the table. the glass of wine in your other sloshes against its confines. your eyes follow it as the liquid tips and turns over itself, deep mahogany flowing into semi-opaque purples and vibrant reds. 

guizhong. she’s an inarguably important part of his very, very long past. you understand this— but really, did he have to talk about her regarding every single thing? it’s as if— as if you were just— just there. you’re missing something. there’s a label for this feeling, you know there is, but it’s only escaping your mind the more you think about it. just what is it...?

“the leaves of this tea have been harvested from wild glaze lilies themselves, then additionally infused with the purified essence of glaze lily blossoms. countless meticulous steps and tremendous efforts must have been taken to execute this brew as splendidly as it was. it is most definitely an exquisite tea befitting of guizhong’s legacy.”

zhongli pauses, then sighs wistfully, a reminiscent expression painted on his face. 

“an... unfortunate end she had. time never stops, neither for gods nor mortals alike.” 

ah, yes. irreversible, unalterable, set in stone. you’ve heard these words so many times over, no matter how eloquently they’d been reshaped and rephrased. no matter how different they’d sounded every time. no matter how much you wished you could stop overthinking it. 

looking less like a new romantic interest and more like a replacement, you chuckle inwardly to yourself as zhongli stares out over the harbor, a new mortal friend to chat with. the thought hits a little too close to home, and oh that was the word you were looking for. 

you are just a replacement. 

how could you not be? you see how zhongli looks when he talks about her. though he doesn’t say it outright, you know he loved her.

still loves her. 

and so, who— no, what are you but just another someone? 

and here you were thinking you were someone special. of course you just had to stick your nose somewhere it didn’t belong. 

you’d really thought you could keep your head cool in all situations; no, before all this you really had—  but suddenly when emotions and love are involved, everything spirals out of your control. vile thoughts crawl up from the depths of your soul, clawing at your rationality and eating away at your want want want. 

and so when zhongli turns to look into your eyes again, mixed emotions rise in your heart like bile would up your throat. the wine you’d been drinking all night loosens your tongue, and the words are slipping out of your mouth before you can take them back. 

“are you really going to talk about her all night?“

fuck.

zhongli frowns for a fraction of a second, his head tilting to the side in contemplation, then parts his lips and replies:

“is there a problem with it?”

his answer makes you want to throw your head back in hysterical laughter. his energy is completely placid, which actually might make it even worse. he’s genuinely asking. genuinely fucking asking. here your head is, overrun with thoughts left and right, mind fraying at the seams, and that’s what he’s asking? is there a problem? your hand clenches and unclenches, nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. he has to be joking. 

a waiter arrives to change and refill the empty pot of tea, but immediately stiffens at the silent atmosphere. once the new tea leaves have been added and begun to steep, he immediately hightails it out of there, nearly slipping in his haste.

clink. 

you set your wine glass on the tabletop. need to sober up after that one. zhongli still looks faintly puzzled, but allows you to do as you wish, and you both watch as steam floats up from the spout of the teapot. pouring a cup of glaze lily tea, your mind taunts, you take a sip to clear your head. 

huh. that’s odd.

you pull the porcelain rim away from your mouth, tilting the cup to stare at its contents. nothing is out of the ordinary, and the tea smells as fragrant as ever, but there’s a particular... sweetness to it? if it were any more bitter you wouldn’t have payed it attention, but the brew shouldn’t be.. sweet?

“zhongli, did you add anything to the tea?”

the bewilderment on his face only grows. 

“i don’t believe so? nothing other than the tea itself should be present...”

the corner of your mouth quirks down, eyes still inspecting the tea dredges in the cup. then why was the tea... was it really just your taste buds? a foreboding feeling sends shivers down your spine, and it’s building building building—

zhongli’s eyes suddenly widen, and he startles back from the table like a frightened colt. his head whips to the side, spear immediately appearing in his hand, and he draws his shoulder back at a speed you hadn’t seen before. the tip slices through air and hits its mark instantaneously, pinning the waiter from earlier to the wall he was lurking behind. zhongli rises from his seat, the tips of his hair glowing amber, and promptly knocks the man out with a blow to his neck. the waiter lets out a choked sound, then slumps unconscious. a crumpled piece of paper falls from his pocket. 

instructions. zhongli understands what’s happened the moment he picks up the piece of parchment. most likely sent because of the swindling incident yesterday. a desperate last-resort attempt at ridding the millelith of a witness. 

dexterous fingers begin to unfold the note. 

but why implement such an unskilled assassin? they barely had any killing intent whatsoever, else they would have been noticed sooner. there are no weapons other than this dagger on them either... his eyes swiftly scan the contents of the note, and all at once, everything falls into place.

the tea. he should’ve realized it sooner. 

the clatter of rattling dishes sounds from behind him, and he spins on his heels, staring wide-eyed—

red red red stains your hand and drips through your fingers, spilling out of your mouth and splattering the ground. red. your throat makes a garbled noise, not unalike the one made by the waiter just moments before, and your eyes dilate out of focus, rapidly glazing over. red.

you collapse in your chair, and all he can see is red. 

picking you up carefully in his arms, he closes his eyes (from the red red—) and teleports to the pharmacy. 

a single plead hangs in the air. 

- 

you jolt awake, hand flying to your mouth and chest heaving anxiously. you can still taste the metallic tang of blood. your blood. 

then, as you’re trembling from what could have been a brush with death, firm arms wrap themselves around you, tucking you securely into a warm chest. 

“shh... it’s okay. it’s okay.”

a low voice murmurs reassurances to you, cradling you in safety and tranquility. zhongli runs his hand through your hair soothingly, bringing you down from the frantic state you’d awoke to, and now you can recognize where you are. zhongli’s living room. you’re settled on his lap, gathered in his hold, and you can feel his steady breathing against you, a stark contrast to your own labored breaths. it’s when he’s sensed that you’ve regained rationality that he begins to explain. 

“you were out for a few hours and collapsed due to the poisoning that was originally intended for my consumption. i sincerely apologize for that. it was an unfortunate mishap.”

his voice is smooth and saccharine sweet as he talks, a deep rumble that you can feel as you lay your face on his chest. he takes it on himself to explain a little further of what happened while you were unconscious, which you are grateful for so you can sort your... thoughts out, from before the interruption.

(while he brushes over the matter of carrying you in his arms rather perfunctorily, it still lights a warm flame in your heart. you want this to work out. desperately.)

when his narration peters out to a natural quiet, the muffled hum of early morning workers bustling about outside, you ask the question that’s been on your mind since the very beginning of your outing. 

“is this,” you gesture to him, to you, to the comfort, the hugs, the love, “because of guizhong too?”

understanding finally washes over zhongli’s face in subtle waves, and he gives the most mesmerizingly fond smile to your doubting question. a rich chuckle bubbles up from his chest, the endearing tinge to it only pushing your slight confusion forward. 

“ah, so this is what your previous question was mentioning.”

his eyes soften, the smudge of red under them only making the gold of his irises bloom even further. the hazy look in his eyes makes you feel like he’s drifting. you can recognize that well enough.

(drifting away from you, a faint bite of a bitter voice whispers.)

“yes, i did love guizhong. she’d departed from this land all too soon for me to convey it, and it is one of the few things i still regret to this day.”

the words spark a pang in your chest, the sharp, tingling-sour kind that reminds you of unripe sunsettias and overly spiced mint, but you take a deep breath and it fades. you should hear him out. you need to. you want to.

“i retold my memories with her to you because they were... my happiest memories. they were all i had to speak of, other than the redundant miscellaneous knowledge i’ve retained over the years. i’d thought you’d rather hear of happy experiences rather than the long tangents i can run myself off of. i’ve been properly chastised by this incident nevertheless.”

he gently tilts your head up from where it’s buried in the front of his silk shirt, wiping away the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. you sniffle and wait for him to finish speaking, chest already lightening. 

“however, remember this— while i did love guizhong, you are not a mere semblance of her for me to retain by my side.”

he calls your name softly, reverently.

“my love, you are not a replacement. the one i’m in love with now is you.”

relief, warmth, and love love love surges in your chest altogether as he smiles gingerly, and you cup his face with your own hands, feeling the heat of his flushed cheeks against your palms. 

his lips are plush, soft against your own chapped ones as you draw him into a kiss spelling all the things you couldn’t say out loud. that you were frustrated at the thought of being a rebound for him. that you were terrified at the thought of dying with regrets. that you were unimaginably relieved at his explanation. 

that you love him too. 

zhongli takes it all into stride, leading your hands to rest on his waist as his own cup the back of your head and nape of your neck. he kisses fully, wholeheartedly, lips moving tenderly against yours, giving back what you’re bringing forward to him, for him, in equal measure. it feels right. 

thank you, zhongli.