#fic: red life might stream again

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

red life might stream again

buck/eddie | buddie fantasy au | Chapter 14 of 14 | 158K | Read on AO3

The continent of Edrus is split into five countries, one for each species. Kyran belongs to the fae, Midrahi belongs to the humans, Vahlan belongs to the shapeshifters, Raelia belongs to the sari, and Dwerva belongs to the daemons. For centuries the five species have lived separately and somewhat peacefully. No one is allowed into a country that is not their home country, with the exception of members of the Order and traders chosen by each ruling government.

One tragic event brings together unlikely allies Eddie, fae soldier from Kyran, and Buck, human prince and future king of Midrahi. Together, along with their friends, they must uncover a dark secret about their world that has been hidden for too long, fight to keep one another alive, and work against an evil empire that has been hiding in the shadows ready to enslave any who don't bend to its will.

In the midst of crumbling kingdoms and dark masters, Eddie and Buck find something extraordinary together, but will they survive long enough to build something that lasts or will it all come crashing down around them?

(start at the beginning)

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Previous Chapter. Next Chapter. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

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[starlightsalvatore]

decisions, decisions / damon salvatore x reader

heyoooo ! new damon fic ! I don't know that this one will have a part two, but I loved the idea of it :) lmk what you think!

decisions, decisions / damon salvatore x reader

summary: the two times you discussed your apprehension to transitioning with Damon, and the one time you didn't get to.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: mentions of death, blood, violence, etc. typical tvdu stuff, no real reference as to when this takes place in canon

As you walked through the doors of the boarding house, flanked by both of the Salvatore’s, you thought of the night your parents had died and how you eerily felt the same way as you did then… your boots clicking against the wood floors could be heard by anyone, though it wasn’t quite reaching your ears, neither were the voices of Stefan and Damon as they led you into the kitchen and sat you on a bar stool. Logically, you knew exactly where you were, but really if someone asked you wouldn’t have an answer. The only thing you knew for certain in this moment was that your skin was itchy and your mind was racing, replaying the events of the past hour as it tried to sort and categorize what it had seen, what it had done.

“Should we… call someone?” Damon asked, and this you heard but your eyes remained locked in place, looking at something that wasn’t really there as you felt a hand on your shoulder and a glass pressed to your lips, thankfully your body had the instinct to go on autopilot and sip the water Stefan was forcing you to drink. 

“Who?” he shot back, and if these were different circumstances you would have laughed, said my dead parents? A crisis counselor? A therapist? Good luck explaining this one.

“Bonnie, Elena, Caroline?” Damon listed off and each name made you wince.

“I don’t think any of them will be much help right now,” Stefan answered. Good, at least someone is thinking clearly.

“I’m fine,” you finally said, voice hoarse as you spoke for the first time in over an hour, and both boys snapped their heads to look at you, varying levels of concern clear on their faces. “I just, uh…” you paused, looking down at your hands, blood caked underneath your fingernails, seeped into the fabric of your clothing, even down to your socks. “It’s a lot of-” your hands started to shake and Stefan was quick to grab them, steadying them as he pulled you up.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly, leading you up the stairs and into a bathroom where you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and had you had the capacity to process the sight before you, you again might have laughed… an inappropriate reaction to an inappropriate situation. Stefan left quietly, leaving you alone as you began stripping yourself of your now-ruined clothing, trying to ignore the way it clung to your skin before smearing the blood everywhere… as if it would have made a difference.

You didn’t even flinch when the door opened, unconcerned with the fact that you were standing in just your bra and underwear because it’s not like there was anything to really see beneath all the red and Damon’s eyes were apologetic as he sat a stack of clothes and several towels on the counter. “Sorry, just leaving these here for you,” he said and you gave him a dry smile.

“It’s fine, sure you’ve seen worse.” you replied.

“I’ll be just outside, shout if you need anything.” You nodded softly as the door shut once more, and you peeled off the remainder of your clothing before flicking the faucet on and stepping under the stream. The shower floor quickly became a violent red, bright and angry, as the water washed over you and it did nothing to quell the images flashing through your mind. You almost felt embarrassed by how shell shocked you were, it wasn’t like you hadn’t killed before… a rogue vampire, or a werewolf that one time, in the heat of battle amidst the chaos that was now your life but this was different.

This was a hunter, a human, someone new drawn to the horrors plaguing Mystic Falls that set a perfect trap for Stefan and Damon, leaving you in the crosshairs after a training session in the woods. The irony of you pinned to the ground with only a small knife to your name after an afternoon spent wielding weapon after weapon was not lost on you, and the real kicker was the stake driven through your abdomen… the only human staked with two vervained vampires laying a few feet away. Instinct and self-preservation had taken over, mixed with a little fear, and in all honesty you don’t know where your knife had landed, just that you’d fought with all your might until his body slumped against yours. You’d known it had to be you, if either of them had awoken they wouldn’t have hesitated, you had to be the one to do it.

You briefly thought of Carrie, how the pig’s blood poured over her and drenched her so completely… only this wasn’t a movie, you weren’t on a stage in a pink dress, and this was not pig’s blood. It was sticky and hot pouring over your face, dripping down your neck, seeping through your clothes… it was human. It wasn’t a vampire, or a werewolf, it was another human just like you. You’d seen the light burn out in his eyes, you’d felt the limpness in his form as you shoved him off, you’d felt every inch of the stake as you pulled it out with shaking hands, terror pumping through your veins as you realized if you died right here, you would not be dead.

It was something trivial, a knife slicing through your palm so deep you felt woozy, you remembered the laughter as Damon begrudgingly gave you his wrist and Elena’s comment… I think we need to establish a schedule, make sure you’re with a vampire at all times otherwise your clumsiness is going to be your doom. 

You scrubbed your scalp, nails raking across the skin as you desperately waited for the water to run clear. It felt like there wasn’t enough soap, enough water, enough patience. But eventually it did, what’s the saying… all bleeding must stop? Soon everything will pass. How long until this passed? You recognized Damon’s scent as you pulled on his clothes after drying off, wrapping you in a sense of comfort you found odd. It wouldn’t have been the case had it been Stefan’s, you always felt safe with him, trusted and valued… but Damon? You were friends, sure, by circumstance not choice, you never fully knew where you stood with him which left you on edge and unsettled in his company.

You opened the door to find him exactly where he said he would be, leaning against the wall opposite you, eyes glued to the floor until they snapped up, searching yours for the answer to a question he didn’t ask, a question he wasn’t really sure of in the first place. He let out a chuckle as he scanned you, settling on the sweatpants threatening to drop right off your frame, and he gently reached out to secure them tightly around your waist. “Better?” he asked and you nodded.

“Finally feel clean,” you answered, voice still scratchy and hollow, as he led you down the hallway to his bedroom where he pulled back the covers for you to settle in. You looked up at him with a look of confusion and amusement as he busied himself with tucking you in, truly fretting over you. “Who are you and what have you done with Damon Salvatore?”

“Ha ha,” he responded sarcastically. “Thought this would be more comfortable, the guest rooms are kind of creepy in my opinion.”

“If you say so,” you replied, a smirk clear on your face and he tried not to dwell too much on how reassuring it was to see you sinking back into your old self.

“Do you need anything? Water, food, Stefan?” he asked and you just shook your head, “okay, I’ll be down the hall… or you know where Stefan is, whoever you’re more comfortable with, if you need anything…” he said, rambling as he was overwhelmed by the emotional intimacy of tending to you, yet he still felt like he wasn’t really doing enough as he walked towards the door.

“Damon?” you called, and he was quick to turn around, eyes warm and curious as they settled on you. “Could you maybe… stay? If that’s not weird?” you asked, and he was sliding into the other side of the bed in an instant, careful to leave an appropriate distance to not spook you.

“I think we left weird back in the woods,” he answered and you let out a soft laugh. Silence permeated the space as you both tried to figure out what to say next, there were about a dozen thoughts on the tip of your tongue and only one question on Damon’s that he finally found the nerve to ask. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, I think so? He was going to kill all of us, I know I did the right thing, but… it’s just weird, I guess I was overly prepared for killing something supernatural, and underprepared for something human.” 

“You did do the right thing, and you saved one of us from the hunter’s curse… thank you for that, by the way,” he said, and you cracked a smile. “It was him or us and you chose right.”

“I almost died,” you nearly whispered, recalling the feeling of your blood rushing out of the wound in your abdomen, using all of your strength to crawl over to Stefan and Damon’s unconscious bodies. “I know it’s not the first time that’s happened, but it was the first time I felt it, the losing energy, feeling weak… when neither of you were waking up I was terrified I was going to die.” You recalled your panic, both of them out cold as your hands darted around the ground, sifting through dead leaves to try and find the knife you’d dropped to slice open Damon’s wrist to drink from.

“And you still had my blood in your system,” he finished, and you looked over to him a little shocked that he remembered, and that he already seemed to know that’s what was really bothering you. “You don’t want to turn?” he asked, genuinely curious. You’d always refrained from giving your two cents on the matter when it came up, and you were usually impossible to read.

“I don’t know,” you answered. “I’ve thought about it, not enough to figure out my stance on it. I don’t feel the same as Elena did, it was her worst nightmare… She wanted kids, and the picket fence, and sitting on the porch swing old and gray. I don’t want the same things, I don’t view vampirism as a hindrance to my goals or an unnecessary evil, but I also don’t know if I want to give up my human life.”

“You’ll stay here the next few days,” he responded and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Until it passes from your system. You deserve for it to be a choice, and I don’t want you out in the world where you could stumble into another person on the hunt for me… or with your luck, oncoming traffic.”

You let out a laugh, “thank you.” You settled into the blankets as a wave of exhaustion rolled over you, and you tilted your head slightly when you saw Damon lift an arm up for you, creating a space for you to lay against his chest. You exhaled in relief as he held you firmly, caging you in and wrapping you in a sense of protection.

“Get some rest, I’m not going anywhere.” he whispered, fingers drawing absentminded patterns against your skin as you already began fading into sleep. Nothing about the day had been predictable, but the most unexpected thing was this peaceful moment with Damon… 

The incident with the vampire hunter had left you rattled for weeks to come, while you weren’t subject to the hunter’s curse that didn’t stop it from hanging over you like a storm cloud, lightning threatening to strike at a moment’s notice, but it became easier to manage with time… you were able to compartmentalize and rationalize. Yes, he was human, but he was also trying to kill you and two of your friends. At least, that’s what you (and everyone else) were constantly repeating. Eventually, the dreams subsided and you were able to take a shower without seeing pools of red at your feet, and life began to return to normal.

Well, normal except for one key difference… Damon had become not just a friend of circumstance, but a genuine friend. You’d seen a side of him you were entirely certain didn’t exist and he had suddenly seen you as something more than just one of Elena’s human friends. He had discovered that you were deeply insightful, had good ideas when he actually listened instead of tuning you out, and you were a hell of a drinking buddy despite your weak tolerance for bourbon, which he was currently pouring for himself as you laid sprawled out on his bed with a grimoire underneath you.

“This one is a dead end,” you sighed, crawling off the bed and discarding it on the stack of books Bonnie had asked the two of you to read before swiping his glass and finishing it off, nearly snorting the amber liquid at the look on his face.

“That is good bourbon meant for sipping, it’s not meant to be treated like cheap tequila.”

“My bad,” you said, amusement lacing your tone as you held your hands up in surrender. “I didn’t realize there was a protocol to drinking alcohol.” He just gave you a look as he refilled his glass and poured one for you, one that said you’re insufferable. “I’ll let Bonnie know we didn’t find anything.”

“We’ll figure it out eventually,” he responded, placing the glass in your hand as you clinked it against his. “Got any plans tonight?” he asked, eyes darting to the window showcasing the setting sun.

“Besides drinking you out of house and home?” you answered with a question, tilting the glass back and swallowing it in one gulp, as if to further annoy him, “nope.” He rolled his eyes, walking towards the door and you followed him instinctively, like he was a magnet pulling you along with him, and you let out a gasp when you landed in front of the liquor cabinet, watching him pull out a bottle of tequila.

“That is for you, if you insist on not enjoying your drinks.” It was your turn to roll your eyes as you pulled the top off and drank directly from the bottle.

“We can’t all be old like you, I’m firmly in the stage of my life where alcohol is a means to an end,” you responded with a shrug of your shoulders, making your way over to records where you flipped through, looking for something to put on.

“I’m not old,” he protested and you raised your head slightly to shoot him a look.

“You fought in the civil war,” you pointed out. “On the wrong side, might I add.”

“Not by choice, and I deserted... a fact you always conveniently forget." he protested, rolling his eyes. “Why is it that this is always the album you pick?” he asked, changing the subject entirely as he watched you take another swig from the bottle.

“Do you have a problem with Prince?”

“None at all, however… variety is always a good thing,” he mused.

“Did you ever see Prince? Like, in his heyday?” 

“Once or twice,” he responded, smirking at the way your eyes lit up just imagining it. “Perks of vampirism… compelling yourself into the best spot at any show… One of my fonder memories is watching Fleetwood Mac from the side stage.”

You sighed dreamily, “that is something to put in the pro category.”

“Given it anymore thought?” he asked, extending his hand for you to take as he twirled you around to the sounds of I Wanna Be Your Lover, and you obliged his request to dance instantly, allowing yourself to be pulled into his orbit as your hips swayed in motion with his, both of your bottles long since discarded on a nearby table.

You nodded, “the incident put things into perspective, made me consider things a little more thoroughly. I actually remembered a conversation Elena and I had, long before we ever met you and Stefan, after watching a vampire movie… it was the middle of the night, we should have been sleeping but I asked her ‘if vampires were real, would you want to be one?’ She answered, ‘if they look like Brad Pitt, definitely.’” you paused to chuckle. "But, this isn’t a hypothetical question at a sleepover, it’s a real possibility I’ve teetered on the edge of more than once.” You two were no longer really dancing, merely swaying side to side as he looked down at you with rapt attention, more invested in what you thought than he ever would have imagined. “When I look at you I see endless opportunity, wild fun and trips around the world once, or twice, or a dozen times just because you can, and freedom. When I look at Stefan I see a constant struggle for control, longing for the true humanity he lost, and deep-rooted self-loathing for where he’s been and what he’s done. You two are on opposite ends of the spectrum, which makes it really difficult for me to gauge how I actually feel.”

“You could look at Lexi,” he pointed out. “She was the poster child for self-control and moderation but that girl got up to some wild things when she wasn’t saving hero hair.”

You smiled softly, “I did, actually… I only met her once, and granted I didn’t know she was a vampire at the time, but she did seem good, and free-spirited.” You watched his face fall slightly, no doubt reliving the moment he killed his brother’s best friend, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to break him from the thought. “I want to be like you… uninhibited, bold, a little reckless at times because you’re just invincible enough to be okay no matter what… but then I think of Stefan, or how much Elena wishes she could change things, or how hard Caroline tries to make the best of it and it pulls me right back into questioning everything. And the rub is that if I decide I want to stay human, I can change my mind at any time… if I decide to be a vampire on the other hand…”

“There’s no going back,” he finished and you nodded. “Whatever you decide, you’ve got my support. It’s kind of admirable, the way you’re really taking the time to actually figure out what you want.”

“Was that a compliment?” you teased and he harshly tugged you closer.

“Definitely not,” he whispered before letting you go to return to his bourbon… and you to your tequila.

“If you say so,” you mused, making your way to the record player to make a new selection.

“For the love of god, no more Prince.” he protested, already seeing you halfway through making that choice. You raised your hands in surrender, a cheeky smile on your lips as you instead selected Bon Jovi.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that.” he said, already lunging for you as you squealed and ran thorough the living room, desperately trying to evade him.

Trudging through the dark woods you struggled to see more than a few feet in front of you, entirely unguided by the light of the moon and the dim glow of your phone screen. One wrong turn had you separated from the Salvatore’s with Klaus on the loose and you thought to yourself that there couldn’t be a worse time for you to be lost and un-flanked by the brother’s. You were unsure of exactly why you were facing off with Klaus, the whole thing felt rather ridiculous to you, but you were whisked off the front porch just as you’d raised your hand to knock… simply there to collect a forgotten textbook. You shouldn’t have been surprised, this was just your life now, breezing from one supernatural disaster to the next.

You thought about calling out to them, but realized it would only alert the person you were desperately trying to avoid, and settled for your careful and slow movements, one foot in front of the other, until you finally, hopefully, found them before Klaus found you. It was an effort entirely in vain, you were human, he was an original vampire, you couldn’t even be shocked when you heard the tenor of his voice or felt a strong arm wrap around your waist as he hauled you through the forest kicking and screaming. “Klaus! Put me down!” you tried, but that was also in vain. 

“I can hear you, Stefan,” Klaus sneered as he dropped you rather unceremoniously to the ground, and you scrambled to your feet… contemplating running but it would only make matters worse.

“Just let her go, Klaus.” Stefan said, emerging with Damon through the tree line and you felt the tiniest bit of relief that was quickly squashed as you realized if they’d angered Klaus there was only so much backpedaling they could do. 

“I thought I told the lot of you to stay away from my family,” Klaus roared and a shiver slinked down your spine… if they messed with his family you were really done for.

“I thought retaliation was fair play,” Damon replied, confusion evident in his tone as he walked towards you, stopping only a few yards away. “Might want to tell that sister of yours to keep her emotions in check.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along the message,” he said, turning to harshly yank you forward. “But it appears you all need a message in return.” He bit into his wrist and you struggled in his grasp as the brother’s moved forward, only to stop in their tracks when Klaus said, “take one more step and I’ll snap her neck.”

“Klaus, don’t!” Stefan pleaded, you could already see the guilt clear as day across his face as he realized you were about to suffer the same fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone else. “She wasn’t involved, don’t do this to her.”

“Makes for a better lesson then, doesn’t it?” he asked, shoving his wrist against your lips and you tried to fight it but it was futile as you choked his blood down. “An innocent life, completely derailed by your actions.”

“Klaus,” you whispered, the shaky fear drawing his attention to you. “Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, love,” he responded, brushing a stray tear from your cheek and you stiffened at the touch. “You’re what's known as collateral damage, it’s nothing personal.” The worst part of it all was that as you looked up into his eyes you saw genuine remorse… he didn’t want to do this to you, he felt like he had to. “Perhaps in a few years when you’ve adjusted to this new life of yours, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Alright, come on… you’ve given everyone a good scare, message received, just let her go and we can all forget this ever happened.” Damon tried as Klaus’s hand gently cradled the back of your head.

“The next time you think of crossing my family, I want you to look at this lovely young girl, frozen in time, immortalized as a monster, and reconsider,” was the last thing you heard before everything went dark.

You jolted upright in a bed that wasn’t your own, chest heaving as you looked around frantically, trying to decipher where you were and your breathing slowed, only slightly, when you realized you were in Damon’s bedroom. Your mind was reeling as you checked yourself over for injuries before realizing if you were waking up in the boarding house whatever had happened had already been magically erased from your body. You stilled when you heard arguing on the other side of the door, Damon and… maybe Elena? Your head throbbed as you swung your feet over the edge of the bed, prepared to stand and figure out what the hell had happened when it all hit you like a freight train… snapping twigs, Klaus’s blood, darkness. You were in transition.

You jumped to your feet just as the door swung open and Damon was surprised to see you awake, “there she is. How are you feeling?” he asked in an uncharacteristically chipper tone and he was unsurprised when you charged towards him, tiny fists clenched and thudding against any inch of his chest you could hit.

“What the hell did you do?” you shrieked as he just stood there taking it, allowing you to get it out of your system and it didn’t take long for you to realize it wasn’t going to change anything and you stopped as you stepped back and ran a hand through your hair. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, a chill in your veins as you whispered, “I’m a vampire.” You thought of the conversations you’d had with Damon, exposing your feelings on the matter to only him, feelings you hadn’t quite deciphered for yourself. It was a choice you were debating, only for that choice to be ripped from your grasp.

“I really didn’t think he’d take it that far,” Damon tried and you just scowled at him, if looks could kill he’d be staked by now. You stood there for a moment, sorting through the mountain of emotions swirling through your head and your heart before laughter bubbled past your lips, true unfiltered laughter. 

“Is everything okay?” Stefan asked, entering the room and you noticed the blood bag in his hand he was trying to keep concealed.

“Oh, everything is just peachy,” you replied, thoroughly in a fit of giggles as Elena was pulled in by the sound and the three of them just watched through confused eyes with concerned expressions. “I mean, I don’t respond to texts for what…? Three hours? I try to have just one night to myself, and that’s the night you decide to piss off an original and I get murdered in the woods,” you ranted, breathless laughter still surrounding your words. “He called me collateral damage to whatever idiotic stunt you pulled with Rebekah. Collateral fucking damage,” you whispered the last part and Elena shared a look with Stefan that translated to what should we do? “That for me?” you asked, striding across the room and plucking the blood bag from his hands, and Elena flinched when you ripped the top of it off.

“You don’t have to drink it right now, you have time to decide-” Stefan started but another bout of laughter cut him off.

“Decide? That decision has already been made for me. I mean, what am I going to do, just let myself actually die?” you replied as you sucked the liquid down and he suddenly felt like he was in over his head. While this reaction from you wasn't shocking for Damon, Stefan had expected tears, breakdowns, and maybe a broken vase or two… but he might have been right about the breakdown, he was at a loss for any other way to describe what he was currently seeing. When the bag was empty you discarded it on Damon’s desk and took a moment to steady yourself, inhaling and exhaling all of the bad.

“Okay, what’s done is done.” you said suddenly and Elena’s face twisted up in confusion.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you can take a minute… process what happened,” she tried.

“Your emotions are really heightened right now, I think you should just sit down and take a beat.” Stefan added, and Damon was being unusually silent.

“Nope. I’m good, we can’t go back, we can’t change it… this is how things are. What’s done is done,” you repeated.

“That’s… it?” Elena asked and you nodded.

“That’s it. Now, I’m going to go home, take a shower, take a nap in my own bed, and I will be prepared for whatever hero monologue about self-control and moderation you were preparing during my brief stint into death tomorrow,” you said, directing the last bit to Stefan as you moved to exit the room and Damon cleared his throat.

“About that… you can’t leave, yet,” he said, voice cautious as you turned on your heel, eyes catching the sunlight and you took in another deep breath to steady yourself.

“Turns out we used the last lapis lazuli ring on hand for me…” Elena started, “Bonnie’s out getting one right now, but until then…”

“I’m stuck here.” you finished. You nodded, “perfect. Cool if I raid your kitchen?” you asked, but didn’t wait for a response. “Great, thanks so much.” You bounded down the stairs, stumbling on the landing as you realized you moved far quicker than you intended to… something for you to get used to, and you threw open the fridge with a huff as you sorted through its contents and settled on what looked like leftover takeout from the Thai place you loved so much, not even bothering to heat up the noodles as you hopped up onto the counter.

“By all means, help yourself, wasn’t looking forward to those later or anything,” Damon said as he entered and you let out a humorless laugh.

“Don’t even,” you warned as he leaned against the counter across from you. “Should I make you the same promise you made Stefan? An eternity of misery?” 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he answered and you focused your attention on your noodles. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? It’s not like you pissed off Klaus and robbed me of having a say in how I live the rest of my life,” you replied and he nodded, knowing there wasn’t really anything he could say in this moment to make it right. “I meant what I said, what’s done is done. I just… I didn’t know if I wanted this,” you sighed.

“I know,” he responded, and he did. “I had a plan if you’d ever decided you wanted to.” he said, and that pulled your attention back to him, eyes curious and prompting him to continue. “I was going to give you one last truly epic human day… maybe a little road trip away from all the chaos here with greasy drive-thru french fries and milkshakes, deserted dive bars with questionable décor, cheesy roadside tourist traps, maybe a hike thrown in there to remind you of the utter humanness in struggling with something as simple as a walk. Then we’d stop at a motel, watch really terrible made-for-tv movies, and when you were all tuckered out and fast asleep that’s when I’d do it… so you’d just wake up in your new life.”

“That’s… oddly sweet,” you said, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Everyone’s story is traumatic… I didn’t want that for you. I wanted it to be easy, and peaceful.” he said and you smiled softly at the sentiment. “I’m really sorry my choices resulted in the opposite, and got your choice taken away.”

You sighed, “it’s okay. I meant what I said, what’s done is done. I have decided that I did decide I wanted this, I just hadn’t shared that with anyone yet and really Klaus did me a favor. I’m reframing and moving on.” 

He chuckled, “you’re incredible, you know that?” he asked as he stepped in between your legs, palms resting on your thighs. “I will spend the rest of my eternity making sure you have the most fulfilling vampire life possible. My bad choices are not going to hinder you from having the life you want, whatever that ends up looking like.”

You laughed, “you shouldn’t have told me that because you just gave me so much power,” you teased. “I already have a request.” 

“Whatever it is, consider it done,” he replied, smirking at you.

“Can you go get me some clothes from my house? Something cute and fun…. you’re taking me out as soon as the sun goes down because I’m hungry and not for something that comes out of a blood bag or a take-out container.”

“On it,” he answered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “In the meantime, go upstairs and relax. Take a bath, raid the liquor cabinet, raid the fridge in the basement, whatever you want, and when I get back I’ll give you the best first night of vampirism you could ask for.” he said and you laughed as he disappeared, hopping down from the counter to follow his instructions. Sure, this wasn’t how you’d imagined it, before you woke up you weren’t even sure this was what you wanted, but there was no use dwelling on things that could be unchanged… there was only making the best of it, and welcoming your new life with open arms.

taglist: @caseysalvatore @minalblood @styxflower

[asunsetgrace16]

Died of a Broken Heart ⎥ NM29

Pairing: Nathan MacKinnon x fem!reader

Summary: It turns out that it is possible to die of a broken heart

Warnings: sad sad sad, swearing,

Notes: I take it back. Kind of. I don't think my groove is entirely back, or maybe it was just the fics I was working on. I wrote this in four hours around midnight and this is my first attempt at writing something sad. I will say that it was hard to not cry writing this, so hopefully 🤞 you guys feel some emotions too. There isn't much dialogue in the beginning. Also, broken heart syndrome is in fact a real thing

masterlist ⎥ navigation

Word Count: 3.7k

Nate is numb. He’s been numb since about 10:30 last night, when the police knocked on his door. He had been home for 20 minutes max, having just gotten back from Cale’s house, supper with him and Gabe and Mikko. Tracey was up in Calgary for a few days. Y/N had dinner plans with her work friends, it was Shannon’s birthday. The world tilted on its axis as he was told that Y/N was killed. They soberly tell him what happened forty-five minutes ago. Hit-and-run…they are looking for the driver…happened in the restaurant parking lot…no, she was the only one. Nate’s pretty sure he stops breathing, because he feels a firm hand on his elbow guiding him back into his house, coaxing him to take deep breaths. Blood rushes in his ears, and he thinks, Australia, their honeymoon. He lifts a hand to wipe his face. When did he start crying? 

The police stay for a while, watching him carefully until they are sure he won’t spiral into a panic attack, ironic all things considered. When he is semi-into it, they explain everything again. 

Ok,” Nate says, “would you...you mind, um, coming back in the morning? I need to hear this once some of the shock wears off.” His voice is quiet and strained. He doesn’t fight the tears silently rolling down his cheeks. They agree to his request, leaving with a handshake and squeeze on the shoulder, hints of agony shining through their masks of professionalism.

Nate stays sitting at his kitchen table, head in his hands. Sobs shake his body, uncontrollable and awful. He cries so hard he thinks he might cry himself sick. Eventually, he leans back, face twisted with emotion and damp with tears. Slowly, he heads to bed. Each movement is mechanical. He tosses and turns, his sleep is plagued by once-sweet memories of Y/N turned into cruel reminders that she was ripped from him.

Eventually he gives up and moves to the guest bedroom. He cries more, more than he ever has. He wants Y/N, he wants to kiss her, and hold her, and take her to games and-.

-

Next thing Nate knows, he is waking up to the sun streaming through the curtains. He is confused at first, the stiffness of the bed isn't what his bed feels like. As he opens his eyes, last night comes rushing back. He doesn’t want to believe it. They had just started their life together, with promises of love and kids and 60 more years. The tears start again, slower than the previous night but no less gut-wrenching. Reluctantly he heads to the bathroom. He looks worse than imagined. Red and puffy eyes that unfortunately make the blue pop, pale skin and chapped lips. Nate’s hands shake as he splashes water on his face. 

Taking a deep breath, he tries to get some semblance of a list to make sense in his mind. He shoots off a vague text to Bedsy, letting him know that he might be late for practice, not knowing how long the police will take. 

It turns out that it only takes half an hour. The same officers from the night before knock on Nate’s door at 7:30, introducing themselves and Parker and Walker. They recount the night before in more detail. Y/N was killed at 9:48 pm, during a hit-and-run in the restaurant parking lot. She was the only one, none of her friends were even injured. They tell Nate that it was an instant death, painless…that she didn’t suffer. Nate is frozen in his chair, back ramrod straight and hands clasped tightly. Walker leaves a copy of his first report, and his phone number in case Nate has questions. He walks them out, shaking their hands and thanking them for coming over again.

Returning to the kitchen, he pulls out a notepad and pen. Nate lists off the things he needs to do. Call his parents. Call Y/N’s parents. Call the funeral home. Talk to C-Mac and Bedsy and the team. Get through practice. 

He decides to wait on calling his parents, saving that for the afternoon. Same with the funeral home. He is in a daze the whole time he prepares for practice. He makes his usual protein drink, but he thinks that he used orange juice instead of water. Nate’s not sure. He also isn’t entirely sure how he made it to the arena without running a red light.

His whole walk to Bedsy’s office is stressful. He dreads the thought of having to have this conversation more than once. He knocks on the open door, seeing C-Mac there as well. 

“Hey Nate, I got your text.” Bedsy starts, looking at Nate, concerned, “You ok? Respectfully, you look like shit.”

“Feel like it too. Can uh, both of you come down to the dressing room? Like now? I have some, some uh,” Nate stops, swallowing, “some news, and I want to say it as few times as possible.”

“Sure, all right.” Bednar and C-Mac glance at each other, worried. They’ve seen Nate be not ok before, but this is new. Nate is silent during their trek to the dressing room, still holding his orange juice and green protein powder monstrosity. Bedsy opens the door, gesturing for Nate to go through first.

“Hey Nate, you forgot your jacket at mine last night. You didn’t pick up when I called.” Cale tells him. Nate is standing where Bedsy usually stands.

“Uh…ok thanks, Cale. I was um…I was a little preoccupied last night. Sorry” He responds. His voice is shaking, his hands are shaking, Bedsy and C-Mac are getting increasingly concerned and Nate feels on the verge of a panic attack.

Cale grins suggestively at him, “Ohhh, I see, I see how it is. Getting a little lovin’ on with Y/N I s-”

Nate interrupts abruptly, cutting straight to the chase, “Y/N is dead. She’s dead.”

The whole locker room freezes. Cale’s jaw drops. Someone's water bottle hits the floor.

“Holy shit-” 

“Oh my god.”

“Nate, you need to sit down.”

The voices swirl and blend around him. Nate’s vision loses focus, and cotton balls are stuffed in his ears. Hands find his elbows, easing him into a stall. Someone kneels in front of him. Nate stares, glassy eyes unseeing. 

Slowly, he comes back. His throat is raw and scratchy and he needs water. Mikko tosses over a water bottle and a clean, damp towel.

“Start from the beginning, Nate.” Jo urges softly.

So Nate recounts the story. The entire team is close around him as he repeats what he was told this morning and last night. Their faces reflect the horror and agony Nate feels. Tears fall when he says that her death was instant. He hears sniffles from somewhere, and everyone else is crying now, too.

“It’s good,” he says, “knowing that she wasn’t in pain, but it is awful knowing that there was no chance of saving her.” His voice breaks, he covers his mouth with a hand sobs as quietly as he can. Cale hugs one side and Jo’s on the other. Once the tears slow, he takes the towel that Mikko’s holding. 

“Practice is canceled, today and tomorrow.” Bednar says, “I don’t want Nate to be left alone. Cale, Jo, Mikko, go with him and grab Gabe too. I will talk to the league, see about rescheduling the game tomorrow. I will have to tell them, Nate.”

“No, you guys play. Say I’m out day to day or something. A practice muscle strain.” Nate objects.

“Nate, your wife died less than twelve hours ago. We will not be playing hockey. I’ll phone in and say we forfeit. I will tell Bettman that the news doesn’t go out until you, me, and C-Mac give an interview.”

“Ok.”

-

The afternoon follows a similar pattern. Cale drives Nate home, Jo phones Gabe. Mel brings soup when she comes with Gabe. She folds Nate into a hug as he cries. He makes the excruciating phone call to his parents and hers. Cale smartly suggests doing a triple call so there’s only one conversation. 

“Where should I bury her?” Nate asks, “Here, or should she be back home?”

“Nate, her home has been with you for years. Keep her close to you.” Y/N’s dad tells him. Nate nods forgetting that they can’t actually see him. Gabe takes notes while they discuss the funeral over the phone. Granite headstone, brown casket, service at St. Andrew’s and burial in the graveyard nearby. The reception will be held in the hall near Nate’s house. He doesn’t want people in his house. The date is set for March 5th. 

The media has a field day upon the announcement that the Avs have forfeited their game against the Stars. Sid calls him within a minute.

Nate forces the team to play their next game three days later on February 28th. It’s at home against Buffalo. They lose in an uncharacteristic fashion, so much so that the Buffalo players notice something is really wrong.

Gabe takes care of most of the funeral arrangements, and Nate is forever grateful. He meets with the funeral director, sending with him the clothes he picked out for Y/N to be buried in. Before he leaves, he hands Nate a box.

Opening it, Nate finds her purse. Her phone. A box with her wedding rings. Jo finds him with shaking shoulders and his head in his hands.

On March 2nd, a week after Y/N died, Nate asks for a press conference. The Avs lost both games they played in that week, with Nate a very conspicuous absence. Bedsy asks over and over if Nate is sure that he wants to go through with it.

“I’m sure. It won’t be a secret for much longer.” Nate says. Bedsy just nods. The trio of Nate, Bedsy, and C-Mac file into the media room.

Nate starts, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible. “I’m aware you all have been wondering where I have been this past week.”

The reporters nod. Nate takes a deep breath.

“On February 23rd, I received news. News that my wife was killed in a hit and run accident. It happened in a restaurant parking lot as she was heading to her car.” He stops as hands fly up. C-Mac picks someone.

“Nate, I am very sorry for your loss. Is this why the game was forfeited last week?”

“Yes, it was. It was a shock to all of us, and none of us were in any condition or mental state to play.”

“How is this going to affect the rest of your season?”

Nate scoffs quietly. His wife is dead and they are concerned with hockey. “I have decided to take an extended leave of absence from the team. I won’t be playing in the game tomorrow night, nor will I be for the rest of the season. My life was completely torn apart a week ago, I have more important things right now. I do ask that I be left alone right now, no reporters at my house or on the street. I want privacy.”

With that, Nate walks out. Cale is waiting to drive him home and he takes one look at Nate and pulls him in for a hug. He is tired of crying and tired of people saying they are sorry and tired of missing Y/N and tired of being tired.

-

No. 1 

February 24, 9:09 pm

Nate: Hey guys, I have some news.  Davo: Period at the end of the sentence. This won’t be good Nate: Y/N was killed last night, hit and run Sid: Oh my god, Nate Sid: Are you ok? Were you hurt? Davo: Oh shit Nate: I’m fine, but I guess that’s relative right now Nate: I wasn’t there. She went to dinner with friends. It happened in the parking lot Auston: I am so sorry, man. I realize that that is probably not what you want or need to hear, but I don’t know what else to say Nate: No no, it's ok. I appreciate it. I think I’m still in shock, so not much room for anything other that devastated right now Ryan: Is there anything we can do? Nate: No, not right now. Funeral’s on the 5th, if anyone wants to come. My place is full, but any of the guys would let you stay with them Sid: Of course we want to come, it's just a matter of whether we can Ryan: Even if any of us play, once the news is out most teams will probably want a player there for support Davo: I checked and it's in the middle of a break for us. Ryan and I will be there, Leon too probably Jack: We’re out west on a road trip, but I could try and pull some strings to come. Nico will try to be there too Owen: We are at the end of a homestand that day, but I’ll probably get to come. Can’t do much worse than we already are Owen: That was bad, sorry. Lame-ass excuse for a joke Nate: Don’t be. It almost made me not frown. Thank you Juraj: I’ll be there. We are in LA the day before. Newy will want to come Baby Connor: I’ve got a break before our trip down there. I’ll be there. Dammit why am I baby Connor again? Nate: Cause you are a baby. I really appreciate it, guys. Thank you Baby Connor: Dude obviously. You can’t just drop the worst news of your life and not expect your number 1 buddies to rally the troops and support you Nate: The kid’s gonna kill us all. I didn’t need to cry again but everything makes me cry now, I guess Baby Connor: Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to Nate: I know, just messing with you

-

The funeral goes perfectly. Nate’s and Y/N’s parents arrived a few days ago and have been staying with him. It’s a comfort to have them there, though most days he feels like he’s wading through quicksand. There is usually a teammate there, or two. Sid flies in the day before, same with all the guys from the groupchat. Naz comes from Calgary. EJ and Tyson come, and other Tyson and Bo make the trip out with Owen. Alex comes with Juraj. Nate spends the day crying silent tears and hugging more people than he cares to remember. Mikko, Cale, EJ, Jo, Tyson, and Sid are pallbearers at the funeral. He gives a speech, short as he can get away with. His voice breaks and wavers the whole time. Y/N’s parents and Nate’s say a few words, and the priest reads the eulogy. 

The weather is mild for the burial, Nate almost wishes it was miserable. The day passes in a daze, making awkward small talk with people he barely knows, Thankfully they leave within an hour. The rest of the people there manage to lift the mood a little and Nate moves from crying to barely frowning. Connor Bedard sticks close to him most of the time. Nate is grateful for him, he’s a good kid with a good heart. He hugs Connor extra hard before he leaves to catch his flight to Utah.

-

“Nate!” Cale calls, knocking on his door again. He’s normally never late, but things still aren’t normal. Nate was the one who suggested that they go skate, not practice, but just to skate. A change of scenery. Cale finally gives up and digs his key out of his pocket. He’s a little confused when he sees that none of the lights are on. Nate hasn’t been himself, but this is weird. Nate’s dog Aspen appears from the hallway. 

“Hey buddy, where’s Nate?” Cale asks him. Aspen circles Cale once before heading back towards Nate’s bedroom. Cale follows him. Nate’s door is shut tight and Aspen has his nose shoved in the corner. Opening the door, Aspen bounds to Nate’s side, where he looks to be still asleep. He whines, getting his nose under Nate’s hand.

“Oh my god.” Cale whispers. Nate is a shade of gray no living person should ever be. “Oh my god.” He moves to the bed. Nate is cool when Cale touches his wrist. He fumbles for his phone, dialing 911 when he doesn’t find a pulse.

-

“Sid…” Kathy calls up the stairs, “Get down here, you have to see this.”

Sidney hustles down at the tone of her voice. Kathy is standing behind the couch, remote gripped in one hand. He stands behind her, hand on her waist. Her hand drops the remote, coming up to cover her mouth as they hear the news.

"... and now we have saddening news coming from Denver, Colorado. It is with our deepest condolences that we announce the death of NHL star, Nathan MacKinnon. He was found early this morning after failing to meet teammate Cale Makar, for morning skate. Makar called 911 when he found MacKinnon in bed after he didn’t answer the door. According to law enforcement agencies, MacKinnon died peacefully at home overnight, but suddenly, with no chance of resuscitation once they arrived on the scene. His death comes just weeks after the death of his wife, Y/N. What this means for the Avalanche and the rest of the season, we don’t know. More, after the break.” 

Sid thumbs open his phone to the news app. Every headline is the same variation of announcing Nate’s death. Tears fall on the screen.

Colorado Avalanche teammates of Nathan MacKinnon, coach Jared Bednar, yet to speak on the star’s sudden death.

Breaking News: NHL Superstar Nathan MacKinnon, dead at 29. What does this mean for the Avalanche?

“The NHL offers its deepest sympathies and condolences to Nathan and Y/N MacKinnon’s families during this time of tragedy.”

“Nathan MacKinnon, announced dead this morning weeks after his wife, Y/N MacKinnon, was tragically killed…”

Details about Nathan MacKinnon’s death are expected soon.

-

THE COLORADO SUN

Details emerge on the death of Colorado Avalanche star Nathan MacKinnon

J.P Burrow, 12:00 pm March 30th, 2025

Four weeks ago, the hockey world was shocked when Nathan MacKinnon, 29, appeared in a press conference after being notably and unusually absent from two home games, both lost in depressing fashion to weaker teams. What he revealed that day was the furthest thing from what anybody expected.

We were told that a week prior, MacKinnon’s wife Y/N, 27, was killed in a hit-and-run car accident. Her funeral was three days later. Understandably, MacKinnon withdrew from the public. His teammates were a constant source of support, but that only goes so far when grieving your spouse. He decided to take the rest of the season off.

MacKinnon and Y/N were married for three years, and together for nearly ten. They were fan-favorites throughout the league, despite them being notoriously private. MacKinnon never smiled as much as he did when he was talking about his wife. 

Now, thirteen days ago, the world was rocked again when it was announced that MacKinnon was dead. Details surrounding his death have been revealed after an autopsy. The report revealed that his heart sustained damage after Y/N’s death, caused by a sudden, constant surge of adrenaline in the days following. This causes a disruption of blood flow in the heart, similar to a heart attack. It is fittingly called Broken heart syndrome, where the death of a loved one can trigger the condition. Death is rare, but it happens.

We reached out to friends of MacKinnon’s across the league, his own teammates commented in a press conference earlier today.

Connor Bedard: Nate was a close friend of mine, he helped me a lot when I first got into the league. I looked up to him a lot. Once I got to know him outside of hockey, I learned just how amazing of a person he is– was. I was shocked to learn that he died. We had just landed in Denver for our game against them when Cale [Makar] called me.

Sidney Crosby: It was a lot for all of us, the whole month. I’ve been close with Nate for ten years, he's my best friend, so to say that I’m going to miss him is an understatement. I saw how much Y/N dying crushed him, they were made for each other. Hockey was his first love, but Y/N was his true love.

Gabe Landeskog: The season changed for all of us after Y/N died and Nate took time off. There will be no replacing Nate, his skill, his passion…it left a hole. I’m not going to sugarcoat things. This will be really difficult to come back from. It won’t be this season, maybe not even next season, but we are going to fight, for Nate. He would want us to.

-

“He really died of a broken heart.” Cale says before turning to bury his face in his wife’s hair, crying silently. He hasn’t been the same since finding Nate, taking his own leave from the team.

For the second time in a month, the Avalanche and company are reunited, standing in black around a grave beside the one they stood around three and a half weeks earlier, but another person short. Y/N’s headstone will be put in the same day as Nate’s. EJ is holding Aspen’s leash, who took him in when Nate died. He’s retiring, he told everybody when they gathered the second time. The past month reminded him that life is short. He is moving back to Denver to take over Nate’s house. They had found a notebook in his bedside table that had the beginnings of a will written in it. He wanted EJ to have Aspen, and the house if he wanted it. Pictures, his suits, and Y/N's wedding dress were to go to his parents, donate his and Y/N's clothes, and box away his Avalanche gear and ship it to Sid in Nova Scotia. Their wedding rings go to Sid too.

“But now they are together again.” Jo says, smiling through his tears. The thought brings some comfort to them, knowing that Nate has been reunited with the love of his life, and won’t spend the rest of his life missing Y/N.

[alotofpockets]

Birthday surprise | Daniëlle van de Donk

Pairing: Daniëlle van de Donk x Reader

Summary: You join your wife at training camp on her birthday with a life changing surprise gift.

A/n: Let's pretend Daan's birthday wasn't like a month ago, I just needed a good setting for this fic haha

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 650

This year your wife's birthday fell during the Dutch National Team's trainingscamp. Usually partners and guests weren't supposed to join the camps, but they had made an exception for you to join them today. You watched their morning practice on a bench in the sun. Watching Daniëlle play soccer was one of your favorite things to do but watching the way her face lights up when she wins one of the drills might make watching her practice even more fun. 

You had known the team for years, so when their training was done most of the girls greeted you with a hug before heading to the changing rooms. Daan loved seeing you at practice, you had always been so supportive of her career and were present at every game you were able to go to. You took the time the girls were in the changing rooms to get Andries Jonker alone, you had called ahead to share your plans with him. He's the reason you're able to be at the training camp today, you wanted to thank him again and hand him the surprise present that you brought. You had arranged that it would be handed to her along with the flowers that she would get from the team, thinking that would make the surprise even bigger not instantly knowing that the gift came from me.

The dining hall filled up with people for lunch time. You sat with your wife’s teammates as you sang happy birthday to her. She stood in front of her red velvet cake, it was her favorite and she was so happy that they were able to get it. She gets handed a bouquet of white roses and as they go to take a picture to document the occasion, she asks for you to join her. You take some pictures before Andries steps up, “We have one more small gift for you.” He says as he hands her a small bag and takes the flowers to put them in the vase on the table. You had planned it exactly like this but you were still nervous, this gift would be life changing. Daan reaches into the bag and pulls out a bundled up jersey, she’s confused why the team would give her a jersey, but she tries not to show her confusion as she hands you the bag so that she can unbundle it. 

She unbundles the fabric, realizing it’s a very small jersey. She turns it around and sees her name on the back. She looks over at you with big eyes, “Does this mean what I think it means?” Your nerves make room for excitement and your smile grows, “It does.” Daniëlle goes right in for a hug with tears streaming down her face. You hold her tight as your own tears run down your cheeks. “This is like the best birthday present ever.” She says as she slowly lets go to peck your lips. The rest of the team who had been just as shocked as Daan, all held their applause for you to have your moment. But the second the embrace ends, they start clapping and cheering. One by one her teammates and the staff members come over to congratulate you. Once everyone had their turn, you asked for a couple more pictures as the both of you held the jersey up, showing the back with the last name showing.

Both of you were overjoyed with the news. You had been trying different ways to get pregnant for a while now, and finally getting a positive pregnancy test meant so much. After lunch the two of you excuse yourselves to go outside and let everything sink in. You sit down on a nearby bench and start talking about how excited you are for this new chapter of your lives. “Happy birthday, my love.” You say before heading back to the team.

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[patrophthia]

masterlist

last updated: dec, 07, 2023 don't like masterlist ? find my work here !

most of my work, if not all, are written using fem pronouns.

🌷: fluff | 🌾: angst | 🍀: humor | 🪷: smut | 🌟: personal fav

◎ mauraders era

halloween blurb

get up | series masterlist

new jeans 2nd ep ‘get up’ out now and every all streaming platform! which track would like to listen to today?

→ sirius black

sycamore girl | 12.3k 🌷 / 🍀 / 🌟

sirius black has the smartest plan in mind for scamming his family, and it might or might not be faking a marriage.

libraries and abs | 1.7k 🌷 / 🍀

sirius makes sure that his girlfriend does well on her test if that was the last thing he does.

make you mine | 1.7k 🌷

part of my get up series

it's hard having crushes, its even harder when you're someone who's on the shyer side crushing on someone as popular as sirius black; good things lily evans has it in herself to play a little bit of matchmaker!

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

just kiss already! | hello kitty clips

→ remus lupin

can i kiss you? | series 🌷 / 🍀

an AUs series of established relationship!reader and remus.

bad habits | 1.6k🌷 / 🌾?

remus bites his tongue, it’s a bad habit.

it wasn’t implied? | 4.2k 🌷 / 🌾

to quote clairo: girlfriend or girl that’s a friend? is what you wanted to ask remus when everything becomes a little too complicated.

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

it’d be an honor |

→ james potter

falling for ya | 1.7k 🌷 / 🍀

mutual pining with james

the triwizard tournaments | 7.4k 🌷 / 🌾

what happens when james claims that you’re his girlfriend to save face? well let’s find out!

what letters? | 3.1k 🌷 / 🌾

what happens when your letters to james gets lost on their way over right after you confessed your feelings to him? apparently way too much confusion for the both of you

say the word and i’m down | 4.5k 🌷 / 🌾

part of my get up series

your boyfriend is a dick but your best friend james always has your back so maybe, maybe it was time you ended things with him

→ regulus black

what once was | 2.6k 🌷 / 🌟

academic rivals to lovers but it’s with regulus!

willow | 3.8k 🌷

life was a willow and it bent right through your wind

idiots to lovers | 2k 🌷

an argument leading to confessions in the rain!

dresses and fish bait | 0.59k 🌷 / 🍀

reg being annoying bf/best boy at the same time

cruel summer | 1.1k 🌷 / req

regulus purposely throws a game just so people could know about the two of you.

how you get the girl | 1.7k 🌷/ req

best friend CFO!regulus au!

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

better man | what’s wrong with secretary, lupin? | the carpet incident | meowtoos | does it pawther you? | unicorn and squids | a(cceptable)

◎ golden era

→ george weasley

christmas gifts | 1.6k 🌷/ req

your biggest comfort will always be the weasley, whether they force you to join their christmas or not

→ theodore nott | headcanons

love is sour grapes | 5.9k 🌷/ 🌾 / 🌟

theodore is a quiet piece of shit and that leads to miscommunication and complicated feelings

impossible | 2.4k 🌷

fluffy established relationships with theo after reader gets a little (tiny teenie bit) hurt whilst playing quidditch

red ears, and redder string | 7.2k 🌷 / 🌾 / req

red string soulmate!au with theodore!!

fairy of shampoo | 3.9k 🌾 / req

theodore doesn’t know how to talk to reader

take you to the basics | 3.9k 🌷/🍀/ 🌟

theodore is new to this dating thing and his friends + the golden trio are there to help!

try again | 1.1k 🌾 / req

the classic trope of blaise zabini meddling between you and your exes relationship during draco’s engagement dinner

just curious | 2.2 🌾

words of advice: don’t fall in love with your best friend’s other best friend!

attention is what i want! | 4.3k 🌾

it’s no secret that you have a crush on theodore nott, theo knows it, hell the whole school knew it; maybe if they didn’t then it’d be easier for you to get over him after you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. at least you got a new friend because of it.

mini skirt | 3.5k 🌷🪷

blaise zabini’s idea of how to play matchmaker might be different from the traditional way of doing it but at least you ended up getting dicked down, so you guess his method works too.

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

ASAP | you’re nice | hey emo boy! | too spicy for your heart | you’ve bewitched me | you’re my favorite comic | ditto | thought you loved me | make it make sense | just fine | dirty little liar

◎ riddle era

→ tom riddle

do not make him ‘go away’ | 4.6k 🌷 / 🍀 / 🌟

the head boy tom riddle might or might not just fancy a certain hufflepuff who doesn’t seem fazed by his charms.

show me how | 1.2k 🌾?

tom can’t love, but he’s willing to learn how.

love again | 2k 🌷 / 🍀 / req

tom finds himself attracted to someone who wasn’t phased by his charms

from the glue | 1.1k 🌷/ req

tom never thought he’d find love, but you’re here now and so he loves you.

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

know you better | new jeans, do you see? | not funny riddle untitled |

© please do not reupload/translate my work unless i give you my consent to do so!

[1800-fight-me]

Burnt Pancakes

Miguel O’hara x Female!Reader 

Rating: M (Mature)- as a general rule for my blog, minors please do not interact!

Warnings: This fic contains life threatening situations, angst, heavy making out, and allusions to sex. Also protective!Miguel should probably be his own warning...

Word count: About 1.4k 

Synopsis: You almost died last night, but your lover Spider-man was there to save you, and is now helping you through the emotional turmoil of a near-death experience. 

Author’s note: My first Miguel fic! I was not going to write for him but I am not immune to the hugely muscular grumpy dilf voiced by Oscar Isaac.... more fics might come... I am open to requests if anyone has other ideas they’d like me to write for him!

Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Your lungs were tight as you attempted to breathe in but the rapid speed at which you were falling took it all away. Your throat was raw and dry from screaming.  But you couldn’t stop, no you couldn’t stop. 

You were falling to your death from a hundred stories up. Nueva York was getting closer and closer as you fell at what had to be at least eighty miles an hour. 

You briefly worried that you would make a disgusting splatter on the pavement for someone to clean up. 

You continued screaming, it wasn’t a wordless scream, however. 

It was his name, over and over and over again. 

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?? 

Tears streamed down your cheeks and you felt absolutely gutted that he wasn’t here to save you. 

You thought he loved you. 

He promised he would always be there to save you. To hold you. To protect you. 

There. You gasped in relief as a spot of navy blue with splotches of red appeared in the sky above you. 

He was here. Almost all the fear left your body immediately at the sight. 

He would save you. 

Reddish-orange web shot out and reached towards you, and your eyes widened as you realized he was too far away. 

The web couldn’t reach you fast enough and the ground was too close. You stared at him, the love of your life, as your body hit the ground. 

He was the last thing you saw, and you didn’t even get to see his face again, just the mask. 

You gasped as you sat straight up in bed. Sweat covered your body and tears flowed freely down your cheeks. 

“Miguel!” you choked out as you reached across the bed and felt cold sheets. 

“¿Qué pasó?” he called out as he ran into your room, shirtless with sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a spatula in one hand, and claws out to protect you from the invisible threat on his other hand. 

His expression softened and his panic lifted as he saw you sitting safely in bed, but with tears in your eyes. 

“I… it was just a dream,” you finally said as he dropped the spatula and pulled you out of the bed and up into his arms. 

You nuzzled your face into his neck and settled your breathing. 

You melted into his strong embrace, and the feel of his warm skin against yours set your nerves at ease. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked. 

You took a shuddering breath. 

“It was about last night,” you said weakly. 

He hummed, an indication for you to continue, as he rubbed his large hand up and down the length of your spine. 

He might be a superhero who was used to being in constant danger, but you certainly weren’t. And the threat to your life you experienced the night before was terrifying. 

“You’re safe. I’ve got you. I promise,” he murmured. 

The tears began again. 

“I know,” you gasped. “My dream…. it rewrote yesterday and-and you didn’t catch me in the dream.” 

He made a soft sympathetic sound even as he frowned. 

“Do you remember what I told you last night?” 

He said as he pulled you back enough to look into your eyes. 

You drowned in the deep crimson of his gaze. 

You nodded. 

“Say it,” he encouraged gently. 

“I’m yours,” you said. 

“Mhmm. And I will always protect you,” he promised again. 

You believed him. Just as you did last night when he stood with you in the shower and washed the whole ordeal off your body. 

And you believed him when he pressed his plush lips across every inch of your skin and imprinted his promise on you. And you believed him when you became desperate for him to make you his, to show you, and he filled you until you couldn’t remember anything but his name. Until you were safe and sated in his arms and lulled into sleep. 

You believed him. Of course you believed him. So you weren’t sure why your unconscious mind conjured such a horrible scenario. 

“Lo sé,” you whispered. 

He leaned down and kissed your tears away one by one. 

“I love you,” you said, your bottom lip trembling until you pulled his lips to yours. 

It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was hungry and needy and overwhelming. It was exactly what you needed. 

He let you lead the kiss as you wrapped your arms and legs around him. His hands slid from your waist to grab at the flesh of your thighs and your ass. 

He groaned as you gripped his hair and you used the opportunity to slip your tongue against his. 

You whimpered at the taste of him and he gripped you tighter. 

“Preciosa, you know I love you too,” he said as he pulled back enough to whisper the words on your lips. 

“Mmm,” you hummed as he guided you to tilt your head back to give him access to your neck. 

He trailed his lips up and down your sensitive skin until you shivered. 

You gripped the strong muscles of his broad shoulders. 

“Make me yours again, mi amor,” you begged. 

His fangs grazed your neck and you moaned in anticipation, prepared for him to bite down, to give you the kind of pain that only amplified pleasure. 

You wanted to be connected with him in every conceivable way. 

The fire alarm blared loud enough that he grunted and you jerked back. 

You looked at him with wide eyes until his lips began to curve upwards and you started to laugh. He dropped you suddenly back down onto the bed before he rushed to the kitchen to take the burnt breakfast off the stove. 

You sighed as you flopped down onto your back and listened to Miguel’s mumbled curses as he put out the small fire and aired your small apartment out, getting rid of the smoke. 

It filled you with a glimmer of pride that even with his heightened senses, he was so consumed by you that he did not notice the burning food in the next room. 

It made your heart feel like it was going to burst when you thought of the unexpectedly gentle way the gruff superhero took care of you. 

You grabbed his shirt off the floor next to the bed and slipped it over your head, smiling slightly as it enveloped you completely, smelling like him, and fell nearly to your knees. 

You took care of your needs in the bathroom before you walked the five steps into the small kitchen. 

“You should try cooking more often,” you teased and he looked over his shoulder to glare at you. 

You unsuccessfully attempted to stifle your giggle. 

“C’mere,” he said as he practically pounced on you and pulled you into his strong arms. His large body enveloped you completely. 

You squealed as he hauled you up and against him before he lifted you up and sat you down on the counter. He ran his hands up your thighs, humming in satisfaction as he pushed the shirt up to gain more access to your skin. 

“Y’know, I have an apron you can wear next time so you don’t get flour on those rippling muscles,” you said as you ran your hands across his chest and abs under the pretense of wiping it away and he rolled his eyes. 

“The pancakes didn’t survive,” he said, in a deadpan tone, as reached beside you and slid a bowl of fruit towards you. 

You smirked at the twinkle in his eyes as you popped a strawberry into your mouth. 

“Gracias, It’s still a perfect breakfast, guapo,” you said and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. 

“Ay dios mio, tu eres…” he started in a pretend annoyed tone. 

“The best girlfriend ever?” you finished his sentence with a wink. 

“El amor de mi vida,” he practically purred as he pulled you into another kiss. 

Your toes curled as he kissed you deeply, intimately, and with such care and devotion you wanted to cry all over again. 

As you gripped him tight, you felt settled, warm, and completely at ease. You felt safe, protected, in your lover’s arms and you knew that no matter what you faced together due to his superhero identity, you would be together and he would always take care of you. 

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Haloo yellow helllloooooo

Is it alright if I ask for like Trafalgar Law x reader? It's up to you if you wanna make them male or female, I'm thinking of having a reader that can summon wings but with a price. Like the wings would literally rip out of their back, leaving a big scar and lots and lots of blood. It's not bad enough? The feathers are made of light steel but has sharp edges at the bottom. Making it more than painful... And I think it should be a curse so that you wouldn't have to think of a devil fruit? It's alr if you did, tho.

omg, this almost made my cry while I was writing it! As a note, Noroi means curse. I will also likely be creating the devil fruit I used in this as well as one based on her transformation (it sounds interesting to me). I made it more than just the wings, but there's reasoning for that... I'm gonna go cry now! (not really, but holy shit, this fic!)

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood, curses, angst, pain, hurt/comfort, GN!Reader

Word Count: 1675

     The first time he saw the scars, he was horrified. Two long, vertical lines down your back about where your shoulder blades were. Starting just above the shoulder blade and running down to your mid back. He wasn’t sure if the scars looked more like tears or cuts. You hadn’t answered him when he asked what they were from, you’d refused to tell him. After asking again and again, he began to assume that something horrific had happened to you, something you were afraid to talk about. Had you been captured and tortured? Had someone betrayed you? Had it been an accident of some sort? Did you even remember what had happened? Maybe it was so traumatic that your mind blocked it out, perhaps it was painful to remember. So he stopped asking, if it was traumatic, he didn’t want to risk an outburst or break down. 

     You remembered how it had happened, how you’d gotten this curse. A devil fruit, yet it wasn’t you who’d eaten it. The Noroi Noroi no mi. It allowed the user to bestow curses upon other people. Some minor, some… some like yours. Large metal wings, sharp blades that cut through your skin as they tore out of your back. Light weight yet strong, capable of propelling you hundreds, sometimes even thousands of feet in the air. The pain was like nothing you’d ever imagined before, the first time they’d sheared through your skin, you’d screamed in pain, falling to the ground. You’d lost consciousness, the pain too much for your mind to handle. You didn’t pass out from the pain anymore, but it still made you cry out in pain, it was still a blinding pain that left you shaking. With your wings fresh from your back, you looked like an angel of war, metal wings glinting in the sunlight as fresh blood dripped from the sharp tips of the ‘feathers’. Yet the curse didn’t stop there. With each activation, the curse progressed, as if to make your life an endless hell, maybe to ensure that you’d never just learn to deal with the pain. Metal that ripped out of your hair line, forming a beautiful silver circlet, yet dripped with blood, the red liquid running is streams down your face. A burning in your eyes, like acid, as they changed into an unnaturally bright blue, the whites turning a a lustrous ivory, like pearls. With each activation of your curse, you looked more and more like some sort of twisted, bloodstained angel of war. All you could think was it was only a matter of time before armor sprouted from your limbs, a cuirass of steel protecting your chest, until your body dripped with blood and you became a ‘true angel’ of blood and steel. Your worse nightmare. Horrific pain as the metal ripped through every part of your body, dripping with blood as people looked on in fear. What would the others think? What would Law think? Would they push you away? Or perhaps they might comfort you? Would they look at you in horror? Or would their looks turn to ones of sympathy? You couldn’t take that chance. You couldn’t risk losing those you loved most. 

     Now, however, you risked losing them anyway. Should you transform, you risked losing them as they pushed you away; but if you did nothing, you risked them dying and losing them for good, risked knowing that they died when you could have saved them. So with a pained cry, you allowed the metal to tear from your skin. Once more dripping with blood, you faced your enemies. Everyone’s eyes were on you, the scream, the transformation, drawing their attention. Pauldrons of metal covered your shoulders, your blood covered circlet dripping with blood, your wings glinting in the sunlight as the red liquid dripped from the tips to the ground. Unnaturally blue eyes glared at your enemies as the hilt of a blade formed at your waist. You could feel the metal springing from your skin in the same horrific fashion, yet this time, you didn’t care. This time, you took hold of the metal willingly, this time, you pulled it from your body as if the pain didn’t matter, as if what you had become was trivial. It left a gash in your hip, the hilt burned like red hot fire against your hand as you charged forward. An angel of war? No. A demon of blood, steel, and fury as you cut your enemies down. A metal blade, sharper than any man made sword, sharper than even Law’s scalpels or feather blades. Piercing and slashing through your enemies and suddenly, you were covered in blood once more, yet this blood was not your own. Chest heaving, you dropped the blade at your feet. All around you, bodies littered the ground, blood watering the earth and pooling at your feet. You closed your eyes as tears burned behind your eye lids. It was time to face the others, time to face their horrified stares and terrified faces. But you refused to do so as you were now, refused to face them as the demonic creature you’d become. The wings retracted, the blade on the ground seemed to gain a mind of its own as it turned into liquid metal and shot into your calf. Pauldrons pulled back into your skin, and circlet slipped back into your head. But more had formed during your battle. Blood stained vambraces folded back into your forearms and a gold trimmed tasset slipped into your waist. Your clothes had been shredded by the metal that had sprouted from your body and was covered in your blood. The wounds caused by the curse quickly healed, leaving more scarring. It was a bitter sweet ability of the curse. It allowed you to heal quickly, making wounding you difficult. Because if you bled out, the curse could no longer take hold of you. The palm of your hand now had burn scars and your eyes still felt like they were covered in acid. Still, still you turned to them. Their looks were ones of horror and sympathy, they cradled their own wounds, yet they stood up, hurrying over to you. Bepo was the first to reach you, pulling you close and wrapping his large arms around you, sobbing as he tried to say something that was lost in the sounds of his crying. Penguin and Shachi were soon wrapped around you as well, muttering apologies and words of comfort. Soon the entire crew minus Law was holding you in a group hug, words of comfort surrounding you. Tears ran down your cheeks, yet these were not tears of pain. They were tears of relief. They didn’t hate you, they weren’t turning you away. They were pulling you closer. You lost track of how long they held you before you all returned to the Polar Tang, the crew offering to cook, help you clean up, let you rest, whatever you wanted. It was shortly after you’d entered your room, before you got a chance to shower that Law appeared in your room. The two of you simply stood there in silence. He was the one you were most afraid of right now. Would he leave you? Would he hate you? Would he be angry at you for keeping it a secret? Law walked over to you in silence, gently taking your arm and examining the new scars.

     “Now I know why you didn’t tell me… are you… are you still in pain?” he asked, eyes looking at you in concern. 

     “They’re… tender. They will be for a few days.” you admitted, looking away from him. Law gently wiped some blood away from your arm with his sleeve before pressing a soft kiss to the new scar that ran up your entire forearm.

     “From now on, I’ll take care of you, You’ll never have to use this ability again. I… I won’t let you. As your captain, I forbid you from using it again, no matter the situation.” he said sternly, yet you could tell that his words were simply out of worry for your well-being. You could only nod as you stared into his eyes. While they were filled with sympathy and concern, they also shone with love. He loved you too much to let this happen to you again.

     “Let me help you.” he said softly, gently pulling the remains of your blood soaked clothes from your body before gently carrying you to the shower. He was more gentle with you than ever as he carefully washed the blood from your body, almost as if he was afraid his touch would tear your skin open again. Once you were clean and in fresh clothes, he ‘shambles’ed you to the dining room, the crew already having made your favorite. While they wanted to be there for you, they’d all agreed to leave you be, not wanting to make you feel like a freak by standing there and staring at you or asking you questions. They had questions, they wanted to care for you, but they knew it would be best if they treated you like normal, as if nothing had happened. To treat you like always so that you knew that nothing had changed, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. In a way, it was true, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. You were still you, still the same person who cared about them, still the same person they’d always cared for, who was part of their little family. They’d let you rest more often, they’d treat you with more care, they’d protect you more, but you were still you, even with your curse. Law would be the same. He’d treat you like he always had, yet at the same time, he’d be more careful with you, be softer with you. But you knew it was only because they didn’t want you to have to suffer that pain again. Only because they loved you. They still loved you. 

[sp00kymulderr]

our house of flames

Part 1 - Spark

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: M, heavy details of grief, blood, implied canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts, injury, trauma, reader is dealing with death of a loved one, general sadness, kissing. Please let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Years after the outbreak the unthinkable happens and you lose the person who means the most to you. You’ve chosen to give up when Joel Miller finds you and decides to take you in, but is he the best person to help you deal with your grief?

A/N: Whilst this part is M rated, future parts will be very much 18+. This was meant to be v simple pwp but became a different beast entirely oops. If you like it please please comment and/or reblog. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist

When Joel had found you, you’d thought it was the end.

In some ways you’d hoped it was.

In the years since the outbreak, everything had changed – you’d learnt to fight, to fend for yourself, to trust few and to hold on to those you cared for with everything you had. That was how it had to be now, so different from before. Those people – the ones you loved – had dwindled dramatically over time. Most were lost to the cordyceps, some to hunters or raiders until eventually it was just you and her, your closest friend through life and hell.

You’d spent over a year just the two of you, drifting from town to town looking for somewhere safe, secure, somewhere to rest your heads for more than a few hours. You’d heard rumours of strongholds you desperately wanted to find, but with the infected population increasing by terrifying numbers it was becoming more and more impossible to imagine a haven in this new world.

So while you’d searched and tried not to yearn for what you might find you’d both learnt instead to survive as ghosts, to keep quiet and out of sight – alive and uninfected.

Until you’d made a mistake.

One that cost a life.

Joel had found you blood-stained and afraid, stuck still in a state of shock. You were shivering violently, huddled down next to a body that you couldn’t seem to look at. Blood on your hands, blood on your clothes, it was starting to pool in the snow. The sticky red of it was making you sick. A gun lay thrown to your other side, muzzle partially buried in the snow.

Your breath ragged, puffing out in white clouds as you heaved with panic, and he had looked at you with cold eyes as you shuddered on the icy ground. You were more than sure that he was another threat – another monster – but you were too adrift to run for your life, too lost now to find a way out of this.

You had sobbed, pathetic and broken, and waited for the man to kill you. You thought perhaps it was all you deserved, to die here beside the last person you had cared about. And the man did aim his pistol at you, his first instinct taking over.

Holding up your hands in defeat, those red stained traitorous hands of yours, you watched almost lifeless as he rifled through your pack. You sniffled, the flow of tears streaming steady down your cheeks.

So this was what surviving had gotten you.

“Please” you had sobbed and wiped your cheeks, smearing them red-tinged. He had placed the pack back down having not taken anything from it. You had nothing he needed you guessed. You had nothing, after all.

“Please” again, and truthfully you didn’t know if you were asking him to end your life or spare it.

He’d looked at you then, properly, and you felt you saw pity in the eyes of this stranger. He remained pointing the pistol at you but something had made him hesitate. For a few moments there was only the puff of your still panicked breath, his much calmer and floating above you in disappearing wisps.

“You bit?” he asked, and was clearly relieved when you shook your head. “She was bit, right?” he waved the gun in the direction of the body you dare not look towards.

“She was...she...we were so careful. We were – She just couldn’t outrun them…” you couldn’t say it, not fully, but the missing parts of your words provided the answer for him.

You’d looked up at him then, with wide eyed fear from the horrors you’d seen and watched the man take a long breath, thinking something over.

“I’m sorry” he murmured, hesitant. You braced for the kill shot then, but all that had come was a sigh as he lowered the gun.

He extended a hand, it had shocked you – scared you more than the thought of dying. You flinched, and he just stayed like that, offering his help.

“It’s alright” he muttered “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Looks like you’ve already been through hell” he looked to the scene before him. The blood and the tears and the discarded gun somewhere to your left.

You had finally, nervously, taken his hand and let him pull you up from the ground. You didn’t look behind you, but you saw him eye you and then reach down for your pack and the gun that you never wanted to have to touch again.

“You got anyone else...anyone waiting on you?” he asked, and you saw a sympathy in his eyes when you shook your head timidly.

“Why...why are you helping me?” you questioned cautiously, voice barely there. You had screamed it away.

He didn’t answer, just handed you your pack – but not the gun – and told you “I got a place to sleep, sheltered, gonna be there a few days hopefully before I move on again. You can come with me, while you get your bearings”

“I don’t understand” you stood away from him, wary and confused and he just waited, too calm.

“You’ve been through something. Way I see it, leaving you on your own out here to die – that would be cruel...there’s infected out here, and worse. I’m not blind, you’ve given up fighting – you’re scared and alone. I’ve got enough humanity left in me to know you need help” he had shrugged and started walking.

And maybe it had been foolish, but you followed him. Because what he’d said, how he’d said it, it sparked something in you.

Hope.

If only you’d known how dangerous hope could be.

***

Three weeks later, and you were starting to feel like a person again. Not the person you had once been, no, they were never coming back to you. But more than a husk, with perhaps at least part of your soul intact.

Beyond all odds, the man had spared you. He had helped you, taken you back to shelter and patched you up. Sure, he’d checked you for bites – never quite believing your words for himself – and it had been humiliating to let him inspect you like that but you couldn’t blame him for not trusting you.

Trust was earned, and not often in a world like this one.

“You’re good” he had said, passing your clothes back, and though you hadn’t quite found relief in that you were at least grateful he wouldn’t put you down the way you had had to…

He hadn’t spoken much, in those few weeks between finding you and now. His name was Joel, he had told you between bites of some miserable canned beans, but that was about all you got from him in the first week. Slowly, ever so slowly you had earned tiny snippets of information from him, but it all felt trivial in the shadow of whatever agony he must’ve lived through to be here now. Everyone had gone through something, and he wore his woe like a heavy cloak that he had no choice but to bear.

You learned that Joel was gruff, controlled, clearly capable of enduring on his own, but there was something else to him too – a sadness you knew better than to talk about. A part of him was missing, you could feel it in everything he did and maybe it should’ve scared you but he had saved you, and you would always see that in him first and foremost.

He was ruthless, too. And you realised very soon that you had been lucky in your fate with him. You  learnt quickly of his ferociousness, his base violence, when some raiders had caught up with you and his eyes had gone black – soul leaving him as he did what he had to to survive. You tried not to think about it, about how he surrendered his humanity in those moments of blood and pain and horror and did what needed to be done. He was like another person entirely, you wondered if he even realised it sometimes.

It is all about surviving, though. You see that now, being alone in a way you haven’t been in the last 10 years. The goal now is only to survive, and you could do that with violence like Joels or you could die...or worse. You know in reality he isn’t good, but really what is good now? Does it even really exist? In the time before the outbreak it had all seemed so clear cut but now the morality of good and evil was so blurred and frayed at the edges, the word had so little true meaning to those still breathing. You know he would’ve killed you if he had to, if you had given him a reason, but still it is difficult to be truly scared of his brutality when you know he is the lesser of many, many worse things out there. So maybe you could not call him good, but his heart persists in spite of his wrongs and that matters the most.

Besides, the moments he didn’t have to be steely and cold he happened to be quite nice. Certainly not sunshine and rainbows, but he looked out for you while you travelled together. And even though he was no conversationalist he never once let you feel left completely alone. In his own way, he was kind and caring and full of compassion that he perhaps hid from himself. Every day since meeting you had felt this string of connection forming between the two of you, barely seen thing string but it was there. It felt like you shared something deep, something between your souls that you didn’t expect to find anywhere other than with her. It terrified you.

Every few days, you moved to a new location. He had told you he was travelling north, and you’d said you’d leave him soon but you both knew you weren’t going anywhere, just sticking along for the journey. You had no where else to be after all.

Tonight, you’re staying in another abandoned house in what was once a small, active town. It’s empty, everything is empty, and even though you know no one is coming back to the house it feels like a violation every time you step inside what had once been a home. It makes you shiver, walking through the dark rooms with the dust lining everything, rising and settling as you move through. Once upon a time, not really that long ago at all, the place might have been full of light and dreams and life. And now it is a roof over a head for you and Joel, a place for you to lay your head and pray not to dream or die.

“Hey” you hear him call in that low voice from another room “Boots. Should fit you”

“Score” you make your way to the bedroom, where he’s holding up an old pair of walking boots that, yes, look about your size. They’re tatty but wearable, and your current shoes are in dire need of replacement.

You sit on the bed behind you, sinking on to the soft mattress, and pull off your shoes to try on the others. It feels wrong, but you have to remind yourself no one is ever coming back to claim them. Joel doesn’t seem to have those thoughts, and you envy him for it.

He smiles as you tug on the boots, just a small smile but it sends something jolting through you.

You look at him for a moment, as he busies himself with checking through the rest of the room for any supplies you can use. Joel is handsome, there is absolutely no denying that, even with the dirt and the sweat and the scruff. He looks tired, desperately so, but even so his dark brown eyes have this shine to them, and his smile though rare is a gorgeous thing. You’ve thought about him, of course you have. When you had met you hadn’t noticed it but the more time you spend with him the more you see him. The more you feel for him. He is beautiful.

You feel a pang, and it’s horribly like guilt, as you think of him like that. Is it wrong, so soon after losing someone, to want someone else in your life? It feels wrong, like sin even though doesn’t make sense. You’re relationship with her had been full of love but it had only been platonic, yet it still feels like...like you’re being selfish, letting her go. It feels like a great betrayal and it stabs you through the heart.

In a moment the grief spills like a mighty flood threatening to consume everything in it’s wake. You stop still in tying the laces of the boots as you feel your breathing quicken in panic. There’s a sting in your eyes but know you wouldn’t cry yet. You can’t breathe, but you won’t cry. Can’t cry. You call the tears back in. Those tears are saved for when you are alone; in the moments when you wait for him to come back from a hunt or a scout, when you sit on the forest floor or on a sad, dusty, long-forgotten chair on your own and panic at the feeling of being by yourself. That is the time for misery, not here. Not now.

“You ok?” he turns to you concerned, noticing the change in your demeanour.

You clear your throat and nod, comforted by the way the tone of his deep, sad, voice speak volumes more than his words do. He worries about you, he does. He cares about you, even though he probably doesn’t mean to. It helps, calms you a little.

You’ve both kept your distance for all these weeks, only close when you need to be, but when you don’t answer he comes to sit right besides you. He’s warm. His body is warm. You’ve felt it at night when you share a bed or when he was showing you how to shoot better, but right now he’s just sitting there besides you his shoulder gently bumping yours and you feel the sweep of comforting warmth.

“I’m fine. I just…They’re good boots”

He lets out a grunt of a laugh.

“They must be damn good” he smiles barely but doesn’t press for a real answer.

The grief is a monster that holds you by the throat, and you are relieved he doesn’t make you give name to it.

Joel knows all about not talking about your pain, after all. You feel it every day and every time things get even a little more personal between the two of you as you slowly slowly inch closer together. He’s holding back on something and trying so hard to pretend it’s not there but what he doesn’t seem to realise is it’s always there. In those quiet moment where you’re just sitting, just trying to get through another harsh night.

***

Tonight you agree to share the large bed with the soft mattress in this house that will never again be anyone's home. He never insisted but you agree it’s safer if you’re both trying to sleep that you’re not separated. Usually you’d split a watch shift and sleep alone but you’ve been walking for miles, you’re sore and tired and miserable in your own little ways.

So you share the bed and to being with you keep your ever-dwindling distance as always but tonight...tonight is different. You drift a little closer than before, unintentional but god you just need the comfort of human touch or something right now. Your body begs for it ever since that crashing wave of heartache engulfed you earlier.

You’re filled with the need to erase that feeling. To replace it with something better, something warmer and kinder. It scares you how much you crave to feel his hands on you, how much you want him to wrap his arms around you. It scares you because you’re not even sure if you can face it – intimacy – or the rejection of it.

Still you move closer and you feel him move on his side of the bed...closer or further away? You can’t bring yourself to look.

“Joel?” you whisper after a breath, hoping he’s sleeping.

He kind of grunts a response and you don’t know what to say next so you don’t say anything. The air moves around you in gripping quiet.

“You alright?” he asks in to the silence, the enveloping dark.

He waits for your answer and you lose yourself in his steadiness. How does he do it? How does he manage to appear so composed even when you both know he isn’t? You want to cry or scream or rip your flesh from your bones. Something to stop all this noise in your head.

Silence still and he doesn’t move, doesn’t ask again. You think he’s probably settling back in to sleep and maybe you should just leave him be.

“Does it ever hurt less?” you whisper and your voice shakes. You regret it immediately. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about things like that, he’s never even brought up the past.

He sucks in a breath, quiet, but doesn’t answer and you curl in on yourself. The desire to run floods you, the desire to be anything but you; to be strong and unaffected and more like him. You feel the prickle of tears in your eyes and it makes you hate yourself, hate your grief and your guilt and her for making you hurt like this.

And then you hate yourself even more.

“I’m sorry, darlin’….Wish I could lie to you but..” he sighs and you feel the shift of the mattress as he turns towards you. After a long pause and what you think is a hitched breath you feel the press of his large hand at your waist. “It’ll hurt forever”.

“How…” you force back the tears “How do you live with it?”

“You keep trying” his voice is thick with compassion and something else, “You find a way”.

You just nod and let him pull you closer, his body curving around yours, the weight of his arm over you making you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. You wipe away those treacherous tears and focus on just the feeling of him. It’s more than you had imagined. More than you’d dared to think about. His breath is warm on the back of your neck and it floods every part of you.

He lets out a sigh that sounds like relief. You feel something in him start to relax, just a little.

You want the pain to go away so desperately, at least for this moment. And so does he.

And so, he turns your head gently, thumb under your chin. You feel it leaving you already, some of the anger and pain. His face is above yours for maybe three seconds that feel like an eternity and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, his lips are chapped but it doesn’t bother you. The kiss envelops you and the air around the two of you shifts.

Everything is pulled away.

Even if just for the briefest moment, he helps you let it go.

[inchidentally]

Your favorite moments from Lando and Oscar's challenges?

I HAD TO STOP DOING THIS BC I WAS LOSING HALF MY LIFE REWATCHING THE VIDEOS

so an incomplete but already exhaustive list:

is it just redundant to say Finish the Lyric at this point bc it's confirmed landoscar lore now. specifically the way that Lando keeps wriggling and leaning into Oscar's space is an underrated part but honestly it's the prime example of Oscar watching Lando's every move and Lando playing up to Oscar's attention every way possible. special mention for Lando's immense pride at Oscar singing for the first time ever in front of him.

honestly same for Garden Games - self-explanatory but the sheer squeakiness and giddiness when Lando was (secretly hoping) asking if Oscar would go between his legs while saying Oscaaahhh launched so many fic moments OH and Lando once again being so proud that Oscar did his first Like and Subscribe

Red Flag/Green Flag "I'm a Scorpio and lemme tell you all about it" and "maybe it is me" because Lando uhhhh truly let his flag fly in this one and Oscar had a blast. they do SO much better with challenges that are more freeform because Lando likes to act up and Oscar loves it.

Lie Detector test is SO FLIRTY. the fact that they keep trying to almost touch hands by awkwardly leaning the machine right in the middle when they don't have to. the way it feels like a first date. but the "you've got quite big arms" is the moment for me. and I mean yes, Oscar does have quite big arms.

Who Said What because of the sheer fondness but also "you like having fun huh?" "I do like having fun" - oh and the incredibly fond look Oscar gives Lando when Lando puts his hands in the air to celebrate at the end

Who's Most Likely To precisely because Oscar keeps trying to avoid showing that he already knows every fact about Lando but slips up a lot. my favorite underrated moment is when Lando tells the story about having to sneak back into his own house as a kid (he had told this during a Max stream? or Quadrant? video already) and babes we KNOW Oscar already knew about that one too. oh and let's not forget the Hair Touch. this was also classic bc Max watched it on stream and stood up for Oscar every time.

Iconic Toys - Lando marching Barbie over to Oscar is too fucking adorable, especially the fact that Oscar lets it happen and keeps talking but also began a habit Lando had for a while of stretching over to Oscar's chair for some reason

Build Their own Dream F1 Team - Mahk Wibba is obviously a great moment but my favorite is how Lando keeps butting in on Oscar's choices and Oscar is the dutiful husband saying yes dear and as always Lando getting impatient when Oscar takes too long (even though Lando takes lots of time to answer)

Theory Test - this little moment of "right? right" was so cute bc it was so early in knowing each other but Oscar is already reacting to Lando's 'I'm an absolute little shit' expressions and same goes for Oscar patiently walking Lando through one sentence so patiently and saying "there you go"

Fact or Phish - because we found out Oscar's heritage but also found out that Lando doesn't understand the difference between nationality and heritage - we also had Lando for the first time ever in any McLaren or honestly even Quadrant challenge history, remember something about someone else's past besides his own which honestly was legendary

dear god help my life since you sent this ask anon bc I've basically eaten gone to the toilet worked and watched landoscar challenges and NOTHING else

there are so many more so I might return to this but I have to stop myself for now

(please rb with your own anyone who sees this!)

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @buddierights @bucks118 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @panbuckley @butchdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @prince-buck-diaz @heartbeatdiaz @sibylsleaves

Since I've just got the epilogue left of first son au, I'm not gonna be sharing anything else from it. So have two snippets of my favorite scenes from my fantasy au, red life might stream again, which is the fic that holds my heart

Snippet One:

“What will it be like?” The words fall from Buck's lips, heavy as stone. Eddie’s eyes flick over to him, dark and startled, and Buck hates himself for breaking Eddie out of the peaceful reverie he was in. “Battle,” Buck clarifies. “The only fight I’ve ever been in was the one where–” where Aruna died, he doesn’t say, but the words float in between them thick and ghastly, too heavy to force out. “So, what is it like?” A dark cloud passes over Eddie’s face, completely extinguishing the light and hardening each line. Buck wants to take the words back. He wants to wrap them in his hands and shove them down his throat and do whatever it takes to put light back in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie shifts until he is sitting upright. He leans over, placing his elbows on his knees and cradling the glass in between his hands. His eyes, which had been the same color as the whiskey only moments earlier as softness and the firelight danced in them, are now much darker, like the color of dark chocolate, just as beautiful, just as breathtaking, but now burdened. Eddie gazes into the glass of whiskey as he answers, never once looking at Buck. “It’s loud, crowded, hot, messy. The clashing of metal and the stomps of footfalls and the screaming and the tearing of flesh and bones breaking. It all blends together into this–roar. Each sound echoes in your ears and your chest, the vibrations of it hum in your blood. Even days later you can still feel it, this buzz and itch under your skin. And there’s no real predictability. Bodies just collide with one another creating a writhing mass that is suffocating. It rips the air out of your lungs. Not once in battle have I ever been able to take a deep breath. Which, maybe that’s a good thing, considering it would taste like blood and metal and dirt and fear. Something like that must stain your lungs as surely as the blood you spill stains your hands and your heart and your soul.” Eddie’s words clang through Buck like the ringing of an old, rusted bell. He can feel the weight of Eddie’s experience and memories falling onto his shoulders, heavy and incapacitating. The knowledge that Eddie has endured that, that he has survived all of that, not once but multiple times makes Buck want to rage and shake and break and cry. He wants to wrap Eddie in his arms and never let him go, never let the world hurt him again, never allow him to be forced to exist within such violence. Buck watches, helpless and frozen, as Eddie takes a large gulp of whiskey and laughs bitterly. “You know, it’s not even the actual battle, so much as it is the aftermath. When you’re fighting for your life, everything tends to fade into the background. You’re so focused on staying alive, on making the right moves and avoiding the wrong ones, that you can’t actually feel anything. But then, when it’s over, you’re left there, surrounded by dead bodies, blood seeping into your skin and you don’t know how much is yours and how much is a stranger’s. All of the sounds and fear and smells hit you all at once then, and it never really fades.” He tries to imagine it. He can sometimes still feel the weight of the daemon’s shadows wrapping around him, the pressure of their hits, the paralyzing fear as he laid on the ground watching as a sword aimed for him come down. It hits him like the memory of his leg getting crushed does, in quick flashes that take his breath and make him freeze until he manages to pull himself out. What Eddie is talking about sounds so much more–pervasive, like the shadows in his dreams that poured down his throat.

Snippet Two:

They kiss for what feels like hours, unhurried. Soft and slow kisses, hard and grasping kisses, wet, messy, filthy kisses that set Buck aflame while simultaneously calming him down. Eventually, Buck pulls away. He bites Eddie’s plush bottom lip as he does so, making Eddie gasp and tighten his thighs around Buck’s hips. Eddie rocks forward gently, helplessly as Buck releases the bruised lip, chasing after him. Buck can feel the muscles of Eddie’s thighs shifting against his side, and the soft rocking motion that Eddie keeps up drags their cocks together in a hot friction-filled slide. Buck inhales a sharp breath, awed at the sight of Eddie above him, flushed and panting, his brown eyes blown wide and dark with lust, his cock filling rapidly against Buck. Buck can’t stop the smug, filthy grin that spreads across his face. Eddie chuckles and rolls his eyes fondly. “Don’t go getting too smug, stud. I can feel you too, you know,” he says with a pointed swivel of his hips. “Yeah,” Buck says, voice low and heated. He moves his hands from Eddie’s hips and drags them slowly up his chest, appreciating the hard ridges of Eddie’s muscles through the soft material of his shirt. “You feel that?” he asks, wrapping one hand around Eddie, placing it in the middle of his back and forcing him down. A whimper falls from Eddie’s lips, and Buck swears it's the most delicious sound he has ever heard. Buck reaches up, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s. He rubs their noses together softly before moving to Eddie’s ear. “You feel how hard I am?” he whispers and then nips at his earlobe. Eddie shivers, bearing down on Buck’s lap harder and faster, desperation making his movements sloppy. Buck smiles against Eddie’s cheek, something sweet and bubbly bursting inside him as he feels the way Eddie’s cheek pulls up in a responding smile. “It’s for you. All for you. Only for you.” “Fuck, fuck, Buck–” Eddie slides a hand in Buck’s hair, pulling his head back. He tugs tightly and Buck gasps at the sensation, a sharp lick of fire making its way down from his scalp to his cock. His hips buck up into Eddie, and they both moan in unison. Eddie stills and raises an eyebrow. “You like that,” he says, voice deliciously deep and rough. It’s not a question. “Yeah,” Buck says breathlessly, needlessly.

Tagging: @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @diazass @paranoidbean @bigfootsmom @anxieteandbiscuits @rewritetheending @shitouttabuck @roy-kents @devirnis @try-set-me-on-fire @fiona-fififi @bekkachaos @barbiediaz @transbuck @transboybuckley @thewolvesof1998 @heartshapedvows @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @housewifebuck @oliverstaark @911onabc and anyone else who wants to share something!

[hippolotamus]

Truth or Dare tag game

Thanks for the tags @underwaterninja13 @tizniz @dangerpronebuddie @kitteneddiediaz @spotsandsocks 💖

Which friends/mutuals would you call to hide a body?

@blackandwhiteandrose @stereopticons @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck

How many user subscriptions do you have on Ao3?

122 (☺️ thank you)

Do you have a crush on someone? OR If you're with someone, tell us one thing you love about them.

Always saves me the last bite of something delicious

What does the last DM/text you sent say?

I'm so so curious

List the three friends/mutuals with the best takes

always enjoy @gayhoediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz and am continually impressed, bewitched and bewildered by my wife @bidisasterevankinard

also @steadfastsaturnsrings @spotsandsocks

@daffi-990 absolute queen of sending hilarious gifs and jokes/puns

Share one of your favorite fics of all time

One??? Really??? Rude. I have so many, I'm going to list some underrated favs

i wouldn't call it a mission by ASweeterArrangement (I’m sorry I don’t know their current tumblr)

Spanish Lullaby by blackandwhiteandrose

Play me like a fiddle by JamesPearce911/ @diazsdimples

twist yourself around me by @stereopticons (Schitt's Creek)

red life might stream again by Underhung_Aura / @eddiebabygirldiaz

saving you, saves me. by @tizniz

in my head by @your-catfish-friend

Our Love is Like a Storybook Story (But it's as real as the feelings I feel) by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @bi-buckrights

[WIP] Three Taps for the Lombardi by Wildgirl93/ @wildlife4life

List three of your favorite content creators

I already know I'm forgetting people but...

Darling Talented Wife @lizzie-bennetdarcy her art and words are unparalleled

@loserdiaz another incredible artist

@loveyouanyway @giddyupbuck @theotherbuckley @djdangerlove your edits are phenomenal

@bucksketch @skyhighrollins911 @nymika-arts I’m in constant awe of their work

Write one thing you love about yourself

My dark, sarcastic sense of humor

Which fandom of yours (past or present) has the best fics?

Don’t get me wrong, 9-1-1 has great fics, but damn the Schitt’s Creek fandom has some of the most outstanding works. Like... dude.

Which creation of your own are you the most proud of?

This Lucy Donato artwork

I'm preemptively naming one of my WIPs, you're where I wanna go as a thing I'm most proud of because, even though the words don't happen nearly as frequently as I'd like, it is the most precious and special to me.

Have you ever read RPF?

And written

Tag the mutual(s)/friend(s) most likely to get away with murder

@blackandwhiteandrose @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

Tag the mutual(s)/friend(s) who know(s) the most about you

@blackandwhiteandrose @stereopticons (are we sensing a theme yet?) @diazsdimples @vanillahigh00

Now tag some friends to play!

@stereopticons @blackandwhiteandrose @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz mi amor @bidisasterevankinard

@elvensorceress @bi-buckrights @loveyouanyway @hoodie-buck @wikiangela

@slightlyobsessedwitheverything @giddyupbuck @daffi-990 @vanillahigh00 @bucksbiawakening

@filet-o-feelings @lemonzestywrites @theotherbuckley @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes

@welcometololaland @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[bluejaysandblackbats]

It's That Time Again!!! (1/5)

Through All of Time and Space: Space alien, Thad Thawne, falls to Earth and takes on the form of Bart Allen, making minor changes according to what he saw in orbit... Tim Drake mistakes him for an angel. (yj98/flashfam; TimThad also TimBart; space alien AU)

A Love For All Seasons: Jay Garrick catalogs the first five years of Judy's life. (flashfam/jsa; JayJoan; no powers AU)

magic yellow lightning: AU where Barry keeps Bart while he recovers from a near-death experience. Bart is four years old, and Barry suggests it'd be best for Bart to stay with him on his vacation. (flashfam; BarryIris; no powers AU)

in between seconds: Don goes to the past to speak with his son, knowing his next mission might be his last. They speak to each other between seconds. (flashfam; MeloniDon; canon divergent AU)

Comfortably Wrong, Painfully Right: Bart accidentally sends two similar text messages to Conner and Preston. (flashfam/yj98; KonBart and PrestonBart)

A Joyful Rebellion: AU where Meloni Thawne recalls her time with Digger Harkness. (flashfam/flash rogues; DiggerMeloni)

Nothing But Time: Tim and Thad are roommates and freshman year classmates at Brentwood Academy. Both tightly wound boys struggle to overcome their differences to pass the class's partner assignment. (yj98/batfam/flashfam; TimThad; boarding school AU/no capes AU)

✨Snippets of the fics under the cut to help you guys decide✨

Through All of Time and Space:

The subject’s name is Tim. Bipedal human creature. Non-childbearing. Blue eyes, dark hair, and fewer organs than documented in human literature. I believe something in him is broken. I wonder if he’ll be useful to me in the future despite this. For now, he’s chosen to keep me a secret. I believe this is for his benefit. He doubts his mental faculties despite my original subject, Bart’s declaration of his intelligence. I needed his assistance to assimilate into Earth's culture. 

Tim’s expressions change when he looks at me. His heartbeat slows and his eyes waver as he studies my form. He fails to understand that Bart is my blueprint for appearance and nothing more. I tried to explain it but the explanations only upset him. Human emotion feels complicated. I took the form of someone he had a fondness for, but he looks at me with pain in his eyes and a heaviness in his heart. I apologize to him for it, and he smiles. I don’t understand him. But I want to.

A Love For All Seasons:

Day One: As she lay on my chest, I remembered touching her little head. It was the size of my palm. My heart skipped a beat and found the rhythm of hers. I glanced at Joan as she slept peacefully in her hospital bed, wondering how she could remain so calm. I felt her hands and feet, counting her fingers and toes as tears streamed down my cheeks. How could I ever sleep again? How could I ever relax, knowing her tiny life was in my hands? Her little head that couldn’t fill up my entire palm? Her tiny fragile body with her perfect little face—. She had a full head of hair. It was the last thing I noticed. I spent so much time worrying that I didn’t notice my daughter’s full head of beautiful brown hair. I didn’t notice my eyes and nose and mouth translated onto her little face. It all sank in at that moment. I would love her forever.

magic yellow lightning:

I put his red rubber rain boots on as he sat with his hands stretched out. “Grandpa? Am I magic now?” Bart questioned. 

“Huh?” I asked in reply.

“I got shocked-ed by lightning. Am I magic now?” Bart asked. I smiled as I held his hand. 

There was no harm in letting him see the accident in a fun light. He survived and that was all that mattered. “Yup… And now that we’ve both been struck by lightning, I can tell you all my magic secrets. You can help me make my potions,” I answered. Bart smiled with his eyes shut. “You can open your eyes. If you keep them closed, we won’t be able to tell if you’ve gotten your sight back.” 

“It’s not bad to open them?” Bart questioned. I kneeled beside him, rubbing a smudge on his cheek with my finger. 

“No, it’s not bad. It’s helpful. You’ll start to see lights again, then shapes, and your sight should come back fully in a few days. It happened to me, too. You’re so brave, Bart. I was really scared when it happened to me, but I’m so proud of you. You’ve been such a big boy,” I commended him. He reached up for me to carry him, and I felt his body go limp in my arms. 

“Not seeing makes me sleepy, Grandpa,” Bart mumbled. I rubbed his back, wondering if I upset him. “How am I gonna watch SpongeBob?” I held back a laugh. 

in between seconds:

Time is a lot like origami paper to me. If I use the speed force like fingers, I can fold a straight line into a three-dimensional object. And in those folds are points in time. When Bart was born, I could feel all the creases in time where he touched. So, I searched for a crease in time where he would understand. I kissed my Bart goodbye and ventured through the folds of time until I saw an opening. A pocket in time where he and I could talk. I waited for him to feel my presence in his time. Bart. 

I felt him before I recognized his face. The speed force carries unique energy for all of us. Dawn felt like cool air like the inside of a tornado. Wally felt like the rumble in a thunderstorm. Bart’s energy felt like rippling rays of sunlight, almost like water. Uncontrolled but uniform. 

He met me in a space between milliseconds. “You’re not supposed to be here,” Bart stated. It wasn’t accusatory. It was an observation. My breath caught, and I wanted to cry, but I had an urgency in me that wouldn’t allow it. Not yet. I touched his face, and he gasped. 

“Dad?” Bart questioned as tears streamed down his cheeks. He knew me by energy alone. I nodded. 

“Hi, Bubs… We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Don’t we?” I asked, still holding back my tears as I held his face in my hands. I was pure energy, but he was flesh and blood. My flesh and blood. 

Comfortably Wrong, Painfully RIght:

“Okay… Let me get this right: You have a crush on Kon. You have a crush on Preston. You couldn’t decide which one you wanted to ask out, and you were so baked you sent them the same question. Am I getting this?” Cassie questioned. 

Bart nodded. “Oh, you’re fucked. Like this is better than TV,” Cassie laughed. 

“You’re not helping,” Bart half-shouted before lowering his voice, “They’re both coming tonight. I can’t cancel on Preston because he went through a lot to come here, and—.” 

“Cancel on Conner,” Cassie interrupted. 

“I can’t. How do I tell him I take it back?” Bart replied. Cassie groaned. “Exactly!”

A Joyful Rebellion:

I sat there next to him, hiding in a brand-new HDPE pipe for my father’s new construction project. He pushed his feet out, attempting to roll us, and I laughed. “Hey, amnesia boy… Do you wanna do something bad?” I questioned. He grinned, moving to take off his jacket and shirt while I took a lighter out of my pocket. His eyes widened, and he backed away.

“Kinky… But I prefer my pleasure without pain,” he chuckled. I shook my head and climbed over his lap and out of the tube. He followed me, and I reached down into his pocket for his flask. 

“Wanna see something cool?” I questioned. He bounced his head from side-to-side, and I walked toward the wooden structure of the building and took a swig of his ancient alcohol before spitting and lighting a fire. He hooked an arm around my stomach and pulled me away from the blaze as he laughed. 

He rocked as he walked me back and away with two strong arms wrapped around me. “Good on ya! Fuck that building,” he smiled into my neck. He understood me. Even if it was on a base level, he could accept my actions without any explanation. He didn’t care who my father was. All that mattered was me and what I wanted, and I wanted him. 

“It’s my dad’s,” I replied. He froze, resting his chin on my shoulder. 

“Fuck him,” he whispered. And the weight fell off of me. “Yeah, fuck him. What does he matter? Whatever he did to make you feel this way… Fuck him.” 

Nothing But Time:

Thad sighed as he sprayed the room with an air freshener and opened the window. “God,” Thad groaned as he stifled a gag. He asked for a new roommate, but he didn’t expect someone like that. He covered his mouth and nose with one hand as he looked around in horror at the clothes strewn across the beds and floor. Open soda cans lined the nightstand and dressers. A used bandaid rested on the dresser. He stepped outside, waiting for his new roommate to arrive, growing more and more agitated as time progressed.

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love, part 14

Sorry about Sunday's empty post ☹️ I must've accidentally put a draft template in my queue because I am basically tired and rubbish and life isn’t the greatest right now. Anyhow.... Whoops and really sorry again!

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Eddie POV

When neither Steve nor Robin show up after ten minutes, Eddie begins to freak out. 

He, Hopper and El are still waiting for the car, out of sight among some ferns. Hopper’s getting antsy, muttering beneath his breath, while Eddie’s wriggling like he’s got ants in his pants. Which he genuinely might have, though that’s not what’s bugging him:

“Uuuuh, shall I see what’s taking them so long?”

“You do that,” says Hopper. “What’s going on with that guy? He could barely stand! How the hell could he…”

Eddie tunes out, retracing their journey into the trees, calling Robin’s name then Steve’s. Maybe Steve passed out, and Robin got lost searching? Somehow, he doesn’t buy it. A heaviness slows his feet, and his guts twist sourly. 

They wouldn’t just ditch him. Surely? Surely!?! 

Fifteen minutes later, he winds up where he started: “They’re not back?” 

“What do you reckon?” Hopper’s breathing hard and red in the face. Evidently, he’s been running in circles like Eddie has.

“This is for you.” El nudges Eddie and presses a scrap of paper into his hand. “I think Steve left it.”

“What? Where?” Eddie’s stomach clamps tight again. 

Her eyes stretch very wide. “Fell out of your pack.”

Turning the note over in his hands, his fingers stiffen, as if shrinking from the task, bracing for… something. In the event, he gets a literal slap around the face.

“You make me sick,” Steve wrote.

Eddie’s skin burns with the blow. Wow! This is why I never have and never freakin’ will write love songs.

“What does he say?” demands Hopper.

Eddie scans the note one more time, scrunches it in his fist. “I’d hazard a guess he’s gone back to Hawkins.”

“Goddammit! Robin’s gone with him?”

“I think that’s a safe bet.” A wobble in the back of Eddie’s throat finds its way into his voice. Because, boy, is he still processing.

You make me sick. 

What does that even mean? To be fair, Eddie did make Steve sick. More than once. But why the heck write… that. Would suck less to be dumped without a word. 

Thanks for the overkill, man.

“Don’t you even think about scooting off,” growls Hopper. “Your uncle would never forgive me.” 

Oh yeah. Wayne. The only person who ever actually cared about him.

Eddie plonks his butt down on the ground and waits for the car.

…

Steve POV

“C’mon, giddy up,” says Steve. He and Robin make their way along the muddy bank of the stream towards home.

“Is this some kind of race?” she asks. “While I’d forgotten your former life as a douchebag jock, you’re doing a stunning job of reminding me, and… Uuuuugh!” 

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong this time?” He spirals about, plants his hands on his hips—he’d ditched the sling a while ago. 

She scrubs madly at her lips. “I swallowed a bug! Ugh, ugh, ugh, mega-gross. Eeeeurgh!”

“Maybe if you weren’t complaining, like, constantly, there’d be less opportunities for bugs to get in.” 

“You shut up, shit-bird! I could die of malaria.” She spits into the stream. “Ew! EEEEEEEW!” 

“Ssssh! Hop said the military will be crawling everywhere soon, or—”

“Eddie might hear?” His heart heaves a loaded thud. She looks back sharply, purses her lips. “You know, he could be lost in the wilderness, all alone. Being hunted by evil army thugs. Or bears! Did you think of that when you sauntered off?”

“I did, yeah. I left him a message saying not to follow.” He shades his face from the afternoon sunlight, which shafts between the trees. Also, he can’t look her straight on and say this: “It was kinda brutal, I guess. It was for his own good, right?”

“Oh. Riiiight.”

“You done spewing insects?” he snaps.

“Still heavily grossed-out here. Gimme a minute, ’kay?” She plonks herself on a rock, crumpling forward.

He mops his brow, strips his sweater, and takes the opportunity to check in on his bat bites. They’re still sore, the bandages a bit bloody. Nothing too fresh, though. For the billionth time, his thoughts fly back to Eddie. He hopes Eddie doesn’t get hurt and need healing while they’re apart, and… Holy shit, will he ever see him again? He ties his sweater around his hips, trying to make fumbling hands look casual.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Other than the fact I’m modelling a ‘shoot-me-now-why don’t-you?’ Hellfire Club t-shirt,”—and that I want to punch myself in the face about that moronic note—“I’m good, Robin.”

“You know what? I don’t doubt it.” She brushes her flyaway hair from suspicious eyes. “You’ve gone from death’s door to super-human speed in, oh, I don’t know—feels to me that we’ve been marching for a week. I think it’s been barely an hour.”

“Yeah? We got a long way to go then.” He starts off along the stream’s edge, forcibly slowing his pace. He senses her puffing, panting, then following on his heels.

“Look, Steve, this water goddess who’s pulling you back, whispering in your ear—”

“I can’t actually tell if they’re male or female. Does that matter?”

“Not in the slightest. So, your water… deity. Have they, by any chance, enlightened you as to some kind of divine plan? Or told you exactly where you’re heading?” 

“I got an idea where I’m going, yeah.” To the second place he died, swept away on that blood-red tide—even now, he sees it in his head, like a few frames of a horror VHS stuck on eternal repeat. “Where’s the best place for army generals with dodgy agendas to hang out in Hawkins? There’s never been an army base, apart from—”

“You’re kidding me?” She grabs his elbow, jerking him back. “The Soviet tunnels?” He nods, and her obvious dread has her dropping him like a stone. “No way! I don’t think I can go anywhere near without a major panic attack."

“I’m not gonna march straight in.” He’s already wandering on. Trouble is, now he’s said the idea out loud, it’s become real and terrible. And he’s gotta pretend like his blood’s not congealing to ice. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get in anyhow. I mean, the Starcourt lift is buried under a ton of rubble. I think Hop might’ve know other ways—”

“Oooh, I got a great idea. Let’s go back and ask him.”

“Yeah, real subtle.”

“Steve!” She seizes him again, twisting him around with a furious force. “I know you want to help El, but what can you ACTUALLY DO?” He shrugs before he can stop himself. “Rain? Lightning? How does that benefit us—especially in underground tunnels? Plus you’ve had literally zero time for practice. If we don’t slow down and come up with a decent plan, this is tantamount to suicide.”

“We? Seriously, Robin, I…” His teeth clamp his lower lip. Any moment now, he’ll tell her how terrified he is, how he really, really doesn’t want to get tortured again, let alone die; how the idea of anything bad happening to her is as frightening as any of it. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Steve,” she says, gentler now, though her grip gouges into his flesh. “It’s screamingly obvious you’re not thinking straight. You’ve been ill for days and now you’re in a funk, beating yourself up over Eddie.”

He yanks himself free, glares. “That doesn’t make any dif—"

“Bullshit! Trust me, however ‘mean boy’ your literary masterpiece got, Eddie won’t want you to do anything this dumb. Oh, and your resident gender-fluid angel saved your life. They’re not gonna want you to sacrifice it pointlessly.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. He laughs—not a particularly happy laugh, but not totally miserable either. “You win,” he says, kinda sagging with relief. “You got a plan, smarty-pants?”

She laughs with him, equally edgy. “I say we go to Lover’s Lake, wait till it’s dark. If that’s too dangerous, we find some hidden pool where you can practise whatever badass moves you think you got. Hopefully without the puking. It’ll be a bit like Band Camp. But for Magic. Magic Camp. Okay?”

“You really aren’t gonna be happy until I’m a bigger nerd that any of… Shit!” 

He’s been considering hugging her. Instead, he seizes her sleeve, dragging her down into a deep, wet gully. They land with a splash, crouching low, close. She doesn’t complain, because she’s heard what he has.

The distant sound of barking dogs. Likely, army search dogs.

“Dog barks travel for miles, huh?” he whispers.

“Possibly.” She sucks in a scared breath. “One thing for sure—those sniffy wet snouts can pick up a human scent from the next county.”

“We’re in a stream, Robin. They can’t pick up our scent here, right?”

She crinkles her nose, dubious. “Dogs’ sense of smell is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah? Let’s hope this bunch caught colds or something.” 

He’s now the one clutching her way too tight, and he half-wishes he’d ditched her with a bitchy note too. Though, not quite. She smart; he needs her, and she’s really has gotten him thinking clearer: 

“We head for Lover’s Lake. C’mon.”

…

Eddie POV

When the sound of the car engine finally reaches his hearing, Eddie feels almost nothing.

“Don’t move.” Hopper pitches Eddie a forbidding look and grabs El, keeping them low behind the ferns. 

An owl hoots. Despite the hollowness in his chest, Eddie silently cracks up. Seriously? Top secret government goons can’t think of a better signal than me and Robin? 

Hopper’s grip slides to the firearm at his side. He rises slowly. “Over here.”

Peeping between the foliage, Eddie can make out a limo-style saloon with blacked-out windows. A severe-faced woman in lethal stilettos climbs out. “Chief Hopper, I presume? I apologise for the delay. O’Sullivan’s got men everywhere. We must leave right away.”

Hopper, nevertheless, remains stood well off the road with Eleven, not rushing for the car. And Eddie? 

You make me sick.

Steve’s made it simple for him. He should cut his losses and take this chance of escape. Wayne would want him to. Apart from… Eddie literally can’t. What was it that Steve said? Oh yeah. That he was being stretched in the wrong direction. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, I’m feelin’ it, Stevie. 

Nothing supernatural, nothing hinky. You kill me that bad, Babe—even after you turned meanie-King-Steve and dumped me. Oh, and went back to goddamn Mordor without me! 

Gonna trust you had your reasons, and I’m coming anyway.

He turns on his dirt-clotted heels and flees as fast as he can.

Part 15

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

[mistressheroine]

WIP Whenever

Thanks for the tags @galadrieljones and @im-immortal

Sorry it took me a while to get to this, I've been in a TTPD spiral that has inspired a few new fic ideas.

This is a little preview of Fortnight, the one-shot that has basically taken over my life for the last week.

It’s the sounds that come back first, every movement creates a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. Then the light, everything diffused in bright white before the world returned in screaming colour. Flashes of jumbled memories hit her like a freight train. She’s running through the overgrown grasses, sweat pouring down her back and making her clothes cling to her exhausted body before they throw themselves to the ground. Half empty bottle of red wine on the table between them, his strong hands covering hers as she whispers “I wish I had met you first” right before he leans in closer and she sees the flicker of something in his eyes. Who are you? Sitting on the porch watching that bashful smile illuminate his face in the moonlight and feeling that smile from her stomach all the way to the tips of her toes. Why can’t I remember your name? Mama and Shawn in the front seat of her big brother’s car, the sun streaming brightly through the windshield as she grips the cell phone tightly to her ear with tears of joy and relief rolling down her cheeks. Standing in a dimly lit, water stained hallway as she catches his eye across the space between them and sees his whole body tense while some woman in a police uniform talks about needing someone called Noah. Then blood, so much blood. Blood on the smashed windshield, smoke billowing up into the summer sky. Blood on that police woman’s face, tiny little specks of it as her vision falters and she suddenly feels herself falling.  Her eyes shoot open and the falling sensation stops abruptly. She tries to speak but her throat is so dry the sound rasps out before it dies all together.  The man in the white coat, the doctor, turns from where he was checking the beeping monitor beside her bed and she glances down to his name tag. Edwards. I knew that, I’m sure I did. Dr Edwards looks at her and smiles before he checks her vitals again. “Welcome back. You might feel a little groggy, it’s the medication but you should start to feel a little more human in a day or so. Can you tell me your name?”  She searches through her mind, plucking it out easily and realising she never really forgot what her name was. “Beth… my name is Beth. Beth Greene.”

Tags back for both! :) And new tags for @sasusc @pipergirl17 @auroraroseane @raginglittlehurricane and anyone else who wants to share.

[f1-disaster-bi]

omg wag au is my favorite thing you’ve ever written are you having thoughts about it???!!! it’s genuinely my ideal fic like all the tropes and dynamics that i love r there, and norstappen is my fav it’s my happy place!!!! i love the idea of lando visiting max at a race and engaging in typical wag behavior bc i think he would think it’s fun and he does not hate women and respects WAGS (😠😠) so it wouldn’t be a demeaning vibe but just a very joyful vibe lmao, or max commenting on the quadrant promo posts w/lando being thirsty, or lando having to deal w the bulk of wedding planning bc max is always off working (even tho lando has his own work to do, i can see some possible angst/hurt abt the fact it’s assumed lando will do all the work and lando being stressed about the workload,, but also lando tryna be like it makes sense i have to do all this he’s off jetting about the globe and being super busy, but then also his reality of lando does have to work and wedding planning on top of that he’s stressed and upset but feels like he should be able to manage), i love this au it’s perfect i would love to hear about any thoughts or ideas or future fics or snippets you have for it!!

I absolutely love all these ideas and the love for this au! It's one I have wanted to go back to, along with Accidental Kidnapping, but just haven't had the chance to!

Lando absolutely loves being a WAG when he gets the chance. He loves supporting Max, and aside from that one now ex-wag that told him to get a side-piece for the lonliness, he gets along with a lot of the other partners on the grid. He would do like "day in the life as an F1 wag", and post a reel/tiktok of him getting ready for the track, giving Max good luck kisses or bringing him coffee/red bull, clips of him at the back of the garage watchign nervously during quali and then celebrating. He'd just give it 100% cause he knows Max gives 100% to any events Lando brings him to for Quadrant or gaming tournaments he is in, and he loves him so why wouldn't he be proud to be there?

He'd definitely get some negative comments because "you're shoving your life choices down our throats" or called "a distraction" but Lando ignores it. He just focuses on the friends he's made on the grid and hanging with the other partners like Lily and Alex or messing with Daniel cause Daniel easily became one of his favourite people after he started dating Max.

Max definitely comments quickly whenever Lando posts anything. Normally it's hearts but when Lando posts some more teasing pictures for Quadrant drops or merch, Max might say a little more. Or when Lando feels a little lonely and decides to take one of Max's cars or his boat (again) for a little joy ride, and Max can't help but laught at his antics because he loves Lando and knows this is his way of saying "come home soon dickhead" 😂

As for the wedding planning....Lando would get frustrated by the fact that after the engagement, everyone just assumes it's him doing all the planning because "well, Max has racing, and you're jsut at home most of the time". It's more the fact that people that ask seem to value his career and Quadrant as less than, like it's just a hobby and not something Lando has been tirelessly working on for years, that he doesn't spends hours every day planning content and streams, looking over merch drops and talking to people about profits and subscriber numbers and everything that comes with running a business.

Max does help. He does try pitch in with ideas, or dealing with booking things when he has time between races, because he knows its a lot and he can see Lando stressing, especially when their families seem to be also going with the idea that Lando is planning everything and are constantly messaging Lando about wedding ideas and venues and flowers and party favours or destination.

Seeing how stressed Lando is, Max would absolutely gently tell people to back off and then message Max F to see about Lando's schedule. He sneakily arranges time where he and Lando have a little over a week before they're needed for something, and whisks Lando away somewhere private where they can turn on DND and just relax and destress and where Lando can admitt it's a little overwhelming and that he feels bad bringing it to Max cause Max has a championship to win, but Max would just reassure him that he comes first. Racing is his career, and he loves it, but Lando is going to be his husband and the person he spends his life with and that will always come first to Max