#i have so much anxiety and stress over this that my beard is going white in places LMAO

[exagides]

got an invite to audition for the renfaire

unfortunately they messaged me today and auditions are on sunday. which rolls over my work week. please I've wanted this for years I'm so mad

[quirkless-accident]

Death Is Waiting pt 2

sequel to the one where immortal Danny kills AfO

---------

"You have some explaining to do."

Danny looked between All Might, Nezu, Aizawa, and Tsukauchi. He knew this day would come eventually, where he would have to out himself as the Ghost King, who's older than quirks themselves. But now that it was actually here, he had the all too familiar ball of anxiety making its home in the pit of his stomach.

"My name is Danny Fenton," he tells them. "And I've been dead for three hundred years."

A tense silence flooded the room as the three heroes in question looked at Tsukauchi. He stood there, slack jawed with his notepad at his side.

"He's telling the truth," he tells them.

Danny smiles at him in sympathy as he lets his rings wash over him and change him into his proper form.

Instead of a scrawny teenager, he was almost as tall as All Might and built like a brick house. his shoulders were broad, but not overwhelmingly so. He was wearing his usual kingly garb-a skin tight, black shirt with his logo emblazoned on his chest. Loose, baggy pants that were no doubt armored, and a pair of heavy white boots and durable white gloves to match. There was a crown made of ice floating above his head, and the cape that he wore had the animated night sky moving aimlessly in its folds.

His face was much older, too, though that could be attributed to the beard he had. It was clean and on the shorter side, but it no doubt only enhanced his age. Around his eyes were crows feet, and the tell tale signs of stress lining his face.

He was no doubt the Danny they had all come to love. The nose and jaw came to the same, sharp points, though a little more defined. He still rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick he's apparently had for three hundred years. And he still wore his heart on his sleeve.

He was worried. Resigned in a way that said he had been expecting their immediate disregard of his origins.

"I'm sorry for not coming clean," he told them. His voice was much more echo-y than it had been a few minutes ago, the strong, sturdiness of his voice bouncing off the walls eerily. "But I'm sure you wouldn't have even considered me had I not posed as a student."

"Problem child," Aizawa groaned, as he collapsed into the couch by Nezu's desk. Phantom smiled at him.

"I'm technically older than all of you combined. I think that title officially belongs to you, Aizawa."

He got a glare for his troubles, though it lacked any real heat.

"Getting back to business," Tsukauchi said. "Ghost or not, you killed All for One. That can't exactly go unpunished."

"It can if it's ghost business," Danny told him. "I'm not just some ghost, Detective. I'm the king. And All for One has cheated Death for too many years to simply let him walk. He should have died two hundred years ago."

"If he was such a problem why didn't you kill him sooner?" All Might asked. There was an edge to his voice that Danny placed immediately as aggressive, in a personal way.

That's right.

For Danny, it was easy to forget that ghosts were people once, too. He spent so much time with them, and their otherworldliness that it wasn't something that's been at the forefront of his mind. Not in a long time, anyway. And Toshinori Yagi had lost so much to All for One. Of course he would be hurt that Danny didn't do anything sooner.

"It's a horrible excuse, but it genuinely isn't my job, usually," he starts out. He sees All Might's anger flare up by the tension in his exhausted shouldered, but Danny goes on before he can say anything. "Usually Death takes care of the reaping. I take care of the souls when they've already passed. And those that are particularly nasty get consumed by Death personally. I don't know what kind of quirk he had, but All for One was somehow able to hide from them. Death came to me, and they asked me if I could figure out what the problem was."

"And they didn't realize he hadn't died sooner?" Tsukauchi asked.

"One very crafty, clever soul in a see of quadrillions. Calling it a needle in a haystack wouldn't even be close to a fair comparison. But, Yagi, if it's any consolation, Nana says hi."

All Might's expression was unreadable. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but there was the bob of his Adam's apple and he closed his mouth, preferring silence instead.

"So does that mean you know about One for All, then?" Tsukauchi asked him.

"It's hard not to, when you're friends with most of the past users," Danny shrugged. "Plus, any time All for One had a fight like this, we always got an influx of ghosts. I'm sure when I return to my domain I'll have my work cut out for me."

"If the number of ghosts spike like that why wasn't he noticed sooner?" Aizawa asked tiredly.

"Numbers spike all the time," Danny explains. "Large scale villain attacks happen every few years. Plus there's natural disasters that take thousands out every year. And beyond an overwhelming emotion, ghosts aren't exactly too keen on reliving how they died. They were people, too, once. We're not just some monster made up in the horror movies Kaminari likes to watch."

Aizawa snorts, and takes his answer in stride as he lets Nezu's couch swallow him further.

"So, what now?" Nezu asks. It's the first time he's spoken, though Danny hadn't forgotten that he was there. "How are we going to proceed, Your Highness?"

"Phantom is fine, Nezu," Danny said, waving off the title. "And, well. I'll need to head back to the Ghost Zone now. I can always claim I was from another dimension, or I can come out with the truth. Though I have a whole realm of people to protect. The less spotlight on them the better."

"And Class 1-A?" All Might asked.

"A few of them were already there," Danny answers. "I'm sure they saw and heard everything. Though, they're good kids. I'm sure telling them won't be an issue. After all of this, they deserve to know."

"We're setting up a dorm system," Nezu told them. "They're starting construction as we speak. So whenever they move in, you can tell them then. In the mean time, let's work out a statement for the press, yes?"

[rogersevans]

Quarantine Wedding

Pairings: Chris Evans x Y/n Downey - Chris Evans x Y/n Evans

Warnings: just fluff, wedding (if they make you emotional), implied smut towards the end

Summary: Y/n never planned her dream wedding, but in their back garden, surrounded by their families, during a global pandemic seems pretty perfect to her. apart of the evans’ series.

Sunday mornings were Y/n’s and Chris’s favourite day of the week, the only time they got to stay in bed, tangled in the sheets and each other, going undisturbed from the outside world. Chris currently had Y/n lying between his legs, her back against his bare chest as he rested against the head of the bed.  

Y/n was absentmindedly playing with the engagement ring on her finger, something she had started to do since he put it on, twiddling it with her thumb.

Dodger was at their feet, on his back with his legs spread, snoring away.  

“We should get married.” Y/n mumbled like she was thinking something through in her mind, thumb still playing with the ring.

“We are...” Chris reminded her, placing a small kiss to her temple. “That’s what this is for.” Taking her small hand in his, holding it up to show off the ring as it glistened in the Sunday morning sun.  

“No,” she protested with a giggle, getting up onto her knees and wrapping the sheet around her naked body, turning to face her fiancé. “I mean sooner, like tomorrow.”  

“Tomorrow?”

“Or Thursday if you’re too busy.” Rolling her eyes playfully she scooted closer to him, now in his lap, the sheet now being held up by their bodies, closing the gap. Her hands finding his hair, raking her fingers through it and massaging his scalp. “I want to be Mrs Evans, I want to get married in our back garden, with our families... No one else.” Chris hummed in agreement, letting his hands fall to her hips.  

“You don’t want a big wedding?” Licking his lips, his eyes now open and focused on every detail of her, the small freckle that sat just above the curve of her right breast, the thin chain that sat around her neck with a small diamond C resting in the centre he’d bought her on their second anniversary, the butt dimpled in her chin, something she hated but another thing he adored.  

Truthfully, she didn’t, she never envisioned herself surrounded by 300 people as she said ‘I do’, she just wanted a small, intimate wedding, less than 30 people.  

The pair had been engaged for five months and the pandemic had haltered all of their plans to celebrate, they had various zoom celebrations with their families and friends and when they were allowed to travel back home their hallway was filled with presents and balloons.  

They had managed to keep the news out of the press, wanting to bask in the newness of their engagement privately, it had been blissful but Y/n was becoming impatient.  

Silently shaking her head, she dipped her head her lips just a whisper away from Chris’s, “I just want you, as my husband.” She whispered making Chris’s entire body shiver, and in one swift movement Y/n is on her back with Chris lying on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow and tracing shapes on her are stomach.

She doesn’t stop herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, booping his nose with her thumb, making them both giggle and then running her fingers over his beard, one her favourite features of her fiancé the way it feels against her skin makes her feel alive.  

“Tomorrow.” Was all he replied with, letting his lips fall down to her nose.  

After another hour of being tangled up in one another, the room filled with her soft moans and Chris made love to her, turned on at the thought of her becoming his wife tomorrow. They started organising everything, never leaving the bed unless it was for Dodger, food or toilet breaks.  

They had delivered the news to their families and the cheers or screams (Carly and Shanna) we’re piercing, even though the speaker of their phones.  

Chris booked flights for his family to be able to attend, they were getting in at around 10pm that night. Y/n demanded that everyone be tested before they stepped foot in their home, so she arranged for someone to come out and test everyone. Y/n’s family were due to arrive tomorrow morning, the nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her mom and dad being in the same room again, something she hadn’t experienced in years.  

“Baby, it’ll be fine.” Giving a chaste kiss to her knuckles, “we’re getting married tomorrow.” He mumbled against them, his voice raspy and tired after a long day of planning, all doubt or anxiety about her parents leaving her body just from his touch, his words settled her completely.  

“I can’t wait to be your wife.” Standing to her tiptoes she nudged her nose with his, their gaze still looked before her eyes fluttered shut, breathing him in and relishing in the moment before his lips found hers.  

“What are you going to do about a dress?” Scott asked in a hushed tone, not wanting Chris to hear their conversation, closing the door to their bedroom behind him.  

The house was extremely busy downstairs with everyone completing last minute preparations so Scott and Y/n had snuck away for a quiet moment to get ready, knowing Y/n didn’t function when stressed. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to have Chris at her side, one didn’t move without the other.

But Scott demanded, as the self appointed best man/man of honour, that they be apart for the night before and the day of, still up-keeping some form of tradition.

Unknowingly to Scott, Chris had snuck back into their bedroom last night when everyone was asleep, not wanting to be away from one another with the excitement of the next day bubbling. 

Like children on Christmas Eve.  

The busyness of the day had helped keep them both distracted, not giving them much time to sneak off for a moment of privacy. 

“I bought something a few months ago, thinking ahead.” Y/n rummaged through her and Chris’s shared walk-in closet, plucking a black garment bag which was hidden at the very back.  

Unzipping the bag, Y/n revealed the white, embroidered, floor length cami wedding dress. Scott couldn’t contain his gasp as he softly took the dress in his hands, admiring it silently.  

“Where did you find this?” His eyes not leaving the dress, his fingers running over the patterns.

“ASOS,” she started. “I saw it on there and had to have it, I’m going to wear it with these...” Trailing off as she bent down to pick up her pair of all white, high-topped converses, now beaming from ear to ear.

“You’re joking right?”

“Heels aren’t me,” shrugging her shoulders she took the dress from Scott and disappeared into the en-suite to get ready.  

“What about rings?” Scott asked on the other side of the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed go through the checklist he had created in his mind.

“I think Chris has that sorted.” Was all she replied too focused on not damaging the dress as she slipped it on carefully, not hearing when Scott said something about checking on the decorations and leaving. 

After ten minutes Y/n stepped out of the bathroom to show Scott, her hair now falling freely over her shoulders and the slightest bit of make-up, the dress hugged her figure perfectly as the flowed around her.  

“Wow.” Chris’s voice sounded, making her jump back behind the bathroom door, shutting it, hoping he didn’t see too much. “Baby, what’re you doing?” Walking over to the bathroom door, trying to push it open.

“I thought you were Scott. You’re not supposed to see me!” Y/n cried from behind the door.

“I don’t care, we’re getting married during a pandemic, in our back garden with less than twenty people... So, I think the traditions are out the window.” His hand still on the door knob, letting a breathy chuckle out. “C’mon gorgeous, I wanna see you.” He attempted to persuade her.

Slowly the door started to open to reveal Y/n stood there, holding either side of her dress as she twirled for Chris, giggling as she did.

Well fuck, the sight made Chris’s heart swell, his palms became sweaty as his eyes trailed over her, drinking in her appearance, his smile never leaving his lips.  

Y/n took the opportunity to take in her fiancé's appearance, he was currently in black dress pants, a white shirt tucked into his pants with the top few buttons undone, and a tie hanging around his neck, untied. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“Was gonna ask you to do my tie...” He choked out, his eyes now meeting hers.  

Without word she took a step forward and began fastening the last few buttons before making work of his tie, his hands found her hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs as he watched her intently.  

“You look...” He started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Handsome, you look insanely handsome. I’m lucky you’re about to become my husband.” Her eyes still fixated on the tie, her tongue dragging across her bottom lip as she concentrated. Once satisfied her fingers smoothed out his collar and tie. “Now go, before Scott sees you in here. Anyone would think he’s the one getting married.” Both chuckling softly.  

With her command Chris didn’t move away, just one step closer to her, closing the gap between them, his hands now cupping her cheeks, both looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds before he dipped his head down to kiss her.  

This kiss wasn’t like all the others he had sneaked in the past twenty four hours, it was different.

Y/n’s mind casting back to the night Chris told her he loved her for the first time, the kiss matching that. It was filled with adoration, passion and love, making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer against her chest.  

“Go,” Y/n mumbled against his lips after a few seconds, pushing his abdomen. “I’ll see you down there handsome.” Giving her one last kiss before walking away, leaving her now by herself as she jumped up and down in their bathroom, the tiniest squeal leaving her lips.  

The next half an hour rushed by so quickly, now the pair were stood at the bottom of their garden in front of their families, their garden littered with fairy lights hung above them, their families stood watching proudly. 

It was simple and perfect, no fuss. 

Scott was ordaining the ceremony something Chris and Y/n weren’t aware he could do until last night. Too scared to know the reason why he decided to become an ordained minister, “you never know when you might need it” was all he said. 

“Y/n,” Chris started, his hands shaking a little. “I can’t imagine my life without you, since you came barging into it 22 years ago. From the very first day of filming back in 2011, I knew you were it for me, even if I didn’t know it.” That caused everyone to laugh, “I love how you’re always there by my side, how you always tie my tie... Even if I know how to do it myself.” Y/n gasped shocked at his admission, laughing along with everyone. “At first it was a tactic to be near you, but the look of concentration you have every time, drives me crazy.” He laughed as she shook her head, beaming from ear to ear. “You make me the happiest man alive every day, even when you’re beating my ass at guitar hero. I love how passionate and impatient you are... Today being an example of that.” Everyone laughed again, he reached for her cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife... I love you.”

Y/n was speechless, wiping away the tears that continued to fall, it was like he’d winded her with his words, her body tingled with excitement and love as the feeling of becoming Mrs Evans drew closer.

“Chris,” she started. “You are one of the most amazing, crazy talented, men I’ve ever known, I’m in constant awe of what you’re capable of... Seriously, it's annoying... I will make it my life mission to find something you’re not good at.” Chris’s loud laughter now echoed over your families laughs, his hand falling to his chest. “Your laugh, is my favourite sound of yours and if I could play it on repeat I would, but I’ll just settle for making you laugh with my terribly bad dad jokes-”

“Oh no!” Chris groaned at her statement, making everyone laugh again.

“Our love consumes me, I knew from the moment Lizzie told me you liked me that I had to have you, no matter what. Everyone constantly tells me how intense our love is, but it wasn’t until someone described it perfectly to me that I understood,” Y/n took the opportunity to side eye Scott, recalling the night they had a very drunken conversation about her relationship with Chris, making Scott laugh. “We’re so in sync with one another, you move, I move, we could be in a room filled with people, on opposite ends and we would still find each other without looking. Being with you,” she had to stop to compose herself, not wanting to cry during her vows. “Is like living a dream come true, especially during the simple times, no plans, no noise, just us doing nothing.”

Chris didn’t hide his tears as they freely fell, the sniffles from everyone, including Robert could be heard now.

After a few more words from Scott, once he calmed down, the cheers erupted as their lips connected, their first kiss as husband and wife. Chris pulling her flush against him, deepening the kiss. “I got you, Mrs Evans.” He whispered against her lips, making her giggle.  

The rest of the night was spent with their families, basking in the events of the day as they ended the night with the fire pit lit, gathered around it. Y/n was still in her dress and converse clad feet, her hair now tied up as she sat on the floor in between her husband's legs. 

She was currently admiring her wedding band, it was rose gold, slim and had diamonds wrapped around it, fitting perfectly against her engagement ring. reaching for the hand that rested on her shoulder, now playing with his wedding band, his band was thick, black and had a thin, rose gold strip around the centre. 

Chris had purchased them the day he bought the engagement ring and had hidden them in his sock drawer in his bedside, his hiding spots were getting better. 

“I’m so happy for you guys.” Robert softly whispered, puling his daughter into his arms holding her tightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re married!” 

“I know... I have to live with a boy!” She quipped back and Robert’s body started to vibrate with laughter, her cheek resting on his should as they continued to hug, not wanting to let go.

“My baby...” Now cupping her cheeks, giving his daughter one last look of pride before letting go. “You’ve always been my favourite child.” He whispered, Y/n knew he was joking but she laughed in agreement anyway. Out of her other three siblings they both shared a close relationship, Y/n was his saving grace when he was younger, having her at a young age bonded them. 

“Chris, I can’t believe you’re my son now... How weird.” Chris smiles broadly at the term son, instead of son-in-law, he knew Robert classed him as part of the family and not because he had to. "Welcome to the family, legally.. Let’s face it you’ve always been apart of this family.” Sharing a quick embrace before slipping past the newlyweds to speak to Lisa.

“Do you want to dance?” Chris bent down to whisper in his wife's ear, his hands finding her hips and back pressed against his chest, only to have her hum in response. 

Guiding her to an open spot in the garden, taking his hand in hers and spinning her so she was now facing him. His large hands resting on her hips whilst her hands snaked around his waist, the music that played from the speakers in the house guiding them. “You’re my wife,” stating softly, his lips finding her forehead.

“That’s right Evans,” the nickname now sounding futile with both being Evans’. “You’re stuck with me, no getting out this.” Her index finger was pointing between them before wrapping back around his neck. 

“Never.” 

It was nearing 2am when Chris and Y/n climbed the stairs to their bedroom, once the click of their door shutting was heard she reached behind trying to unzip her dress but struggled due to her tired state, contemplating just sleeping her dress.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband as he guided the zip down slowly, leaving slow, wet kisses on shoulder, using his callous fingers to brush the straps of her dress off her shoulders, the dress pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties.  

“My wife, you’re stunning.” He said lowly, the only light in the room was the light of the moon streaming through the windows. Y/n turned to face him, starting to unbutton his shirt which was now untucked, tie long gone and the top two buttons already undone, his collar bones and tattoos poking out through his shirt.  

Pushing the shirt off of him, she traced his tattoos with her fingers, a hiss of pleasure escaping from his throat, making him tighten the grip on her hips she didn’t know he had.  

The C necklace glistening in the moonlight.

That’s how they stood for a few minutes, their eyes never breaking from one another, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her hips.  

Y/n guided her new husband to their bed, the back of his legs hitting the edge and he sat down closely followed by her straddling him. “Mr Evans,” her voice laced with arousal. “I do believe, you’re wearing one too many items of clothing.” She tsked, her finger trailing down his abdomen, his muscles twitching when she did, effortlessly flicking the button of his pants open.  

“That can be fixed... Mrs Evans.” He purred in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  

[arrantsnowdrop]

Informalities - Éomer x reader

Request:  “Eomer x reader fic where the reader is from our world and Eomer listens to the stories the reader says of our world and he thinks that it is a grand place and so when they are finally getting together, Eomer feels kind of insecure cuz he feels he'll never live up to the reader's "standards" and the reader says that they are insecure because he is a prince and she has nothing"

Tags: @thewhiteladyofrohan

Warnings: mention of battles and death, about 2,200 words

A/N: Hoppy Easter lads and lasses, we are back from a many month writing hiatus. Hope y’all enjoy, I’m glad to be here :)

You genuinely had no idea how you’d ended up in Middle Earth.

It was one of those fever dream situations - one moment you were falling asleep in your own bed, and the next you were waking up at the bottom of a tree, surrounded by many bearded and concerned looking men.

Of course you’d been startled and so, so confused, but it had only taken you a few moments to recognize the characters from one of your favorite stories, and then you’d fully accepted your new reality.

By the time you first encountered the fellowship, they had already lost Gandalf at Moria and passed through the realm of Lothlorien. They were traveling in their fancy elvish boats when they’d spotted you from the river. You were extremely grateful for that - who knows what would’ve happened if the Uruk-hai tracking them had found you first.

Boromir and Gimli were quite intimidated by your presence, having been brought up in traditions that designated men for warrior roles. Aragorn and Legolas were much more accepting (female elves were just as badass as any male elf or man, and both of them knew that). The hobbits had all taken an immediate liking to you, and you’d been devastated to lose them during the Uruk ambush. Of course, this only gave you a stronger drive to track them into Rohan with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

It was there that you met Éomer for the first time, after his riders surrounded your small group of assumed invaders.

He was handsome, there was no denying that, and you found his decision to protect Rohan even in exile extremely brave. He’d been startled by your presence (a group including a dwarf, an elf, AND a woman must’ve been an oddity for him), and thus had talked primarily with Aragorn, but you could not shake the way his eyes locked with yours as he offered you his condolences about Merry and Pippin.

You figured you’d never see the handsome blonde again, glumly complaining to Gimli about it several times throughout Rohan.

Thus, you’d been overjoyed when he arrived at the Battle of Helm’s Deep - half because he was saving your asses from almost certain death, and half because you’d get to see his face and hear his voice again.

You followed Aragorn after the battle, searching for Gandalf in the celebrating crowd. It did not take long, with his bright white robes being quite easy to pick out.

“Gandalf!” you screamed gleefully, weaving between the people around you to get to the smiling wizard.

“It is good to see you, (Y/n),” he said as you embraced him.

“Oh, it’s even better to see you,” you said.

“I have to agree with (Y/n),” Aragorn said from behind you. You pulled back, allowing Gandalf time to greet your friend, and quickly caught sight of a familiar face.

He had been laughing with some other men when his gaze fell on you, eyes locking with yours for the second time. You smiled a bit and offered an awkward wave, face flushing as he flashed you a smile.

“Ah, (Y/n), this is Lord Éomer, current heir to the throne of Rohan,” Gandalf said, noticing the two of you staring at each other.

“We’ve met before,” he said, walking towards you

“Indeed we have,” you replied as he stopped just in front of you. “It is a pleasure to meet you, oh-future-king,” you said, bowing a bit.

You could hear Aragorn slap his forehead from behind you and grinned.

“She’s not from around here, so do forgive her manners,” Aragorn said.

“Or lack thereof,” you added, straightening yourself once more and looking at Éomer’s amused face.

“I appreciate the informality,” Éomer grinned. You spun around and pointed at Aragorn.

“See? Someone appreciates me,” you accused.

You were extremely happy to meet Éomer. It’s not that you didn’t adore Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli, but they were also the only people you’d been around for quite a while. It was exciting to make a new friend, especially one so handsome and charismatic.

The two of you spent the entire ride to Isengard delving into each other’s lives, from childhoods to secret fears to favorite foods. Obviously, the two of you had led quite different lives, and he was fascinated by the world you had come from.

“These cars you speak of, are they like horses?” he asked.

“No, they’re much faster,” you replied. “They’re more like a carriage, since they have space for several people inside.”

“But it moves without a horse?”

“Yup!”

“Who steers in then?”

You were grinning ear to ear at the look of bewilderment on his face.

“One of the people inside,” you answered. “There’s a wheel to control which direction you go and pedals on the floor to control the speed.”

“That sounds terribly complicated,” Éomer said, brows furrowing.

“It’s not too bad,” you said, “I was even pretty good at it.”

Éomer shot you an alarmed look.

“You used to steer these...these things?” he asked incredulously. You laughed and nodded. “You have to be taught how to do it,” you explained. “It’s not like they throw you into it without any preparation.”

“It still sounds extremely dangerous,” he decided.

“I did break my arm in a crash once,” you said thoughtfully. He gasped.

“You can crash them?”

Éomer had quickly become one of your favorite people, which only made the continuous battles over the fate of Middle Earth even more stressful. You were terrified he would ride into a fight and never return, and even more terrified of what that meant.

You’d searched for him for hours after the Battle for Minas Tirith, heart growing more and more heavy as you continued. Every person you asked had no idea where he was, and by the time you returned to the White City, your hands were shaking with anxiety. Finding him outside of the makeshift infirmary that had been set up was the most relieving moment of your entire life.

You had gasped the moment you caught sight of his all too familiar golden hair, letting out a desperate sob as his eyes met yours, him rushing over to you and wrapping you in his arms. Your embrace was filled with all the emotions both of you were too terrified to say aloud.

“I thought you were dead,” you murmured into his chest, eyes wet and lips trembling.

“It will take far more than a few Oliphaunts to kill me,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You wanted nothing more than to tell him in that moment how much you loved him, but decided against it. You knew the fighting was not over, the last thing you needed was for him to be distracted by you during battle and find himself impaled with some pointy object. If you both lived to the end of this, you would tell him then.

But then you were too scared to do it.

Of course you had won - the ring had been destroyed, Aragorn had led the crusade against the forces of Mordor, and Gondor was preparing to crown its long lost king. Everyone was staying in Minas Tirith until the coronation, but then everyone was leaving. All your friends would be heading home, but you did not have one of those here in Middle Earth.

Aragorn had already offered you a place in Gondor’s leadership, and thus a permanent residence with him, and the hobbits were more than happy to escort you back to the Shire with them, but you knew both of these options would separate you from the one person you wanted to be with.

All you wanted was to follow Éomer back to Edoras, but you were unsure if that would be best for him. He was about to be crowned king of Rohan, and probably had many ladies of Rohan’s nobility lined up to rule with him. It was selfish for you to think you had any right to his heart, especially when his duties and responsibilities were so much more important than an outspoken, title-less woman.

So you distanced yourself from him. You avoided him whenever possible, taking the longest routes you could to dinners and meetings. You tried not to be affected by his desperate gaze, or the way he called for you as you rushed out of a room. It hurt you more than anything, but you knew it would be better for him in the long run. You succeeded with your plan until the night before Aragorn’s coronation.

You’d been walking home from dinner (a huge, pre-celebration feast that qualified as a celebration itself) through an old, twisty corridor. You opened the door to your room only to see Eomer sitting on your bed, a worried look on his face.

You jumped slightly, startled by his presence.

“What are you doing in here?” you said breathlessly. “This is totally an invasion of my privacy and absolutely uncalled for at such a late hour, you almost gave me a heart attack-”

“Forgive me,” he interrupted, standing up from the bed, eyes fixated on you. You both stood there in silence for some time, the closest you’d been to each other for the first time in days.

“I missed you,” he murmured finally. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You looked down at your feet and nodded. You did not want to see the look of betrayal that he was undoubtedly wearing.

“Why?” he whispered. You winced at the sound of hurt in his voice.

“You would not understand Éomer, but I promise it was in your best interest,” you replied.

“You are my best friend, (Y/n), how could ignoring me benefit me?” he asked incredulously. You looked up at him, trying to ignore the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Éomer-”

“Please,” he cut you off desperately, slowly walking towards you. “I have missed you more than you could possibly imagine.” “That is the issue,” you whispered, closing your eyes to avoid looking at him.

“How is that an issue?” he begged.

“Because you are about to be a king,” you shouted, eyes still closed. “And you will leave after tomorrow with everyone else, back to Edoras, where new responsibilities will be awaiting you and demanding your attention.”

“How does that have anything to do with you?” he asked, voice sounding a lot closer than before. You gulped, sensing him right in front of you.

“I would be a distraction,” you replied meekly. Éomer did not reply, but instead reached to grab your hands with his own, you gasping as he pulled you into his chest.

“(Y/n), you are not a distraction, how could you-”

“I do not want you to leave me here,” you interrupted, resting your forehead against him. “I am so scared I’ll never see you again, but your life is about to be so much more important than me.”

“I do not want to leave you here,” he said, wrapping his arms around your back. “I want you to come with me. You’re my best friend, how could I abandon you?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” you whispered, “even if I were physically with you, that would not stop me from...from…”

You stopped and bit your lip, terrified of the confession about to pour out of you. Éomer moved his hand below your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

“Stop you from what?” he whispered intensely, eyes searching your face desperately. You exhaled breathily.

“I love you, Éomer,” you said softly, watching as his expression softened. “So, so much.”

He blinked once, twice, registering what you had just said, and smiled, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you more than anyone, (Y/n),” he murmured.

“But, surely there are women back in Rohan who are far more suitable for-”

“(Y/n),” Éomer said seriously, pulling away to look you in the eyes once more. “I have the power to be with whomever I choose.”

“But why would you choose me?” you asked meekly. Éomer chuckled, brushing a stray bit of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear tenderly. You leaned into his hand slightly, relishing in the way he cupped your face.

“I was more nervous that you wouldn’t choose me,” he admitted. You look at him in confusion.

“How could I not choose you?” you asked.

“You’re much more interesting than I am,” he shrugged. “You come from a world that is so much more exciting than mine, and the last thing I want is for you to settle for me.”

“Éomer, you stab people with swords and ride horses all day. And live in a castle. That is insanely cool,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “Of course I choose you.”

“And I choose you,” he murmured, pulling you closer to him. “Please come home with me.”

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding fervently. “Yes, please.”

Éomer grinned, tilting your face up to his once more and leaning down to kiss you. Your heart leaped, hand reaching up to grab the back of his head to intensify the kiss. He moaned softly, bending down to pick you up and twirling you around. You giggled and pressed your nose against his.

“I’m thinking we make my coronation far less formal than Aragorn’s,” Éomer said, “as much as I’ve been loving these dinners, I don’t think I could stand hosting them.”

“You know I’m fantastic at informalities,” you replied.

[mooniefics]

— in the grand scheme of things [ 1 ]

pairings : zeke jaeger / reader, referenced eren jaeger / reader

word count : 8.4k

tags : unhealthy relationships, relationship discussions, implied cheating, drinking, break ups, eventual smut, praise kink, mutual infidelity, dubious morality, love triangles

warnings : contains nsfw, sexual coercion, intoxicated reader, rlly toxic behavior

summary : you and eren hadn't been doing the best these past few months, and no one that you knew seemed to have any answers for you, or pointers in the right direction. who better to offer you some sound, insightful relationship advice than his older brother. or so you thought.

note : i apologize if the text convoformatting is a little yucky, i pinky promise it looked wayy better on ao3 (//▽//)

— originally posted 1 / 20 / 21 on ao3 —

you would reluctantly admit that you and eren had been experiencing a few issues as of recently.

it was the run-of-the-mill turbulence: ignored texts and phone calls, unexplained hostility, hanging around with your shared group of friends—more his than yours—without you. you'd been able to ignore it around midterms, being so busy with studying and getting all your family affairs in order for the end of the year that you didn't have much time to worry about how he hadn't bothered to respond to your "happy new year, baby!!!" message you'd sent days ago.

but winter break came and went with no reply from him, you spent christmas and new years in the company of your parents, who couldn't seem to keep quiet about asking about "that jaeger boy". you couldn't really blame them for their questions, you'd been friends for nearly four years now, in a relationship since the night of senior prom, even followed each other to the same university with a few other high school friends just to stay close. the summer that preceded your first year of college was so full of love and life, celebrating your newfound freedom that you had always thought would come with adulthood. but you supposed that it was just the hopeless romantic in you talking, it was called the honeymoon phase for a reason.

consulting his best friends about his sudden detachedness yielded nothing—mikasa had never held much besides poorly hidden disdain for you, and all armin had to offer was nervous glances over to the uninterested girl as he assured you that he was probably stressed about his classes, or had another disagreement with his mother about his choice of major, just excuse after excuse for his friend's behavior. you were feeling desperate. you had little desire to break things off, to throw away nine months of commitment despite how your relationship had soured. you were in love with him, and he hadn't explicitly expressed that he wanted to end things, just left you out of the loop for a bit, nothing that couldn't be fixed with a nice long conversation over dinner, right?

but how could you reach him if he wouldn't answer your calls, if his friends only seemed to want to placate you rather than actively help, you felt like there was nobody to turn to—except him.

zeke, the ever-elusive older brother. you'd met him upon one of your first visits to eren's house, a brief, somewhat awkward exchange when you'd ventured into the kitchen by yourself to grab a few things for your friends in the living room. he'd startled you when you turned out of the pantry to find him standing by the fridge, eyeing you and your armful of chip bags curiously, only wearing a pair of thin-framed glasses and grey sweatpants, revealing the sculpted expanse of his muscular arms and torso, an unopened can of beer in his hand.

"you one of eren's friends?" he'd asked, cracking open the tab and taking a generous gulp.

you replied with a quick nod, adding a sheepish "yup..! everyone else is in the living room, i'm on snack duty" with a shaky smile.

he chuckled, shaking his head and running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. "typical eren. 'm zeke, good to meet you."

he didn't bother to ask your name before he disappeared into the adjacent hallway, the distant sound of a shutting door finally letting you release the breath you didn't know you'd been holding. that was how a majority of your exchanges went over the last few years, the longest conversations you'd had was when he'd offered to help you on your physics homework more than a couple times, his number was only in your phone because of the one time you'd worn the teeshirt of a band he happened to like and he wanted to send you a playlist. there were plenty of things you didn't know about him, but he was eren's older brother—half-brother, if you wanted to get technical—and after seeing the deflective nature of his closest friends, zeke seemed to be your next best option.

so now you were here, nervously standing at the door to his new apartment, dressed nicely so you didn't risk making a bad impression after not having seen him all these months. he seemed sympathetic over the phone when you'd called him last night, not minding how you'd contacted him out of the blue or that it was only for the sake of asking something of him, inviting you to discuss things more thoroughly over dinner. you didn't know whether he'd extended a helping hand for his brother's sake or your own, but you would be grateful no matter what if he gave some sound advice and a few words of reassurance.

you were startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the lock unlatching, the door swinging open to reveal zeke, smartly dressed in a pair of dark jeans and dress shirt, the top few buttons left undone. "sorry if i kept you waiting," he said, stepping aside to allow you in, "dinner's just about ready."

"no worries." you replied quickly as you slipped off your heels, hoping the heat warming your face wasn't flushing visibly on your cheeks.

he had always been a good-looking guy, an effortless sort of attractiveness that was only magnified by the relaxed yet perceptive air he carried. but he'd changed since that day you first met—his shaggy hair had been trimmed back into a shorter, more manageable style, the usual scruff of facial hair had grown out into a well-maintained beard, frames that similarly complimented his handsome features perched on the bridge of his nose. flashing a polite smile, you stepped into the apartment, trying not to let your anxiety get the better of you as the door was shut and locked behind you.

"nice place." you mused, peering about at the spacious, well-decorated interior as you followed beside him.

"thanks, honestly i'm glad i could find someone that was willing to split the rent," you felt nerves stir in the pit of your stomach, the thought of having to meet the other tenant leaving you feeling a bit uneasy. he turned down to glance at you, grey eyes glinting as he offered you an easy grin, "you don't have to worry about my roommate, i kicked him out for the night so you didn't feel uncomfortable."

you were sure the blush on your face was evident now, biting at the inside of your cheek as you both entered into the kitchen. "oh.. thank you. sorry if i caused any trouble, i know this was kind of last minute."

"no worries." he echoed your earlier sentiment, motioning you to the table just beside the kitchen before he returned to the skillet on the stove. the warm scent of coriander and turmeric filled the air as he lifted the lid and set it aside on the counter, stirring the simmering contents within. "hope you like curry," he said over his shoulder, turning down the gas on the stove and opening up the cabinet beside him to pull out the plates, "i didn't make it too spicy, just in case."

"i don't really eat it too often, but it smells amazing."

you felt yourself starting to relax into the chair, shedding your jacket and hanging your purse on the side of the chair as you watched him scoop a generous portion of white rice onto each plate. it was just you two here, he was willing to help, and you were incredibly grateful for his hospitality.

you pulled your phone out of your pocket to fiddle with while he was still plating the food, aimlessly tapping through your apps to kill some time. your text to eren from a few days ago still read "delivered", and you felt a slight twinge prick in your chest as you closed out of your messages, opting to scroll through your feed on one of the few social medias your friends had convinced you to download. it was relatively safe to look there, seeing as eren didn't post all that often, if at all, but seeing everyone your age, people that you knew from your classes posing with their boyfriends and girlfriends and going out on excursions with their peers made you feel jealous. you couldn't have imagined what you had done to deserve such a shitty situation.

your thoughts were interrupted by the dull clink of the plate being set before you, the clatter of silverware following as he rounded over to the opposite side of the table to place his things down. you switched your phone on silent just in case, tucking it back into your purse and sitting up a bit straighter in your chair. but instead of sitting down, he wandered back over to the kitchen, reaching up into a different cabinet to fetch two glasses.

"i'm assuming talking about your relationship troubles isn't the easiest, so pick your poison. i've got gin, tequila, beer—" he listed off the myriad of drinks he had at his disposal, pausing to throw you a glance. "but i honestly pegged you as a vodka kind of girl."

you felt a nervous giggle bubble up in your chest, fingers twisting in your lap, feeling more than juvenile as you replied. "i'm still under twenty-one, so i'm not really much of a drinker.."

"come on, you're in college now," he said, pulling a bottle of vodka from one of the lower cabinets and stepping over to the fridge, "most of the people hosting parties don't give much of a shit whether you're of legal drinking age or not, and i've got a feeling that you really don't either. i know i got shit-faced plenty of times during my freshman year."

you mentally debated the principles of accepting, he was right in saying that you had attended plenty of parties where you drank with your friends, suppressing a grimace at the memories of you throwing up in a stranger's bathroom while an equally drunk historia or sasha held your hair back. but those times you'd been looking to get wasted, drinking in this context would just be for the sake of loosening up, easing the sting of ripping off the metaphorical bandaid that was the thought of your relationship slowly crumbling right before your eyes.

"you're right," you relented, much to his delight, "and, yes, i guess i am a vodka kind of girl."

you didn't appreciate how charming the grin your words garnered was, fixing your eyes on the steaming plate of chicken curry in front of you before you could embarrass yourself. you were here to figure out how to smooth things over with your boyfriend, not oogle at his unnecessarily attractive older brother.

"here, something simple to start you off." he set down the glass on your place mat, finally taking his seat across the table, "there's plenty of ginger beer and limes in the fridge, and plenty of vodka still left."

you stole a glance at his drink. "whiskey, on the rocks.. how refined."

he gave a low chuckle at your sarcasm, taking a slow sip. "it's an acquired taste, i wouldn't expect someone your age to appreciate it." that was right, he was older than you, significantly older than you. just because you were legally an adult didn't mean your life experience could crop up to zeke's.

"old man." you murmured, a small smile perking up at both of your lips as you spooned some of the curry and rice into your mouth, "wow, thi' i' really gu'!" you managed to speak around the mouthful of food, grey eyes watching you intently with an obvious bemusement from across the table.

"i'm glad you like it. guess those years working at a couple restaurants around town weren't a complete waste." he said, tasting his own bite of the food, "cumin's a little off, hope you can forgive me for that."

"are you kidding me? this exceeds restaurant quality. i can barely put eggs in a pan without burning the kitchen down."

you were nearly a quarter through your plate already, setting your utensil down to take a sip of the drink he'd made for you. it was simple, bubbly, a nice mix of ginger, vodka, and lime to cool off your tongue. you could barely taste the alcohol, which somewhat eased your worries of becoming a drunken mess that required him to babysit you for the rest of the night.

you were both silent for a moment, the air occupied with the scrape of spoons and quiet sips from your respective glasses, and you were beginning to dread ruining such an easy mood with the topic of your emotional turmoil. but zeke beat you to the punch, clearing his throat as he settled his gaze onto you.

"so, you and my brother. you wanted to talk about that, right?"

you allowed yourself to frown a bit, taking a generous sip of your drink before you answered. "yeah. i don't really know where to start.."

"when did you first start noticing problems?"

you felt somewhat eased by his calm tone, bright grey eyes that were entirely focused on you, wordlessly reassuring you that you could trust him with this. you'd come this far, there was no point in trying to back out now.

"well, i guess it was around november." you began, scraping all of the food left onto one side of your plate to keep your hands occupied, "we'd all met up for halloween, me and eren and mikasa and armin—" you prattled off the other names of your friends, even some that you weren't sure he knew from your high school days, but he nodded along all the same. "and we all had an amazing time. got all dressed up, wandered around campus and crashed in on the frat parties, drank ourselves stupid, like you said. and at one point i just completely lost track of eren, and i didn't see him or anyone else besides sasha, connie, and mina for the rest of the night. after that, he kind of dropped off the face of the earth, wouldn't pick up my calls or answer my texts, always told me he was busy when we ran into each other on campus, and he wasn't at his dorm most of the time i came to try and check on him."

by the end, you'd finished off your drink, zeke wordlessly getting up to grab everything to pour you a new one without you asking. you were more flustered at his attentiveness, forcing yourself to chalk it up to him being an excellent host as he returned with a freshly opened can of ginger beer, pouring it over the ice in your glass and adding at least two shots of vodka, finishing it off with half a lime before returning to his seat. had he put that much alcohol the last time?

the thought slipped your mind as he swallowed a few spoonfuls of curry and spoke. "hmm.. so everything was going just fine, and then all of a sudden radio silence?"

you nodded, working on your remainder of rice, watching his face take on a pensive expression.

"if i'm being honest, eren has always been a little shithead." you suppressed a giggle at that. "he's rude, he's immature, and most of all, he's a terrible liar."

"mhm, the ears are a dead giveaway." you added, earning a grin over the rim of his glass.

"exactly. my stepmom— his mom always called him on his shit with that." you shared a moment of laughter at that, the memory of how defensive he would get over in when you'd first pointed it out making you feel a distant nostalgia creeping in the back of your mind.

you remembered how easy the days where all you had to worry about was catching up on all your late work and forcing yourself to learn about nintendo games for the sake of impressing your crush. now on top of school, you had bills and parties and shitty professors and an even shittier situation with your first long-term relationship that had started off so well yet devolved into feeling like you were a million miles away despite living on the same campus.

"so, eren is a shithead. and a terrible liar. go on." you took a long sip of your drink, unable to distinguish the warmth of the alcohol from the warmth of the curry in your stomach.

"well, he's just— how do i say this..." zeke murmured the last bit more to himself than you, pushing up his glasses on his nose and scratching the back of his neck, "he doesn't know a good thing when he sees it." you felt your heart skip at that. "like that mikasa girl, her and eren have been friends since grade school, and never once in all those years has eren ever acknowledged the way she's fuckin' head over heels for him." the mention of mikasa made you feel a sharp pang echo through your chest, suddenly feeling much more disheartened than before, especially at the mention of her perpetual affinity for him.

"but, i do have to give the kid some props," he continued, taking a sip of his whiskey, "at least he had enough of a brain to realize that you're a real catch. if i'm being honest, you're out of his league, and when you first started dating, he knew that."

you couldn't tell if your face was feeling hot because of his words or the fact that you'd just finished off your second drink in one long gulp, already reaching for the unopened ginger beer and vodka. blinking away the glassiness starting to settle over your vision, you met his gaze, suddenly feeling much smaller before him. he waited until you'd finished refilling your drink before he began again, not saying anything about how you'd accidentally poured much more vodka than you meant to.

"i think eren's problem is that he's getting too cocky," your appetite was starting to disappear as you focused on his words, still trying to finish what was left on the plate, "doesn't know his ass from his elbow, but he still thinks he's got everything figured out. you know what i mean, right?"

you nodded with an affirmative hum, a series of incidents that made you want to rip the boy's head off flashing through your mind only added credence to his claim. your tongue was starting heavy in your mouth, movements sluggish as you washed away what was left of dinner with more of your drink. you hadn't been truly drunk in months, not since that halloween party, only indulging in the occasional mimosa over breakfast with your family and your celebratory champagne for new years.

you hoped the heaviness weighing at your lids didn't show on your face, or that your words didn't string together when you replied. "i know exactly what you mean, can't imagine how hard that was to deal with for the last nineteen years."

he chuckled, finishing off his whiskey. "i've saved that kid's ass more time than i could ever care to count. being the older brother is a thankless fuckin' job if i've ever seen one. you done with dinner?"

"yeah. thank you again, it was amazing."

he grinned at your praise, rising from his seat as he spoke. "here, table's kind of crowded, we can move to the couch. i'll take care of dishes later. you want a refill?"

"sure." you responded before you could really think about your answer, trying to subtly steady yourself on the table as you got to your feet, head already starting to spin.

blinking away the blurriness fuzzing at the edges of your vision, you wandered past him through the kitchen and into the adjacent living room, falling into the cushions of the couch before you could trip up over your own feet. you felt embarrassed by your lack of tolerance, but felt some of that tension ebb away when he made his way over to sit next to you, fresh glass of ginger beer and vodka in hand. you didn't expect to feel the warmth of his thigh pressing into yours when he settled down, placing your drink on the coffee table before he turned down to speak to you.

"alright, i haven't said much in the way of advice, so here's what i think."

you grimaced internally, reaching over with an unsteady hand to grab your glass and take a long sip to brace yourself for his thoughts. you weren't expecting that it would be an easy pill to swallow, he'd probably be realistic about things and tell you to just suck it up and break things off while you could still maintain a shred of dignity.

"i know this is probably not what you want to hear, but i really think you should break up with him."

your lips pressed into a thin line, partly from his assertion but mostly because of the burn of alcohol sliding down your throat. there was definitely much more vodka in this than there should be, but you didn't want to seem weak before him, trying not to shudder as you continued to take small, fast sips.

you nearly spat it up on yourself when his hand settled on the skin of your thigh exposed by your skirt, wide eyes raising to meet his intent gaze. "don't tell me you think a guy that ditches you for just about three months now is worth your time, even without everything else considered."

"everythin' else?" your words were starting to slur together, but you still tried to drown out the dread tangling in your gut with the bubbling contents of the glass.

"you haven't figured it out yet, have you.." he faltered, a slight frown drawing across his lips when you gave a hesitant shake of your head, sighing as he pulled his glasses off of his nose and folded them neatly to place on the coffee table. "think about it; he disappears on you while he was drunk at a party, most likely with hanging around alone with the female friend that's clung onto him for a majority of his life, and then after that night he just completely gives you the cold shoulder, avoids you every time you try and come talk to him, like he's running away from you." he paused, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "like he's hiding something."

you felt your heart sink, biting firmly down on your bottom lip, a thick lump forming in your throat, eyes stinging. "s-so, you're saying th-that—"

you couldn't blink away the first tears as they dribbled down your cheeks, choking back a small sob. he carefully took the nearly empty glass from your hands and replaced it on the coffee table, you could make out the expression of pity drawn across his handsome features through your watery gaze. you didn't protest when the arm closest to you moved to wrap around your waist, the other curling around your shoulder and drawing you against him. restrained sniffles gave way to hiccuped sobs, your own hands linking around his neck and squeezing him tighter against you as you wept out into the empty air behind him.

normally you would've put on a brave face, maybe excused yourself to the bathroom to let out a few silent tears before you returned to thank him and stammer out some excuse to leave and spend the rest of the night wallowing on your own. but the alcohol had melted away any barriers you would've put up against zeke's compassion, made you crave the security his warmth provided as he pressed his face into your shoulder, a large, gentle hand rising to stroke over the crown of your head. he let you cry on your own for a while, not minding how your fingers clutched tightly at his shirt or how your snot and tears wet the pale fabric, petting your hair and rubbing soothingly over your shuddering back.

your adjacent thighs were nearly overlapping each other, but all you could think of was how your hammering heart felt like it was one beat away from bursting at the seams, the dim glow of the lamp in the corner that blurred into a shapeless ball of light, his steady breath fanning across the skin of your neck.

"that asshole doesn't deserve you." he murmured, voice low as his lips ghosted over your shoulder, strong arms fastening their hold around you.

you couldn't help but shudder at the feeling as you sniffed, swallowing down the tension balling in your throat before you managed a shaky reply. "h-he's your brother, i thought you'd b-be on his side.."

"what makes you think i'd be on his side after hearing how he treated you?" his fingers worked their way deeper into your hair, palm cradling the back of your head. you forced yourself not to squirm when his face nestled further into the crook of your neck. "you deserve someone mature, someone who can treat you right.. someone who can make you feel good..."

you let out an alarmed breath at the feeling of a soft kiss over your skin, then another, posture stiffening as your grasp around his neck slackened. "wait, i c-can't," you started, the sudden sensation of his fingers sinking into your waist and drawing you closer against him making you lose your words for a moment, "i haven' officially broken up with eren, just because he might've ch-cheated on me doesn't mean-"

"there's no use trying to deny what he did.. what's done is done, you need to do what's best for you—right here, right now." his voice lowered even further, barely a whisper as he implored, "what do you want to do?"

you bit back a weak sound when his tongue drew a slow lick over the sensitive skin, the involuntary heat stirring between your legs making your thighs clench. this was wrong, you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be letting this happen, an endless stream of muddled thoughts flashed through your mind as you desperately searched for some sort of excuse to buy yourself a few more moments to think. a distant memory popped into your head, the blurry mental image of zeke with his arm draped around a dark-haired woman when you'd dropped by to visit eren just before you'd both moved in on campus.

"g-girlfriend!! don't you have a girlfriend?!" you blurted desperately, a small whimper slipping out of you as he gave a brief suck over your pulse.

"girlfriend?" he paused his motions, chuckling lowly and giving a small shake of his head when he realized who you were thinking of, "oh, pieck? i'd hardly call her a girlfriend, just an old buddy. honestly, it's no wonder you got stuck in this sort of situation, you manage to find an excuse for everything."

you couldn't ruminate on his patronizing tone for longer than a moment before he returned to kissing at the sensitive skin of your neck, testing the waters of your resilience. you were afraid of your responsiveness to his touch, your body's unabashed honesty, afraid of how your protests had devolved into uncertain whimpers and shifts in your seat.

"good girl," he murmured, sending a jolt of heat racing up your spine, "see how easy that was? this is what you want, isn't it?"

you allowed the fingers in your hair to gently tug your head back, exposing more skin to his eager mouth as he teased a bite just under your jaw, drawing a soft whine and an even deeper flush of heat over your cheeks from you. your movements were sluggish, limbs leadened with inebriation falling down easily when he urged you down onto your back. in one slow blink he'd settled on top of you, warm lips melded easily against your own as his fingers began to work at unbuttoning your blouse.

maybe he was right, maybe you just needed to accept that you and eren's time had come to pass and indulge in what you really wanted—and now that he'd made it an option, what you really wanted right now was to feel the warmth of his bare flesh on yours, taste more of the whiskey on his breath as his tongue slid between your teeth, replace every hint of eren that still resided on your skin with his scent of expensive cologne. you could already feel the ache of a forming bruise at the base of your neck, fingers messily tangling in his hair and back arching up to his hands when they began to smooth across your chest, snaking under your body to undo the clasp of your bra.

"you never told me what exactly you wanted, baby.." he murmured over your lips, low-lidded eyes meeting yours, "do you want us to just kiss, or do you want me to touch you?"

"touch me, please.." you mumbled restlessly, quickly becoming impatient with the fact that his hands had halted after slipping the straps of your bra free from your arms and tossing it somewhere behind him to be forgotten.

but even after you answered, he didn't continue, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he gazed down at you. "and then what after that? do you want me to touch you here? his fingers ghosted over the swell of your breasts. "or here?" one hand trailed down the length of your abdomen, forefinger just barely hooking onto the waistline of your skirt and giving it a teasing tug.

"zeke." you whined in frustration, mind foggy with lust and alcohol, uncoordinated hands wrestling with his shirt despite not having undone the buttons first, "you're being mean.."

"sorry," he said without a hint of remorse in his voice, only pride as he returned his hands to your chest, "you're just too easy to tease, so responsive, i'd never get bored of playing with you."

you took it as a compliment, as praise, rather than what it really was. it was easier to think of it like flattery in the moment, to push the obvious reminder that his brother had gotten bored of you out of your mind. despite the implication of such a statement, you couldn't help the odd sense of safety you found in such an equivocal intimacy, hazy, not sound of mind, not entirely yourself as you offered him your body, his to kiss and grab and bruise if only for the night.

you hummed with approval when his lips trailed down to the valley of your chest, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your breasts, but making a point to avoid your nipples, only further denying you the stimulation that you thought he'd finally assured you with that last arrogant taunt. you could feel his smile on your skin, nearly huffing at the realization that you couldn't squeeze your thighs together to give yourself some friction with him positioned between them like he was, buzzing with warmth yet entirely unfulfilled.

"patience is a virtue.." he murmured sagely, unfazed by your second sound of annoyance.

"what about trying to fuck your brother's girlfriend is virtuous." you bit back, momentary anger leaving you in a surprised pant as he gave a gentle tug to one of your nipples.

"ex-girlfriend." he corrected after a quiet chuckle at your forthrightness, mouth closing around the pert bud not being rolled between his slender fingers.

you moaned out a soft curse, hand threading back into his thick hair and pressing him further against you. the fog that had been momentarily sobered clouding your senses once more, hips rutting up into nothing as he worshipped your skin with his lips, teeth, and tongue. you felt the spark fully reignite when one hand moved back down your stomach to wrestle with the button of your skirt, the zipper sliding down easily after it was undone, fingers delving under the loosened waistline to palm at you through your underwear. he pulled away from your nipple with one last gentle bite over the tender skin, low voice at a husky mutter.

"have you ever had sex before?"

you quickly nodded down at him, seeing your own dazed stare reflected in his darkened eyes, pupils almost entirely overtaking the cool grey.

"was it with him?"

you swallowed thickly, suddenly finding yourself unable to meet his gaze, turning away to focus on your long finished drink on the coffee table, ice already half melted in the sweating glass. "yes." you barely whispered.

"was it good?"

you bit the inside of your cheek, blinking fast, trying to dispel the blanket of unease that was quickly settling over you, suffocating you. you only answered with a non-committal shrug, feeling your face burn with a humiliation that he couldn't have thought such a line of questioning would have not inspired.

he maintained a steady gaze with you for a moment longer, lowering his head back to rest at your shoulder without another word and picking a place on your neck to bite and lick at, fingers rubbing slow circles over the drenched fabric beneath them. a small moan bubbled up in your chest, squirming at just the easy attention over your clit, lids falling shut as your head sank back into the cushioned arm of the sofa.

you sighed out a small whimper of relief when he finally tugged your underwear to the side, fingers instantly slicking with your arousal when they met your bare skin, sliding in with little resistance. he'd started out with just two, but the incessant desire to be filled was quelled for the moment with them, drawing a pathetic mewl out of you when they curled just right within you.

"are you always this excited?"

another question you didn't know the honest answer to, but you shook your head anyways, accompanying it with a weak "n-no" to stroke his ego like you knew he wanted you to. you went stiff with a sudden tension when felt a third finger prodding at your pussy, eyes flying back open as you made a disconcerted sound of protest.

"relax.." he murmured into your shoulder, biting softly over one of the fresher marks, "if you can't handle this, how can you take me?"

you took a shaky breath, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you let your thighs fall open a bit more, doing your best to not clench your muscles. and you could feel how he let out a low groan over your skin when he finally slipped in all three, burying them knuckle-deep, rewarding you with a smattering of open-mouthed kisses across your bruised flesh.

"good girl. good girl." he nipped at your jaw, adjusting the speed of his wrist to match how your hips rolled up to meet his hand, the pad of his thumb rolling firmly over your clit.

you could feel that warm knot in your stomach tangling further, the tantalizing thought of release ebbing every bit of trepidation out of you as you allowed your moans and whines to spill out into the open air, heels digging into the felt of the couch around him. but just moments before you could find your high, his touch gone, and he was rising off of you to sit back on his calves, absentmindedly wiping the wetness from his fingers away on his pants, making quick work of his shirt, standing briefly to kick off his pants and help you out of your displaced bottoms before he settled back over you.

your skin was hot with need against his own, arm linking around his sturdy back and pressing his lips back over yours, letting him guide one leg up against his side as he lined himself up with you. you squeaked when you felt the tip of his cock press into you, hands bracing themselves on his shoulders, wide, unfocused eyes gazing up at him for some sort of reassurance. and that sense of security filled your heaving chest, that knowing look he focused solely on you, only made for you in this moment, forehead pressed to yours, breath fanning over your lips.

a strained, shuddering whine broke from your throat as he eased himself inside of you, inch by inch, barely able to hold your eyes open enough to maintain his fixed stare, mouth falling open in a feeble attempt to gasp back in all the air he'd pushed out of you.

"fuck." he growled lowly, fingers sinking almost painfully into the thigh in his grasp, trying to fit his body as close as it could possibly be to your own.

another sound rumbled out of him from deep in his chest when your nails dug into the firm muscle beneath them, hungry, greedy lips capturing yours. his pace was mercifully slow, given that he was probably just as eager for his own release as you were for yours, but the overwhelming fullness that you felt each time his hips met yours drove whatever tiny breath you'd been able to catch between his kisses.

you spread your legs as far as the narrow space of the couch allowed it, whimpering, feeling how you were already making a dripping mess of your thighs and the fabric beneath you. your heart was practically beating out of your chest, so loud in your ears that you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it too, his mouth catching every pant and moan he drew from you, the steady pace of his movements falling away into an ardent, frenzied rhythm. his mouth strayed back to your neck, grunting and biting into the abused flesh, and without the barrier to muffle your sounds you were whining out into the open space of the apartment, gasping in the air humid with your shared arousal, nails scratching down his back without care for whether they'd leave a mark, only dragging them back across his hot skin over and over again just to hear him groan out your name once more.

you could feel yourself climbing back up towards that delightful precipice, legs wrapping around his body and forcing him deeper into you so he could reach that spot that made white stars burst across the darkness of your close-lidded eyes. you tried to force your mouth to form coherent words, to warn him about how dangerously close you were, but all that spilled from your lips was more breathless sounds, body arching up to press against his as heat scalded over every inch of your bare skin, limbs shuddering and clinging desperately to him as he continued to roughly thrust into you.

tears were pricking at your eyes by the time he moaned a jumbled string of curses into your neck, arms nearly giving out beneath him as he spilled himself inside of you, your chests heaving in an unmatched, ragged unity against each other. he stayed there for a few moments, still inside you, struggling to catch his breath but still pressing the occasional kiss over your neck and shoulders. your fingers released their grasp on him, not realizing how hard you'd been clenching your hands until you felt the stiff ache resonating through your joints.

you tried to murmur something to him, but all that escaped was a weak whimper, legs slipping back down to lay on the couch, arms resting heavy on his back. you hadn't meant to fall asleep so fast, but your head had already been spinning from warm shocks still echoing through every fiber of your body, let alone the alcohol and the sheer physical exertion. you let your eyes fall shut, lids far too heavy to keep open, and slipped away easily into a dreamless slumber.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

zeke blindly reached about for the towel he'd set aside near the sink, finally grabbing it and pressing it to his dripping face, patting his skin and beard dry before tossing it into the hamper by the door. replacing his glasses onto his face, he blinked away the grogginess in his eyes, running his fingers through his hair to flatten it into a somewhat presentable style. he turned to the open door, catching a glimpse of you nestled under the comforter of his bed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

he'd carried you to his room last night, but didn't get the chance to clean you up until this morning. by then, the bruises that had been an angry shade of red over your neck and chest had settled into your skin and darkened significantly, some bordered by deeper teethmarks that still had yet to fade. you hadn't stirred when he'd pulled the covers away from you for just a few moments, peeling off your underwear that he'd haphazardly replaced on your body to keep the mess to a minimum and gently wiping his cum away from your skin with a wet washcloth. he'd really tired you out, and something about seeing you so exhausted after just one night with him made a flicker of pride swell in his chest.

flicking off the light in the bathroom, he didn't bother to add a shirt over his relaxed attire of just a pair of sweatpants as he left his bedroom, making sure to quietly shut the door behind him.

"rise and shine." his back was still to the kitchen when he heard reiner's voice, turning to face his roommate who was looking at him with a mix of disapproval and curiosity, most likely having gotten a good look at the scratches you left down his skin last night.

"how was your time at bertholdt's?" zeke asked, ignoring reiner's frown as he glossed over his intrigue, wandering over to the fridge to grab some water for himself.

"not great." he grunted, reaching into the cabinet below the stove and fetching a pan, "he decided to invite annie over when he heard i was coming. you can imagine how boring it was to watch those two make eyes at each other the entire night."

zeke chuckled at that, cracking the top off of the cool bottle in his hands and taking a refreshing gulp, glancing at the table and noticing its lack of plates and the leftovers of night-old curry. "oh, you did the dishes. thanks."

"yeah, yeah, just glad you had your fun last night without me having to hear it." he stepped aside to let reiner put a carton of eggs and the butter out of the fridge. "but seriously man? the couch? you're gonna have to get that dry-cleaned or something, and i'm not helping you pay for it either."

"don't worry about it, i'll take care of it." he replied with a lazy smile, quickly adding on to his smooth response, "and be nice, alright? it's someone we know."

"who?" he asked, not at all looking it but obviously interested in his answer, flicking on the gas under the pan and dumping a spoonful of butter into it.

"one of eren's friends." reiner's eyes shot briefly over to him at that, prompting him to give a brief description of you, "remember? you saw her that time we all met up to watch that horror marathon while i still lived with my parents."

"wait.. you told me about her. isn't she dating your brother??"

"was dating my brother." he corrected, rolling his eyes at the disgruntled bewilderment etched across his friends face, "what? i had to show her that this generation of jaegers wasn't a complete disappointment.."

"whatever, man. your business." he finished off his water bottle in silence, watching reiner crack a few eggs in a bowl and whisk them together with a fork, finally breaking the silence with a generous offer. "you want me to make something for her?"

a slight grin broke out across zeke's face, dumping the empty plastic into the recycling bin, slapping reiner's back affectionately. "thought you'd never ask. thanks again, man."

"at your service." was his grumbled, monotone reply, the shadows weighing under his eyes clearly showing how late he'd arrived home last night and how little sleep he'd gotten. zeke was sure that once he'd got some coffee in him he'd cheer up a bit.

he was sure reiner wouldn't be done for another few minutes, so he wandered back into his room, wondering if you'd woken up yet so he could direct you to the shower if you wanted one. in the time that he'd been in the kitchen, you shifted around in bed, having rolled onto your back and knocked the covers away to reveal your bruised chest, hair covering half of your face but still identifiable. perfect.

zeke fished his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, unlocking it and tapping into the camera app, taking a few steps closer to the bed and zooming in a bit before he snapped a picture of you.

                  10:39 am  you you sent an image to eren

eren  10:40 am uhhh did you send that to the wrong person

eren  10:41 am wait hold on who is that zeke who the fuck is that

eren  10:42 am is that my fuckingngirlfrined

you missed a call from eren

eren  10:43 am why the fuck aren't you fuckign picking up

you missed a call from eren (2)

eren  10:45 am holy shit what the fuck this can't be fucking happening zeke what the fuck is wrong wjth you you piece of fucking shit

zeke tapped out of his messages with his brother, sliding over his notifications setting to "do not disturb" before dropping his phone back into his pocket. he couldn't help the low chuckle he let out at his frantic replies. maybe if he'd held the same enthusiasm with you then he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. moving over to your side of the bed, he took a seat on the mattress beside you, perking up at the sound of your small groan, eyes sleepily fluttering open to gaze up at him.

"g'morning." you murmured, letting out a quiet yawn as you sat up in bed, holding the sheets up to cover your bare chest despite him having already seen you naked.

"how'd you sleep?"

"like a fucking rock." he laughed softly at your bluntness. "my head kinda hurts.. sorry i fell asleep on you last night."

you looked positively adorable right now, and he was glad you weren't panicking or having any second thoughts about him, that you had fully digested the reality of your situation and come to peace with it. well, at least the situation before he'd sent that picture to eren.

"don't worry about it," he assured you, keeping the thought of his brother probably blowing up his phone and leaving the usual voicemails of him screaming at him when he was angry in his inbox, "i'll get you some breakfast soon. need any ibuprofen?"

"yes please." you smiled gratefully up at him, his heart twinged. "and could you grab me my purse? i left it in the kitchen, my roommates probably wondering why i didn't come back last night."

he began to say yes, but thought of how you were probably receiving a similar slew of alarmed messages by this point made him stop. "how about a shower first? you'd probably feel a lot better after that."

you hummed thoughtfully for a few moments, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand. "a shower sounds nice.. if you don't mind."

"wouldn't have offered if i did, babe." he grinned at the way your cheeks flushed, waving a hand over to his bathroom door, "shower's in there, plenty of towels on the rack by the tub."

he stood, turning to begin making his way to the door to give you some privacy, but felt your fingers gingerly wrapped around your wrist. "zeke.. thank you. for everything. i've been in a really tough spot for the last few months, and now everything seems... it all seems a lot clearer to me, like i just took the hardest step and it'll be a breeze after this."

your smile was genuinely, infectious, eyes full of gratitude, and had it not been for the heavy news that you would most likely be finding out about within the hour, he probably would've responded with one of equal radiance. but he managed to perk up the corners of his lips for you, tracing back to press a quick kiss over the top of your head.

"at your service."

he was pleased to see that his copied, more charmingly delivered words garnered such a positive response from you. and so he made his way back out into the kitchen, pulling out his phone to briefly check the amount of notifications that had racked up on his lock screen. thirty-six messages and sixteen missed phone calls. damn was that little brat persistent.

despite having essentially thrown you under the bus, he didn't feel any semblance of guilt for the action of having sent that incriminating photograph. the only remorse he felt was for leaving you as the sole recipient to his brother's rage, and the fact that he was starting to feel a strange sort of affinity for you, something lighter and more innocuous than the lust that he had shown you the previous evening. so he slipped over to the dinner table, acknowledging reiner's announcement that your eggs were ready with a short hum, finding your purse exactly where you said it had been.

he could hear the sound of the shower being turned on, and he felt safe unzipping the small bag and rummaging around to fish your phone out from beneath your other belongings. as he'd expected, there were a few missed calls from a "sasha", who he assumed to be your roommate, the messages from "eren <3" quickly beginning to pile up on your home screen. and as the "incoming call" text showed on the screen and the phone began to vibrate, zeke held down on the power button, completely shutting it off before he pocketed the device.

he just had to keep you busy, get you to focus on anything besides your desire to get to your purse and check your phone, or figure out a polite way to quickly shoo you out of the door and get home before you realized that you didn't have it in your bag. he hadn't really planned for this outcome, he usually didn't have this sort of compassion for others when he set his mind to getting something done, but he had a feeling that the extra work would be worth it in the grand scheme of things.

⥼ next chapter

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 02 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.4 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (01)

Next part (03)->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22 , who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Fear

As much as you're trying to stay alive, to live, if there's still a life worth living, you have to admit it's hard. It's harder than dying. Death doesn't hurt this much, you think. It's been only a couple of days since Daryl brought you here, and if it wasn't for him, and also Carol, you wouldn't be able to do more than stay in bed.

Your body will take long to heal, says Denise, who comes every day to check on your wounds. The talking soon started. You often overhear Carol in the hall, muttering about how you don't talk. About what happened before. They know your wounds were inflicted. It's quite obvious. But you do talk, just not to her. You have exchanged some words with Daryl, not much though.

Today, after Carol helped you take a bath, you pull the blankets up, over your shoulders. You would like to wear pants, but the wound on your left leg is too deep, Denise said, bone-deep. So she doesn't want anything covering it, not wanting you to move in your sleep and cause the fabric to pull and squeeze it. You don't complain though. This wound is the worst, you soon realized. It doesn't mean the rest is any better, but the leg... It kills you. The painkillers only work for a couple of hours, and you have to endure the pain until you can have the next dose.

It's a nightmare.

It's only worse when you try to sleep.

Whenever you close your eyes, the memories overcome you. Keeping your eyes open in the darkness isn't much better. That's when you realized you don't have to be asleep to have nightmares.

“(Y/N).” Daryl's voice gets your attention, and you roll to lay on your back. He comes in, looking down at you, worried. As usual. “Carol told me ya don't wanna to go outside.”

That again. “No.” You mumble. Carol wants you to get some sunlight, on the porch. But you rather be in here, away from people's eyes.

“Why?”

Breathing heavily, you push yourself up, biting your tongue when pain takes over. Moving backward, you release the air you were holding when your back reaches the headrest.

“Ya need it. To soak in some vitamin D.” He furrows his eyebrows in the end, and you wonder if he's just repeating Carol's words. “Nobody here will hurt ya. Trust me.”

“Would you stay with me?” Your voice still sounds weak for not using it. Looking at your hands, you wonder if you should even ask this of him.

“Wouldn't ya feel more comfortable with Carol?”

Slowly, you shake your head no. Carol has been very kind, but still... You can't bring yourself to feel safe around her. Not completely.

“You don't have to.” Despite the constant need to be around Daryl, to feel safe, you can't force him to be around you. It's not fair. Clenching your hands into fists, you close your eyes. The thought of leaving this room without Daryl makes your whole body shake, tremble. “You don't have to. But I'll stay here. I-if someone out there sees me they will–”

“Hey, hey.” You feel the mattress moving, eyes opening, terror creeping over at the feeling of someone near you. But when you find Daryl's blue eyes, your whole body slows down, and you have to fight back the urge to touch him.

“I'm sorry.” The words come out, but not the sound.

There's a battle inside you. Maybe your mind is way too wrecked, as far as your body, and it's struggling to take a grip on reality. The only thing you know is that you can't go outside without Daryl. He will protect you, keep you safe from anyone who tries to hurt you. And without him... You're an easy prey. You always have been.

“That's not it. I just... I don't get why ya want me around.”

You don't understand him, why he sounds so... Sad. Desolated, even. You haven't noticed until now, but looking further, you recognize something in his eyes. Something you're sure people can see in you too. Pain. Suffering. A past that almost killed you, not only physically.

“You're my hero.” Whispering, you tell him, wondering if you've been looking for too long into his eyes. “I... I know you'll keep me safe.”

“C'mon then.” He finally says after almost a minute of silence.

You're starting to move, pushing your right leg to the floor with a groan when Daryl gestures for you to stop before picking you up. He's careful with the blanket, keeping it around you. A moan escapes your lips when a sharp pull makes your leg burn.

“Ya ok?” Eyes closed tightly, you nod. “Sorry.” He mutters before he starts walking. You finally get a look at the house. The walls are a light pale blue, with not much for decoration. Downstairs, the living room feels cozy, with two couches and a fireplace.

“You got her out!” Carol exclaims, causing you to cling more onto Daryl, heart racing suddenly. “It's good to see you down here, (Y/N).” She gets in your sight when Daryl turns a bit, coming from the kitchen with a smile on her face.

“Gonna stay out there with her.”

“That's good.” She happily nods. “The sun will warm you up.”

You know you should say something. Or smile. Somehow respond to her kindness, but you just can't. You just rest your head on Daryl's shoulder, a hand tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Alright, let's go.” You're relieved when he starts moving again. Until you're outside.

The sunlight casts a soft, golden light on the street, and a cold wind messes with your hair. This is beautiful, peaceful if you consider the world you live in. But your eyes start looking for any signs of people, anxiety building up as Daryl puts you down on a wooden chair. When he let's go of you, your hands immediately grab the edge of the chair, so hard the muscles of your arms burn.

“Hey.” He calls, kneeling in front of you. “Relax.” Daryl takes both your hands, removing it from the chair. “I'll be right here with ya.” He then stands up, stepping back to lean against the white wooden railing.

With your eyes locked on his, you rest your back on the chair, taking a deep breath. It's good to be out, and the sunlight falling on your face and neck feels nice. You can't remember the last time you enjoyed it, the last time you even had the chance to just sit in the sun. Opening the blanket, you allow the sun to illuminate the skin of your arms. But your eyes start following the bruises, purple and greenish, the grazes and the scratches...

“Daryl.” An unknown voice gets your attention and you turn your head at the source. A man climbs the steps, and you start breathing fast. His beard reminds you of one of them. The one who smiled as he sliced your skin. “Is this (Y/N)?” His eyes fall on you.

How does he know your name?

When he steps in the porch, you look at Daryl, reaching out your hand. It takes a while until he understands, until his hand touches yours. Through the corner of your eyes, you see the man coming closer, and you need to hide, to run away.

In a jolt of adrenaline, you pull yourself up, almost stumbling down, your body finding no other way but to collide against Daryl's chest. A groan leaves your lips as you lose your breath and hide your face. Both your hands grab his shirt, all your weight on the right leg.

“Hey, ‘s alright.” His chest vibrates as he speaks, but you don't move, you just want to disappear, to stay away from whoever this man is.

“I don't get it.” The man says, making you flinch, tears already rolling down.

When your leg gives upholding you up, you almost fall, but Daryl is quick to hold you up. “ ‘S alright. C'mon.” He takes you in his arms again, and you hide your face on the crook of his neck, eyes tightly shut, as if it would make you disappear.

Your body shakes when a sob comes, the image of that bearded man filling your mind. ‘You'll beg me to do this to you in no time. You'll learn to enjoy the blade slicing your pretty skin open.’ He said, laughing, giggling. He holds you down, his body making it impossible for you to move.

“(Y/N).” Daryl's voice brings you back, and you notice you're in bed again, still holding on to him. “Look at me. Hey.” His hand comes to your face, but you can't open your eyes. “Ya need to listen to me. Yer safe here, I promise.”

“No.” You mumble, forcing yourself to look at him, his face close to yours, foreheads almost touching. “H-he looks like that man. He... He...” A hand comes to your side, to the cuts under your breast. “I need you to stay with me.” It comes out as a cry, voice cracking, sobs out of control. If he let's go of you, you'll break down. “Please. Please.”

“Slow down.” You feel his arms around you, and you curl up against his chest. “ ‘M right here with ya. Calm down.”

His arms are the only place you're safe. The only place you won't be hurt again.

“Daryl. Rick wants to speak to you.” Carol says, her voice low and soft, fading in the end.

“Tell him to wait,” Daryl mutters, a hand caressing your hair.

“I'll get her some water.”

“Alright.” He answers, pulling away. “(Y/N), look at me.” Blinking a few times to push the tears away, you meet his eyes. They look like the sky during summer, or like the ocean, steady and calm. “That was Rick. A friend of mine. He's been with us since the beginning, he would never hurt ya.”

“I... I...” Stuttering, you try to catch your breath. You don't know what to say, you just need to stay away from anyone who isn't Daryl. “Don't let him come here.”

“I won't. But I need ta’ see what he wants.” You immediately shake your head no, not wanting to be left alone. “I'll be right there.” He gestures at the door. “I'll be right there in the hall and then I'll come back ta’ stay with ya, 's that alright?”

No, it's not. “Ok.” You tell him, not hearing your own voice.

The cold creeps over your skin the moment he let go of you, so you pull the blankets closer, eyes on his back, on the wings... Until they disappear. Carol comes soon after with a glass of water, sitting on the bed and handing it over to you.

“Drink, (Y/N).” She urgers and you do as she says, hands shaking as you take a sip.

Daryl's low voice reaches you, along with another voice, from that man. Rick. He said he's name is Rick. You never learned the name of the one who cut you, they never allowed you to know anything about them. It was part of the torture, probably.

“She needs to be introduced to the group. They need to know who she is. Who she was before, you know that.” The man says, his voice coming from the hall outside the bedroom.

“She's wounded. Ya don't know how much.”

“I get it, but we take no exceptions. We can't. She's been here for days.”

“(Y/N) doesn't even talk yet.” Daryl raises his voice a little, annoyed. Your eyes are on the open door, waiting for him to return. “Something happened to her. People hurt her.”

“She speaks to you, doesn't she? I heard her–”

“She's not ready yet!” His thunder voice makes you shake a little, and you exchange a glance with Carol.

She gets up, moving to the door. “Could you take this downstairs?” She asks them, stepping back in and closing the door.

You start moving backward, a groan of pain escaping when your sore muscles complain. You wait for it, the noise of the door closing once again, soaking out the light, the click of the locks that imprison you in complete darkness. The cold that hovers over as you wait for the next day. The next one. The next torture.

“Don't.” Daryl's voice cuts in, a force of itself, pulling you away from the memory, back to reality. Daryl holds the door before it closes. “Keep it open.” You don't know how exactly he knows it, but you're happy he does.

Carol nods, returning to sit on the bed. “You two have something going on that I don't know about.” She mumbles, and you look down at your hands.

“She needs time and she'll have it. If Deanna wants to throw her out, tell her I'm out too.” Walking fast, he's soon back in the bedroom, gesturing for Rick to leave. Daryl's angry. You've never seen him angry. “Carol get out.” He mutters, not bothering with her eye roll. He stands beside the bed, and you reach for his hand.

“I'll talk to Rick. Put some sense into his head.”

He doesn't answer, sinking down on the mattress in front of you. His expression softens when you look into his eyes, the anger from seconds before vanishing. “Ya need to talk.” He begins, keeping his voice low. “Ya need to tell me what happened to ya. Who did this to ya.”

Blinking a few times to push the tears away, you look at your hands, clenching them into fists.

“If ya tell me, I will tell the group. Ya won't have to ever say it again.”

The last thing you want is to revisit all that happened. Your mind already does that, a lot, bringing you back to the place where you learned what real fear is. What pain and suffering are. The place where your worst nightmares had to flee. They were nothing compared to what happened there. And speaking of it is far worse. It brings it back to life all over again, make it happen all over again...

But it's better to tell Daryl then than to anyone else. This Rick or this group Daryl talks about. No, that you couldn't. If you tell Daryl, he'll understand. He'll keep you safe, keep you from ever going back there.

“Alright.” You mutter, taking a deep breath, feeling as your ribs ache when the air fills your lungs. Bracing yourself, you start.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad

[naminethewriter]

This Once And Never Again

My last entry for Dukeceit Week 2021 if finally done! I’m so happy I finished it 🥰 Thanks to @dukeceitweek for organizing this and thank you to everyone who read along, commented, reblogged and left tags, you are all amazing! 😍😍😍 Now I hope you enjoy this last story as well! 💛💚

Here on Ao3

Characters: Janus, Remus

Relationship: romantic Dukeceit

Rating: T

Words: 1,287

Summary: Why had he agreed to do this again? He should’ve just said no, it was a stupid plan anyway.

Janus fingers danced on the wheel nervously. The black gloves felt wrong on his hands. As did his hair stuffed under the also black beanie on his head. In general, he did not feel very comfortable in his current outfit. Or this car. A rental. Also black. Borrowed under a fake name and he had no intention of returning it to the dealer he had gotten it from. The sound of cars passing by in front of the small driveway he was parked in and the tap, tap, tap of his fingers on the wheel were the only noise. The radio was turned off, as were the lights and the engine. Appearing to be empty unless you took a closer look.

Janus checked his watch. Shouldn’t be long now. The make-up on his face was itchy. It felt uncomfortable and wrong, just like the clothes. Why had he agreed to do this again? He should’ve just said no, it was a stupid plan anyway. His eyes wandered back to his wrist. Not even a minute had passed. If Remus wasn’t here in the next 15 minutes, Janus was free to leave. But for now, he waited.

 Time seemed to move so slowly. Janus was usually calm even in stressful situations but this had his anxiety going wild. It really was a stupid plan. And an entirely unnecessary one to boot. It was only a few months, they’ve gone through worse! Literally! Remus had been gone for a year once. Granted they hadn’t been together then but still. Janus was nothing if not patient. His partner was anything but.

 A sound, from up above. Janus glanced out of the slightly open window but he couldn’t see anything unless he left the car. After all, the buildings to the sides of the small driveway were at least five floors high. Another sound. Another look at the watch. The timing matched. Clattering, then a thump as something landed in front of the car. Or rather: someone.

 Remus’ agility was still somewhat baffling to Janus. He had checked the walls beforehand, how Remus got down from one of the roofs without getting hurt was beyond him. His boyfriend stood up straight, dusted himself off before grinning at Janus who rolled his eyes in response. Remus looks have gotten even wilder over the last few months. His hair longer, not only on his head but on his face. The moustache was now part of a beard. Janus was not a fan. With a few quick steps, Remus was at the window.

 “Hey, danger noodle~” he singsonged while wiggling his eyebrows. Janus fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

 “Get in the back, I want out of these clothes as soon as possible.”

 “You haven’t seen me in four months and that’s the love I get?”

 “Yes, because you dragged me into your stupid plan, now go!” Janus hissed and closed the window. Remus pouted at him for a few more seconds, before he moved behind the car, opened the trunk and slipped inside. Once Janus was certain that he had closed the lid properly, he started the car and calmly drove onto the street, the sound of sirens in the background.

   The drive was thankfully quick and without incident. The couple police cars that crossed their way didn’t seem to find a reason to stop and check them. So after around 20 minutes, Janus pulled into a garage on the other edge of the small city. Once he exited the car, he checked that the shutter had closed properly behind him before he turned on the light and opened the trunk.

 “I really don’t know how you can act so stupid and still get so damn lucky,” Janus scolded his boyfriend, who grinned at him before climbing out.

 “I wish I knew, Jan-Jan! Then I could go and thank whoever made me so lucky that I have you in my life.” Remus delivered that awful, cheesy line with so much confidence, Janus almost forgot to be annoyed with him. Almost. Remus had moved closer, his face only inches from Janus’ own until he was pushed away, a black gloved hand on his cheek.

 “Shut up, you corny rat. I need to get out of this outfit.” Janus moved away, grabbing the bag that had been left by a door that led out of the garage and further into the building. He turned back around for a moment, hand already on the doorknob. “And you dear, need a shave.” Remus giggled and quickly followed his partner out of the room, turning off the light when he left. The rental remained, in a now empty garage, keys left in the ignition.

   It took Janus another 15 minutes to get out of the offending clothes, let down her hair and braid it, pick an outfit she liked from the few options she had packed, get the make-up covering her vitiligo off and decide to change the charm on her bracelet to indicate female pronouns. She felt so much better with a hat more her style, a loose blouse and knee-long skirt, slender shoes and her trusted yellow gloves. Once she was satisfied, she went to check on Remus.

 Her boyfriend was already dressed and shaven when she came in and frowned at himself in the mirror. And Janus had to agree, he almost looked worse than before. Without a hair left on his lower face and dressed in the trademark red shirt and white skinny jeans of his brother, Remus looked pretty bizarre. The only remaining difference between him and Roman was the wild hair. Remus’ eyes met Janus in the mirror.

 “I look gross.” Janus nodded.

 “But it was your plan, so no complaining.”

 “What’s the fun of it if I can’t?” Remus whined. His girlfriend sighed.

 “Just let me cut your hair so we can get out of here?”

 “Kisses first?”

 “Fine,” Janus sighed but she couldn’t deny how good it felt to feel Remus’ lips on her own again. Apparently he had also had the time to brush his teeth, a nice surprise. They simply stood there for a minute, locking lips but once Remus tried to get his tongue involved, Janus pulled back.

 “That’s enough. We have a long drive, let me finish your look.” Remus pouted but obliged, sitting down on a stool while Janus got out the scissors and electric razor. Janus worked in silence for a bit before commenting: “Roman is going to be so mad at you once he comes back from his trip.”

 “When’s that going to be?”

 “They planned to stay for five days, so three more.”

 “And he got Daddy, Nerdy Wolverine and Spiderling to come along?”

 “Yes and I don’t know how he managed that. I also don’t know how you convinced him that he should go on a ‘no technology camping trip’. And with perfect timing for your little stunt as well.” Remus grinned.

 “I don’t kiss and tell, Jannie, you know that.” Janus scoffed.

 “The less I know, the better, probably. But I brought Roman’s phone, wallet and perfume, so you should have no trouble convincing anyone that you’re him if we’re stopped.”

 “My, my, J-anus. Stealing my brother’s clothes and papers? You are so naughty~” Janus paused to hit him on the head lightly.

 “Just to be clear: this is the first and last time I help you break out of jail. When you get arrested next time, you’re on your own. And who in their right mind plans to break out in broad daylight?”

 “I got away with it, didn’t I?” Remus grinned.

 “We’re not home yet, don’t jinx it.”

 “Yeah, yeah. Love you, Jan.”

 “Love you, too, you idiot.”

[hrtiu]

I know you're probably tired of writing but I LOVE your Rexsoka!!! Would it be possible to see a Rebels Rexsoka where Ahsoka gets injured bad and Rex has to sit by helplessly as she's taken care of by medical staff... and maybe with the Ghost crew seeing how it affects him... (aka they figure out how close the two are). Also, maybe a follow up of Ahsoka frustrated with her injury because she's not used to needing help. Was thinking leg injury. Love seeing vulnerable Ahsoka. Thanks!

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this ask, but thank you so much for submitting it! Rexsoka will always be my favorite TCW ship, and I love writing for it! I hope you enjoy.

“We’re coming in hot!” Hera shouted from the cockpit.

“Ezra, get the door!” Kanan said, moving to grip Ahsoka under her shoulders. “Zeb, you get her legs.”

The Ghost’s breaking thrusters screamed in protest as Hera pulled her in for a rushed landing. The landing gear struck the landing pad of Chopper Base with a heavy thunk and Ezra dashed for the door and punched it open. He ran down the gangplank and Kanan and Zeb carried an unconscious Ahsoka out of the ship after him.

The first person Ezra saw was Rex, puttering around by the generator. “Rex! Get the med unit ready! Ahsoka’s been injured!”

Rex looked up from the generator in confusion, then his eyes fell on Ahsoka’s limp form in Kanan and Zeb’s care. The bacta pad tied around her waist was keeping her alive, but it couldn’t block the trail of red liquid oozing from her torso. 

Rex’s face went white as his beard. “What happened?”

“No time,” huffed Ezra. “Get the med unit!”

Rex’s eyes glazed over, and Ezra wondered if now would be the moment Rex’s unstoppable soldier persona decided to fail. Then the former clone captain snapped to attention, dropped the tools he’d been carrying to the ground, and ran full-tilt towards the med bunker near the back of the base.

Ezra helped hold Ahsoka steady while Kanan and Zeb carried her to the med bunker. They set Ahsoka gingerly down on the med unit and Rex set to work cleaning, cauterizing, and redressing her wound. Kanan and Zeb left to update Hera, and Ezra made himself useful however he could, grabbing bacta, bandages, the cauterizer—whatever Rex needed.

“What happened?” Rex asked again as he carefully peeled off Ahsoka’s ruined bandages. “I thought this was supposed to be a low-security munitions factory.”

“It was, but something went wrong with the charges we set. The explosion radius was bigger than we thought, and a piece of shrapnel got Ahsoka.”

Rex’s lips pulled together and his brows furrowed, but he didn’t look away from his work. “Got it.”

The rest of the crew of the Ghost hovered about just outside the med bunker, but the space was cramped and more hands wouldn’t help. Rex was the most experienced with emergency medicine of their little team, and Ezra thanked his stars that he’d been the first to respond to his cry for help on Chopper Base.

Rex asked for the handheld cauterizing laser, and Ezra placed it in his hand.

“I need you to keep her still, alright kid?” Rex said. “This next part might be rough.”

Ezra put his hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders in preparation, but worried he wouldn’t be able to do much if she jolted. She was strong, both physically and in the Force. That’s when it occurred to him that he wasn’t too shabby with the Force either,

Ezra kept his hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders, but instead of pressing down he closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink into hers, like he did when negotiating with a tooka or calming a loth wolf. He communicated peace and comfort, as well as a willingness to bear some of her pain.

Rex turned the cauterizer on and Ahsoka’s muscles seized up, her jaw clenching and her hands balling into tight fists. Peace, comfort, security, Ezra sent to her, and some of her pain flowed into him. Together, they bore the harsh cleansing burn of the laser, and Ahsoka managed to keep still.

Rex put the laser away and held his hand out to Ezra again. “Bacta.”

Ezra let go of Ahsoka’s shoulders. She was limp again, likely passed out from the pain. He found Rex the tub of topical bacta gel and handed it to him. Rex took it and spread some of the gloopy gel onto his fingers then, with infinite care, slowly spread it across the burned surface of Ahsoka’s wound. His touch glided over the angry wound like it was the most delicate, beautiful flower in the galaxy, like she might fade away if he was too rough.

The charred wound slowly began knitting together, the burnt brown fading to a crusted tan. The tension in Ahsoka’s unconscious features faded, and to Ezra it seemed she shifted from unconsciousness to sleep. Rex leaned back against the wall of the bunker and sighed, deep lines of stress aging his already-worn features.

“We’re past the dangerous part, now,” Rex said. “You should tell the others.”

Ezra nodded and left to find the rest of the Ghost crew. Hera beamed with pleasure and Kanan let out a sigh and a small smile. Sabine acted like she’d never been terribly worried in the first place, but Ezra knew how guilty she’d felt about her explosion not going according to plan. Zeb whooped in triumph and Chopper was, well… Chopper. Everyone’s relief was clear, but underlying it lurked an enduring anxiety. These past few months it had become too easy to think of their work as fun and exciting rather than dangerous and potentially deadly.

It took Ezra some time to track everyone down, so by the time he finished his task he decided to go back and check if Rex needed anything else. The door to the med bunker was open when he arrived, and through the opening he could see Rex sitting at Ahsoka’s side, his gaze warm and tender. Ezra cleared his throat and knocked at the side of the door.

Rex looked up. “Oh, Ezra. Care to help me clean up?”

“Sure.”

Ezra stepped inside and set about throwing away used bandages, sterilizing tools, and putting things back where they belong alongside Rex. They were just about finished when a soft moan sounded from the med unit.

Ahsoka stirred on the stretcher, and Rex looked up at her with worried, eager eyes. She looked back at him blearily and tried to sit up.

“...Rex?”

Rex gently pressed her back down. “You’ve been injured, little’un. Try not to move.”

“I remember the blast,” she croaked. “How bad is it?”

Rex frowned. “Bad enough.”

“You were bleeding like crazy on the Ghost,” Ezra said, “but luckily we got you back here in time.”

“Then… I’m going to be alright?” she asked, voice small and uncertain for the first time Ezra had ever heard.

“Yes, you should be. Probably,” Rex said, his frown growing. “The bleeding has stopped, and none of your internal organs were injured too badly. But this was much closer than it should have been.”

Her vulnerability disappeared, and she attempted a weak smile. “How close should it have been?”

“It’s not funny,” Rex said. His eyes dodged hers and his fingers curled tightly over the “501st” scratched into the vambrace he always wore.

Ahsoka’s expression softened, and she reached out to him, setting her hand on his. He looked up at her and the softness in his eyes brought a heat to Ezra’s neck.

Rex reached his other hand to Ahsoka’s cheek, his hands smearing the leftover bacta gel against her white markings. She didn’t seem to mind.

“I already lost you once, I’ll be damned if I lose you again,” he said.

“Rex, you know the risks.”

Rex’s eyes fell to his lap, and she squeezed his hand tight. 

“But I promise I’ll always do everything I can to come back,” she said, her voice smoky and soothing like Ezra sometimes liked to imagine Sabine’s, in his weaker moments.

Rex looked back up at her, his eyes dark and intense. The small room was suddenly stifling, and Ezra’s face was on fire. He was going to die. Maybe he was already dead. He coughed loudly, and Rex and Ahsoka turned to him as if surprised by his existence.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll leave you two alone, then,” Ezra said, backing slowly out of the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were together. I mean, Kanan explained to me about the age thing, but-”

Ahsoka dropped Rex’s hand and Rex scooted away from her, his eyes going wide.

“W-we’re not together,” he stammered.

Ahsoka’s lekku flushed a deep blue. “Yeah, just old friends. Wartime buddies.”

“Oh, ok,” Ezra said, still backing away. “Well, um, I think Hera needs me for something.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to say something, but Ezra was out the door before she had a chance to vocalize it. The door whirred shut behind him, and he leaned back against the durasteel, his skin hot against the cool metal. Well, that was mortifying.

“Kids have such… vivid imaginations.” Ahsoka’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, and Ezra froze.

Rex chuckled, though it rang weak in Ezra’s ears. “Yeah. Crazy, to think that… You know. You and me? Crazy.”

Ezra leaned closer to the door, letting the sound from the other side seep through the crack between the panels. Being in the same room as a couple melting all over each other was a fate worse than death, but eavesdropping? Eavesdropping was one of his favorite pastimes.

“Rex, what if what Ezra said… It might be nice…”

Ezra pressed his ear harder against the cold metal.

Rex’s voice cracked. “Ahsoka-”

A firm hand yanked Ezra away from the door by his ear.

“Ow!” Green headtails bobbed in his peripheral vision. “Hera! What was that for?”

“I’m pretty sure that conversation was none of your business,” Hera said, marching him further away from the bunker.

“I just wanted to know what their deal is,” Ezra said. “Don’t you?”

Hera crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. “Sure, but that’s their business. They’ll figure it out when they’re ready. Relationships… They’re complicated. Especially when Jedi are involved.”

Her focus shifted to some distant point beyond Ezra, and Ezra bit his lip, thinking of Kanan.

“Alright, I get it,” he said. “But I hope they figure things out. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Hera said, her attention returning to him. “Me too.”

[hoodoo12]

Fortress

A request for “the reader is having a bad time mental health wise and they make a blanket fort together and just. Chill? Maybe cuddles and some reassurances?“ led to this, with some other influences. We could all use some comfort nowadays.

Mature (Dewey Finn/reader)

@thewolfisapartofmysoul  @janitor-boy @beejiesbitch @turtlepated @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @mimiscappinisideblog 

Enjoy! `

It’d been bad. So bad. You were tired and more than that, weary. Everything was too much but still you pushed yourself through each day, because it was expected of you, because people counted on you, because there wasn’t anything else to do anyway, during these times.

You got up, went to work, came home, went to bed. On repeat. Day after day. You wanted to see Dewey--really see him--but he’d been following the stay at home orders in his apartment, so all you really had were text messages and the occasionally zoom call. Each time you saw him on the grainy video, his hair looked wilder, his beard more scraggly. 

He listened to your complaining. He made appropriate noises when you told him how tired you were, and how sad you were that everything had been turned upside down. He wasn’t much into traveling, but nodded when you started crying about the fact a trip you’d been looking forward to had been canceled. He might have been bored, but he never voiced that to you. Instead, he reassured you that everything was going to be okay. You never realized how much you missed hugging him or watching him play Guitar Hero. Just being with him seemed like a luxury that you never realized until it was taken away.

The very rare occasions you mentioned maybe some sexting or even maybe possibly some mutual video sex didn’t end well due to embarrassment. Both his and yours.

Dewey Finn wasn’t a dick pic kind of guy.

So there was nothing to do but keep plodding along. Every message between you ended with, “I can’t wait to see you again.”

Until one day, almost two months into this, instead of, “I can’t wait to see you again,” he said, “Why don’t you come over?”

“What?” “Come over. We haven’t actually been together for so long.” That’s what you wanted. Exactly what you wanted. But now that it was officially offered, you worried. “I don’t know, Dew--you haven’t been out, if I got you sick because I’ve been working this whole time . . . I don’t want to be the reason you get sick!”

“I’m not gonna get sick.” His reassurance crashed against the rocks of your worry. “It’s not like there aren’t people around. I get Door Dash. I even go down  to the lobby to get the mail.” His little brushes with the outside world were nothing like yours: you were required to work and deal with random members of the public. It was a huge component of your stress, just having to be out and around people while everything on the news was dire and worrisome. Dewey knew all that; it was one of the things you mentioned repeatedly when you spoke with him. Still, he insisted. “I miss you, baby. I want to see you again. I want to hug you again. Don’t you miss me?” That was something else you lamented to him frequently. For him to toss it back to you was a low, but effective, blow.

“Okay. I’ll come over. But I’m not taking my mask off!”

He pointedly ignored your threat. “Good! Great! Awesome! I’ll have something delivered--you want those street tacos from the place down the road? I wonder if they’d deliver a frozen margarita--” You laughed, told him you’d see him tomorrow at seven, and he blew you a kiss that you returned. Worry was still a companion, but you had to admit you were excited to see him too. 

⁂

It felt weird to be out on the street and now walking up the stairs to someone else’s apartment. For two months it’d been nothing but hurrying to work and home, then a quick shower and trying to keep your low grade anxiety away until you fell asleep to do it all over again. It was that same anxiety that made you carry an extra set of clothes with you; you weren’t going anywhere near Dewey with clothes that had been out in the world, possibly contaminated. You were going to change the second you got in the door before he had a chance to hug you.

At his door, you knocked, heard a muffled, “Come in!” and actually sighed in relief that he wasn’t opening the door for you. That’d give you a chance to put on your spare clothing.

Opening his door and stepping inside the short hallway that served as an entry into the apartment, you were confronted with a barrier only a two, maybe three feet away--basically just enough for the door to swing inward. Dewey had created a wall of cardboard that blocked the hallway completely. Although there was a small entrance at the bottom, near the floor, you couldn’t see into the rest of his apartment at all. 

“Dewey, what the hell . . .” “Come on in, baby!” he called from somewhere deeper in, his voice almost as muffled as before. “There’s some hand sanitizer if you want!”

No lie; he’d left a pump bottle of sanitizer near the hole at the floor. This was weird but oddly intriguing. With a sigh, you quickly shed your outerwear and your street clothes, doused your hands in sanitizer, and slipped into the soft pants and tee shirt you’d brought along for what you’d thought would be an evening of just lounging with Dewey. You hadn’t expected any of what you’d seen so far. 

“Okay. I’m coming in!” you said loudly, crouching to look into the hole. 

It was dark in there. What the heck had Dewey done? “Okay, baby! Can’t wait to see you!”

Keeping your phone clenched in your hand for some light, feeling a little like Alice going into  a rabbit hole, you awkwardly started to crawl on your hands and knees into the entrance.

Dewey had created some kind of cardboard tunnel. Where he’d gotten all the cardboard and duct tape was beyond you, let alone figuring out how he’d even come up with something like this. He’d never mentioned anything like it to you in any of your conversations. 

Scooting along, it was longer than you expected, with a couple of switchbacks and one place tall enough you could stand in, although you had to turn sideways to squeeze along the corridor he’d created.  Occasionally he’d call out to you, saying you were doing great, that it was just a little further; that he couldn’t wait to see you. 

It almost sounded like he’d put cameras up and was watching your progress, but you hadn’t seen any. The shaking of the structure as you made your way through it must have been advertising where you were enough. 

Finally, after crawling on his floors through an semi-creepy cardboard tunnel for what seemed like too long for the size of his apartment, you saw a light up ahead. 

After one more corner, you found that, although still enclosed in a dome of cardboard, it opened up to a larger--for lack of a better word--cavern. A pile of blankets and pillows filled the space. A lamp, with its electrical cord snaking out to somewhere that wasn’t inside this cave, lit the area. Sitting in the middle of all of it, was Dewey on his mattress, grinning like a fool. He wore no mask, and you saw he’d trimmed his beard. 

“You made it!” he greeted you, holding his hand out for yours. The space wasn’t tall enough to stand up in. You crawled out of the tunnel and next to him, sitting up. For a moment, all you could do was hug and then you couldn’t help but want to kiss him, so you ditched the mask you insisted you would wear. It made your heart pound to feel how strongly he returned the affection. Finally though, after kissing him so long your lips tingled, you had to pull back and ask, “Dewey, what is all this?”

He shrugged. “Just something I did for you, baby. We can’t travel anywhere, so this was the best I could do like an adventure. Here--I got those tacos.” He reached to his side and grabbed a paper bag. “Contactless delivery,” he assured you as he pulled individually boxed food out.

With a smile, you accepted one. While the two of you shared the messy meal, he told you about how he’d planned out this whole thing: a vague outline of how he wanted it to be, collecting cardboard from the neighbors and bodega around the corner, ordering <i>so</i> much duct tape. The construction had taken some time, and he’d given up living space to create the structure. You let him talk, happy to hear about something that was creative and unique. It was nice to focus him and what he’d done for you, instead of the anxiety that threatened to drag you under. 

Finally, full of tacos and still so happy to just be with him, you lay back on his mattress. After shoving all the garbage back into the bag it’d arrived in, Dewey joined you. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “One more thing!”

You expected that to lead to another kiss, but were wrong. Dewey stretched around and fumbled with the switch for the lamp, Managing to turn it off, the small space was plunged into darkness. Reaching for him to help settle him beside you, you said, “Dewey, what--”

“Shhh. Just look.” Faintly, as your eyes adjusted, luminous specks became clear on the cardboard above and around you. There was no pattern to them; it was like he’d flicked a brush of paint randomly at the cardboard. But here and there were actual stars of varying sizes, drawn in the little-kid way of one line crossing over itself to make the five points. 

In the absolute dark, the pale green-white of the paint gave a passable impression of a starry sky. 

Dewey settled snuggly beside you. It was comfortable in this nest of blankets, with him so close. 

“I wanted this to be a safe space for you. Something far away from out there,” he whispered. “Just you and me and a galaxy above us.”

Lucky for you it was dark, because then he couldn’t see the tears that filled your eyes. You were pretty sure he knew anyway, as you buried your face in his shoulder and neck and made them both wet, but he didn’t say anything of it. You managed to give him a whispered thanks in return, and spent the rest of the night pressed against him, sheltered in a cardboard cave. fin

The inspiration for this came not only from the prompt, but from Will Blum’s self-made quarantine project: “Floyd Collins”. Check it out (and the ‘making of’ documentary called “Through the Mountain”, also available on YouTube); it is amazing and truly a labor of love. 

[yeaahishowedupatyourparty]

THE PARENTHOOD INTERVIEW: Florence.

In all of these interviews, I’m obviously going to have to make things up about other people’s characters! Don’t take it too seriously if you feel like it’s not accurate, just how I picture things being :) 

10 QUESTIONS NOT LINKED TO YOUR KID(S).

what is your current career now? “I’m currently a teacher at a dance school. I mainly teach ballet at the moment, but I’ve started moving in to more commercial and contemporary styles. Eventually, I’m hoping to open my own school, but life is hectic and always throwing new things our way, so we’ll see!”

are you enjoying it? “I love being a teacher, especially when I get to teacher the mini-classes. They’re about four and it’s been such a long time since I’ve had children that age around; I miss it!” 

where do you currently live? “We currently live in the Springs, it was just convenient because that’s where the three of them went to school but we do make an effort to visit Italy a lot. That’s where Dom’s family are from, firstly, and it’s just always had significance.” 

are you married? “Since I was 18! Younger than Daisy!”

what is one thing that’s stayed the same with you since st judes? “My connection with my family. I’m still really close to them all, especially Disney, Florence and Park.” 

what’s the biggest change you’ve experienced? “I think I’ve become smarter. I hope? Helping with impossible maths homework for years changes a person. I now know all seven continents. Proud of me yet?” 

now that you’re older and have had a successful career, what’s your biggest goal in life? “To make sure I’m present for my family, especially my children. I never want them to look back on their lives and think; well, where was my mother? It’s the reason I gave up work once Carter was born, too. I’ve never missed a sports game, a school show, a birthday, a parent’s evening...It’s not how everybody chooses to live, but it’s important to me that my children know that they can fall back on to me if they need to.”

would you still consider yourself famous? “Only by association, and that’s fine by me.” 

what was the first thing you did after your graduation? “I went on tour, would you believe! I choreographed for Ruby’s tour, who was signed to my Dad’s label at the time.” 

do you have any regrets about your time in st judes? “Not speaking my mind more often. I feel like there was an awful pressure on girl’s too be sweet and not come across as a bitch, which meant people could say what they liked and you’d have to grin and bear it if you wanted to be seen a certain way. I wish I stuck up for Dom more, and myself.”

QUESTIONS ABOUT PARENTHOOD.

who are your children? list them in age order. “Carter, Peter and Daisy. My babies.” 

if you gave birth, who was the easiest pregnancy? if you didn’t, which pregnancy did you feel most anxious about. “Carter was the easiest pregnancy. It was the first, so I didn’t know what to expect and probably took it for granted at the time, but I had no morning sickness. I got up every morning and went to this mother-to-be yoga class and had a ton of energy. I feel like I had the glow everyone speaks of? Being pregnant with Peter wasn’t the worse. I think it was more that I was pregnant and still had Carter to care for, so I was tired. Daisy’s birth definitely had the most complications and she was early. We knew from early on that things weren’t ‘normal’, so I guess that was the one with the most anxiety.” 

did you have any baby showers or gender reveals? if yes, what did you do? “I can’t remember if I did gender reveals! I don’t think I did, honestly. I did have baby showers, though. It wasn’t anything major. Just gatherings with close friends and family. It was cute when Peter and Daisy were born because Carter was more involved in the pictures and stuff, and then of course Peter too during Daisy’s one.”

what kind of parent would your children describe you as, do you think? “God, I don’t think I want to know! I think if we’re being honest, they’d say I’m almost overbearing and they’d be right. I wouldn’t be offended. I just like knowing they’re okay...” 

which stage was hardest: baby, toddler, child, teenager or young adult? “For Daisy, toddler-slash-child. She wasn’t very well and that was hard on all of us. I think Peter was the trickiest teenager...and for Carter, probably young adult, honestly! He’s coming into his own and it’s harder to get him to open up to me because, you know, he’s an adult! They’re all amazing though, so don’t think for a second any of that means they’ve caused me massive stress in any way.”

what has been your favourite memory with each child? “There are so many! One of my favourites that involves them all was the first year we went skiing with their cousins. Seeing the boys help Daisy out with the skiis...and then also ambush her with snowballs until she got stroppy and ran to Dom, was fun. Seeing them all get along like that never gets old and makes it all worth it.”

be honest, do you think you’ve had any failings as a parent? “Definitely. I constantly blame myself for Daisy being sick when she was little. I’ll forever wonder if I could’ve done anything differently while pregnant or if I did anything to contribute. For both of the boys, I sometimes worry that I didn’t sit with them enough when they were younger and help them talk things through. They’re both such ‘get on with it’ types of people and it’s admirable but I just wish I gave them more opportunities to vocalise their feelings. It gets harder the older they get.” 

what do you think you do well as a parent? “I hope it’s being present! Again, that’s something that’s really important to me. If they all know that there’s no such thing as a mistake too big or a problem too bad to bring to me, then I’ve done my job. I don’t want any of them to ever think they have to suffer in silence about things in fear of being told off or yelled at.”

how much involvement do your own parents have in your child’s life? “Quite a bit! My parents used to take them on holiday a lot over the summer along with their cousins.” 

as a parent, what is something you’re still learning? “That they grow up and they’re entitled to have thoughts and feelings they don’t share. I think I always have the urge to fix everything for them when in reality, they’re at the age where they’re figuring things out alone which is just as important.” 

what’s the funniest memory from parenthood so far? “Carter takes this one. We were on a plane going to, somewhere. Daisy must have been tiny. Anyway, Peter was sat with Dom and Carter sat with me - Daisy on my lap with the baby seatbelt on...and suddenly, he just became overly excited. I’ve never seen him so happy. When I finally got his attention, he was like “Mummy, Santa’s on the plane!” and wouldn’t stop. Well, we looked down the aisle to see a person in a dress...A woman, mind you...And she had long white hair, which to be fair to a little child could have been seen as a beard. Anyway, after the embarrassment and a journey of death glares from her, it’s definitely one of my favourite things he’s done.” 

when do you feel like you were needed the most? “Now! Life gets harder as you get older. But, I need to learn when they need me to back off too...I’ll get there.”

JUST FOR FUN, WHICH CHILD… if you have just one child, you can just say if they’d do the stuff or not.

which child is the most sensible? “Carter and Peter are two different types of sensible and they’re both important qualities, so I’m going to say those two. Sorry, Dais.” 

which child is the most independent? “Peter. He always has been, too.” 

which child did you always have suspicions about being famous one day? “They’re all so talented, typical Mum comment! Maybe Daisy, though. She’d stand in front of the boys while they were playing their video games and belt out Frozen. If that’s not star quality...and bravery, then I don’t know.” 

which child was the hardest work as a child? “Daisy, only because of the complications with her health.” 

which child have you cried/stressed over the most? “Daisy or Peter. It’s too close to call.” 

which child has the tidiest room? “Carter. That’s the easiest one so far.” 

which child do you think likes you the most? “I hope they all like me! I feel like Carter’s the one who’ll still pity me and laugh at my jokes or has the patience to show me how to set up crap on the computer too. So, we’ll say him. I know the other two love me too, but I tend to get a few more eye rolls!” 

which child is most likely to forget your birthday? “Daisy! She’s been spoilt. The boys have always been nice enough to put her name on cards and organise it for her. Perks of being the youngest? I remember my siblings doing it for me too.” 

which child is/was the most academic? “Carter, I think.” 

which child is/was the most athletic? “Peter.” 

which child tends to be the most annoying? “They all give it a good go, believe me. I think Daisy’s the most unintentionally annoying and again, it’s because we all spoil her. She went through a stage where she would not leave Peter alone and if the poor kid tried to do something by himself, she’d have a full blown tantrum. It got to the point where I had to start giving her time outs! If we’re talking about being intentionally annoying, then the whole family will agree on Peter. If he’s in that mood, he knows exactly how to wind you up...which is funny unless you’re the target!” 

which child asks for money the most? “Daisy, but from Dom. That’s his problem to deal with!” 

which child is most likely to move in back home? “Deep down, I don’t think any of them will and as much as it pains me, it also makes me really proud. I feel like it means we’ve given them everything they need for the next chapter.” 

which child helps out around the house the most? “Either of the boys. Are you noticing a pattern?” 

which child enjoyed disney the most growing up? “That’d be Daisy.”

BEING AN ACADEMY PARENT.

did you have a say in the academy(s) your child(ren) picked? “I didn’t! They all made their own decisions and I deliberately didn’t comment because I wanted them to have that.” 

how did you feel when your child decided they wanted to go to an academy? “I felt hopeful! I know it can be intense but they all have what it takes and I’m so proud every single day.” 

do any of your children study the same as what you did? are they less, equally or more successful than what you were? “Daisy studies dance and she’s miles ahead of where I was at her age. She’s a star.” 

when your child(ren) were younger, what did you THINK they’d end up working as? “That’s a good question! I always thought Carter would maybe do something like, helpful? He’s quite social and so caring. I always saw him as maybe a firefighter or teacher, y’know? With Peter, it was obvious from when he was tiny that he wouldn’t be sat behind a desk or doing anything office-like. I did always have a feeling it’d be sports related, or something that lets him travel...Maybe with my brother out in the canary islands. I don’t know! Daisy was in dance from when she was tiny, so I always had the feeling she’d do dance...”

have you met any of your child’s friends or partners? “I’ve met Callie once, I think? And Aurora a few times, yes. Beautiful girls. I won’t say too much or I’ll get texts from my boys saying I’ve embarrassed them.” 

what’s your biggest worry about your children being in an academy? “Their mental health. I don’t think anything can prepare you for people suddenly being so interested in your life and wanting a piece of you all of the time.” 

what’s the one piece of advice you’d give your child as they start this journey that you wished you had? “That it’s okay to slip off of the radar, you’re allowed to decline that invite to the exclusive party everybody is buzzing about and if you decide it isn’t for you, you’re allowed to leave. If it’s not your thing, there’s a whole world out there and your thing is in it. I just hope they always see the big picture and don’t feel like they’re stuck if they’re unhappy.” 

MEMORY LANE.

what tv programmes/films were on repeat as your children were growing up? “Paw Patrol when the boys were younger...Power Rangers was a thing at one stage. Daisy had a frightening obsession with Dora the Explorer. We’ve done it all!” 

have you ever lost your child/had something happen that’s made you panic? “Holy shhh. Yes. I used to take all of the kids out a lot during holiday’s and stuff because like, Brody and Disney both worked. Park worked. Imogen worked. Even though they have their own businesses, it’s still work. I was unemployed from when Carter was born right up until when Daisy graduated, so I liked to get them all out and away from their parents for a bit. Anyway! I took them swimming one summer - all of them! - Jay, Daisy, Dixie, Fleur, Pippa, Peter, Carter, Emmett...I turned my back for one second to let one of the younger ones - maybe Pippa - into the pool, when I turned back Peter and Dixie had gone. We searched the changing rooms, the toilets, the sauna. I was on the brink of tears. Anyway, they were hiding under the slide in the main pool which we never went in because it was too deep for any of them at that point. Needless to say, we never went swimming again. It was play dates in our garden pool instead.” 

what was the first holiday you went on as a whole family? “Italy, I believe!”  

can you remember a time you’ve ever been called to the principals office? “I don’t remember the first time but, let’s just say the principal and I were on a first name basis.”

say one thing about your child that you think they’d like to hear, but wouldn’t expect you to say. “...Let’s see. For Daisy, I think it’d be that she’s so much more than pretty. She’s been complimented on her looks since she was little - including by me, I’m guilty! And it’s because she’s beautiful! But, I hope she knows we all see how smart and generous she is too. And funny, there’s so much more to her and we value it. For Peter, definitely that we’re proud of him. Out of the three of them, he’s hardest on himself and holds himself to a painfully high standard but he’s constantly surpassing any expectations I’ve ever have. He amazes me everytime I hear from him and I just want him to remember to be kind to himself. He’s so much more than he gives himself credit for. And, with Carter, it’s similar but not quite. It’s more that he’s perfect just as he is. I think he grew up as the sensible, and possibly softer sibling. Daisy and Peter are louder by nature and from my experience, I know it’s hard to not feel like you’re forgettable or have faded into the background if you’re not as bold with your personality. But, I can put my hand on my heart and say I couldn’t imagine a better older brother - he’s kind, thoughtful, intelligent...He’s been a great example to them and so selfless. He’s had to endure and put up with so much growing up and not once has he complained, or felt sorry for himself. He’s a blessing and I just hope he knows that he doesn’t need to be more like anyone else to make me proud of him. I love them all!” 

[starlightervarda]

Hi! I love your blog. Could you say more about your headcanon for Joe having OCD? I have OCD myself and I never thought of that for Joe, but I'm always hungry to see realistic depictions of OCD in fiction. I just want to say, though, that OCD rarely manifests as "enjoying tidiness and symmetry," that is a common misperception about OCD. I'm not trying to call you out or anything!!! I just want to talk about OCD because I care about it and Joe :) Thanks for listening :)

Hi,

Okay okay SO I just made a long meta and am creatively depleted but let me vent/rant about it for a sec because I have the fixation on symmetry/arranging/order big time. I don’t know if it’s rare, but it’s definitely a subtype of OCD! The Just Right kind.

I literally feel like I’m about to cry if I see something that Doesn’t Look Right and calm down when I see stuff that’s balanced and clear and in order and it can express itself whenever I make something be it art or arranging food on a plate. It needs to be Right, you know? I get really riled up and irrationally upset when something is tipped/chipped/not level/not in order/if there’s an uneven space between two things etc.

Everyone else can ignore them but I fixate, and get kinda irrational. I feel so shitty because I'm like a toddler throwing a tantrum about how this thing is bad and I can’t ignore it don’t tell me to ignore it that’s not easy!!! It just looks wrong. It doesn’t follow a certain angle/pattern!!! I sometimes feel the urge to break something more than rearrange it because if it’s not measured/symmetrical/pleasing my eyes it really does feel like my head is full of white noise and I’m going crazy.

But apart from that the worst has to be the compulsions like picking at my skin, biting at my nails, pulling at my hair and it ties into my anxiety (and an eating disorder I’m still recovering from it’s why Calorie Counting and using measuring cups for my meals was a chaotic way for me lose weight it made me spiral bad) and gets much worse when my stress levels spike.

The compulsions make me injure myself sometimes it’s bad!

Like I’ve been under so much stress this year I knew I was going to get into that phase where I obsessively bite/scratch/pull so I’ve kept my nails very short but it’s hard to leave my hair alone and even when the nails are very short I still find a way to scratch at myself! (I may have chipped a tooth from biting my nails recently help)

And I have the irrational part BAD like I know something doesn’t need to be done that way but I can’t stop myself from doing it or feeling like I’m going to explode if I don’t and I think about it all day! And the checking/counting something over and over and over just to be sure that yes it’s correct, yes the door is locked, yes I have my keys, yes I didn’t forget the thing, yes it’s literally in my hand or in my bag but I have to very very sure even though I literally just checked five times....but what if I’m wrong?

That’s what I meant by Joe gets white noise in his head when he sees any kind of art that doesn’t follow maths! I bet he gets the most peace and enjoyment out of the stuff he can be confident won’t make him want to check over and over if its math is right. He doesn’t have to keep measuring and won’t go into a spiral where he has to keep making sure ‘is this right? it doesn’t look right? i know it said the first two times it’s right...but maybe it isn’t right’

I feel like the results from maths and what he utilizes with it give him great comfort and peace. Like he looks at something geometrically perfect like rose windows on churches or the patterns on the insides of mosques and even those simulation apps that keep making kaleidoscopic patterns and he just vibes you know? The white noise simmers down.

I do the hair-pulling/hair-playing thing a lot so I like to think that whenever he gets into those phases he has to shave his head and beard and cut off all his nails. The checking is something he does a lot when his stress-level rises, it can even manifest badly if he sees Nicky get shot/killed he has to keep checking on him even if he rationally knows he’s alive. Seeing him get shot by Keane and take a while to come back must have been shredding his heart and brain and even after they were done and went home he keeps checking for him, keeps touching the back of his head.

In a previous meta post I said that he loves finding golden ratios and the Fibonacci sequence in nature and art and hates surrealism and dadaism because it is irrational/nonsense and will go on rants about how ‘you think you’re better than God/nature who made all these flowers/shells in line with this maths??’

I’m kind of projecting onto Joe hard these days so is it a headcanon if I say he had all my issues as well?

[scarofthewind]

Hi can you write a a nsfw Brahms x reader where they end up getting married from being in a arrange married from childhood and their honeymoon

A/N: Sorry I didn’t have time to write NSFW for this one! I apologize greatly. This is E for the masterlist under Brahms

You remembered the time when you were little. Hating absolutely everything about the other kids your parents introduced you to; except the Heelshire’s son. Brahms was a peculiar boy who hated other children. He hardly spoke to you when you were both forced to play together. But he warmed up to you; started to develop a childish crush on you, to which you returned. 

Your parents from then on informed you that he would be your lover in the future, much to your surprise. You remember sitting out in the grass with the boy, both young and sweet. He made you a flower ring with the small white blossoms that were scattered all about the property. That’s when he promised that he would take care of you. That when you grew up, you’d be his.

Everything that led up to this moment was washed away when the murder and fire consumed your knowledge of the boy you once adored. Of course your parents let you know that he wasn’t dead and that everything was going to be fine, but you didn’t want to listen anymore. You felt betrayed and lied to. That was the last time you had mentioned Brahms to anyone, even yourself for the next fifteen years. You pushed the memories out of your head and you tried to let your future be the focus of your life. 

That’s when you got the letter saying that called you and your parents to the Heelshire Estate for an urgent meeting. Your mother made sure you dressed your absolute best before you were allowed to leave your room. “Make sure to smile.” Your mother told you as they rushed you into the car and off to the place that made you tremble with anxiety. 

When you arrived, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire were standing on the front steps, smiling warmly at you. “My goodness you’ve grown!” Mrs. Heelshire gushed, giving you a tight hug and getting a good look at you. 

“Indeed she has.” Mr. Heelshire replied, ushering everyone inside and shutting the door behind him. “Now, I know you are wondering why we’ve asked you to come back.” He said, looking at you with sad eyes. 

“Yes. Although I’m hoping you’ll answer my questions.” You spoke softly, your heart aching to be in the place where you last saw Brahms. 

“My dear, I don’t believe those questions are for them.” Your father interrupted and you sucked in some air.

“I just want to know why.” You grit your teeth. The Heelshire’s gave each other and look and gestured to the living area. 

“If everything was explained, would you see yourself falling back in love with our son?” Mrs. Heelshire asked, making your stomach twist at the statement.

“You can’t explain murder, Mrs. Heelshire. There’s nothing just about it.” Your eyes stayed on hers and she nodded in full understanding. “But I never fell out of love with Brahms. I cared deeply about him then and still do, even if I try to forget.” The woman smiled and your mother rubbed your back gently, proud of the way you handled the conversation. 

“Wonderful. Then we can proceed with the planning.” 

“Planning?” You questioned your father’s remark. 

“For your marriage of course. You and Brahms are the only ones to carry on our sophisticated bloodlines. We will not have either of you marrying some pitiful lowlife.” Your mother responded. Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire nodded their heads in agreement and you thought for a moment about running out of the house. 

“Of course, how could I forget. Since him and I were children.” Your eyes widened as your parents nodded. The tension and the lack of oxygen in the room made you lean against the wall. How could you have forgotten such a key part of why you had even met him to begin with?

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Mr. Heelshire asked, concerned. 

With a nod you stood straight, “I’m just going to step outside for a bit. I need some fresh air.” You said, making your way out the door and halfway across the field as fast as you could. 

Bracing yourself against the giant oak tree that adorned their yard, you felt the first of many tears to fall down your face. The stress and pressure of the day was finally getting to you and you could barely breathe as heavy gasps parted your lips. Placing one hand over your chest, you felt your heart beat and tried to calm yourself. “(Y/N)?” A male voice asked from behind you. Immediately you tensed up.

“I’m fine.” You sniffled, wiping away your tears and straightening your posture. Smoothing down your shirt you turned around and froze. You had thought the voice was your father’s or Mr. Heelshire’s. However, you did not expect it to be Brahms. 

Your eyes stared into his from the few feet away he was standing. The man in front of you was tall and lanky, but still had muscle no less. The nice button up shirt he was wearing was open a little to give a peak of the dark curls that littered his chest. However, these weren’t the most startling things about the man. 

The white porcelain doll mask that covered his face was what made you uneasy. “It’s been a while and I have a lot of explaining to do.” He said, breaking the silence. 

“Why did you kill her?” You asked bluntly, making Brahms look to the ground in shame. 

“She was talking mean about you. It made me mad and I couldn’t help myself.” His eyes met yours again and he itched to wipe your tears away, but stayed put. He didn’t want to make things worse. 

“That’s not good enough.” You shook your head. “I need something from you that will make me believe that you didn’t kill her just because you wanted to.”

“I’m telling you the truth, (Y/N).”

“No!” You shouted, stepping towards him. “Do you know how hard it was for me? When you killed that little girl and then ‘died’ in the fire I thought I was going insane.” You snapped, tearing falling once more. “I loved you. I couldn’t believe that the boy I knew hurt someone in such a way and you’re telling me that is was because she was talking mean about me?”

“I was a child! I didn’t know what I was doing until it was done!” Brahms argued back, his voice muffled by the mask that you grew irritated looking at. 

“Take it off.” You seethed, watching his eyes widen.

“Excuse me?” 

“Take the mask off, Brahms.”

“I won’t.” 

You took another step forward towards him and he stepped back, “Take it off or I am leaving. This time, you won’t ever see me again.” In that moment, for a split second, you saw something in his eyes that scared you. Something that told you that he would never let you go. “Please.”

Brahms stared at you for a moment, visibly shaken by your request. Before he could tell you ‘no’ one more time, you spoke, “If you still love me you’ll take it off.” 

“The scars-”

“Have nothing to do with why I want you to take the mask off.” You said softer, deciding it best to be gentle with him. You watched as Brahms slowly nodded, reaching up and sliding the mask away from his face. The curls that adorned his head blocked the view of his eyes so you walked over to him and reached up. He quickly grabbed your wrist, “I can’t see your face with all this hair in the way.” You mumbled, watching as he let your hand go. Instantly you ran your finger through the dark curls, taking in how soft they were and slowly pushing them out of his face. 

The angry red scarred side of his face made your heart ache. His eye was scarred as well, although you couldn’t see it from far away. His eyes peered down at you as you scanned his face. “You still have some freckles left.” You laughed, seeing the small spots across his nose and cheekbones. Your hands cupped his face and then you noticed the beard. “What the hell is this?” You scoffed, tugging on it gently.

Brahms let out a small chuckle and a grin stretched across his face. “I’ve been working on it for years. This is as far as it’s gotten.” He placed his hands over yours and removed them from his cheeks. “I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you, but you’re the only one I want to be with.”

“You made a promise. You have to keep it.” Your statement surprised the man and he looked at you with a shocked expression. “I don’t agree with what you did to that girl. But that was in the past and I am willing to look over it because I can’t stand trying to forget about you and the way I feel about you.”   

“So you’ll stay.” Brahms said as more of a command than a question but you nodded. 

“I’m not going anywhere this time.” You barley had time to finish your sentence before you felt a pair of warm lips on yours. 

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Help Wanted (chapter two)

Huge thanks again to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian! Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you can! 

-----

Chapters: 1 | 2

----

Anyone who came into the Blooming Grove cafe and smelled the unmistakable scent of a freshly baked cherry and strawberry pie would probably think that was nothing but a positive. That the busy chef must have been in a particularly good mood, to fill the small space with such a fresh, sugary and all round lovely scent.

Beau knew better however.

She hadn’t puzzled out the reason why but she knew that cherry and strawberry pie was something Caduceus only made when he was stressed out. She’d smelled it a lot during his shaky first few months, when no one was really sure if the cafe had a future, before people realised the special kind of magic Caduceus imbibed it with that made people feel so at home when they were inside it’s walls. She also smelled it whenever Cad came into work holding a letter, always the same paper, always the same handwriting though she could never make out any words.

And she wouldn’t. She wasn’t a snoop. She just didn’t miss much.

Though she was pretty sure it had something to do with the very large family Cad would talk about often but whom she never saw visiting or calling or anything. Just those letters, one every few months, that would send Cad into a stress baking haze churning out pies but he’d keep it in his apron pocket like he was scared to let it out of his sight.

But today there was no mystery to why there was suddenly a slice of thick, red oozing delightfulness being set in front of her, dusted with sugar with fruit like shiny garnets. It was because of Fjord.

Beau smirked and dug in with her fork, watching Cad zip back and forth across the cafe like an anxious bee. It was just him and her in the cafe right now, it didn’t open for another two hours. Lucky she woke up so early to do her tai chi in the park with her girl. Well, one of her girls. Getting Jester out of bed before ten was a triumph, Yasha was much easier to coerce.

“If you clean up before he gets here, your new assistant ain't going to have anything to do,” she pointed out, around a mouthful of fruit and sugar.

Caduceus jumped guiltily, “I’m just...just doing odds and ends. I want to be able to show him around.”

Beau wasn’t sure how true that was. Everything about Cad except his words showed how unsettled he still was with the idea of being a two person team.

She rolled her eyes and jabbed her fork at him for emphasis, “Look, we know this place is your baby. We know what it means to you. So we absolutely would not have suggested Fjord if he wasn’t going to be perfect for the job! He’s obsessed with being competent, he’s chill with taking orders, he’s a people person, annoyingly organised, fuck this pie is really good, did you do something new?”

“Touch of balsamic vinegar,” Cad said absently, scratching at the little pink wisps of a beard that grew in when he didn’t trim it, “I’m not saying I don’t...he’s your friend so I want him to be my friend too, I’ve got every faith he’s a good guy but…”

“But you’re nervous,” Beau picks the words up for him, “And that’s fine. But you’re going to give this a shot, get used to it, see that it’s a great idea and everything will be fine. Seriously, I think you and Fjord will really get along.”

Cad’s ears flattened against his head and his eyes were big and doubtful, “I’m not so easy to get along with…”

Beau frowned at that, about to protest, when the bell above the door rang out, the door pushing back almost shyly, like it was scared into interrupt. And then there was Fjord, looking slightly more sunburnt and grizzled than he had the last time Beau saw him, dressed in the same ratty hoodie he used to have back in high school. His hair was in the same style, still short and shaved underneath, though part of it had turned white and he’d clearly not been cutting it while on that ship of his. Though he’d found the time to file his tusks down, they were barely visible.

“Hey man!” Beau jumped down and rushed to give him a quick hug and sock him in the arm, “Look who washed up ashore…”

Fjord laughed, aiming a punch in return that she dodged easily, “Well you’ve not changed at all. Such a shame. And this must be Caduceus…”

Beau turned to make her introductions and explain why the scruffy salt smelling individual was the hard worker she’d promised when Cad’s face stopped her. His ears were bolt upright now, jaw a little slack, a very obvious blush even under his grey fur. And his tail was whipping from side to side at a million miles per hour.

Beau smirked, pleasantly surprised. This was starting to look like a two birds, one stone situation.

“Yeah, it is. Fjord, meet Mister Caduceus Clay.”

You’re acting like a teenager.

Cad had told himself that half a hundred times in the last hour and it wasn’t doing any good. His heart was still going like a Madagascan sunset moth finding a grove of Omphalea plants, his face was ridiculously warm and he was going to have to tuck his tail into his dungarees if it didn’t stop or he was going to break a mug.

Yes, Fjord was handsome. Almost ridiculously so. Now he’d acknowledged that, he could move on and refocus on the extreme anxiety he’d been nursing since yesterday that his cafe was going to collapse and he’d broken all his promises to himself and he’d have to go back home with his tail between his legs. That, at least, had been productive.

“Okay, so this is where I keep all the flours,” he continued, showing the half orc around the kitchen, “I, um...I haven’t labelled any of them because I just had them memorised, I’ll fix that…and I’ll have to write down the recipes they go with too, I just memorised those as well…”

Fjord seemed a little alarmed, “Um...yeah, that would help, I think.”

“Have you ever baked before?” Cad asked, leaning against the stainless steel surface, nicked and scaped by years of use.

Fjord sucked on his lower lip, “Well, I know how to make ship rations taste semi okay? But I don’t think that counts as baking.”

Cad had to chuckle, “No but it does sound like a useful life skill. I’m kind of aiming for a higher caliber than ships rations around here.”

“I’ll say, that pie Beau was eating looked to die for.”

Cad felt his ears pick up, “Oh would you like some? I made, um...five this morning. No reason, I just felt like it.”

He was already moving before Fjord could answer, putting a slice on a nice plate, plenty of cream. His new assistant did look distinctly skinny, like he hadn’t been eating properly. They’d need to sort that out.

Fjord seemed bemused at the sudden appearance of a dessert, smiling crookedly, “Thanks! Looks really good.”

“So maybe I’ll focus on the food prep for a little while and you can handle the front of house until you get more comfortable in the kitchen,” Cad tried not to look like he was hovering, waiting eagerly for Fjord’s reaction to his food.

He wasn’t disappointed. Fjord’s eyes widened and he grinned, showing a pair of filed tusks Cad hadn’t noticed before.

“Wow! This is amazing!” he had the most lovely accent, from somewhere in the South, twanging and drawling in places, wandering like a hard to follow path, “I must say, I’ve never eaten anything as nice as that!”

You’re acting like a smitten teenager, stop it. Stop blushing!

“I don’t know about that,” he cleared his throat, tangling his hands in the strings of his apron, “But you’re very kind to say so.”

“I think I’m gonna like working here,” Fjords’ grin was lopsided and full of cheek, just as a dashing pirate’s would be. Then suddenly it faltered, like a curtain had ruffled in the breeze and revealed something completely different, scenery turning out to be nothing but a backdrop on a stage, “I mean, if you’re going to hire me.”

Cad found himself smiling, something stirring in his chest, something separate to the silly crush that had landed so suddenly in his lap, “Any friend of the Nein is my friend too. And I think I’d quite like to work with a friend.”

Fjord tilted his head to one side, looking delighted, “Y’know, that sounds mighty fine to me too.”

Cad’s fur puffed up around his neck, like it did when he was happy. Or startled.

“Yes! Okay, I’ll take you through the plant care schedule. That’s probably the most important thing.”

Fjord looked like he didn’t understand, eyes drifting over all of the greenery in the place. Even in the kitchen there were succulents in the window, the ivy running through the ceiling and the myriad of fresh vegetables and herbs in the greenhouse out the back door that Cad had managed to cram in their tiny courtyard (with a little magic assistance).

“Plant care? Don’t you just...water them?”

Cad started at him for a heartbeat then burst out laughing, Fjord’s expression only getting more confused.

He was going to enjoy it. But it was going to be hard work.

They were halfway through their first day as a two man operation and things were going rather well, as Cad was sternly telling whatever flickers of anxiety still flitted in his chest.

He was in the kitchen, gloves of flour and water pasted up to his elbows, rolling out rough into podgy rectangles. His ears flickered and tail swayed in time with the music, but his ears were listening to something else. Fjord’s voice, still a little jarring to hear when he wasn’t used to it, out at the counter, taking orders and calling them out. He flirted shamelessly, he charmed, he joked and laughed. Beau had been right, he was a people person. Cad had no doubt the tip jar would be bursting at the seams when he next checked it.

“Hey, Caddy!”

Cad turned from his dough to see Fjord in the doorway. His spare apron was clearly too big for the half orc, nearly touching the floor, but he hadn’t had time to make one for him. Tomorrow, he’d do it, now he knew his size.

Even so, with a cloth poking out from the pocket and a pad of paper in his hand and a little pencil behind his ear, Fjord almost looked like he belonged.

“This nice lady’s asking for chamomile and apple tea,” he called over the chatter from the customers beyond, “Whereabouts would that be?”

Cad gave an apologetic smile. Another thing that was apparently unlabelled were the nearly hundreds of tea tins that sat in haphazard rows, making the place look like an apothecary. Something else he needed to do. And maybe he’d actually have the time to now.

“Third shelf down, fourth tin from the left,” Cad closed his eyes to picture it, just to make sure he got it right. Some of the things in those tins were more...experimental blends. He couldn’t imagine them going down very well.

“Gotcha,” Fjord flashed him that grin again, “Thanks Captain.”

“I told you, you don’t have to call me that,” Cad called after him, laughing.

You really, really need to stop.

But the strange thing was, the voice was getting quieter every time. Part of Cad was wondering why he had to stop at all. Wasn’t this part of the reason he’d left the grove- the actual grove? He’d wanted freedom, to see how it felt to be Caduceus rather than just a Clay. He’d wanted some control over his own life and choices.

Maybe there were some choices he hadn’t even known he’d get. Possibilities he hadn’t considered.

Now Cad was smiling as he rolled out his squares of focaccia, ready to sprinkle with cracked pepper and salt and herbs. He’d make an extra for Fjord to take home, maybe he’d like that. Suddenly he wanted to know everything about him, his tastes and likes and dislikes, what he did in his spare time, what he looked like just out of bed.

He was definitely acting like a smitten teenager in the spring. But he didn’t think that was such a bad thing now.

The rest of the day went alright. There were bumps in the road, of course. A tray of croissants got burned when Fjord lost track of himself bussing tables but he was incredibly apologetic and offered to remake them. Not that he had the first clue how to shape them. But maybe Cad could show him?

But it had been an incredibly busy day of rare sunshine and clear skies and Cad didn’t feel like he was running on empty at the end of it. That was certainly a success of some sort.

Members of the Nein had been coming in ones and twos all day to yell in delight at the sight of Fjord, home again. It was nice to see, a missing piece coming back to where it was supposed to be, fitting in like it had never been away. It sat a little melancholic in Cad’s chest, for a reason he was very aware of but didn’t want to think about so he’d pretend he didn’t know. But then he’d get swept up in it, Jester or Molly or Veth bringing him over to share in the happiness and he would feel so much better.

Those had been bright spots in the constant tide of conversation that flowed through the Grove. And now Caduceus was wiping down the surfaces in the kitchen, Fjord out front handling the last of the customers, mostly people swinging by to pick up something for their dinners. The light was heady and orange again, all the light and none of the warmth as the end of the day brought cooler breezes than before, chasing away the lingering heat.

And Cad’s ears picked up again as the conversation changed, as Fjord’s voice changed from the customer service voice he’d easily slipped on that morning. And Cad followed eagerly, only realising when he got to the doorway of the kitchen that there were no members of the Nein left to come see Fjord.

Instead there was an elven woman behind the counter, immediately stunning in appearance with her fountain of red curls, impressive even with them tied in a knot at the nape of her neck. Standing there she seemed so sure, effortless, her posture somehow arrogant and challenging. She was dressed in sea colours, a long scarf wound once round her neck and loosely draped over her shoulders like a snake and her hat would have been ridiculous on anyone else who didn’t wear it with such simple confidence.

Cad’s ears picked up at their continued conversation, Fjord speaking. From behind, he seemed tense, like something had set him on guard.

‘You don’t have to be a jerk, Avantika,” Fjord was saying, “I actually had a really good day. I think I like working here.”

“Well,” the elf’s voice was liquid gold, her accent very different from Fjord’s, “It’ll do. We’ll get you back on the waves soon, dear. No need to convince yourself.”

“I’m not…” Fjord’s voice hardened but then he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, letting go, “I’m going to close up then I’ll be back at your place. Thanks again for...for letting me stay.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, dear,” the woman seemed to always have other words lurking behind the one’s she spoke, “Don’t be too late. I’m not in the mood to wait up.”

“Right,” his reply was short and clipped, still in the tone of not wanting a fight.

And then he leaned forward, over the counter, and kissed her. Not a long kiss and Fjord’s shoulders stayed tense but there it was. And Cad fled back into the kitchen.

“Remember, don’t be late,” he heard her reply and the click of boots on the wooden bloor, the bell ringing out her departure.

Fjord came in a little while later, apparently not noticing that Cad had been wiping down the same four workbenches for nearly fifty minutes.

“Okay, that’s eight,” he said brightly, like the exchange had never happened, “Gonna teach me how to clear up?”

Cad looked up, his smile thin and tired, “You know, I think I’ve filled your head with enough today. We can cover that tomorrow, why don’t you head out early. I can take care of things here.”

Fjord paused, looking a little dismayed, “I mean...if you’re sure? I really don’t mind.”

Cad cut across his gentle protest before he could talk himself into staying, “It’s only your first day. I’m not looking to scare you off already. Go on, get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Fjord blinked, nodding slowly, “Right. Okay...um, thanks, Cad.”

Cad gave a nod and a non committal wave, turning back to his work.

“I really mean it,” Fjord unwound the ties of his apron, tied in the front just the way Cad had shown him, “I had a great day today and I learned a lot. Thank you.”

Cad made himself look up, really look at Fjord, standing in his kitchen doorway, flour on his sleeves and hair pushed back awkwardly with a bandanna. And he smiled, softer this time.

“You’re welcome, Fjord. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Looking happier, Fjord grabbed the bag he’d come in with and gave him a wave, heading out. And Cad still watched, still smiled. And he felt like an idiot.

I told you so.

[captainchrisfics]

Good Stuff

About: Chris Evans comes home to find our narrator still buried in bed and dealing with a bout of anxiety. He offers love, support, and coping skills to boot in this short and sweet fic.

Word Count: 2,274

Requested By: @peaky-shelby - Thanks for sending this my way! It’s been a minute since I’ve written some unapologetic fluff so it was a nice change of pace :)

Warning(s): As the about says, this is a first-person pov narrator going through a bit of anxiety so if reading something in that sort of headspace would be triggering, please pass up on this one.

“Hey, babe!” Chris called through our apartment. His feet pitter-pattered across the hallway’s wooden floor, doors creaking as they opened and closed in his search for me. The window was open, letting in the noise of Boston’s honking traffic far below us and police sirens in the distance, but that’s not why his voice was muffled. Instead, I could hardly hear him over the fuzzy television static in my head the rushing blood in my ears. 

Finally, the door to our bedroom opened and slowly, as if the air was made of molasses, I turned to him. Chris looked like he had a question on the tip of his tongue, but it couldn’t quite leave his lips. His mouth hung open in the slightest as he dropped his eyebrows, face softening with concern while his hand slipped from the doorknob and fell to his side. His other hand gripped the doorframe. 

“Everything alright?” Chris asked even though I could guarantee he knew the answer. His voice was tentative, like he wasn’t too sure he wouldn’t scare me off with the wrong words. Hell, he hesitated to even walk into his own bedroom. 

Chris probably saw it coming, he could tell when I was getting bad again. When my appetite wasn’t the same, when our conversations became few and far between, when my hands shook even a little more than usual. He caught all of it, sometimes even when I didn’t. 

“Yeah, fine,” I answered with the stiff upper lip that’d become my defense mechanism. It was so involuntary, like a primitive reflex I couldn’t control, that I had to backtrack. This was Chris asking me after all, if I couldn’t be honest with him then I really had nothing. “I mean...” I paused to let out a heavy sigh, trying to practice the deep breathing he always encouraged me to. I closed my eyes, knowing that I couldn’t ask him to worry about me with that painful look of concern etched on his face, as I admitted against my better judgment, “No. I just- I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s wrong. I just feel so...” 

My fists tightened around the comforter I was buried under as the words snowballed out of me with a new force as if hearing them out loud gave my feelings a new tangibility, hitting my chest like an avalanche. I felt so nothing, but not in an absent way. It was more like I felt so many things all at once, thought more than a brain could possibly think simultaneously, that it all blurred together into an incomprehensible mess. All I could make of my brain was one big does-not-compute error message. 

But how do you say that? How could I look the love of my life, someone who wanted nothing other than my happiness, and tell him I felt everything other than that? My mouth pressed into a hard line while my eyes squeezed tight, unable to describe the tension tugging at my heartstrings making me feel like I was about to snap. Instead of offering anything coherent, I concluded with a frustrated scream to let out steam I suffocated with the blanket at my knees.

Chris had woken up, made breakfast, went to the gym, and gone grocery shopping since I’d last seen him. He’d listed off every errand he had for the day before he left that morning and now he was back, having completed so much by comparison. As for me? I was too overwhelmed to do much other than sit up in bed. Needless to say, it made me feel a hell of a lot worse. 

“Hey...” Chris tried to soothe me. He was at my side in an instant, rubbing slow circles on my back as he shushed me. “Hey, try to breathe. I know what you mean. I know you’ll get through it,” Chris promised with an impossible understanding. Without taking his hand off my shoulder, he sat across from me. I felt the mattress dip with his weight, its springs letting out a groan that didn’t come close to competing with mine.

“C’mon, baby, look at me,” Chris implored, holding his hands over mine until my grip softened as if I was melting because of his heat. My gaze moved to meet his, although my vision was blurry with brimming tears. Chris laced our fingers together as he insisted, “You are so much stronger than this.” 

“Doesn’t feel like it,” I mumbled after a minute of trying to muster the vulnerability again. My eyes farted everywhere other than his and all of their intense sincerity. 

Of all people, Chris understood. He knew how I was feeling, he knew exactly what I needed to hear because he’d needed to hear them too. He pressed his lips to my forehead in a long kiss like he was trying so hard to transfer every one of his positive thoughts. 

“May not,” Chris murmured against my skin, his beard causing an irritation that didn’t even almost outweigh the delight. “But I know it for a fact. I mean, your brain is only so much of you, you know? Sometimes there’s a...” He paused to bite his bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “Almost like a disconnect, but it’ll pass, it always does. You’re one of the most grounded people I know,” Chris said with so much candor I almost believed him. 

But hearing it and feeling it are two very different things. Grounded was the very last feeling on the list of many. If anything, it was more like I’d exited the atmosphere hours ago, floating past Jupiter, completely alone and running out of air by the second. 

Then Chris reaches out to me, pulling me into his chest like an astronaut’s tether tugging them home. He held me close so my ear pressed against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat giving me something to focus on other than the rapid pace of my own. I leaned into him, relishing in the soft fabric of his sweater despite the warmer weather. Chris held my hands so they’d stop shaking as he told me to breathe with him, counting our inhales and exhales and the time in between until mine grew more steady. 

“Tell me what you’re experiencing,” he said, wrapping his arms around me without letting go of my grip. 

“I-I can’t put it into words, Chris, I thought you-“ I stuttered as my voice broke and a few tears slipped from my eyes. For once, I felt understood by someone else at a time when I couldn’t even do so myself, but apparently that was just wishful thinking. 

“No,” Chris corrected quickly. “I mean more like how I feel your hair tickling my neck and a breeze from the fan. And I hear those baby birds chirping from their nest in the tree right outside the window. I smell...” he paused to take a deep breath. “I smell your shampoo, it’s like flowers or something sweet, and fish, too. That’s hopefully the harbor, though,” Chris continued with more confidence, practicing an exercise he’d picked up in therapy. The idea was to identify every sense you were experiencing, giving your brain something to focus on other than its own white noise in an attempt to stay present. 

“Oh...” I sighed with downcast eyes that landed on our joined hands. I never thought this worked very much, actually it made me feel pretty silly, but I figured I could at least try for him. “I feel... hot. It’s you, you’re like a human fucking radiator, Evans. It’s unnatural.” I kicked the blankets to the foot of the bed in an attempt to cool off, but my boyfriend only laughed so hard his whole chest shook. “And I hear all that traffic outside. I don’t know how you picked up chirping over those horns, but I guess I hear it now too.”

Chris hummed in acknowledgment. “It’s a nicer one. I know it doesn’t solve everything, but sometimes you’ve got to focus on the good stuff, you know?” he said with a shrug, keeping his voice calm. I stretched to look at him, those blue eyes holding nothing but love and a lazy smile on his lips. His beard was growing fluffy, making him look softer than usual, and his dark hair was fluffy and disheveled to say the least like he’d been running a stressed hand through it all morning. His lips were chapped from being chewed on and under his eyes were purple and wrinkled with tiredness, but Chris was beautiful. The more I stared, the more Chris’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I realized he was a lot of my light at the end of the tunnel when I suddenly had an emotion I could identify. It wasn’t any easier to express with words, but it was everything I felt for him. 

“You’re my good stuff,” I said smally, just barely above a whisper. Chris’s cracked lips stretched into a wide smile while he rolled his eyes. His cheeks started to turn tomato red with a furious blush he couldn’t brush off as nonchalantly. 

He caressed my cheek with a strong hand and wiped away a few of my shed tears with a stretch of his thumb. “And you’re mine,” Chris responded like an oath, placing a sweet kiss on my lips. His beard may have scratched my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach may have been launched into a nauseating whirlwind, but for the first time that day, I felt a peace only he seemed to bring.

Tags:  @patzammit​ , @thegetawaywriter​ , @coffeebooksandfandom​ , @captainsteveevans​ , @intrepidandabitcrazy​ , @super100012​ , @spilledinkindumpster​ , @torntaltos , @amiquette

If you’d like to be tagged in my future fics, please reply to this post. x

[paellaplease]

Firebird | Chap.6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Apologies for the long wait, everyone!

Chapter 6: Of Monsters and Metals Part 1. 

Strength is not measured by your willingness to meet fear’s gaze...

*

Revali dove, slowed, and eventually landed, talons gracefully touching down on the rocky ground below them like a falling leaf to water.

Maiya lifted her head from his shoulder, the smell and sounds of waves crashing into stone washing over her as she opened her eyes. Looking around, she saw that they were standing on a long slab of rock, hovering above the tumultuous waters of Lake Totori.

Another departure deck, her mind supplied for her.

The hylian quickly clambered off the rito’s back, the freshwater spray chilling her to the bone. She realised just how much warmth Revali’s feathers had provided her, feeling the full brunt of the elements as she pulled away. Maiya shivered, regretting her earlier decision in leaving her thicker coat at the inn.

As her feet touched the earth, her legs immediately gave way.

“Holy— ”

Revali caught her arm, steadying her moments before she smacked into the ground.

“Give it a moment.”

“No, it’s alright.”

Stubbornly, Maiya took another step forward. The rito warrior clicked his tongue as he caught her again. “You are unaccustomed to flight. Stand still and move your feet slowly, let the normal flow of blood return to your legs. Unless of course you’re extremely keen on acquainting yourself with the floor.”

Embarrassment colouring her cheeks, Maiya closed her mouth and turned her head away, allowing herself to lean on him but refusing to look him in the eye. She stared forward into the distance, surveying their surroundings as she waited for the tingling feeling in her legs to disappear. As her eyes adjusted, all she could see was a looming cliff before her and a thick wall of evening fog. Night had set in around them, making visibility difficult in the dying light.

“So...where is that cave we saw earlier?”

Revali’s free wing pointed down to the empty space in front of them, following along the platform until the point where she guessed it would connect to the cliff a few metres away. “On the other side of this departure deck, beyond the fog.”

The Enchanter pulled her jacket closer as another strong gust of wind blew past, mussing up her dark hair again and cooling the sweat on her brow. Small waves continued to crash against the platform, powerful enough at times she swore she could feel the ground shudder. Quietly, she marvelled at how different the scenery appeared in comparison to what she saw in the sky earlier. From afar, the cave seemed so...removed— detached in its stillness. Now up close it felt like she was in the midst of a storm.

What an odd place to have a smithy. “So your forge is cut into the rock holding your village aloft in the sky?”

The rito warrior’s jade eyes were still trained at the distance in front of them as he regarded her evenly. “We are still within village grounds, enchanter.” His expression turned thoughtful. “And that is more than just a rock in the middle of the lake. The cliff face you see in front of you is Wayrakuchuyna, or simply Wayra. She is ancient, older than Chief Kamori and many of those before him, and is the foundation from which Valoo’s Spire was carved.”

“Thats,” Maiya paused, mulling over her words. “That’s actually very interesting. I thought the Spire was carved by your people?”

“Carved by the wind.” The rito corrected her, the rarest hint of a smile in his voice. “Technically speaking, we are underneath the main village structure. Valoo’s Spire is the epicentre of our way of life. However, Wayra had been a part of my people for as long as rito could fly.”

“As such, according to Chief’s Law, so long as we are connected to her, we are always home.” He looked up, gazing at the cliff-face for a quiet moment.

Maiya tilted her head, mimicking his stance. Due to the angle from where they stood, she found it difficult to spot the Spire amongst the rocks and fog. She only managed to catch the faint details of the bridge she’d crossed a day ago, hanging far away in the air above them, illuminated by the waning gibbous moon.

Feeling that enough time had passed, she gave her leg an experimental shake, relieved that the pins and needles had finally subsided. “Hey...I think my legs are back to normal.”

“Continue forward if you must then. You are capable of making your own decisions.”

“I would but,” despite her irritation at his previous comment, she allowed a laugh to slip through. She cleared her throat and pointed to her shoulder. “You can let go now.”

Feathers rising, Revali quickly withdrew his wing, stepping to the side. “Take caution where you tread,” he groused, suddenly very interested in readjusting his pauldrons. “I won’t be responsible if your clumsiness results in you cracking a few eggs.”

The Enchanter shrugged, too tired to deal with the rito’s changing moods, and started walking.

Both hylian and rito made haste across the departure deck, the gaping maw of the forge’s main entrance slowly coming into view. The cave-like opening was tall as it was wide, and Maiya estimated it would easily fit about three of her across. Enshrouded in fog; dark and foreboding, it looked to suck all life into it until there was nothing but open emptiness.

Except it wasn’t empty.

“Someone's there.” She murmured.

Smoke escaped from the mysterious figure's pipe, making them appear like a shadow in the creeping darkness. They were leaning against a tall and looming object. Upon closer inspection it revealed itself to be a heavy metal door, several locks lining its side.

Their face flickered by the flame of a rusty sconce, wavering in the midst of blistering winds. They had feathers of mottled black and white, and a jet black scraggly beard which was pulled into two hanging braids. They stood as if dragged down by the weight of the world — a hunch curving their back and an elderly face dominated by two white-feathered brows pinched together in a scowl. Whilst unable to see their eyes, she still had a feeling that they were watching them closely, eyeing them like a hawk as they drew closer.

Above them, a sign swung and creaked in the whistling wind. Jackdaw Metalworks and Weaponry it read, complete with a carving of two rito's and an anvil resting between them.

“Yieni,” Revali said from behind her, voice unusually careful and diplomatic. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Allin tuta, it has been a while.”

Maiya’s eyes widened in alarm. Yieni? Then that means—

The Blacksmith lifted his head, revealing a pair of fierce, cloudy eyes. He threw Revali a questioning look, before zeroing in on the Enchanter and the dagger that hung innocently at her hip. Maiya felt frozen in place, the rito’s glare piercing in its quiet fury. It was as if he was surveying a defective sword, seeking what was left of its worth.

Revali gently nudged her with his wing, pulling her from her thoughts. "Courage now," he whispered.

Maiya grimaced, straightening her back and ignoring the rope of anxiety knotting in her chest. She cleared her throat. “Good evening, Yieni." She didn't think it was possible, but his scowl deepend. Don't panic, just continue. "I am Maiya from the land of Akkala and I’m hoping you can answer some questions regarding— ”

“Get out.”

She blinked. “Pardon me but wha—”

“I said get out! Leave this place." He rasped, smoke escaping his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he glared daggers at the blue rito. “What in the void possessed you to bring an Enchanter to my doorstep, Revali?”

The warrior raised his wings up as if in surrender. “I mean no offense, Yieni.”

“Hah!” The elderly rito hunched over as a dry cough racked through him. "I cannot imagine what inane quest has sent you here but we’ve had enough trouble brought upon by your kind, Enchanter. Now run back to your teacher and never show your face on my property again.”

Maiya’s felt her enthusiasm drain, her gloved hand warming alongside the bubbling of her unease. "You don’t understand. So much of my people’s knowledge has been lost. I know you have a level understanding of our craft. Please.” Fucking listen!

The rito shook his head. “I’ve been bitten more than once by feeding the rabid dog. I refuse to extend my arm out once more as it bears its teeth."

“That makes no sense!”

"I make no deals with Enchanters,” he spat. “Make sense of that, child.” Putting his cigar out, Yieni wrenched the heavy door behind him open, stepping through.

Maiya raced forward. “Wait, hold on!”

The door was slammed shut, cold metal inches from bruising her nose. She took a step back, bumping into the warrior behind her.

Maiya looked at him, the locked door, and slumped. “Okay, perhaps I need to rethink my strategy here." Or perhaps he really hates Enchanters and I'm just wasting my time.

Revali crossed his wings. “Perhaps?” he said, beak curving. “A welcome like that and you honestly still think you have a wing in the door?"

The Enchanter looked to the open lake, feeling cold droplets hit her face as the rain above began to fall. "This would have been a waste of time if I decide to give up now." She rolled her shoulders, ignoring Revali's muttered “Evidently” and bunched up her sleeves. “I’m not leaving til that door opens.”

The blue rito moved to the side, gesturing her forward with an exaggerated wave of his feathers. “The floor is yours.”

Maiya clenched her jaw and moved to knock again.

Knock, knock. Her first attempt garnerd no response.

Knock, knock, bang! As did her second.

“Stubborn old bird.”

She felt the veins in her left hand begin to burn again, the rune no doubt responding to the shock and stress of the day’s events. Taking the glove off, she shook her hand vigorously in the air, trying to cool down the scar which had heated up considerably in the past few minutes. The edges glowed a light blue. She hissed.

“Are you well?” Revali asked.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Good going, he thinks you're going to burn the place down now. “Nothing, ignore me. Stinging as always.”

Gritting her teeth, she raised her left hand again. She was inches away from slamming it into the door when the metal surface shuddered.

Reflexively, Revali reached for his bow. Maiya held a hand up, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. “Wait—”

She took a cautious step back as the clicks of several locks were heard, the unusual symphony joined by a cacophony of keys turning, latches being pulled, and bars sliding to the side. Smoke left hidden pockets located at the hinges, making a hissing noise as billowing clouds escaped from the cracks, dissipating into the surrounding darkness.

A creak and screech echoed, the sound ricocheting off the rock and making small pebbles fall from their perches. Metal scraped against metal, joining the activity as the noise reached a crescendo, building up until suddenly— there was silence.

Maiya released the breath she was holding, clutching her gloved hand to her chest. "Did I do that?"

"No,” Revali said. He pointed to a rounded mirror-like object which hung above the burning sconce, something Maiya thought was merely for decoration. "That glass is not reflecting our images…”

At that moment, the flame went out.

“Someone’s watching us.”

And the door swung open with a bang.

Lying before them was a dark corridor. It was cold and eerie, a void tunneling into the rock. Maiya was surprised to find that no one was on the other side to greet them, and wondered briefly how the door could have opened by itself. “There’s something mysterious at work here,” she whispered.

It was completely barren except for a small hanging lantern at the furthest part of the hall. The quivering flame marked the beginning of a spiral staircase, its flickering light illuminating the start of stone steps leading down.

The Enchanter stared into the darkness, fear of the unknown making her hesitate. As she retreated into herself, she took a step back, her hand brushing the hilt of her dagger. The latent energy within it sent a small spark up her fingers, and for a moment she remembered the way it spluttered and burned within the confines of the Blacksmith’s clamp.

Her mentor’s words reverberated in her mind. ‘Do not let fear dictate your freedom.’

Maiya groaned, stepping foot into the dark corridor and began walking with renewed purpose. “Into the unknown, let’s go.” She grumbled. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

She was surprised to hear Revali following close behind her, the sound of talons against stone echoing throughout the passageway. Pausing abruptly, she swivelled around to face him, taken aback by how close he suddenly was.

She backpedalled and crossed her arms, ignoring how he was only a step away. “Hold on. You’re coming with me?”

Revali mirrored her stance, folding his wings. He looked at her pointedly. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there’s no stairway to the Spire from here.”

“So you’re sticking around to fly me back up, huh?”

“Precisely.”

Maiya huffed, lifting her head higher to glare at him. “Chief Kamori told you to watch me, didn’t he?”

He wasn’t even looking at her, choosing this moment to inspect the feathers on one of his wings. He flexed it in front of him as a hylian would when checking their nails. “You wound me, enchanter,” he said, voice bored. “Do you really believe I’d make you scale the cliff in the dark?”

“Oh.” She laughed humorlessly, turning around to continue her brisk walk to the end of the hall. “Absolutely.”

 Maiya kept a steady palm on the smooth stone column beside her as they continued deeper into the cave. In their descent, she traced the lines of the column, feeling it grow colder the further they travelled into the cavern in almost full darkness. It was one of the few times she was grateful for the dull glow of her hand, leading the way and stopping her from taking a bone-breaking tumble to the bottom floor. At least the stress did something good for once.

The spiral staircase seemed to wind forever, eventually unfurling and flattening, lantern light appearing in the distance as they reached the very last step. They eventually found themselves in an open room, under a high ceiling full of vents.

The Enchanter marvelled at the flow of the air as she watched smoke leave like ribbons through hidden pockets in the room, seemingly replaced by a fresh batch almost instantaneously with the lift of a vent in the ceiling.

It appeared that most of the heat in the room was originating from the giant metal structure sitting at its centre. Blackened and spluttering soot, its presence dominated most of the space; a metal monster with a belly reddened by flames.

The forge’s oven.

The familiar clang of hammer on iron reached her ears, followed by the hiss of steam as it was dipped in the slack tub. The hylian was immediately transported back in time, remembering the workshop in Akkala and the days she spent as a young girl observing Teacher in her workspace.

Maiya was but a novice then, but the silver-haired woman was always in her element. She could recall watching her mentor hammer out a swordsman’s blade, forgetting her notes and daydreaming instead of the moment she would finally decipher the secrets of the anvil and impress the Sheikah Enchanter with her first proper weapon.

Except you failed her, she thought bitterly. No matter how hard you try to make amends, your dagger has rejected its master. And in that, you have failed your purpose.

Maiya blinked back into reality, the figure she saw standing in the middle of the forge no longer her mentor. No, Maiya realised. The person holding a cooling blade in the air wasn't even rito.

Seeing her step into the room, the smith rested the blade on the edges of a clay bath. As they lifted the protective mask obscuring their face, Maiya's eyes caught a teal fin peeking from behind it. A fish? Her mind stuttered.

The mask was lifted further, revealing a lean face and sharp smiling teeth. They stood with a straight back, posture impeccable as they smoothed their leather apron over.

A zora!

“Good evening, Traveler,” they said, voice soft and polite as small bells. They looked at her calmly, golden eyes serene. Maiya’s eyes caught the intricate silver ornaments decorating the side of their face, hearing them clink as they removed the mask entirely.

The zora angled their head higher, finally seeing the person behind her. “What a surprise, Master Revali.”

“Uleh.” The rito nodded curtly.

Maiya looked between the two of them. She noticed some soot staining the Zora's arms and cheeks, painting their shining scales a smoky grey.

Coughing into a closed fist, they cleared their throat. “Apologies for earlier. I’m not sure what’s gotten into Mister Yieni this evening. He is usually more accommodating, but I theorise that the wine might have been more potent than usual."

"You're his assistant?" Maiya asked.

"An Artificer." They corrected. “You could say I’m on...an extended industrial study tour.” The zora smiled to themself, enjoying their own inside joke, before bowing low. “I welcome you, Enchanter. It has been many years since someone of your vocation has stepped foot in ‘Jackdaw’s. I would offer my palm for the greeting but,” they raised both their gloved hands, “I must keep these on for the time being. There is much work that needs to be done.”

Maiya blinked, still bracing herself for the anger that ultimately never materialized. “Hold on. You know I’m an Enchanter? Why then...why haven’t you yet—”

“Kicked you out as Mister Yieni had?”

“Yes.”

“I hold no quarrel against you or your people.” They said, beginning to coat the blade in clay, expertly avoiding its edges. “In fact, I want to help you.”

The Enchanter did not immediately celebrate, silent for a moment and lost to her own thoughts. As much as she was happily surprised by this stranger’s willingness to assist her, she was once again hit by a gut-punching suspicion that had been plaguing her mind since she left the village’s library.

She was slowly learning that there’s always some sort of catch.

"And what exactly does this help entail?" Revali asked, reading into her discomfort.

"Simple,” Uleh said, gently painting the finishing touches of the clay coating with a brush. "I need you to extract a rare ingredient the forge has been lacking in for awhile. After you’ve done that, I can arrange a meeting.”

Maiya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unconvinced. “How can you be sure he would want to converse with me in the first place?”

Uleh chuckled, clipping the blade into a wooden holder to dry. "Mister Yieni can be ill-tempered, prejudiced and especially cantankerous, but he will always honour a good deal." The zora looked up at her, golden eyes gleaming. "Find him that ingredient, offer it in exchange for information, and he will answer whatever you ask him."

Maiya eyed the silver jewellery framing Uleh’s face, thin and long sheets twisted like intermingling spirals. Ultimately, it would be within her best interest to trust them. She’d just have to roll with the punches and accept the consequences of what was to come after that. She could compare her situation to skipping stones. Nothing left but to cast the rock and count the ripples from the sidelines.

Your willingness to trust will get you trouble one day, my dear. Her mentor’s ever serious voice echoed warningly.

The hylian rubbed her eyes, too tired to argue with herself anymore. Grab the ingredient and strike a deal. Easy. She thought to herself. It's okay. It will be okay. That just leaves me with...

Gazing up, she flashed Revali a tentative grin. The sharp lines of the rito’s face softened a fraction, then fell back into its default haughty glare as he looked away. "What is it?" He asked sourly.

"...are you going to help me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Well, I'm going regardless."

Revali sent her a knowing look. "And you will probably encounter trouble along the way.

The hylian shrugged, unbothered. "It's not a given but with the increase of monster activity out there, coupled with some Yiga sightings, I probably will—"

"Then the answer is obvious."

"You don't have to be rude about it."

"You shouldn't ask moronic questions you know the answer to."

"Fine!"

"Fine."

Maiya shook her head, turning back to the zora who was still patiently waiting for her answer. She cleared her throat, trying to regain whatever professional dignity she'd shed in the past minute. “If it will grant me an audience with the Blacksmith, then I'll do it."

Uleh's face broke out into a smile. “Fantastic.”

Rising from their sitting position, the zora picked the blade up with their iron tongs, carrying it back to the oven. As they plunged it back into the red hot embers, the fire casted dancing lights and shadows against their teeth, drawing Maiya’s attention as they spoke their next words.

“Now onto business. Have you ever heard of a Frost Talus, Enchanter?”

[voidgremlin]

An oath to Hope

Doctor who human au fanfic

Chapter 1: I think I met a shooting star.

“Park Hill enter D, presumed TWOC with IC1 (‘individual of white skinned European appearance’) female”

A junior officer with dark brown hair in a tight bun turned her head expectedly to her colleague, a lean man with messy brown hair and an as well messy beard who winked at her. He was her senior for her training and couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

“Patrol 7 on it.”

PC Khan asked “What is TWOC ?”

“Well… It is… mhm. I guess it is when someone lose their car keys and try to jimmy their way in. In the dark of the night ? Something like that.” Kenny said with a thick Scottish accent.

“So it’s vehicle theft ?”

“I mean… We can’t assume thievery right away, it is a presumed Taking without owner’s consent ! And who need cars nowadays ?”

Yasmin chuckled “You would be surprised on how many would contradict you sir.”

“By the way, isn’t Park Hill where you live ?”

“Oh my stars ! It is ! We got to go very quickly !” She exclaimed quickening her steps to the car. “I am driving sir.”

“Alright but no need to call me sir !” He said throwing her the keys .

As Yasmin Khan drove them to the potential crime scene. Her senior started to lean in his chair ignoring seatbelt and his legs unto the tabletop of the car. Rambling about the nightshift hours and it made his skin itchy that it could be his alleged time sickness, it only made Yasmin roll her eyes in silence.

Arriving to the Park Hill estate illuminated by the yellow light of many street lamps. Yasmin quickly made her way on the parking lot searching for the thief. Be it was quiet, it looked like nothing.

Agent Coinneich Tàileach or better known as Kenny ran by her side.

“Why are you running PC Khan ? You know this TWOC might be just ten racoons under a coat ?”

“A what”

“Racoons. Or a ghost … who knows ?”

“It is definitely not ghost” Yasmin pointed out to a Pontiac blue car with the highlights on, illuminating another car, trunk and hood opened, wires spilling out with a short woman arms full of sludge, blonde hair tied up in a lousy ponytail.

Yasmin knew that car, it was her neighbor’s and she pulled out her flashlight directed to the woman’s face.

“Hi ?”

The woman turned her head toward Yasmin and to be plainly honest she got a quite beautiful face.

“Hi !”  Oh scratch that ! Now the woman smiled and she got now a way more pretty face and Yaz could feel her face burning up.

“What…” The junior agent turned to her senior who seemed quite interested about the whole situation and wasn’t about to help with it. “What are you doing ma’am ?”.

“I. AM. UHM. NOT. CARJACKING.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“No ! I am repairing ! The car it made a sound like RATATATATATATA for quite a while !” she made wild gesture while making the sounds as loud as possible.

“Madam you need to quiet down a bit, it is 2 a.m.”

“Who ?”

“You.”

“Oh ! Madam is me ! Alright yeah ! I will shhhhh” she made the motion on her lips, her smile still so beautiful.

Yaz made a few step toward the woman, noticed a grey coat lying on the ground next to O’Brian’s car. The blonde woman was jittery and not making eye contact.

“Anyway, car was making a noise and the man who drives it seems to not want to get her to a mechanic soooo I brought a mechanic !”

“Who ?”

“Me ! It could have been bad ! Maybe explosion bad ! Like BAM no mister Graham ! And yeah, we don’t want that !”

Yasmin frowned at the mention of mister O’Brian name but didn’t pursued, instead looked at the mechanic, she was a little gaunt, didn’t seemed to have slept in while.

“You know, you could let the car alone for tonight and I know mister O’Brian” Yasmin said while motioning to her chest. “I will tell him about the car and we will get it fixed. Alright ?”

But the woman didn’t listened. She went right back into the car, mumbling to herself. “No, no, no I can do it myself, I am able to do it. I can fix it. No more sounds !”

Kenny looked at Yaz and encouraged her to keep talking to the mystery while he called to the station to inform of the lack of thievery, pretending that it was neighbor being an asshole. Yasmin walked beside the mechanic whose hands kept shaking. She won’t be able to fix anything.

“Hello, my name is Yasmin.”

The woman kept her eyes down to the motor, making a fist to hide her weakness.

“Hi, I’m Nadzieja.”

“So what is wrong with the car of the old man ?”

It made her smile. “Well, the sound is because the serpentine belt is getting loose and it if breaks it would… Just break everything else.”

“Alright, it seems like a big problem, how can I help ?”

She looked at her like Yaz said some kind of magic. “Oh I love you, you sounds brilliant !” then proceeded to instruct to her how to change the serpentine with clear instruction which Yasmin tried to follow with a lot of mistakes. But she  learned a whole lot and finally succeeded when the morning started to show.

“Oh my bloody stars ! We made it ! We saved the car !” Nadzieja screamed in victory when the motor roared with a bloody sound.

“Yeah !” Yasmin smiled, tired, sweaty but victorious.

The scream made birds fly away and woke up the poor colleague who was trying to take a nap. He made a weak fist bump into the air in support. They slowly cleaned up their mess, the mystery woman’s hands weren’t shaking anymore and Yasmin felt like she made the universe a little more brighter.

“So do you wish we accompany you to your home ?”

“Uh ?”

“Your home ? Do you live in the estate ?”

“Oh no !” She said while putting off the highlights of the blue car. “I sleep in there !”

“In your car ?”

“Yeah ! I travel a lot ! So… “ she slapped the wheel of the car “That is my home.”

“I… ok ?”

Nadzieja nodded to her wildly. “That being said officers ! I wish you goodnight !” and laid down in the back seat, holding a yellow blanket to her chin. Not bothering with the smudge and the sweats. They both looked at her sleeping with strained smiles. Before going back to the police station with heavy steps.

Kenny took over the driving this time around having benefited from his little nap. PC Khan kept thinking about the woman, how tired she seemed, stressed out, she wanted to do right by someone she didn’t know about, shouldn’t know about.

“I have address of some woman shelters if you want.”

“What ?” Yasmin asked.

“For the surprise mechanic lady, when you go back home, you could give her address of shelter or association so she can find some housing.”

“Oh yeah. Thanks ! That’s a great idea !” pulling out her note pad, taking down the addresses.

“You are welcome my dear padawan.”

They returned to the station, putting back their equipment and the senior agent got called in the S.O. office to explain why the hell they were away the whole night. Yasmin wanted to explain but Kenny told her that he could handle it.

Yasmin Khan returned home exhausted but hoping to see her again. Reaching the parking lot she spend an hour in it, searching for the fated blue car. But the car was gone and she was gone to Yasmin dismay.

Yasmin was welcomed home by her family slowly waking up and the odor of fresh coffee, she decided to go directly to sleep, anxiety toward the woman she barely knew gnawing her insides. Her mom kissed her forehead seeing her worried but the magic of a mom kiss didn’t helped with the sleep. The beautiful woman was gone probably dealing with her issues on her own, definitely had it handled, like she couldn’t handle the car motor engine with her shaky hands or the lack of sleep or eating. What if she got into a car accident ? What if she got hurt and no would know her name. Would someone help her if needed ?

“Gosh darnit”

In any case sleep eluded her so she decided to spend the rest of the day, to her parents dismay, searching for a Pontiac blue car in the town of Sheffield. Hoping, dearly hoping to find her. At least see her safe.

The blue car was parked in front of the old building next to the hospital. The sight of it made the blonde woman shiver. But it wasn’t why she was there. She stared at the front door and saw a tall woman in a blue and gold dress getting out. She seemed well and healthy. Nadzieja followed with her eyes, the woman leaving and sighed in relief. One day she will be able to talk to her.

She searched everywhere, on her sister bike, wandering the streets like a madman. Asking florist and people at the counter of coffee shop, she even went by the aforementioned women shelter and yet nothing. No leads, no trace. The woman vanished. Hours went by and her body couldn’t handle much more exertion. She returned home with quiet sob of frustration.

It is only when she reached the parking lot that she saw, the beautiful blue car, standing exactly where she left it. She approached nearly throwing to the ground the bicycle seeing through the windshield, the older woman writing through what seemed to be a diary. She was so pretty.

She softly knocked on the window, blushing. Nadzieja looked at her with surprise and a smile.

“Hi !”

“Hi. I was wondering if you wanted a cuppa of tea ? I live nearby.”

She was dreading a negative answer, after all she was only a stranger who met a few hours ago and she must look like hell with the lack of sleep and her hair… Gosh she forgot to fix her hair !

“You are Yasmin ! My brilliant assistant ! I remember you.”

“oh !”

“You seems like a wonderful person and I would love to drink some tea at your place !”

Yasmin beamed, to hell the little information she was supposed to share with her, to hell duty or sleep. All she wanted now was to be with this beautiful shooting star.