#i’m in genuine tears i’m hanging by a thread

[maudie-duan]

Summary: You were an almost lover, now a hushed whisper in the dark when his Ex moves back to town. Nothing is worse than a love than a love triangle you weren't expecting--old flames, new love, and lingering feelings, but who's the real winner when everyone gets hurt?

Warnings: 18+All Angst, Mentions: Cheating. Sexual Situations.

Word Count: 4.3k

Harry's POV

I was the only one in love.

I know that now.

Not to say that Leah didn’t love me, but love should never be possessive.

And by the end, I was her possession. 

Leah had me under her thumb, suffocating me, slowly sucking the love from what we had. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t convince her I was in love. It was never enough. I thought saying it more would fix it, and maybe for a little while, it did, but then she got bored, and she made new friends. She started building this whole other life without me, and I respected that. I understood, but the more I understood, the more she pressed into me harder.

Fight after fight.

The two of us tearing into each other, every word a vicious act to match each other stride for stride, waiting for each hurtful blow to land. Did it hurt? Will it hurt later?

We didn’t care.

Was it love that excused every wrongful transgression, or was it fear? By the end, love for me became a desperate act, on my fucking knees begging as Leah slipped away and me pretending that with every apology, I forgave—forgiving until my heart bled with it, icy with the final blow.

The cheating.

Now, she’s back, my name falling off her lips as if there could be no one else like there hasn’t been anyone else, and that shadow of resentment that keeps following me around sweeps up to hang over me like a black mass I can’t rip my eyes from, yet I said I could forgive, but I can’t seem to forget—a year wasn’t enough, a year didn’t scratch the surface, mend the ache that still lingers with every fight, the pain looming at the surface.

And what is it that Leah wants because I still feel her trying to press me under her thumb? 

She wanted to come back; she wanted forgiveness I gave it. She wanted a second chance; we’re doing it. How many times am I going to let her build up the idea that we’re meant to be when, deep down, every word that she fills my head with is forced, made up to have me right where she wants me so she can leave me here, dangling by a thread, steal my focus so I can never stand my own ground, and for what? Just to say she had me?

And maybe this time, she’s the only one in love because I don’t think this is love anymore. I keep searching for the things that will lead me back to the love I felt before. Everything that should remind me of Leah reminds me of the one person who doesn’t deserve to be left in the dark, and that’s you.

That’s what I’m doing.

The other day, I asked you what you wanted. What I should have asked was where you saw this going. At that moment, I was terrified. The thought of losing you had never crossed my mind, but I saw that look on your face, and the sadness I never thought I was capable of bringing filled your eyes, gutting me before I could even open my mouth. 

A fool.

And now I wish there were things you said to me, so many things, like telling me I was a coward for thinking you didn’t deserve answers when you did. Tell me I was a fool for thinking I could have both, that I could fall back on you when I wanted to escape a past that was coming back to haunt me. I’m sorry that I left you in the dark. I’m sorry if you ever felt you weren’t worthy of an apology.

Maybe one day you’ll let me come back and say the things I should have said to you—It’s always sorry—it’s always that vision of you on your knees, your hands covering your face, that embezzles my thoughts. That stupid line, ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ I thought it was genuine like it could ease your suffering. My final line was the knife’s edge, ‘Hopefully, it won’t be weird seeing me around,’ like it wasn’t already weird.

I made it weird; I made it hurt.

I hope you know these are the things I think about before I fall asleep.

Did you cut the tether yet because sometimes I still feel you pulling?

Is it ruined before it even had a chance to begin? If I came groveling back even more broken, would you take me back because I miss you, I miss your bed, I miss the way you smelled on my skin—I miss the balance. When I saw you cry that day, I hated myself and who I was becoming to you. I’m sorry I didn’t handle it well—without you here, I don’t know what to do with myself; you were the one who filled my days. 

I hope you know this scares me to death. 

I was watching what you did the night you saw me with my arm around Leah’s waist; I looked you dead in the eyes and moved my hand away. I hoped it made you happy, gave you a glimpse of my headspace, that all my thoughts were of you, and that I cared what you thought. I know I’ve crossed so many lines already I wish you could tell me which path I needed to take, the one that leads back to you, to us, because I can’t remember the last time I felt that happy.

The love that Leah brought back was bare. I bet you already knew the game she was playing. You’re clever. Did you figure out the ending before we did? How did you handle it with such grace and give me space before I even knew I needed it? I keep thinking back to the last time I knocked on your door. I know the other times were drunk and pathetic, but that time, I came to you with intention. I wanted to feel something real, a connection I didn’t have to force, feel the connection I made with you because that was real. 

Easy.

We barely spoke “us” into existence, and then it was there. 

All you were asking for was clarity, and I lashed out, dredging up old patterns, the learned behavior that killed my spirit over time, leaving my past on your doorstep. I called you crazy. Well, I was crazy for even putting you through an ounce of this bullshit, me living my life all wrong, letting Leah pull me along, her stupid mind games roping you in the middle of it all. 

It got complicated.

Then I lied. 

You said it was yes or no, and I told you it wasn’t that simple. 

Would it change your mind if I said you were right?

I think I’m in love with you.

I’m in love with someone else, was all I could think, staring into Leah’s pleading eyes. I had so little to say to her, yet my mind was filled with all the words I knew she wanted me to say. Leah on her knees, her tears spilling over, and I felt nothing, and all I had was time now, so much time, and when she crawled into my lap, I let her, and when she said “One last time,” it’s the first time in a long time that I believed her. 

And then all I can think is, ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry that our ending had to be at the expense of first love’s antics, the childish growing pains that maybe we had to endure to move on. They say love hurts, but I never knew it could feel like this. If I tried to explain my heart, would you forgive me? Because I think I’ve figured out my downfall, my weakness. I have a tendency to live in my head, a daydreamer, spinning realities I think will come true—that was me with Leah in thinking that our love could last forever, and that was me with us thinking that we could stay in the grey, that it could save us from any kind of hurt. 

I see it now.

And now the space between us is growing further and further.

You saw me in the library the other day, and when we met eyes, you raised your brows, a slight glimmer of excitement, and I watched it slip away in seconds, your shoulders slumping. You moved your eyes to the empty seat next to you—a song and dance we would grow used to—then you stood to gather your things. It hurt, but I deserved it. I promise I wasn’t going to be heartless, sit next to you like nothing happened. I told Sam about Leah and how we called it quits for good. Did you hear? 

Your absence is growing louder than all the parties I never see you at. Is it because of me? If I asked you, would you tell me? I would stay home. You can have all our old marching grounds, all the places I know you enjoy more, the friends I know that like you more, the friends that probably only tolerated me because of you. You made me better; you gave me depth in a world I was falling flat in. I said I miss your bed, I miss the way you smelled on my skin, but what I miss most is our friendship, the ebb, and flow of your companionship; while yes, the other stuff was amazing, I could do without it if it meant I could keep my friend.

We were friends, right?

Somehow in the easy give and take, you became my best friend.

Will I see you again? I can be patient, but do you think you’ll give me a chance? I promise I could be so good to you. Are you giving me space? Or is it truly ruined? Even if you told me there was no chance, the words would hold a cruel kindness I’m willing to endure, and the painstaking fact of it all is this is probably how you’ve felt for months now. It’s been two months since Leah; it probably feels like a lifetime to you.

And just when I thought all hope was lost, you walked through Sam’s door. I thought my heart would stop, your presence taking me completely. You gave me a taste of my own medicine, barely glancing my way all night, keeping yourself preoccupied. I spent that night keeping tabs on you, spotting you anytime you moved. Could you feel it? Could you feel me? Because I swear, you were the only one in that room for me. Before you left, you came and stood by the beer pong table, watching the game Sam and I were wrapped up in. I looked at you just as I tossed the ball. My gaze trained on you, and you held it, and just as cheers erupted, me hitting my mark and making a cup, a smile ghosted over your lips, and you turned away, heading for the door. 

I could feel the tether still there, and you pulled.

The days I miss you most are the days my head is filled with the most questions, the times when no one gets my jokes when I’m an asshole, and my bold sense of humor is too much for the ears they land on. Mostly girls, the ones trying to win my attention; they’re not even a second thought, I promise. Are you bored? Are there things you miss about me?

If we ever talk about anything, can we talk about that day everyone met up for pizza, and I didn’t know that you would be there? My fucking professor made me late, and I rushed to get there in time, and the first thing I saw was you and the empty chair next to you. I hope you know that I wouldn’t have been offended if you wanted to trade seats when Sam offered. Tell me I’m foolish to believe you wanted me there, right next to you—lie to me—but please don’t ever tell me it was because you didn’t want to cause a scene.

Because they all know. Everyone knows I fumbled it with you, but I would rather hear it from your mouth. 

God, I was lucky. So lucky to have you. 

You were the only girl that wasn’t throwing yourself at me. You were a breath of fresh air. What if I told you I liked you all along, that once I was free, my eyes were on you, that when Leah left that first time, I noticed you, but when did you notice me? Was it the night we had to carry Alex to the car? I think about that night often. You were such a trooper for that. I know you guys were hooking up or something, but you showed true compassion that night. I think any other girl would have left that fucker, yet you continued on. 

Was it for me? 

Or is it another foolish thought?

A saint you were, lugging around that asshole. I told you later that I barely looked when your boobs were bouncing in that tank top, nearly spilling out when you bent to lift his drunk body. I lied, I was fucking obsessed with you, thinking I couldn’t believe Alex would fuck it up, and now how dumb am I? I’m still obsessed with you, but I’ve been taking time to actually be single, to not fall into that hopeless behavior as before. Another bed isn’t going to answer these questions, all the things I wish you said to me. I can be single for as long as I need. 

I’ll wait.

I’ll wait because what other choice do I have? I keep seeing you around, but you keep a safe distance. Am I really unapproachable? Do you not have questions? Do you feel like our connection was fleeting? Sam told me that you asked about me and asked how I was doing after everything. I wish it was a question you never had to ask. Are you coming around to the idea of me? Or was it out of pity?

The other day, when finals finally hit, the only place I could go was the dreaded library. Who knew it would become a graveyard for all my misgivings? The place was so full, and I was desperate for a seat. The only spot was at the end of your table. I thought, what are the fucking odds? And I stood there from afar, watching you, your nose pointed down, vigorously writing something down. I didn’t do it on purpose, interrupt you, but please know it was my only choice, and when I started to approach you, it was like you knew; your head whipped in my direction, then at your table, the open spot at the end. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings, the realization of our predicament dawning on you just as our eyes met, and I asked you if I could sit, promising I wouldn’t bother you. I thought you’d gather your stuff, leave me feeling hopeless and dumb for even approaching you, but you simply said, “Sure,” nodding your head toward the empty seat, and I forced my legs in motion, my whole body trembling, my heart racing at the thought of sharing even a fraction of your space, breathing the same air you were breathing, and like an idiot I clumsily set my things up as hateful glares from students around us pleaded with me to be silent. 

A breathy little laugh rose up your chest, and you sealed your lips shut, smoothing them together to hide your ongoing smile. I felt my body relax then, your eyes catching mine. When they moved back to your paper, I watched you shift in your seat, your spine straightening. You turned the page in your book, continuing as if nothing had just happened, but I hope you know I held onto that moment for days.

And all the while, you kept giving me these tiny little moments to keep, to savor, when the thought of not having you haunted me. 

At some point, there was a shift, a point that led to this moment where you’re standing at the other end of the beer pong table. Your smile beaming right through me, at the little moments of kindness giving way to normalcy that seems to fit because this is how it happened before, right? All the little moments. Except this time you started it, because when did it start? 

Every thought leads back to the library, a stepping stone to tolerance. 

Finals sucked us all in and spit us out, all of us crawling back to the social scene in small strides. I saw you standing in Sam’s kitchen one night, you know, the very place I kissed you that first time, taking us both by surprise. I couldn’t remember the last time I was that nervous to kiss someone new. You were standing in that same spot, the very spot where you wrapped your arms around my neck and pressed into the kiss. Did you remember? When you were standing there talking to your friends, did it cross your mind? And when Sam roped me into the conversation, you didn’t even flinch. 

Did you want me there?

Another time, I saw you standing in line for the bathroom at a party I wasn’t expecting you to be at. I didn’t even have to use the bathroom. I just wanted to see if you would figure out a way to excuse yourself. We locked eyes as soon as I filled in the space behind you, and I laughed to myself, thinking maybe this would be us, me always trying to find the empty spaces in your life to fit myself into. You muttered, “Hey,” Then turned back to the person you were talking to in line. She was the next to go in, so I knew I would have you alone in no time.

A hopeless fool, a desperate fool.

The girl was so drunk I don’t know how you kept your cool, carrying on a half-hearted conversation on your end because I could tell you we’re vibing, but she wouldn’t have known the difference, she could have talked to a wall I’m sure. The girl spotted me behind you like I hadn’t been standing there long enough to hear her talking about a guy she was trying to hook up with; then she said:

“Oh my god…speaking—of hot guys to hook up with—” her words loud, and you both turned to look at me then, my face burning, thinking if this girl even knew, and I waited for your reaction, but your eyes just drifted down my shirt, the one you said was your favorite. Then the door clicked open, stealing everyone’s attention, and you turned the girl in the direction of the door. She slurred the line “Good luck, girl” over her shoulder, and you laughed. 

I thought you would look back at me after she went in, but you didn’t. I could see the faint glow of your phone screen, and you stood there busying yourself. That was the first time we had been that close, me close enough to feel the warmth emanating from your body. I had to force myself to breathe, my face sometimes turning toward you to take in that familiar smell, and when you shoved your phone into your back pocket, you crossed your arms and pressed your shoulder into the wall. Could you feel it? 

The tether buzzing with the past? 

You must have felt it because your face shifted, your eyes meeting mine, you gazing over your shoulder at me, your face void of any expression, a curious daze in your eyes. I didn’t know what to say, my words clogging the back of my throat. Then drunk girl spilled out of the bathroom, robbing your attention, and just like that, we were strangers again, you moving to help the stumbling girl, your hands suddenly full as she laughed into your neck, cooing at you in the way drunk girls seem to take on new best friends, and you were hers.

“I’m going to help her.” You said, directing your words at me, and I pushed myself off the wall, ready to help.

“Do you need a hand?” I asked, ready to lend a helping hand as you slung her arm around your shoulder. 

You laughed at this, “No—No—I think this is how it happened the first time…” Then you turned away with a smile on your face, and I stood there trying to register your words. It took someone nudging my shoulder to keep the line moving, and when I closed myself into the bathroom, I had to laugh, thinking back to that night with Alex. It was like you were answering one of the many tormenting questions, and now obsession wouldn’t even touch the surface of how I felt. 

That was the door opening, just a crack, you leaving a crumb for me to pick up, and I turned that crumb into a fucking feast.

So now, everything that’s happened in the empty spaces we’ve filled with tiny glances, a faint smile, a lingering stare from across the room. A “Hi” here and a “Bye” there equated to this very moment, and when you land the winning shot, sinking your ping pong ball into the final cup. Sam pipes up, apologizing for making the game more competitive than needed, insisting everyone shake hands and call some kind of truce.

You’re all smiles, darting over to Sam as I reach forward and shake your friend’s hand, who gives me one of those death glares, one of the hundreds she’s given me since things ended, but I can say they have lessened, so maybe that’s progress. She squeezes my hand hard, and I take the hint; then she releases my hand, and we both turn to watch you and Sam caught up in one of the many silly moments you guys tend to get lost in. I was on the fence about whether or not I should stand there waiting because the moment seemed to be slipping by. I was on the verge of feeling stupid, but I really wanted this moment with you. My only saving grace was that your friend was still there, which meant I still had a chance.

A hopeless fool.

When your eyes caught mine from over Sam’s shoulder, you laughed, your eyes lighting up, a bit tipsy, your magnetic energy filling the room, “Oh no! We’re not good sports if we don’t shake everyone’s hand, Sam!” You yell, eyes on me the whole time, then they move to your friend, and you reach out, my heart racing when Sam playfully shakes mine, pushing past me when someone calls their name. 

And then it was just us.

I caught your friend whispering something in your ear right before she slipped away. You had one of those cunning smiles as you rolled your eyes, and then you looked at me. I could only guess what she was saying. I’m sure it didn’t take a rocket scientist. Your smile dropped slightly, and you took a step toward me, but all I could do was smile as my heart leaped out of my chest, all the noise around me dull because, at that moment, you were the only one in that room, the only one that mattered, you were the world itself, and call me dramatic, but the brain has a funny way of playing out moments in our heads, and I had been waiting for this one for a long time. 

“Good game—” You said, holding out your hand to fist pump me, and I had to laugh, me staring down at your hand, thinking, of course, it wouldn’t be that simple. 

I clicked my tongue, “I don’t get a proper handshake, huh?” and this makes you laugh, your hand stationary, and I wrapped my hand around your fist, pulling you toward me as I leaned into your ear and said:

“This isn’t rock, paper, scissors…” And you liked this because you laughed then, eyes level with mine. Your free hand came up to my chin and cupped it, playfully jostling it back and forth.

“It is if I say it is…Mr.” 

The words sent a jolt down my spine, a mix of fear and excitement. You let my chin drop, my mouth splaying open, leaving me dumbfounded. But I collected myself quickly, righting myself, and nodded my head. “I hear you loud and clear—trust me—” I tell you, all smiles gone, but the corner of your mouth is still turned up, so I know the message isn’t a threat.

The next morning, I woke up to a missed call from you and one new voicemail: 

“Hello…”

…

“Hello? Harry…?”

…

“Oh, fuck—it’s leaving a message—shit…”

…

“Um—hi. Fuck. I didn’t want to leave a message, but fuck um…I wanted to talk to you—obviously—I hate leaving messages, and I think I’m drunk…so I’m just going to fucking say it, okay—I miss you, like a lot, and you’re so fucking annoying—there I said it—and I can’t stand that you’re like a good guy—I think—I don’t—yeah, I think you must be a good guy…you haven’t fucked someone else since Leah. I haven’t heard anything. I don’t know why that matters. Damn. Can I delete this? Fuck. Hang up…I mean, I’m hanging up.”

…

“Bye. I’m hanging up. Bye—shit.”

A/N: Yes, I left you on a cliffhanger...but good news! There will be a Part 4! Sorry! don't have me!!

Taglist: Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged for this series. @sassamanda77 @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @angeldavis777 @matildasatellite @cendrineee @prettygurl-2009 @harry2121 @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @lizsogolden

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[petit-etoile]

Congrats on the 200 Followers man! Here's my drabble for ya, go nuts on what you wanna write from this; “Kiss me and/or shut up.”

your  heart understood  mine

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount:  919 content warnings: ne.il new.bon said something about little astarions once & now i have Thoughts other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils, be added to the taglist here

summary: 'When am I happiest?' / 'When I'm looking at you.'

‘So,’ Astarion says casually, staring at his nails. ‘What do you think the answers truly are?’

‘The answers to what?’ you ask.

‘Don’t play coy,’ he says. ‘The little…love test. I was rather pleased you didn’t expose me in front of a stranger, but now I’m curious.’

You remember Zethino now. You take a moment to glance at him, though your hands are still busy sewing away at a tear in your armor. Astarion is watching you while wearing a guarded half-smile, neither interested in his nails nor in your messy stitches. Your cheeks heat up and you look back down at your uneven handiwork. Your throat tightens a little.

When you had asked him if he had wanted to participate with you, you thought Astarion would reject it. It seemed silly, so out of element for the both of you that the thought of him genuinely agreeing never crossed your mind. Yet now he questions you about it, questions you about your answers, and you feel more nervous now than you had when Zethino called you stira. Astarion takes your armor from you and begins patching it himself, fed up with your clumsy stitches.

‘The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous,’ Astarion recites sarcastically. ‘When is he happiest, my love?’

‘I don’t think you’ve ever been happy,’ you say quietly.

He hums. ‘Well, that’s mostly the correct answer,’ he says. ‘But you’re missing something. I know you can guess it if you really put your mind to it.’

‘You’re happiest with me,’ you say bravely.

You look him deep in his eyes, holding your breath. He laughs and nods, chuckling to himself while he tries to salvage a piece of leather. You think he might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell with how pale he is.

‘Many things delight the heart,’ Astarion continues, mimicking her monotonous timbre. ‘Only one makes it sing! Tell me, my sweet, what does he desire more than anything.’

Revenge. You had told the dryad he wanted revenge, but didn’t go into detail, not in front of someone unfamiliar. You watch as he untangles the thread, his hair soft and elegant, his hands assured and practiced. There lives a colony of butterflies in your chest. Your heart is beating so loud you’re certain he can hear it.

‘A life with me,’ you say.

‘You,’ he agrees.

‘A gaggle of little Astarions trailing around,’ you add.

Astarion looks up sharply, his mouth hanging open slightly. You press your lips together immediately and try to think of an apology but there’s something beneath his careful façade. You were right. You realize it now. You press a hand to your chest as if to stop your heart from pounding. Astarion wants a family, and he wants you, and even beneath that desire for revenge and for strength, once he succeeds then all he wants is you. He looks back down at your clothes in his lap and laughs shyly. You think you might faint.

‘The last, um, question,’ you stutter. You realize your palms are sweaty and blush.

‘Fear sits in the soul of all,’ Astarion says finally, voice soft. ‘To tame it, we must name it. What is his deepest fear?’

This time, you feel as though the answer isn’t so easy. Beneath the fear of Cazador and the fear of the mindflayers, there is something else brewing. You’re afraid to even mention it, but he’s curious and genuine. You slide closer to him and pull part of your armor into your lap so that you share the burden. He presses his nose to your temple and you distract yourself by touching the part of your armor he’s managed to save from your haphazard repairing.

‘You’re afraid of never breaking the cycle,’ you say carefully. You bite your bottom lip. ‘You’re worried that after all this rage, there’s no relief.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion says.

There is little to no heat in it. You shake your head.

‘You’re afraid the you before Cazador is no longer there,’ you say. ‘And you’re afraid that because I am human, that there’s a ghost of you that comes after me.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion insists.

‘Kiss me,’ you whisper. You turn to meet his lips.

Astarion presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You cherish it no matter how fleeting the kiss is. The silence, the quiet sorrow. It’s almost worth it for how he gently presses kisses against your temple and into your hair. He will never confess that what you said is true, and you’re almost thankful.

‘My turn,’ you say, clearing your throat. ‘When am I happiest?’

‘When I’m looking at you,’ Astarion says without hesitation.

‘O  — Oh.’

‘You desire a lifetime with me,’ he says with a practiced blasé shrug. ‘And little Astarions of course.’

You flush. ‘Shut up.’

‘And,’ he adds, ‘you’re deathly afraid of spiders.’

He laughs and kisses you again, and you wish you could bottle up the sound in a music box to play it back when you’re feeling lonely. You know what Zethino meant now when she said your bond beat with pleasure. You blossom beneath his careful musings.

‘See? We’re close as can be,’ Astarion murmurs. He rests his chin on your shoulder and brushes his thumb against your thigh. ‘But darling, if we’re going to have a lifetime together, we really must work on your stitching.’

‘Only if you’ll teach me,’ you say.

‘Oh, I’ll be the best teacher you’ve ever had,’ Astarion agrees.

[raitonsfw]

𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 | 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚘𝚔𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚢𝚞𝚞

synopsis: You thanked the deities above you that you had noticed the rope that hung from Tomioka’s sleeves, eyeing you with compulsion. You knew it was only for missions, like if he had to tie someone up if they weren’t cooperating, but your mind went elsewhere and who could blame you? That’s why he’s laid out like this now, the shibari technique threaded down his chest, against his thighs... he was the perfect art form waiting to be painted with watercolors.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, hashira!reader, shibari (or bondage), grinding (against one of the rope knots), teasing, dirty talk, slight dom!reader, slight sub!giyuu, begging, rope markings, gagging with rope, a quick mention about edging, p in v intercourse, riding, creampie, giyuu and reader are a couple, naive giyuu who just doesnt know how to socialize, shinobu outs the reader’s crush, alludes to giyuu being able to tear rope likes its fucking paper, (no idea how to put this as a warning but cbt?? reader presses her knee to giyuu’s cock a little too hard, but he’s a slut for it), pet names (princess, baby), use of honorifics in the beginning part.

a/n: so you guys can thank the inosuke scene and a random person on reddit for this. Like you know what, why does giyuu carry rope on him, idk but here’s food for thought. wc: 1.3k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

It wrapped around him with intricate lines and tight knots adorning the middle of his chest. You were proud of your art, of your boy, laying against the sheets with nothing but the best shibari work entwined against him. You made sure you secured the knots, even double checking them, there was no way he would be able to get out of the soft embrace of the ropes. 

Days prior, you found out he carried rope with him on his missions and you were more than intrigued, for all the wrong (right) reasons of course. You knew he was quiet and well kept, nothing out of the ordinary ever really piqued your interest to bother him on dangerous missions until you saw the rope hanging from one of his haori sleeves. You swore at first you saw a thread loose, but upon further inspection you realized. 

“Tomioka-kun, you carry rope on you?” You asked, an innocence veiling your voice. 

“And you don’t?” He didn’t snap at you, it was more of a question answering yours as he kept his hand still on the hilt of his katana.

You stepped over a rock, humming to yourself whilst following him down the forest path. “I don’t believe I would ever have to tie someone up.” 

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered as he stuffed the rope back into his haori sleeve, the rest of it flowing with him as he sensed danger at the edge of the trees. “Stay close to me, princess.” 

You genuinely loved Tomioka, though you knew he didn’t pick up on it during the first few months he knew you. He seemed oblivious to a lot of social norms and tended to isolate him away from the Hashira group when everyone trained together. But you tried to stay as close as possible, offering him traditional gifts and food every chance you got. He took it with an aloof thanks, still so seemingly confused about why you cared so much about him. 

Until Kocho told him flat out at one of the meetings in front of everyone. You covered your face within your haori as the other Hashira muttered little sayings amongst each other. And there was Tomioka, blushing like an idiot and trying to apologize for being so naive. He stumbled over every word and chased after you as you ran towards the bridge that cascaded the water. 

“Y/N-san!” He caught up to you, his breath wavering as he slipped his fingers around your wrist. “I apologize for Kocho, she’s quite crude, isn’t she?” 

“I’m used to it.” You wiped the tears from your eyes as you looked over to him and you swore you saw his heart break in two. 

“So am I.” 

And here you were a few months later, learning shibari techniques as Giyuu laid out his entire body to you. He was naked from the waist up, the rope denting his skin and his boxers bunched against them except for the sleek waistband that crowded against his waist.

“I can tear these easily, baby.” Giyuu said, looking at you with a straight face. You frowned at your partner, smacking him on his bare thigh and he jerked it away with a silent chuckle. His hair came to lay against his back, out of the ponytail he normally wore and you tangled your fingers in it for a moment, reveling in the way he gasped as you suddenly pulled it.

“Well, don’t. I tried really hard to make you look pretty underneath me.” You pouted, leaning over his face. He yearned for your kiss, but he knew he wasn’t going to get your soft lips on his anytime soon. Not when your hands held extra rope that was pushed into the crook of his mouth, his teeth baring down onto it. He groaned around it and you tutted at him sharply.

“Stay still or I won’t ride you.” You said plainly, kissing at the flesh of his thigh as you looped a part of the rope around it. Your fingers then ghosted over the swell of his cock and he breathed out a light sigh, relief about flooding through him; but they moved past to pull another knot against his thigh. 

“Please, it’s enough...” He said slowly, trying to enunciate properly but failing as a tiny groan escaped him from you pinching his inner thigh. “I want you on top of me.” 

“What’d you say, couldn’t hear you properly?” You finished the knot and sat against it, grinding onto the knot on his thigh with a purposeful smirk. You let out a moan as the knot knocked directly against your clit as you rolled your hips onto it. “C’mon baby, use your words.”

Giyuu watched you with wide eyes and he threw his head back against the pillows as your knee pushed up against his cock, pleasure shooting up his spine. He panted out around the rope as you continued, pressing your shin into him harshly. His eyes squeezed shut and he trembled, wishing to so desperately touch you and get you to sit on him already but his hands had been bound by his back. 

“Oh you’re really enjoying yourself, aren't you?” You cooed, trailing your finger down the knots on his chest; some had been adorned within a heart while others were a typical knot. You smiled at the redness that laid beneath it, digging into his skin and you knew they’d leave marks only you could see afterwards. He practically writhed against you know, so fucking desperate, you knew once you sank down on his cock he wasn’t going to last very long. You’ve been edging him for hours prior whilst you tied the knots after all. 

You pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring out onto the flat of his tummy and you noticed how much precum had leaked out of him during your teasing and rope knots. You kinda felt bad for him and you crawled over him, pulling your lace aside to take him into your entrance. “Fuck, I’m sorry Giyuu.” 

“Please, please, fuck me already.” He pleaded around the rope, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and you sank down in earnest. A long moan was drawn out from him and he thrusted up into your tight heat, nearly knocking you off of him. You steadied yourself on his chest, looking at him as he twitched inside you. His blue eyes were half-lidded, lust clouding them over and you rolled against him slowly so as to not overwhelm him too much. 

He bucked up in time with your hips and you clenched around him each time, hurtling towards your own orgasm as you picked up the pace. Whimpers and pleads slurred from his mouth the best he could and you were so grateful that the boy underneath you had been kind to your advances, once Kocho told him. 

You were absolutely in love with him. 

You felt his hips falter underneath you and you watched as Giyuu arched into his orgasm with a loud whine, his mouth open and the rope falling from it. You followed right after, bouncing on his cock at a fast pace as he whimpered at the oversensitivity. A few moments later, you moved off of him and his cum dripped out of you, down your leg and you cursed quietly. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He apologized, his hair disheveled and there was a shine to his skin, as if he had been sweating. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay.” You smiled at him, moving to start untying the ropes that littered his body. “I think we’re done for tonight, okay?”

You kissed him gently and Giyuu nodded into it, love intertwining your tongue with his. Yeah, thank God for Kocho Shinobu. And thank God for the rope that fell from his haori, threaded with dirty thoughts.

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[urfavoritegirlkisser]

ooh for hazel maybe a fic where hazel is fully oblivious to the fact that reader likes her and misses their very obvious flirting until someone makes a joke about the two of them

idk i feel like that’s something she would do lmao

Oh for sure, she is definitely very oblivious when it comes to someone flirting with her

Tags: Fem!Reader, Hazel is so oblivious, swearing, a smidge of angst and insecure!reader, use of y/n, slightly suggestive at the end but it's no big deal honestly, lightly proof read, girls kissing (giggling and kicking my feet)

"Friends Don't Look At Friends That Way" - Hazel Callahan x Reader

“Maybe we could go hang out at your place? You could help me study for Mr.G’s final” You say, lightly grazing your fingertips on Hazel’s arm while batting your eyelashes up at her.

“Didn’t he literally give us the test answers as a study guide?” Hazel says, oblivious to your flirtation as always.

This was the billionth time it feels like that Hazel has shut you down, and honestly, you’re sick of it.

You decide to try a different tactic, gently grabbing her hand and admiring her rings, “I just love your rings” you rub your thumb across them and let your other hand rest on her thigh.

“Thanks! Most of them were gifts from friends, and this one was from a cool thrift shop downtown” Hazel rambles on while you sigh as she continues to ignore your obvious attempts at flirting with her.

You genuinely thought all hope was lost��until you heard PJ shout from across the gym.

“Jesus! Get a room you two, have some decency for the rest of us and go fuck in the janitor’s closet!” the girl shouts and your face heats up as a deep blush settles over your cheeks

Hazel scoffs, “What? We’re just friends PJ, don’t be a loser” she says while laughing nervously.

It took all of your willpower not to crumble right then and there.

You’ve had enough of this, you weren’t going to put in all this effort for someone who just sees you as a friend. Sniffling as tears start to form in your eyes from embarrassment, you quickly excuse yourself and practically run out of the gymnasium.

Your feet carry you to an abandoned classroom, where you let yourself finally let out the sobs you were holding in. Of course Hazel didn’t feel the same, why would she? She was amazing in every way and you were just some loser.

You’re so consumed in your thoughts that you don’t hear the door crack open and Hazel slowly walk inside.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” she says in a near whisper, but it still makes you jump and quickly look up at Hazel while wiping your tears.

“Hazel, what are you doing here? The club meeting is about to start, you know how PJ is with people being late” you try to speak in a confident voice, but it comes out shaky and thick from the lump of emotions in your throat and you look away from her so she can’t see your tears.

Hazel shakes her head and sits down beside you, “You’re more important than a stupid meeting” she says softly, “Josie told me about your feelings for me”

You groan at her words and put your head on your knees, looking back at her with a sniffle, “I’m so sorry Hazel, I get it if you don’t feel the same way and I won’t blame you-” your words are cut off by Hazel grabbing your face and hurriedly pressing her lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

You shriek in surprise at first, but quickly kiss back, shuddering as you feel her tongue enter your mouth.

Hazel pulls you onto her lap, your fingers threading into her soft hair as her hands rest on your hips. You both pull away after a moment, pupils blown, breaths heavy as the both of you just stare at each other for a moment.

Hazel is the first to speak up, “I’ve actually wanted to do that since the first time I saw you” she says breathlessly while moving a hand up to cradle your jaw and gently stroke your face with her thumb, “You are so beautiful y/n, I would be lucky to be able to call you mine” she says with a smile that makes your heart melt

“And I’m sorry for being such an idiot” she quickly adds which makes you laugh

You kiss her softly, pulling away just enough so your foreheads touch and you can just live in this tiny moment the both of you have created.

“As long as I can call you my idiot, then that’s all that matters” you say before the both of you dissolve into giggles.

an - meant to post more today, but got hit with a wicked migraine, so I hoped you enjoyed. Go drink water you girl kissers.

[littlemsshoney]

Hannibal obsessed with one of his patients

Hannibal Lecter × patient!reader

Warnings: unhealthy dynamics, obssesive relationship, slight stalking, Hannibal being emotionally manipulative, mental health issues (he caused)

At first you were just another patient, a potential pawn or a future extravagant dinner he would enjoy some Friday night. Another lost and troubled soul that was unfortunate enough to find him.

There was something about you that caught his eye. The way you talked, the way you carried yourself.

However his interest grew like a forest fire, a burning insatiable hunger consumed him more and more with each one of your sessions.

He started taking notes of every little detail of your life and with some research of his own he soon knew every aspect of your life. Where you live, where you work, who your friends are, which cafe you spend your Saturday morning everything in.

He knew that he should feel bad for crossing such a line between a therapist and a patient but he didn’t really. After all, it wasn't that hard. With your social media your life was practically an open book for everyone to read and enjoy and if he didn’t then he was sure someone else did.

Only the thought made him angry. It wasn’t about your safety but more about his hurt ego. He had his eye on you, no one else should change that and he should make it known.

Of course he had always been a fan of traditional courting so don’t be confused when you start bumping into him in the most random places at some point with the excuse of cheering you up even being invited to one of his glamorous dinner parties. All of those situations you tried to avoid and refuse gracefully, not because of being aware of his true intentions but rather because you knew there was a thin line you shouldn’t cross.

So you didn't leave him any other way. He truly wanted to be gentle and kind with you and treat you like the precious, vulnerable creature you were in his mind but you just won’t have it the easy way, will you?

The thought of being patient- one of the tarits he awlways took pride on- now felt like a real torture. He wanted to consume you whole. There was something about you that reflected some part of him, an unknown familiarity of your pain. He wanted to break you down, then pick up your parts and build you up. Then do it all over again.

Your sessions were heavy at least. Raw honesty from your part and emotional manipulation from his all to serve the creation of an intense bond, a codependent relationship.

Your wellbeing and mental health had turned into a chess game and the game was anything but fair. In less than two months your whole well being was hanging from a thread and only he could help you or tear you apart.

One can only imagine the sadistic pleasure he took from your vulnerability and pain. Comfortably he sat at his armchair watching as you fell apart in front of him each week feeling worse and worse. All he had to do was just watch and enjoy, proud of his creation.

In his free time he recalled how beautifully you cried, so broken and desperate for him to fix you but all he wanted was lick your tears and take you in. He imagined you being under him, crying - from pleasure - his name rolling off your tongue over and over again.

Soon he had you feeling as if the whole world had turned against you. You couldn’t even trust your own judgement, you had cut ties with most of your friends -Dr Lecter advised you that none of them were genuine-you had become more and more isolated, you felt like you’re turning paranoid.

And then the final act of his play

“I’m really sorry I didn’t know where else to go” and like clockwork you deliberately walked onto his trap, basically sealing your own fate. All he had to do now is hold his door wide open for you to come in.

And then checkmate. That eventful evening standing on the doorstep of the only person you thought truly cared about you. He let you in and like a wounded bird he took you into his arms with such generosity and kindness in contrast to everyone else in your life. The irony.

“It will all be alright”

You wrap your arms around him, holding onto him for dear life, holding onto the only person that seems to understand you and actually wants to help you. As you cry on his shoulder he rests his chin on your head and gently caresses your hair.

Despite your persistence to resist him you are finally giving in. He kisses the crown of your head and though you know it is wrong you let him. You would let him do anything to keep him and he knows it.

Frozen in place you close your eyes as he kisses your forehead, then your eyes and cheek. You know what comes next yet you do not pull away, you don't resist what’s inevitable. A second passes and he doesn’t move, you open your eyes to see him staring at your lips. Now you know you want it, you feel his hunger as your own and you’re starving for it.

Grabbing him by his expensive tie you kiss him, not gently as he did but with desperation and need to be seen and understood.

Pleased he lets you have control just this once for the rest of your time together. He knew you would soon come to realise it’s only him you ever needed.

[royal-chandler]

inspired by TZP's appearance at the premiere of Queer 💫

grammar and i really couldn't mesh well today, i'm sorry.

--

The car slows down and the bounce of Alex’s knee speeds up in the backseat. It’s stilled when Henry’s hand folds over it, easily stealing Alex’s attention from the reel of landmarks that lead to the DGA Theater Complex. Henry’s smile is a private and small curve that crowds out everything else. 

Henry comments, “You look like you’re about to leap out of your skin, darling. We can still wait, if you’d like. There’s no pressure.”

Drifting a hand down, Alex threads his fingers through Henry’s and admires the warm and perfect fit of them. “I’m not having a record-scratch moment. And we’re not postponing or calling this off. Or, fuck even worse, appearing as friends to have the internet continually mislabel us as a bromance. It’s not nerves or cold feet, it’s anticipation.”

“An incredibly vibrant anticipation.”

“And your subdued energy, I should take that as?”

“Barely restrained excitement.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Of course,” Henry says with a mock-serious nod that he might as well have patented, "I'm going to be sharing the same space as Luca Guadagnino. As a massive fan, that thrills me to no end.”

Alex laughs out of surprise and plays along, leaning in. “Wow, he rates higher than Daniel Craig?”

“Alex, honestly. You think that I haven’t already met the most recent iteration of James Bond? Me, a son of Arthur Fox? We’re well acquainted, love. He’s been at my dinner table quite often,” Henry divulges.

“Huh.” Alex's curiosity is genuine now. Clearing his throat in an attempt to sidestep an embarrassing needy tone, his question still comes out clumsy, words tripping over gravel, “No, uh, farther than the dining room? Uh, just dinner.”

“He’s rather happy with his wife and I’ve never been...courted as a supernumerary,” Henry says thoughtfully. And then with his free hand, he’s carding Alex’s hair, pulling on an end in a way that makes Alex’s toes curl in his shoes. Showing off his cheekbones, Henry grins wide when Alex hisses between his teeth. He's generous with his touch, his fingers slipping down to Alex’s mouth and skipping over its opened seam, pausing at the pout of his bottom lip. Henry’s voice drops in volume as he adds with a sweet kiss, “Plus, he’s not my type whatsoever. Far removed from it and no one fills out a tux better than you. Even James Bond. So, there’s zero reason to be jealous.”

“What? Who’s jealous? I am not jealous.”

“I’d hope not. Soon enough, the whole world will know that I’m yours.”

To the left of his sternum, Alex's heart gallops. The same wild pick-up from weeks before when he’d first held the invite to the premiere, the title of the film brash and defiant across the top. Unapologetically Queer. Over the sloping script encouraging a plus-one, Alex had rubbed his thumb back and forth, like he could wear a patch into the parchment. He hadn’t been able to let it go until he had Henry on the phone, tears swelling and unsteady as the black and white of the invite blurred and the choice became clear.  

“And that Henry fucking Fox calls me his boyfriend. Kind of insane,” Alex remarks, remembering the Melbourne Climate Conference and literally running into the Prince of England. Getting to his feet with a two-inch advantage and still feeling like he didn’t measure up and never would, gutted by Henry’s refusal to take his hand. Later, in a hospital closet, he’d find out that Henry had been hollow that day as well, pitted by fresh grief.

“Good insane?” Henry asks.

“Always. I like the kind of crazy you drive me to,” Alex admits and sees happiness light in Henry’s forest eyes. He sees forever. Alex wants it so badly, he has to dip his gaze lower before he loses himself there completely. He loiters at the necklace that hangs from Henry’s neck, its silver pendant resting against the notch of his collarbone like an ornament. A gift from Alex that the public has been speculating the origins of since it first appeared on a beach trip Henry had taken with Bea and Pez—noteworthy for the simple fact that the Prince never wore jewelry aside from his signet ring. “I mean, let’s get started on this fucking outfit, baby.”

“Alex, enough.”

“You’re in a cardigan that’s barely holding on! What am I supposed to do with that? I’m merely a man.”

Paired with dark grey pants, the cardigan is powder blue and delicately knitted with a lace pattern, see-through over a black tank and even softer than it looks. It’s a formal contrast to Alex’s dark denim jeans and wool workwear jacket but together, the intent behind the ensembles will be undeniable—that, like any other couple, they’re meant to match.

Fondly, Alex shakes his head. “When the big headline reads ‘Prince Henry, finally saved from drowning as First Son ACD yanks him out of oversized double-breasted suits’, I’ll get my gratification. You’ll see.”

“They are not oversized,” Henry argues, a blush across his face.

Alex tells him, “If you didn’t bare your chest every once in a while, your shoulders would be your best kept secret. Forget about me.”

“Not ever,” Henry answers.

As if cued, the car rolls to a stop and a silhouette appears outside the window. They’ve got thirty seconds and, in a deliberate callback to the moment he realized saying anything less than love to Henry felt like lying and asked him out on this date, Alex wonders, “Are you ready?”

“So fucking impatient,” Henry says with a laugh and Alex is head over heels for all of him.

When the door is opened, Alex doesn’t let go of Henry’s hand. He carefully waits for Henry to climb out behind him and then places his proud smile to the skin of Henry’s cheek—what he had wanted and wished to do at the charity polo match in London and every other public appearance that followed after.

Ahead of them is a long, loud line of press and chaotic bursts of blinding lights. A shit ton of questions and a sprawling red carpet that they won’t be able to walk back.

They move forward with purpose, together every step of the way.

--

i'd like to kindly thank @caressthosecheekbones for telling me that Henry should wear Nick's iconic cardigan 💛

and @mylucayathoughts , here you go! 🤍

[batsovergotham]

Wait omggggg for The Night Remains, is there gonna be some sort of love triangle/ past relationship w/ dick??? Whether there is or not I’m soooo excited for this new fic. Batman comics are literally my ONE THING so this is kinda a dream come true lmao. It’ll be fun to see how Mark chooses to navigate through Gotham and work with The Bats, learning that, though they may not be powered, they are NOT to be underestimated

WAIT STOP SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE EXCITED you don’t even KNOW how unwell i am over The Night Remains rn it’s literally renting out my entire brain and it’s NOT leaving any time soon

OK OK LISTEN I NEED TO YAP REAL FAST

• FIRST OF ALL no love triangle shit with dick i SWEAR

dick is literally just baby robin here full chaos mode like he’s actually batwoman reader’s son at this point i don’t make the rules

reader’s super young too like EARLY twenties, 23-24 tops, MAX, she’s more bruce-coded than barbara-coded honestly the only thing she shares with barbara is the batwoman name and even then it’s hanging on by a thread

so like. dick?? practically HER KID. we’re safe.

• now the actual messy history??? it’s with SUPERMAN. and it’s DELICIOUS

so batwoman reader meets clark super early like 18 years old mask barely broken in cape still fresh she clocks him IMMEDIATELY

because hello giant walking god weapon with a moral compass, gotham-trained brain goes study that immediately

and guess what. feelings happened. oops.

they ended up dating. they WENT PUBLIC (mistake??? yes. iconic??? also yes.)

and the media tried to TEAR THEM APART bc the vibes were so crazy gotham’s billionaire orphan and a literal nobody reporter from nowhere?? the tabloids had a FIELD DAY

but they stuck it out bc they’re stubborn idiots and clark? was her first everything. first kiss. first love. first body. first person she let really see her behind the mask.

BUT of course trauma said no happiness allowed and guilt and gotham and vengeance ate her alive so she pushed clark away not bc she stopped loving him BUT bc she genuinely thought she didn’t deserve anything soft until she fixed everything broken in her world

they broke up (around 20yo) but LIKE the love did not evaporate bro it was STILL THERE

so sometimes when it got Bad (capital B) and she couldn’t breathe from the weight of everything??

she’d go to him. physically. because it was the only time she could open up without collapsing

clark (being clark) let her. no questions. no pressure. just love in whatever way she could accept.

eventually he moved on with lois (clark/lois endgame YESSSS) but clark never dipped out on her completely bc he KNEW she needed someone even if she’d never ask

ALSO during this clown fiesta she adopted dick and clark was THERE for that too and dick loves clark so bad like uncle/big brother energy it’s disgusting and adorable

CUT TO MARK GETTING THROWNNN INTO GOTHAM

not for a good reason not for field trips

he’s there because he needs to learn how to think before punching the sun in half he’s learning detective work. critical thinking. how to be careful. actual stealth. how to work a crime scene without leveling a city block.

and the bats??? they humble him IMMEDIATELY it’s beautiful

AND THEN...

AND THEN CLARK SHOWS UP LMAOOOO

just being normal checking in like “hey kiddo how’s it going” and mark???

mark on the outside: “haha nice to meet you dude :) love your work :)”

mark internally: screaming. vomiting. spontaneously combusting. fetal position in his brain.

because it’s one thing to KNOW your girl had a life before you and another thing entirely to STAND ACROSS from the man who was her first kiss first love first touch first EVERYTHING

and act like it’s fine mark TRUSTS her he LOVES her he KNOWS she’s with him now but that old gravity between her and clark??

that unspoken thing that exists between people who have been broken together and survived it??

he FEELS it

and it makes him wanna rip his hair out and scream into the void

and the best part

THE BEST PART

is that all that jealousy and panic and need is just simmering under his skin

and when it finally cracks ohhhhh bestie

it’s going to be FILTHY. it’s going to be DESPERATE.

he’s going to grab her like he thinks she’s going to vanish if he lets go for even a second and it’s gonna be messy and raw and perfect

and none of us are going to survive it

i’m not going to survive it

you’re not going to survive it

we’re all going to cry and throw up together

thank you for giving me the excuse to scream about it i love you forever <333

DISCLAIMER ITS NOT ANGSTY OR ANYTHING I SWEAR THEY TALK THROUGH IT

ー 🦇

[munsonfamilyband]

As I’m currently writing my full fic for the Claudia idea I had the other day, here is a little sneak peak of a scene that genuinely had me in tears writing it.

————-

“Robin, honey, I know what you’re thinking…” Claudia made sure to speak softly. Robin was clearly hanging by a thread as they both sat by Steve’s bedside. “It’s not-“

“But it is my fault! I knew he was hurt and I just-I just went home. I left him alone and hurt and-“ Robin cut herself off to take a deep breath. “How could I forget that he was hurt?”

“Steve is a big boy, he can take care of himself, usually. And he always insists on taking care of himself.”

“Exactly! He insists he can do it but he never does! It’s my job to make sure he takes care of himself because otherwise he won’t.”

“I know you two are close, but sweetie, you don’t have to take care of him.”

“I do, because-because he’s my-my-… he’s mine. And I’m his, and we take care of each other. It’s like I always had a heartbeat but I never realized it was two hearts beating together, not just the one. I can’t-…I don’t know what I would do without him. So I have to make sure he’s safe, just like he does for me….. And I failed him.”

[queerocfandomer]

"Reunited on the Road" - Chapter 7

You carefully weave the summoned roots into a protective shelter above the sleeping teen. Nearby, the rest of the coven gathers around a fire, its flames dancing eagerly as they prepare to boil water for a healing broth that will hopefully strengthen the boy further when he wakes. Agatha sits on a rock, her figure shadowed by the weight of her emotions, her stillness hinting at a storm brewing inside. To an outsider, she may appear calm, but the tears she has shed and the deep concern etched upon her face tell a different story, as you labor beside her.

You can’t help but reflect on the possible source of her feelings; they surge through you like a familiar tide, brushing against memories of your shared past. You have offered her comfort through many breakdowns, but very few have hit with such abrupt intensity. A painful memory ignites in your mind—the moment that SHE had confronted you both in your home—and you forcefully push it aside, feeling a twinge of regret for even recalling it. Yet, one thought persists, rising from the depths of unspoken worries: the pain of loss, the memories that had taken her the most time to reveal to you, thoughts that have enveloped her heart in darkness more times than you can count. This boy, you ponder deeply, does he evoke memories of him?

As you settle into the warm embrace of the earth beside her, your hands dig deeply into the soil, shaping it to cradle the precious ingredients that will soon flourish. Her gaze drifts back to the teen, a weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. “Do you know who he is, Agatha?” you inquire, your voice laced with genuine curiosity. 

She swallows hard, clearing her throat as her fingers dance nervously in her lap, almost as if playing with the strands of her missing purple. A heavy sigh escapes her lips, causing the tension in her shoulders to dissipate “I see you maintain that relentless habit of asking questions, especially about things I’d much prefer to leave buried,” she muses, her neck stretching in a subtle gesture of exasperation.

A grin breaks free on your lips, buoyed by the familiar banter. “Well, you know what they say—why bother trying to teach an old dog new tricks when they’ve already mastered the ones they know?” Your eyes lock for a fleeting moment, a spark of understanding passing between you before she theatrically rolls her eyes. 

“I have my suspicions,” she reveals, a hint of mystery lacing her words, “but they’re not strong enough for me to stake my claim.” Her gaze sharpens with intrigue, and she continues with a note of challenge, “After that balancing ritual, I think it’s fair to say, you might actually know more than I do.”

You meet her gaze, and in that moment, a flame of yearning for truth ignites from the depths of her eyes. Once again, she speaks the truth, leaving you to wonder why she chooses to do so. After countless conversations for over a decade you gently broke down her walls, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety and acceptance she had longed for, it had been ages since she last spun a web of deceit. Yet, given the distance that had grown between you, the fragile thread of connection now severed, it truly took you by surprise that she still chose honesty. Was it a cry for help, a desperate act born out of vulnerability? Or did she, perhaps, still find solace in the glimmer of trust that lingered between you?

“The sigil is powerful,” you confess, “it conceals his identity from me, even amidst the depths of his own aura… though I also have the feeling that he isn't entirely sure about who he is himself.” She gazes at the boy still lying unconscious on the ground, her expression reflecting genuine intrigue. 

“But Agatha,” you hesitate, weighed down by the gravity of your thoughts, you choose to respond in kind to her honesty,  “he possesses an immense power within him.” She shifts in her seat, an edge of concern crossing her face “I’m not certain he even realizes it’s there, and if he does, I doubt he truly grasps its magnitude. Honestly It’s unlike any power I’ve encountered —it’s… unique and unmistakably distinctive. But then again, I have a lingering suspicion you’ve sensed it too… or at the very least, you’ve suspected all along.”

A flicker of concern danced across her features as you turn your focus back to your task. Your hands blaze to life with that familiar green glow, one sinking into the earth while the other gracefully traces the necessary incantations above. As the light surged forth, you caught sight of Agatha stirring, pulling her gaze back to you with an intensity that made your heart quicken. You could almost taste her restless energy, the anxiety that had taken root within her since the loss of her powers. She craved that exhilarating jolt of strength, that raw electricity, yet beneath it all, you sensed a deeper longing— as if your very presence had ignited a spark in the darkness.

As you summon what you desire from the earth, drawing the essence of your garden here, wherever that may be, the vibrant plants—Sage, Rosemary, Yarrow, and Dogwood—start to emerge, breaking free from the embrace of the soil. As you gently withdraw your hand from the earth, a rush of exhilaration courses through you, and before Agatha can even think to stop you, your thumb leaves a smudge of earth on her forehead. A sound of protest slips from her lips as she instinctively brushes the dirt away, but when her gaze meets yours, all at once, there’s a profound comfort that sparkles in her eyes, an unspoken understanding that transcends the moment.

You move to kneel before her, a tentative smile on your lips, your heart aching with a desperate yearning for the pain to fade. Yet, even the mere act of being close to her sends shivers through your soul. You have nothing left to lose, right? The thought flickers in your mind as your clean hand gently rests on her knee. 

“Agatha,” you say with a weighty seriousness, locking your gaze with hers, feeling the unspoken connection, a silent understanding of the gravity in the moment. You watch as she swallows hard, the tension palpable between you. “What is it about him that has you so unsettled?” you inquire, infusing your tone with the firmness of your concern. “I’m worried,” you confess, and as those words spill from your lips, you catch a fleeting sparkle of hope flicker across her face. You press on, your heart pounding, “I’m worried that when you look at him, you see Nicky.”

You instinctively break her gaze, unable to bear the sight of the hurt you've unleashed within her by merely uttering those words. You brace yourself for her to pull away, perhaps even to demand that you leave. But what shatters your own expectation is the gentle warmth of her hand finding its way atop yours, resting on her now trembling leg. As she takes a deep, shaky breath—one that feels like it’s been held within her since the moment she stepped onto this road—you look up, your heart aching with the weight of your words.

She locks eyes with you, her voice filled with a raw sincerity as she confesses, “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard, that there wasn’t a familiarity, a desire that might even feel like a need.” Her voice quivers with emotion, as she grips your hand tightly, as if anchoring herself to the moment, and presses on, “But don’t worry… I know it’s not him.” Her gaze cuts right through you, an intensity that leaves you breathless. “I may wish it could be, but… I know…” she trails off, an earnest shrug following as a single tear makes its slow descent down her cheek, a silent testament to the pain within her heart.

You lift your legs, drawing yourself nearly level with her, and in that shared space, you gently release her hand. Your fingers reach for her face, wiping away the trail of her tear with your thumb and tucking hair behind her ear with a tenderness that feels electric. Your palm cradles her face, and as she closes her eyes, leaning into your touch, a quiet reconnection blooms between you. “I’ll always worry for you” you utter softly, and as her eyes open her lips curl into the faintest smile. She moves her hand to rest gently on your collarbone, and in that moment, a familiar warmth envelops you both, wrapping around your hearts as you remain suspended in stillness, allowing those feelings to settle.

>>>NEXT PART

[moreausturtles]

"the orange sun in the blue sky"

a/n: hi guys this is a rly rly old weirdly made draft that I made during my rly bad hyperfixation on the rise movie; i thought i might share it with y'all bc im somewhat proud of it? pls dont mind any mistakes i wrote it in a rush i think...? gl to everyone reading hahaha lmk what u think pls dont be mean

summary: leo and mikey are the only ones alive. they finally defeat the last of the kraang, but at a cost.

warnings: unchecked + unedited weird bullet point format; slight mentions of death/blood; one swear word?; very angsty and sad sorry :((

word count: ~1k

(imagine FINALLY defeating Krang 1 as a mission success)

- the baja blast duo fight the krang, lots of hard hits and close calls and they have the LUCKIEST breakthrough.

- krang 1 is on the ground and no longer able to move, all its tentacles are severed. its hanging on by a thread, one that leo is more than happy to cut.

- “this is for my family.” leo whispers, looking down at the krang in disdain.

- he jabs his sword into the krang's body under his foot, killing it in one motion.

- and just like that, it was over.

- leo takes a moment to breathe, like his body wasn’t letting him before.

- he allows himself to think, to process, to take in the fact that they had just won the war.

they won.

- a small smile grows on his face and a quick rush of excitement takes over his body

- “we did it…” he whispers, “mikey, we did it!” he repeats it, a part of him still in denial and acting like saying it again was going to convince him that the worst was over.

- but the worst was far from it.

- he turns around to mikey excitedly, who he thought was just quiet because he was just as shocked as he was

- but boy was he stupidly wrong

- mikey stood there, a hand on the side of his plastron with blood dripping from it then to the ground

“mikey…?”

- he tries to give leo a smile, but fails as his body drops to the ground

- leo’s heart drops along with him, he calls out his name and runs to him quickly and takes him in his arms

- mikey, even before his mystic powers, always had this signature orange glow radiating off of him. but this time, leo was afraid it was going to become very dim very soon.

- leo took his baby brother’s head in his hand—he didn’t care if mikey was fucking older than him (hc no thanks to his excessive use of mystic power), he was still his baby brother

- mikey needed medical attention fast. but they were in the middle of nowhere. no medical team. no backup. no hamato.

- “we did it, leo…?” mike manages to whisper out and smiled up at his older brother.

- “yeah buddy, we did…” the sniffling soon came as leo tried to fight back tears. he had known this would happen; could you really blame a guy whose family got picked off one by one during the apocalypse to think that way?

“i’m sorry, leo...”

- god, mikey’s voice shattered leo’s heart into pieces. so weak and trying.

- “hey,” leo uttered, trying to change the topic, “remember the time when you thought the gumbus was real?”

- this earned a very weak, wheezed chuckle from the mystic turtle, who had his eyes closed to visualize the fond memory

- “you did too…” leo laughed bitterly at that, feeling his little brother’s breathing pattern slow.

- “i did, yeah. it’s one of my favorite memories.” said leo.

- “mine too…” mikey opened his eyes, the memory ending, and looked up to see leo’s face drenched in tears. a pang hit mikey’s chest as he realized he was going to leave his brother soon.

- “hey, leo?”

- “yeah, miguel?” a playful nickname he hadn’t heard in years.

“you were always my favorite brother.”

leo laughed, genuinely laughed even though it felt like he was being stabbed in the chest tenfold.

- “don’t tell donnie or raph.”

- “i think they know.”

- both of them pause for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say or do. there wasn’t really anything else to do but wait. Each second leo spent trying to figure out what words he wanted to tell mikey. “I’m sorry.” “Say hi to them for me.” “Please don’t leave me alone.”

- mikey was his partner in crime and now he was just… fading. His little brother was dying.

- leo knew their time was running short from the way he was listening to mikey’s labored breaths. slow and trying. mikey thought about using his mystic power for one last push, to stay with leo, to make do with what was left of the world.

- they could rebuild it. it was easy for him to make things out of thin air. leo knows how to build and farm and haul and everything you could think of.

- but the mystic warrior was tired. they had been fighting for decades. he couldn’t lift a single finger even if he tried, and that was fine with him. he honestlyhadn’t felt relaxed like that in years.

- maybe they were better off not saying a word, mikey needed to save any air he could take in. leo kept his mouth shut just so he could spent just a little bit more time together in this bittersweet silence.

- suddenly he sees mikey’s lips open a little bit, and the next words that come out would forever leave leo wounded.

“I love you, big brother.”

- it took everything in leo to not break out in full sobs right then and there. he wanted to scream, beg, plead to the God that did this to mikey— if one even existed.

- leo swallowed the lump in his throat, forming the best—and last— smile he could muster for mikey, mimicking him the way he used to do it for him and his older brothers so they wouldn’t have to worry.

“I love you too, little bro.”

- leo’s little ray of hope slowly went limp in his arms. and he was all alone.

- leo kept mikey in his arms, still and unmoving. maybe it was his punishment for putting mikey in this whole mess. for destroying the world and his entire family. maybe a God did exist, it was just never in his favor no matter how hard he fought to appease it.

leonardo, the last one standing of the hamatos, defeated the Krang and lived, while mikey took his place in the sky as leo’s ray of sunshine.

[horsetailcurlers2]

YET ANOTHER long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching grey’s anatomy for the first time (season 14 because i’m still hanging on by a thread)

-why did megan hunt have a fresh coat of mascara and some lip gloss on when she got flown in with her gaping abdominal wound LMAO

-teddy!!!!!

-i absolutely think they should tell megan about meredith and riggs and let her make an informed decision on whether she wants meredith to be her surgeon. this is greys anatomy, of course there’s gonna be a conflict of interest. they’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.

-somebody tell me when the show stops being worth watching. so far i’m hanging on bc i’m mildly interested in how jo and alex turn out, i want teddy and amelia to interact, and i’ve warmed up to arizona since she broke up with callie. obvi i love meredith i just don’t know how much more they can do with her before i just want her to take a warm bath and retire to somewhere far far away with her children.

-did amelia relapse offscreen???? wtf is going on???

-okay she has a tumor i guess. sure, okay, whatever. !!!!

-she put a gun in her !!!!!!!!! for a man???

-i don’t love the way they’ve introduced the new intern class. they set it up as if we already know them, whereas i feel like with every other class of interns we’ve gotten eased into it a bit more before we’re just tossed into this unfamiliar dynamic

-okay but wait i do like that in this ep w the roller coaster (and the people who are supposed to be baby cristina, george and izzie) they referenced the old intro. i think the writers knew they needed a little nostalgia to hook people back in at this point. jury is still out whether or not it’s working on me.

-maybe i’m stupid but why in the fuck would they have so many important things dependent on one networked computer system. why on earth would cardiac monitors be hackable?????

-idk about maggie/jackson…. seems too incest adjacent

-the casual gaslighting and manipulation with paul stadler is so well written

-“jackson avery, you are such a disappointment, i thought you were woke!!!”

-genuine question: do they just not do chemistry reads on this show when they cast romantic interests???

-*choked up*”right before she died, she told me i should be more slutty. and i just wish i could call her and tell her how slutty i’m being” i really do love maggie

-maybe i missed it but why does carina have an italian accent but andrew doesn’t?

-i like the development of jo and meredith’s relationship

-i think meredith and this firefighter woman should kiss on the mouth

-i like april better now that she’s kind of a mess

-OOH wait does helm have a little crush on meredith bc i’m kind of obsessed with that

-if there’s one thing greys usually kills it with its casting younger versions of characters for flashbacks

-i miss joe the bartender :(

-oh my god he gives them fake cancer so he can charge them for fake chemo?????? what the fuck

-too much of an emphasis on these lesbian cookies…. suspicious

-okay yeah that makes sense. i love this

-nurse olivia!!

-olivia of course has a right to still be upset but it’s a little weird to assume alex didn’t change at all in the past ten years. not to mention it’s weird to act morally superior about it now when she cheated on george with alex

-“if you wanna rebuild you have to tear it down first” bingo

-did i miss amelia getting her own place or is she taking this girl to meredith’s house??

-okay i guess she’s just moved in with owen again. i need to pay better attention lol but so much keeps happening and it’s a lot of mush to sift through

-“meredith grey is straight” “ever hear her talk about cristina yang?” LMAO

-PREGNANT?

[little-peril-stories]

The Prince of Thieves: As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Contains: annoying children; annoying men; social pressure to kiss under the mistletoe

Previous | TPOT Masterlist | Next | Read on Ao3 instead

Word count: 4000 || Approx reading time: 17 mins

Easier to understand if you've read Are You Nobody, Too?

As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Teaser: I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

Bree

The deal is thus: one more round of preparatory Christmas baking to keep our patrons well-fed and smiling on Christmas Day, and then I am permitted to join the hullabaloo out on the floor, where everyone is busy decorating the tree Will, Jamie, Geoff, and Allan brought inside. (Well, if the way they barrelled through the door is to be believed, the former three did the hauling of the actual tree, and Allan was the one who ended up carrying all their stuff, including Will’s coat that he oh-so-wisely doffed despite the cold wind and the snow.)

I make it out of the kitchen to see Stella loudly warning the children staying at the inn that no one is to put any candles on the tree branches, and just because the fancy trees owned by rich families and royalty bear gleaming, brightly lit flames does not mean that she has to do the same. How would we all like it, she barks, if the entire inn caught fire and we were all thrown out in the snow for our own safety in the dead of night?

Even Celeste doesn’t try to stem Stella’s tirade; none of us, as it turns out, wants to burn to death on Christmas Eve, and no one puts up a fight on the matter.

“Ah, here’s Lucy now,” Celeste says, waving me over. “These lovely little lads and lasses are going to make us some beautiful ornaments to hang upon the tree. Isn’t that right, children?” She points to the table, now strewn with all the coloured paper, scissors, needles and thread, and other decorating paraphernalia.

An excitable chorus of agreement swells around us, making me smile until Celeste finishes, “And Miss Lucy’s here to keep an eye on you and help you, all right?”

Across the room, Victoria, who’s obviously listening, presses her hand to her mouth in genuine pity as mine drops open.

“How wonderful,” I manage to say. The first barrage of little hands is already tugging at my skirt.

Celeste smiles sympathetically—not quite sympathetically enough to take over the task herself, though, of course. I suppose someone does need to ensure things are running smoothly around the inn and she is perhaps a bit old to be minding little ones…but still.

“I’ll be around if you need me,” she says, which does not offer me much comfort. “Don’t let the really young ones touch the scissors or the needles.”

“You’re responsible for wiping their tears and cleaning up the blood if you do,” Stella says, whizzing past with a broom and disappearing again.

Great.

As I’m about to let myself fall into self-pity looking at the crowd of children—every single one vying for my attention—and wonder where all their parents are, I notice that a blue-eyed gaze is watching me from across the room.

“What?” I mouth impatiently. I don’t have time for Henry’s nonsense on a good day—certainly not when I’m going to spend the next two hours stringing dried apples and popcorn into garlands, or folding paper into stars and flowers while being shrieked at by a horde of children.

Instead of trying to answer through all the chaos, he just holds something up into the air.

Oh, he’s lucky I’m not anywhere close to him right now, because I am holding a very sharp pair of scissors and he ought to be very, very grateful I can’t drive them right into his hand.

Dangling from his hand: a bouquet of greenery tied in a red ribbon. Soft green leaves, thin stalks, and brilliant, round berries as white as the snow that coats the ground outside.

“Absolutely not,” I shout across the room, forgetting myself, and he flashes me that asshole grin of his. “Get it out of here!”

Colette, who is pretending to read Dickens while she coolly observes the pandemonium from the corner where she’s sitting with the others, notices me yelling and follows my gaze to Henry Bailey and his goddamn sprigs of mistletoe. Her eyebrows move upwards.

Unfortunately, the bombardment of, “Miss Lucy! Miss Lucy!” grows to be too much then, and now I have to actually be grateful to be surrounded by all the little Christmas goblins who need to me to do everything for them, because as long as I’m being climbed on by five-year-olds, Henry can’t get anywhere near me with his stupid plant or his stupid mouth.

“All right,” I say, clapping my hands in a weak attempt to look like I know how to command the attention of children. “Shall we begin?”

I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

 One kid ends up on the floor and makes me yelp when she crawls right under my skirt, between my legs, all rosy-cheeked and giggling.

“Right! No, thank you!” I tug her to her feet and catch Victoria leaning against the wall, giggling helplessly at my plight. She’s supposed to be untangling the existing garlands, I think, and she’s got part of one hanging over her shoulder, but apparently my suffering is an endless well of amusement. Maybe this was her duty last year, before I was hired, and she is sympathetic but relieved to be free of it. Maybe this is some sort of rite of passage I need to survive. Somehow.

I take the little girl by the hand and guide her to the table. “What about a star?” I ask her uncertainly. “Does that sound fun?”

She gives some sort of incoherent babbling in response and reaches for the coloured paper and a pencil. With her attention on that, I can move on to the next squealing child.

There are a few older kids, thank goodness, that I pass some of the duties to, getting them to cut paper snowflakes and stars for the younger ones while I thread needles and fold paper into roses. Well…try to.

“Hey. Let us help.”

It’s so loud in here, I almost miss it. Maybe I did miss the first few times they said it, because Colette just elbows her way in and sits down, directing Will to do the same on the other side of me.

“Let me fold,” she says, not-at-all-subtly biting back a laugh and taking my sorry attempt at paper foliage right out of my hands. “You do the other stuff.”

Well. If she wants to suffer through that, I’m not going to take the opportunity away from her. I’ll happily relinquish that responsibility.

“I can do this,” Will says, picking up one of the threaded needles. He must be able to read the question in my raised eyebrows, because he says, “Hey! It’s not that hard. And I can sew. Sort of. Now. Kind of.”

Next to me, Colette snorts.

“It’s not real sewing, anyway, though, is it?” He’s going a little red, but the look on his face is earnest.

I pluck the needle from his hand. “I think I have a better idea.”

I’ll take care of making the garlands with the “help” of some of the little ones. He can be the one to lift them up and stand them on chairs sturdily enough that they don’t fall and break their necks or knock over anything that might shatter while they add their decorations to the tree.

“Brave,” Colette murmurs once we’ve set him doing that, “but pretty smart.”

“Brave?” I repeat, wincing. How is this needle so dull? This is the eighth time I’ve accidentally stabbed myself trying to string popcorn.

She nods toward Will. “Well, smart to have him do that so you don’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”

She grins conspiratorially, and I can’t help but match it. “Was it that obvious?”

“No. I just know you’re clever. Like me.” She laughs. “And brave to trust him with—well, with anything.”

My answer slips out so fast, I’ve said it before I’ve even thought it through. The words just fall out. “Of course I trust him. I trust him with my—”

The needle bites into my finger again, and I stop, hissing and checking for blood.

Still smiling, she concentrates on her folding and twisting and doesn’t give an answer.

For a few minutes, anyway.

“And Goldilocks?” She nods across the room, and I peer out through the chaos, trying to find who she means. “You trust him?”

It takes me a moment to realize who she’s talking about: a grinning, loud-mouthed figure who’s got Stella’s glare on him as well as mine and Colette’s.

Goldilocks. She’s calling Henry Goldilocks. I almost fall off my chair, giggling and silently resolving to bring the name into our next practice session to see what he says.

“Oh, he’s harmless,” I tell her when I can speak again. “I mean, he’s shameless. A ridiculous flirt.”

“You don’t say,” she says drily.

I bite my lip. Sounds like he’s tried at least a little to get her attention, too, albeit unsuccessfully. “Yeah. He’s an idiot. But he knows it, at least. And he’s all right when you get to know him. Just…irritating.”

“Are you actually friends with him?” she asks, incredulous.

“I suppose so,” I say, thinking of a bruise I’ve got on my hip from our last morning session that I still need to pay him back for.

“So you trust him, too.”

Trust him? I must, considering all the times I’ve put my bodily well-being in his hands. “Well, I suppose I trust him enough.” I shoot a dirty look his way, though, at the reminder of what new instrument of annoyance he’s brought into the inn. “I wasn’t expecting the mistletoe, though.”

“Want me to set him straight for you?”

A funny thing happens deep behind my ribcage at her words. “No…no, I can handle him. I promise.” At this, I almost want to cry, although I expect it would look strange to see me weeping into a bowl of dried oranges and popcorn just because she offered to get Henry to lay off and quit bothering me. Because maybe Colette, even just a bit, sort of cares. “But I appreciate it. Really.”

“Just say the word,” she says, leaning over a paper carnation. “He looks like he’d be fun to smack around if he stepped out of line.”

“He is,” I joke back without thinking.

Colette’s head snaps back up.

“I mean…” Shit. “You know. Telling him to back off. And stuff.”

I don’t know why I’m keeping the lessons a secret from her. I’m pretty sure she knows how to fight. She probably wouldn’t think it strange. But I find my gaze pulled to another figure in the room, all freckles and flailing elbows and big grins, and I have to wonder what he’d think if she went and told him. Not that it matters, of course. It doesn’t. But still. I wonder. Just a little.

Colette gives me a look that says she knows very well what it looks like when people are keeping secrets, but she doesn’t press the matter.

After a cursory look at the little ones to make sure no one has a sharp tool who shouldn’t have one, and no one’s crying, fighting, or making more of a mess than expected, I put my attention back on Will. I didn’t really know what I was doing when I told him to help the children put their ornaments on the tree, but he’s doing a splendid job, so much that I almost want to let my hands fall still so I can keep watching him. He’s got this great silly smile on his face every time he kneels down to talk to one of them, and even though they’re so much smaller, none of them seem the slightest bit frightened. One of the little girls—of course, it’s the one with personal space issues, the one who crawled under my legs earlier—even leaps into his arms out of sheer excitement to put her messily drawn star as high upon the tree as she can reach.

As she stretches her arm and hangs it near the top, Will looks over here too, and I’m caught staring.

Stupidly, I wave at him, not sure what else to do since it’s too late to look away, and he grins, holding my gaze with those sparkling eyes for a few extra moments before he has to bring the girl back down to the ground.

“You all right?” Colette asks lightly, and I realize one of my hands has come to rest over my heart, which is pounding in a most unseemly and ridiculous way.

“Yes,” I say quickly, reaching for another slice of dried orange. “I’m just getting tired. It’s been a busy day.”

She gives me that look again.

“I didn’t know Will liked kids,” I say.

She glances over at him, a little smile on her lips. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s nothing but a big kid himself.”

And to be fair, he seems to be having the time of his life, bouncing around and making them “fly” a little when they ask for it and laughing at the same silly things they all find amusing. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she says, and she winks.

I don’t expect there will be any Christmas gifts under that tree for me tomorrow, but, even so, it sure feels like I’ve got something else, something that can’t be wrapped up in a box and ribbon. Something I didn’t have before.

And like mulled wine, warm and comforting and steeped in spices that taste like home, gratitude spills over me—for smiles and company and maybe, just maybe, newly forged friendship.

***

The other three have been hiding out in the corner for through most of the decorating, but when it comes time to crown the tree with the star, Stella takes one look around the room and lands a stare on Geoff. “You. Get over here.”

There’s only a split second of him staring back at her in surprise, and then, at the sound of Colette bursting into laughter, and at the unbudging resolution in Stella’s voice, he rises and crosses the room.

“Wow,” says one of the children, practically bug-eyed. “He’s tall.”

“I know,” Celeste says with a laugh. “That’s why we need him.”

The little girl from before, who seems to have finally found her harried-looking mother, bursts away and darts toward Geoff. “Can I do it? Please? Please? Please?”

Geoff stands helplessly, clearly not knowing what to do while she dances around him, pleading to be the one to put the star on the top of the tree. A glance at Will shows that he’s almost toppled to the floor, shaking with silent laughter, and another at Jamie shows that he has his arms crossed and is merely watching with a smile. He doesn’t notice me staring, but gives Geoff an encouraging nod.

“That okay?” Geoff asks the girl’s mother, voice low but uncertain, almost nervous.

She looks him up and down, obviously wary of his gruffness and his ridiculous height, but the daughter is clinging to his hands now, jumping up and down, and the mother has no choice but to say, “Well, all right then. If you’ll—um—if you’ll be careful.”

The girl squeals with delight as Celeste hands her the star and Geoff lifts her into the air, no step-ladder needed.

“Perfect,” Celeste says when the star is glinting atop the tree, and after Geoff has taken a moment to straighten it from the slightly drunken posture it was left in by the girl. Even Stella looks genuinely happy. She doesn’t bat Celeste’s hands away when they come to rest upon her—one on her shoulder, the other with fingers entwined with hers.

I peek back at the others, curious to see their reactions to the loveliness of the tree they chose, adorned and glittering. Will’s grinning, although for some reason he glances a few times at the clock; Jamie looks content; Allan is distracted by tending to someone’s kid who got a pine needle stick under his fingernail; Geoff is trying to slink back to Jamie’s side without being noticed; and Colette’s given up her reading ruse entirely, now openly watching Stella and Celeste with undisguised interest. It’s clear from how she’s always watching everything that goes on around here that her old habits from being IA’s information-gatherer are taking their sweet time to fade away.

“Hey, Miss Lucy.”

And, of course, now there’s this voice interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, Mr. Bailey? What can I do for you?” Turning around brings me face to face with his red waistcoat, and I tilt my head up to frown at him, suspicious. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” he asked, all innocence.

“You know what.” I cross my arms. “Your damn mistletoe.”

“What damn mistletoe?”

“Henry.”

He flashes me that stupid, stupid grin. “You mean this?”

All around us, the older kids burst into cries, giggles, and oohs when he pulls it from behind his back and dangles it over my head. The younger ones don’t seem to know what it means, but buoyed by the infuriating enthusiasm of their older siblings, they join in on the excited squalling.

“We had a deal,” I say, trying to keep smiling for the sake of these goddamn children and no one else.

“Ah, yeah. We did. I recall.” But he’s still smirking. “This, though. It’s a Christmas tradition! Nothing more. And you don’t want to spit in the face of tradition, do you?”

“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth.

He laughs, damn him. “No, you don’t.”

The kids are all shrieking now, like they’ve never seen mistletoe before, which cannot possibly be true. With my face burning, I step a little closer, aiming for his foot with mine. He dodges at the last second.

“You gotta try a little harder than that,” he says with a wink.

“Is that a challenge?”

I can’t control the way my eyes peer back, just for a second. It’s Colette who catches my eye; she has somehow commandeered Geoff away from Jamie, but she’s not looking at him while she talks. Like everyone else in this stupid inn, she’s watching Henry taunt me with those stupid fucking berries over my head.

With a sigh, I step forward and plant the most chaste kiss I can possibly manage on Henry’s cheek, this time landing a stomp on his toes.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” I hiss in his ear.

Even though I’m sure his foot hurts, his eyes are still sparkling. “Darling, I’m counting on it.”

No one notices me trampling his toes or whispering threats, of course; the kids are all too busy losing their minds, along with someone else. Throwing his head back, laughing his ass off, Henry lets out a victorious whoop, then kisses me in matching chasteness on my cheek, and it’s only because he doesn’t try to steal a real kiss that I don’t sock him right in the stomach and show off all he’s taught me in front of everyone.

My heart’s pounding, I realize when he pulls away, but it has nothing to do with Henry’s lips against my cheek.

Victoria, looking sulkier than she did before, tries to nudge through the crowd, and I grab her hand. “Hey! Look!” I cry dramatically. “Mistletoe!”

And I switch places with her, so she’s now standing with Henry instead of me, and she’s giving me a look of pure joy, all sullenness instantly banished, and Henry’s rolling his eyes but also seeming to say, Well, may as well, and he kisses her, too, making her squeal and eliciting a round of cheers from his friends.

“Merry Christmas, you annoying bastard,” I say, quietly enough that no one can hear me—it wouldn’t do to scandalize the children, after all—but maybe, with any luck, he’ll read my lips and get the hint.

I glance at the corner, where Colette is clutching Geoff’s arm and suppressing a laugh with her lips squeezed together. Jamie’s stone faced. Allan looks confused.

Will is gone.

***

I don’t think my feet have ever hurt so much. This is the thought that keeps repeating in my head as I stumble upstairs to mine and Victoria’s room. Actually, it’s just my room tonight, because after she finished work, she departed to spend the night with her family so she can wake up with them on Christmas morning. I asked her once why she lives here with Stella and Celeste if her family’s not that far away, and she just said they lived too far out of town that the journey every day wouldn’t have been worthwhile. I figured I’d just take her word for it, but if I had a choice between living with Stella and not, well…

I’m almost up the stairs when a familiar voice breaks through the quiet.

“Will, are you even listening?”

Seems that when he disappeared earlier, he just came straight back up here.

“Mmm hmm,” he responds, or that’s what it sounds like, anyway. It’s quiet, almost inaudible, and unmistakably the voice of a man who is not listening at all.

Another voice. Jamie’s. Faintly concerned and quieter than Colette’s. “I guess none of us are getting any sleep tonight, huh?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Will mumbles back. “It’s not finished.”

“Looks finished.” That one’s Geoff, all rumble and thinly disguised amusement.

“Well, it’s not.”

Eavesdropping is wrong, but my curiosity burns a little. Well, a lot. Not finished what? Is “it” the reason he ran off, away from the mistletoe and the tree and the Henry Bailey debacle? Did he even see any of that?

Not that I care, of course.

“I still think you should listen,” says Colette. “I’m going to keep going now.”

“Okay,” he grumbles. “Hurry up, then.”

A soft grunt and the faintest thud make me wonder if she didn’t throw a pillow right at his head.

“‘And yet I should have dearly liked, I own,’” Colette reads after Will’s cursing has died down, “‘to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value.’”

There’s a moment of silence as she pauses, a silence that seems to contain every possible emotion, breathless and urgent, as it rolls through the air.

Then…

“You’re a goddamn busybody, Colette.” It’s not Will who tells her off, even though he was the one whose attention was being requested; it’s Jamie. “I know what you’re—”

But someone’s laughing—no, more than one person. At least two. Colette, for sure, and if my ears don’t deceive me, Geoff.

“What are you so worked up about? I’m just reading. It’s right here! Look.” I can only assume she’s pointing to her page. “He didn’t hear a damn word, anyway.”

And it certainly seems like it; there’s not even a hint of a reaction from Will, except for, “The hell is so funny?”

“If it’s worth anything,” Allan’s voice says, “I’m not sure I’m comprehending, either.”

Colette says, “Oh, you’re both hopeless. Never let it be said that I didn’t at least try,” and then she’s back to reading A Christmas Carol and there’s nothing interesting left to listen in on except for Dickens’ beautiful prose.

I back away from their door, guilt already swarming all over me about the eavesdropping but warring with the strangest feeling, fuzzy and muddled to say the least, that there were two people meant to hear that passage, and while one of them did not, the other, quite possibly, heard it loud and clear as the tolling bells of midnight, heralding the arrival of Christmas Day.

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[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart 2 - Chapter 9

Undetected

Matthew trembled as he stood  in the observation room, watching as Kyra was conveyed into the MRI machine.  She appeared calm, even attempting a joke with the technician, but she somehow seemed much smaller than usual and Matthew just wanted to get her out of there and take her someplace safe.

Kyra’s oncologist, Dr Nolan, stood to one side with Dr Ramsey.

“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” she asked Matthew.

“I…I can separate my feelings from the medicine.”

“I know you can, Doctor, that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m not sure it’s even the right perspective,” Ethan added. “Kyra’s going to need you as her friend and her doctor. Finding the balance can be difficult but vital.”

Matthew turned back to the window. He could only see Kyra’s head. She had lost so much hair that there wasn’t even a shadow of stubble.

“Dr Valentine, you’ll have to prepare yourself,” Dr Nolan warned.

Another kind, dark-haired woman floated into Matthew’s mind. Dolores Hudson had been one of Ethan’s few personal friends, and his first patient loss. It happened near the end of his first week and had been the hardest thing he’d had to deal with so far. That was the day he’d first met Rafael, and the day Kyra was scheduled for a surgery, Bryce assisting. Right when Matthew had needed to hear good news, Bryce had come looking for him to tell him the surgery went well and Kyra was resting. Back then it felt like things would all work out, but today Matthew couldn’t remember the last genuinely good news he’d had. He bit his lip as the corners of his mouth trembled.

“I’ve had patients die before.” His voice had a husky tone that it always took on when he was sad. It seemed to have been coming out a lot recently.

“Not a patient you’ve treated since the start of your residency, or one you care this deeply about.”

Matthew nodded, taking a deep breath.

“How do I prepare for something like that?”

Ramsey and Nolan shared a glance.

“Do everything you can for them. Even if it means prioritising their quality of life over the fight.”

“She’ll get nothing but the best care from me,” Matthew insisted. “Whatever that means.” He had to look away as he blinked back tears. “God, it’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Good people always suffer.” Ethan gently rested a hand on his shoulder. “We just have to help them the best we can.”

Ethan and Matthew left Dr Nolan to the observation. Matthew’s stomach was tight as he tried to think of ways he could help Kyra. He couldn’t possibly be expected to sit back and do nothing. He had been helpless during his sister’s fight, and now it was happening again, despite his training, experience and skill, he found himself rendered almost equally helpless. It was a joke.

He paged Esme for her cases as usual. She arrived promptly as she always did.

“You paged?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I have some new admissions for you. Flu in room 203, persistent cough in room 219 – probably pneumonia, but do a full work-up just in case…”

Esme raised an eyebrow.

“You usually make me read the chart and figure out what’s wrong for myself. What gives?”

“Sometimes I just need you to do the simple things.”

“You’re being weird.” Esme tucked her hair behind her ear. “is everything OK?”

“I…I just…” Matthew sighed. “I have a lot on my mind. My good friend’s cancer is getting worse. Not to mention the hospital’s future is hanging by a thread…”

“So you’re kind of stressed,” Esme said, already knowing that she had just made a massive understatement. She glanced down the corridor and then stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“Do you need me to do anything? Can I take some of your patients for you?”

“No,” Matthew said, surprised and slightly touched. “But…thanks, Esme.”

“OK. Just let me know if that changes.” She gathered up her charts. “And…sorry. I guess there’s nothing else to say but sorry.”

“Thanks…”

Esme left with one last sympathetic look. Matthew had to take several deep breaths – the tried and tested Mrs Turner method had never failed yet but there was a first time for everything – before he moved on. He had plenty of patients counting on him, there was no time for dwelling.

“But…I…what if she dies?!”

“We’ll…uh…I mean, I’ll handle it, OK? Don’t stress.”

It was Elijah and Sothy. Matthew frowned, peering through a small window in the doorway to see them bent over an unconscious woman. It wasn’t his patient…but it sounded like they might be in trouble.

“What’s the situation?” Matthew threw open the door and the other doctors jumped. Sothy, in particular, stumbled back a few paces.

“Dr Valentine!”

He looked terrified, Elijah less so, but still didn’t seem entirely pleased to see Matthew.

“The situation is…the patient accidentally got a 500mg dose of diphenhydramine hydrochloride.”

Matthew’s eyes bugged.

“Elijah, that’s ten times the normal dose!”

“It’s OK, she’s just unconscious,” Elijah insisted. “We’ll pump her stomach and she’ll be totally fine. Sothy, get me the gastric lavage tube.”

Sothy gulped and turned to a cart of emergency equipment before hesitating.

“Um…what does that one look like again?”

“Are you serious? You’re five months into residency!” Matthew groaned, just about resisting the urge to pull on his hair; there wouldn’t be time to sanitise. Sothy looked at Matthew like he was a ferocious tiger. Matthew took a deep breath and tossed a box of gloves at him.

“Suit up, Sothy. You need to protect yourself and your patient before you do anything else.”

“Wait, you want me to--”

“Are you a doctor or not?!”

“I…I am! But…”

“Come on, do as he says, Sothy.” Elijah’s calm voice seemed to convince Sothy. He pulled on the gloves and swallowed.

“OK, now grab the rubber tubes. You’ll want the funnel as well.”

Over the next few minutes, Matthew talked Sothy through the stomach pump procedure. Sothy’s hands trembled as he fitted the tubes into a Y-shape but he did it quickly enough, and lubricated the first few inches on the longer part of the tube. Meanwhile, Matthew rolled the patient onto her side and Elijah placed a bucket beside the bed. He looked worried.

“Matthew, are you sure? He’s never done anything like this before.”

“He has to do it sometime.”

“Dr Valentine, is this enough?”

The tube gleamed where the lubrication caught the light.

“Yes. Now, I want you to gently feed the tube into the patient’s mouth. Slow down if you meet resistance. Do not force it.”

“You can do it,” Elijah encouraged.

Sothy gulped as he slid the tube into the patients mouth, stopping and starting, his hands shaking even more, until he hit the stomach. Elijah positioned one end of the Y-shape into the bucket as Matthew instructed Sothy to fit the funnel into his end of the tubing and pour saline down the patients throat in short bursts.

“Now clamp the tube with the funnel and squeeze the handpump.”

Sothy did so, and the three of them held their breaths for a minute until the patient convulsed. Murky, sharp-smelling fluid poured from the end of the tube and into the bucket. Sothy peered over it.

“Is that…did I do it?”

“Yeah, Sothy, you did it!” Elijah said. “She’s gonna be OK!”

“This time,” Matthew added, pointedly. Elijah wilted.

Sothy had to return to his other patients – with strict instructions to page either of them if he had any problems – as Matthew and Elijah paged Danny to make sure the current patient was looked after before they stepped outside for some fresh air.

“Sothy’s the one who gave the patient the wrong dosage, isn’t he?” Matthew asked, after a moment of quiet.

“Yeah,” Elijah admitted with a sigh.

“Are you OK?” Matthew noticed how Elijah was slumped in his wheelchair.

“Shaken, mostly. I didn’t think it would get this far.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wanted to be the kind of teacher I always wanted to have. One who spoke my language. Except we started having so much fun together that turning things into a lesson or lecture would have, er, ruined the vibe.”

“Elijah…”

“He’s seriously smart, I’ve seen it. But he got into a panic with his first patient so I jumped in to smooth it over so he wouldn’t feel too bad. And then it snowballed from there.” He looked at Matthew guiltily. “I should have listened to you and Jackie back then.”

“You have to stop that now. What if he does something worse, or if you’re not there to bail him out?” Matthew thought of how Esme had offered to take his patients alongside her own. He couldn’t imagine having an intern who needed to be watched like a hawk.

“How do I start doing that now?”

“You don’t need to turn into a drill sergeant overnight, you can be kind but firm. But he needs to do the procedures he’s afraid of, and he needs to learn to stay cool under pressure. And if he screws up, make sure he knows what he did and not to do it again.”

“I suppose he and I shouldn’t hang out anymore, right?”

“If you really want to be his friend, you have to put his career before all else.”

Elijah nodded, thinking it over. He glanced back at Edenbrook, and when he looked back, there was acceptance in his eyes.

“Thanks for helping me out, Matthew.”

“You got it, bud.”

Elijah smiled weakly; he was already planning a long talk with Dr Youen. Matthew tried not to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been walking past, or if Zaid had found them instead. He felt slightly sick inside.

At least he could keep his own patients safe, and he worked hard to avoid thinking about cancerous cells, underfunded hospitals, or near-fatal mistakes until he almost walked straight into someone in the hallway.

“Matthew?”

It was Rafael, smiling kindly as he steadied him.

“You alright?”

His smile was a welcome distraction from his racing thoughts. He just hoped he was there for a good reason.

“Sorry, just a lot on my mind. But I’d rather be talking to you.”

“Well, good, because there’s actually something I want to tell you.”

Matthew’s interest piqued as Rafael scratched the back of his neck, but before anything else, Danny came rushing over.

“Dr Valentine,” he gasped. “Sorry to interrupt…Ms Santana’s results just came through…I figured you’d wanna know ASAP…” He handed Matthew the chart before rushing down the hall to his next job.

Matthew had to read the chart several times to take it in. His hands shook and his stomach churned. It was happening yet again.

“Everything OK?”

Rafael’s hand was gentle on his elbow. He had never failed to cheer Matthew up, but he couldn’t think like that now.

“No. I’m so sorry, Raf, I need to find Kyra.”

“Sure. Hope she’s OK.”

Rafael looked anxious as Matthew marched down the hall. He didn’t let himself look back.

Kyra’s patient room was empty. Matthew cursed and tried the lab in case she was having another test, but she wasn’t there either. He checked the OR board, up and down the oncology department, going back to her room several times, growing increasingly irate until he found her behind her desk.

“Kyra, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he burst out.

“Hey, Matthew,” Kyra said cheerfully, without a care in the world. It could have been just another Sunday afternoon, except for the slightly raw edge to her voice. Matthew looked back at the chart and wondered how she could possibly be so calm.

“You were on the floor coughing up blood a few hours ago!”

“Got it covered,” Kyra said dismissively, indicating the box of tissues on her desk.

“Kyra…”

“Don’t stress, I’m fine. We did the scan and I had to get back to work. I don’t think we’ll be able to keep the clinic, unfortunately, but I’m pretty sure I can find a way to protect—”

“Kyra.” Matthew couldn’t stay calm anymore. “Your cancer has spread!”

“I thought it might have. God, I thought you came busting in here to tell me something important!”

“You need to take this seriously! This isn’t the time to joke around!”

Kyra finally looked at him properly, her smile fading away to be replaced with something more guarded.

“OK, Matthew, tell me what the scan showed.

Matthew placed Kyra’s chart in front of her. He could explain bad outcomes like a professional, but with Kyra it was much harder. His voice trembled a little.

“The carcinoma in your left lung has invaded your diaphragm, chest lining and heart lining.”

Kyra nodded thoughtfully. “That’s it then. This cancer’s going to kill me.”

The last sentence knocked around Matthew’s brain. Kyra was dying. He was useless.

“It’s not over yet, we’re doing everything we can—”

“Matthew, I only ever had a ten percent chance of beating this thing. I think you’ve saved me as much as you can.” She gave him a small smile, but her gratitude was overshadowed by her sad eyes. “Just let me save as much of the hospital as I can before I drop dead.”

There was too much finality in her words for Matthew to argue, and the pressure in his head was threatening to overwhelm him. He walked out of the office, shaking from head to foot. General noise of the hospital rang in his ears. He tried to take in a deep breath and think through his cases, but his breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t think of anything except Kyra in her office, struggling to breath. His fist clenched…and then he spotted an open supply closet about halfway down the hall.

Matthew ducked into it, slamming the door behind him. He leaned heavily against the wall. He closed his eyes as his breath came in short, ragged bursts. His fist hit the wall once, twice…and then he slammed his knuckles into the wall with all his might, crying out in pain. His knuckles split, forming beads of blood, and he’d left a dent in the wood panelling. His wrist throbbed from the shockwave.

The door quickly opened and shut, and for one wild second Matthew hoped it was Rafael…

“What the hell was that?”

Matthew gritted his teeth. Of course, Rafael had no reason to follow him into a store cupboard these days, but why did it have to be June? Wordlessly, he brandished his raw knuckles.

“Why in god’s name did you do that?” she hissed, and Matthew couldn’t quite stop his words.

“The clinic is probably closing because the goddamn hospital can’t catch a break, and my friend’s cancer has spread, and I can’t help her anymore, and—”

“Whoa, OK, you need to calm down,” June interrupted. “You’re a grown adult, you’ve got to stop throwing a tantrum in a closet. At work.”

“I don’t know what else I can do! I’ve been trying to keep myself together all day, but it’s all too much—"

“From where I stand, you’re currently on the clock and your job literally involves life and death. You need to snap out of it now…would it help if I slapped you?”

“No!”

He suddenly remembered making out with Jackie in a supply closet on their first day that somehow led to their friendship. After that, he had found solace in Rafael’s arms. With a hint of resentment, he regarded the apparently cold-blooded substitute who stood before him. June had a raised eyebrow, and looked completely unimpressed as she told him to get himself under control. He glared back at her as he took several long breaths, but he slowly started to feel like he could think clearly.

“That’s better,” June nodded. “But it wasn’t just your friend, or budget cuts that set you off. You’re a doctor: you can handle bad news. I know you, this is something else.”

Matthew had no inclination to mention his ex, or anything else about his personal life.

“I’ve just never felt this…helpless.”

“Edenbrook isn’t lost yet.”

“It’s starting to feel that way. Especially with Mass Kenmore undermining us at every turn.” He slouched against the wall. June was tapping her chin, looking thoughtful.

“I heard something from a little birdie I know at Mass Kenmore and it might let us turn the tables on them for stealing our patient.”

“And what would that solve?”

“It’d make you feel better for one thing.”

“Messing around with people won’t make me feel better.”

“It could help Edenbrook. A lot.”

“How?”

“Ed Farrugia, the Massachusetts senator, was admitted to Mass Kenmore yesterday with a mystery illness.”

Outside of the hospital, Matthew wasn’t overly interested in politics, but he knew about Senator Farrugia. There was already buzz that he was going to run for president in 2024. Younger than most politicians – somewhere in his early forties – he was always pictured with a charming smile to the masses, but most importantly he was very vocal in his support for social causes: education, public services…healthcare. Matthew had no idea he was ill.

“Tobias is treating him personally,” June beamed. “And I think if you’re looking to channel your feelings into something constructive, snagging a patient like Ed is perfect. It could pay serious dividends.”

“You’re talking about sneaking into our rival hospital and convincing a patient to transfer to us?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a senator on our side…but if you don’t think it’s worth it…”

“I didn’t say that.”

He couldn’t help picturing the senator making waves in DC as he ensured all hospitals were fully funded as they should be. And perhaps a thank you package to the hospital that saved his life…word of mouth spread quickly, who knew how many high-flying politicians might be knocking at Edenbrook’s door if it went well?

“Would you help me?” he asked. “If I went along with it?”

“I’m swamped with patients and can’t get away, but if there’s anything I can do, just say the word.” She suddenly smiled. “You could always check in with Ethan or Baz.”

Matthew couldn’t find Baz and was running out of time. He wasn’t surprised when Ethan shot him down.

“Out of the question! Hirata would do anything to get her own way. She’ll never play by the rules…”

“Neither does anyone else!”

“I won’t stoop to Carrick’s level, Matthew. Next time, we’ll beat him fair and square.”

“You’ve said yourself that life isn’t fair. And if we keep taking the high road, we’ll be out of a hospital!”

Ethan couldn’t argue with that, and grudgingly agreed to cover for Matthew at Edenbrook. He even drove him down there.

“You’re on your own from here on out,” he warned.

Matthew tried to act normal as he walked through the automatic doors into the entrance. An odd postmodern sculpture stood in the middle of the reception area, which would have looked perfectly fine in an art gallery but was completely out of place in a hospital. He was about to go in for a closer look when a security guard called him over, wanting to know why a stranger he had never seen before was in plain, medical scrubs with no id.

After ten minutes of convincing the security guard that he was a vet trying to visit his sick grandma, and that vets were real doctors too, Matthew was finally cleared, and he ran to look for a map. He found it…but it looked like another piece of modern art. All he knew was that the senator wouldn’t be on the paediatrics wards.

Matthew was starting to panic. He had enlisted his friends to cover his patients but he couldn’t leave them forever. Also his disguise was paper-thin and it was highly likely that Tobias would come round the corner any second. He felt like he was sweating. He was in way over his head.

“EXCUSE ME, ARE YOU LOST?”

Matthew jumped. An elderly patient was smiling kindly, despite the fact he had come right up close to yell down his ear.

“Er, no, I—”

“WHAT? SORRY, I BLEW OUT MY EARDRUM. DOC TOLD ME TO WAIT OUT HERE.”

Matthew held up his hands, trying to appear reassuring. The last thing he needed was a shouting patient to draw attention to him.

“Sir, please, if you just—”

“WHAT?”

“EXCUSE ME, SIR, I’LL HANDLE THIS.”

That was a different voice booming, but it was much more familiar. Matthew’s face fell when he spotted Zaid striding towards them. He floundered to come up with a reasonable excuse as Zaid took him by the arm and started leading him away. The elderly patient waved them on, cheerfully.

“Zaid, I can explain—”

“Not here!”

Zaid hauled Matthew into an empty patient room and closed the door, peering out of the window pane. Matthew turned to face his superior fearfully, but Zaid’s expression had completely changed.

“Ohmigod,” he gasped, dramatically. “My heart’s beating like a hummingbird on antihistamines.”

Zaid’s voice was lighter now. The penny dropped.

“Baz?! Wh-why are you dressed as your brother?”

Baz flashed Matthew a cheeky grin. He might have taken off his glasses, combed his hair flat, and replaced his t-shirt with a button-down and tie, but that spark in his eyes could never be replicated by Zaid.

“My sweet stormcloud of a brother is currently here every other week to collaborate on a study with Dr Mendoza. With his badge in hand, I can waltz into most areas of this hospital.” He winked. “June told me you might need a little help.”

Matthew suddenly laughed, giddy at the turn of events.

“Won’t Zaid throw a fit when he finds out what you’ve done?”

“Oh, absolutely. He hates it when I do this. But this is the third most important time that I can think of.”

“You have to tell me about this over a drink sometime.”

“Deal. But let’s find that senator first.”

Luckily, Baz already knew that the senator was on the VIP floor – the very fact there was a VIP floor made them both roll their eyes – and they walked briskly along the corridors, trying to look like they belonged. Matthew avoided looking too closely at the doctors, but they were mostly pre-occupied with patients and charts. Baz almost broke character by saying ‘howdy’ before clearing his throat and turning it into a gruff ‘good afternoon’.

“Yeah, she’s gone,” Matthew smirked.

They finally glimpsed the senator through a window as they walked down the corridor. It was odd seeing the face from TV in real life: more rugged and tired than Matthew thought. He watched the senator scratch at his beard as he talked between his aide and the other doctor in the room, who was none other than…

“Crap,” Matthew muttered, as they walked past the room. “Carrick will recognise me in a hot second.”

“So we need to get him far, far away,” Baz muttered. “How?”

Matthew looked back at Baz…and a few minutes later, Baz was wearing Zaid’s scowl and marching into the senator’s room. Matthew hung about, looking away from the room whilst staying close enough to hear.

“Carrick. Dr Rickman needs to see you down in the pit.”

“I haven’t received any pages from her.”

“No, you haven’t received the pages she’s been sending which is why she sent me. Maybe check the batteries, hmm?”

Baz left the room and marched down the corridor. Tobias left a few minutes later, muttering to himself, not even glancing in Matthew’s direction. Matthew wasted no time darting into the senator’s room.

“Ah, yet another doctor,” the senator said, dryly. “Maybe you’ll have my test results.”

The senator’s aide glared at Matthew, who was now realising that he had spent so much time working out how to get in to Mass Kenmore that he hadn’t given one thought as to how he would convince the senator to switch. He considered buttering him up, but decided being straightforward was the best way to go.

“Senator, my name is Matthew Valentine, and I’m not your doctor. I don’t even work here. I’m a resident at Edenbrook Hospital.”

“I beg your pardon?” The senator looked dumbfounded, and the aide was shaking his head.

“I’m calling security.” There was an unpleasant whining quality to his voice, and he continued to glare at Matthew as he reached for his phone.

“Please hear me out, Senator, I’m here to pitch our services to you,” Matthew said, quickly, hoping he didn’t sound as panicked as he felt. He didn’t relish the idea of explaining to Ethan that his brilliant plan had gotten him arrested.

“Travis,” the senator commanded, his lips twitching. “Put down the phone. I’m officially intrigued.”

The aide – Travis – put down the phone without relaxing his posture. Matthew allowed a brief smile of relief before launching into an explanation of how Edenbrook (which ran a community clinic) aligned much more closely with Senator Farrugia’s political values than Mass Kenmore (no community clinic but a literal VIP floor). He waxed on about how the clinic helped the community and how they were concerned about the budget cuts. People loved a politician who genuinely cared about them. It was a mutually beneficial situation.

The senator chuckled a little.

“Well, it’s important for me to walk the walk, but my case is stumping every doctor I meet.”

“Then you’re definitely in the wrong place. Edenbrook’s prestige means we attract the best doctors in the region.”

“Solid pitch,” the senator said, stroking his beard. “In fact…go back to Edenbrook and prepare me a room, Doctor. I’ll be along as soon as I can get myself discharged.”

“But…” Travis started to say, until Matthew quickly stepped in with a hearty thank you.

Matthew turned back to the door, scanning the corridor for Tobias, when the ping of a mobile phone caught his attention. He glanced automatically at the phone lying on the arm of the chair – the lockscreen showed a selfie of Tobias at the bar with a group of doctors behind him – and the latest text read ‘plus I’ve got something special to show you…’

Matthew’s stomach sank when he saw the text was from June.

He couldn’t linger in the doorway, but his brain buzzed as he stepped into the corridor. Why was June texting Tobias? Were they in cahoots?

Footsteps sounded behind him and he turned, expecting to see Baz.

“Oh!”

He stood face-to-face with Aurora, having not seen her since she had told him off yesterday evening. He didn’t know what to say to her now and struggled to read her expression.

“Dare I ask what you’re doing here?” Aurora asked, coldly.

“I…uh…” Matthew spluttered uselessly. Aurora rolled her eyes.

“Just come find me when you’re ready to go back to normal,” she sighed. She walked away…but not before Matthew saw her sad expression. He bit his lip, wondering if he should go after her, but then Baz joined up with him for real.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“He’s discharging himself  and will be coming straight over to Edenbrook. Let’s get out of here before someone recognises us.”

The two of them kept a brisk pace to the elevator. Matthew kept half a step behind Baz, eyes to the floor, keeping a low profile. No one was waiting for the elevator when they stopped on the ground floor and they quickened their pace as the front doors came into view. They were almost free…

“Valentine? What’s he doing with you, Zaid?” Tobias had appeared out of nowhere.

Baz pushed Matthew towards the doors as he replied: “Classing up your tacky hospital, that’s what!”

Matthew spluttered, not looking back to see Tobias’s perplexed expression, as he stumbled out the doors and kept walking. Baz caught up and dropped an arm over his shoulder, and they both started laughing.

“He has no idea, does he?”

“No clue. Come on, my car’s a block away.”

****

A couple of hours later, Matthew was finishing up paperwork in the diagnostic office. It was dark outside, a cup of coffee stood at his elbow. The day had lasted forever, especially in the last few hours when the adrenaline rush of the Kenmore heist had worn off. He hadn’t done anything bad, had he? He had offered Edenbrook’s services to the senator, and the senator had made the decision. No different to what Tobias had done with Stephanie, right?

“Ed Farrugia’s been assigned to the team. I’m impressed,” June announced as she swung through the door. Matthew didn’t say anything, remembering the texts.

“Hellooo, Dr Valentine? I just told you I’m impressed. I’m never impressed.” She placed her bag on the table, cheerfully. Matthew frowned.

“So…how well do you know Tobias?”

“Not that well…unless you mean in the biblical sense.”

“…You’re sleeping together?”

“Here and there.” June shrugged. “It’s no big deal, just because I’m screwing him doesn’t mean I don’t want to screw with him. I can keep things separate, Matthew. It’s just a way to blow off steam, it doesn’t mean anything. Redeeming qualities aside, Tobias is our main obstacle for survival and I’m looking out for number one.”

Matthew wasn’t sure. He’d been so impressed and a little intimidated by June when he first joined the team. She was cool and confident and he had been excited to work with her. That was until Stephanie Hill’s case  when he realised she’d been reading his employee file and had been manipulating him to like her. Matthew wondered if he would ever be on a trustworthy team.

“Go home, Matthew,” June said, powering up the whiteboard. “You’ve had a long day.”

Matthew just nodded. He packed up his files and left June to work through her case.

He yawned as he headed to the locker room, but his pager diverted his attention, and he couldn’t not answer it: Bryce and Kyra wanted to see him.

Kyra was back in her patient bed, wearing a patient gown. Bryce was perched on the side of the bed, squeezing her hand. They both smiled when he came in.

“Kyra has something she wants to tell you,” Bryce said, and Kyra’s smile became sheepish.

“I, uh…look, I’m sorry I was such a jerk earlier.”

“No, Kyra, you weren’t a jerk,” Matthew said in a rush. “You can take all your anger out on me if it means you’ll keep fighting this thing.”

“Well, I might actually have one more shot at fighting, thanks to this glorious hunk of a man here.” Kyra mock-punched Bryce’s arm and he chuckled.

“Save your praise for after the surgery.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t. Keep going.”

The two of them chuckled. The gentle camaraderie was the best thing Matthew had seen all day.

“What surgery are you talking about, Bryce?”

“An extrapleural pneumonectomy,” Bryce said. “I’ve looked it up. We take out part of Kyra’s lung and diaphragm, and the parietal pleura and the pericardium on the left side. Then we replace the lining of her chest and heart with gore-tex.”

“Damn,” Matthew said, softly. “That sounds…extensive.”

“It is. It’s radical and risky and if it works, it’ll hurt like actual hell. And if it doesn’t…”

“I’ll die,” Kyra said, gently. “But, that’s an unavoidable possibility. And at least we’ll know we really tried everything.”

“The main cancer is spreading so fast that we need to go big or go home,” Bryce said. “And I’ll be damned if I give up on a friend.”

Matthew could have hugged him. Kyra’s lip quivered as she looked between the two of them, not quite hiding her fear behind her courage. Matthew took hold of her other hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“If Bryce says it’s a good idea, I believe him,” he said, determinedly. “You couldn’t have a better surgeon on your side.”

Bryce’s eyes lit up at that.

“Thanks Matthew.”

“You know,” Kyra said, sleepily. “I remember when you two were clueless little interns fighting over who got to treat me…”

“Clueless?” Matthew spluttered.

“Little?” Bryce gasped, positively scandalised.

“…But I’m glad to have you both on my side now.”

“Always, Kyra.”

Movement at the window made Matthew look up. He was surprised to see Rafael hovering awkwardly, and excused himself.

“Hey,” Rafael nodded, when Matthew closed the door to the room. “Is Kyra gonna be OK?”

“Hard to say.” Matthew tugged at his hair, wearily. “She’s about to go through an extremely dangerous surgery.”

“Damn,” Rafael winced. He glanced back through the window where Kyra waved at him, and he returned it with a kind smile. Matthew remembered when it seemed like Rafael’s smile was all he needed to get by. It had felt that way this morning, when he had accidentally ran into him. Their conversation had been interrupted…

“Raf, what’s going on? What did you want to tell me earlier?”

“I…” Rafael looked at him with wide eyes. “Forget it, it’s not important. Not now, when you’ve got—”

“Raf.”

Rafael sighed in defeat. He turned to face Matthew fully.

“I’m leaving town.”

A/N: 2024 felt like a long time away when this chapter aired... Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

[dreamwritersworld]

Disconnected… (sully family x reader)

this was inspired by 2 requests sent in so please enjoy! I didn’t link the two requests just cause I didn’t want to spoil it before you read so thank you! 💞

Y/n Sully. I was a happier child…until that light was pulled away and burnt out.

*five year old Y/n*

There was one too many moment where Jake had compared her to her older siblings…

Jake had pulled Y/n by her ear to listen to his words clearly about how she had to heal and be as good as Kiri..

Y/n walked into a separate room clearly in distress while Kiri was calmly sitting down beading a bracelet but she could sense something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“…father keeps saying that I have to be like you but I’m not you.”

Y/n didn’t even give Kiri a chance to talk she knew that whatever she said wouldn’t make her feel better…not even a few moments after both sisters heard their mother talking to another Navi and that just made Y/n more upset.

“Kiri is the most beautiful child ever! We were given her so sudden and I always say to her, Eywa gave me you.”

Whats the softest way to say…you took away my passion…my happiness…what’s the kindest way to say?..you took away my spark.

-*

I had so much potential, had I just been brought up differently given the correct corrections and encouragement I would’ve been something…something meaningful.

*6 year old Y/n*

“Y/n! Hold the knife correctly! Look at the way your brother is holding it! Why can’t you just be smart? Think!”

Y/n was too young to even start early training but…he made her anyways, said “with her like that, she needs at least two years of early training! She needs to think smarter.”

The little girl was buried deep into training when all she wanted to do was continue making friendship bracelets for people…she was such a sweet little girl.

Every time Jake yelled, stood by, or ever so slightly glanced at her she felt slightly scared…it always felt like he didn’t care. Truth was Jake was reckless with her feelings..he didn’t care about how the outcome of his actions would reflect on the young child.

-*

Now I just sit in the comforting silence of the forest.

*8 year old Y/n*

There was one day when I was genuinely scared…terrified of the man yelling in my face..grabbing me, all because I failed at aiming correctly that day..but it was only because he made me stay up the entire night before practicing.

“Why can’t you just think kid?!”

He was pushing for words to come out as tears build up in my eyes.

“You were awful today!”

My own father could sleep peacefully in the fact that he was destroying me. It made him mad, my silence spoke louder than words..anger he wanted to come out of me. All of the sudden a full hand slapped my cheek.

My heart missed multiple beats when I realized what had just happened. That’s the moment I went numb to his actions, I quickly got up..wiped away my tears and went off to train without him. If someone were to ever hit me the way he did that day, I wanted to be ready.

-*

I was dragged through the mud, what’s more to be scared of..? I don’t need them or anyone.

I don’t speak much to anyone…they don’t try speaking to me either so I guess in a way I settled.

*9 year old Y/n*

Jake’s treatment towards Y/n was like whiplash. One second he’d give her slight hope it was ok and then the next second he’d crumble her to pieces.

He put Kiri and Y/n to healing and she was doing really well, until a hard week hit her.

“Y/n. You went from first…to worst in one whole practice! You need to do better, when will you get it?”

All siblings watched as Y/n curled herself in, hiding her head once he left.

They were sad to say they noticed how as the years went by Y/n no longer talked to them…to anyone. Yet all siblings turned a blind eye..maybe it was temporary?

-*

It doesn’t mean that i stay by myself all alone and do nothing, no absolutely not I enjoy adventure, hanging onto life by a thread…

*10 year old Y/n*

I actually used to have a good friend I knew for a short amount of time but sadly…she died. She didn’t know a thing about survival but it was because her father refused to teach her. So I taught her, but i wish I did it sooner, maybe if I did she would’ve lived…

It happened just moments after I taught her how to shoot a gun, she found hidden away.

“You want to see what i found?…will you show me how to use it?”

I was conflicted and confused because i had only learned briefly just once

“Ok…but it is not a toy.”

“I know!”

She pointed the gun up to a random tree turning to me asking what she would do.

“The most important thing is when you go to shoot, take a breathe before you hit the trigger.”

Tílí took this hilarious big breathe, exaggerating it.

“What should I shoot?”

Tílí was so…inexperienced, so much that That she didn’t even know you couldn’t wave around the gun. So I crouched and panicked the moment she aimed it at me unknowingly.

“Don’t do that!”

“I-I’m so sorry i- im sorry!”

Tílí immediately put the gun away but i didn’t even look…i looked at the forest searching for where the walking sounds came from.

“…Tílí..let’s go now.”

I yanked onto her hand and ran, hiding in an old lab, as we ran i could hear the man’s voice,

“Come out! Where ever you are!”

..we weren’t allowed to be in that part of the forest but I followed because she said she wanted to show me the gun.

We both sat down listening to the man whistling…this outsider must’ve been left behind when they were supposed to leave pandora, or perhaps this was the start of them coming back. Adrenaline raced through me that day…I was just a kid.

“I need you to listen to me. we have to go now…are you listening?”

Tílí just sat there, staring at the floor, and scared to move. When I reached out for her again she started talking louder.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Daddy, I’m scared!”

It seemed as though she was stuck in time…like she believed her father would come right that moment, he made her so dependent..so scared.

“Snap out of it, Tílí!..please!”

My brain fogged up believing I wouldn’t be able to save her, I began to get scared. My head turned to the whistling getting closer and then i did what I believed was best..

“Move!”

Tílí felt my hand slap her across the face..and then she rushed up, I got her out first by holding her up to reach the skylight on the roof and then pulled myself up..as soon as we jumped off we ran but the man didn’t fail to notice us.

I ran with her but when we passed she had fallen and so did the gun but…the man shot her in the arm

“Get up Tílí! You have to trust me, I got you!”

Tílí screamed in pain as I yanked her up, catching the gun, and ran. The man was taking his time in catching us..he knew I wouldn’t want leave her…

She had no chance though, her speed was slower but I had to drag her, it left me no time to make turns so the man wouldn’t have a direct area to shoot. I didn’t even have time to hide us so I could kill him then..He had shot her in the chest.

“No don’t- Y/n! Daddy!!”

“No! Tílí!”

I instantly turned back and hid shooting the man from getting closer…my body went tense as I walked closer to Tíli, her body was shaking and hyperventilating.

“No, please Tílí! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Your my best friend…I’m sorry.”

I stayed in the forest crying, left with her body.

-*

That trauma didn’t go unnoticed. Mo’at could see that something was wrong with Y/n. It terrified her to see her grandchild’s downfall, she knew that Y/n would one day turn her back on her father for training and giving her pain so many years. Y/n wouldn’t let anyone even touch or stand by her…Mo’at wasn’t even an exception, no matter how much she wanted to heal those little wounds on her grandchild’s rough fingers and knees from training. She could see the pain Y/n was working through, the back pain from constantly doing tricks in training…suppose it was the reason Y/n was the best but it doesn’t mean it’s ok.

Y/n had been sitting on the floor, making medicine while Mo’at observed her…Neytiri walked in the room with medicine Kiri made from home.

“Kiri made some medicine for healing, mother.”

Mo’at hushed Neytiri and pulled her to the side, still keeping an eye on Y/n.

“We must talk..”

“About?”

“Y/n-“

“Oh mother please, no need to worry about that child she-she’s fine. She remains happy at home as well.”

“Really? If that were true, that child would feel safe enough to make medicine from home.”

“Mother. You cannot possibly be insinuating that-“

“Shh. It’s just Y/n, there’s something cold behind her eyes…”

Mo’at walked away leaving Neytiri wondering…she too watched Y/n while she unpacked the medicine Kiri was making from home…

After helping grandmother I had stayed out a little but I only came back late five minutes after eclipse and brought back food that I hunted for. I could feel him and his stares..how he was so fixated on me and what i was doing now that he wasn’t playing ‘olo’ekytan’.

“You staying out late again?! I already told you, your forbidden from staying out! You think bringing food back home will make it better?!”

I couldn’t listen. My hand automatically dropped the food off by my mother and I immediately walked back out the home entering the forest, too annoyed to deal with him…he didn’t stop though.

My feet walked faster, heart began beating louder and my eyes just kept looking forward, not turning back.

“You come back here right now. I mean it Y/n stop!”

I couldn’t..for the first time in a long time..i just wanted to stop, to look him in the eye.

“I’m gonna tell you right now, You’re-“

Sometimes my mind just fogs up and forgets my morals…just like him. I turned right around, banging my hand into a tree just to push him to listen.

“Stop! I’ll walk home sir just- stop.”

He continued mumbling words, yanking me by the ear, i allowed it…im not at my break point just yet. As we entered the home he threw me onto my hammock and i just accepted it, staring at the sky…the other thing about numbness is that it kinda collapses time…suddenly i find my whole days blending together creating this endless and suffocating loop, training is all I do…

“Dinners ready!”

My transit stopped and i got up slowly, sitting in my little corner. There was never space at our dinner area for me..so I just ate alone. Then i did my chores as normal, slowly walked up to my bed sighing at the fact that i didn’t have the warmth everyone else did. Mother seemingly forgot to request a new blanket for me and I didn’t make enough time to craft items to trade something in for it..so I’ll settle on the rough blanket with seeking holes.

The next day I was told to do hunting with Neteyam in the forest…we didn’t talk much, which made it easier for us to hear outside noises..Then a man came but wasn't normal navi, he was an avatar and he held a gun, seemingly scare almost like he got lost.

"Shoot 'em"

Neteyam couldn't pull the trigger, but I didn't have the patience and i shot the man in the leg...then the hip.

I walked slowly to him.

Neteyam slightly tugged on me to just walk away and not interfere...but i just couldn't…something was wrong.

"Cmon let's go."

“Shut up Neteyam.”

He was annoyed but he just didn’t understand what the situation was so I kicked the man repeatedly until he was begging me..and when he did I asked some questions.

“Who are you with? You are not normal Navi.”

Then he spitted in my face mumbling about him swearing and being loyal, I shot him in the head with my arrow.

“Idiot.”

We walked away in silence but i can tell In his face what i had just done bothered him..he’ll get over it though right? He’s supposed to be the strongest warrior. The noises weren’t done..we could hear our siblings voices as we walked away. Neteyam called for our parents but i couldn’t stay put like he did.

Neteyam was behind a tree ready to shoot an arrow but he hadn’t realized a soldier approaching so I jumped down from the branch stabbing repeatedly into the man’s neck quick to make it silent..i hid once again when I saw a soldier head our way..he hadn’t noticed the body, just grabbed Neteyam, snapping his bow into half.

I began killing all 3 soldiers around hidden in the trees pointing guns at my siblings who were on their knees.

My eyes landed on the two fallen guns and i shot 6 while they blindly shot in a panic…i didn’t see anyone else, my siblings had ran into my parents arms. I was covered in blood..fixated on two missing soldiers…

Quaritch watched from a far, he could see Y/n held zero mercy…she was the one who shot their soldier who got lost in the forest. If she was so cold…he’d be able to get to her, get through her head.

He made sure the soldier beside him stood up first, aiming a gun at Y/n and then he shot him…setting up a scene of him “protecting her”.

Y/n held her gun to him…but for a minute she seemed in awe, she was stuck in time..she felt like she knew who this man was, somehow and in some way she heard stories about him when she was listening to her parents conversations…as did he. The reason he knew about Y/n was because before they were sent back to the forest, they discussed the little information they knew about the sully family, Y/n sully being one of them. In all honesty he hoped he’d walk into her, she was a kid who he believed could easily be ended or manipulated, because Jake never loved her, no one did. Hints why back at the fort they referred to her as the ‘the child with no love’.

If he got her on his side, he’d be unstoppable and be able to kill her father with zero hesitation. He knew he needed her trust first so he dropped his gun, left himself defenseless.

“I won’t kill you kid. Those soldiers that you just killed, well I wish it was different I do but they were weak of will and character.”

Y/n was patient this time…this man wanted to actually listen and talk to her but then again she didn’t care, he held let them hold a gun to innocent peoples heads.

“You know what I wish? I wish I had killed you too. I still can.”

“Yet you haven’t, you think any of those soldiers would have the balls to say something like that. There’s no way you could’ve lasted this long by yourself, otherwise.”

He was wrong because Y/n was brutal when she had to be. But Quaritich seems to take the brutal mindset Y/n had to the furthest extreme. However what Quaritch does goes far beyond being brutal he was just ruthless ..And no one who is ruthless deserves to live. Y/n still let the man go on..trying to pick her poison.

“We’re more alike than you think. In fact I think you realize it…but you’re not comfortable with it yet.”

That’s where Y/n ended it she shot him in the leg, aimed right by his lungs…and then her bullets ran out. Jake was watching from afar…he saw the entire conversation…on his way back he saw the bodies on the floor with multiple stab wounds, and he watched how she walked up to him with a knife. Then..he was spotted by Quaritch.

“Jake-“

“Y/n! I’ll handle him. You don’t need to do that.”

Quaritch chucked at the oblivious father.

“That girl’s already seen more than you can imagine.”

Y/n turned to her father, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere. That’s not your decision.”

“Atta girl, she ain’t afraid to look me in the eye like you Jake. You know that feeling you got right now? That's what makes you stronger than the rest of them kid….”

Y/n knew his words were true..but she was getting annoyed at the man who was repeatedly talking..letting all her thoughts out to her father..so she stabbed him in the neck, Repeatedly. Jake watched in horror, it was then that he realized he stabbed her in the back repeatedly as well…he made her a killing machine. She disconnected with the world more than usual and she didn’t even feel affected by it.

Everything felt slow..metal from the knife clinging with the soiled floor..blood covering her body. Y/n looked at her father, she wanted him to see her and the gore she created.

“this is what you’ve made me become.”

!💓!

Fun facts!

Kiri was making friendship bracelets at the age Y/n wasn’t allowed to!

Tílí was a reflection of what Y/n would’ve been if she hadn’t grown up quicker.

I didn’t show much of happier Y/n because her memories would be very faded from that time..she started to grow faster at age 5.

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir r @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul l @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @mxn14 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @onetwo123three @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @eskamybeloved @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays @papichulo120627 @tsamiaxo @wwwellacom @dotheyevenknowmars @midgetpottermills @he110hon @kodzukenwhore @minkyungseokie

[lovecanyon]

Dad!harry!!!

INSTAGRAM BLURB

dad!harry x y/n

MASTERLIST | PATREON

-

liked by harryfan5, harryfan7 and 403,819 others

harryflorals HARRY PICKING UP Y/N FROM THE GYM YESTERDAY IN LA!

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harryfan9 i am crying

harryfan4 Y/N CONSTANTLY STAYS WINNING

harryfan10 imagine your fiancé harry styles picking you up from the gym 😭

harryfan8 a literal dream

harryfan6 MOM AND DAD

harryfan11 i’m hanging on by a thread 🚬 🚬

harryfan3 oh em gee

harryfan13 jealousy is consuming me right now

harryfan15 the way harry most likely was on the phone with y/n…

harryfan17 he was probably telling her that he was there to pick her up 🫠

harryfan12 SHE WAS WEARING HIS SHIRT TOO

harryfan14 i love beau and inez’s parents

harryfan16 his smile 🧎‍♀️

harryfan18 future mrs. styles

harryfan20 y/n always puts a smile on harry’s face

harryfan22 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

liked by harryfan19, harryfan21 and 278,165 others

dailyhs Harry on stage tonight in LA for night 12!

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harryfan26 I WANT HIM

harryfan29 he’s such a dilf 😫

harryfan23 when you remember harry goes home to his fiancé and children…

harryfan27 you gotta love a family man

harryfan30 harry has me in agony

harryfan24 jumping off a cliff

harryfan28 he looks more like a dad everyday

harryfan25 AND i’m dying again

harryfan31 harry is the literal definition of hot

harryfan33 i seriously will never get over him 😭

harryfan35 tears.

harryfan37 he always seems much happier when y/n is at the shows

harryfan32 harry really is in love with her

harryfan39 @yourinstagram i want your man

harryfan34 he’s so perfect 🧎‍♀️

liked by harryfan40, harryfan45 and 330,916 others

ynharryupdates Y/N AT HARRY’S SHOW TONIGHT! via jefezoff

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harryfan42 she’s so cute 😭

harryfan49 I LOVE HER

harryfan41 y/n is so supportive of harry…i’m sobbing

harryfan46 jeff posting this on his ig story was the best thing ever

harryfan43 y/n + jeffrey = best duo to ever live

harryfan48 MOTHER OF LOVE ON TOUR

harryfan50 i love the way y/n’s always in the pit 😌

harryfan44 a moment to remember

harryfan47 harry’s fiancé and manager being in the pit with fans is so iconic

harryfan51 i love y/n deeply

harryfan53 SOMEONE PLEASE RUN ME OVER

harryfan56 why is this so cute

harryfan57 you can genuinely tell y/n loves harry so much 🫠

harryfan52 she’s the best i swear

harryfan54 harry’s number one fan is also his future wife

harryfan58 i can just tell she’s so fun

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stylesupdates Y/N in Los Angeles this morning buying balloons for Harry since he got nominated for seven Grammy awards!

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harryfan61 she loves him so much omg

harryfan64 Y/N GOT HARRY ALL THOSE GRAMMYS IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!

harryfan67 without her we wouldn’t have gotten harry’s house 🚬 🚬

hrryfan63 she probably surprised him too…

harryfan65 and i’m crying again

harryfan68 y/n is the best fiancé and mother, harry is so lucky to have her

harryfan60 THIS IS SO CUTE

harryfan62 she also had a seven balloon too 😭

harryfan69 sweetest thing ever

harryfan66 y/n’s existence gave us 7 grammy nominations 🙏

harryfan70 I WANT HER LIFE

harryfan78 the balloons probably made harry so happy

harryfan72 i loved her so much

harryfan74 you just know y/n, harry and their children celebrated the nominations 🫠

harryfan76 y/n really is so supportive

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yourinstagram at harry’s house!

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harryfan71 SUPPORTIVE FIANCÉ SUPPORTIVE FIANCÉ SUPPORTIVE FIANCÉ

harryfan73 y/n is so cute 😫

harrystyles I love my girl.

yourinstagram and your girl loves you! 🤍

harryfan75 SHE LITERALLY HAS HIM WRAPPED AROUND HER FINGER

harryfan79 i seriously will never get over harry and y/n

brittany_broski i had such an amazing time with you!

harryfan77 how does it feel to live my dream

pillowpersonpp my favorite muse in the world!!!!

harryfan80 ME NEXT 😭

annetwist Hope you had a fun time darling 🥰

harryfan83 MRS. STYLES I LOVE YOU

jefezoff love the no photo credits!!!

yourinstagram you deserve it j

harryfan86 LMAOO SHE’S SO FUNNY

alessandro_michele so beautiful y/n ❤️

harryfan88 PAUSE. DELETE. I CAN’T HANDLE THIS

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annetwist Decided to share a photo of me and a newborn Inez. One of my favorite memories ever. ❤️❤️

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harryfan89 OH MY GODDESS

harryfan82 inez was so tiny, i’m literally sobbing

harrystyles She loves her Nan very much.

annetwist I just love my grandchildren! 🥰

harryfan84 i can tell anne really wanted grandchildren

emmalouisecorrin such a sweet moment

harryfan87 this is honestly the cutest thing i’ve ever seen

tchalamet so precious 🤍

harryfan81 @yourinstagram thank you for gifting us dadrry

gemmastyles so so adorable!

harryfan90 i still can’t believe harry styles has children…

adele granddaughter and her nan ❤️

harryfan93 tears are steaming down my face

jefezoff baby inez and anne!!!

harryfan95 y/n having harry’s children was the best thing ever

kidharpoon styles family for the win

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[doodle-pops]

How About This

Maeglin x reader

Warnings: anxiousness, nervousness, touch-starved Maeglin, fluff, first-time hand holding

Word Count: 1.2k

Synopsis: You and Maeglin hold hands for the first time.

“How about we try this?” Your hands came up to wrap themselves around Maeglin's shoulders, embracing him in a hug. At the contact of your arms around him, he began to shudder and squirm, a sign to you that he was uncomfortable. Noticing this, you retracted your arms and dropped them to your sides. There was an unmistakable silence that fell between you both after your actions.

Glancing at him, you saw his head hanging as he was staring into his lap with his fingers busy fidgeting with a loose thread in his robes. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell you that he liked you hugging him, but the feeling was strange to the point that it was overwhelming. He was afraid to look you in your eye because he believed that he had hurt your feelings, something he promised that he’d never attempt. Choosing to focus on the grey thread that slipped out of the seam, he tugged it a few times to tear at it.

All this time you were sitting still, observing his skittish movements. How he’d blink every second as though he had something in his eyes, raise his hands to brush against the spot your arms touched or peek from under his lashes to watch for your reaction. It’s like he was waiting for you to scream or shout at him for rejecting your touch. Biting your lip, you rocked back and forth on your butt as you sat on the sprawled out blanket in the gardens. You weren’t sure why he rejected the offer to receive a hug, but you knew asking might be the only way to figure it out.

“Maeglin, is every alright? Did I do something wrong?” You leaned in closer as you spoke to ensure that he heard your words clearly.

At the sound of your question, his head snapped up to gape at you. He couldn’t believe that you’d think you’d done something wrong when it was the other way around. Exhaling loudly, he shook his head with eyes bulging out, quick to reassure you that the fault was not yours. Pulling his hands away from the thread and raising them to his chest to explain himself, instead, he was lost for words unsure of how to justify his actions.

“It’s – uh – not…uhh…” This was perhaps the first time in a while he felt as if he didn’t explain himself, you’d be furious at him. Wanting to get his words out was becoming a struggle as he couldn’t find the right thing to say, instead only stuttering.

“Hey, it’s alright, you don’t need to feel forced to explain. I just won’t hug you again unless you request it.” You rushed to raise your hands to wave towards him, attempting to calm his frightful state and reassure him.

“You’re not angry at m-my reaction? I rejected your hug.” He couldn’t understand how you could be so pleasant and understanding at his response when it was obviously insulting.

“No, no, I’m not angry at your reaction. I sort of realized you probably aren’t fond of hugging for reasons.” As you spoke this, another wave of silence settled between you both as he was processing your words and reactions. It wasn’t every day he met someone who wasn’t irritated or angered by his uneasy actions. He knew that the new world outside his old one was still challenging despite living among it for years. Meeting people that showed they understood his reasons for his actions was rare and you were one of them.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around how kind you were by taking your time to explain things to him ensuring that he took his time to grasp the information. You gave him words of encouragement and never rushed or forced him to be uncomfortable – always gauging his appearance to know if he was alright and quick to ask. The emotions that he’d feel at your gestures were always merriment. Pleased to learn that there was someone truly and genuinely happy to assist and be around him.

Growing up, the only affections he’d receive were from his mother and now that she was no longer around, there wasn’t anyone to cover him in those gestures. At the same time, while receiving affections from his mother occurred, it wasn’t very often that he’d grow up basking in affections constantly. When you entered the picture and chose to give him praises and compliments, he spent an entire night replaying your words because he couldn’t believe that they were real. Now, you were attempting to provide physical affections like hugs and hand-holding; being that starved of affections, he wasn’t sure how he’d take this well.

“I’m sorry, the…fault was mine. I’m not accustomed to things like this…” He lowered his head while nodding it in your direction to gesture to your affections. It was then a frown appeared on your face. You were saddened to learn that something as simple as a hug, he was unaccustomed to. Everyone at some point in their life deserved to be hugged.

“Oh, I’m sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable, then I won’t do it. Would you prefer to try something gentler?” You knew hugging was something personally done and could only be performed when he was accustomed to touching, so it would be better if you started off with the basics.

“…gentler? What do you mean by that?” The wind chose to blow through the gardens at this time, sending his black strands flying into the air, whipping around. His face was a lot clearer to look at since his hair was no longer obscuring. You were able to properly observe the intrigued look on his face as he peered at you.

“Like holding hands, maybe interlocking our pinkies if the former is too much…” You raised your hand to wiggle your pinkie finger for him to grasp what you were trying to explain.

You watched the way his eyes followed your finger dancing in the air before linking with the other pinkie to demonstrate for him. Seeing how his eyes softened slightly at the demonstration, he gave a tender nod before inching himself closer to you. Once he was within reach, you held your hand out and allowed for your pinkie to hang, waiting for him to interlock his with yours. Taking a silent breath, he counted to three and then lifted his hand to nudge his pinkie against yours before slowly interlocking the two.

A plethora of emotions bubbled inside him at the moment he held your finger. Opening and closing his mouth as he was thinking of words to describe his excitement, he chose to lift his head and smile at you. The smile reached his eyes as you saw them crinkled slightly around the edges. You knew he was genuinely happy, and this made you return his smile.

“Do you…do you like this?”

“Yes, I could get used to this.”

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