#if anyone needs me i will simply be passing away. he brought two of his sons along with him. i will not survive

[milkloafy]

WE FIGHT AND MAKE UP — ALHAITHAM

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you and alhaitham get into a heated argument and give each other the cold shoulder. at night, you sleep on the couch and alhaitham comes out to find you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, kaveh cameo ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 0.9k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: this little drabble has made me fall in love with alhaitham i am currently commissioning some selfship art as we speak i love this man pls enjoy if ur a fellow alhaitham lover :>

It wasn’t often you and Alhaitham truly fought. But the few times you did, it usually started with abnormally raised voices and ended in silent treatment that lasted late into the night.

At a certain point in time, the silent treatment would go on for so long, it became more like a battle of perseverance— Who would cave and speak to the other first?

You were stubborn, you had to admit, but Alhaitham could take it to a whole new level. Even when you tried to extend an olive branch, he would continue to keep to himself and draw out the silence between you.

You huffed as you wrapped a blanket around you. Kaveh had passed by your sorry state bundled up on the couch and wordlessly brought you a spare pillow and blanket. If there was anyone who understood Alhaitham’s stubbornness even more than you, it would have to be his roommate for years and former friend since the Akademiya, Kaveh. 

There was no explanation needed as Kaven patted you on the head before going back into his own room. 

Sighing, you laid down on the couch in the cold living room while Alhaitham was likely warm and cozy, snuggled up in bed without you. 

Dejected, you turned to your side and hugged the pillow Kaven gave. At this point, you were no longer even mad at Alhaitham. Sure, the two of you blew up on each other, but the heat simmered out and you were ready to make up and move on. 

It was too bad Alhaitham wasn’t, you thought to yourself, glaring at the cushion in front of you. 

You tossed and turned into the late of night, unable to get comfortable when your thoughts were focused on your boyfriend you were apparently still fighting with. Just as you were about to give up on sleep for the rest of the night, you heard a door creak open and the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall. 

Thinking it was only Kaveh again, you sat up and signed loudly, hugging your knees to your chest. 

“You’re still out here?”

Your spine straightened when you realized that voice was certainly not Kaveh. It was lower, deeper, much more familiar. Alhaitham.

Letting out an exhale, you shrugged without turning around to face him. “Where else would I go?”

Alhaitham sighed, walking around the sofa and taking a seat next to you, keeping a respectable distance away.

“You could go back to our bed,” he said quietly.

When you didn’t respond, he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You peered up at him with a look of reservation on your face.

“I’m sorry for letting you stay out here alone for so long,” he continued in a strained tone. 

You examined him, heart softening when you saw his tired and worn eyes, red skin at the edges. Although he hated showing it, you could easily see how much he was effected by this argument. 

“I’m really sorry. Won’t you come back to our room? I…miss you.”

Your resolve cracked after hearing those words. All you wanted for the past few hours was to make up. Now that he was the one holding up the peace flag, you toyed with the idea of making him grovel to make up for it. But a bigger part of you simply wanted to be in his arms again. 

“I miss you, too, Haith,” you said, moving closer to him. “I’m sorry for being so stubborn.”

Alhaitham gently took your hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “Perhaps we were both a little obstinate. But I love you too much to allow this stalemate to continue on.”

You nodded in agreement, burrowing your head into the crook of his neck. Breathing in deeply, you took in his familiar scent and let it warm your heart. 

“I hate the silent treatment,” you proclaimed, sniffling haughtily. “Let’s never do it again. I’m sorry for being a meanie.”

Alhaitham chuckled before planting a kiss on your forehead. “I was mean, too. I’m sorry for that. And you are forgiven.” He leaned his chin against the top of your head, not applying his full weight. “Now, let’s go to bed?”

“Yes, please.” You stood up slowly beside him. “I’m so tired. I can’t believe we were fighting for this loong over the existence of aliens!” 

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Our debates can get heated at times. But I enjoy that about us. Always being agreeable is too…mundane.” 

“I second that. But I just still can’t believe you don’t think aliens are real! In a world where gods and dragons exist… Aliens of all things are too farfetched?”

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone.

You giggled, ruffling the top of his head with an exaggerated pat. “Okay, okay. Tonight, we make peace. I get it.”

“Mhm.” Alhaitham began walking to your room, holding your hand as you followed behind him. “Tonight, we make up. Tomorrow, we prepare our arguments and have a more structured debated.”

“Kaven can moderate the discussion,” you offered.

Alhaitham nodded. “I am agreeable to those terms. For now, please get in bed with me.”

You grinned at his pleas, closing the door behind you as you tackled him into a giant hug. “How about you kiss me first?”

Alhaitham smiled as he obliged, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. “As you wish, my love.”

[glowstick-cafe]

Nostalgia gets the Best of Us

Elijah "Smoke" Moore, Elias "Stack" Moore x Black!Female!Reader

⚠️MDNI⚠️//Content: smut, mentions of religion in passing, cunnilingus, PiV

Word count:2,197

"You've been gone since 2023” God forbid I show support for my people in their time of need 😒

Ao3 link ver.

After a day of hard work a lady often just wants to have fun and dance the night away, is that so much to ask for?

Word quickly spread through Mississippi overnight of a new club that was owned by a pair of infamous twins—it couldn't be. Club Juke, your friends said the name was, how cute.

As you walked up to the rustic looking building there was a long line of people waiting to be let in, music from the inside of the club reverberated through your ears just begging you to join in on the fun.

You were going to walk right in without a care until the unsure call of your name made you turn your head.

The familiar voice brought a smile to your lips, “Damn girl! Where you been? Haven't seen yer face since you moved away for that fancy job.” Spoke Cornbread. Honestly, you were delighted to see an old familiar face.

“Oh please, you never catch me when I visit.” You huffed in a playful frustration, but before you could carry on your conversation the line of people behind you hurled bouts if complaints your way, cutting the reunion with your old friends short. Cornbread clicked his tongue and sent you on in.

“The twins are in for a treat when they see you.” The heavy-set man chuckled to himself and shook his head as you kept pushing further into the club, unaware of the band of old faces you would be seeing.

You managed to move through the crowd in sync with the music, body swaying in tandem with the tune.

Spotting your friends in the distance, a smile made its way to your face—happy to finally be surrounded by the people you actually came here to party with; but as luck would have it, the wind was suddenly knocked out of you when a man who was dancing crashed his back into you.

Before you could fall over, a man in a blue suit came to your aid, his hand placement seemed awfully friendly but you were too disoriented to comment on it; only focusing on how harshly he berated the man for simply having two left feet.

“If you don't watch where you steppin’ on the young lady then I think we're gonna have a problem.” He threatened. The poor man nodded his head to show his understanding of the situation and booked it to the other side of the room as fast as the booming crowd allowed.

“Now, enjoy yourself lil’ lady.” He laughed, now removing his arm from your waist only to move them to your shoulders.

“Who do you think yer’ callin’-” You were about to give a smart response, but held your tongue when you finally made eye contact with your hero.

A flash of recognition glazed over his eyes, while a look of mortification graced yours. You’re sure he could feel the goosebumps on your skin when your name left his mouth.

“Smoke…”

Seeing the man in front of you could only mean that his other half couldn't be far away, which wouldn’t bode well for you if they both got their hands on you.

Smoke said your name again, this time it made you flinch and all the childhood memories of puppy love and broken promises came baring its claws at you.

Oh the Smoke-Stack twins, if people were to pick out the type of crowd the twins usually tend to draw in, you probably wouldn’t be their go-to guess—but some would say you were in the right place at the right time, or that you were just really unlucky; but something that couldn't be debated among anyone back then was that those boys cherished you.

-

A pastor's daughter and regular church goer, that's what all the grown folks would refer to you as, never truly by your name.

Growing up, your father and everyone who knew him spoke ill of the pair of twins who would often be finding themselves in trouble.

Don't get mixed up in company like that…

You told yourself, but unfortunately that prayer seemed to have fallen on deaf ears seeing as how the trouble found you instead. The twins seemed to have been drawn in by all the alarm bells that were meant to actually keep them away.

Once the boys got their hand on you, the three of you made for an interesting group, if anything, the adults thought that maybe you were just the right influence they needed to steer them on the right track—Unfortunately for them, this ended up having the opposite effect.

To be fair, you were never rude to those who showed you respect, but the twins’ ‘Don't take shit from anyone’ attitude rubbed off on you hard.

Stack seemed more receptive to your usual kind nature and would often let you have your way with him, even letting their dreams of moving to Chicago slip out, but the other brother was the one who forced you to develop a sharp tongue; Smoke's jabs often bordered on scathing to just actual bullying.

When you finally matched his energy the boy was at a loss for words, just gave a click of the tongue and a, “Whatever man…” Smoke wouldn’t admit it but he was a little proud of you for a split second, just minus Stacks’ frame doubled over in laughter.

Tender moments were few and far between when is came to them, but in the off chance they let you near their hair; a matching set of conrows would send you over the moon. It was your idea of bonding and also one of the rare moments where Smoke never had anything to comment on.

You’d like to think you both found common-ground on those days.

So why were you so mad to see him after all these years?

There weren't any signs of a falling out brewing. Just an abrupt departure that left you torn; everyone around you said ‘It's for the best.’ or that you should ‘Let it go…’ but it took years to get over being abandoned like that.

No letter.

No goodbye

Nothing…

-

You were honestly surprised that you remembered their faces after all these years.

Blinking those memories away, your mortified expression turned into anger. “You've gotta be kiddin’ me, you n’ your brother run off to Chicago doin’ God knows what, then you two turn back up with a place like this after the state you both left me in?!”

“So you're not happy to see us?” Stack questioned, inserting himself into the conversation.

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, these men haven't changed, they're still the same smug little boys who left you in the dust for Chicago.

“Look now, we know how we left things wasn't…ideal but—we all grown up now.” Stack spoke, stationed himself behind you while his hand found its way to your waist. “We can handle this like adults.” His words echoed through the covers of your mind.

There was no denying the twins were attractive physically and their personalities had their own appeal to it, you would know, you grew up with them.

You'd be stupid to deny that you hadn’t thought about them in a romantic sense, but you were a grown woman now; you didn't have to unpack resurfacing emotions that you may have had toward your childhood friends.

Your eyes looked up to Smoke to see how he was taking the situation. His hands seemed casually nestled in his pockets while his pupils searched for an answer in yours, he motions a questioning head tilt as if to say, ‘Well?’

The music and surroundings seemed to slow as you looked around. “Fine…” You agreed, you hoped that you hadn’t sounded too eager, but you don't miss the subtle smile on Smoke's lips as you were being directed into what you were sure was a closet.

The twins sat you on a small table in the oddly spacious closet, it was already risky in your eyes to have been seen with the two, but whatever they were planning to do would have the town in hysterics for months to come.

One hand around your neck, and the other gripped both your thighs. The twins couldn't let you slip away like you always did, they had to have you this time.

Stack hiked up the skirt of your dress, he flashed you a charming smile as he looked up at you from between your legs. It left you feeling hot and embarrassed, yet he hadn't even laid a finger on you yet.

Smoke held your arms in place as Stack began to indulge himself in your dripping folds, his tongue borrowed itself into your slick hole as you managed out a moan.

“Let it out mama.” Smoke encouraged as his mouth made its home on your neck; leaving hickeys and spit wherever he saw fit while his free hand found its way to groping your breasts.

You were being overloaded on pleasure from every angle and all Smoke was doing was taunting you like he always did, “What was all that noise back there for, hmm?” His low, but playful voice teased as he pinched and squeezed at your nipple.

His hand then moved up to your mouth, fingers playing and prodding with your lips. “Did princess just need our attention?” Smoke was always great at getting people riled up, this instance was no different; the man's digits forced its way into your mouth, rings n’ all.

“Suck.” He commanded, and suck you did. The man could only scoff playfully at your obedience, it was clear to both twins that you could melt in their hands at any moment.

The more Stack nibbled and licked at your cunt, the more whiny and desperate your moans became, the more you rocked your hips to the rhythm of the man's mouth.

“Easy girl…” Stack spoke between your legs, his grip on your thighs tightening as if to hold you in place.

You send a hum of protest through Smoke's fingers at the brother who seemed to be getting off on your cries of pleasure.

“What, cat got ya’ tongue?” Stack laughed as he zoned back in on his main goal.

The deeper he sank his mouth into your slit, the closer you got to the edge. Your body writhed against his tongue as one of your hands broke free and made its way to the back of his head, which only seemed to encourage him more.

Fuck…

At this rate you were gonna-

Your body froze as the shock of your orgasm washed over your body, for a moment you swore the party going on outside ceased to exist. Stack removed himself from between the space in your legs, looking quite pleased with himself; the man flashed a smile at you, showing off his grillz.

Before you could catch your breath, the two brothers switched places and now Stack was behind while Smoke was right in front of you.

“You didn't think we were done with you, right princess?” Stack said, an amused grin graced his face as the sound of belts unbuckling made your breath hitch.

If it weren’t for the table holding you up, you know damn well that your knees would have given out.

Your face grew warmer as you felt Smoke gently push your legs apart, his length resting against your thighs. “If it gets too much, tell me.” He stated in a stern manner before sinking his cock into your sex.

The action was so fast that Stack failed to quiet your shaky moans that grew louder as his brother mercilessly pounded into your cunt. The sound of skin slapping in tandem with each other filled the room.

Strings of curses waterfalled from your mouth that made Stack laugh, he made a joke about having a dirty mouth for a pastor's kid; but you would have to appreciate it later when you're not about pass out from sheer pleasure.

“P…Please, Elijah…make me cum!”

Smoke's cock twitched inside you at brief the mention of his name, it was like a switch was flipped in his brain that made him speed up.

You were nearing the finish line of your inevitable high, with each thrust you were sure your vision was making you see dots. The final nail in the coffin was when the man leaned into your ear to say, “God I missed you…”

Your eyes fluttered shut as the satisfaction of both your orgasms washed over you, and a content sigh escaped your lips as Smoke removed himself from between your legs and there's a beat of almost comfortable silence in the air, “I meant that, by the way.” Smoke spoke up, trying to make himself look decent again.

“How we left you back then, it had nothing to do with you.” Stack continued for his brother, “We were…just protecting you in a way we thought would help back then.”

You listened to their explanations as you slipped back on your dress. “I didn't need protection, I just wanted the two of you to be there.”

“We're here now.”

Saw yall were dying over here on tumblr so I decided to chip in and finish this fic lol

Btw I can't promise that this is my comeback era

[multiversefanfics]

Need You To Sleep

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warning: nothing but fluff Summary: Dean needs to hold your wrist while he sleeps to feel comfortable, your heartbeat relaxes him. Word Count: 730 A/N: Got this idea from tiktok

Dean Winchester.

The big bad hunter, the man who wouldn't think twice about killing something that posed a threat to you or hurt you, the man who sleeps with a gun under his pillow, now sleeps with your arm under his pillow. You never thought in a million years that Dean would need you to sleep, the two of you hated each other when you met, but one drunk night, he realizes he can't live without you.

The first time you and Dean slept in the same bed together, he kept his distance, he was afraid he would have a nightmare and wake you up, or worse, accidentally hit you. As the two of you slept together more and more, Dean inched closer and closer each night. One night, he was exhausted from a hunt, you were in bed looking at your laptop researching random lore to pass the time until they came back.

Dean closed your laptop, tossing it gently to the end of the bed. He crawled between your legs, laying his head on your lap. You smiled and looked down at him, running your fingers through his hair, his body melted into your lap.

"What's wrong, my love?" You cooed as you ran your fingertips down the back of his head to his neck

He mumbled incoherently against your lap. You asked him to repeat himself, but instead of responding, he simply started snoring. You smiled and continued to rub his back. Dean started to stir a bit, you helped him get onto his pillow. Once he got comfortable, his hand went straight for your wrist. You were confused at first, but you let it go.

You noticed Dean started to do it more and more. It started off as him just wanting to touch you, then it became a need. He needed to feel your heartbeat to fall asleep, he wanted to make sure you were still there with him, that you were real. He never told you that, you just sort of assumed. It became a nightly routine: the two of you would talk about your day, listen to him complain about Sam, and just be all lovey-dovey.

You turned Dean into a softie, he used to think he was all tough when in reality he was yearning to be loved and to let his soft side out for someone he loves. Dean loved the way you could easily calm him down when he was upset or pissed. No one has ever been able to do it as quickly as you do. It scared him at first, but he learned to love it.

Dean was getting ready for bed. He crawled in beside you and immediately grabbed your wrist, holding it against his cheek. You looked over at him and smiled, you weren't going to ask but you just needed to know.

"Babe, can I ask you something?" You watched as he opened one eye to look at you. "Why do you do that?"

"Do What?" He raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Hold my wrist." You looked down at your wrist, then back at Dean. "I don't want you to stop, I just wanna know why."

Dean sat up, crossing his legs together, he brought your wrist to his lips and placed a small kiss on it. He looked up at you and exhaled peacefully, a small smile forming on his lips.

"I do this because it helps me stay grounded, it helps me sleep. It shows me that this is real, and it's not some dream I'm in." He looked at Sam who was peacefully sleeping in the bed next to you.

"It makes me feel at peace knowing that you're right beside me, I love you, and I never want to be away from you." Dean placed another small kiss to your wrist, smiling against your skin.

"I love you too, baby." You leaned over and placed a soft kiss to his cheek

"Now, can we go to sleep? I am exhausted." He shot you a wink and laid back down, placing your wrist on his cheek once more.

You playfully rolled your eyes and laid down beside him, hearing what Dean said made you feel loved, it made you feel important. He made you feel needed. Dean never truly needed anyone, except for when it came to you.

A/N: This one is a little short, but i still hope you guys like it. if you want to be tagged in future fics comment here or send me a message. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. 🥰

Main Masterlist - Dean Winchester Masterlist

Taglist: @iwudbutnah @littlesoulshine @miss-marmalade @bettystonewell @cherryresidence @ambiguous-avery

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Legacy

Pairing: Iceman x daughter!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Mentions of death

A/N: With the upsetting news of Val Kilmer passing, I’ve been in my Iceman feels. A few more Iceman one shots to follow. Thank you for reading - C

When you first told your dad you wanted to be a pilot, you were nearly five. Your mom said he laughed it off, chalking it up to your obsession with Top Gun. A childish dream, he figured—something you’d outgrow in a few years. Who could blame you? The planes were fast, the uniforms cool, and the base was your personal playground.

On your eleventh birthday, Uncle Mav took you up in one of his personal planes. Your dad was stuck in a meeting and had given Maverick one job: keep you out of trouble. Which, technically, he did. You two flew for hours, time slipping away like nothing. The note left behind for your dad simply read, Be back in a few. By the time you landed, your dad was livid.

He stood at the hangar’s edge, arms crossed, aviators on, watching the two of you walk up. Mav immediately knew he was in trouble, but how could he say no when his only niece asked to fly?

Your dad had a whole lecture ready about recklessness, responsibility, and needing permission. But the second you ran up to him, grinning ear to ear, animatedly retelling the flight, the fire in him faded. He glanced at Maverick, who smirked knowingly. And that cold Iceman exterior cracked just enough for a small smile. Your love for flying was pure. Still, your dad held onto the hope that you wouldn’t follow in his footsteps.

Your senior year of high school was one of your best. You’d been flying single-prop planes for years, occasionally sneaking into the cockpit of one of Mav’s when your dad wasn’t around. You were a well-rounded student with one secret goal you hadn’t told your dad at least, not until just before graduation.

You remember sitting at the dinner table, leg bouncing as your dad finished telling your mom how his day had been. Uncle Mav had just sat down with a plate of food, eyeing you suspiciously. While your dad was too occupied with settling down from a long day, Uncle Mav saw right through you. He nudged your leg under the table, catching your attention. The question was mouthed, “Are you okay?”

The shrug of your shoulder was what brought your dad into the silent conversation. “Anything the two of you want to share?” His eyes had bounced between the pair, now catching on to how nervous you looked.

You exhaled. “I got into the Naval Academy.”

Silence. You knew your parents had hoped flying was just a hobby. They had no idea you’d been quietly stressing over the application for months.

Maverick looked like he was trying not to grin. Your mom stared, wide-eyed, already understanding the path you were about to take. But your dad, he set his fork down, slowly processing.

You’d always told him everything. Your hopes, fears, dreams. This, though this he had no idea about.

“And you kept this from me… why?”

You expected the question. He was your best friend. And this, well… this could either bring you closer or tear you apart.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you said. “Either by not getting in… or by getting in.”

He shook his head slightly. “Getting into the Academy is a huge accomplishment. Very few get the chance. Of course I’m proud of you, kid. Why would you think I wouldn’t be?”

You looked down. “Because I want to be a Top Gun pilot. And you don’t want that for me.”

You didn’t see his hands clench. Didn’t notice the glance he shot Maverick. All you heard was: “And if that’s your dream, then I’ll support you however I can. I’m proud of you.”

Which is why it felt like a betrayal, years later.

You graduated from the Academy. You earned your spot flying F-18s. You worked harder than anyone, your flying record spotless, your performance unmatched. You earned the call sign “Frost” after someone asked if it was because of your dad.

“No,” someone replied. “She’s colder than he is and she earned it.”

You did everything right. Everything you could to be selected for Top Gun. But others kept getting picked over you, and you couldn’t figure out why.

Until you met Bradley Bradshaw.

You didn’t grow up with him. your dad hadn’t been as close to the fallen RIO as Mav was. He was a few years older, always in a different class. But you were bound to cross paths eventually.

It just happened to be at the worst time.

You were at a bar, nursing a beer when the mustached pilot sat beside you and ordered a whiskey straight.

“What has the mighty Frost drinking alone on a Wednesday?” he asked.

You snorted. “Reflecting. You?”

He chuckled. “Questioning life.” Then paused. “How well do you know Maverick?”

You tried to rack your brain for why he would ask that. In the little you knew about him, his dad was close with the pilot. Even when he passed, you knew Maverick continued to show up for him.

You hesitated. “Grew up with him. My dad considers him family. Why?”

He sighed. “I poured everything into getting into Top Gun. Found out he pulled my papers. No explanation.”

You froze. If Maverick could pull papers… your dad could, too. Your hands shook as you pulled out your phone and called Mav.

“Did my dad pull my papers?” you asked, voice barely steady.

He didn’t need to hear the answer to know it was yes. Bradley flagged down more drinks.

You lost years over that. Years of silence. But eventually, you and Bradley made it. You graduated Top Gun together as the top two in your class. An honor you didn’t share with your dad or Mav. Not yet. The hurt was still too raw.

A year later, your mom called.

She had always played Switzerland between you and your dad, but now she was urging you home.

What started as a sore throat had turned into throat cancer. Aggressive. Unforgiving.

Suddenly, those years of defiance felt small. Petty. Time you threw away because you didn’t agree with a decision. Time he endured, silently, battling the pain of losing you and then battling cancer.

You let go of the past. Spent every possible moment with him. Told him everything about Top Gun, the dogfights, the friendships. About Bradley, and how you wished you’d known him sooner.

In turn, he told you how had had been following every deployment and every accomplishment you had in your career. Pictures were on his wall in the office of your graduation. A replica certificate of graduating number one in your class hung next to his. Tears were shed between the two of you as you both come to the acceptance that days like this were coming to an end, and your best friend was about to be taken from you.

Your dad pulled strings to keep you state side as long as he could, and you were grateful for it. Every visit you had with him seemed like it could be the last. No longer could he speak. His body was becoming frail from the chemo. He was starting to spend more time asleep rather awake. But you both promised each other to make the most of it.

Your 30th birthday brought an assignment from hell. But at least it was near home.

You reconnected with Maverick after years of standing in solidarity with Bradley, much to Mav’s dismay. The only positive you seemed to find in the beginning was that it wasn’t far from home, allowing you to see your dad most nights.

By some miracle, you brought a boy home for the first time. You saw a new light in your dads’ eyes when you told him to set out one extra plate for dinner. Was he surprised when it happened to be the one guy who drove you up the wall back at the academy? Possibly. But Jake Seresin has his way of charming himself into your heart.

It was almost like your dad was making sure you were going to have someone to care for you when he left. The very next day, Maverick pulled you into his office and broke the news to you.

You don’t remember much after that, just that he held you while you broke.

Now, you stand at his grave.

As you stood there staring at his grave, you had to wonder why you were only given 30 years with your best friend. And in those mere 30, a few of them you spitefully kept from him. But you proved him wrong in the best ways. The love for flying was something the two of you shared. A bond that could never be broken.

As his casket lowered into the ground, you knew this wasn’t just about your journey anymore. Flying for the Pacific Fleet wasn’t just for you. It was to carry on the legacy of the man who gave you your wings.

[nana-luvy]

. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤

warnings: fem!reader, no established relationship, suggestive content (may i say, heavy makeout), a little foul language

In which he never wants to get used to it.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You know this feeling ? The feeling you get sometimes, the feeling that you never want the current moment to end ? Like you’d just want it replayed, over and over, nobody interrupting, nothing breaking the atmosphere, just a loop of this moment you crave to feel forever on end.

This was the moment.

“Hey, where are we going exactly ?”

His voice alone was warming your chest, the little laugh accompanying it making your heart leap in your body. Or maybe it was the alcohol in your system ? You knew it wasn’t your best idea, but you also knew you were still more conscious than not, and it was probably the only time you’d ever feel brave enough to do it.

“Don’t worry, it’s not too far away ~”

You two were almost running, you ahead as you lead him somewhere away from the campfire. The older campers had gathered on the beach for a late hangout, bonfire lighting up the dark night as everyone chatted away, passing bottles around for everyone to enjoy. And enjoying them you did. But it was the liquid courage you needed when Luke had been there all night, sitting next to you, talking to you, eyes looking straight into yours as his voice was all you could hear. Few innocent touches of your fingers over the warm sand in the warm summer night, digits brushing a strand of hair out of your face, having to mentally prevent yourself from leaning into his hand. But this look he gave you… it made something snap in place, and you asked him to follow you, and he wouldn’t have said ‘no’ in a million universes, taking the hand you were offering.

After just a couple minutes, you finally reached a small cabin, not too far into the woods.

“What’s this place ? I’ve never seen it before.” Luke asked, looking around and realizing he had already been on this part of the forest but had never seen the little hut.

“Well, I just like keeping this place to myself so I just… make sure nobody can see it if I'm not around ~” you simply answered, rubbing the fingers on your free hand and creating a small spark of magic, before sending a wink his way. “But I wanted to show it to you, I'm quite proud of my decorating.”

Luke couldn’t resist the smile on your lips, practically melting as you cupped his hand with both of yours now, pulling him inside and he opposed no resistance.

On the other side of the door were wooden walls and a wooden flooring, fluffy white carpets covering it, and fairy lights suspended across the ceiling to give that eerie atmosphere. There was a long, beige loveseat in a corner of the single room, inviting and cosy, a bigger couch of a more pink tone on the side, and the walls were stripped of any decoration other than a couple windows. It was just so…

“So cozy…”

“Well, I'm glad you like it, I've barely shown this place to anyone, I mostly use it for alone time… but it’s pretty cool, yeah..”

Still holding Luke’s hand, you tripped over your own feet, still feeling your head buzzing from the alcohol, landing on the nearby loveseat. Trying to compose yourself back while the boy in front of you stifled a small laugh, you patted the empty seat next to you, and he immediately took it, your hands untangling as you both longed for that feeling back.

“So… you brought me here to… show me how you decorated ?” He inquired, slightly cocking an eyebrow questioningly as he got more comfortable on the soft furniture, bending one leg to rest it closer to him on the beige fabric.

“Can I kiss you, Luke ?” He didn’t expect the bluntness, taken aback for a second, and the confusion in his eyes immediately made your tipsy self only want to talk and talk to fill the awkward silence. You stood up, trying to escape the weird tension between you two. “I mean, it’s probably because I'm drunk- I'm conscious of what I say, don't worry, it’s not like an assault or anyth- oh gods what am I even saying…? I just wanted to say, you don’t have to feel obl-”

Luke stood up right in front of you while you spoke, planting his two hands on the sides of your face gently before pulling his own head down towards yours, his lips melting over your own instantly like it was made to fit like two puzzle pieces.

You relaxed immediately, the hands that were previously flying in all direction as you poorly tried to explain yourself falling at your sides before they crawled upwards, hovering over his toned arms and crossing behind his neck for leverage, pulling him lower. In response, Luke’s fingers came to tickle the sliver of skin exposed by your short top, on your lower back, clasping your waist to keep you from falling as he bent over you and forced your backwards arch. It didn’t feel animalistic, even through the clash of teeth and the spit smudged over your lips in just a few instants together only, but instead full of this ungovernable need you both felt, wanting the other closer, deeper.

You both refused to pull away, heavy breaths hitting the other’s cheek with every exhale, your eyes closed shut tightly as you tried to take in everything you two could feel in the moment, inking it in your memory. Your hands went up the boy’s curls, fingers threading in his darks locks, nails scratching his scalp as you pulled him even tighter in your embrace when his own hands ventured around your body, digits pressing against any displayed skin, roaming your arms and barely waiting for any kind of permission —found in a low moan— before dipping under your top to feel the smooth skin of your back, tracing a gentle path up your spine. This simple sensation was soft and delicious, your head dipping back and your mouth falling agape from the feather-light touch that trailed fire along your skin, and Luke took the opportunity to leave your lips and drag his lower, following the line of your jaw, tracing a path down your neck and coming back up to leave a lingering kiss right below your ear. Your fingers ran through his hair mindlessly, or from his view maddeningly, ruining the defined pattern to leave a mess of disheveled curls that just made him look that much hotter in the end. As his lips attached themselves behind your ear in a wet kiss that echoed through your mind, you tugged lightly in an attempt to keep yourself grounded, making him groan against your skin, a sound that sent your head spiraling down a never-ending slope of lust.

Standing a little straighter, you backed him up into the nearest wall, avoiding any piece of furniture in the way before resting one hand on his chest, feeling the taught muscles under your palm, as the other grabbed his chin to make him look down at you.

“Are you usually this bold?” Luke asked, panting as he tried to even his breathing when you finally took a short break, his chest heaving with each breath.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a little smirk dancing on your face. “I wish I was always like this, I would’ve kissed you way earlier. Why, y’like it ?”

“Damnit,” he groaned, swiping his hand over his face, “you’re so fucking hot.” He dipped his head to join your lips again, but you quickly pushed him back against the wall with your hand on his chin after barely a peck. Your smile broadened before you went on your tip-toes, leaving a kiss right at the corner of his lips, trailing along his cheekbone and letting your tongue wander the length of his scar while he exhaled heavily, eyes closed shut as he became almost putty at the surface of your touch. He could barely think past the sensation of your lips, his mind spinning, body practically arching into your touch.

“You’re not fair…”

“Then learn to enjoy the chase, because I don’t wanna play fair, right now,” you replied softly, eyes looking up at his pained expression with a smile in your gaze. “Can I?”

As the whisper reached his ears, Luke felt dainty finger playing with the first button of his short-sleeved shirt, twisting it around in anticipation, and his face got impossibly more flushed. “Whatever you want-” he replied with a heavy sigh, all possible tension in his body relaxing as he felt your lips pressing against the thin skin of his neck. He laid back on the wall completely, trapped within your grasp as your lips latched onto the skin of his torso, tracing the path right in the middle as you tugged off one by one each button of his shirt. “Shit… You're gonna make me loose it…”

“Good,” was all you murmured before letting your fingers nimbly undo the last few buttons, nose nudging his face so he’d face back down and kiss you. His lips were like honey and you were a bear, hungrily taking them in, tugging them between your teeth gently, wanting selfishly to keep them to yourself forever, and Luke was only mirroring your energy. His hands had found purchase at the nape of your neck, playing with stray hair and keeping your head angled without putting too much tension in your neck, giving him the perfect way down to match your hunger, eating at your lips like a starved man. Teeth were still clashing, tongues sweeping past lips to explore mouths and bringing the other in a maddening dance for the lead, while words consisted more in low whines and groaned moans than actual intelligible thoughts.

“How come- mmph- we never did this?”

The air was electric around the both of you, bolts of energy shooting in your body each time his fingers tugged your head a little further back, urging you for more. “I don’t know..” you sighed against Luke's lips, refusing to pull away, and he was the first to do as his lips reattached to your skin, grazing over your jaw in the most teasing tickle. “I didn’t think it’d ever work ou- oh dear gods, never stop that…”

Through the moan that left your lips as Luke finally —after minutes of holding himself back— suckled a purple bruise right under your jaw, the boy could only feel the surprise from your words and the flush adorning his face from the praise, feeling his body heating up. “Why would you of all people think that ?” he whispered against your skin, the vibration deliciously ringing up to your ears.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, your fingers finally leaving his clothed sides to run slowly down his heated skin, the feeling almost emboldening as your head filled with all the possibilities. “You’re just you, and I can’t talk to you unless I’m… well, like this-”

“Like this ?” he asked, a little quip accompanied by a smile you could feel tugging at his lips against your collarbone.

“Tipsy, Luke, I can’t fucking talk to you without this cheap ass vodka in my system, of course it didn’t happen earlier…” you sighed, pleased hums tumbling past your lips with each wet kiss he placed along your neck. Still, your hands didn’t shy away, tracing the outline of every muscle adorning his front, his chiseled chest, the dips and ridges of his abdomen, the low-waist of his cargo pants allowing you to gently trace the v-line adorning his hips, nails scratching against the skin until reaching the hem of his bottoms.

“Wow wow wait- slow down, pretty…” he immediately reacted, voice vibrating against your skin as he didn’t remove his face from the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips to entangle his fingers with yours, bringing them away from him and rather leaving them around his neck, arms resting loosely on his shoulders while he held your hands behind his head. “Let’s not-” he stopped for a second, gulping down hard, and you could feel his panting breath on your skin. “Let’s not… go there, yeah ?”

Whatever confusion might’ve been written on your face, it was quickly wiped right off as he tugged you closer by the arms, hands still in his, his face going back up to yours and crashing your mouths together. He didn’t let you go, didn’t let you move away, instead trying to get every parcel of your skin stuck to his: his hands left yours to fall around his neck, only to circle your waist back in a split second; his head was dipping to make you arch back in his touch, making sure his front was pressed against yours and his hands held you back; his tongue was persistent, pushing past your lips and tangling with yours any chance he got, letting you drink in low moans whenever your hands tugged at his curls while he walked you backwards.

It wasn’t long before he turned you both around, his hands on your waist and behind you thigh you tug you back on him as his knees hit a couch and he sat back on it. “You know, I could get used to this,” he murmured on your lips, refusing to pull away too far, and a shiver ran up your back while his hands idly traced meaningless patterns on your exposed skin.

“Don't, I wanna feel that feeling of new everytime.”

First request aaaaaaaah (im actually tweaking, anon i love you.)

I'm not really used to writing this kind of fic, i'm more into writing fluffy fluff, i guess, so i hope it's good <3

Tell me yourthoughts if you got any, recommendations and critics greatly appreciated ~

Love, Nana ♡

[willowsnook]

Right Place, Right Time (last pt. LN)

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

@seasonswinter @drdbnkl2008 @jaematthews15

this is the longest one bc i needed to finish before i go on vacation :)

To say things were not going well was an understatement. On the outside it seemed like you were holding it together but on the inside you were barely staying afloat. You were going out less with your friends, keeping more to yourself at work, and drinking more. You'd watched both of the races since Austin, secretly happy to see that Lando was finishing outside of the top 5 both times. You had been staying off social media but one of your friends had let it slip that he had been fined a bunch for refusing to speak to media after both races.

You'd facetimed Lily a couple of times and she never brought him up but could tell that you were still sad about the situation. She still insisted you come to Vegas and you promised that you were still coming.

Lily was worried about both you and Lando. He was miserable, Oscar talked about it all the time. Moody in team meetings and refusing to hang out with anyone besides Max Fewtrell occasionally. She was a romantic, so she was hoping that you two would make up in Vegas and it would all magically work out in the end. There was one step already in motion that you were just about to tell her.

"So I have some news," you said over the phone, mindlessly picking at your nails. "And am hoping for some advice."

"Okay...what's up?" She said.

"So you know how I was telling you last week about being nervous for this meeting with my boss and her boss?"

"Yeah, what happened?"

"They offered me a new job." Lily squealed.

"That's so exciting, congratulations," she said. "I haven't necessarily accepted it yet," you said.

"Why not?" "The role would be managing the EMEA partner team, meaning I would have to move to the UK," you said and she was silent for a second.

"Oh," she finally said.

"Oh is right," you said sighing. "It's a great career opportunity but with where things stand with Lando I'm not sure if it's a good idea."

"I mean would you really be around him that much?"

"I guess not really but we'd still cross paths a lot."

"Hmm have you talked to him since October?"

"Nope."

"Maybe you guys should talk next week?," she suggested.

You actually had been planning on doing that, trying to make up and see if you could repair what happened but then your friends showed you some tabloid pictures, you changed your mind. You tried to not pay attention to any F1 gossip but you'd gone down a rabbit hole when it was reported that Lando was with a blonde girl while with Max F on a golf trip. Your suspicions were confirmed when you saw a pic him with her in his car. At first you cried for a good couple of hours and then you were livid. He's the one that was sooo into you.

"I don't think so," you said simply. "He's already moved on so it doesn't really matter."

"Well I think you should still take the job, don't let him take away something good."

--------- Vegas GP week, Friday -------------

You walked into the paddock with confidence radiating from you. You actually had passes for Red Bull's garage for the weekend thanks to Max but you thought it would be a bad look professionally to rep their merch so you had a cute Ferrari jacket in case you were cold.

"Ahh hermosa, did you wear that for me?" You laughed pulling Carlos into a hug. "Looks like you stole those jeans from Charles' closet though."

"I missed you buddy," you said and he smiled, throwing his arm around you as you walked through.

"I missed you too, not as bad as someone else though," he said and you stopped walking, crossing your arms over your chest.

"His new company seems to suit him just fine," you said and Carlos raised his eyebrows.

"Y/n I don-," you cut him off.

"I don't want to talk about him," you said and he nodded.

Speaking of the literal devil, your steps faltered as you saw him staring at you from across the path, ignoring the reporter trying to get his attention. He started to step towards you and Carlos but you watched Carlos shake his head and he stopped moving, looking deflated. You kept your eyes forward and let Carlos guide you towards Red Bull.

"Schatje!"

You smiled widely as Max picked you up twirling you around.

"I'm actually very upset with you," he said once he put you down and you looked at him quizzically.

"You're moving closer to me and you didn't say anything," he said and you nodded.

"You're moving?" Carlos asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I got promoted to oversee all of our European partnerships so i'll be heading to the land of the British next month," you told him and he grinned.

"Congrats y/n, you deserve it." He said.

"Does Lando know?" Max asked.

"No, and I would prefer to keep it that way," you said firmly. Both boys nodded but gave each other a look. Carlos had to head back to Ferrari so you and Max headed into the garage. You watched his and Checo's practice session and then headed towards hospitality for lunch. Max walked you up there but then beckoned Daniel over to you.

"I have to go to a debrief but Daniel will keep you company," he told you and you rolled your eyes.

"I don't need a babysitter Max," you grumbled.

"We have a united front," he said before leaving you.

You didn't realize what he meant until later when it seemed like you had spent the day being passed from driver to driver keeping you away from anyone wearing Papaya. At one point you sat in silence with Fernando drinking coffee, both feeling awkward but it paid off. Lando had ended up in the same area and he saw his chance but Fernando abruptly stood up and Lando quickly turned on his heel.

At the end of the day you waited in the parking lot for Lily and squealed when you saw her and Oscar walking towards you. You gave her a big hug before moving to give Oscar one. When he pulled away he kept his arms on your shoulders shaking you.

"I am begging you y/n, please talk to him," he said. "I am going to kill him or myself by the end of this weekend if he doesn't stop."

"Just tell him to leave me alone," you said sourly and Oscar sighed. Lily slipped her arms through yours and you headed towards your car.

"I know you're with RB for the weekend but will you please keep me company tomorrow during qualifying?" Lily asked. You thought about it for a minute before agreeing.

The three of you piled into Oscar's car and drove you to the strip to find someplace for dinner. You got seated quickly at a nice restaurant thanks to Oscar's status and you had just opened the menu when someone slid into the 4th seat, across from you.

"Lando," Oscar said and you groaned.

"What?" He asked innocently. "I want to have dinner with my teammate, is that a crime?" You huffed and Lily gave you a sympathetic look.

"Nice jacket," he said causing you to finally meet your eyes. His expression was neutral and you kept yours the same.

"Thanks, it was a gift from Carlos," you replied.

"Lovely," he muttered looking down at his menu. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

"Good, good," he said awkwardly.

Oscar luckily jumped in at that point to take over the conversation. Lando kept trying to catch your eye but you refused to look at him and you could see him growing more frustrated. The waiter came back at the end asking how you guys wanted to split the check and Lando quickly motioned that the two of you were on one and Lily and Oscar on another. You huffed crossing your arms.

The four of you headed out of the restaurant, Lando close behind you.

"Ride with me back?" He asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not," you replied and he sighed.

"Are you going to keep avoiding me the rest of the weekend?" He asked.

"Hopefully for the rest of eternity," you said back.

"Baby please," he said and you whirled on him bringing your finger up to point.

"You don't get to call me that," you seethed and he gave you those sad puppy dog eyes. You caught up with Lily who didn't press about the situation, simply squeezing your hand in support.

----- Qualifying --------

You got to the McLaren garage early the next day to find Lily and unfortunately she was not the first person you saw.

"Come to wish me luck?" Lando said as you walked in, grabbing your attention.

"I quite literally am praying that you are out in Q1," you replied and he frowned. One of his engineers laughed, covering it up with a cough and he shot them a look. You found Lily sitting with a headset on and you joined her. The first round went by fast, both boys making it into Q2.

Q2 was going fine to start but you noticed that some of the engineers jumped in scrambling with anxiety. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up just in time to watch Lando slam into the wall on turn 14. You gasped and grabbed Lily's hand instinctively, your other one going to cover your mouth. You heard his engineer repeatedly ask over the radio if he was okay and you let out a massive sigh of relief when he groaned out that he was.

You watched as he pulled himself out of the car, holding his side. He disappeared with the stewards and you fiddled with your hands nervously.

"I need to get some air," you told Lily pulling off the headset and heading back outside.

You lingered outside of the medical tent for a little bit before finally deciding to walk in. You saw Lando lying on a bed, clearly in pain waiting on a doctor to come over. You made your way over to him slowly and he reached his hand out to you when he noticed. You slipped your hand in his, bringing the other to run your hand through his hair. The doctor came in and wanted to check Lando's ribs so you helped him pull his suits off. Lando squeezed your hand hard, face grimacing as they felt around his ribs.

They ended up deciding that nothing was broken, just bruised and you walked back to the garage with Lando ,your hand still in his. His team surrounded him as you got back and you squeezed his hand as a goodbye before going to find Lily again.

------- Race Day ----------

Lando's POV

Lando was waiting around for the driver's parade talking to Oscar when Max and Carlos walked up.

"How are you feeling?" Carlos asked.

"Meh, it still hurts but it's survivable," he replied and the guys nodded.

"Heard you had a visitor in the medical tent," Oscar said and Lando blushed.

"I was very surprised to see her," he admitted and Oscar grinned.

"Guess you'll be seeing a lot of her soon too," Max said and both Oscar and Carlos snapped their heads towards him. "Oh fuck."

"What are you talking about?" Lando said confused. All three of them refused to look at him. "Guys?" Oscar sighed.

"She got promoted at Monster and is going to be based out of the UK starting next month," he said and Lando was shocked moving angrily towards him.

"Why didn't anyone fucking tell me that?" He demanded and Carlos stepped in.

"She asked us not to man," he said and Lando slumped back.

"I shouldn't be telling you this because Lily would kill me," Oscar started. "But she was planning on telling you and seeing if you guys could work things out but then the pictures of you and Magui came out and yeah."

"What do you mean pictures?" He asked. "We're just friends, nothing happened."

"Look all I know is that she was really upset and then decided that she didn't want to fix things anymore."

Lando was stunned. He had been with Magui once, and it was in a group. It's not like he could control that those were the pictures that were posted.

Y/n's POV

The race came and went, Oscar securing the win and you were in their hotel room getting ready for the celebration with Lily. Right now you could see her and Oscar whispering to each other, him looking over at you multiple times. Finally Lily came over fidgeting in front of you.

"Spit it out Lil," you said while applying lip gloss in the mirror.

"First I want to say that I didn't mention this earlier because you didn't want to talk about him and then it just never felt like it was going to change anything but after seeing you yesterday and how you reacted I think you should know," she said and you nodded for her to go on. "Nothing happened with that girl. She's one of Max's girlfriend's friends and they were hanging out in a group. I know the pictures looked bad but they weren't really anything."

You looked at her trying to figure out what to say and she continued.

"I know you still care about him. And I know he hurt you but you know how badly he feels about that. So I'm not saying you have to give him a chance romantically but don't let gossip that's not even true hold you back."

"it was much easier when I thought it was true," you smiled sadly at her and she pulled me into a hug.

"You'll figure it out."

You guys showed up at the club a little later, heading to the VIP section where pretty much the whole grid was. Being in Vegas overshadowed having a bad race for sure. Lando was talking with Max and when his eyes met yours you knew that he knew about the job. It all clicked why Lily felt like she had to tell you now. You looked away from Lando quickly following Lily to get a drink.

The next hour the tension between you and Lando grew considerably. The small touch on your back as he moved past you, him catching you staring multiple times, him hovering near you constantly...

Eventually you followed Carlos and Lily down to the dance floor and lost track of Lando. Oscar joined you a little later and you had the most fun that you had all weekend. You soon felt two hands on your waist and were pulled back into someone's chest to dance. You looked up to see Lando holding you, moving you to the music. Eventually you turned around in his arms, wrapping one arm around his neck. You were staring intensely at each other before he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"Can we talk?"

You nodded and let him pull you off the dance floor, heading back to your section. He found a quiet section in the corner and sat down in an armchair pulling you down to sit on his lap, his arms resting comfortably around your waist.

"This is how you want to talk," you teased and he smiled.

"Easier to hear you like this," he replied before settling into an awkward silence.

"I know-" "I know-" You both started and then stopped amused and he cleared his throat.

"Congratulations on your promotion," he said and you looked down rubbing circles on his arm with your thumb as you mumbled thanks.

"I'm not with that girl," Lando said and you looked back up at him. "She's just a friend."

"I wanted to tell you about the job," you blurted. "But I thought you had moved on because like you said 'you could get any girl you wanted'". He winced as you said this.

"I was upset, and I know it's not a good excuse but you were breaking my heart," he admitted. "Maybe I could get any girl I wanted but that wouldn't matter if I couldn't get you."

You felt butterflies in your stomach and you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head in his neck.

"I'm still going to be far away from you," you mumbled into him.

"A two-hour flight is nothing compared to fourteen," he said bringing a hand up to brush through your hair. "Plus it'd be easier during the season to come stay with you during the in betweens."

"I guess you're right," you agreed and he pulled your chin to look at him.

"I guess I am," he said before he leaned in connecting your lips. You deepened the kiss shifting to where you were straddling him, holding his face in both of your hands. You pulled back resting your head against his, both breathing hard.

"Please come back to my room with me," he begged and you laughed. "Funny business this time."

"You are so lame," you teased slipping off his lap.

"You love it," he said.

"I do," you reply bringing him in for one more short kiss.

The two of you moved out of the section and towards the door holding hands and you smiled as you caught Daniel looking from you to give Max a fist bump.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

✨️Bodhi durran ✨️ that's it.

BUT ALSO

Imagine him being the most amazing boyfriend. I don't know if you have seen lockwood and co on Netflix but that scene where lockwood dresses Lucy's wounds and is looking dead ass deep in her soul smiling, my god bodhi material.

To get to my point if you could write a one shot of bodhi finding out you're injured and going ballistic to anyone that let her out of their sight and got hurt and then finding you trying to wrap your wounds and instantly going all soft and helping I would be forever in your debt

Ps. If you haven't watched lockwod and co it's absolutely worth it.

I haven't watched the show so if this isn't exactly how you pictured this, I apologize✨🤍

Worries

"Where is she?", Bodhi yanked onto one of the recruits, who was in the same formation as you, shirt up. The poor lad looked like he was about to shit himself at best as he stumbled over words. The thing was... Bodhi was fun and games until he wasn't. And that wasn't part come a lot sooner than expected. Considering that the past weeks of him being a section leader had been rather calm. But that sorry fuck just had to show off. Had to break formation. Had to try to prove his piss poor ego and get you hurt.

"You're speechless all of a sudden?", Bodhi shook the guy in his grip, "Answer the goddamn question before you end up like a roasted chicken on the solstice table". You could hear a pin dropping in the background that's how silent the squad had gotten. "I think I saw her entering the building", some other recruit cut in. Bodhi narrowed his eyes, "You think or you saw?", shoving the quivering male he stepped aside sizing everyone up.

"You weak shits better listen and better listen well", he practically growled through gritted teeth. His first instinct was to run after you. He saw the blood gushing from your hand after the coalition. But he also knew his title. Causing a bigger scene than necessary would only turn heads your way. And neither of you needed that. Neither of you wanted to become a target leading to one another. "If any of you will ever do anything similar to what Marco did today", Bodhi grunted. Gods, he felt like Xaden. "I will skin you myself and believe me your dragons will smoke you alive. Dismissed", he practically roared as the recruits hurried away. Bodhi ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.

"She is up in your room", the voice made Bodhi jolt slightly. Garrick was leaning against one of the pillars. "I passed her, she's fine, man", Garrick continued to speak since Bodhi just stood there, "You did well here too. More and more like our beloved Xaden every day". He knew it was a dig. The two cousins had been compared ever since their interactions were brought to the daylight. "Why don't you go fuck yourself", Bodhi grunted as he walked past his friend. "Gets boring after a while", Garrick chirped in return. Bodhi simply snarled but that of course earned a satisfied chuckle from Garrick.

"Show it to me", the sudden bag of the door practically hitting the wall and the raised voice made you drop the blood-soaked rag. You knew Bodhi was gonna find you eventually. Your dragon was practically counting the minutes for you ever since you had flown back first and dismounted. "Bodhi, it's okay", you tried to keep your voice calm. The wound wasn't all that bad it was the angle and the damaged tissue of the skin that caused it to bleed so much. "Don't you it's okay, me", he grunted, "Show me", his voice was lethal low. He never used that tone with you. It was his section leader's voice. The voice he gave a report in. But it never was showcased around the people he trusted and cared for.

"There's nothing to look at it's...", "I didn't ask, I gave you an order", he cut in, grabbing your upper arm gently so he could look at the damage himself. Bodhi's eyebrows knitted together for a moment, his jaw flexed. "Sit", he muttered motioning towards the bed. "Bodhi", you breathed out. "Baby, I swear to everything holy to me", he exhaled a shaky breath, "you either sit or I am carrying to the healer's wing and will put you on bed rest for a week". You huffed at his threat but you knew that he wasn't bluffing so you followed his orders.

Bodhi was so gentle as he carefully wiped away some of the blood before pressing a clean bandage on your cut, securing it in place. Make sure it's tight for a couple of hours before the bleeding slows down. He would redo it in a couple of hours. Wash it off with a salve he would go ask for. Then another bandage. Then... "Bodhi, I can hear you making plans in your head", you muttered. It was cute watching him fuss at times. It was his way of showing love but you also knew that his head was a wild space and it only took one bad thought to have it all spiraling out of control. "Does it hurt a lot? Do you need something for the pain?", he asked, his concerned eyes searching yours. "Start by giving me a hug and then sit down with me", you said softly, "I promise, I'm fine". You reached out for him, taking his hand into yours, squeezing it.

"I just hate seeing you hurt", Bodhi breathed out, his shoulders drooping. "The feeling is mutual but there are times we can't do anything about it", you reached to run your fingers through his messy curls. That now was completely out of control since he no doubt had been pulling at them. "Do we have a murder scene in the backyard?", you nudged your boyfriend's shoulder, making him snort. "Not yet but we might...", Bodhi exhaled, turning to face you.

"You promise you're okay?", you met his worried gaze but this time instead of answering him you just leaned in and kissed him. Slowly and tenderly. Letting him feel your love. "Good enough proof?", you asked when you two finally broke apart. "Not sure... maybe a couple more kisses", Bodhi thoughtfully nodded his head. You giggled slightly before cupping his face once more.

[hearts4renaa]

DON’T BE A STRANGER.

summary: seeing him for the first time after the breakup. featuring kaeya and xiao. (separately)

contains: angst, post-breakup, one mention of the holiday season, gender neutral reader with the use of “you” as a pronoun

a/n: did you miss me? happy holidays from rena 🫶 listen to scott street by phoebe bridgers while reading

Nothing screamed holiday celebrations more than a couple drinks with friends at Angel’s Share, and that’s exactly what Kaeya did. Unfortunately, you had the same idea, sitting at the bar and sipping on a drink. The breakup was still fresh in your mind, and you just needed someone to talk to. Was your ex’s brother the best therapist? Probably not, but Diluc was the closest thing you had to a friend right now.

“It’s just…bad timing, you know?” You rant off to Diluc, who patiently listens as he polishes the plethora of cups in front of him. “I shouldn’t be this upset, I know, but-“ The bell above the door rings from behind you, and chatter of the new customers fills your ears. One of them chuckles, and you feel your shoulder tense at the familiar voice. It was Kaeya. Diluc shoots you a sympathetic look as Kaeya and his friends stride right by your seat to a table in the corner. You go silent as your eyes direct themselves to your cup, but in your peripheries, you can see the silhouette of the man you once called yours.

Even seeing someone who looks remote similar to him makes your heart ache, so actually seeing him brought upon a different kind of pain. You know it wasn’t anyone’s fault and that sometimes things just aren’t meant to be, but you’re confident that you’ll never love someone the way you loved him. You know you’ll look for him in everyone you meet, and that’s what really hurts. Most of all, you know that the two of you will probably never get back together; but a small part of you can’t help but hope. You shake your head to get out of your thoughts.

You down the rest of your drink, tapping the glass back down onto the bar. “I’m gonna head out.” You mutter to Diluc. He nods in understanding.

Diluc calls to you on the way out. “Y/N.” You turn back to listen to him. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Your throat tightens up, and you can’t conjure up a response. You nod, giving him a sad smile. Your eyes automatically drift to Kaeya’s table, and you find that he was already looking at you. He swirls around the drink in his left hand, not paying attention to the conversation of this colleagues.

He nods his head and gives you a small smile, and that’s how you know it’s really over.

—

The storms in Liyue haven’t been very kind to you lately. The thunder claps are booming, and the rain never seems to stop. You find yourself walking into Wangshu Inn, dripping from the rain. Verr Goldet waves cheerfully as you walk in. “Y/N!” She greets. “Here’s a towel. It’s pouring out there.” She tosses a plush white towel your way. You nod gratefully, placing the towel over your shoulders. “Head on upstairs,” She tells you. “Xiao might be up there.” You feel your stomach twist into knots. He didn’t tell her?

The two of you had been broken up for two weeks now, and almost every night, you tear up just thinking about it. He pushed you away, claimed he did it to protect you. That he was too dangerous, too troubled, too much of all the wrong things to be deserving of your affection. Xiao’s head told him it was for the better, but his heart was screaming for him to never let you go. You ultimately accepted his decision, and with a heavy heart, you said goodbye. You simply nod at the inn owner’s words, biting your tongue and heading upstairs. You weren’t really going all the way up to where Xiao normally was - instead, you figured you’d just find a table and sit until the storm passed. You found a little nook against a window and let your shoulders ease as you relished in the shelter from the storm. Your mind wanders as the rhythmic “pitter-patter” of the rain lulls you. I wonder if Xiao’s really here-

“What are you doing here?”

The voice makes you jump. You whip your head around, and you’re met with Xiao’s face. Your eyes widen, and your mind frantically searches for something to say, but you aren’t fast enough. Xiao keeps talking. “Didn’t I tell you that it was dangerous being around me?”

You swallow thickly and stand up from your seat. “It’s pouring out there.” You tell him matter-of-factly. “I’m waiting for the storm to pass.” Xiao’s face is emotionless as his eyes simply scan over your face. You notice the grip on his polearm get tighter. What you don’t know is the way Xiao bit the inside of his cheek. He was foolish for even hoping that you might have come back to him.

His heart takes control of him and he feels himself spewing words he doesn’t mean. “Good.” He spits out. “Mortals have no business being around an adepti. If it were a perfect world, we would have never met in the first place.” His words sting a little more than you’d like to admit. Xiao regrets the words as soon as they leave him mouth, and it felts painful for him to see the pain flash across your face. There is so much he wishes he could say to you. He turns away to leave, and you have to physically stop yourself from grabbing ahold of his cape.

“Xiao-“ His name falls from your lips before you can stop yourself. He doesn’t turn around, but he stops in his tracks. “Don’t be a stranger.” You whisper. He says nothing back. You blink, and he vanishes in an instant.

Only until after he leaves is when it really hits you: You will never say his name again.

[fictionalreads]

I Wish I Loved You Like I Miss You

A/N: A short little thing while I try to get past a block on the boxer AU. Hope y'all like it! Title is from After All These Years by Camila Cabello.

Masterlist

Fandom: Bad Boys

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Reader

Summary: Armando runs into you after your break-up.

Warnings ⚠️: Angst.

The barista calling out your name is what caught Armando’s attention. It wasn’t an uncommon name, but it was like he instinctually knew it was you. Looking up, he saw you walk to the counter to grab your coffee. Your hair was longer than it was the last time he saw you, reaching mid-back now. It was now black rather than the chestnut brown he was used to, still curly as ever. You looked leaner with more defined arm muscles, maybe you had finally started that boxing class you’d always said you wanted to try. You smiled at the barista in thanks and his breath was taken away at the way it still shined.

Your smile had always been his favorite thing about you.

He wasn’t prepared to see you. He had thought about what he’d do or say to you if he ever did see you again from time to time but there was never a concrete plan. In the beginning, he thought it was temporary, that you’d come back and he’d beg for your forgiveness and you’d take him back. There was no way a love like yours could just be over without trying to fix things. He’d been prepared to give you whatever you wanted, if only to have you back. After a while he realized you meant it when you said you were done. He had been angry at first, thinking you were just like everybody else in his life, quick to use him for what you wanted before leaving him behind like he wasn’t worth it. As time went by, he realized it wasn’t that you thought of him as not worth it, you simply valued yourself more.

He could understand you needing to put your own peace and happiness ahead of his, especially because he never considered your needs the way he should have.

So he decided he would leave you alone if he ever saw you again. He’d give you the thing you wanted most, the space from him to move on and find better. He owed you that much. But seeing you now, he couldn’t let you pass him without a word. He wasn’t sure how to approach you, how to start an apology that you didn’t need from him.

How to ask for closure from you when you’d already found your closure by leaving.

You checked to make sure you had everything before making your way through the small crowd in the shop. You didn’t get frustrated with anyone, simply said excuse me and waited for them to move, no anger if they moved slowly. He had about five seconds before he lost his window of opportunity, but it was like he was frozen. Overcome with emotions that he couldn’t untangle enough to put into words. Guilt and yearning at the forefront.

Four

He couldn’t help but think of all the ways he’d sabotaged the relationship. All the times he’d started arguments because he was scared, afraid you’d decide not to love him after all. When he’d decided for you that you couldn’t possibly love someone like him. All the times he pushed your patience, trying to see how far he could push you before you broke.

Three

He had thought he’d made his peace with losing you but seeing you now brought back all those old feelings he’d once carried around. Maybe he hadn’t moved on as much as he’d pushed it all down in an effort to forget, to dull the pain of loss, because he craved the feeling he would get when you smiled at him. He wanted you to look his way, to simply acknowledge he was there. He wanted to be the center of your attention once more, vowing he’d do better at making you his in return.

Two

As you got closer to him, he noticed a ring on your finger. One that meant you’d clearly moved on, found the person who was able to give you what you needed, who didn’t take your love for granted. Someone you didn’t have to make excuses for, someone who prioritized you. Someone who was ready for you. Was it fair of him to bring up the turmoil when you were happy now?

One

A/N: I thought about writing if Armando reaches out to her or not and the consequences of whatever choice he makes, but I kind of like that it's open ended. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog!

Taglist: @d4rno @yeahnohoneybye @nelo0wesker

@omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @bootlegroach

[cirtusmistress]

Hurricane

Authors Note: I wrote this about two years ago and posted it to AO3, and never cross-posted it to Tumblr. But given I want to get back into writing, I may as well start by posting what I got! So enjoy my first fic, two years late.

Ship ~ Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader

Tags ~ Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader is Competent, Storm prep, Brahms is Scared of Storms, Touch-Starved Brahms Heelshire, Reader Replaces Greta Evans, Minor Injuries, Doll Brahms Heelshire, One Shot, Gender-Neutral Pronouns

AO3 Crosspost

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A storm? Like, a thunderstorm? Or is it worse?” You asked. You’d been working for the Heelshire’s for around two months now. And though they’d left you with very detailed instructions on how to care for their beloved son, they had never brought up things such as house care. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying this long. Not into Autumn.

“A full on hurricane.” Malcolm answered, setting the last of the grocery bags down. He continued, “The worst one we’ve had in years apparently. They’re predicting outages and downed trees. I can help you secure the windows and doors if you’d like?” He offered. A sweet gesture. An olive branch of friendship. But you knew better than to take it.

During your short time at the Heelshire estate, and caring for Brahms, you’d learned a great many things. The most crucial being that whenever someone stayed around too long and stole your attention away from the doll you cared for, there was hell to pay. In one instance you found the dining room in complete disarray after simply inviting Malcolm in for tea, during a rare social moment for you. The worst case was when a friend of yours stopped by. They were a globetrotter, and seeing as you already had residence found it simpler to just stay with you. A mistake. One night was enough to send Brahms into the worst tantrum you’d ever seen. Multiple rooms destroyed, a window had been broken, and he had stolen your friend's passport. Your friendship didn’t last long after that. After all, who was to believe that a doll could cause so much harm?

“Thank you, Malcolm, but I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with a few storms in my life, I’ll manage.” You replied. Malcolm studied you for a moment. Likely trying to read you, sniff out any signs of dishonesty. But, there were none. Just that warm smile that could melt anyone's heart. He gave a sigh of defeat and nodded.

“If you say so. Just give me a call if you need anything. I’ll come check on you when the hurricane passes.” With that he gave you a wave and headed back to his truck. You muttered a soft thanks, finally returning to your chores.

Brahms sat in the kitchen where he’d been waiting. Like he was listening to your conversation. You’d grown used to this odd job of yours. Caring for a doll as if it were human. Though you’d always figured there was more to this situation then most believed. You’d heard of people using dolls to cope with loss, the concept wasn’t lost on you. But for a couple well into their later years? And there were just.. Too many small things. Even in the rules. Playing music loud, reading in a loud clear voice, leaving food in the freezer. Food which you knew was going missing.

But the biggest tell was an accident. It had been about a month into the job. You’d actually begun to believe Brahms was a child's spirit trapped in the doll. What with him moving around on his own, and leaving you little offerings, and once saying your goddamn name when he was upset. But then, just by accident as you were putting Brahms to bed, you hit your foot against the wall. It had hurt so badly you thought you’d broken a toe. But what stood out in your mind even now was the sound the wall made. It didn’t make the thud you knew from stubbing your toe time and time again in youth. The wall sounded hollow. There had been an echo. Now you knew some older houses had hollow walls. Normally the cavities between the two layers were used for insulation. But that echo.. That wasn’t a normal hollow wall.

After that you’d started paying closer attention to the house and Brahms as you went about your day. Watching and listening. Countless nights where you’d lay in bed and just listen. You’d hear shuffling, the rare footstep like someone had stumbled. Once you swore you heard breathing. You noticed how many rooms had large paintings or cabinets, your size or larger. For a while you thought you were going mad. There was no way in hell that an elderly couple had been keeping their son in the walls for twenty years. But then you learned of the Heelshire’s deaths. Suicides. So many things pointing to something you didn’t quite know how to feel about. On one hand, you were now basically the sole guardian of a doll who was actually a stand-in for the hypothetical twenty-eight year old man in the walls. On the other, Brahms was now completely alone after twenty years of isolation. Alone, save for you. Sweet, kind, loving you who treated a porcelain doll like a real boy. Who read to him every night and tucked him in with a kiss. You couldn’t just leave him. No matter what Brahms was.

“We’re in for a storm, Brahms. I guess that means we’re having a slumber party downstairs tonight.” You cortled, putting the last of the groceries away. You took note of how little perishables Malcolm had dropped off. Thinking ahead. You wouldn’t be able to cook for however long the power was gone, if it did go that was.

You turned back to the doll, scooping him up and taking him with you. You figured the downstairs office would be the safest place. The windows were relatively small and were less likely to break. It would do for your purposes. You sat Brahms in the corner and got to work moving the desk out of the way. You’d have to lay down blankets and things to sleep on. You doubted the old fashioned Heelshire’s were going to have something like an air mattress.

You spent a good hour doing basic storm prep. Dragging some old blankets and comforters out of wardrobes and laying them down on the floor. Filling up buckets and the tubs with water. Getting crossword puzzles and cards. By the time that was all done, it had begun to rain outside. The calm before the storm you supposed. The last thing on your storm checklist was lanterns. This was an old house, you were certain that the Heelshire’s would have oil lamps somewhere. Naturally the first place you wanted to check was the attic.. But you knew better. After all, if your theory was right you didn’t want to scare the poor man by invading his space. So you settled on checking the cellar first.

Only issue was, you really couldn’t bring Brahms. You knew he was never meant to be alone but taking a fragile doll into a dark cellar was too risky. He’d have to stay upstairs. You were hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

“Brahms, I’m headed to the cellar. I’ll be quick, I promise.” You hummed. With that, you headed down alone. You had been right, it was dark and musty and damp. You started to wonder if there was mold down here. You flicked on the old dingy light which surprisingly still worked. You began digging through the clutter. Old things like furniture, clothes never worn since the sixties, even some art pieces. It was like a time capsule. You didn’t have time to walk through history though, you needed to find anything that could give light without the use of electricity. Lower and lower you went through the piles, until finally you found something. A pair of old oil lamps and a small can of oil to go with it. You muttered a soft thanks, pulling them out from beneath wicker chairs. But what was behind them gave you pause.

The bricks were singed. Dark burn marks that showed age. Your eyes followed the marks. The furniture in here had covered them, but now they were exposed after your rummaging. They flowed over the bricks going upwards. They almost looked beautiful. But that beauty hid a tragedy that plagued this home. You knew why they’d been hidden with so much clutter.

Your thoughts were interrupted when something crashed behind you, making you scream and jump. When you turned you saw one of the mirrored vanities stored away had been smashed. The mirror shards now littered the floor. And on the steps sat the Brahms doll, staring you down. It took you a moment to catch your breath, realizing your error. Brahms didn’t want you uncovering his painful memories. And he’d made sure you knew that. Gathering yourself, you pushed the lamps aside and began to put all that you’d moved back into its place. Covering those painful memories back up, letting them remain hidden and forgotten. Once finished you picked the lamps and the can up and approached Brahms. Kneeling to his height you gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry Brahms,” you spoke with such a genuine tone of sincerity, “I shouldn’t have snooped around. But look! I found the lamps we’ll need!” You held up the lamps, jostling them a little so they clinked together. Of course the doll remained frozen. But just faintly, almost missable under the sound of rain pouring down, you heard panting. Like someone coming down from a rage.

“I’ll clean up the shards, then we’ll head back upstairs, okay?” You’d started speaking to Brahms out loud more after you’d learned about the walls. Feeding your own delusions some would say. You held your word, starting to pick up the larger shards and resting them on top of the vanity. The smaller ones you just brushed away with some loose fabric you found. You didn’t really plan on coming back down here anyways, not after that outburst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always found time moves slower when there was a storm. The day seemed to drag on as the storm became worse and worse. The wind had picked up and those raindrops just kept getting larger. It was loud, even on the bottom floor. You had settled on just simple sandwiches for dinner, making sure to put a ‘spare’ in the freezer. And after that you’d just settled in to do a crossword. It was.. Probably the first time in weeks where you felt safe. There was something about the dim lighting and blankets that just felt right. Secure. Warm. Brahms sat under the covers and you’d even given him a crossword book of his own. Slightly cruel, knowing he couldn’t move with you there with him. But at least you’d been talking to him. Funny, you always struggled talking with real people. But this doll turned you into a chatterbox. Maybe it was the simple fact no one was attempting to speak over you. Like someone was actually listening.

Your tranquility was disrupted by a large gust of wind, followed by a crash that made the manor shake. And what sounded like a scream. It had come from upstairs. Something inside you just knew. That crash was in the attic. You were running upstairs before you even had time to think. Up the stairs, and finding the attic ladder down. You were unsure if it had come undone itself or if someone had moved it. That didn’t matter as you climbed up. It was your first time in the attic but you didn’t get a chance to explore. A branch had flown off a tree and crashed through the wall, opening it up to the elements. You could only act, no time for clear thoughts. You grabbed a nearby blanket and started to desperately try to cover the hole, but another gale blew you back. There was nothing you could do to patch it right now, not unless you wanted to risk injury or worse, death.

Your rattled mind returned to the scream you had heard. Or at least you thought you had heard. Looking around you didn’t see a body but there was a bed up here. A tv, a sink.. Someone was living here. You didn’t have time to celebrate your theory being proven. Where was Brahms? Your eyes flitted around, finally landing back on the ladder. Somehow you had missed the very clear bloody handprint on it during your panic. But if Brahms was bleeding.. Oh God, how badly was he injured? Quickly you descended the steps, trying to find any sign of him. You were too panicked to even fear this man who was hiding from you for so long. All you knew somewhere in this house he was hurt and bleeding.

“Brahms?” You called, starting to check every room. Could he have climbed back into the walls? Fearing you discovering him? You checked everything on the top floor and worked down, calling his name in a more desperate tone with each exclamation. But finally you found him. Turning the corner back into the downstairs study. There he sat, in place of the doll. It wasn’t what you expected to see. The mask was shocking at first glance. You were momentarily stun locked. He was bigger than you anticipated, even sitting down. Finally you snapped out of it when he looked at you, and held out his bleeding hand. It had a sizable gash across the palm.

“It hurts,” He spoke in a child-like voice. The voice you’d heard months ago. His head drooped a touch as he spoke, “Can you fix it?” He asked. Finally, after another beat, you nodded. Your mouth felt dry. Too dry to speak. In the kitchen you found the first aid, and took it back with you. He hadn’t moved from his place on the makeshift bed. You knelt beside him, and carefully took his hand in yours. Up close you could see the burn scars that ran along his entire right side. Suddenly his outburst in the cellar made much more sense.. Carefully you applied some rubbing alcohol to the cut. That made Brahms whimper and pull his hand back. The look in his eyes behind that mask was murderous.

“I’m sorry, Brahms, but I have to.. To clean it.” You choke out. Your mouth is still far too dry. You hold your hand out for his again, giving him those warm eyes again. He would trust you wouldn’t he? After all, you had been the one to care for him all this time. He looked at your hand, then back to your face. For a moment Brahms almost seemed entranced by your eyes before conceding and resting his hand back in yours.

“Good boy..” You said, starting to clean the wound. He made a noise akin to that of a moan at your praise. You supposed you were the first person to touch him or give him praise in years. He was likely touch starved. Once the cut was clean, you grabbed the bandages and began to wrap his hand. He kept watching you. His breath was heavy behind that mask.

Finally you were done, and you let his hand go. Brahms examined your work, how carefully you’d wrapped him, and the cute little bow you’d tied it off with. As he studied his hand, you studied him. Despite the childish voice he put on, he was very much an adult. You could see his beard poking out from beneath the porcelain. He was actually rather handsome, you’d admit. The rain picked up again, and the lights began flickering. Brahms jumped and quickly moved closer to you. Before you knew it his head was hiding in your lap. Apparently he was afraid of the storm. Made sense, it had attacked him after all. Carefully you began to stroke his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“We’ll be okay. Just a little wind and rain, that’s all. Maybe we can play cards? Or I can tell you a story?” You offered. Just trying to find anything to distract him from the weather outside damaging his home. Slowly he nodded, not lifting his head from your waist. Actually his grip seemed to grow tighter. You could feel him inhaling a little too deeply, and his hands started to squeeze your thighs as he held tight. You felt bad thinking how unsurprised that made you. But he had lived in the walls for twenty years.. And you were likely the first person he’d had stick around.

You settled back on to the makeshift mattress, Brahms never letting you go. He shuffled up a bit, so his face was resting against your chest. You kept stroking his hair, picking your brain for a story to tell. Something romantic as you had a wild feeling that was right up his alley. You recounted the story of Pride and Prejudice, not skipping any details of the classic story. Brahms seemed all too enthralled by the tale. He even began to kick his feet in the air when you recounted the climax between Elizabeth and the beloved Mr.Darcy. Just before you could finish though, the lights finally gave out. Brahms tensed up against you and again hugged you tight against him. You let out a wheeze. You needed to get the lamps but he seemed content just smothering you until the lights came back themselves. Finally you managed to sit up as he continued to cling like a baby koala.

“Brahms, sweetheart, I need to light the lamps.” You manage to get out. But that seems to make his grip tighter. He shakes his head, face pulling your shirt back and forth.

“No. No lamps. I don’t want any fire in the house.” He whimpered. Your heart broke a little. That night seemed to have never left Brahms.. You stroked his back soothingly before trailing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“Brahms, we need light. It’ll be okay, I can work an oil lamp-” You were cut off as Brahms slammed you back down against the floor. Even with the cushioning it knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands fell from his face beside yourself as his own gripped your shoulders.

“No fire in the house. Never again.” His voice was no longer that high falsetto. Instead it was deep, aggressive. He sounded his age. You gasped for air, before nodding. Tears had pricked your eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt as you questioned whether or not he’d hurt you.

Finally you found your voice again, “Okay Brahms. No lamps, I promise. Do you want another story?” You asked in a feeble attempt to calm him back down. Lucky for you it seemed to work. Brahms grip on your shoulders loosened, and he returned his head to your chest. He nodded and urged you on to tell your story.

A shaky sigh escaped you. You thanked your lucky stars that you could calm him so easily. As you began telling another story, the rain and wind outside crashed into the manor. You knew Brahms would never harm you. Not you. Not his caretaker. But you began to wonder. How long would this storm last? Suddenly, in the dark, the room no longer felt secure.

[aliciasays]

Safe - Joel Miller x OFC - Chapter 6

Word Count: 3.4K

Status: Ongoing

Get ready, this one is a doozy.

Chapter 6: Comfort

Surprisingly, it was Penelope who asked Joel for his number in a rare moment of braveness. He had walked her back all the way to her front porch that night, and before he had a chance to turn around and make the short trip back to his house, she asked him.

She had stayed awake late that night, feeling  like a love drunk schoolgirl and not the 25, almost 26 year old woman that she actually was— but it had been years since someone had caught her interest like this, since she’d had a crush on anyone. She’d been so consumed with trying to get somewhere in her career that she’d dodge any advances some of her coworkers had thrown her way, and besides, it was malpractice to date in the workplace. She didn’t need that kind of drama in her life, but now because of her beliefs she was a damn near virgin. The last time she’d actually slept with anyone had been back in high school, and it had only happened once.

Sure, she’d dated here and there while in California, but the guys she’d met online never made it past the first date, let alone into her bed.

So the prospect of going on a date with Joel Miller was exciting, if a bit scary.

It calmed her nerves, ever so slightly, to know that he was interested in her enough to ask her out… but of course the negative thoughts came to the forefront. He hadn’t explicitly said that this would be a date. Maybe he was just being nice? Maybe he was just asking her out for a drink as friends. Maybe—

I need to calm down, she thought, smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. 

It was Saturday, a few minutes before 8 o'clock, and Penelope still couldn't believe the days had passed so quickly. She could still picture herself standing in front of Joel’s sink, washing his dishes as he dried them beside her….

”Hey Pen, wanna tell me why I got Joel Miller looking like a dumbass in my living room?”

Penelope turned around quickly, giving her dad a sharp look as she caught him leaning against the frame of her opened bedroom doorway.

“Don’t call him that,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down, “what if he heard you?”

”I don’t give a shit,” her dad shrugged, but a small smile graced his lips as he informed her, almost teasingly, “he’s got flowers.”

“He brought me flowers?”

“Sure did— now you're gonna explain what’s going on here?”

Penelope could feel the heat rush up her chest, to her neck, and then settle on the apples of her cheeks. Joel Miller was standing in her living room, and he’d brought her flowers.

This was a date.

Ignoring her dad, she turned back around to look at herself in the mirror she’d been standing in front of. Her curly hair had been blow dried to fall down her back in smooth waves, her makeup was minimal, taking into consideration the Texas heat, and she had dressed up in a simple white sundress that fell down to the middle of her thighs, a pair of brown cowboy boots adorning her feet.

She looked…. Alright, she thought. She didn’t want to dress up too much, not knowing if this was a date or just someone asking her out for drinks as friends. He had flowers though, actual flowers— it was too late to change her outfit now.

”He asked me out,” Penelope said simply, turning away from the mirror to look at her dad. “I don’t know what more you want me to say.”

“Haven’t even been here for two weeks and you already got the neighbor on you,” her dad sighed.

Penelope just shrugged, trying to look unbothered.

”I already gave him the third degree downstairs though,” her dad suddenly grinned, making Penelope’s eyes widen in horror, “next time though, give me a damn heads up.”

”What did you tell him?’

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” her dad laughed loudly, choosing that moment to turn around and head downstairs.

Penelope quickly grabbed her purse and a random jean jacket that hung off her dresser, following closely behind her dad, glaring at the back of his head.

“Tell me,” she hissed at him, but her dad just laughed at her.

Before she could demand an answer from him, they had reached the bottom of the stairs, and that’s when she noticed Joel Miller standing in her living room, holding a bouquet of flowers.

He looked adorable, she decided. He was in simple jeans and a button down blue shirt, a brown jean jacket over that. On his feet were a pair of boots that looked slightly newer than the old pair of work boots Penelope had seen him usually wear, and it looked like he had combed his hair back, his curls not as defined tonight as she was used to seeing.

He indeed was holding a bouquet of flowers, making Penelope’s heart flutter as she noticed the bouquet contained sunflowers and roses— her favorites.

“Hi,” she said softly, suddenly out of breath as she walked towards him.

Joel gave her a small smile.

”Hey…”

Jensen Green took this opportunity to disappear into the kitchen, leaving his daughter alone with their neighbor. He had been surprised when he opened the door and saw Joel standing there with a bunch of flowers in his hand, but he was slightly relieved once he put two and two together.

At least it aint that knucklehead Tommy Miller.

The night dragged on slowly, and for that both Joel and Penelope were very thankful. They found themselves at the Austin Summer Fair, both with drinks in hand as they walked through the fairgrounds slowly.

The fair was the last place Penelope imagined Joel taking her, however she was glad it was the fair and not some seedy bar. The fair felt more personal for some reason.

“Are you hungry,” Joel had been asking as they walked down a row of booths selling odds and ends. “…Don’t know if you’d had anything to eat before we came here.”

”I haven’t, actually,” Penelope smiled shyly, taking a sip of her drink. 

“I think the food is on the other side of this…”

Penelope nearly died as Joel decided that in that moment, he was going to grab hold of her hand, leading her toward where all the food vendors were. She couldn’t bite back the large smile that overtook her lips as she trailed along behind him, relishing in the feel of his larger hand holding hers. His hand was warm, certain spots on his palm being calloused from all the manual labor he did, and Penelope liked how his larger hand enveloped her smaller one.

If there was any doubt in her mind about this being a date, or about Joel not being into her in the same way she was into him, that was quickly snuffed out. Him taking hold of her hand, and him keeping a hold of her hand as they waited in one of the lines to order their food, was all the reassurance Penelope needed.

“So…” Joel trailed off, looking up at the menu that hung above the booth they stood in front of, “What do you want?”

”The brisket nachos,” Penelope grinned, “No jalapeños though. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but when I mix that with beer… They’ll give me heartburn.”

Joel smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze before he said, “how about you go find us a table? I’ll be over with the food in a bit.”

Penelope nodded, begrudgingly letting go of Joel’s hand to turn around and find an empty picnic table. Thankfully she didn’t have to search for long, and found a table off to the side from where the booth they were getting their food was from. She sat down, setting her drink on the table top and taking a moment to look around. The fair was cute, small, and very intimate. There were a few carnival games set up here and there, but the majority of the grounds were littered in different booths for food, drinks, and small businesses trying to sell their wares.

So caught up in her observations, Penelope didn’t notice the body that sat beside her until she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She smiled for a second, beginning to lean into the body that held her, but then she caught sight of Joel, his back facing her, still at the booth waiting for their food.

What the fuck— this isn’t Joel.

Penelope immediately stood up, shrugging out of the arm that had been wrapped around her shoulders. She looked down at the unfamiliar man who sat before her, and scowled down at him. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a black shirt, brown boots on his feet, and his blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. 

She cringed. Definitely not Joel.

”Awe, c’mon baby,” the guy grinned up at her, standing up and towering over her.

Penelope cursed internally, but she held her ground. She may be five feet tall, but she had laid out guys bigger than her, and this guy would be no exception.

”I was here first, so I’d appreciate if—“

“Now now,” the guy cut her off, reaching out and grabbing her upper arm to try and pull her close to him, “how about you just take your pretty lil’ ass over—“

”Don’t fucking touch me!” Penelope yelled, making a few heads turn, including Joel’s.

Joel saw red.

Who the fuck was that?

And why was he grabbing Penelope like that?

Food forgotten, he began to make his way over to where he saw Penelope struggling to pull away, pushing past people to get to her and not caring if he was shoving anyone out of the way roughly. Before he could intervene however, he caught sight of Penelope rearing her small fist back, her hand connecting with the man’s throat. He watched in mild horror— and slight pride— as Penelope’s leg came up next, connecting with the man’s crotch. As the man doubled over, one hand on his crotch and the other on his neck, gasping for air, Joel saw Penelope raise her arm again, her fist connecting with the man’s cheek.

By the time Joel made it to Penelope, the random man was on the ground, and Penelope was seething, slightly doubled over and a hand pressed tightly on her right side, under her ribs.

“Shit,” he cursed, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her lower back, “hey you — WOAH WOAH, it’s me!”

Penelope nearly punched Joel in the face if it wasn’t for him gripping her wrist in his hand to stop her.

It took her a second to realize who was gripping her wrist, but once Penelope looked into Joel’s eyes, she crumbled. The adrenaline, the emotions, the pain… they all washed over her in an instant. Wordlessly she fell into his chest, and Joel wrapped his arms tightly around her— until Penelope gasped in pain.

“Shit,” she gasped against his chest, “I think I pulled something.”

Joel pulled away from her, one of his hands settling on her waist, while the other made its way underneath her ribs.  His fingers brushed damp fabric underneath her jacket, and he loudly cursed. She was bleeding.

“Let’s go,” he said darkly, glaring at the man on the ground. He wanted nothing more than to give him a good kick in the head for touching her, but there were too many witnesses, and Penelope was starting to go pale.

She was his priority.

The ride back to the house was silent. Penelope refrained from saying anything as she noticed Joel had pulled into his driveway instead of hers. She was thankful for that. She could see the lights on at her house from across the street, her dad no doubt trying to stay up to wait for her, and she was in no mood to explain what the fuck had just happened.

The pain in her side had subsided by the time they’d reached the house, but she couldn’t help the groan that left her lips as Joel helped her down from his truck. She was still tender.

”I got you,” Joel told her softly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he led her up the porch steps.

Penelope remained silent and simply followed his lead.

The lights were on in the living room, the TV being switched on to the 10 o'clock news. There was no sign of Sarah or Tommy, but Penelope could hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen.

”Tommy!” Joel suddenly yelled out, making Penelope jump.

The rummaging in the kitchen stopped, and shortly after Tommy walked out, a slice of pizza in his hand.

”Hi,” Penelope told him shyly, slightly grimacing as a random sharp pain stabbed her in the side.

Tommy dropped his pizza.

”Go get the first aid kit,” Joel ordered, guiding Penelope to the sofa.

”What the fuck happened,” Tommy recovered, pizza forgotten on the ground as he rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve the first aid kit they kept in the cabinet.

”Some asshole got handsy,” Joel all but spat, helping Penelope remove her jacket.

As soon as the jacket was off, both Tommy and Joel cursed. There was a sizable red patch of fabric blooming underneath Penelope’s ribs.

”I’m okay, really,” Penelope tried to reason with them, “It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

If looks could kill, she’d be dead. Joel was glaring at her, but he chose to say nothing and took the first aid kid from Tommy, rummaging through it until he found the alcohol wipes and gauze.

”Tommy, turn around,” Joel barked, and Penelope suddenly forgot about the pain in her side.

She knew where this was going.

”Look,” she tried to reason with him, “I’m—“

”You’re bleeding,” he cut her off, the look in his eyes leaving no room for argument. “Either we patch you up here, or your dad—“

”Fine,” Penelope sighed. She did not want her dad finding out about this.

She glanced at the back of Tommy’s head nervously, thankful that he had turned around and wouldn’t be a witness to her taking her dress off. But that left Joel, who was sitting beside her, his eyes burning holes into her skin. She grabbed her discarded jacket and draped it over her lap, trying to give herself some semblance of modesty as she pulled the dress over her head. She couldn’t help but to hold her breath as she placed the dress beside her, keeping her eyes on her lap as she felt Joel move to kneel in front of her.

”Hey,” Joel told her softly, his hand on her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze, “I got you, okay.”

Penelope looked up at him and smiled softly, nodding her head and placing her hand over his. She was nervous, and embarrassed, but she felt safe with him, regardless of the fact that she was sitting on his sofa, chest exposed to him in nothing but a lacy white bra.

”Okay.”

Joel set to work after that. Penelope’s scar was healed for the most part, but with all the movement she’d made tonight, one of the edges where the skin was still thin had torn open. She winced as Joel lightly cleaned the blood off with the alcohol wipes, glad when he placed a gauze patch on her side which meant he was done.

Tommy to his credit, had kept his back turned to both Joel and Penelope during the whole incident.

Wordlessly, Joel got up, making his way upstairs, Tommy on his heels. Once they got to his bedroom, Joel sighed and walked straight to his dresser, rummaging through it while Tommy just stared at him with a bewildered look on his face.

“So what the fuck was that?” Tommy asked, crossing his arms.

”Took her to the fair— left her alone for 5 fucking minutes and then the next thing I know some guy’s got his hands on her.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“She laid him out flat before I could reach her.”

At that, Tommy let out a loud laugh.

If you were to tell Penelope that she’d be spending her Saturday night sitting in Joel Miller’s living room, dressed in nothing but one of his old t-shirts, she’d think you’re crazy. But here she was, watching a cheesy movie while eating day-old pizza, her legs draped over Joel’s lap.

Penelope didn’t know at what point she’d gotten comfortable enough to drape her legs across his lap, but considering what had transpired earlier that night, she didn’t care anymore. His fingers absentminded traced random patterns along her legs, and she nearly melted into the couch at his soft touch.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the only other noise besides the TV being the dryer going off in the background, her dress currently being run through its last drying cycle.

Penelope took the opportunity to think back on everything that had happened that night. The date had been going so good; she had found out little facts about him, like how he didn’t have a favorite color but preferred neutrals, or how he could play the guitar but swore he wasn’t any good at it. He had recently taken up wood working, and every summer he and Tommy always organized some kind of trip before school started for Sarah.

The more Joel had talked, the more Penelope could feel herself falling for him… and then that random guy had to just ruin their night, making them cut their date short.

A soft buzzing snapped Penelope out of her thoughts— her dress was done drying. She watched Joel carefully, but he kept watching the TV, his fingers still tracing random patterns on her legs. Penelope smiled at that— Neither she nor Joel made any move to get up, and she was glad. She didn’t want to leave just yet, but she knew that at some point she’d have to get up, get dressed,  and make the trip across the street.

”I think my dress is ready,” she found herself saying against her better judgment.

”I know.”

Penelope simply stared at Joel, eyebrows raised in surprise. He kept his eyes glued to the TV, but Penelope noticed that he had stopped tracing patterns on her legs. His hand had settled for resting on her thigh, and Penelope’s breath caught in her throat.

He gave her thigh a slight squeeze before he finally turned to look at her, offering her a small smile as he said softly, “Want me to go get it?”

Penelope, to her surprise, found herself shaking her head, telling him boldly, “no, not yet.”

Good, Joel thought, smiling to himself as he turned back to look at the TV.

Joel wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting together in the living room, but at some point, Penelope had fallen asleep. He watched her in the dark, her legs still on his lap, the TV’s soft glow creating shadows across her sleeping features.

He thought it was silly, but she looked so beautiful just laying on his sofa. She looked like she belonged there, sleeping in one of his old t-shirts, her hair mused around her face and shoulders, her arms resting across her stomach. She looked so innocent, just laying there, not a crease on her face as she slept peacefully.

She looked perfect.

When he’d seen that guy grabbing Penelope, his vision had been clouded by a red screen.The hot rage that had run through his body was indescribable, and the only thought he could think about was getting to Penelope— getting to what was his.

He was relieved when he’d reached Penelope to see that she had stood her ground, but seeing that pained expression on her face, the look of rage and fear that was mixed into her gaze as she’d nearly punched him in a moment of impulse and confusion— it tore into him. An overwhelming need to protect her, to keep her safe, had swelled up inside him then.

He was going to keep her safe, regardless of what he had to do to achieve that.

[adeliniel]

SFW alphabet | Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

It's been 2 years since I wrote anything! Such a long pause for me. But Dune brought me back. Happy to write again!

Please, enjoy and let me know what you think^^

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

As a surprise for you he’s not that affectionate in public. Feyd might hold your hand or touch your shoulder, just to remind everyone who you belong to, but he doesn’t really need to prove anything to anyone. Things change dramatically when you two are in private. Feyd doesn’t talk much, he prefers to express himself through touching. Depending on the mood, it doesn’t always mean a nice, gentle touch. It can be rough and demanding, or light, almost teasing as well. But he tries to make sure that you’re on the same page and he’s not hurting you deliberately. 

B = Body (Their favorite body part of their partner, why? Do they like touch?)

Eyes. He likes how you look away, your cheeks red, when he stares you right in the eyes. He likes your tender gaze when he looks back at you with so much desire to be intimate, to share something only you two can understand.

Feyd is more into touching than talking. He knows his body well and he can express more with just a simple touch. He has an opinion that talking is just a wasted effort and that the body never lies, so why waste precious time when he can show you his true feelings right there simply using the body language.     

C = Courtship (What do they do to take your attention?)

Na Baron has such a famous and intriguing personality, he doesn't have to do much to attract your attention. People either want to know him, or prefer to stay as far away as possible to not get into trouble.

It’s you who one day caught yourself thinking about him more than usual. Wanting to have at least one more look at him, you started taking longer ways to your chambers, just in case Feyd is wandering around the station sometime late at night.  

D = Domestic (Are they the type to settle down with you? Are they willing to help with chores? What is your daily routine with them?)

Wherever he goes - you go with him. You are his family and Feyd has no intentions to leave you behind. You’re his wife and he wants you right beside him.

E = Espousal (Do they want to marry you eventually? Who proposes to who?)

Of course. That’s the only way he sees your future together. Not just tradition, not just necessity, but a way of confirming how serious and precious this relationship is. It was kind of mutual decision, Feyd did a proper proposal anyway.

(Although forget about kneeling, sweet words and typical "Will you marry me?", cause it wasn't even a question.

F = Fragile (How protective are they of you? If they are, how do they show this?)

Absolutely knows that you’re fully capable of defending yourself if needed, knows that you can stand up for yourself and would never interfere unless he senses a real danger. Feyd gets a great pleasure out of watching how independent and confident his darling is. And even more when he sees you putting his brother to his place (below you).

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they like receiving gifts?)

Feyd is not big on gifts. You already have so many things, everything you want is there, he feels like whatever he chooses, it won't be worth it. If only he could give you, say, a planet, that would make a great gift. Just enough to show you the depth of his feelings.

Nor is he huge on receiving presents. In fact, there’s nothing you can give him that he doesn’t already have. Wealth, power, glory and love - Feyd is blessed to have it all. The best gift you can give him - your full presence and loyalty. And an heir.  

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He didn’t really understand what’s so special about hugs at the start, but grew to kinda like them as the time passed. Although he likes physical touch and that’s how he usually shows affection, Feyd thinks that hugs are just a substitute for something more significant. He’d rather hold your hands or grip his hands around your neck. He will also definitely choose stroking, petting and/or choking over hugs.   

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?) 

Not that Feyd has particular problems with intimacy, he just doesn’t know what to do. Playing with you is easy, but being present and real is challenging. It took a lot of time before he could put his smirk down and look you straight in the eyes with his heart wide open, showing his naked insecurities.  

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jealousy is, probably, his biggest insecurity. He knows that he’s good, but sometimes he questions himself whether you find him good enough. Despite his power and status, Feyd knows that there are other men and he can’t help but compare himself to them.

Noone knows about it, even you for a long time, because he never talks about it. He never shows when he’s really jealous. He does play with you sometimes, pretending to punish you out of jealousy, but it is never the case of his real feelings. He keeps it all to himself.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

All that you can and can’t imagine. He starts slowly and then ends up biting your lips and tongue. He likes the power it gives him over you, likes the taste of your blood, he likes to dominate and to use his opportunities.

And more than that he loves that you reciprocate it, that you show your passion, you express your love and loyalty to him. He does like that it goes both ways. He likes to feel that both of you are alive and feeling.

Recently Feyd has discovered that pleasant feeling when you kiss the back of his neck. it gives him goosebumps and he can’t get over it.     

L = Love language (What’s their love language?)

Touch. He doesn’t need words to express his feelings when he can just touch you. Feyd uses his hands, mouth, tongue to love and punish you, to express his worries, anger, to be gentle or to be rude. Years of training made him a great master of his body and he’s convinced that his body language is way better than him talking.   

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s usually awake and gone long before you get up. But on those rare occasions when he doesn’t need to be anywhere early, he’d wake you up just because he’s bored.

N = Nicknames (What do they call you? What do you call them?)

Was happy when you moved from calling him Na-Baron to just simply calling him by his name. He finds it intimate enough and doesn’t see a point in creating nicknames. 

He tried to say “My love” a couple of times, but didn’t really feel into it, so he stopped.

O = Overture (How did everything start?)

Slowly and way less serious. Feyd mocked around quite a bit before actually growing feelings towards you. You didn’t expect much, considering the difference between your social positions, but the man of his power can do whatever he wants and choose whoever he desires. You felt you were lucky enough to fall in love with him before he approached you with his confession.

“Possessive” you thought, accepting Feyd’s invitation to visit him in his room that night.

(To your biggest surprise nothing sexual happened. Instead you met a deadly serious Na-Baron telling you about his plans to build a long-term relationship with you.)  

P = Pace (Are they fast-paced in a relationship? Or do they like to take things slow?)

Feyd is unexpectedly chill in the relationship. Apart from all the passion and desire, he smells a sense of security, he knows that you’re not playing around, that you’re not going anywhere, so there’s no need for drama. No need to rush when you have the eternity ahead to enjoy each other. 

Q = Queen/King (Who takes the initiative in relationships?)

Absolutely, 99%, he’s the lead. Even though he likes to play games, where he pretends to give you control over him and lets you dominate, it never goes beyond the bedroom door.

R = Remembrance (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The night when you first had sex. That tingling feeling of something completely new happening, so expected and desired. Exciting moment of mutual trust. Feyd’s fascination, seeing you wanting him just as much, feeling that you’re not afraid, even knowing who and how he is. Holding and having you all for himself, and even more than that - belonging.

 It was no vanilla, rather a night full of passion, a bit rough, but definitely long and enormously pleasant.

S = Salvage (What issues does this relationship help him to cope with?)

Feyd doesn’t have many insecurities, but for a long time he felt like he can’t find a suitable partner, and it made him feel like he’s lacking something significant in his power. A partner that’d be strong enough to put up with his character. Someone not just for breeding, but to show the world that he has it all.

Marrying you gave him more control over his social status and made his life complete. Love is a nice addition to it, but it also cured him from feeling not good enough.

T = Tiny (How are they around children?)

Children are not an option, they are an obligation, you knew it from the very beginning. But it doesn’t necessarily feel like a burden. It has to happen sooner or later, so Feyd is generally looking forward to it.

The idea of being able to create something all by himself, without his uncle’s or brother’s influence or power, makes him feel really proud of himself. And you.

U = Ulterior (What’s their secret?)

Quite rare, but he feels tired. Feyd doesn’t want anyone to know or see him like it. He’s afraid that it will affect the way others perceive him. And so he disappears. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days.

It scared the shit out of you when it happened for the first time. You genuinely thought he died in a battle. But you got used to it with time, and learnt not to disturb him in moments like these.    

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

No surprise it takes quite a while. He’s longing to be seen and heard, but it also takes a lot out of him to start sharing. Not that he’s afraid of being ridiculed or betrayed (he’d simply kill you, if this happens). He worries that if he starts talking, he might not want to stop. Having someone loving and caring listening to him with no judgment is something completely new in Feyd’s experience. And for a long time he doesn't know how to address it. 

W = Wound (How do they feel about exposing their scars/injuries?)

Feyd is proud of his wounds and scars. His masochistic side induces him to mutilate himself, and the sadist inside of him prefers to do it right in front of you. Just to enjoy that look of confusion and disgust on your face. It really turns him on.

As much as that he likes when after this little play you take care of his wounds and cause him some more pain.      

X = Xtra (A random headcanon about your relationship)

Feyd LOVES to be spoiled and to have your undivided attention. Something he never had before. He wants it all, all the time. Whether he’s bragging about how good he’s at fighting, or just quietly lies on his stomach while you gently stroke his back, or complaining to you how hard it is to be a Baron, he wants your full attention to his persona right there, right now.

Y = Yearning (How well do they cope when their SO isn’t with them?)

It is a really rare occasion that you are apart from each other for more than a couple of hours. Usually you just don’t have anywhere else to be. Feyd is so used to having you around, he doesn’t even think that it can be different or that you’ll disappear. And if it ever happens, he’ll set the whole universe on fire just to get you back.     

Z = Zzz (How are nights spent with them?)

Feyd is actually a nice quiet sleeper. He doesn't snore or steal the blanket, doesn’t even take your side of the bed, even though he’s used to sleeping alone. Although being busy in his new role, he spends more and more time managing tasks and goes to sleep really late, so you do get lonely nights sometimes.   

Thank you for reading!

You can find more of my writings right here

[to-thelakes]

Reader and Luke not being together yet (even tho theyre both stupidly in love with the other (duh)) and reader falls asleep on Luke in the jet after a rough case!!

statistical anomaly

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

summary; after a case drags you to the jet late at night, you fall asleep on luke's shoulder but not before overhearing him talk about you

warnings; fluff, tired reader, team being absolute chaotic little gremlins, spencer reid (my beloved <3)

notes; i saw this and despite how ill i feel (nothing is new there, literally been dying for six months straight(not actually, just feels that way)), i was kicking my feet and giggling because STOP, i need this and want this in my life. so, i may have written a little drabble hehe, is it edited? no. is there mistakes? probably, i'm tired. but the thoughts of luke alvez never stop so enjoy

(also i made this before a case instead of after bc i just honestly, idk, i just did, so whoops but same vibes)

masterlist

It was late when you were called in for a case. You had just got home, texting Luke that you were home safe (like you always did) when Garcia called. She profusely apologised for calling you in so late but then asked you to come back. You did, without question. It wasn’t Garcia’s fault and there were lives to save; even if you were exhausted. 

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you settled into the jet. You were sat around the table. Luke was next to you and Emily and Reid were sat across from you. You all had the case files out, the laptop with Garcia on it was on the table too. Emily began to run you all through the case, preliminary discussions passing quickly without much of a word from you.

You were exhausted and your brain was lagging behind so you knew it was better to stay quiet for now. Once you were done, everyone slipped away into their own little group. Reid and Emily were discussing the case while you simply closed the case file. Luke glanced down at you.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly. You ran your hand across your face before you nodded your head but you weren’t convincing him or anyone. He gently took a hold of your wrist, resting it against the table, “Do you want a coffee?” He added after a moment. You shook your head.

“I’m fine, really,” You attempted to convince him but he wasn’t. He glanced around before his gaze returned to you, “Talk me through the background,” You requested. Luke looked at you for a moment and he eventually gave in to you. You were giving him the eyes and he couldn’t ever resist that. So, he began to read through the background that Garcia had managed to compile.

You really tried to listen but listening to Luke’s voice was calming you down. You felt the exhaustion seeping back in and you let your head rest against Luke’s arm. He - obviously - didn’t have a problem with it. Any excuse to have you close was good enough for him. He loved holding you, touching you, keeping you close.

“Did you get any of that?” He teased softly, noticing how your eyes had fallen closed. You mumbled something but he didn’t catch any of it. You were clearly exhausted and so he shuffled so that you could rest more comfortably against his shoulder, “I’ll wake you when the flight lands,” He whispered softly into your ear. You hummed happily in response before you let sleep take you.

It was hard for Emily and Reid not to notice. Reid was the first to suspect that there was something going on between the two of you but whenever he brought it up, he was shut down. But the rest of the team were catching on now.

“You know, a friendship, on average, takes 21.9 months to turn romantic,” Reid stated and Luke lifted his gaze up, cocking an eyebrow, “But you’ve been friends for nearly three years, so you’re both a statistical anomaly,” He added. Luke tried his best not to shift but it was clear that he was baffled by Reid’s sudden statistics.

“Reid,” Emily warned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Reid to talk because she did enjoy hearing him but she didn’t want to make a situation out of this right now. They had other things to worry about.

“Nothing is going on between us,” Luke responded. A scoff escaped Emily’s lips involuntarily and Luke’s head snapped towards her, “I’m letting her sleep,” He defended. Emily tried to distract herself from this conversation by looking at the case file but she was still gonna be nosy.

“You let her touch you more than anyone else on the team. You also regularly watch her while she’s working and you’re much more engaged when she speaks and you’re more likely to defend her when one of us fights against her theories. You might not have something going on but you clearly love her and she loves you,” Reid stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Luke’s eyes widened and he glanced down at you before he looked back at Reid.

“How do you know that?” Luke asked, the emotions warring in his chest as he tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Oh, she told me,” A smile appeared on his face and you bit your lip as you still rested against Luke’s shoulder. You had been asleep for a little bit but Reid and Luke speaking had roused you from the brink. You had been silently listening but Reid noticed you begin to smirk slightly.

“Stop talking about me, please,” You mumbled, your tone thick was exhaustion. Luke’s eyes widened and Reid chuckled softly, “I’m trying to get some sleep.” Luke looked down at you and then back at Reid and he seemed completely dumb-founded. He was at a loss for words. It was cute and that is why you just let yourself settle back down and go back to sleep. You needed it.

<3

[sinkovia]

Black Market: III

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Mention of sexual assault, mention of Simon Riley's canon backstory, light angst.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

A few weeks passed and with thousands of dollars now sitting in your bank account, you began to reassess the deal you had made with Simon, realizing that it wasn't as terrible as you had initially thought. Slowly, you found yourself lowering your defenses and growing more at ease in his presence and the space around you.

Simon respected your wish to not accompany him on contracts, so you found yourself reluctantly harvesting organs from someone he had killed just minutes ago. It was a grim task, but you saw it as the least you could do for him being so cooperative with your demands.

As you worked, Simon leaned against the counter, watching you tear apart the insides of the man and carefully placing his organs into iced containers. "Thought you wanted to save lives? Here you are tearing into a man I only killed minutes ago," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes at his comment.

"You offered me twenty thousand knowing I'm in desperate need of money. You're a sick man, Simon," you retorted, continuing your work without missing a beat. Simon simply smiled, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

He looked at the dead man split in half on the table and then to you, marveling at your focused precision and fast hands as you expertly took him apart.

"You think you could've brought him back?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. You smiled as you took out the last part, carefully placing his heart in the ice chest and sealing the container shut. Then, you turned to Simon, your smile lingering.

"I know I could have," you replied confidently. "But he would have been brain dead."

With that, you took off your gloves and sighed before heading up the steps to your bedroom for a much-needed shower. Simon remained in the basement, his mind swirling with questions about you. He had never cared for anyone before; his life had revolved around accepting contracts and killing people for money. 

No socializing, no interests, no curiosity for other people. But you were different. There was something about you that intrigued him, something that made him want to peel back the layers and uncover your past.

Simon formed a plan in his head to extract any sliver of information from you that would allow him to delve into your history. He needed to know what made you such a skilled doctor at such a young age, considering that medical school takes years of study and experience to achieve the level of proficiency you display. 

You were lying in bed, engrossed in the book that Simon had so graciously bought for you when the savory aroma of garlic and herbs wafted into the room.

Your stomach grumbled in response, prompting you to abandon your reading and make your way to the kitchen. Simon looked up as he set two plates down on the dining table.

"Made you dinner to make up for earlier,"

You raised a skeptical eyebrow as you surveyed the meal before you, but your doubts vanished the moment you took the first bite. "Holy shit, I didn't think you knew how to cook like this," genuine surprise evident in your tone.

A smile tugged at Simon's lips at your reaction. "Wanted to be a cook when I was younger," he admitted casually.

Which hadn’t been a lie, when he was younger he dreamed of opening his own restaurant.

Your eyebrows raised at his revelation. You hadn't expected him to be so open about himself. Relaxing into your chair, you took a sip of wine before sharing a bit of your own past. "I wanted to be a florist."

Simon's interest was piqued, finally getting a glimpse into your backstory. "Florist to surgeon? Pretty different occupations," he remarked, taking a sip of his own wine.

You laughed as you finished your glass and reached for the bottle to pour yourself more. "From a cook to a hitman?" you teased lightly.

Simon grinned in response. "Fair enough.”

Curious about what had steered him away from his childhood dream, you prodded gently, "What steered you away?"

Simon's expression shifted briefly, a flicker of memories passing through his eyes as he glanced down at his plate. "Different circumstances,"

Reflecting on your own past, you nodded in understanding. "Yeah, me too," you murmured, the weight of shared experiences hanging in the air between you.

As the evening wore on and a few more glasses of wine were shared between you and Simon, you found yourself loosening up. Eventually, you began to vent about your past jobs, particularly about a hospital where the nurses were brain dead fucks. You launched into a rant about all of them, each one seemingly worse than the last.

Simon listened intently, his grin widening as he realized the wealth of information you were unwittingly providing him. With each complaint, he mentally cataloged the names and details, knowing that he now had enough clues to get a glimpse into your past.

That night as you slept upstairs, Simon delved into the depths of the internet, scouring through various websites until he stumbled upon a list of old employers associated with your previous job. It didn't take long for him to piece together the missing parts of your identity, and soon enough, he discovered your last name.

Simon navigated through the dark web, his fingers typing in your name with a mixture of curiosity. What he found made his stomach clench.

Before him lay a website, one he was all too familiar with, an organization specializing in sex work. As he scrolled through, he saw old listings featuring you, offering your services for hire. He glanced away when he clicked on a link and saw pictures of you dressed in scant clothing, your eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

You were only a teenager, no older than seventeen.

His eyes read over an old listing offering a hefty reward for anyone who could locate and return you to them. 

It didn't even cross his mind to entertain the idea of betraying you. In his eyes, you were worth infinitely more than any sum of money or reward. As he sat there, reflecting on your past and the horrors you endured, he couldn't fathom the thought of dragging you back into that nightmarish world.

Your value to him went beyond any material gain, your skill as a doctor made you irreplaceable. And as someone who understood the pain of being used, he couldn't bear the thought of subjecting you to that kind of life again.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair, everything suddenly made sense, your reluctance to work for him, your aversion to joining him on contracts.

He hadn't expected you to be remotely tied to the black market, let alone be a victim of it. He had unknowingly brought you back to a world you were desperately trying to escape.

You find yourself unable to sleep, plagued by a throbbing headache that refuses to go away. Desperate for relief, you make your way down to the basement in search of Advil, hoping it will alleviate the pounding in your head. As you reach the last step of the basement you see simon at his desk with his back turned toward you.

Your eyes glance at the computer screen and your heart plummets.

Images of your younger self, captured and exploited, sold into a life of servitude and suffering. The shock of seeing your own face reflected back at you in such a vulnerable state leaves you reeling, the pain in your head momentarily forgotten in the wake of this unwelcome intrusion into your past.

"Happy with what you found?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, your voice tinged with bitterness. Simon's startled expression told you he hadn't anticipated your arrival, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and guilt.

"Just wanted to know who you were… wanted to know why you didn’t want to work for me," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of remorse.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the screen, the images of your younger self serving as a painful reminder of the horrors you endured.

"Sometimes people want their lives and past to be private," you murmured, your words heavy with the weight of years of suffering and trauma.

Simon knew that feeling better than anyone.

"I'm sorry," Simon offered, his apology hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

"No, you're not," you muttered bitterly, turning away and ascending the steps. As you disappeared from view, he sighed heavily, sinking back into his chair.

“Fuckin hell.”

The next morning, you found Simon waiting for you with breakfast prepared, a silent acknowledgment of his attempt to bridge the gap between you. Awkwardly, you took your seat at the table, the tension between you thick as you both ate in silence. The weight of his invasion of your privacy hung heavily in the air.

But then, as if unable to bear the tension any longer, Simon spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of his own past.

"The reason I didn't pursue my dream as a kid was because I enlisted in the military… my captain sold me out and I was captured, tortured, and used... anything to break my will and force me into blind obedience to their commands."

"I escaped," he continued, "After being buried alive and digging my way out with the jaw of the rotting corpse I was buried with. I made it home, went to therapy, and fixed my family troubles."

As he spoke, you could feel the weight of his trauma, the scars etched into his very being. "My teammates were also captured, but they were brainwashed. When I returned home one night, I found my family dead, my former team being responsible for their deaths. I hunted them down with the help of the black market and killed them. Since then, I've remained in this line of work.."

You sat there in stunned silence, his words sinking in like heavy stones in a pond. Simon continued to eat as if what he had just revealed was just another fact of life.

In that moment, you realized he already knew so much about your past; perhaps it was time to lay it all bare. With a heavy heart, you met his gaze, finding a shared understanding in the depths of his eyes.

“I was seventeen when a few men broke into my house one night, dragged me and my parents into the living room, and made me watch as they tortured my dad and had their way with my mom before killing the both of them.”

Your focus shifted to the small droplets of water falling against the side of your cup, each one mirroring the weight of the memories you carried.

“I was sold around before I made my way to the organization you were looking at last night. There was a group of us, we were sold to different men for our services.” The room fell silent as you paused, your gaze dropping to your lap for a few moments.

Simon, ever perceptive, sensed your discomfort in revisiting those painful moments from your past. “You don't have to talk about it, love,” he said gently, his voice carrying an understanding tone. “I understand—”

“A lot of the girls were rebellious, so they would get taught lessons,” you cut him off, your voice carrying the weight of each painful memory.

“That's where I learned how to patch up the girls with very little supplies. The man in charge noticed, so he made me start patching up the men who worked for him.” You picked at the skin around your nails as you furrowed your brows. Simon’s gaze never left you, his eyes bouncing over your facial expressions.

“Their injuries weren’t just simple scratches and cuts. They would get stabbed, or shot, and when I failed to save one of them, he made me watch as he tortured one of the girls, killing her slowly as my punishment… It happened two more times after that. I wasn't a fucking surgeon, I didn't know what I was doing.” you recounted, your now fingers picking at the hem of the place mat, the memories still haunting you.

“My lack of skill resulted in the deaths of three girls. I spent five years there, playing doctor for him when he needed it and earning him money with my services. During one of my transports for a service, the car was attacked by one of their rivals, which allowed me to escape. Now I'm here.”

The weight of those years is heavy in your voice. The barriers between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a shared understanding of the pain and suffering you both carried within you.

"I became skilled out of necessity; failure meant the death of innocent girls."

You took a deep breath before locking eyes with him. “I'm sorry about what happened to you and your family. You didn't deserve that."

You paused for a second before continuing, "I wish you never enlisted.” His brows furrowed as he studied your expression. “Why?”

“Because you’d be working at some restaurant, and I would have never met you or been dragged back into this business.” Simon exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair.

“You're safe here. We're nowhere near Russia, and if someone tried to fulfill the contract, I’d be here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows, your voice tinged with confusion. “What contract?”

“There’s an eight hundred thousand dollar contract open to whoever can deliver you back to Finn.” Your expression twisted with disgust at the mention of his name, recalling the fear he instilled in you for years.

“When was the contract posted?” Simon shook his head. “Years ago.” You nodded slowly as you picked at your food with your fork.

“I'm sorry, for digging into your past and dragging you back into this, you didn’t deserve that. If you want to leave you can.”  You smiled and scoffed, “And pass up a free bodyguard, free five-star meals, and easy money? Yeah right.” Simon laughed and you smiled.

“Resourceful girl.”

“What can I say.” 

You finished off your breakfast with a comfortable silence and some light back and forth about a new contract Simon was thinking about accepting. Simon picked up both plates and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher.

“A colleague of mine is coming in two weeks or so, he’s going to help me with a contract.” 

You hummed and nodded your head, “Where is he going to stay?”

Simon grabbed a bowl of fruit out of the fridge and started picking at it. “He’s staying here.” You furrowed your brows and leaned against the counter next to Simon, your arm grazing his slightly as you reached for a strawberry in the bowl.

He watched as you brought the plump strawberry to your lips, looking away before you glanced back up at him. “What’s he like?”

“Don’t worry, you're safe around him, he is Scottish though.” You lifted your brow as you looked up at him, “Is being Scottish bad?”

“Bastard will talk your ear off.” 

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[mirrorballpages]

"How long was I gone? It felt like hours…" she asked softly.

"Eight minutes and forty-two seconds," Nuala said crisply, her precision as sharp as ever.

Azriel sighed, helping Elain to her feet. "Let’s get you to bed. You need to rest."

"No, no, I’m fine. I was in the middle of pruning—" Elain started to protest, but Azriel cut her off gently.

"You can prune the roses tomorrow," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Right now, you need sleep. And food." He turned to the twins. "Nuala, grab the food. Cerridwen, put away her gardening tools and bring up a pitcher of water."

Elain huffed softly but didn’t argue further, leaning on Azriel’s arm as he guided her out of the garden. She insisted she was fine, but her steps were uneven, her exhaustion obvious. Azriel was just grateful he didn’t have any pressing tasks that day—and that Rhys and Feyre wouldn’t be back for a few hours. As they reached the staircase, Elain hesitated briefly, her grip tightening on his arm. "Fine," she muttered reluctantly, "but only a quick nap. I have plenty to do today."

Azriel didn’t bother responding, knowing she would pass out the moment her head hit the pillow. He held her steady as they ascended the stairs, Nuala following close behind. When they reached her door, Azriel paused, unsure if he should go inside. Her room—it felt too intimate, too personal. He’d never brought anyone into his own room at the House of Wind, and he wondered if she would feel the same way about her space.

But Elain simply pushed the door open and pulled him in without hesitation. Azriel’s breath caught.

The room was her. Every inch of it a reflection of the warmth and light she carried within her.

Large windows overlooked the garden, sunlight filtering in and casting soft glows across the floral bedding on her wide, inviting bed. The walls were lined with shelves brimming with books and trailing ivy, as though she’d brought the garden indoors. A wooden desk held a neatly arranged chessboard and a stack of papers, and fresh flowers adorned every available surface. The faint scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the air, mingling with the freshness of the blooms.

His gaze caught on the poetry book he had given her, sitting prominently on her nightstand. The sight of it, clearly cherished, sent a strange, warm ache through his chest. Before he could dwell on it too long, Nuala took Elain’s arm. "Let’s get you out of this dress and into something more comfortable."

"No, no, I’m fine. I’ll just lie down," Elain mumbled, already crawling onto the bed, her apron still tied around her waist.

Azriel stepped forward, carefully untangling the ties of her apron. "Let me get this for you," he murmured, leaning over her.

"Oh, yes, thank you," she said softly, her voice heavy with sleep.

As he leaned closer, untying the knots at her waist, her breath hitched. He froze for half a second, the proximity suddenly electric, his heart pounding in his chest. He swore her gaze flicked up to his. But then Nuala coughed, and the moment shattered. Azriel stepped back, holding the soil-stained apron in his hands. "I’ll let you rest," he said, his voice calm despite the storm brewing inside him. He nodded to Nuala as he turned to leave. "I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Rhys and I have a meeting later, but I’ll stay here until then."

"Thank you, Azriel," Elain said softly, already nestled under the covers. Her long hair spilled across the pillows, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Azriel lingered for a moment longer than he should have, his shadows still swirling around her protectively. And then, with one last glance, he left, following Nuala out the door.

When they reached the kitchen, Cerridwen was waiting for them, her expression tight with concern.

"So..." Cerridwen began, her voice steady but laced with unease.

"I’ll see if Clotho has found any new books, especially around Earthvein," Azriel interrupted, his tone sharp, already forming a plan. "Maybe it can help us figure out what happened."

Cerridwen nodded but extended her hand, the faint scars along her wrist and thumb catching the light. The sight made Azriel’s jaw tighten.

"It was terrifying, Az. One minute she was talking to Nuala, the next, she was out—her eyes were white. And the thorns... as half-wraiths, we’re not supposed to scar," Cerridwen said, her voice faltering as she traced the pale lines on her skin. "It wasn’t just a thorn—there was magic inside."

"She’s much more powerful than anyone gives her credit for," Nuala added quietly, her agreement clear in the firm nod of her head.

Azriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know. But until she’s ready to talk to Rhys and Feyre about it, all we can do is be there for her." His voice dropped, edged with frustration—not at them, but at himself, for not having answers. For not being able to help Elain as she stumbled through a world she wasn’t ready for. "Let me know if it ever happens again, even if I’m away. Write down when it happens, how long it lasts, anything you can. I want to see if there’s a pattern."

Because there had to be a pattern. There always was. Even with magic, there were connections—threads he could trace, piece together, understand.

Nuala hesitated, then glanced at Cerridwen. "You know, the reason her magic didn’t hurt you is probably because—"

Azriel held up a hand, cutting her off. "That’s not a conversation I’m ready to have. And neither is she." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

But he knew. He knew exactly what Nuala and Cerridwen thought—and he hated how much it aligned with his own suspicions. Ever since he’d first laid eyes on Elain, his shadows had been drawn to her, her light. Her warmth. It was a thought he buried deep, an answer he wasn’t ready to face. Not yet.

Cerridwen rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Fine. But you know you’re going to have to talk to her about it eventually. And The High Lord and High Lady. And definitely Nesta." She smirked knowingly. "Because we both know she’ll have your head on a platter if you don’t tell her everything. I’m surprised she hasn’t killed Lucien for just existing yet."

Azriel huffed, his wings twitching slightly at the mention of Lucien. "He’s quite lucky he decided to run off with his ‘Band of Exiles,’ as I hear he’s calling it." The words dripped with sarcasm, his disdain clear.

Ridiculous name, he thought. Yes, Lucien was useful—his work with Jurian and Vassa provided crucial information—but Azriel couldn’t stomach the thought of him being Elain’s mate. Because if Elain were his... he would never have left her side.

Azriel shook the thought away, focusing on the present. "Check in on her in a few hours, okay? If Rhys and Feyre come home early and she’s still asleep, we’ll just say she has a headache. Make sure she eats when she wakes up. I’ll be in the front room working." He turned on his heel, shadows pooling at his feet as his mind raced. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. Whatever was happening to Elain, whatever her magic was trying to tell them, he would figure it out. He had to.

Read The Rest on AO3

[worthyprnce]

i saw this post and I had an idea (for a fic maybe?) but I don't have the time for it right now, so I'll try to summarize it. I also don't even know if this will make sense or if anyone else will see my vision, but anyway... (I'm also going to ignore the premise of stopping a wedding because it's the love of you life's wedding, I'm going to give merlin another reason)

arthur is about to marry a random princess. uther continues to insist on bringing princesses from allied kingdoms for his son to marry, to form powerful alliances and ensure heirs. and, after so many discussions, uther managed to convince his son to a marriage of convenience, which broke the hearts of both arthur and gwen, the true love of the prince's life.

merlin knows that this marriage shouldn't happen, it simply can't happen, and he was determined to stop it, even if he had to take drastic measures. not only because he's the number one arwen shipper we have in the show, but because he and gaius discovered that it was just another plan by the princess's father to overtake the throne of camelot. so he runs, desperate, to the church where the wedding would take place, his eyes wide, his lungs pulsing against his chest, heavy and tired.

his magic was agitated because his body,mind, soul and heart were agitated, so when he opened the doors of the cathedral and shouted with all his strength "I OBJECT!", the last thing he expected to see was a collection of pairs of unknown eyes and a decorated coffin in the middle of the people instead of arthur and his future wife. in fact, the last thing he was really expecting was to see the deceased slowly rise from his coffin, dazed like a hangover, scratch his eyes and look around, confused.

some women screamed, but it didn't seem to be out of fear, it seemed more like irritation, as if they had been caught in an old prank once again. but what really made the deceased come to his senses, were the angry cries of "you scoundrel! there's no use playing dead, gwaine, you'll pay my money!"

that was what made the deceased, gwaine it seemed, get up, his energy renewed, and run away, tripping over flowers and candles while merlin remained standing in front of the door without understanding what had really happened, stunned and lost.

gwaine ran out, passing merlin like lightning, and merlin had to run after him, because now the resurrected man's collectors were thinking that merlin was part of his plot. which wasn't true, but merlin needed to understand what had happened. there was no way merlin could have unintentionally used his magic to bring someone back to life, right? there was no way, he would know if he could do it. but he needed to get this straight.

the two ran to a hidden alley, where they caught their breath.

"what the fuck was that?" merlin asked.

"and do I know? one minute I had a knife in my heart, the next I was at peace and then I saw you like in a dream and now I'm here." gwaine replied. "I think I really should stop drinking, for a minute I thought I was dead and you brought me back. like an angel or something. you sure do look like one."

merlin didn't know what to say, so he stared at gwaine for a few seconds while the latter's mind calculated the events.

"I died. I died, I'm sure I died, I was cold and weak and when I woke up we were in a church, I was in a coffin." gwaine said, finally merlin was afraid that he would need to find some quick and plausible excuse in case gwaine threatened him. he didn't know that man and didn't know what his reaction would be to someone using magic, even if it was to bring him back to life.

that's why merlin was very surprised when gwaine hugged him tightly.

"man, you literally brought me back from death! ha! I can't believe that really happened, I owe you a huge debt now. let's have a drink, we can get to know each other better and you can tell me about these jesus-like acts of yours."

merlin's mind was racing, he almost didn't notice the sound of the church bell, the right church to stop arthur's wedding.

"listen. if you want to repay me for something, give me your word that you won't tell anyone. I brought you back to life, I can kill you again, I know your name and I for sure can find you anywhere" merlin said, pointing his finger at gwaine and trying to sound intimidating. gwaine smirked and raised his hands.

"oh, I wouldn't be that stupid," he replied.

"apparently you're only stupid enough to get yourself into too much debt."

"it's a complicated life, you know how it goes." gwaine's smile was too wide and playful for someone who had only been dead for a few minutes, but it was a beautiful smile, and merlin couldn't help but notice it.

"yeah, sure… uh..." merlin shook his head, as if that would put his thoughts in place "okay then, it was nice meeting you, but I need to run now."

"wait!" gwaine grabbed merlin by the wrist before he could even take a step "I don't even know your name, and that can't be all that you need from me. I don't have much, as it's already obvious... but I can be useful. I'll do anything, you literally gave me my life back. please, let me repay you somehow. I'm serious." merlin thought for a few seconds, the church bell ringing in his ears, the weight of a wedding that wasn't even his on his shoulders, his best friend's broken heart, the fate of an entire kingdom. merlin sighed. "whatever, what else do I have to lose?" he thought to himself

"I'm merlin, and I need your help to stop a wedding."