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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

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Our Girl – Part 4

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: Smut [18+, minors DNI]

You stared at the gold invitation, cursive writing announcing Cresseida to be wed in a months time. And there was your name printed, Y/N and partners. You had scoffed when you first saw it – maybe in another life.

You were chewing your lip, lost in thought on whether to attend or not. You knew at the least, Rhys and Feyre would attend the wedding – that meant seeing them. And word would surely spread of your work at Spring Court once you got to chatting to other guests – that would reveal your location.

“Whats bothering you, young spark?” Finbark asked from the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables as a pot of stew boiled behind him. He looked up briefly, spotting the invitation in your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of not attending?”

“I don't want to risk what I have here.”

“Y/N, everything you’ve worked for is already yours. Your home here, your work, even your privacy, no one can take that away from you now, not even a High Lord or Lady.”

“I know, you’re right. It’s just… I've so enjoyed my little bubble away from everything that happened. Seeing them… they made me feel so small Fin, so helpless. I don't know if I can stand going through that again.”

“So much has happened since then. Look at all you’ve done, all you’ve accomplished. Thousands of fae, gods, even the entire damn court is mending thanks to you. You were never small, and you have proven that to yourself over and over again.”

A wobbly smile jerked at your lips, tears pricking in your eyes. He wiped his hands, leaving the vegetables to come cup your face, brushing away your tears.

“You cannot lock yourself in Spring Court forever, sweetheart. Don't punish yourself for their mistakes, expand your horizons, celebrate with friends that are equally yours as they are theirs. And celebrate yourself, you deserve that even more.”

You reached for your uncle’s rippled hand, holding it tight. “Thank you, Finbark. You mean the world to me.”

“And you me, young spark.”

So it was decided. You would attend the wedding, without any partners.

————

“Where are we going?” you called from Podie, Tamlin a few paces ahead on his own horse. He was leading you through a trail you weren't familiar with.

“For the umpteenth time Y/N, it’s a surprise.” He called back without turning his head.

You let out an audible sigh, to which Tamlin chuckled. You did your best not to admire his ass as he straddled a horse – it helped neither of you how handsome Tamlin looked in his riding clothes. You pressed your heels to Podie, coming to trot beside him.

“You should know I hate surprises,” you sang.

“Even the good kind? What a shame,” Tamlin responded, clearly not letting up on where he was taking you. You poked your tongue out, earning another chuckle.

It had been several months since your first dinner with Tamlin, and you had fallen into a comfortable pattern with the High Lord. You enjoyed a regular drink or meal together when your work crossed paths, and he had even consulted you on advice for his court, which flattered you. His company was a consistent pleasure, and you treasured the friendship you had formed – the Gods knew you needed it.

You managed to bite your tongue for another twenty minutes, and just as you were about to pester him again, Tamlin spoke. “It’s just up this trail.”

Pulling the reins of his horse, Tamlin led you down a steep path, hidden much by overhanging trees and bushes, only to reveal a clearing.

No, not a clearing – a field, blossoming with rows of carefully planted pink flowers. And as you got closer, the size of the field was revealed, bordered by a low wooden fence. It was… a farm?

You drew in an audible breath as the scent of the flowers hit you. You widened your eyes at Tamlin, who was grinning at your shock. You dismounted Podie quickly, rushing to brace the fence as you took in the site with awe.

“Wild Gernaium?” you choked, your eyes still wide.

“The healing flower,” Tamlin nodded. “It took a while to learn how to farm them, months in fact, but Spring has Prythians best botanists.”

“And here I thought they could only grow in the wild,” you shook your head with disbelief. “Tamlin, these are so rare, how on earth you were able to farm this many?”

“Spring Court is a land that gives back, the soil here is rich of nutrients and the weather forgiving. It is of course only something we were able to do, thanks to your mission work to help recover the land. This is your accomplishment as much as it is theirs.”

Tears pricked in your eyes then. The amount of fae that could be helped with this crop – it was an overwhelming thought.

“And they are for you, of course.”

You gaped at the High Lord, who laughed again.

“For me?”

“Of course, for your work. Whatever you need – farmers to pick the flowers, a factory full of workers to grind and bottle the pigment – say the word and it’s yours.”

“Tamlin, I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Please, don’t. It’s not a thanks I deserve, I’m just… trying to look out for my people. Just as you do.”

“Well… you’ve done a Gods damned good job,” you said with raised brows, blowing out a loose breath at the extend of the farm.

Tamlin threw his head back and laughed, and you grinned at his happiness. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Nice work, High Lord.”

Tamlin squeezed your hand back. “It wouldn't be without you.”

He pulled on your hand then, leading you through the flowers as you admired the plants up close. He explained that a factory could be built at the farms edge, attached with a pressing mill and grinders. Your heart fluttered with excitement, your work could extend past manual labour, you could now offer medicine and healing. There was a force brewing inside you, something unstoppable and good, something that lay dormant for centuries, finally unleashed and free.

You still held Tamlin’s hand as he lead you through the field, making your way to a lush hill that overlooked the farm. You sat together, Tamlin listening contently as you excitedly spoke through your ideas on how to harvest the medicine, noting that your small growing team of mission workers could also help to distribute throughout the court.

“How many aid workers have you recruited now?” Tamlin asked.

“Seven, and we’re currently inducting Nyvya in the east. She’s a trained healer, so will be delighted to hear of the Gernaium.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiled.

“It is,” you said warmly, and it occurred to you that you owed Tamlin a truth. An idea you were planning to run by him at a much later time. But with the offer of the Gernaium, the access to this kind of healing, that changed things. “It is,” you repeated almost flatly, chewing at your lip as your eyes fell distant, dancing with thought.

Tamlin caught the movement, and he frowned slightly as he shifted from his lounging position. “What is it?”

Your heart rose in anticipation – you felt sheepish. So you stared at him, deciding on whether it was in fact the right time.

“You can say it – whatever it is,” he said gently, taking your hand. Your silence lead him to start guessing. “Are you leaving Spring?”

“No, no I–”

“Because you are free to come and go as you please. I know my past behaviour speaks for itself, but I would hate to think that you feel trapped or–”

You grabbed his shoulders then, squeezing the muscle underneath. “Tamlin, gods I know that.”

The action seemed to stun him, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You felt a slight twang of guilt for drawing out such a distinct shame in him.

You took a deep breath, pulling your hands to your lap. “With the mission work expanding, along with my team, we have been able to help fae at the borders, some from Summer, even a few from Autumn.”

Tamlin nodded assuringly, a sign for you to continue. He didn't startle over the technicality of Spring members helping foreign fae – that was a good sign.

“And it felt good to help them Tam, they were isolated, and just as vulnerable as some of those in Spring.”

“Of course,” he said softly.

You had to take a deep breath, and your eyes found the horizon beyond the rolling hills around you.

“You know,” you spoke softly. “My ambitions to help and protect others, it has always existed beyond court borders.”

You could see Tamlin shift, before giving a slow nod.

“After talking with my team, we believe our mission work could gain traction in other courts, should they be willing. We could share knowledge, resources too if it was agreed, and provide aid across Prythian without being conformed to borders.”

You forced your eyes to Tamlin then, grimacing at what you might find written on his face. But it was just as neutral, his eyes soft, his jaw chiselled and handsome and – damn him.

“This is not the way I wanted to propose this to you Tamlin, please know. Especially after your generosity with the Gernaium, I understand completely if you have grown them purely to aid your own subjects. But that doesn't stop the need for mission work across Prythian. I plan to gain the support from as many High Lords and Ladies as possible, and I would be honoured if that started with you.”

Tamlin eyed you with those sharp green eyes, the kind of look that made you shift under the weight of it. And after an insufferable silence, he spoke.

“You are incredible.”

You blinked in shock, Tamlin’s lips pulling at your reaction.

“Truly,” he smiled, grabbing your hand to kiss it. “I have never met anyone who was to see a need as great as this, and think to grow it beyond borders. Magic anchors a High Lord or Lady to their Court, it makes us territorial and protective, violent even. But you, this,” he said waving his hand to you, before sighing, contemplating how to say what he felt in words. “You are what this world needs.”

Your eyes welled before two fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “Tamlin,” you chocked, unable to think of anything else to say.

He shifted closer, brushing the tears away with his thumb as he cupped your face. “You have my support Y/N. Thank you for teaching me to be better.”

Emotion surged through you, as if flushing you from years of doubt and hate, replaced now with inspiration, kindness and good, honest love. And then your lips were on his.

Taken aback, Tamlin caught himself on one strong arm as you held his face and kissed him. You pulled away, worried to have overstepped your boundaries. But then a strong hand laced around your waist, his other propping himself up as he leaned in, closing his mouth over yours, a sharp breath drawn as his nose brushed against your. Friendship, understanding, a blossoming love – how quickly Tamlin had welcomed you to a world capable of healing, of growth.

Every fibre in your limbs begged to be closer to him, to bask in the vulnerability he had shown you, and you him. In only half a year, you had grown together, healed together, and learned to love one another. You did, you loved him, for whatever he was to you – a dear friend, a High Lord, it didn't matter. It was equal, and genuine, and you craved it in every way.

Fuelled in by dizzy passion, you quickly straddled his lap, pulling at his broad shoulders to bring him further into you, letting him encompass your senses.

Tamlin’s own hands slid across your back, moving up to your neck, gripping at the roots of your hair, the other grasped at the flesh where your thighs met your hips.

He seemed to realise where this was heading, pulling away with a sharp breath through his nose. “Y/N–”

You shook your head, dismissing him immediately with another kiss, your tongue begging for entrance to his mouth. “Tamlin.” His name was a plea.

“Are you cer–?”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question, peppering kissed in between words. “I’ve–never–been–more–certain.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and goosebumps pricked at your skin as you felt it vibrate through to you. Your excitement peaked, it had been so long since you had shared yourself with another, and your core fluttered with anticipation as every fragment of you seemed to chant yes, yes, yes.

Which is exactly what you moaned as Tamlin entered you, your skirts pulled high, his riding pants pulled low. You placed a flat palm on his chest, your eyes clenched shut as you stretched around his girth, your walls already throbbing as you slowly slid down. Tamlin let out a stifled growl, one laced with satisfaction and a lot of restraint.

Strong arms hugged you then, and you began to writhe together, moving gently and sensually as you ground against each other. Chasing release was far beyond you, there was so much pleasure to be had in sharing your bodies, relishing in the trust you both had found in one another.

Tamlin did his best to keep a leash if his instincts, his beast form begging to be released and he grunted and growled when you moved your hips in a certain way, nipping at your neck and ear as claws now ran down your back. You ran your fingers through his hair, using it to guide his face to yours as you kissed him and fucked him how you pleased. His own hands moved to grip at your ass to do the same.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his deep voice breaking, strained with pleasure.

“Tamlin, gods, you feel–”

“So. Good,” he gritted, finishing your sentence. You leaned back, head thrown back as your hands found balance on his thighs as you rode him in the warm spring air.

Pleasure found both of you again and again in that afternoon. You climaxed on his lap, and not twenty minutes later he was pushing into you again, your bare thighs spread on the lush green grass as he moved above you. You clung together, a writhing, sweaty mix of passion and pleasure until the sun began to set over the rolling hills.

Tamlin reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours as you ate the last of the berries he had packed. He kissed your forehead before turning you to rest against his chest, not wanting you to miss the view.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your hair.

Stroking his arms that were tightly wrapped at your waist, you swallowed, debating on what to say. But no, Tamlin deserved the truth, you must always choose truth. You sighed , saddened by what was churning through your head after such incredible sex.

“I’m thinking we need to discuss what this afternoon means.”

You loved him, you did, but Tamlin was bound to his court, and your life called beyond it. It wouldn't work, no matter how much you cared for each other.

Tamlin knew this too. “What if,” he spoke softly, brushing your hair away from your neck so he could place a gentle kiss on it. “What if we enjoy this moment for what it is, just for today.”

You smiled, kissing his hands. “Tomorrow then.”

“Plenty of problems await,” he joked, and you laughed before settling further into him. You smiled cockily as you felt him harden against you. Tomorrow indeed.

————

One month later

Peering from the carriage window, your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the clap of horses hooves as guests arrived at the summer estate, music floating gently from within.

Dawned in all colours, you watched guests gasp in awe at the beauty of the building. This was one of many of Tarquin’s estates - one you had never visited. It was an open, grecian style home, golden columns holding the impressive entrance carved with shimmering vines. Fae flocked in groups, sparkling wine already in their hands as they made their way to the gardens, no doubt where the service was being held.

“Are you alright?” Tamlin asked, the velvet of his deep green suit brushing against your bare arm.

“Uneasy to say the least,” you said thickly, your tongue stiff with nerves. “And you?”

Tamlin looked beyond the window, eyeing each of the guests. “One step at a time,” was his response as he squeezed your knee.

————

The curtesy wine offered to you at the entrance was gone within the first few moments of arriving. You wouldn't make a fool of yourself here, but a little wine to take the edge off couldn't hurt.

Tarquin stood proudly, wearing a fine turquoise suit detailed with gold thread, shaking hands as he welcomed guests.

“Y/N,” he beamed, taking your hands and kissing each of your cheeks. “I’m honoured you came.”

“The pleasure is mine, Tarquin. Thank you for having me.”

“Nonsense, both Creseida and I might have forced you here if you had not come willingly.”

You laughed freely. “How is she?”

“A wreck of nerves,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure she looks beautiful,” you laughed lightly back.

“She does, just as you do,” he winked, raising your hands he still held to take in your dress. A silken, soft blue dress fell of your body, its back open as material gathered just before your rear. The dressmaker had done an incredible job, fitting style and colour alike. You had politely declined her suggestions of a sage green, a Spring Court signature. It was kind, but you were courtless for over a year now, and proud of it. Instead, you had asked for sky blue – as no one ruled the skies.

Blushing, you let out another soft laugh. “You are too kind, High Lord.”

Tarquins eyes flashed behind you, catching Tamlin as he spoke with some familiars a few paces away. “Have you…?” he questioned, trailing off.

You smiled knowingly. “I’ve come alone. Tamlin and I shared a carriage, journeying from the same court. You remember of my work there?”

“Remember? Sweetheart, there is talk of your mission throughout my court. There are guests here who are very keen to meet you. And we will need to formally discuss your work, and give a proper thanks to the aid you have provided at the border.”

You were smiling wide now, shaking your head with gratitude. “I would like that too, but perhaps not here.”

Tarquin grinned. “No, perhaps not. Welcome, sweet Y/N, please enjoy the festivities, and accomodation.”

You smiled politely as Tamlin approached, exchanging a firm handshake before raising his brows at you. “Shall we head in?��

Nodding tightly, you let Tamlin guide you with a hand at the small of your back. At the very least, the warmth of his skin against yours was a small comfort.

The estate was even more impressive the further you ventured, white marble and golden staircases twisting this way and that, leading to corridors of rooms, each door carved to perfection. These were the guest accomodations, and included your own for the evening.

But the jewel of the home was its view, where a perfectly groomed garden now catered to almost a thousand fae, overlooking the crystal blue Adriatic, the waves beneath crashing the cliff quieted by the string quartet. It was an overwhelming beautiful home, and you were glad to be lost in a sea of guests.

A golden arch was set at the end of a the aisle, a High Priestess exchanging words with a groom you did not recognise. But you smiled – you were happy for Creseida.

“An impressive turnout,” Tamlin muttered, sipping his wine as his green eyes turned sharp, scanning the crowd. You ignored the glances being cast your way, whether it was from your attendance with Tamlin, or Tamlin’s presence alone, you didn't care. What did these fools know of either of your stories to judge.

And you tried not to look, to not let your heart beat fast as you scoured for a rare set of wings amongst the finery of the wedding, telling yourself you wouldn’t turn your heel and run at the site of any siphons or shadows or night. But you were thankful to not find any.

That was, until you felt them. Muscles jerking, goosebumps pricked your skin as your power began to tingle sharply, spreading across your body like a rash. Shit – you hadn't anticipated to lose your lid in such a way, your power had been so forgiving this past year.

A small gap parted in the crowd of guests at the stairs of the estate, and the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were revealed. Arms loop, night curling around them in the fashion that impressed and threatened all at once. Rhysand shook hands with a nearby male, Feyre kissing the cheeks of a curtsying female.

It shocked you, how quickly your spy instincts found you. As if in one of your many life-threatening missions, your senses narrowed, the noise in your brain focusing to immediate details – taking in only what you needed to survive, just as Azriel and Cassian had trained you. Your vision barrelled to the couple who still greeted others some distance away. Scanning behind them, you anticipated the remainder of your old family, and of course, your exes.

Yet no one followed. Not even Mor. It seemed the High Lord and Lady had attended alone. It was strange – had things turned bad at the Court, that even the Morrigan had forgone a wedding?

Rhysand wore a handsome smile as he guided Feyre down the stairs to the garden, guests parting even further, bowing as they strode through. They were getting closer, and you ignored the clench of your heart as their scent filled your nose, before mixing with others. It was the smell of home.

No. it wasn't home. Not anymore, and not for a good while now. You hated that instinct, to curl into it, to let it welcome you, claiming you still.

You glanced behind, conscious that they would find you standing with Tamlin. But he was no where to be seen, and you thanked him silently for the courtesy of having stepped away.

Rhysand and Feyre glided closer and closer, exchanging nods and accepting bows. And then they halted, violet eyes scanning before locking to yours, grey eyes shortly followed. And Rhys’s smile, the one that he used in the face of the public, it softened, his eyebrows twitching upwards almost unnoticeably.

Feyre’s hand gripping at his arm tighter, and you could hear her heart fasten from where you stood. You almost resented how in-tune you were to them, these micro-behaviours.

Glancing between them both, you followed the order of those next to you, lowering yourself to a polite curtsy.

They couldn't reach you, not without drawing attention, not without the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests. So with a nod from Rhys, and a soft smile from Feyre, they continued on, finding their seats in the queues.

————

Cresseida was the most beautiful bride you had ever seen. Golden vines were cuffed along her arms, as a silk gown as white as her hair trailed behind her as she walked the aisle, Tarquin proudly at her side.

You smiled through your tears as she was married. You were happy for her– you were happy –you were… An unmarketable emotion filled you as you couldn’t help the run of tears that continued to pour, even after the ceremony ended.

————

“And is it true that you were able to help the children at the border?” questioned one of Tarquin’s emissaries as she leaned in, raising her voice over the music.

The party was in full swing, food had been served and hundreds of fae drank and danced, celebrating Creseida’s courtship, each of them eager to get even a glimpse at the bride and groom.

“Yes, we were lucky to have an experienced healer join the mission, and she was already aiding some of the fae in Spring.”

The female smiled, and squeezed your arm. “On behalf of my court, we are grateful.”

“Not at all,” you smiled back. “Your authorities were notified, and from what I heard your own healers were already on their way. We were simply closer to that area, and had supplies to spare.”

It had been hours, and your company was still in high demand as endless Summer Court members were eager to meet you. Tarquin, it seemed, had been spreading you just as much praise as Tamlin. You had danced with many, exchanging jokes and stories, enjoying the festivities with some familiar faces and many new ones.

It was a struggle to keep your eyes from averting, your instinct to find Rhys and Feyre in the crowd was loud and stubborn. Old habits, you supposed.

Tamlin approached you then, having made himself scarce from your company for most of the evening, something you both had agreed to do. But you were comforted by his presence as he easily slid into the conversation, slipping a glass of fae wine into your hand without even asking. You smiled, giving his shoulder a thankful squeeze.

There was an itchy, uneasy feeling that tugged at you, and you knew you were under watchful eyes. You found them, surrounded by their own acquaintances, and while Rhys masked his curiosity perfectly, Feyre’s stare bored into you from across the dance floor.

Taking a large sip of wine, you let it warm you as you squared your shoulders. You would not cower, you would not shy away. And now was a better time than any.

So you strode directly to them, Feyre’s stare softening as Rhys pardoned himself from his conversation. Then, they were walking towards you to.

You stopped a few paces shy from each other. Staring. It was…. awkward.

But then Rhysand smiled. Warm and genuine and familiar. You hoped he didn't hear your silent curse to him.

“You look well,” he said.

You nodded, acknowledging the half-compliment, sensing their relief. No, you weren't that broken withered girl you were when you left.

“How is Nyx?” The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them. You would have been more annoyed at yourself, but your care for that child was pure, and you knew they would never withhold him as currency.

“He’s well, growing every day,” Feyre replied. “And walking all on his own.”

Your smile, be it small, was sincere.

“He still… asks about you,” she added.

Pain sliced through your heart then, and you weren't quick enough to hide it in your face. “Don’t,” you whispered, your voice strained. Gods, that didn't take long.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quickly, hands reaching out before she quickly drew them back in. “I didn't mean–“ she cut herself short, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

You cast your eyes to the side, blinking away the sting of tears. “It’s alright.”

Rhysand watched you intently. “Perhaps we can all use some fresh air? I spotted a terrace, free from other guests.”

The choice was yours, you knew that. You had things you wanted to say, and you were sure they did to. You nodded, following their lead as you quickly cast a look backwards, Tamlin offering you a tight nod as you left the room.

————

“So, mission work in Spring?” Rhys asked, wine swirling in his hand as he leaned casually against a column, warm summer breeze surrounding the three of you as the party continued faintly below.

You nodded, your arms crossed at your chest.

“It’s very impressive,” Feyre added from where she sat, offering a genuine smile.

You didn't respond, unsure of how much detail to reveal. Rhysand caught on, sighing slightly.

“We didn't bring you here to interrogate you for detail, It’s only that your work and whereabouts is quickly becoming widespread knowledge. We thought it was best to acknowledge that we know it too.”

“And what of Cassian and Azriel?”

“We have held true to our bargain on that.” You believed him.

There was an award silence, unasked questions looming.

“Are you safe there?” Feyre asked quietly.

“Very much so.”

“And Tamlin is–”

“A friend,” you said quickly.

“– respectful to you, was what I was going to ask,” Feyre said with a knowing look.

You sighed then, running a hand through your hair. “I didn't do it to hurt you,” you said, with a straight face. You owed her no allegiance, but, you were done hurting others, and her concern did no one any good.

“I know,” Feyre acknowledged, with the grace of a High Lady, of someone who knew that the past was the past. She shook her head then, before adding. “We worry for you, that is all.”

“He’s changed.” You were shocked at how quickly those words left your mouth.

It was Rhys who threw you a condescending look. You hated how small it made you feel.

“Look, I appreciate your warning, but Tamlin has shown strides of growth, he has acknowledged his mistakes and is working endlessly to undo them. When was the last time you looked within yourselves?”

Rhys flashed his eyes at you with warning, bringing an arm to comfort his wife. “Careful,” he said plainly, but a flash of darkness passed through those violet eyes.

Damn him. And damn Feyre too. “You didn’t so much as try to stop them,” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears as you focused on her. Gods damn it – you thought you were past this, past them. But it was as if a year away meant nothing, you were just as hurt as that night you left the Night Court. Feyre watched with a pain expression as your lip wobbled. “And you didn't so much as try to apologise,” you whispered, your voice moments away from breaking.

Feyre’s eyes now glistened with the same tears. “You shut us out,” she countered, and you could see how much your own choices had wounded her.

“What choice did I have?” you asked, brushing away a stray tear. “You think I want to be this way? You think I wanted to cast myself out? You broke my trust and lied to me, alienating me from this family. And I was supposed to come to you for an apology?”

Feyre gulped guiltily, looking at the floor. Rhys watched you intensely, a concerned frown on his face.

“You’re right,” Feyre said quietly, grey eyes now finding yours. “But you must know Y/N, I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since the day it happened. I thought it wise for Azriel and Cassian to want to protect you, but I realised very quickly how it was that kind of thinking that trapped me within warded walls, and that had me fleeing my home all those years ago.”

You nodded, casting your eyes upwards to not let the tears stain your face yet again. “We can't keep doing this.”

“What’s that?” Rhys asked gently.

“This,” you gulped, waving your hands between you. “These sorry confessions and apologies, it hurts us all.”

“Alright,” Rhys said neutrally. “But you acknowledge our apology?’

“Yes.”

“Do you forgive us?”

Your lips pressed tight as you grimaced.

“That would be a no,” Rhys said sadly, his smile broken. Feyre couldn't force one if she wanted to.

“I want us to move forward,” you offered instead. “There is no use in resentment. It may be that we’ll continue to cross paths, and it is important to me that you know I will not respond illy.”

“Of course,” Feyre nodded, smiling.

A sharp pain throbbed at your temples then, the kind that came about when you had to keep your emotions and powers under tight strain. It was instinct to rub at your temples.

“Can I heal that for you?” Rhys was now standing in front of you, his smile remained but his eyes – heavy, saddened.

You blinked up at him before flicking your eyes to Feyre who waited eagerly for you to respond. Was this a test? Could it be, after all that had happened, you could consider them just…friends? You searched within yourself for the right answer, but nothing came about. It was just too soon.

But there was no harm in letting Rhys work some of his magic. “Alright,” you replied, and you heard Feyre loose a breath.

Rhysand’s hands cupped the side of your face, his fingers pressing to your temples as the familiar feeling of him slipping into your mind sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in you, something impossible to kill that was comforted by his touch. He was, after all, your High Lord of decades. He had been your home, your family, and maybe there was some part of that would always remain. It upset you how much you had to resist the urge to wrap your arms around his waist, to pull Feyre in too, to sob of how much you missed home, your family, how much you ached while you were apart.

It was over as quickly as it began, Rhys slipping from your mind, leaving no trace of a headache behind. You hadn't clocked that you had closed your eyes, your lip quivering as your cheeks were now wet with tears. Rhys kept his hands on your face, brushing them away.

“Y/N–,” he said softly, his face pained. You knew what he would say – come home, even if you hate us, come home. But you wouldn't give him a chance.

“T-thank you,” you stammered, pulling away from Rhysand’s hold and fleeing the terrace, leaving the two to their shock.

————

You were brushing away hot, fast tears as you fled the wedding, racing towards your guest room.

Gods, what was wrong with you today? You hated feeling like this – an unstable, blubbering mess. Nothing had changed in a year, not really. You were still the same, broken and alone. It hurt just as much to see your family now.

To hell with this wedding. You craved a sleep tonic and to be rid of this night. That was when Tamlin fell into side-step with you.

“Are you hurt?” he asked simply, muttering the words to avoid drawing attention as you passed through the crowd.

“No,” you managed to say, and you could have kissed him for playing into the nonchalance. He seemed to respect privacy, even when there was little to be found.

“I’ll walk you to your rooms.”

“No, Tam, I’m fine, you should–”

“Nonsense,” he replied, and you knew you wouldn't shake him. So you walked to your room, sniffing through your tears as you tried to calm the current brewing at your fingertips, Tamlin by your side.

You reached your quarters, a private corner in a long corridor or rooms. The door was carved in unique artwork, familiar somehow, as if beckoning you to enter from within.

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” he said with an unconvinced look.

“I will be, Tam, thank you.”

You gave his hand a quick squeeze, before turning the handle to the door.

And made it two paces in, before shadows filled your vision.

————

You swore as strong hands held your shoulders, blue siphons a blur as shadows cast around you. You fought on instinct, but it was impossible to shake Azriel’s grip.

“What in Mothers name–?!” you cursed again.

“You’re safe,” Azriel spoke with relief. Despite yourself, your skin ignited at the husk of his voice.

“Get your damn hands off me,” you gritted, taking in the room as the smog of shadows finally cleared.

Cassian was between you and the door, where Tamlin still stood, completely stunned. The General’s hands quickly curled into fists.

No one moved, each of you just as shocked to see the other. They had come for you, yes, but you were certain Tamlin was an unpleasant surprise.

“Fuck,” you ground out, almost rolling your eyes as you knew the strife that now awaited your friend.

Azriel moved you behind him, as if you needed to be shielded, protected. “What are you doing here, traitor?”

“Let her go at once,” Tamlin growled, stepping into the room.

You stepped out from behind Azriel, your mind reeling at the sight of the two Illyrians in you room. You hated them, but something in you churned - a yearning. It was easy to stamp down as a rage took over.

“What are you doing here?” you countered.

Azriel gave you a piercing look, running his eyes down your body. There was love in that look, but a sternness too.

“Answer me,” you ground out.

Cassian was still facing Tamlin, his siphons so bright they radiated heat. “Did you hurt her?” he growled at Tamlin, a shaking rage consuming him.

“You hunted me? Like a mare?” your voice was ice cold, colder than any of these males could ever hope to perfect. Your trust, betrayed, again.

That voice snared their attention. Cassian casting a look back at you, desperate, like he wanted to give you all of his time, to never stop drinking in the sight of you.

You prowled closer, fingers twitching as your power grew so strong zapping could be heard. “Rhys’s promise to me, the bargain. You broke it,” you spat.

“Y/N.” Cassian said your name, begging you. His pain cut through to you, your power dampening as a sick, sick part of you folded at his plea. Go to him, that part of you begged.

The room was filled with a sharp coldness and breeze as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into your quarters, Feyre’s face one of shock, Rhys’s one of fury.

“What in Gods name are you doing here?” he growled at his brothers.

“You left us no choice,” Azriel seethed back at Rhys, his wing stopping you as you silently moved to join Tamlin.

You glared at him. “Try that again,” you growled.

Azriel’s eyes were dark, predatory, but his brows pulled with a softness only reserved for you. “I do not trust him.”

“And I do not trust you,” you spat back.

“The promise,” Rhys growled, glaring between his brothers.

“Y/N, we had no idea they had come,” Feyre spoke with a desperation that you had to believe her.

“Leave. Now.” Rhys ordered, but the males ignored him, his power underwhelming in another court.

Cassian’s brow pulled, his face truly broken as he spoke to you. “You left us. And joined him?”

You snapped at the accusation. “I joined no one, because I belong to no one. I pursued a life beyond you, and I am a free female. Free to roam wherever I please, and fuck whoever I want.”

You words landed their mark, because both Azriel and Cassian recoiled.

And then Cassian’s face turned grave, as he slowly faced Tamlin again. “You-you touched her?”

You cursed yourself for the pointed insult – you should have known it would put Tamlin in the firing line. To his defense, Tamlin held a high chin.

“She is a free female. Nor you or I can rob her of that.”

Azriel snarled, and Cassian was on Tamlin in an instant.

“Stop that! Get off him! You will not hurt him!” you cried, broken at the thought of Tamlin being hurt because of you.

But before you could throw yourself at Cassian, night magic filled the space, pulling the males apart, commanding the room to its master. And you were surprised to see Feyre walking towards them, her palms outstretched, night pouring from her as her eyes now glowed with silver.

“Sensless violence ends now, I don’t care about the circumstance.”

What did she mean by that?

“Leave,” Cassian snarled at Tamlin, but Tamlin held his ground.

“He is welcomed to stay so long as Y/N sees fit,” Feyre spoke coldly, forcing Cassian’s eyes back to her. Now that, was a High Lady. “I can not believe you two–“

“You weren't invited?” you interjected, untrusting of your exes as you scowled between them.

Rhys shook his head from across the room. “We went as far to hide the papers.”

You gulped as you stared up at Azriel. “Pray tell, how you found me, then?”

Azriel wore no remorse as he said “Amren – she possessed an invite and–”

Exasperated sounds from each of you filled the room. Amren, of course. She was the only one to know to play games above Rhys and Feyre’s head, and cunning enough to pull it off.

“And what is your plan, then?” you added coldly. “Drag me back to the Night Court, kicking and screaming?”

“No, of course not,” Cassian responded softly, stepping towards you, stopping as you retreated back. “We had to know that you were safe.”

You stared at him, the sorrow in his voice, the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged. He was broken.

“You were not well when you left, Y/N. It’s been killing us not knowing how you are faring now,” Azriel added, his eyes soft, looking just as worn as his brother. You knew he sang silently to his shadows as they coiled in on themself, they would be begging to reach you.

“Please, don't be angry,” Cassian begged, his eyes welling. “We’ll go, we’ll go now, it’s just–”

“We love you. We- we need you,” Azriel interjected, his own brow clenched with pain.

Each of their words were a dagger to your heart, piercing it’s way through the walls you had built.

“Stop that,” you whispered, your hand pressing against your chest to ease the pain. Were these your feelings, or theirs?

“It’s true,” Cassian continued. “You’re our girl. We'll do better, Y/N, we promise. Please.”

It was painful to hear, and you faltered slightly as your body jerked in pain. Something was breaking within you, crumpling around something else, something buried deep.

“Please Y/N, come home.”

Your knees gave out as you let out an anguished cry, your heart tearing and swelling to the point where you thought you just might die.

“Y/N!” Tamlin called in panic, but Azriel and Cassian were already at your sides, holding you, asking where it hurt.

Palms braced on the floor, you tried to breath through laboured breaths as you finally felt what was concealed for so long. It was unmistakable, a tether of sun-lit rope, tying you to the males at either side of you. You felt it all – their fear, the instincts to take you far from this place, their overwhelming, unconditional love.

And you hated it.

“No,” you gasped, your hand finding your heart as you tried to calm its pounding.

Azriel glanced at Cassian, who gave a single nod in confirmation. Feyre gasped from where she stood.

“What is it?” Tamlin panicked. “What’s going on?”

“No!” you repeated, standing quickly and backing away from the two males. It couldn't be – you were free, you had left…

They watched you with saddened eyes at the horror that beheld you.

“The Mother is cruel,” Rhys tutted, lowering his head in sympathy.

“What in the gods-forsaken realms is going on?” Tamlin yelled.

“No, no, no, no! Please, no!” You clutched at the roots of your hair, your mind reeling as you begged to no one. You were bound to them, whether you liked it or not. An enslavement of kinds.

“It snapped,” Feyre answered to Tamlin without ever turning his way.

It was too much to bare – their instincts, your newly ignited ones, their love, your hate. Your brain scrambled for sense, fighting itself over and over as you shook at your knees.

A final ‘no’ pushed past your lips before your body gave out, the world tipping and your vision darkening as strong hands caught you.

You succumbed to the gods damned mating bond.

-------

Part 5>>>

AN: Helllllllllo my lovelies! I am so so bloody excited to share this part with you! It was a rollercoaster to write, hope you held on tight for this angst-train! Always, always, ALWAYS want to hear your thoughts and feelings on where this story is heading, so please drop a comment anytime. And thank you endlessly for your support with this fic - it means the world. MWA!!

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 6 months

Text

Pounding

Summary: Reader has a migraine, and Spencer wants to help.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/comfort

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.2k

The transition of seasons is something that has to be endured. It’s the time when you wake up to frost on your windshield in the morning but must remove your coat by the time you leave work. It is a painful time of inconsistency, especially for your sinuses. Not only with the pollen in the air (as well as on your car at all times) but the dryness as well. It causes your headaches to go from sometimes once a month to now twice a week.

And the first one happens this week, today. The migraine descended on you like a storm, brewing from your nasal cavities, its relentless waves of pain crashing against the shores of your temples. With each throb, the world around you seemed to blur and spin.

You shut the door to your apartment and let your bag fall from your shoulder, with no care with where it lands. Light, food, the smell of home is all too much to bear. With a sigh, you shuffle to the sanctuary of your room and bask in the silence while you can still control it. You unleash yourself from your business casual attire and fall into bed, nestling yourself under the covers.

The darkness relieves pressure, only slightly. It will probably be hours before it has settled, so you think it is best to call it a night now at 5:56 in the evening. There was no point in doing anything else as streetlights alone from the windows have proven to be enough to make the back of your eyes ache. You remained still, motionless, unmoved. Minutes could stretch well into hours without your knowledge.

Until the sound of the front door opened, cutting through the quiet. Spencer was home, which means it’s 6:06 now. The creaking floors from his aged apartment tell you he goes to the kitchen first, the sink runs, then his steps only grow closer to you until you can feel his presence at your back. “Migraine?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

It drains all energy and motivation out of you, so you merely nod in response. He’s more than familiar with severe head pain; chronic migraines that were resolved with a vitamin regimen. Fortunately, he has yet to complain about them bothering you in the year you’ve been together. And he never leaves home without them.

Unfortunately, this makes him eager to figure out your head pains. Last spring, he left out an array of vitamins in a pill organizer. They didn’t. It wasn’t an issue at first. It was clear he was trying to help. The downside of your boyfriend being a child prodigy and objective genius is that he will never back down from a challenge, even when you have asked him to. He can’t do it. Later in the month, he came home one day with an array of tea brands, mostly ginger and peppermint. He’s bought humidifiers, massaged the cartilage of your nose, and even consulted Reddit. It’s certainly worn down your patience, especially when you require complete silence.

“I can get you some hot compresses from the pharmacy if you want.” He jumps in completely. The last three words are merely to cushion the obvious; reiterating the point rather than saying something like, “I’ve had headaches before. I know how awful they are, so you should let me help you.” Which he’s also said.

You continue the annoying pattern by shaking your head with an audible moan. Opening your eyes hurts.

“What about nasal spray or decongestant? I can get those at the pharmacy as well.”

“I don’t need anything from the pharmacy. I took ibuprofen. Just need to keep my eyes closed.”

“Well, that can only help so much today. Saline will help encourage drainage and expansion in the vessels. Ibuprofen solves the head pain, not the root problem.”

“Unless the BAU can order planting fruit trees, it’s the best we can do.”

“What I’m trying to say is—”

You groan louder. “This isn’t a time for solutions, Spencer.”

Another unfortunate aspect of your relationship is that you can feel the way Spencer’s face softens from your tone. He then mutters out an apology, a brief sorry, but he doesn’t leave. He touches your shoulder and keeps his hand there until you turn to face him. And because you love him very much, you strain to open your eyes. You can make out a blur of his silhouette in the growing darkness, but still see clearly his glossy eyes and the quirk of his lips. “Can you do something for me first, though? Real quick?”

Before you answer, his hand slides toward your upper back, meaning you have to sit up for this. You were ready to say something along the line that he’s lucky you love him right now and leave it at that because thinking further made the pressure in your temples increase.

You didn’t have to speak at all, though. Because Spencer is also holding a glass of water in front of you. You look up at Spencer’s puppy-eyed silhouette. “Not a solution,” he says softly. “It’s something you always need.”

Well, if that didn’t make you feel like an asshole. You accepted the glass without a word, feeling the coolness against your palm as you brought it to your lips. Each sip, at the very least, a distraction from the throbbing. Spencer watches you closely. You had no choice but to finish the whole glass. And you did, leaving Spencer satisfied enough as he took the glass and walked out.

You didn’t say a word. The sink ran again, and Spencer returned with another full glass. He doesn’t hand it to you, instead puts it on the nightstand before turning precariously on his heels. It takes you a second through half-closed eyes to realize he’s walking back out. You’re afraid to ask, wondering if you’ve made him too upset to talk. You push yourself and do so anyway, keeping your tone in mind. “Where are you going?”

Spencer turns on his heels once more, looking around momentarily like there were others in the room. He then looks at you. “I figured you wanted to be alone.”

You reach out, moving through the pain quite literally, and you catch the polyester of his cardigan just between your fingers and pull him closer until you can wrap your arms around him. You hold your breath, knowing the intense smell of his laundry detergent would be enough to collapse down to your pillow in further pain. His cardigan is soft against your face. “Do you have other stuff to do?”

He chuckles, his abdomen bounces. So, he’s not too mad. “I do not.”

Encouraged by his response, you tug him gently (and not so gracefully) into bed. He’s delightfully warm. Spencer kicks off his shoes in response before pulling you close. Then you bury your face into his chest, hesitant to breathe in the scent of cedar that clings to the cardigan. You try best to ignore it as you cocoon yourselves beneath the blankets, finding refuge in each other’s company amidst the inner turmoil that comes with spring. You listen to the steady rhythm of Spencer’s heartbeat, and find a fleeting sense of peace in the storm.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #criminalminds #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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fatehbaz · 2 years

Text

---

For the Maya, the honey bee is more than an insect. For millennia, the tiny, stingless species Melipona beecheii -- much smaller than Apis mellifera, the European honey bee -- has been revered in the Maya homeland in what is now Central America. Honey made by the animal the Maya call Xunan kab has long been used in a sacred drink, and as medicine to treat a whole host of ailments, from fevers to animal bites. The god of bees appears in relief on the walls of the imposing seacliff fortress of Tulum, the sprawling inland complex of Cobá, and at other ancient sites.

Today, in small, open-sided, thatched-roof structures deep in the tropical forests of Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, traditional beekeepers still tend to Xunan kab colonies. The bees emerge from narrow openings in their hollow log homes each morning to forage for pollen and nectar among the lush forest flowers and, increasingly, the cultivated crops beyond the forests’ shrinking borders. And that is where the sacred bee of the Maya gets into trouble.

---

In 2012, the Mexican government granted permission to Monsanto to plant genetically modified soybeans in Campeche and other states on the peninsula without first consulting local communities. The soybeans are engineered to withstand high doses of the controversial weedkiller Roundup; multiple studies have shown exposure to its main ingredient, glyphosate, negatively impacts bees, including by impairing behavior and changing the composition of the animals’ gut microbiome. Though soy is self-pollinating and doesn’t rely on insects, bees do visit the plants while foraging, collecting nectar and pollen as they go. Soon, Maya beekeepers found their bees disoriented and dying in high numbers. And Leydy Pech found her voice.

A traditional Maya beekeeper from the small Campeche city of Hopelchén, Pech had long advocated for sustainable agriculture and the integration of Indigenous knowledge into modern practice. But the new threat to her Xunan kab stirred her to action as never before. She led an assault on the Monsanto program on multiple fronts: legal, academic, and public outrage, including staging protests at ancient Maya sites. The crux of the legal argument by Pech and her allies was that the government had violated its own law by failing to consult with Indigenous communities before granting the permit to Monsanto. In 2015, Mexico’s Supreme Court unanimously agreed. Two years later, the government revoked the permit to plant the crops.

---

As Pech saw it, the fight was not simply about protecting the sacred bee. The campaign was to protect entire ecosystems, the communities that rely on them, and a way of life increasingly threatened by the rise of industrial agriculture, climate change, and deforestation.

“Bees depend on the plants in the forest to produce honey,” she told the public radio program Living on Earth in 2021. “So, less forest means less honey [...]. Struggles like these are long and generational. [...] ”

---

Headline, images, captions, and all text by: Gemma Tarlach. “The Keeper of Sacred Bees Who Took on a Giant.” Atlas Obscura. 23 March 2022. [The first image in this post was not included with Atlas Obscura’s article, but was added by me. Photo by The Goldman Environmental Prize, from “The Ladies of Honey: Protecting Bees and Preserving Tradition,” published online in May 2021. With caption added by me.]

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girlgenius1111 · 8 months

Text

you aren't a chore...

mapi x ingrid x reader

r tears her ACL. her girlfriends struggle to help her heal. angst + fluff. mapi didn't tear her meniscus in this because i said so <3

Tearing your ACL while on national duty was less than ideal; not just because it was a months long, intense injury that you knew would be hell to go through. It happened while you were in England, and your girlfriends were in Norway and Spain, respectively. You were dreading having call them with this news, news you knew would hurt them almost as much as it hurt you, but there was no avoiding it.

You were at the hospital, and the doctor had just left the room, confirming what you'd known since you'd gone down on the pitch a few hours ago. You were finally alone, and you couldn't put off calling Ingrid and Mapi any longer.

You started a group face time, wincing when you noticed in the camera how red your eyes were from crying. It only rang a couple times before both girls clicked on, almost simultaneously.

"What's happened?" Ingrid asked frantically, not needing to see more than your tearstained face to know that something was wrong. Mapi's excited smile dropped into a frown, too, and you took a deep breath.

"It's my ACL." You told them, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"No, amor," Mapi said in disbelief.

"It's completely torn. I need surgery." You continued, gripping the sheets under you in your hand, not wanting to cry.

"Are you sure?" Ingrid asked.

"Yeah, I just got the scans back and the doctor confirmed."

"How did it happen?" Mapi's questioned, voice shaking as she spoke.

"I planted my foot and twisted I guess, and it just. Really hurt. I heard it pop."

"Amor, I am so sorry. I'll come to you, I'll fly tomorrow," Mapi said, shuffling around, clearly looking for her computer to book a flight.

"No, no, it's okay. They're flying me back tomorrow to Spain tomorrow. They offered to do the surgery here but I wanted to be home. With you guys."

"Love," Ingrid began, and you could tell from the desperate look on her face what she was thinking.

"No, Ingrid. You'll stay with your team, and win for me. Mapi will take good care of me." You insisted. Ingrid's teeth bit at her lip, an anguished expression etched across her features.

"Love, I want to be with you," She said, and you could tell she was fighting back tears.

"I know, I want that too. It's only a few more days, though. The team needs you, Ingrid, you have to stay."

"Y/n's right. You have to stay with the team. She'll be a handful, but I can handle our girl." Mapi joked, face falling when you only cracked a small smile. She wanted to reach through the phone, to call up one of the English girls and tell them to give you a hug, anything to make you feel better. Glancing at Ingrid's face, the Spaniard could tell she felt the same.

"Can we do anything?" Ingrid asked, thinking that she would move heaven and earth to get rid of the sad frown on your face.

"No, I'm fine, I promise." You said, although your voice and expression told a completely different story.

"Cariño, neither of us expect you to be fine." Mapi said softly.

You forced a smile onto your lips, hoping it was convincing. "Really, I'm fine. I have to go though, they're about to discharge me. I love you guys." You hung up, rolling onto your good side, muffling your sobs in the pillow.

Ingrid and Mapi hung up with each other soon after, both agreeing that they needed to keep a close eye on you. You'd never handled injuries well, but the state you were in on the phone was worse than they'd ever seen. This was a worse injury than you'd ever had, so it made sense, but they were still incredibly worried.

-----

Mapi had wanted to pick you up from the airport, but Barca had insisted on you going to meet with the surgeon right away, sending a car to grab you and take you there. Mapi promised to meet you at the hospital for your consultation, and arrived there in the parking lot a full 10 minutes before you did. She wanted to prepare herself for whatever you were feeling. Honestly, she had no idea how to best help you; neither her nor Ingrid had ever had an injury of this magnitude, they couldn't know what you were feeling. The defender had never felt more helpless in her life, watching you slowly get out of the car, grabbing your crutches, and making your way towards the door, where she waited.

"Mi amor," she said as you neared her, moving forward to carefully wrap you in a hug. You were stiff in her arms, jaw set stiffly, as you murmured a greeting into your ear. It became clear to your girlfriend that you had completely shut down, not allowing yourself to feel the intense emotions she knew must be tugging at you. Not wanting to challenge that unhealthy coping mechanism at the hospital, she simply kissed your cheek lightly, before leading you into the building.

You were quieter than Mapi thought you'd ever been in your life as you made your way into the surgeon's office, face pinched in pain as you settled into a chair next to her, moving your crutches to rest next to you with a disdainful look at them.

You waited for the surgeon, turning to the team doctor that had accompanied you and speaking, voice raspy from lack of use.

"When do you think they'll do the surgery?"

"Depends. Some doctors like to do it sooner rather than later, to preserve muscle strength, while others think the more time taken to reduce swelling, the better. This guy did Alexia's, and he only had her wait a week."

You nodded absentmindedly, reaching one hand over to grip onto Mapi's. She squeezed your hand comfortingly, pulling out her phone to update Ingrid.

Your meeting with the surgeon may as well have been 2 seconds, for all the information you absorbed. Once he told you that he'd operate in a week, you couldn't force yourself to focus on everything he said about the recovery process. If you didn't take this one step at a time, you were sure that you would fail. Mapi could tell you weren't all there, and she allowed you the time to process on the way home, not bothering to speak to you until she asked if you wanted to call Ingrid and update her.

"Can you just tell her?"

"Of course, amor. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Thanks Maps."

If this was a hint to how you'd be for the next week, Mapi felt like she'd almost rather have torn her own ACL. She could tell that you were hurting, not just physically, but deep within you. You wouldn't speak about it though, repeating the words "I'm fine" until they no longer sounded like words. You weren't overly upset, nor were you overly happy. Instead, Mapi got used to the version of you that was quiet, giving her only small smiles and chuckles when she tried to joke around, instead of the full laughs that had been part of the reason she'd fallen in love with you.

As the days passed, and your surgery grew closer, Mapi noticed you become more irritable, frustrated more easily. She talked to Ingrid often about it, completely at a loss for how to help you, as nothing she was doing seemed to work. Her and Ingrid agreed that this period of waiting was especially hard for you; you couldn't do any rehab work, nothing at all could be done until after the surgery. The hoped that being able to focus your mind and body on recovering would bring you back to yourself.

Ingrid, for her part, made up her mind to leave the national team and come home to you at least 10 different times, but you and Mapi always talked her out of it. She was due home the day of your surgery, and you both were adamant that this injury not affect Ingrid's playing time with the team. Ingrid was packing one day, after a particularly rough night where Mapi confided that she wasn't sure you'd slept at all, and Mapi was clearly failing at convincing her to stay. You'd grabbed the phone from Mapi's hand, expressing the most emotion that they'd seen from you since your injury.

"Ingrid, please don't do this for me. I love you, and I miss you, but I want you to stay. Coming home now will only make me feel guilty. Besides, watching you play is one of the only things I'm looking forward to right now."

Mapi practically froze when you spoke, waiting to hear Ingrid's response.

"Okay, elskling. If that's what you want." Ingrid sighed, dropping her clothes back into her drawer. She wasn't happy about it, but she trusted that if you really did need her, you'd ask for her.

"Mapi is taking good care of me, anyway. Not as good of a job as you could, but it'll do." You joked, shooting Mapi a smirk. She feigned being supremely insulted, but really, she was just happy to see you smile again, even if it was at her own expense.

"Alright, you can shower by yourself tonight." She teased, and you glared at her.

"I might as well be showering by myself, for all the help you are."

"I shaved your legs for you yesterday!" Mapi gasped.

"That's not the kind of help I'm talking about."

"If I had sex with you while you were injured, in the shower, while Ingrid was in another country, I think she'd kill me." Mapi defended.

"I absolutely would. You'll just have to be patient and wait for me. And till after your surgery. Think of it as a fun challenge." Ingrid smiled, enjoying the glimpse of the you she was used to seeing, not the empty version that you'd been for the past few days.

"What is fun about that, Ingrid, be serious."

"What's fun is that we're all waiting, and we will all have a very good time together once I'm back, and it's safe for you. I promise, you can be a pillow princess the way you like, and Mapi and I will do whatever you want." Ingrid said sweetly, and you tried to ignore the way you felt suddenly warm at her words.

You gave a dramatic sigh. "Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want." Both girls promised together. Mapi saw the most excitement she'd seen in you all week, and couldn't help but leaning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your temple. You softened at her loving action, growing slightly more serious.

"I'm sorry I've been so awful this past week. I know I haven't been very much fun to be around."

"You have every right to be grumpy, mi amor. You're doing your best, we don't expect any more than that." Mapi promised.

"I can't imagine what you're feeling, elskling. You can act any way you feel like acting." Ingrid assured you. "It'll get easier post surgery, yeah?"

You nodded like you agreed, but you weren't exactly sure about that. You hoped Ingrid was right, you really did. Mapi caught your reluctance.

"No matter what, we've got you, mi amor." She said, tilting your chin to look into your eyes as she spoke.

"Always, kjære." Ingrid echoed, and this time, you felt more confident when you nodded. You weren't sure that you trusted your body anymore, not when it had betrayed you so grievously. You did, however, trust your girls with everything. Everything.

-----

Mapi hated being in hospitals. When she had gone to your initial appointment with you, it was just the surgeons office you were visiting, which was tolerable. But a hospital, with patients and sick people, and doctors and nurses in scrubs, she hated. She always had, and the night before your surgery, you could tell she was getting nervous. You were nervous too, but magically, your stress evaporated when you realized that Mapi was anxious, and all you cared about was making her feel better.

Ingrid was set to touch down in Barcelona after you went back, and she would probably arrive at the hospital right as you were coming out of recovery, which wouldn't be very much help to your other girlfriend who wouldn't hear a word about leaving the hospital while you were in surgery.

You were debating on making Mapi talk about it, when she started bouncing her knee rapidly, and picking at her cuticles; 2 things she only did when she was really nervous. You knew if she continued like this, she'd get no sleep. More than that, she looked miserable, although she tried to hide it, and you hated seeing her upset.

"María," you called softly, getting her attention. She turned to you, and you watched her literally change her face from one of slight panic, to one of reassuring confidence. If you didn't know her so well, you would have bought the second face with no questions asked.

"Come here," you said, gesturing for her to move closer. She must have thought you were seeking comfort, because otherwise there was no way she would have accepted your comfort, and she moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Are you nervous?" She asked.

"A bit. You seem really anxious though, baby. Are you okay?" At your question, she sat up, leaning away from you.

"I am fine, amor. Nothing to worry about." She said. "I am going to go shower, and then I'll help you to bed, alright?"

"Okay." You agreed, letting it go for now. She smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before leaving the room.

You sighed once she was out of earshot. You'd let Ingrid know that Mapi seemed more anxious than normal, but you didn't want to overly stress out the Norwegian, not when you knew she was already kind of freaking out at the thought that you were having surgery before she arrived home. You pulled your phone out, hitting the contact of the one person you knew Mapi trusted almost as much as she trusted you and Ingrid.

"Alexia? I need your help with something."

-----

Worrying about Mapi turned out to be a wonderful distraction for you, as you both woke early and headed to the hospital. You were nervous, but your attention was on your girlfriend, who had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel with one hand, and yours wrapped tight in the other.

"Maps?"

"Sí?" She said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye, her worry evident in her slightly shaky voice.

"Ale is going to meet us at the hospital."

Mapi blinked. "That is nice of her to come for you." She said, although she was slightly confused. You hadn't wanted to see anyone recently, and although you'd been talking to Alexia, as someone who had, and was currently, having issues with her knee, Mapi was surprised that you'd agreed to her being at the hospital, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

"She's not coming for me, she's coming for you. I don't want you sitting alone around the hospital for hours, not when you're already nervous." You stated plainly, never having planned on hiding the real reason Alexia was invited.

"Amor, you should not be worrying about me," Mapi complained, although her grip slackened slightly on the wheel.

"Well, I am. So is Ingrid. And with Alexia there, we won't worry as much. Really, you'll be doing both of us a favor."

"You will be unconscious, but worrying about me?" Mapi rolled her eyes.

"I always dream of you, baby. Even when I'm under general." You winked at her.

Mapi snorted, but you were delighted to see a faint blush on her cheeks. She was quiet for a moment.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." She spoke softly, and you could just barely hear her over the sound of the engine.

You pull her hand over, still laced with yours, kissing the back of it. She smiled at you, eyes crinkling the way they did when she smiled really genuinely. You returned the smile, feeling incredibly glad that you weren't really freaking out.

-----

You sat in the hospital bed, all dressed in the stupid gown, feeling significantly less calm and collected. Mapi had settled after learning that Alexia would be around, and her decrease in stress had allowed you to focus back on your own.

You were visibly nervous, hands shaking, teeth chattering, holding rather tightly to Mapi's hand. They put the IV in, and you noticed Alexia mumble something to one of the nurses, who took one look at you, nodded, and disappeared from the room.

"What did you tell her?" You wondered.

"Nothing, just a question." Alexia replied calmly, but the her eyes flicked away from your eyes; Alexia could lie, but she couldn't meet your eyes while doing it. The nurse returned before you could press your captain.

"Something to help you relax, alright?" The nurse said with a kind smile, injecting something into the IV. You didn't know what it was, but the effect was almost instantaneous. Your neck went limp, and your head dropped onto the pillow. Your body drained of tension, and you loosened your painfully tight grip on your girlfriends hand.

"I feel better," you said, fighting back a yawn. The nurse left the room, telling you that they would be ready to take you back in a couple minutes. Mapi was looking at you, amused by the sudden relaxed version of you in front of her.

"Alexia, you really are a great blonde." You said, squinting at her.

"Thank you chica," she said with a laugh. "They gave you the good stuff, huh?

You turned to look at Mapi, raising a clumsy hand to boop her nose. "You're so pretty. Like so, so, pretty."

"They really did give you the good stuff," Mapi laughed. You returned her grin, eyes beginning to flutter shut. You were lightly snuffling against the oxygen tubes not seconds later, out cold, still clinging to your girlfriend's hand.

"What did you tell them to give her?" Mapi asked, turning her attention to her best friend.

"I just asked if they could start her early on the stuff to relax her. My mom had them do it for me when I had my surgery, because she thought I was going to break my sister's hand, I was holding it so tight." Alexia commented.

The nurse entered again, followed by several others, and Mapi knew it was time. She leaned down, placing a light kiss on your cheek.

"Good luck, mi amor. I love you." She whispered the words into your ear, squeezing your hand once more, before allowing them to roll your bed away. She watched as they wheeled you down the hall, feeling a flutter of worry in her chest. They better be careful with you.

Alexia stood next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"She'll be fine, amiga." Alexia reassured, and Mapi nodded, trying to convince herself.

"Thank you for being here. I really appreciate it." Mapi mumbled.

"Of course." Alexia replied. "You better text Ingrid and tell her y/n went back. You know she bought plane wifi, and if you don't update her, I wouldn't want to be you when she arrives later."

-----

Ingrid hated plane wifi, potentially more than she'd ever hated anything in her entire life. All she wanted was to hear that you'd gone back for surgery okay, and also that Mapi was alright, but the wifi was hardly functioning, and Ingrid felt like chucking her phone across the plane. Her texts began to load, finally, as the plane was landing. Perfect timing. She had a text from Mapi, and a text from Alexia.

"They just took her back. She was nervous but they gave her something and she was... no longer nervous. Waiting with Ale now. Fly safe, princesa. Te amo."

"Mapi's alright. Definitely anxious but I'm distracting her by asking her to tell me what her favorite goal she's ever scored is. She's been talking for 20 minutes."

Ingrid relaxed, even cracking a smile at Alexia's text. Her and Mapi's relationship was so entertaining to watch. They spent most of their time together giggling, making fun of each other, but if one of them needed the other, she would be there. No matter what.

Ingrid made her way off the plane, resisting the urge to shove everyone out of her way. She made record time getting to baggage claim, and was just pulling out her phone to call and uber when she felt someone land squarely on her back.

"La princesa! Your taxi service has arrived!" Ingrid tried to be annoyed, she really did, but when Pina climbed off her back, and Ingrid turned around to find her and Patri smiling goofily at her, she couldn't manage it.

-----

Ingrid arrived at the hospital, leaving her bag with Pina and Patri, who had promised to get it home for her, before heading inside. She'd gotten a text from Mapi a couple of minutes ago, one that had worried her.

"Taking longer than they expected. Not sure why. We're in room 402 when you get here."

Ingrid hauled ass to room 402, her stiff legs from playing a full 90 the day before, and then getting on a plane making it rather difficult. She made it at the same time, apparently, as the surgeon, and she felt slightly nauseous as she walked into the room. There were plenty of reasons why a surgery would take longer, but Ingrid could not, for the life of her, think of one that wasn't negative.

She walked right into the room, just before the doctor, quickly hugging Alexia before pulling Mapi into her side. They all looked at the doctor expectantly. He looked frazzled, which didn't make anyone feel better, and he scrolled through your chart for what felt like minutes before finally speaking.

"The surgery was successful, and y/n is in recovery. There was, however, a slight, unforeseen complication."

-----

You woke up slowly, and you could hear before you could open your eyes. You weren't sure where you were, or what was happening. You heard rhythmic beeping, and it sped up as you grew more aware. You shifted lightly in the bed, unable to get your eyes to open. The beeping sped up faster, but someone laid a hand on your cheek, and a soft voice filled your ears.

"You're alright, cariño, we're here with you." You settled instantly when you heard Mapi speak, the beeping that you now realized was measuring your heart rate slowing down again. It took a few more minutes before you got your eyes to open, and, by that point, you remembered where you were, and why you were there.

It was bright when you looked around. Mapi was in a chair next to you, hand holding yours. You looked around, realizing Ingrid was supposed to be there, as was Alexia. Even just waking up from surgery, you wanted to see your girlfriend, more than anything.

"Ingrid?" You croaked out, directing the question to Mapi. She smiled when she heard your voice, and helped you take a few sips of the water on the table in front of you.

"She's just talking to the doctor, she'll be back in a bit," Mapi informed you. There was something off, though, a tightness to her smile that shouldn't be there. It could have been her general discontent being in the hospital, but something in your gut told you that it wasn't that.

"What's wrong?" You asked, forcing your eyes back open when the slid shut again.

"Nothing," Mapi lied, looking at the door almost pleadingly.

"María, what is going on," you said. Before she could lie again, Ingrid and Alexia appeared in the doorway, the doctor behind them. Ingrid smiled softly when she saw you awake, moving forward to sit next to the bed, and kiss your temple. You returned her smile, but focused back on the doctor. He looked... not troubled, but like he was about to deliver bad news.

"What went wrong?" You asked him, feeling suddenly much more awake.

He smiled sympathetically. "Nothing went wrong, the surgery was successful. There was more damage to your surrounding muscles than we expected, so we had to go to the hamstring instead of the patellar tendon for replacement tissue. It means a slightly harder recovery, as you also need to strengthen the area where the graft came from."

You were quiet for a moment. You'd thought so hard about the surgery, considered every aspect, but didn't think that this was a possibility. You weren't quite sure what to think.

"How much longer will recovery be?" You asked.

"The time shouldn't be affected, but you'll be in more pain at the beginning." He explained. You let out a sigh of relief. You could handle more pain, what you couldn't handle was being off the pitch any longer than you already were going to have to be. The doctor informed you that you were free to go once you were more awake, confirming that you'd made a follow up appointment to remove the sutures, before leaving the room.

You looked down then, seeing your leg wrapped up in heavy white gauze, encased in a black brace. Your knee had been swollen before, yes, but it hadn't really looked like anything was wrong with it. Now, though, it was glaringly obvious, a stark reminder of the long months ahead.

"Hey, what are you thinking?" Ingrid asked, tearing you from your thoughts. It took you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you did, you addressed everyone in the room, trying to put their obvious nerves at ease.

"It's fine. As long as I can get back to playing in the same amount of time, I don't care what they use. I can deal with the pain." You smiled at your girlfriends, and at Alexia. They all returned the gesture, glad to see that you weren't too upset.

-----

You were feeling less confident the next day. The initial drugs wore off, leaving you in considerably more pain than before. Your knee felt hot and swollen, and it throbbed painfully anytime you got up. You were in the extra bedroom, having insisted that Ingrid and Mapi sleep in your bedroom together, so no one would worry about accidentally bumping you. They were reluctant, and Mapi checked on you at least 10 times the first night.

Ingrid had finally managed to get a enough sleep, though, after struggling the whole time she was gone. She was exhausted, and slept for 14 hours. When she woke up, she was furious that you and Mapi hadn't woken her, seeing as though both of you had been up for hours. You, because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow, and Mapi, also because your knee felt like it had been run over by a snow plow. She hated seeing you in pain, and she had hovered over you all morning.

Ingrid shuffled into the extra room a few minutes after finally waking up, curling up next to you in the bed.

"How are you?" She mumbled, looking up at you, face still scrunched with sleep. You smiled down at her, running your finger over the sleep lines etched into her skin.

"Did you sleep well?" You asked, ignoring her question. She yawned, snuggling into your good leg, laying her head on your thigh.

"Slept good. Would have slept better with you there, though." She said, voice muffled against your skin. "You didn't answer my question."

"It hurts." You said simply. You didn't want to talk about it, so you changed the subject. "I missed you." You said. You'd been so out of it yesterday, you didn't really feel like you had enjoyed having Ingrid back home.

"I missed you too, elskling. I'm sorry I wasn't home sooner."

"Don't be. You were where you needed to be. You're home now, that's all that matters." Ingrid smiled at you, eyes fluttering shut again. Sleepy Ingrid was your favorite, and you began to run your fingers through her thick hair, avoiding the tangles. She hummed with pleasure, relaxing further into you.

"How are you feeling, amor?" Mapi asked from the doorway, looking anxiously at you. The smile fell from your lips. Was this what the next 9 months would be like? Every nice moment interrupted by your stupid injury?

"I'm fine, Mapi." You said, voice slightly harsher than it needed to be.

-----

This began a new pattern to your behavior. When you were distracted, you were fine, happy to be with your girls. When you weren't distracted, though, you were miserable. In pain, mostly helpless, and in a foul mood. It only worsened when you girlfriend's asked you questions about how you were feeling; you knew you were being ridiculous, but you felt like the only think you guys talked about was your knee.

Your newfound grumpiness did not, however, mean that you were expressing your emotions. On the contrary, they had never been more inaccessible. Your anger never faltered into sadness; frustration, sure, but neither of your girls could get you to acknowledge that you were upset.

As the weeks passed, and the recovery felt like it was going too slow, you grew more resistant to the help your girlfriend's were anxious to provide. Things were tense around the house, your girlfriends felt like they were walking on eggshells around you, waiting for your frosty exterior to crack, which it eventually did.

-----

You were in the Barcelona gym, 3 weeks post op. You were doing simple exercises, walking from one end of the room to the other, bending and flexing your knee, raising up on your toes. Things that should be easy, but weren't any longer. Alexia was on the other side of the gym, doing a much more complicated exercise. Ingrid and Mapi were out on the pitch, presumably. There was just one physio with you guys today, watching carefully as you did the world's lamest and smallest squats, barely bending your knee, leaning against a table. There was soft music playing throughout the gym, and it was rather peaceful.

That is, until Alexia dropped the barbell she was lifting with a loud clatter. You startled at the sound, twisting without thinking to look towards the noise. As soon as you did, you realized your bad leg was still planted when you turned. It didn't turn much, but it was enough for your knee to erupt in pain.

"Fuck!" You shouted, and Alexia was at your side in a second, as was the physio. "Fuck, something's wrong, jesus," you said, leaning back on the table and taking the weight off your knee.

"Alright, relax, let me look," the physio said, guiding you to lay back on the table. Alexia moved to stand by your head, laying a hand on your shoulder.

"Something is wrong," you said again, even though the pain was rapidly fading. The physio looked at your knee, poking and prodding at it gently, before looking at you.

"How much does it hurt?" He asked calmly.

Tears were stinging your eyes, and your voice trembled as you responded. "Not-not much, it's fading."

"No pain?" He asked again after a minute, applying pressure to each side of your knee.

"No, not anymore," you choked out.

"I don't think anything is wrong. If it was, the pain wouldn't be fading. The incisions look fine. You're okay, you just tweaked it."

"No, no, no. Something is wrong, it doesn't feel right, Ale it doesn't feel right." You cried, turning your attention to Alexia over you, her hand moving up and down your arm. You were fully panicking now, tears falling freely down your face, hands gripping at your shirt as if to tether you to the present. Alexia exchanged a look with the physio.

"Chica, you're okay, this is normal, nothing is wrong." She assured you, but you just shook your head frantically in response.

"No, I messed something up," you gasp. You sat up suddenly, almost smacking your head into Alexia's face. "I need scans, I need to do something," you say, moving to get off the table. Your knee didn't hurt anymore, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you had messed something up, horribly so. Alexia stopped you, resting her hands on your shoulders, holding you down on the table.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. You haven't messed anything up, everything is okay." She soothed. It clearly wasn't working to calm you, so she turned to the physio. "Get Mapi and Ingrid," she murmured before turning her attention back to you.

"Come on, amiga, you need to calm down," Alexia said. You could only shake your head, broken sobs falling past your lips. You hid your face in your hands, completely disconnecting from the world around you. Your ears were ringing, the only thing you could hear was blood pumping in your ears. You didn't know how much time had passed before different set of hands were cradling your face, urging you to look up. You do, and find the worried faces of your girlfriends in front of you. Ingrid has her hands on your face, and Mapi has taken one of your hands in hers, squeezing gently.

"Somethings... wr-wrong, help," you get out, looking between them frantically.

"No kjære, it's okay, nothing is wrong." Ingrid promised. For some reason, you believed her when you hadn't believed the others.

"Are you- are you sure?" You asked.

"Yes, cariño, the physio said you just tweaked it. You are completely fine." Mapi said softly.

"I didn't mess it up?"

"No, darling, you didn't mess anything up."

You nodded jerkily, leaning forward to rest your head on Ingrid's sternum, tugging on Mapi's hand until she moves closer.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry about the barbell, it slipped out of my hands," Alexia begins from the other side of the table, and you can hear the guilt in her voice.

"It's okay, Ale, it's not your fault." You mumbled into Ingrid's chest, reaching a hand out to the side. Alexia grabs it sighing in relief, squeezing once, before pulling away, giving you and your girlfriends some privacy. You stayed hidden away, leaning against Ingrid. You're clearly still emotional, but you don't seem interested in speaking, or moving again. It's quiet for a few moments, before you finally pulling away, wiping at your eyes.

"Can we go home?" You asked.

"Yeah, let's go home." Mapi agreed easily. You stood, taking a tentative step. Your face burns with embarrassment when you don't feel anything out of the ordinary in your knee. You'd freaked out for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

-----

You'd been sitting in silence on the couch since you'd arrived home 20 minutes ago, staring blankly at the dark TV. Your knee was propped up in Ingrid's lap, an icepack wrapped snuggly around the swollen appendage. Mapi was on your other side, resisting the urge to take you by the shoulders, shake you, and beg you to talk to them. Her and Ingrid had agreed to let you come to them, though. There was no use pushing you. Their patience is finally rewarded.

"Sorry I freaked out and you both had to leave training early." You said, raw voice startling your girlfriend's out of their thoughts.

"Don't be so-"

"-Please don't tell me not to be sorry. I've been such a burden for weeks, and you keep telling me not to be sorry about it. I am sorry about it, and I don't understand why you aren't annoyed with me." You cut in, spitting the words with an intensity neither of women was expecting.

"You are not a burden, y/n," Ingrid said, hurt bleeding into her tone.

"Yes I am," you dismiss. "You've had to do everything for me these past few weeks, and all I've done is act like the world has ended. It's just a knee injury, I don't know why I'm acting like this."

"Amor, it is okay if you feel like the world has ended. This is a big thing, and you are allowed to feel things. You don't have to push everything down, it's not healthy."

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. "You already have to take care of me. You shouldn't have to deal with the mess inside my head too."

"You could not be burden, darling, not to us. We don't mind taking care of you, not at all. And we want to know what's going on inside your head. It's been driving us crazy, not knowing what you're feeling. We want to know, y/n, we want to know it all." Ingrid's voice has a clear undertone of determination in it.

"You guys are so busy," you argue weakly. They were; the past weeks juggling you and the team had been draining. It was obvious to you. They hadn't realized how much you'd noticed it.

"We are never too busy for you, amor, and I'm so sorry if we've made you feel like we are." Mapi said gently. "You are our priority."

You finally looked up at them, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's just been hard. You guys get to go play, and I stay here, or go to the gym. And you spend all this time together at training. All the time you spend with me is you guys making sure my knee is okay."

Both of your girlfriend's faces are ones of horror at your confession. They hadn't realized you'd been feeling like this, not at all.

Mapi places a hard kiss on your temple, resting her chin on your head. "If I could switch places with you, cariño, I would. Watching you go through this, be in so much pain, has been killing me. I want to fix it, but I can't. All I can do is try to help, try to make you feel better. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were just a task for us, just a chore to be taken care of. You are our girl, nuestra niña bonita, and we love you, more than anything."

There are silent tears falling from your eyes when Mapi is done talking. She's said everything you've needed to hear this whole time, but were too nervous, too worried about being a burden to them to ask for their reassurance. Ingrid's hand lifts, carefully wiping a tear off your cheek, prompting you to look at her.

"No more of this, okay? When you need us, whether it's attention, or our help with something, or just a distraction, you tell us. You tell us, and we'll do it, whatever you need. You're not alone in this, darling. We're here for anything, really. Just like you would be for us if the roles were reversed."

You feel slightly silly when she reminds you of that. Obviously, you would do everything within your power to help one of your girlfriend's if they were going through this. Why you expected them to not really want to do the same was beyond you.

"Okay." You murmur, eyes on Ingrid as she scoots closer, pressing into your other side. You've been reminded of something, something Ingrid had promised you over the phone. Whatever you want, she'd said. You knew what you wanted, and you knew you needed to ask for it.

"Could I ask for something now?" You wonder quietly, and you hear Mapi laugh above you, clearly anticipating what you're about to ask for. Ingrid has the decency to pretend she doesn't know.

"What would that be?" She asks, placing her hand on your upper thigh.

"You promised me something about you and Mapi doing whatever I wanted?" You grin.

"Hmm, do you think you're ready for that, elskling?"

"God, yes. I'm ready, I promise." Your voice is already needy, already desperate.

"Mapi, go get things ready." Ingrid instructed, and you feel Mapi rise from next to you, and walk away into the bedroom.

"How do you know what to get ready if I haven't said what I want?" You questioned, looking up into the Norwegian's dark eyes.

Ingrid leaned forward, pressing light kisses in a trail up your jaw, stopping just by your ear. "I know what you want better than you do, pretty girl. I thought you knew that by now."

You shivered with excitement. "Don't be too careful with me, okay?"

"We'll be as careful as we need to be," Ingrid promised. Ingrid's lips meet yours, pressing harder than she has in weeks. It's the most she's touched you since your surgery, really, and you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. The wait will have been worth it, you're sure of that.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader

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rottenpumpkin13 · 7 days

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What is it like having either AGS as a roommate?

SEPHIROTH

Pros: Quiet and keeps to himself, keeps the house neat and tidy.... bordering on obsessive, responsible, it's like living with a cat: if he likes you he'll curl up beside you in silence, investigate objects he's curious about, and want that the house follow a routine for meal times.

Cons: Sheds hair everywhere, you don't hear him approaching so he'll scare the shit out of you, says concerning comments unprompted like "At least the soil which buries our bodies in the end will be warm," might adopt a cat at random, falls asleep in random places and you might trip over him, which he will be insulted over.

ANGEAL

Pros: Home cooked food, very nurturing, great music taste, will help you with anything, brings you snacks, the house is filled with plants and always smells fresh.

Cons: Passive aggressively does the dishes, passive aggressively pins the chore chart to the fridge while making comments about how "Ain't nobody do shit," passive aggressively sweeps while saying "You guys are gonna miss me when I'm gone," will bring in random things he found at garage sales/on the side of the road without consulting you.

GENESIS

Pros: Lets you borrow his books and his clothes, lends his ear if you need to vent about your problems, fun to hang out with, will read to you, gossips with you, mixes you drinks, extremely organized.

Cons: Nosy, thinks his music taste is superior and therefore all must listen to it at maximum volume, gives insane advice that is 70% of the time illegal, he's organized but his stuff is everywhere, unpredictable mood swings, blunt, petty and will leave a dirty mug in the sink for 3 months if it means proving a point.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #crisis core #headcanons

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reasonsforhope · 9 months

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"The U.S. government is entering a new era of collaboration with Native American and Alaska Native leaders in managing public lands and other resources, with top federal officials saying that incorporating more Indigenous knowledge into decision-making can help spur conservation and combat climate change.

Federal emergency managers on Thursday also announced updates to recovery policies to aid tribal communities in the repair or rebuilding of traditional homes or ceremonial buildings after a series of wildfires, floods and other disasters around the country.

With hundreds of tribal leaders gathering in Washington this week for an annual summit, the Biden administration is celebrating nearly 200 new agreements that are designed to boost federal cooperation with tribes nationwide.

The agreements cover everything from fishery restoration projects in Alaska and the Pacific Northwest to management of new national monuments in the Southwestern U.S., seed collection work in Montana and plant restoration in the Great Smoky Mountains.

“The United States manages hundreds of millions of acres of what we call federal public lands. Why wouldn’t we want added capacity, added expertise, millennia of knowledge and understanding of how to manage those lands?” U.S. Interior Assistant Secretary Bryan Newland said during a panel discussion.

The new co-management and co-stewardship agreements announced this week mark a tenfold increase over what had been inked just a year earlier, and officials said more are in the pipeline.

Newland, a citizen of the Bay Mills Indian Community in northern Michigan, said each agreement is unique. He said each arrangement is tailored to a tribe’s needs and capacity for helping to manage public lands — and at the very least assures their presence at the table when decisions are made.

The federal government is not looking to dictate to tribal leaders what a partnership should look like, he said...

The U.S. government controls more than a quarter of the land in the United States, with much of that encompassing the ancestral homelands of federally recognized tribes...

Tribes and advocacy groups have been pushing for arrangements that go beyond the consultation requirements mandated by federal law.

Researchers at the University of Washington and legal experts with the Native American Rights Fund have put together a new clearinghouse on the topic. They point out that public lands now central to the country’s national heritage originated from the dispossession and displacement of Indigenous people and that co-management could present on opportunity for the U.S. to reckon with that complicated legacy...

In an attempt to address complaints about chronic underfunding across Indian Country, President Joe Biden on Wednesday signed an executive order on the first day of the summit that will make it easier for tribes to find and access grants.

Deanne Criswell, administrator of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, told tribal leaders Thursday that her agency [FEMA] began work this year to upgrade its disaster guidance particularly in response to tribal needs.

The Indigenous people of Hawaii have increasingly been under siege from disasters, most recently a devastating fire that killed dozens of people and leveled an entire town. Just last month, another blaze scorched a stretch of irreplaceable rainforest on Oahu.

Tribes in California and Oregon also were forced to seek disaster declarations earlier this year after severe storms resulted in flooding and mudslides...

Criswell said the new guidance includes a pathway for Native American, Alaska Native and Hawaiian communities to request presidential disaster declarations, providing them with access to emergency federal relief funding. [Note: This alone is potentially a huge deal. A presidential disaster declaration unlocks literally millions of dollars in federal aid and does a lot to speed up the response.]

The agency also is now accepting tribal self-certified damage assessments and cost estimates for restoring ceremonial buildings or traditional homes, while not requiring site inspections, maps or other details that might compromise culturally sensitive data."

-via AP, December 7, 2023

#united states #us politics #natural disasters #disaster relief #public lands #land back #indigenous #native american #first nations #indigineous people #sovereignty #president biden #biden administration #hope #good news #land management

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breelandwalker · 3 months

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Buck Moon - July 20-21, 2024

Put on your flower crowns and your walking shoes - it’s time for the Buck Moon!

Buck Moon 🦌

The Buck Moon is the name given to the full moon in the month of July and is called this because at this time of year, the rack of antlers previously shed by male deer are beginning to regrow and harden in preparation for the fall rutting season.

Other North American Indigenous names for this moon include Salmon Moon (Tlingit), Berry Moon (Anishinaabe), Month of the Ripe Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Raspberry Moon (Algonquin, Ojibwe). The West Abenaki also call this the Thunder Moon in reference to the often-stormy summer weather. (This one is my personal favorite and the name appears in lunar calendars just as often as the Buck Moon.)

European names for the July moon include Hay Moon and Wort Moon, and it should be noted that the name Stag Moon does appear in some European sources as well.

This year's Buck Moon will be at peak illumination at 6:17am EST on July 21st, so the moon will appear to be full on both the 20th and 21st. Also, it's a weekend, so plan your festivities accordingly!

What Does It Mean For Witches? 🦌

The July full moon continues June’s template of planning for the future, this time with a focus on your passions and ambitions. Reflect on what you’ve accomplished so far this year and plan your next step.

Dream big and plan big, but don’t give in to reckless urgency. Summer (and capitalist grind culture) gives us the urge to Go Go Go. Despite all this, it’s important to take time to rest and recharge, lest we find ourselves burning out and losing our motivation.

What Witchy Things Can We Do? 🦌

Celebrate your victories and revel in the abundance of the summer season. If you’re inclined to do so, take a page from the deer and do a bit of prancing around a bonfire or your favorite flower arbor with some festive flowery headgear.

Go exploring! Find a local park or garden and take a stroll among the greenery, or use TV and the internet to explore and learn about faraway places. This is another opportune time to go and check out pick-your-own farms and farmers markets as well. Sharpen your foraging and plant identification skills while you’re out and about!

If you’re tending a garden, harvest some herbs and investigate what you can make with them. Whether it’s seasoning for meals, homemade botanical products, or just helpful spell ingredients, many herbs and flowers have a plethora of uses. As an exercise, select three plants growing in your yard or garden, research their magical correspondences and botanical properties, and try to think of as many ways as possible to use each one for witchcraft and for practical purposes. For extra credit, pick something native to your area that doesn't appear in the western magical canon and use its' physical, folkloric, and historical associations to create something new!

(Safety Note: Always clean and prepare home-harvested herbs properly before using them for kitchen, bath, or medical preparations. Always be sure to properly identify any wildcrafted or foraged plants. Always consult a doctor before trying an herbal treatment and take all allergies, medications, and pre-existing conditions into account. Please also note that while herbal treatments can be helpful, it can have negative interactions and side effects just like any other medication, and it is not meant to be a replacement for modern medical care.)

Apart from the usual full-moon festivities, I’ve always found this is an excellent time for weather-witching. Summer weather is notoriously fickle, but it is also highly malleable - one recalls that old American Southern epithet of, “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.”

If you’re hoping to bring some rain to water your garden or break the back of a heat wave, this may be the time to do it. My personal favorite folk magic ritual for rain-calling involves going outside with a broom and a bucket of water, using the broom to scatter drops of water over your yard, and shouting up to the clouds, “SEE? IT’S NOT HARD!”

Make sure you take local weather patterns into account and try to draw on existing fronts and nearby precipitation to get the desired result. And keep in mind that with weather magic, less is more and one casting is enough. Asking for too much or asking too often can produce undesirable results. And if you manage to make it rain, be sure to collect some for moon water!

If you’re interested in weather-witching, I highly recommend checking out this masterpost by @stormbornwitch for a number of excellent articles and suggestions.

Happy Buck Moon, witches! 🌕🦌

Sources and Further Reading:

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Witchcraft Exercise - Creating Correspondences

Buck Moon: Full Moon in July 2024, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Buck Moon Bonanza: Embrace July’s Massive Energy!, The Peculiar Brunette.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

#witchblr #witch community #witchcraft #full moon #moon magic #pagan #buck moon #thunder moon #lunar magic #lunar calendar

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 6 months

Note

Hii can you write Emily x fem!reader in a secret relationship but the team somehow catching them kissing and that's how they find out. Also there is a bet going on about them.

Are you kidding?

Summary: see the tumblr req above!

Word Count: 1.05k

Fluff

TW: kissing, getting caught kissing

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

A/N: I swear I haven't abandoned you guys I've just been caught up with school!!

Emily's pov:

It's been a slow day at work all day. Paperwork, consultations, paperwork, staring at my girlfriend; the cycle repeats. The team doesn't know where dating yet, we decided to wait to tell them.

She can clearly feel my gaze because she turns and looks at me and smiles, god her smile. I beam back at her and her eyes flick away from mine to the direction of our 'place' I gently nod and she puts up her hand to signal for me to wait 5 minutes before following her.

As she stalked off, her hips swinging slightly, I drag my eyes down to the file I'm currently looking over and pretend to focus on it. My mind is too full of her to think about anything else.

Reader pov:

I casually walk away from the bullpen with a random file in my hand, making a beeline to mine and em's 'place' (which is just a storage cupboard, albeit a very empty one. There's only printer paper in there) I look around and don't see anyone in the hallway so I slip into the small room and wait for Emily.

I hear the click of her heels on the floor as she approaches the door. The handle clicks and she slips in. Her feature lit up by the sliver of light that leaked in from the open door, her eyes shining with joy as she closes the door.

"Hey you." She says in a hushed tone as her arms find their wait around my waist and mine around her neck. She plants a delicate kiss on my lips.

"Hey," I reply with a bright smile on my face. "How's your day been?" My head fell onto her shoulder as I sunk into her embrace.

"Slow, boring. You know, the usual." I lightly chuckled at her answer.

"Yeah same, but uh. I know a way to make it a bit better." A smirk found its way onto my lips as she cupped my cheek.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Why don't you kiss me and find out."

She smiled and crashed her lips onto mine. Our lips moved together with care and love. Her hands trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to her, she slowly backed me up against the wall and deepened the kiss. Her tongue swiped over my lips asking for permission and I gladly granted it. Her tongue fought for dominance with mine, she obviously won instantly.

In the heat of the moment clearly neither of us heard the clacking of another set of heels on the floor coming towards the room. We were both pulled back to reality when we heard someone walk in the door and just as quickly shut it with a yelp.

Both of us pulled away, knowing it was Penelope, and made eye contact. Still holding each other close we burst into a fit of hushed laughter like a couple of teenagers who got caught making out at school. Oh wait...

She got out her phone and put the flash on so she could properly see me so she could fix my hair for me and make sure I don't look too flustered. I did the same for her and we walked out of the room one at a time and sat back in the bullpen.

Not even a minute after we had both sat down Garcia walks over to the round table and Hotch out of his office.

"We have a case." Hotch announces as he walks towards the room.

"Ugh, I was hoping to go home at a normal time today." JJ groans as we walk to the room, a grumble of agreement sounds from everyone as we all sit down.

Garcia sets down the tablets and Reid's paper report. Oh god Reid's still on paper, Pen was probably going to get paper for the printer from the storage room. We clearly all had the same thought at the same time because me and Emily made eye contact before glancing at Garcia, who was already flicking her eyes between the two of us.

"What have we got?" Spencer says, breaking the silence.

"Okay before I tell you, I have something else to tell you all." She speaks quickly, to avoid me and Emily protesting. "Y/n/n and em were making out in the storage cupboard! There I said it, sorry guys. I couldn't help it, you know me!"

The team all looks to me and Emily who are coincidently sitting next to each other, looking for confirmation.

We make eye contact again and she grins.

"Don't I swear to god Emily." I say fighting back a laugh yet again.

"Wait hang on, are you- were you?" Rossi asked. Voicing the confusion of the rest of the team. Emily responds before I can.

"Yeah, we were. Hotch, sorry, but it was a slow day can you blame us? We're dating, she's my girlfriend."

A look of knowing passed across the teams faces before Derek and JJ make eye contact.

"Okay guys c'mon," He says holding out his hand, Jay swiftly following. "Pay up."

"Are you kidding, did you make a bet on us dating?" I stare at them in amusement.

"Well yeah, you couldn't expect us not to." JJ shrugs.

"She's right you know, it was too obvious." Derek adds on as Hotch, Rossi, Spencer and Garcia hand money into their hands.

"You know Pen, I'm disappointed in you." She looks at me shocked. "I thought you were good at spotting these things?"

Everyone laughs and Garcia responds "You had me stumped sugar." I smile at her and then shift my focus to Emily. Her hand trails to my thigh and she squeezes it affectionately, I intertwine my hands with hers.

"Okay, back to the case." Hotch says and discussion about the current case ripples through the room once again.

Emily brings my hand up to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it and whispers a small "I love you." I smile at her and whisper back "I love you too."

#wlw #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #sapphic #criminal minds #emily prentiss #wlw pride #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds evolution

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faebaex · 1 year

Text

Tangled in Wonderland - Leonotis Leonurus

author note: second poll's winner! also a plant pun for the title, just because (￣▽￣) i feel like Jade would be proud. speaking of, he has a teeny tiny cameo in this fic, simply bc he just fit the situation so well. so far, its been a housewarden clean sweep on the polls, with Azul winning the Octavinelle poll! new poll is up right now, a bonus one this time! who will be the comeback king? go vote if you haven't already! enjoy~

characters: Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader

The library was your turf.

By this point, you were on a first name basis with all of the library ghosts, and you had a fairly good working knowledge of every section of the library, with Ace and Deuce often seeking you out at your usual table to ask you if you had any idea where a certain book would be. Of course, more often than not that meant that they would then sit at your table and you wouldn’t really get any meaningful research done, not with all their squabbling and general freshman catastrophic energy. When Grim tagged along, it was even worse, but at least you could keep an eye on him and make sure he was actually doing the assignments he was supposed to.

Despite all the time you had been spending at the library, you were still no closer to figuring out how to get home. Crowley was nowhere to be found, taking avoiding you to an entirely new level. The books and reading list that Riddle had provided you, however, had been very insightful. His recommendations were much easier to read than the previous tomes you had been torturing yourself with, and you were starting to see connections between theories, it becoming easier for you to source further reading without having to consult Riddle first. So yes, the library was your turf.

The botanical garden, however, was not. And you were well aware of who it belonged to.

Leona Kingscholar was one of the students at the top of your list to avoid. And considering his personality, the feeling was likely mutual. So you made a conscious effort to avoid places where you could run into him, not wanting to tempt the already volatile nature of fate to thrust you into his trajectory. You were even doing well avoiding conflict with the Savanaclaw students, especially considering they were always looking for a fight and the school’s only magicless student was definitely high on their lists to torment. But unfortunately for you, you couldn’t always avoid some of Leona’s favourite haunts, because what Crewel wants, Crewel gets.

You grumbled to yourself as you picked through the botanical gardens, a basket on one arm and a list in the other. Crewel had kindly brought it to your attention with a lash of his pointer that good ol’ Grim had been using ingredients from the potionology inventory for his lab work and assignments instead of collecting his own before class, as student handbook guidelines demand. With Grim nowhere to be seen and you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Crewel had handed you an extensive list of every ingredient that Grim had used since the two of you became a joint student, and ordered you to the botanical garden to retrieve every single one of them, or face the consequences. And with Crewel swinging that pointer around, you didn’t wait around to find out what those consequences would be.

Being so unfamiliar with the botanical gardens made this job harder, and the sheer size of the list had you running around in circles, picking one ingredient only to realise that you needed something similar that was back the way you had just came. It was incredibly frustrating, and you found yourself huffing under your breath as you traipsed around the botanical garden. To make matters worse, you had to keep yourself alert, lest there be a certain lion’s tail draped carelessly on the pavestone.

You were well aware that in the game, the poor main character had accidentally stepped on a certain stroppy lion’s tail, and he had retaliated by threatening to knock their teeth out. You’d rather not find yourself in the same situation. You’d briefly considered moving his tail out of the way with a stick or something, but decided that Leona was hardly worth the effort and would likely get offended at you poking at him either way, so instead you had to dutifully watch your feet as you continued on with your laborious task.

You had been hunting for ingredients for about an hour and a half by now, and clubs were starting to wrap up their activities and head back to their dorms. You, however, still had half of your list to go, so there was no such reprieve waiting for you. You wondered if you would be able to drop the basket back to the potionology lab with your half-completed list and promise Crewel that you’d finish the job tomorrow. Surely he wasn’t willing to wait around for you to find all these ingredients? If there was any professor at Night Raven College who you expected to have evening plans, it would be Crewel.

As you pondered your next course of action, you caught a flash of teal out of the corner of your eye. Walking towards you down the pathway was Jade Leech, and you fought the urge to do something stupid like show weakness by tensing or throwing yourself into the bushes. With his usual contrived smile affixed to his face, Jade eyed you in a way that really did make you feel like a shrimp, suddenly giving you a whole new understanding as to why his twin had dubbed the main character with such a pet name. Him being here was an oversight on your part, clearly you had thought that Leona was the botanical garden’s biggest threat, not even factoring in that Jade would use this place to fawn over his mushrooms. Thankfully he didn’t stop, passing you with an elegant stride that you could only appreciate, considering he had only been on legs for two years.

“Good day, prefect. Lovely weather we are having.” Jade greeted as he passed you, with you only responding with a small, tight-lipped smile back. No sooner had his footsteps faded away did the heavens decide to open up, a surprised cry erupting from your lips as you quickly found yourself becoming drenched, the sprinklers dousing the entire area and you in water. That could not have been a coincidence.

The sprinklers stopped as quickly as they had started, but by that point the damage had already been done, your clothes and hair dripping. The list in your hand was sodden, the ink running and quickly making the contents illegible. You growled in frustration, throwing the soggy list to the floor with a wet thump as you tried to squeeze out your clothes in vain. You were so busy trying to sort yourself out, to scrap back any shred of dignity you could that you almost missed the rustling of bushes next to you. Even if you had, there was no way you’d miss the soaking wet beastman emerging from the foliage, ears flat to his head and tail whipping behind him aggressively.

And he was glaring straight at you. Great.

“You got some nerve, herbivore. You got a death wish?” Leona snarled at you and you found yourself prickling up. “This wasn’t me!” You argued, gesturing to your own dripping form before glaring right back at him, “I might be magicless, but that doesn’t make me stupid! If I was going to set the sprinklers off, I’d make sure I wouldn’t get caught in it.” You huffed, once again trying to squeeze the excess water out of your clothes. Your words seemed to pique some interest in Leona, as he was suddenly all up in your space and sniffing you.

“Hm, you’re right. No magic at all, just wet herbivore.” Leona remarked, scrunching his nose up as he stepped back, as if the smell offended him. “Do you mind? You smell like wet cat.” You said flatly with an unimpressed expression, throwing your basket back over your arm with perhaps a little more force than necessary. You swear you could see an amused glint in Leona’s eye as he stooped down, picking up the soggy list that you’d thrown to the ground just moments earlier. “What’s this?” He enquired, holding the list away from him between his thumb and forefinger as if it was toxic, yet still holding it out of your reach when you tried to swipe it back.

“That is mine.” You said with exasperation, your dignity already running down the drain without Leona making you jump to get your list back, “whatever, its ruined anyway. Have it.” You huffed, resigned to having to go back to Crewel with your metaphorical tail between your legs and plead for a new list. Leona eyed you up for a moment before he stepped towards you again, tugging at the basket on your arm to get a look at the contents before dumping the ruined list into the basket.

“C’mon, prefect,” Leona droned over his shoulder as he started walking up the pathway, “I’ll get you some ingredients. First year ingredients are simple.” He scoffed as he navigated the garden like a seasoned pro, his gait lazy and leaving you no choice but to trail after him with a suspicious expression on your face.

“You’re… Helping me?” You questioned, the corner of your lips downturning warily. The Leona you knew was never helpful, only interested if he had something to gain, usually foisting off any inconveniences to Ruggie. “What’s in it for you?” You asked carefully, watching as he picked some stems from a bush and lob them into your basket, making you sigh as you attempted to tidy up his shoddy packing. Leona’s smile was all fangs as he caught your eyes before continuing along the path, “I’m always in need of another gopher. Having you owe me could come in handy, Ruggie has been nagging me lately and you could be just what I need... Plus, the quicker you’re out of the botanical garden, the more peaceful sleep I’d get without having to listen to your huffing and puffing.”

Ah.

Well, you suppose the original main character was truly onto something when they’d stayed up all night screaming outside Leona’s room in chapter three.

Leona had made short work of finding ingredients, and soon your basket was filled to the brim. “Those are all the common ingredients in first year potions. Any missing ingredients are on you.” Leona drawled as you both walked together towards the exit of the botanical garden, his hands behind his head as he yawned leisurely, “you owe me, prefect.”

“How do you even know what ingredients to look for?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you as you both left the garden, about to split off on your own paths as you planned to deliver the basket of ingredients to Crewel, whilst you assumed Leona would head back to his dorm. Leona simply kept walking, and you assumed he’d grown tired of you. But then he paused, looking over his shoulder at you with a smirk that you’d dare to describe as cheeky.

“Because I had to search out ingredients for Crewel in my first year, too.”

Huh. Perhaps Leona wasn’t that bad after all, you thought to yourself as you watched Leona’s retreating back, before setting off yourself to hand the ingredients in to Crewel, praying for fate to grant you some mercy for a change.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x y/n

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lisbeth-kk · 22 days

Text

Sherlock fandom.

Someone To Rely On

Sherlock never trusted anyone, but now, barely without his knowledge, he trusted five people. Five! It was outrageous.

Despite his snarl and distaste for his brother’s involvement in his life, Sherlock trusted Mycroft nearly most of all. Nearly.

Whenever Sherlock ended up in a drug den, needed transport, or rescue from Serbian prisons, Mycroft was the one to trust, and he never failed to deliver.

Behind Mycroft in line, there had been Lestrade. Sherlock could always count on the DI lacking the brains to solve a difficult case, then turn to the world's only consulting detective for help.

His beloved landlady was dearer to Sherlock than his own mother. Her biscuits and cakes were the best in the land, perhaps even the world, and he didn’t mind her fussing all that much. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Besides, she loved their bickering just as much as he did.

Molly, next. His cheeks blushed when he thought about how over the years, he has exploited her crush on him to the fullest. Crowding in on her to let her get a whiff of his cologne. Lowering his voice when he wanted to get access to some interesting body parts.

The only times he has touched her, though, were to apologise for his behaviour and thanking her for helping him faking his own death. Both kisses were full of regret on his part, and he still wished he hadn’t needed to bestow them on her.

And then there was the enigma, the soldier, the doctor, the man with as many trust issues as Sherlock. John Hamish Watson. The most loyal man he has ever met. A man who actually killed another man to save Sherlock from his own stupidity mere hours after they’d met. He was admittedly an awful cabbie, but the truth remains; John had not hesitated when he fired that gun. His hand was steady, his shot perfectly aimed. It took Sherlock an embarrassing amount of time to realise who the hitman was, but when he did, he was defenceless.

***

After years of living together, Sherlock knew for a fact that John was the puzzle that would always remain unsolved. That thought appeared in his mind numerous times a week. Sometimes, numerous times a day.

On Mycroft’s last visit, he called John a Living Weapon. When Sherlock had insisted on an explanation, his older brother had rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“You are totally blind when it comes to Doctor Watson, brother mine.”

Sherlock waved a hand, indicating for his pompous arse of a brother to continue.

“How loathe I am to state the obvious, there is…how shall I put it…the effective way he disposed of Mr. Hope. I don’t think I need to go into details of every time the good doctor has kept you from harm’s way, for which I am most grateful. Be it his hands, his fists, his arms in general, or illegal firearms, he is there for you, Sherlock. Always. From day one. I am certain he would have a go at me if he thought I was a threat to your life.”

Mycroft looked smug after this delivery, which Sherlock didn’t notice. He was so deep in thought, he failed to perceive that his brother left the flat. When he returned from his Mind Palace, two hours had passed.

He had created a new room for John in his mind, using all the images Mycroft planted there while he listed every way John had saved him over the years. He used less than three seconds to name it.

John Hamish Watson - The Living Weapon

***

“You’re unusually calm,” John murmured into Sherlock’s ear when he came home that afternoon.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sherlock asked a bit puzzled.

“Considering that your brother has visited,” John clarified.

“Ah. The knocker,” Sherlock sighed. “We really should consider gluing it to stay askew for eternity.”

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock’s jaw. The great detective inhaled sharply when he realised that John’s new room in his Mind Palace would need more images. All the ways John brightened his life, how he loved him, were weapons too. Sort of. Because Sherlock was totally helpless when his lover used every trick in the John Watson Bible of Seduction to get his attention.

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I'll leave it up to you to deduce whether Mycroft was aware he was using a pun...

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@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-inlovewithregandmoony

@lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12 @jawnscoffee

@gay-ass-bitch @acumberlockedgirl @williamholmeswatson

(Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

#flash fiction friday #sherlock fandom #sherlock #john watson #mycroft holmes #bbc sherlock #johnlock #sherlock fanfic #FFF269 #living weapon

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lumosinlove · 2 months

Text

On The Line

Part Four

ONE YEAR LATER

Logan went through his usual routine—well, his new usual routine as he was preparing for a tournament. The U.S. Open was quickly approaching, but he still had time. Weeks. Even after two years his life still felt new. What had once been yanking himself out of bed for a protein shake and a run was now pushing into Finn’s side while he fried a few eggs and burrowing into the warm crook of his neck.

“Mm,” Finn said around the piece of watermelon he was chewing. He wrapped an arm around Logan’s waist, hand giving his butt three hard taps. With the other, he flipped the sizzling eggs then turned to press his lips to Logan’s forehead. “Do we still have blueberries?”

“Ouais—smoothie?”

“Yeah. Wait, there was mint in the garden, that’ll be good in it. And I bought that yogurt you like.”

Logan tilted his head up and Finn smiled.

“Hi, gorgeous, hi,” he whispered, and then kissed him. “Go get me my mint.”

Logan stepped out into the morning. He nodded to Alice and Pete, whose team helped manage his courts and house while he was away. They hadn’t seemed very surprised when Logan first brought Finn home and Finn had just…never left. They’d seemed happily surprised when Finn consulted them about planting an herb garden.

It was barely eight in the morning and it already felt like it was nearing eighty degrees. It was going to be a hot practice. Logan found the patch labeled mint in Finn’s slanted handwriting and picked a few stems.

The kitchen window opened behind him and Finn shouted out, “chives!”

Logan smiled and reached for those, too. He took his phone out and snapped a photo, sending it off with a little swooping sound. A moment later, a reply arrived under the banner of Leo Knut’s name.

I’m very impressed!!!

:), Logan typed back. what are you up to where are you now

Logan waited for a reply, but none came. He must have been busy and Logan went back into the kitchen to Finn.

Logan wasn’t sure how it had happened, or even exactly when. Sometime after the Wimbledon ball—Finn called it the Wimbledon dance—Leo Knut had slowly but surely become their friend. He ate with them at most meals during tournaments. He came out to dinner with them sometimes, when he wasn’t eating with his team—who seemed nice enough, if not a little strict. Finn always rolled his eyes when Logan said that. We can’t all have a two-for-one boyfriend, Tremblay.

They texted when they were apart in a group chat that had somehow acquired the name Loginn & Leo that made Logan smile every time he saw it. Finn and him went back and forth constantly about books and TV shows. Logan mostly just listened and read through their conversations, but he liked talking to Leo about his cooking the most. He enjoyed hearting the pictures of delicious meals he made. Him and Finn tried to recreate some of them with Leo instructing them over FaceTime, but Logan had a feeling it would never taste the same unless it was made by Leo’s hand.

Tennis was carefully avoided. Maybe out of respect, or out of balance, Logan didn’t know. But he was almost glad. It kept Leo as a friend. It kept their minds off the court when they didn’t need to be there.

They ate their breakfast on the back porch that overlooked the pool and Logan had half a mind to forget training and lay here all day with Finn. The pool’s surface was still and gleaming in the morning light, the fan above them rotated slowly for a gentle breeze, and Logan had his feet in Finn’s lap. Finn was idly rubbing Logan’s ankle with one hand and eating with the other. Logan knew he’d be a mess of sweat and sore muscles later, so he pushed his toes into Finn’s thigh for more attention.

Finn pushed against a particularly sore spot in Logan’s arch and grinned at Logan’s noise. “Gonna run you so hard today, get ready.”

Logan popped his last bite of toast into his mouth. “Can you please not say it like that?”

“What?”

“It sounds like I’m going to do other things than run, and I know that I’m not.”

“Hm,” Finn took a sip of his iced coffee, obviously hiding a smile. “Maybe you better work really hard, then.”

Three hours later, Logan was flat on his back on the clay of his personal court. He closed his eyes, chest heaving, and enjoyed the dusty-scratch feeling of the clay on his skin.

A shadow fell over him. Finn had been inside the house, taking some calls while Logan did sprints. When Logan opened his eyes, Finn looked the picture of cool and unruffled. He held out a water bottle, and when Logan took a sip, he was pleased to find the water ice cold and slightly lemony.

“I think I found someone for you to hit with,” Finn said. “He’s hoping to get in some good time on the clay and, oh look,” Finn spread his hands. “Clay, right here in the USA.”

Logan opened his eyes again questioningly. “What?”

“I found someone for you to hit with.”

Logan propped himself up on an elbow, confused. “I hit with you.”

“I know, I know. What, you don’t even want to know who?”

Logan took another sip of water, swishing it around in his mouth. “Who?”

“Leo.”

Logan smiled, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Leo’s here?”

“Ooh-way.”

“He didn’t say.”

“You spoke to him?”

“I sent him garden pictures and asked but he didn’t respond.”

“Maybe because he was flying.”

“Leo doesn’t have to be flying not to answer my messages.”

“No, I’m saying I have his flight number, he was flying.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “You tracked his flight?”

Finn shrugged. “I like to know where people are. I used to track your flights all the time. Before I was on all of them.”

Something about that made Finn’s words begin to set in. Playing Leo was one thing. Being his friend on tour, texting, FaceTiming, trying to learn to cook from him. But training with him…

“Well…Là.” Logan shook his head. “He’d get to know me too well. My game. He’s so good, it’s—”

“You’d get to know his, too,” Finn said. “And he’s gonna be around for a while. The rest of your career, certainly. He’s too good not to be.”

Logan hesitated. He picked up his hat from where it had been knocked to the ground and pressed it between his hands.

“We avoid tennis,” Logan said. “I don’t…I don’t want it to come between us.”

Finn sighed and knelt down on his good knee, right between where Logan’s were splayed. “Look, Lo. Bottom line, I can’t run you around like you need. My knee won’t have it. And I don’t need someone to just lob balls at you. I don’t need you to whip some half-ass hitter’s butt. We need someone who will push your every boundary. Who will put you to the test—especially on clay. It’s your home, it’s where you dominate. It’s where people are the most scared of you and I’m gonna keep it that way. Also, Leo’s a beast on hard court and you could learn a few things.” Logan narrowed his eyes and Finn smiled. “I’m telling you this as a kindness, boyfriend and coach.”

Before he knelt on his bad knee, he’d stretched his hands out on either side of Logan and slowly lay him down on the hot court. Logan smiled as he lay his head back. His entire back through his t-shirt was warm and Finn’s chest felt warmer.

“Is that a yes?” Finn bent to kiss Logan’s neck. He was soaked in sweat but Finn didn’t seem to care.

Finn pulled back to look at him. “He’s coming at noon tomorrow.” He pushed himself up on his hands, straightening his arms and blocking out the sun just enough so that Logan could open his eyes and see his red hair get turned to bronze by the halo of rays. They looked at each other for a moment, until Finn laughed, soft and closed-lips, and couldn’t help himself anymore. He let himself back down and kissed Logan in the sunshine.

“Yes?” Finn asked again, bumping their noses together. “Yes. Yes, yes?”

Logan hooked his arms under Finn’s and hauled him fully down. “What if we can’t turn it off again?”

Finn frowned, but allowed himself to rest against Logan. “What does that mean?”

Logan let his head rest fully in the clay. It would be all in his hair turn the shower tiles rusty later when he scrubbed it out—or when Finn did, hopefully.

“What if…” Logan sighed. “What if once we train together, we’re always competitors and we can’t be friends again?”

“Did you feel any less my friend when you played me?”

God, that was something he hadn’t thought of for a while. Finn, across the court from him. Trying to beat Finn. Well, usually beating Finn. And Finn sticking his tongue out at him when he thought the cameras weren’t looking—the cameras were always looking.

Finn read his mind like that.

“Cause for me, you know what happened to me when I played you?” Finn asked.

“You fell in love with me?”

Finn feigned a gasp. “How did you know?” He grinned as he kissed Logan again. “So, don’t worry about Leo. He’s not petty. He’s not stupid. He’s your friend. He knows what comes with your jobs. And he wants to train with you anyway.” Finn tilted his head. “Some would call that wanting to spend time with your friends, too.”

“It’s hard work.”

“Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

Logan tightened his arms around Finn. “Ouais, well, I’ve been asking you to do that all day.”

“Oh-ho.” Finn’s laugh was delighted and he ducked his face down against Logan’s neck. “Shut up.”

Logan hooked his foot around Finn’s waist and rolled them over until he’d pinned him against the soft clay. His hands left reddish smudges of Finn’s cheeks when he took his face to kiss him again.

“Mm,” Finn mumbled contentedly. He pushed his hands up under Logan’s shirt.

“Allez,” Logan whispered, biting down gently on Finn’s lip. “I want to do what I love.”

“Leo,” Finn said, the name cutting off in a gasp as Logan pressed his hips against him. “Tomorrow. Noon.”

“Yes,” Logan said. He nosed against Finn’s jaw until he got Finn to tilt his head back so he could get at his pale neck. “Yes…”

Logan felt restless the next morning. He was out at dawn, running the familiar path near his property, Finn biking beside him. They stopped in a shady spot where a food truck served breakfast sandwiches and iced coffee.

“We should take Leo here,” Finn said around a mouthful. “He’d fucking love this sauce that is burning my mouth off right now.” Finn swallowed and stuck his tongue out, panting. “Ack. It’s delicious just man-oh-man.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You just took out an entire potato because it was covered in it.”

“Fuck off,” Logan said, and slouched further with his back to Finn’s chest.

They rode back and showered. Finn laughed a bit at the fact that Logan never seemed to not have a bit of clay in his hair or behind his ears.

The restlessness didn’t ease up.

As they waited for Leo to text that he had landed, Logan walked laps around the living room couch where Finn was reading. One circle. Two. Three. Four. He paused and came back with a handful of popcorn. Five. Six. Finn looked good reading. Glasses resting on his nose, casting faint speckled shadows among his many freckles. Seven. Eight. Nine. Logan kissed the top of his head before coming back around to look at his face again. Ten. Eleven.

“Lo…” Finn said his name all drawn out without looking away from his pages.

“He really asked to come?” Logan asked. “You didn’t ask him?”

Finn turned a page. “He asked me.”

“You should be careful what strategies you use when he’s here. Who knows what he’ll say to his own—”

“Logan,” Finn laughed. He rubbed at his eyes beneath his lenses before taking his glasses off. “You think I don’t have a plan for that sort of thing?”

Logan paused. He worried a popcorn kernel in his teeth. “I don’t want to have to whisper in front of him.”

“We won’t. You know us. A lot of the time, we don’t need words.” Finn let his book rest against his chest. “Listen to me. Will he learn some things about us? Yes. Will we learn some things about him? Yes. But that’s not the point. The point is you’ll get even better than you are because you won’t be worried about hurting me, and it won’t be easy for you.”

“What if I have to use something new against him in a match?” Logan said. “Something I learn now. Here.” Logan sank into the cushions at Finn’s waist and Finn set his book and glasses on the table so he could grab Logan’s hips and haul him into his lap. Logan put his palm flat on Finn’s chest. “What if he hates me for it later? Even without meaning to.”

“Do you wish I’d told him he couldn’t come?”

“Non,” Logan said. “I just…”

“He’s not going to hate you. “This is the game. It’s the game. And you’re both part of it. He’s not going to hate you.” Finn shook his head, tapping playful fingers against Logan’s cheek. “Get out of your head, pretty little green eyes.”

Logan sighed. “Do you think we have food he likes?”

Finn tisked, but pulled Logan forward to kiss his forehead. “Yes, you sweetheart. God, do I tell you I love you enough?”

“Those chips,” Logan said, sitting up a bit. “Those spicy chips that he packs in his suitcase—”

“Ordered them,” Finn said. “But, Lo, he probably rented a house that he can fill up however he likes.”

“But he’ll be over here. On my courts.”

Logan got a little warm all over, picturing Leo out there. Walking past his pool. Maybe he’d even man the grill that didn’t get nearly enough use. He’d bring his long, lean limbs and sit on this sofa and…

Logan could still feel the touch of his hand on his lower back. We’re just dancing, Logan.

Finn’s phone began to ring from inside his pocket, making Logan jump from his place on his lap. He tried to think what Finn would say and it came easily. “Happy to see me, or something?”

Finn snorted and tapped his hip to tell him to move. “He’s landed.”

It was just as good as Logan imagined it would be. Leo had hugged him tightly the second he walked through their door. He’d hugged Finn tightly, too. Logan liked the way Leo had to stoop a little even to hug Finn. He liked the way Finn’s hand were firm on Leo’s back, just like they were on Logan’s after a win or loss. Finn sat Leo down outside on the patio by the pool and Logan trailed after, watching them. Finn offered food and drink, Leo chose a Cola, and Finn brought it to him on ice with a red and white paper straw because he was Finn and this was Leo and Logan didn’t know why it felt so very important that Leo was here but it did. It really did.

“The plane was fine,” Leo was saying. “And the city’s nice, but it’s gorgeous out here, though. You guys got a spot.”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Lo picked well. Where did you rent?”

Logan perched on the edge of the chair Leo had chosen. He sort of wanted to look at him while he was distracted by Finn. He already looked sun-golden and relaxed. He had that blue shirt on and his hair was shorter just now. The gray tuft looked like it had gotten sun, too. Logan still hadn’t asked him about that.

“Hm? Oh, I didn’t rent. I got a room at the Lion Hotel.”

“Non, non, non,” Logan said at the same time as Finn made a protesting sound.

“You’ll stay with us, then,” Finn said. “Leo. C’mon.”

Leo hesitated, sipping his drink. “It’s a nice hotel.”

“Non,” Logan said again. “You’ll just have to drive here everyday anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, or…” Leo’s eyes went between the two of them. “Really?”

“What are we supposed to do,” Finn said. “FaceTime you to help us cook dinner while you’re in the same city?” He smiled. “No, really, though. We’d…” He looked at Logan. “We would love to have you here with us.”

“Why didn’t you say you were coming? When I texted you the garden.” Logan realized he had almost started touching Leo’s hair—a habit with Finn—and pressed his palms to his thighs instead.

Leo tilted his head back to smile up at him. “Because you would have told me that we’d get to know each other’s games too well and that we shouldn’t.”

Finn let out a laugh from his chair across from them and crossed his socked feet on the table. “Oh, would he now, Leo? Do you hear that, Lo?”

Leo placed his straw between his teeth as he smiled. “Did I get it right or word for word?”

“Word, for, fucking, word,” Finn said pointedly. “Sprinkle in some worry that we won’t have any food you like.”

“Finn,” Logan hushed, and Leo laughed. He put a hand over Logan’s.

“You’re sweet.” Leo looked at Finn. “You’re both sweet. But yeah, I figured I’d go straight to Finn.”

Finn stuck his tongue out at Logan. “He knows I know I good idea when I see one.”

“Well, you took this one on, didn’t you?” Leo squeezed Logan’s hand before letting go. Logan wished he had turned his palm up into it.

Finn’s brown eyes darted between the two of them. He was biting his lip against a smile and messing with the condensation droplets around his soda. “I did.”

“I guess I’ll have to go get my things sometime tonight,” Leo said.

Finn waved a hand at the setting sun. “Do it tomorrow. We probably have everything you need here.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “And you have, like, six rooms to choose from.”

“Oh yeah,” Finn said. “Do you want the tour?” He rolled his eyes at himself and put his glass down. “I say like it’s my house.”

“It is your house,” Logan said. “Like, this is your house, I am your house.”

Leo laughed as they went back inside. “Yeah, Finn, he’s your house.”

“You know what I meant.”

Leo swung an arm around Logan. “Do we?”

Logan gave him a shove, but not hard enough to dislodge his arm.

They took him through the house first and Leo put his phone down in the bedroom beside the master, so Logan figured that’s the room he wanted. It was the one Noelle chose whenever she visited. They went to the theater room, the basement that had a lower deck and a pool table. It was a lot of impressive stuff, but Leo seemed to appreciate the kitchen the most.

“Oh.”

Logan tucked his hand into Finn’s as Leo turned around in a slow circle, taking in the large kitchen. Finn squeezed.

“I bet y’all hardly use this beauty,” Leo said, brushing a hand against the stove.

“I’ll have you know I make eggs there every morning,” Finn said.

“Where’s your private chef at?” Leo arched a brow.

“She has the day off,” Logan said.

Finn scoffed. “I was about to tell a joke!”

Logan shrugged. “She does.” He looked at Leo. “But don’t worry she left a lot of prepped things in the fridge, so we’re good for dinner.”

Finn coughed jokingly over the words Leo’s risotto.

Leo smiled at him. “I’m happy to make you that, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Non, we wouldn’t invite you and then put you to work,” Logan said.

“Oh?” Leo walked back towards them, around the kitchen island. “I’m not here to work?”

There Logan went again, cheeks flaming. Finn squeezed his hand harder.

“Do you want to see the courts?” Logan asked hoarsely.

He squeezed Finn’s hand back.

A week went by in a flash. It felt like that first week with Finn, when he had grabbed Logan by both hands and yanked him out of the lonesome dark. It felt old as time, and brand new. Logan’s heart pounded, his laughs tumbled, and yet he’d never been calmer. Never more at ease. He’d never trained harder in his life, either. Finn on the sidelines, demanding more, more, more. Leo standing opposite him on clay, on hard court, in sun, in shade, in the night lights, demanding more, more, more. And Logan wanted to give. It filled Logan right up to give it to them.

He’d never felt stronger. He’d never played better. He’d never slept better, Finn cradling him, tightly pressed all along his back. He’d never eaten better, Leo’s delicious handiwork, Finn mixing him a drink, Logan helping him chop and prepare. Card games. Movies. And the laughter. Logan would live and swear by their laughter.

He was standing behind the outdoor bar by the pool and Finn and Leo were in the shallow end with a water set of paddle tennis. Watching them, listening to the tic tac of the light ball…Logan had never wanted to see two people play more. Really play. He’d give anything to match Finn’s grace with Leo’s lighthearted strides on a court in front of an audience. Anything at all.

“Did you just topspin this fucking ball?” Leo laughed. He was wearing sunglasses and his hair was darkened and slicked back by the water. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“I did use to play professionally!” Finn fired back.

“Honey, I had your poster on my wall—I know!”

Logan dropped the ice cubes he was holding and the clattered down to the floor in every direction.

“Oh did you now?”

Logan smiled to himself as he stooped to pick up the ice. He’d told Finn that and Finn knew it. They still smiled about it sometimes after spending a day with Leo in whatever city the three of them were lucky enough to be in.

And that one night. Staring up at a dark ceiling with Finn, just the two of them. Finn had asked what had felt, at the time, like a daring sort of question. Do you think he ever wished he could be with one of us? And, who do you think he liked better? Probably you. You always played better.

Logan had had so many words in his head that he could only get out a few. But he plays more like you.

Logan and Finn stared up at their dark bedroom ceiling on the tenth day. The next tournament was fast approaching. U.S. Open. Not far to travel. Hard court. Leo’s surface. But for now it was quiet. Leo in the next room.

This might’ve be Logan’s favorite part of life, actually. Though it was so hard to choose. But this. Finn’s head resting against his chest, nudging into Logan’s fingers through his hair while Finn said anything and everything that came into his mind…This had to be in his top three.

“You’re drop shots are stronger,” Finn mumbled. His fingers were, maybe without him fully realizing it, leaving goosebumps across Logan’s chest and stomach in the trail of his fingertips. “You have more control, it’s really good. It’s like Leo’s.”

“I think so, too,” Logan said.

“You’re the strongest you’ve been.” Finn pressed his palm over Logan’s core. “Here.”

“Leo’s hard to play over and over.”

“It’s beautiful to watch.”

Logan turned his head to run his lips along Finn’s forehead. “I like it when you watch.”

Finn smiled, turning his face into Logan’s chest. “Lo.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you get the sense…” Finn began. “That…Hm.”

“Hm?” Logan reached down and pulled Finn’s thigh further across his hips, smoothing a palm under the hem of his shorts.

“Do you get the sense that Leo…” He was whispering.

Leo, in the next room.

The sense. Logan’s fingers pressed into the muscle of Finn’s thigh, trailing down towards the bend of his knee.

Finn adjusted so he was looking down at Logan. He reached up and brushed a thumb against his eyelashes, then under his eye, then over his full bottom lip.

“You know that I’m yours,” Finn whispered.

Logan gave a small nod.

“And you’re mine.”

“Toujours.”

“If I were to say to you,” Finn whispered. “That I want to watch Leo kiss just…” He bent, aiming for his favorite soft part under Logan’s jaw, the part that spent more time pink from Finn’s teeth than not. “Here…As much as I want to kiss it myself…”

Logan drew in a slow breath, calming himself with the feeling of Finn’s hair slipping through his fingers. “Remember our Wimbledon dance? Leo and I.”

“God. Of course I do.”

“There’s this…feeling.” Logan cleared his throat a little, heat rising through his core. “With you. When you’re…” Logan squeezed his eyes closed and laughed. “Ugh, stop looking at me like that.”

Finn was grinning, eyebrows raised.

“Tell me,” Finn said, then dropped to a whisper again. “Tell me.”

Logan covered his eyes with a hand. “Non, c’est—embarrassed.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere…” Finn whispered, then took one of Logan’s wrists, then the other, and held them above his head. “When I’m what?”

“You know.” Logan’s hands flexed in Finn’s grip and—there it was. Light. The ball on his racket. Finn kissing him in velvet curtains. Finn gripping him in a hug so tight after a win that it took his breath away. Leo’s hand under his jacket. Finn’s gentle fingers massaging his sore ankles after a long day. Finn winning at cards. Leo winning at cards. Their faces when Logan won at cards, so so beautifully competitive, all of them. Finn’s head on his chest and dark ceilings. Leo pushing his head under the water in the pool, then pulling him back up again to breathe and laugh. Leo falling asleep against his shoulder half way through a movie.

“I do.” Finn had been watching him quietly. Brown eyes. Chocolate. Sugared espresso. Sweet. “I do know…”

You know what I’d choose? You. You. You.

“Leo, too,” Logan said. “Dancing…Laughing together these weeks. Leo, too.”

“Look at what this talk got you all like…” Finn whispered as he kissed Logan’s hot cheeks. “Look at you.”

Logan let out a short breath, hands tightening and loosening in air. He felt like he’d burn up if he didn’t get a grip on something, but Finn’s body pinned him.

“Settle down, I got you.” He captured Logan’s next sound in a kiss. “This? You want Leo doing this?”

“Shh,” Logan said, but his eyes slipped closed. He felt heavy. And light. “If he hears you he’ll think we’re—we’re weird or something.”

“Oh baby,” Finn whistled low, giving his head a slow shake. “I think weird will be the last word on his mind.”

“How do you know?” Logan worried.

“How many hours do you think I’ve spent watching the two of you play each other?” Finn kissed his jaw, his ear, his temple. “You think I don’t know how he looks at you?”

“How?” Logan swallowed a desperate sound. “How, how?”

“The way I look at you.” Finn’s mouth dragged along his cheek, back to his. “You think I don’t know how you look at him?”

Logan’s fists clenched in Finn’s hold and Finn let him go so they could tumble onto their sides with Logan’s arms around his waist.

Finn smiled. “It’s how you look at me.”

#on the line lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finnlo #lelo #sunfish #tennis au

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