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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year ago

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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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senualothbrok · 3 months ago

Text

Here

Summary: After you save him from Orin's clutches, Gale has some things to work through. You show him that he is not alone.

Featuring a fireside chat with Astarion.

A response to this anon ask. I hope you like it 💜

Word count: 2.1k

Non-18+. Mild hurt/comfort. Gale x reader/Tav.

AO3 link

A/N: You can watch Gale's reactions to being rescued from Orin's lair here (at 12.32) and here.

Thank you so much @dekariosclan for beta reading and being my marvellous Gale consultant, as always!

****

His scream tears you from sleep. It is shrill, piercing, a desperate flinch against untold horrors. You reach out for him as he gasps, clawing at his orb scar, choking for breath.

When you touch him, he thrashes, still caught in the talons of his nightmare. You see the scars left by Orin in his cloying sweat, his shaking frame, his subsiding shouts as he crumples into you. He cannot hide them from you, much as he tries.

“It was a dream.” You press his head against your chest, twining your fingers through his tangled hair. “You’re safe. You're home.”

He does not speak for a long time. His eyelashes flutter against your skin, his heartbeat jolting through you as he searches frantically for his glade of calm. When he eventually finds it, you feel his hands come to rest on the small on your back, steadying, anchoring. You hold him, torn apart by a gratitude as strong as grief. He is here. You could have lost him, but he is here. You will never let go of him again.

He clears his throat. When he moves back to look at you, his smile does not quite meet his eyes.

“My apologies, my love. I didn't mean to wake you–”

His voice is hoarse, broken. You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologise for, Gale. Absolutely nothing.”

He looks away for a moment. You know you have a brief opening, now, before the mask comes up, before the jolly dismissals and self-deprecating quips resume their well-worn routines. You place your hand on his cheek.

“Gale, you know you can talk to me, don’t you? Everything that happened–”

He jerks his head, taking your hand in his. His skin is clammy, and there is a hollowness in his gaze, though it is still tender as rain-kissed earth.

“I'm fine, Tav. Please don't worry yourself.” A brisk smile of reassurance, warring with the dark circles under his eyes. “Of all the things on your very full plate, my welfare is not something you need to burden yourself with.”

You are about to object, but the kiss he plants on your cheek is swift and firm. When he rises from your shared bedroll, you feel bereft.

“I'm quite alright. Nothing that a bit of fresh air and a quick walk won't cure.”

He combs his fingers through his hair, squaring his shoulders. The walls are up, and he is retreating into the night. Even as you ask, you know what his answer will be.

“Should I come with you?”

He huffs, bending down to kiss your forehead. “No, please. Rest. I deprived you of a good sleep tonight, and gods knows how many nights before this. I want you to take what rest you can for our battles ahead. I won’t stray far. Don’t worry.”

You cup his face tightly, desperately. “I love you.”

This time, his eyes smile before he turns away. “I love you too.”

*****

In the distance, streaks of dawn tease at the bruises in the sky. Sleep is a triviality that eludes you. You huddle around the campfire, fretting, trying not to mark the hours that Gale has been gone. Trying not to imagine all of the nightmares which were until recently Gale’s reality.

You fail. You think of how Orin must have flayed Gale’s mind from his body as he struggled, powerless and alone. You imagine his terror, not just of torture and death, but of the orb inside him. And you wonder whether he despaired as he waited, doubting that his love would come for him, fearing that his friends had forgotten him. Convinced that he was once again abandoned to die.

‘Of all the things on your very full plate, my welfare is not something you need to burden yourself with.’

You bury your face in your hands, a chaos of panic, love and guilt. It takes you a moment to register the presence beside you.

“Gods, you look awful.”

Astarion is peering at you like he is examining a torn gown. A trickle of blood stains his collar, the triumph of a late night hunt. He wrinkles his nose as he studies you.

“Do I need to have a word with Gale about laying off on” – his hand circles vaguely – “whatever it is the two of you do at night?”

You do not have the energy to glare at him. Instead, you glance towards the edges of camp, scanning for signs of Gale’s return. When you see nothing, you sigh. Astarion arches an eyebrow.

“Do I really need to explain why Gale might not be in the mood for that?”

Astarion tilts his head. There is understanding in the pause that follows. Astarion had been the one who helped you get Gale down from Orin’s altar, after all. He had seen the turmoil in Gale’s eyes, the blood on his limbs before the healing spells. He had felt Gale’s resistance when you both laid hands on him, easing him up. The fractured moments before Gale’s usual cheery gratitude snapped into place. Astarion would have recognised the signs better than anyone.

“He’s been having nightmares,” you manage. “But he won’t talk about them. He woke up screaming tonight. Then he went for a walk. He’s been gone for two hours.”

Astarion frowns. “If you’re worried for his safety, the wizard is more than capable of blasting people to smithereens.” He purses his lips. “Assuming he’s not magically restrained, like Orin managed–”

You wince at your rising dread. Gale is an archwizard, you remind yourself, not a defenceless babe. You fight the urge to smother him in care, to protect him and keep him safe at all costs. It is not what he needs. But perhaps you do not know what he truly needs.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Astarion stares at you for a while. He leans back, brows furrowed, and you suddenly wonder if you give him enough credit. Perhaps there are things Astarion sees, despite his usual habit of deflecting things with thinly veiled insults.

“Sometimes, there are things that are better left unsaid.” He curls his lip. “Even for Gale.”

You ignore the barb, spinning towards him. “So Gale should just soldier on? Stiff upper lip, the show must go on? Even when he’s falling apart?”

“So dramatic, darling.” He tuts. “Who’s falling apart? He seems fine to me.”

You clench your hands. “The nightmares are getting worse, Astarion. Gods knows what Orin did to him.”

From the feathering of Astarion’s jaw, you know he can guess.

“And he won’t talk to me. Like he doesn’t want to be a burden. Like he’s sorry…” You scoff. “As if it’s his fault, that he’s the one who let me down.”

Astarion narrows his eyes. “If you’re suggesting that it’s your—”

“No, no,” you huff. “No, this isn’t about me. It’s about Gale.”

Astarion sighs. His gaze is weary as a scar.

“Some things are too horrific to share, darling. So atrocious that it’d be a nightmare to even hear them. He just needs to grit his teeth and get through. Survive.”

You struggle to keep the anguish from your voice. “Does he have to do that alone?”

Astarion’s mouth tightens. He averts his gaze. “Maybe that’s what he’s used to.”

You are taken aback by the resignation in Astarion’s words. Conviction rises in you, an unstoppable tide that weaves through the tents of each and every member of the family you have found.

“But he isn’t alone anymore. He doesn’t have to keep it to himself. He isn’t a burden, and there’s nothing he could do or say to drive me away. I’m here for him. We’re all here for him.”

There is a quiver in Astarion’s features. You have a sense of a door cracking open. A glimpse of something ancient and hidden.

“It takes a while,” he says quietly. “To get used to that. To believe it.”

The silence that falls over you is both heavy and light. Within it, a lifetime of loneliness and fear crashes against the battle-forged bonds of love and friendship. And you believe, with every fibre of your being, that love will endure.

Astarion jerks his head behind you. You turn, your eyes filling as they fall on what they seek.

“But if anyone can remind him,” you hear Astarion chuckle, “it’s you.”

*****

When you return to Gale’s tent, you try to settle him, but he is a flurry. His movements drag with exhaustion, yet are manic with determination.

“Is there something I can get you to help you sleep? A cup of tea? A warming spell? Do you need a–”

You embrace him. His breath catches, and you clasp him so close you can feel the points of muscle and bone. The weight of him, the miracle of him beside you. You will never take him for granted.

“Just you,” you whisper. “Here, with me.”

His lips tingle against your neck, his grasp tightening around your waist. For an eternity, neither of you let go. You are haunted by the shadow of your separation, chasing away Orin’s ghost with the strength of your need. When he dips back, his brows are steepled with concern.

“You’re troubled.” He traces his thumb across your jawline. “What troubles you?”

After all this time, he still does not understand. He cannot see how someone could love him so deeply that his pain becomes their own. He still cannot believe that someone could respond to his love by giving him their whole heart. That you could love him as he loves you. An outpouring of the soul. A sacred offering, steadfast and unending.

“That you’re troubled.” Your fingers interlace with his. “That you think your struggles are a burden to me - that I wouldn't want to share everything with you, including your suffering.”

He grimaces so sharply, it is almost a flinch.

“My love,” he heaves. “You quite literally have the weight of the world on your shoulders. It torments me to know I’ve added to that load, rather than easing it. If I weren’t such a fool to fall for Orin’s trap–”

You shake your head. The force of it stills him.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Gale. What happened wasn’t your fault. And what you’re going through now…You don’t have to pretend that everything’s alright. I know it isn’t. I hear it, I see it, every day, every night.”

His eyes widen, the wrinkle between them deepening. You sense the knee-jerk apology that bubbles within him. Your grasp his hand tighter, the words tumbling from you like the sea surging against the shore.

“I love you. I’m here for you. I’ll never abandon you, no matter what happens. You can tell me anything. Everything. Whatever you want. And you can trust me, just like I trust you. Just like I know you love me, and will always be there for me.”

For a while, he does not speak. His gaze roams your face, searching for signs of doubt, hesitation, disapproval. But all you can give him is love.

You draw him back, sinking down to your bed roll. He softens as you curl into each other, his arm wrapping around your body. Your head nestles between his neck and shoulder, and you breathe in the sour tang of his sweat. He inhales deeply, nuzzling into your hair. Memorising you, just as you are soaking him in.

“You kept me alive, you know,” he whispers. “When Orin toyed with me, tore at me. The thought of you, your courage, your kindness. Your love. She could never break me, no matter what vile cruelties she inflicted. I had you.”

Your tears trail into the nook of his collarbone. His voice trembles.

“My foolishness, my carelessness… it could have got you killed. And when you saved me – when, yet again, you saved me from the precipice – I resolved to do better. I told myself the least I could do was cause as little hassle as possible.”

You lurch forward, your vision a blur as you take his face in your hands.

“Gale,” you breathe. “I love you more than anyone and anything. You are not, and will never be, a hassle. A burden. Never. You're the man I love, and you're everything to me.”

His eyes are bright as he brushes away your tears. You watch the shadows lift from his features as the truth of your heart washes over him, wave by wave. Slowly, reverently, he presses a kiss to each of your palms, holding them against his cheeks.

“What have I done to deserve you?”

There is awe in his voice. Wonder. And shimmering within it, the beginnings of acceptance.

You lean forward, circling the tip of his nose with your own. He lets out a shaky breath, his hands weaving around your back, pulling you closer.

“You don't need to do anything. Just be here, with me.”

You smile into each others’ lips, two rivers joining in the sea.

“I can do that.”

********

A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to know what you think as always, so don't be a stranger 🫶

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 9 months ago

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.

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n0tamused · 3 months ago

Note

I read about this practice in china called "ghost wedding" where one of or two deceased individuals are ceremoniously married and i was wondering if you could do a ghost!reader(fem) x zhongli where she just hangs around him as his ghost wife and it's just cute and fluffy(no necr0phil!a involved btw)

A/n: Hello! Thank you so much for your request. This turned out a bit more bittersweet than just cute and fluffy but I did my best to stay close to the request idea. I have researched the tradition, but I still kept it a bit more vague here just out of respect. If there's anything wrong with how I wrote this I would appreaciate it if you kindly let me know <3 I haven't written for Zhongli, this sweet old man, in a good long while too aaa.. Hope you enjoy!

Contents: Zhongli x fem!reader, angst, bittersweet, dead s/o

Ko-fi

Lover's Oath

The morning was fresh and crisp even as the sun sent lances of light through the gloomy clouds, bathing the earth in scarce golden rays. Zhongli had only began to stir, his dreamless sleep having provided little comfort to his mind which the erosion slowly began to gnaw on. The other side of the bed still held your weight, feeling wisps of your warmth that he forbid himself to forget. You were there (once), even if he did not feel you.

Sometimes he could catch glimpses of a starlit shadow from the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look at it his eyes only met the vastness of his home. You were there (once), illuminating the home with your presence alone.

Zhongli rose from his bed, the sheets sliding off of him as if someone helped him to undress himself off the covers. There were two cups on the counter where he had drank his tea before bedtime, deep into the night, and the liquid in the other cup was cold, yet he could swear some of it was missing. He did not dwell on it, only smiling as he took it as a sign of your presence for it meant you were still with him.

Hu Tao had not been so surprised when her Consultant confessed his plan to go through with this ‘ghost wedding’, yet she did worry for the old man’s heart. He had requested her presence at the procession, although the leading would be led by another person, he said. Hu Tao could not deny this invitation, it was sacred and sad and close to her own profession. One heart, one soul, one balance, that was what the marriage meant to him, it meant everything. Traditional or not, he had lingered long amidst the people of Liyue and began to feel in the same way they do, and your death had left a hole where his heart once was. So many years of union shattered in a mere moment. He thought he could mourn and pretend to move on, but the thought of your spirit becoming restless or barred from peace kept him up at night. He couldn’t get himself to get over the idea of separation from you, and so he went through with the marriage.

Ever since then, his home didn’t feel as empty, although it remained barren of your presence in the real sense of the world. You were there, he knew, but he could never touch you or hear you unless he was dreaming. And when he dreamt he dreamt of the two of you in places far away and bathed in golden colors and amber hues, his long locks of hair twirling between your teasing fingers. You’re smiling at him, laying in the field of flowers - glaze lilies and qingxin - and they seem to swallow you, cradle you. And he comes over to hug you as well, rolling with you in the bed of flowers the two of you planted.

His hands are led by something that lies beyond his mind while he hums a tune, the deep warmth of his tone rumbling through his throat, sounding like warm honey. He smiles at the memories, the warmer ones, as they appear behind his eyelids whenever he blinks and silently he sits down to drink the tea his hands poured, your cup now filled with a steaming blend of herbs that you once loved to go and pick with him. He could imagine you holding it now, sniffing at the aromatic steam and going in to taste it before he says “Be careful, it is still too hot”.

When he leaves home, the warmth leaves as well and work consumes him. Hu Tao had noticed his lack of conversation, his usual chattiness replaced by longer paragraphs on the paper, and she had made a habit of stopping by to question him and how he was, if he needed anything. But every time she did, Zhongli would smile his sweet smile and tell her everything was alright, he felt better now.

And he did. He just missed you, he told himself as he ventured back home, noticing one light had been turned on, or perhaps he left it that way since morning. But the cup of tea was missing some of the liquid and there was a smell of incense in the air. A few petals from the flowers he brought the other day were scattered around the house, and one petal, more vibrant than the others, lay in the middle of his pillow.

You were here. He wasn’t alone. His wife was here, his dearest.

The thought made him smile, sadly, but he smiled earnestly until his cheeks hurt and his eyes swelled with salty tears.

That night he left your cup of tea full. He hugged his pillow that night as well, his nose searching for your scent in the fabric and that night he dreamed of you, waiting for him in front of a house amidst golden clouds.

#-better an arrow than you #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x female reader #zhongli imagine #zhongli drabble #zhongli angst #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #angst and fluff #bittersweet lol

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fatehbaz · 2 years ago

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---

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 · 11 months ago

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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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