#she deserves death for what she did. she looks at the bruising on her throat and wonders why it wasn't enough

[cuteniaarts]

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

Who's the fairest of them all?

[viiiiiiiiiin]

How they confess their love for you !! PT. 3

Includes: Nami , Law , Kid , Caesar , Ace , Sabo , Doflamingo , Rosinante.

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3 (here)

Masterlist

Cat Burglar: Nami

She could tell , but she was good at hiding it. She felt like she didn't deserve you , so she never tried to make a move.

Until her feelings continuously grew and grew. She couldn't stand it.

Why did you make her feel like this ? You were so kind to her , but so was the rest of the crew. Why were you different ?

To her , you were special. She'd find herself looking at things in stores that she thinks you'd like.

One day , she brought one of those things to the Sunny after a big battle.

She was worried about losing you , but she knew you could handle yourself. But you got injured. Very , very injured. She was extremely worried because you've been out for days.

She came to your bedside and placed a jewel on the bedside. She sat on the bed next to your sleeping form and started talking to you as if you could hear.

Little did she know , her presence awoke you.

She told you how she felt and called you stupid for getting so hurt. While she was crying , you placed your bruised hand on her arm and told her you felt the same.

She was so surprised that she slapped you and started shaking you violently for worrying her.

Surgeon of Death: Trafalgar D. Water Law

At first , he thought something was wrong with him. He stayed up for nights on end trying tor research what could be wrong with him.

He looked up his symptoms in any book he could find. He knew a lot of illnesses because he was a doctor , but this was foreign to him. It worried him. Was it something like White Lead ?

He continues searching. Heated body (similar to a fever) , heart skipping beats irregularly , clammy hands , etc.

The only conclusion he could draw was the love sickness that any former Empress from Amazon Lily had.

But he wasn't an empress. Then , it clicked. He was in love. He wasn't sick , he was just LOVE sick. For you , no less.

He talked to Ikaku about how he felt and she squealed happily at his confession.

She bombarded him with advice , flowers , snacks , etc. She told him to just tell you.

When he gathered the courage , he did just that. He brought those flowers to your desk and waited for you. When you came in , the anxiety set in.

He cleared his throat and nervously confessed his feelings for you.

You laughed and told him you felt the same. He felt like a weight was lifted from his chest.

Eustass "Captain" Kid

Similarly to Law , he thought he was sick. He stayed in his office for DAYS , mostly to avoid you.

He thought you were sick too. How else did he feel sick around you ? You were contagious.

He told Killer about his sickness and he laughed his ass off at him.

Kid yelled at him and told him to stop , but he didn't.

When Killer calmed himself , he told Kid that he was a dumbass. That he wasn't sick , but in love.

Why would he be in LOVE ? THE Captain Kid !

He denied it and shooed Killer out.

But Killer pushed him to tell you. Every. Day.

Eventually , he caved.

When you brought him dinner , his mouth spewed out all he felt. He turned extremely red and angirly grumbled.

That was until you kissed his chin and told him you felt the same.

He turned even redder and shooed you out of his office.

Caesar Clown

He didn't actually understand why he fell in love with you. Was it your power ? Your looks ? Your influence ? He wasn't sure.

Everyone noticed. He would literally stumble around and make mistakes whenever you come around.

Monet teased him about it often. He shut down everything she said and would yell at her for even suggesting that he liked you.

He's had hookups and such before , but he's never fallen in love with any of his flings. He was a master scientist , why would he need love ?

But he fell for you.

Hard , actually.

He tried his best to avoid you but it never worked. You were stronger than him , so you had to protect him. That was your job.

While working in another part of his lab , Monet just straight up told you that he's in love with you.

You laughed and told her that you knew. You followed her to his current location , and you both told him what you conversed about.

He was embarrassed as hell and yelled at both of you.

He shooed Monet out and talked to you in private.

He , nervously , told you that it was true.

You told him you felt the same way and shocked the hell outta him.

Firefist: Portgas D. Ace

It was SO obvious to the entire crew.

He would become nervous and a blushing mess around you.

Even Whitebeard noticed.

Ace didn't , however.

He was never actually in love. He has had hookups , yes , but never a significant other. He didnt feel as if he deserved love.

But you made him feel like he did.

You were so sweet to him and would love him like he was your lover.

Marco , Thatch , and Izo would tease him about his little crush on you. Anytime they did , he denied it.

But Izo told you one day while you two were hanging out.

You told him that you felt the same way.

Izo and Thatch pushed you two together and got you both to confess in the kitchen

When you both confirmed that you were dating , the entire crew threw a party.

They just wanted an excuse to party. Sigh.

Flame Emperor: Sabo

Koala noticed before he did , but he noticed a bit after.

He chose not to act on it , however. He was too busy with the Revolutionary Army for a relationship.

But Koala was OBSESSED with the idea of you and him dating. She would continuously tell anyone who would listen about how much she shipped you and him.

She even told Dragon.

Dragon supports.

One day , Koala sets you two up in the kitchen of the current Revolutionary base.

She locks you both in there and leaves , waiting for you both to confess.

You confessed first because he wouldn't budge.

He told you he felt the same.

Hours after being locked in there , you both had fallen asleep together in the corner when Koala came to get you both.

She took pictures and showed them to Dragon.

Heavenly Demon: Donquixote Doflamingo

He knew he was obsessed with you. He always wanted you close , would kill anyone that was brave enough to confess to you , etc.

He's had many flings (men and women) , but he threw them away like they were toys.

But you were different to him.

You were headstrong , brave , and quite strong. It intrigued him.

How you held onto your dreams like they were part of the last meal you'd ever eat.

How you were so kind , even if he degraded you and hurt you.

You always came back.

One day , he called you to his throne room. While you sat in front of him , he offered you a place in the family as his Queen / King / Royal.

You weren't allowed to deny. If you said no , he would cut your head off. But you didn't even think of that.

You were in love with him too and told him so.

Now , you're the Queen / King / Royal of Dressrosa alongside your king , Doflamingo.

Corazon: Donquixote Rosinante

When you joined the Donquixote Family , he knew he had to get you out of there. Just like the children.

He normally wouldn't care about the others in the family because it wasn't his mission. However , your heart wasn't in the same place as theirs.

It intrigued him.

You were kind , smart , caring , and you took care of Baby 5 , Buffalo , and Law as if they were your own.

He immediately fell in love with you.

When taking Law away from Dressrosa , he took you with him and explained everything.

While Law slept on an island one day , he confessed his feelings to you by the fire he started.

He was red in the face and extremely nervous. He even lit himself on fire.

After dousing him in water , you told him you felt the same.

But smacked him and told him to be careful because he hurt himself.

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

Call It Love

Steve Harrington x Reader

All credit of images to original owners

“It’s Steve.” Robin’s voice was shaky and it made your knees feel uneasy, swallowing the lump in your throat you drove straight to his house.

When you did get there you saw his car park haphazardly in the drive and the sob that was suffocating you only got worse.

He would never park his car like that unless a) he wasn’t driving it or b) he was in a rush. Or worst of all c) he was in such a bad way he actually let someone else drive and was in a rush to get inside.

Deciding you probably didn’t have time to think too much about that you parked your own car just as terribly behind his and not even closing the door as you ran into your boyfriend’s house.

Having hardly heard from him since he dropped you home two nights ago you were already worried.

When you got inside you gasped at the sight of him, covering your mouth as the sob finally escaped Steve, Nancy, Eddie and Robin all looked over to you.

Steve’s face turned thunderous at the sight of you, turning he barely hesitated as he grabbed Eddie by the shirt and threw him against the wall.

“I told you not to call her!” He seethed and even in the moment you tried to think if you had ever seen him that angry.

“Steve it was me, she deserves to know what’s going on.” Robin intervened quickly making him release a nervous Eddie.

They all looked at you, Steve stepping forward cautiously not to upset you even more.

He was dirty, shirtless bar from a denim vest that definitely wasn’t his, bleeding, covered in bruises.

A vast contrast to how you are used to seeing your usually clean cut boyfriend, the last time you had seen him he was wearing a crisp white polo and his stupid family video vest. But his skin was tanned from the spring sun Hawkins had got, his hair perfectly placed.

“What.. what the hell happened to you.” You choked out not taking your eyes off him, pupils moving to try and take in every injury on his body, he took another tentative step towards you and holding out his hands as if approaching a wild animal.

Yours were shaking.

“Baby, baby look at me, I’m fine!” He protested trying to get you to hear him but he knew the noose type bruise around his neck was louder, the chunk of skin missing in his side and bleeding was blaring.

“Steve.” Your chin wobbled and he didn’t know what you needed in that moment.

Hell he didn’t know what he needed and it was choking him.

“I’m fine, you need to look at me okay?” He coaxed just one more time and took the final step to get to you, when his fingers brushed yours to get you to look him in the eye you flinched.

“Baby I’m okay.” He begged as you finally looked him in the eyes, they were the same warm honey that looked at you with so much love it gives you butterflies.

Except this time they made you cry.

You flung your arms around his neck sobbing into the crook between his jaw and collarbone. His arms pulled you as close as possible and he rubbed your back.

You barely had the will in you to let him go, and he wasn’t sure his heart had ever pounded that hard in his life.

Robin bit on her bottom lip knowing now why Steve was so adamant on not calling you. He knew you would hate to see him in this state and he knew you would worry yourself half to death.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked softly and gently pulling away to kiss him on the lips.

One of his hands moved to hold the back of your neck, the other on your back still trying to hold you close to him.

“Yes baby, god I’m so fine.” He breathed out kissing you once more, finally a small sense of relief coming over him that you were here.

Maybe a little grateful now that Robin had called you.

But he won’t admit that.

“What happened to you?” You asked again looking over all his bruises and realised when you unwrapped your hands his blood was smeared all over them. “Oh my god.” You whispered scared and he took them in his own, the shaking not going unmissed.

“I’m getting cleaned up and I’ll be back to normal in no time.” He reassured kissing your knuckles and while you nodded at his words you spoke again.

“Tell me what happened.” You demanded and he sighed heavily.

“I don’t want to.” His voice was honest and firm, he threw a glare at Robin and then sighed heavily.

“Well tough Harrington because if I ever get a call like this again, and I find you in this state if you aren’t already dead I will kill you myself.” You snapped putting a hand on your hip just to prove the sentiment, and all it did was make him grin.

It was real and warm and it took over his whole face.

“There she is. My beautiful girl.” He kissed your lips, your neck, your nose, your forehead and even though you let out a relieved giggle at the normal reaction from your boyfriend you still didn’t have an explanation.

“Can someone please fill me in?” You all but begged as they all avoided your gaze.

“Can you help me get cleaned up baby? And I’ll tell you everything.” He promised before leading you down his hallway into the small mostly unused bathroom the Harringtons fitted two years ago.

He showered and you watched from your spot on the toilet seat as all the blood, dirt and grime ran off his body. His arm leaning on the tiles ahead of him as the water washed down his back, his muscles clenched and he hissed in pain at the impact but you wiped away your worried tears before he could see. And when he was ready and the tap squeaked off you were waiting with a plush white towel wrapping it around him.

After what felt like hours of silence he had taken your spot on the toilet seat, the first aid kit open beside him on the counter and you began fixing him up.

Stopping when he winced but starting again when he looked up at you his eyes all sorry and sad.

“Is this a bite mark?” You whispered as you made it down the scariest looking wound below his ribs.

“Yeah. Demon bats, big ones.” You scoffed out a laugh at his joke and rolled your eyes.

“Harrington, come on. I know you don’t want me to be worried but demon bats, I’m not that stupid.” You huffed out with a soft laugh before looking back up at him.

His silence kind of worrying and the sincere look on his face wiped the smile straight off yours.

“You remember when Will Byers went missing…”

-

It wasn’t until nearly 2am when you crawled into his bed with him.

You rejoined the rest of them after Steve told you as much as he could as quickly as he could. He cursed himself for involving you when you cried and you made him promise to tell you any and every time he could potentially be in danger.

When you got downstairs you hugged all of your friends tightly and ordered them pizza. Once they were all asleep in different parts of the house you and Steve also went to bed.

“Why are you all the way over there?” He whispered as you lay on your back firmly on your side of his bed.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You whispered back rolling onto your side to look at him.

“Baby, it’s hurting me more that you’re so far away.” He whined in his usual needy tone, with a giggle and a squeal he yanked you into his side.

Curling into him you took a deep breath of his scent and pressed your lips onto his chest with a soft kiss.

“I’m sorry you’ve been going through this alone.” You heard yourself whispering.

“I haven’t been alone, I’ve always known you’d be right here, waiting for me whenever the hell was over. I don’t know what I’d of done if I didn’t have you to fight my way back to.” He told you before pressing a kiss onto your hair line.

“I love you Steve Harrington.” You told him into the darkness, his chest rose and fell quickly and your words seemed to hit him.

“Yeah, I love you too baby. More than you know.” His arms tightened around you and while you were careful of his wounds you decided you weren’t ever going to let your Steve Harrington get hurt like this again.

Even if you had to get to Vecna himself, Steve is too good to suffer this.

And while you were thinking of that Steve was thinking about how he could keep you so far away from this mess so you never had to worry about it again.

[steddieas-shegoes]

hate to remember you like this

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'angst with a happy ending' rated m wc: 1000 cw: mention of car accident, medical emergency, temporary amnesia tags: post-break up, assumed unrequited feelings, getting back together

------------------------------

"Eddie, it's Steve."

Robin's words echoed in his head as he boarded the plane.

He left Steve three years ago because Steve told him to go, told him that if his dreams were so big that he couldn't stay then he had to leave and not come back.

Steve refused to talk to him since, refused to visit when all the kids came to his shows, refused to show up to Christmas at Wayne's.

So he shouldn't be on this flight to see Steve.

But Robin had insisted that Steve asked for him, and Eddie couldn't ignore the immediate need to be there for him.

Despite time, distance, and the constant feelings of regret mixed with heartbreak and anger, he still only wanted Steve.

He didn't know what happened, just that Steve had been in a medically induced coma for over 24 hours and the moment he woke up, he was begging for someone to get Eddie.

Robin had mentioned that he didn't seem to have all of his memories, but didn't tell him any details on which memories he may be missing.

He sat in his seat and hoped that whatever he was walking into would be closure for his heart.

--------------------------------

The kids were all sitting in the waiting room when he arrived at the hospital.

The moment Will saw him, hell broke loose.

"Who called you?" he asked.

"Robin. Are they letting people back?" Eddie asked.

"You shouldn't be here," Will said.

Eddie looked at his stance and couldn't help but smile. Will had grown incredibly protective of Steve after Eddie left, much to everyone's surprise.

"He asked for me. I promised I'd come if he ever needed me."

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

"Room 186. He was awake a little while ago, but they're only letting two people in at a time and Robin and Joyce have been with him for the last hour."

"Thanks."

Room 186 wasn't far down the hall. He could hear Joyce's motherly tone fussing while Robin sounded like she was rambling to herself.

When he walked into the room, his breath caught in his throat.

Steve was bruised, and half of his head was wrapped in bandages that looked like they needed to be changed.

But he gave Eddie a soft smile.

A smile he didn't deserve.

"Baby, tell Joyce to stop worrying herself to death over me. I'm fine."

Baby.

Robin and Joyce glanced over at Eddie, waiting for his reaction.

"I got it from here, Joyce," Eddie smiled at her and Robin, understanding coming over him swiftly.

"Alright, Eddie's got ya for a bit, but I'll be in the waiting room if you need me," Robin said, patting Steve's hand.

She gave Eddie a death glare on her way out of the room, silently suggesting that he would need a room at the hospital if he dared to hurt Steve in any way.

He sat down next to Steve, taking in his injuries.

"What took you so long?" Steve asked him, pouting slightly.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Got caught up with the band."

"But it's Wednesday. You don't have practice on Wednesdays."

Eddie sighed.

"Stevie, what year is it?" Had no one checked him for a concussion at any point in the last 12 hours?

"1988."

"It's 1991. You remember my band made it?" Eddie was going to get murdered by Robin for ruining whatever fantasy Steve's mind had settled on.

"What? But-" Steve's brows drew together as he tried to work through his own thoughts and memories. "You guys made it?"

"Yeah, we did."

They sat in silence while Steve processed.

Eddie felt the moment his memory started to come back, the room suddenly going cold.

"You left."

"Steve-"

"You left me," his voice broke, much like it had the night he screamed at Eddie as he walked out the door.

"I did."

"Why'd you come?"

"You asked me to. I'll always come when you ask."

Steve looked at him, his eyes heavy from whatever cocktail of drugs were flowing through his system, glassy with unshed tears.

"Then why did you leave?"

"You asked me to."

"I wanted you to stay. I always wanted you to stay."

"I wanted you to come with me."

They were both tense, Eddie's hands curled into fists against his thighs and Steve's body curling in on itself, preparing for a fight Eddie wasn't going to give him.

"I couldn't."

"I know."

"So, you'll leave again and I'll stay?" Steve asked, choking back a wet sound that Eddie recognized as a sob.

"I'll be here as long as you need me."

Steve searched his face.

"Why now?"

"Because you asked. Because I know what it's like to leave you and I know it's not worth missing you." Eddie gulped. "Because I love you too much to walk away from you again. Not unless it's what you want."

"I never want that."

"Then I'll be right here," Eddie reached for his hand, holding it gently in his own.

"You can't, though. You made it, Eds."

"I'll figure it out. We'll figure it out. Okay?"

Steve stayed silent for a while, but didn't pull his hand away.

"You'll stay while we figure it out?" he finally asked.

"Yeah. As long as it takes."

"Seal it with a kiss?" Steve asked, the way he did when he asked for Eddie to promise that he'd take out the trash, or stop at the store, or love him always.

Eddie leaned in and pressed his lips to Steve's.

Steve smiled as he pulled away.

"First thing to figure out: a new car."

"You totaled it?"

"She was good to me for so long. Unfortunately, she took things worse than I did."

Hard to believe looking at how swollen and bruised most of Steve was.

But they sat and talked through his plans for another car, something he could take on longer road trips to visit all the kids at school, see a few of Eddie's shows.

They'd figure it out.

[diana-rose-25]

☆Hidden Divination Teaser

pairing/s: Hashira! Kyojuro Rengoku x Hashira! Reader (for a brief time), Hashira! Sanemi Shinazugawa x Hashira! Reader

warnings: dead dove do not eat themes: brief description of pedophilia, miscarriage, child abuse, child endagerment, child marriage, child pregnancy, death, mentions of sexual s/a, mentions of ptsd, panic and anxiety attacks, miscarriage

description: How can you make noise in an empty can? How can you write with no ink? How can you live without a will? How can you have hope in a world that has relentlessly failed you over and over again? How is (Y/N) still alive after everything? It's a gift, a blessing, as most would say that she is still alive and kind. "She feels like the warm sunshine after the rain," "always smiling, always so lovely," most would describe, yet a certain Wind Hashira will say otherwise. Not because he disagrees, but because he knows — he saw — how a woman everyone says is almost invincible and gifted and warm, has her hidden storm beneath the sky.

Warning: Mentions of past s/a, child abuse, child pregnancy, miscarriage, pedophilia.

“I got pregnant when I was twelve.”

Sanemi was surprised his head was still intact to his neck at how he turned beside the girl so fast. The air surrounding the two of them became heavy with the confession. The white-haired man could only stare silently at the girl with wide eyes, frozen in place, feeling mixed emotions of disgust, anger, (not towards her, of course) and sadness.

"I got pregnant by a much older yet non the wiser man back in my village."

The two of them sat at the porch on one of the Wisteria Mansions provided by the corps for recovery after missions. There are no bruises or cuts that litter their bodies anywhere. They didn't even face any demons this day. Yet, in Sanemi's opinion, this has been one of the hardest and most painful mission he has ever encountered yet.

He wishes Masachika is here with them. He's far better than Sanemi with these heavy emotional encounters, but he's sent on another mission, leaving him to deal with this alone.

The two of them sat side by side, a three feet distance between the two of them. The girl, no older than fifteen, sat with her legs together, back straight, with her hands folded on top of her lap. She's sitting there so quiet and serene, as if she didn't drop the deepest, darkest lore of her origin seconds ago.

Sanemi felt his fingers twitch — to reach out to her and comfort her, or find the damned man who did those unspeakable things to her, he didn't know.

(Y/N) didn't look at him, her gaze focused on the sky above them. It is a wonderful night. There are no clouds that can hide the view of the stars that shine above them, the luminescent light of the full moon, it is heartbreakingly beautiful this silent, serene night. Try as she might hide it, the beautiful night sky also can not conceal the tears that pool her beautiful eyes despite the small smile on her face.

"I lost the babe when he pushed me down the stairs."

He swallowed the lump on his throat painfully, lips parting and closing again as he tried to find the words that are appropriate in this situation.

Sanemi couldn't remember what led to this moment. Maybe it was the mission earlier, maybe its been bottled up for so long that she had to share it with someone, or maybe she's starting to trust him now after a year of joining the corps. He didn't know. Sanemi didn't know many things, and he isn't certain about all the things he knows, but one thing for certain is that he's not going away any time soon.

A gentle breeze caused (Y/N) to close her eyes, welcoming the gentle wind to cress her face in a sense of comfort, and brushes her hair away from her face and wrap her in a cold hug.

For the millionth time that day, Sanemi's heart broke at the familiarity of it all. A long time ago, this exact same scenario happened to a sweet, kind, and beautiful woman who didn't deserve any of it. They had done nothing in their lives to deserve any of this. Nobody deserves the lives they've lived.

(Y/N) felt his presence come closer with caution, as if she's a gazelle that would scatter away if he moved too suddenly. Her eyes are still closed as her smile grows a little. She didn't mind his presence. If anything, she felt safe around him the moment her corps fitting disaster. She knew he wouldn't do anything that would cause her discomfort.

So it came as a pleasant surprise when she felt a caloused yet comforting hand rest on top of hers. (Y/N) opened her eyes and turns her head slowly to face the white-haired man beside her.

Sanemi's lips parted when her eyes met his, it was filled with so much pain and agony as much as it was beautiful. When she didn't pull away, he grips her hand a bit more tightly — not enough to inflict pain, but enough to provide that secure comfort (Y/N) could not find anywhere else other than her father figure Gyomei.

With much needed courage, Sanemi brought his other hand on top of her head, patting it gently with a rare smile, albeit pained.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

It wasn't his fault. He had no need to say sorry to what happened to her in the past. He wasn't there, and he didn't have any part to play in it. Those words had never much impact on her, used to that comment with the select few she shared her story with, but with the way he said so sincere and soft, salty tears unknowingly ran down her face.

(Y/N)'s body shakes into a full sob the moment Sanemi pulled her closer in an embrace, holding her tightly as she falls apart right in front of him.

Yes, there is no more doubt in her mind. Underneath the cold sky and with the stars and moon as witnesses, here in his arms, (Y/N) had never felt more safe and protected.

I do not own Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba) and their characters.

divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx and @inkedreverie

— ©All Rights Reserved @diana-rose-25

[cattlemons]

When The Tide Returns Lost Memories

| Wriothesley awakens in a foreign land with fragmented memories and a desperate need to return to someone he can't quite remember.

TW: Memory loss, unspecified violence, not proofread, 4k words of hurt and comfort

a.n. saw this post by @cyb-rdva about this fic idea. I just got a buzz and felt like writing it! I don't really know how permissions work on here but I hope I did it justice!

Wriothesley’s eyes find the crippling light as he squints away the last remaining darkness, pushing it to the back of his mind once more. Finally feeling himself take a breath, he hears himself grunt awake; much like a machine starting up after months of disuse. Creaking and clanking to a sitting position, he feels the cracks of his bones and the bruises of his injuries sting him.

Where am I?

Disoriented beyond belief, he let his eyes collect a view of his surroundings. The gears of his brain churned and turned but, to no avail, he’s completely lost on where he is. Panic seized him as his parched throat let out a hoarse yell– he doesn’t know who exactly he was trying to reach out to but, dear archons, let them be nice.

The door opened just as he finally found enough strength to stand. Training his eyes onto the green-headed figure by the door, his focus was sharp despite the delirium he had experienced not long ago; the tendons of his feet ready to leap like a coiled spring waiting for the undoing. 

The green-haired man placed his two palms out, ducking ever so slightly to make himself look as small and harmless as possible. Wriothesley assessed the situation with the sense of a trained warrior, looking the man up and down before releasing his tightly clenched fists, letting the white fade to a warm red. 

Wait a second!

Wriothesley pounced at the tall man and knocked him over to the ground, the thud of their fall resounding throughout the room. His knuckles which are covered with hidden bruises and healed cuts saw the light of day after a long time being hidden. Choking the man, Wriothesley sneered and gruffed, “Where’s my gauntlet, NOW! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?”

The man flailed helplessly beneath him as he clawed at his bound neck, searching for escape. Before anything else could unfold, both men were pulled apart; the lanky man by a man in Liyuean garment and Wriothesley by a purple child.

What the fuck is going on?? SHIT, WHERE IS SHE? I NEED TO FIND HER! I NEED TO TELL HER...!

Huh? Who? Tell her what?

The child made some sort of listless remark but Wriothesley was not aware of what she said. His ears rang deafeningly as his vision wavered. His consciousness was escaping him and his panic and fight whittled down and numbed itself, leaving a sense of nothing in its wake. He can’t help but mourn if this is to be his last moment of living. What kind of defeat was this? Surely, he deserved a better battle to die on. 

His mind winds down slowly, unfinished strings of thoughts urging him along from what topic to the next before gently placing him right on the edge of consciousness. Dreary and barely awake, he wonders if anyone can hear his last words and wishes. If he could, he would’ve chuckled dryly, even now on his deathbed (or rather death-floor) he is still nothing but an orphaned boy with no one to mourn for him. Dust returns to dust, he supposes.

As he feels his eyes wane to a close, the only thing on his mind is a name with a face left unplaced and undecided, oh how he loved her.

WAIT! WHO? HOLD ON!

He was out cold, now. 

—

The second time he awoke, Wriothesley was ready for a fight. Whatever foul play, or trickery used on him that first time, won’t get him twice. Raring to go, Wriothesley opened his eyes wide and ready to jump into a fighting stance, only to be stopped by a pair of cuffs chaining him to the bed.

Something! He needs to find SOMETHING?!

Controlling his uneven breaths, he forced and willed the adrenaline pumping in his veins to subside; there’s no use for it if he’s bound and alone, anyway. For now, he chose to focus on locating where he was and (more importantly) where his gauntlets were. Sure, the normal man can’t hope to survive a fight against him but something within him is anxious to be away from it. He almost feels physically ill without it. 

Damned wrist decorator causing me separation anxiety. Just like a damned dog.

At the sound of a creak, he snapped his neck towards the open door. Behind the heavy timber, stood the green-haired man he has yet to learn the name of (but rest assured if he’s come for a round two, Wriothesley is ready to choke him; this time to sleep). Fortunately for everyone in the vicinity, the man had no ill will. With the patience of a saint, the man stepped into the room, carrying with him a bruised neck and a handful of medication supplies. 

Setting his things down on a table, he watched Wriothesley with calm eyes. The same cannot be said for Wriothesley whose sharp steel irises were pointed at him. Muscles rippling in tandem, Wriothesley pulled at the cuffs that kept him in place. Truth be told, the steel keeping him bound to the bed may just snap in a few more strong pulls had the child from “yesterday” not stepped in, this time clearly brandishing a syringe swirling with translucent liquid. 

That shut him up quickly. 

Relatively calm now (and sedated), the thin man slowly inched closer to Wriothesley, pushing back his glasses from his nose while at it. With a slightly quicker heart pace, he explained in a rushed tone, “I am Baizhu, a local physician of Liyue and owner of The Bubu Pharmacy. We’re located in Liyue Harbor. We found you unconscious outside our pharmacy so we decided to take you in.”

This “Baizhu” figure looked to his side at the small purple child as if to see whether or not he’d forgotten something. The two seem to be close because without missing a beat, the child showed him a page of her book. This seemed to jog the man’s memory as he continued, “Ah, yes. Your weapons and, ahem, gauntlets are in our safekeeping. They were badly damaged so we were worried the bones hidden underneath weren’t fairing all too well, either, please don’t misunderstand.”

Taking his words in, Wriothesley felt a slight bit of guilt for almost beating the guy up. The man, however, doesn’t seem to be waiting for an apology, rather, his eyes gleamed in a sort of curiosity. Wriothesley supposes he would be the same way if the situation had been flipped and this Baizhu man showed up half-dead at the doors of Meropide.

Wait, Meropide! Shit, MEROPIDE!

“Sir, how long have I been here?! Please, answer me!”

Baizhu’s eyebrows scrunched in slight perplexity and hesitation, he wasn’t too keen on agitating the man again. 

“Well, we found you on the sixth and today’s the nineteenth, so, about two weeks. Yes,” he answered, stepping away, in case the mild sedation was, indeed, too mild a dose. 

Shit! That’s way too long for me to be away! I won’t be surprised if the place is in shambles by now. Fuck, I need to get back! I NEED TO GET BACK! IS SHE OKAY? I NEED TO APOLOGIZE!

To whom?

Fighting against the effects of the syringe, Wriothesley tensed his forearms and willed them to move. Against his better judgment, Baizhu saw this and went to undo the locks of his cuffs. He supposes, that if he’s going to break through the chains, might as well take it off him to prevent any further injury. 

“Though I am uncuffing you, sir, I suggest you take it easy in the meantime. You have a long list of blunt traumas all over you and from the looks of it, your memory isn’t too intact. I don’t know what happened to you or where you want to rush off to with your weapons but I would be an unfit physician if I allowed you to go anywhere outside my supervision for the time being. At least, let me help you remember so I can send you off with a clear mind on your shoulders.”

“Please, just calm down, when I release you, alright… there...”

Arms now freed, Wriothesley calmed down significantly; somewhere in his mind, he felt safer knowing he could beat someone to a pulp if need be. Finally feeling safe enough to be civil, he decided he’d stay long enough to get some answers and his weapon and memory back. Wriothesley knew it’d be best to stay. He can’t be so sure he’ll find a physician who knows enough of their field of study to claim they can help bring back his foggy memories. That said, he won’t be wasting any time. 

“Mr. Baizhu, please tell me what you know about my… umm… predicament. I don’t quite enjoy being puzzled this way. Also, the gauntlets, I want them back,” he said, before quickly pasting a ‘please’ behind his sentence. 

Yes, she always liked it better when I’m civil; like a proper duke. She?

Wriothesley wasn’t sure what was going on with him at the moment. Everything’s in disarray and he can’t help but want to rip the tufts of gray out of his head. Nothing is making sense to him. The memories and facts that should be concretely sealed within the wrinkles of his brain are now fluttering in front of him. Try as he may, they flit just out of his reach. He only hopes his memories come back to him quickly so he can somehow get back to wherever he needs to be to get to whoever she is to do whatever it is he needs to do.

This is truly shit.

—

Meanwhile, you were running up and down the underground prison and makeshift factory to make sure it, ironically, stayed afloat. In all honesty, all you wanted to do was cry and wail at your husband’s disappearance. Yes, disappearance. Though you’ve heard many relegate their condolences to you, you accepted none of it. You were sure he was alive somewhere out there; he just needed to come back home. 

Some may say it’s denial but acceptance simply wasn’t the answer right now. Not when the livelihood of thousands of people rely on your emotional stability to ensure proper functions of this prison they call home. Meropide is counting on you to keep yourself together so acceptance truly isn’t needed right now; not when acceptance would mean falling to your knees as you plan funeral arrangements. No, as long as hope is free, the man you call your husband is alive.

Today’s to-do list is a mile and a half long but it all needs doing so that’s exactly what you’re going to spend your time and elbow grease on. You started your day at the break of dawn when the waters were still moving in compliance with the moon’s pull. The dull thud of the waves against the steel prison walls keeps you grounded as you check off your lover’s duties one by one. Noon soon takes hold as the water calms down relatively, now giving way to the clanks of machinery. The resounding clicks and clacks of tools and shoes signify that all was still in order. Night finally came and the mile-long list has been taken care of, well mostly. Last but not least, you’ll have to surface and meet with someone very important. 

After throwing on whatever clean and acceptable outfit you find within your closet in the duke’s Meropide residence, you are off to Poisson to meet with Navia. You sure hope she’s found something useful. 

At moments like this, you’re grateful for your long-standing friendship with the ever-kind and well-connected President of The Spina di Rosula. Navia has been spearheading the search for your husband for the past few weeks. She turned the whole of Fontaine upside down last week but it yielded no results. Though Spina di Rosula is an organization built to help with Fontanian problems, you’re glad she spared no effort to search beyond the borders of Fontaine for you.

“I just don’t know where he could have gone, Navia. One minute we fought and before you know it the clock strikes midnight and it’s the second day he’s gone,” you let out as your chest starts heaving, a poor effort to hold back the sorrow and fear you felt. 

“Navia, I can’t let that be the last interaction we have, I just… I can’t live not knowing if he’s done with me or, worse, if something bad happened to him. I just want to know he’s alright and then, if he so wishes, we can part ways.”

Navia pats your back gently as your breathing grows heavier, “I don’t know the duke all that much but I know enough to say that he’s mad for you. He’d kill for you just as quickly as he’d die for you, my dear. Give him credit that he’ll return, if only to see and make amends with you, hmm?”

Your throat is raw from keeping the dam of your rising emotions from spilling. You turned to your sole companion in all this, “Are you sure, we’ll find him, Navia?”

“All the signs we’ve found so far indicate him being alive. As long as that duke of yours is on Teyvat, we’ll find him, my dear partner, I am sure of it,” she cheered softly, conviction intertwined with a strong dose of compassion. 

With that, tears soak your face as you cry softly. Your shoulders shook as rivulets of sorrow trickle past your lashes onto your cheeks. You couldn’t possibly let them out in Meropide so you let them out here. Within the confines of the four walls of Poisson, you let your walls crumble if only for a bit. 

You hope he comes back to you soon. You don’t know what you’d do without him. 

— 

“Do you recall anything at all before your waking,” Baizhu asked Wriothesley for the umpteenth time since his wake from the sedation-induced stupor. 

The two figures, Wriothesley and Baizhu, were sitting outside the pharmacy doing a routine inspection. For the past week, Wriothesley has been fairly cooperative in working with Baizhu to further his recuperation; if only to get his gauntlet back and return quicker to Meropide and to the missing woman his heart claims to love so much.

Wriothesley still has no clue as to what his sense of urgency is based on. Of course, the meropide needs him but in the event of his absence, he’s set aside some protocols and second-in-commands that can take up the mantle for a bit before his return. This is something he recalled a few days ago and it’s helped him ease up and stay put for the time being. The exercises Baizhu has given him are certainly giving promising results on jogging his memory back but, much to his dismay, none about the mystery woman. It’s eating his heart up like a worm on an apple, plaguing his heart and making him feel rotten for forgetting her. 

Who are you, damn it.

Damn, even cursing at her feels wrong. 

Alright, let him fix that-

FIX… FIX!

Just like that, the memories of the weeks prior come crashing onto him like the waves of the midnight tides. All that he’s been through, getting knocked out, the fight, everything filters through his mind like an hourglass finally filling up. Despite all of those moments being mostly shit, he’s overjoyed of remembering what he thought he lost, of remembering you.

By Archons, it’s you!

“Baizhu! That’s it! I need to see her, I need to see my girl! Oh, for the life of me, Baizhu, I need to apologize to MY GIRL,” Wriothesley yelled, joyous. 

He does not recall ever being so excited to apologize but he’d be damned if anything wipes the smile off of his face. How can he not? Imagine falling in love all over again with the woman that’s captured your very being. Imagine seeing her in the fresh light of a stranger only wishing to be within her gravity then realizing you were the moon pulling her tides of love all along. Imagine, oh archons, that can fucking wait. 

He’s leaving now!

Baizhu smiles at the breakthrough, both of his patient’s memory and of a new memory recovery technique. Calling for Qiqi, Baizhu asks her to get the man’s big boy hands because, yes, we’re finally letting him go home. No, without the sedation. 

—

On the ferry ride back, the duke sat painfully still as he stared at the gauntlets that he now wore. The gauntlets that symbolizes his power in Meropide, the ones you've basically created with him now that he remembers your significance in his life. No wonder he can't bear to part with it.

Suddenly, the vast blue separating Liyue and Fontaine seems not enough time now that his thoughts finally catch up to him.

Of course, he was beyond ecstatic to see the love of his life again but thinking back to how he left things off… he shudders at the thought. He’s downright shit for leaving this mess for you to shoulder on your own, not to mention, the fight that went down before he disappeared. 

If the roles were reversed, he doesn't know if he’ll ever function properly again. He left you after saying some nasty things and did not return. Not even after two weeks, in fact, it took him three. He wonders if you’re mad at him still or if you’ve fully given up on him. He wonders if you think he left you for good on his own accord. He hopes your heart hasn’t been damaged beyond repair. He knows he’ll do a lot worse to himself if it is. 

He just hopes you haven’t completely locked him out of your heart forever because if you haven’t fully closed the doors on him, if he even sees a sliver of forgiveness in your eyes, he’ll lay his everything down in hopes of winning you back.

Wait for me, please, my love.

—

The ocean’s gentle rhythm is the only lullaby strong enough to lure your restless heart and mind to sleep. You can’t imagine being able to rest if you were anywhere else. At least not after the stagnation of your search for your husband. It would’ve been one thing if it were slow progress but there’s nothing else to be found now. Last you heard, there were sightings of a seemingly Fontanian man in Liyue but before anyone could get ahold of him, he disappeared again. You suppose it makes full sense that a man with his extensive knowledge of the underground world and wide connections would slip away easily, after all this is well within his expertise. That’s what you chose to believe, anyway.

The murmurs of the sea continue drumming constant beats as your eyes flutter shut. You hope that this time they bring you to a distant land where all is well; where your husband is still beside you and he still looks at you like you hung the stars just for him. 

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, heavy clunking and ruckus were heard outside by the registrar of the Meropide. Soon, a crowd began to form as doors were opened and gates were unlocked, in came the man of the hour. 

The duke is back.

—

Doors were flung open as the duke marched in, passing by the stunned prisoners of the Meropide. There were rumors abuzz that the duke had fled, of course, his sentence was served to fulfillment so, technically, he did not flee. The spicy part of this scandal was that his wife was left stranded and alone to deal with the mess he’s left. Truth be told, this wasn’t so far from the truth in Wriothesley’s heart. 

Opening the massive steel doors to his residence, Wriothesley whispered prayers. With every step he climbed, he murmured a small prayer and promise of devotion to whichever Celestia deity would grant him your patience and forgiveness. Perhaps, however, he should’ve been whispering his promises of devotion to you instead. 

Like seeing a mirage in a barren desert of swirling guilt and longing, you lay there asleep but so very beautiful. The rise and fall of your chest fills him with ease as the scent of your perfume grows stronger with each step he takes toward you. His eyes begin to water as his feet grow heavy, it seems his heart grew to immense proportions just at seeing you within touching distance. 

He reaches your side and kneels to be at level with your sleeping face. He studies you, slowly memorizing all the things he wishes to never forget. He engraves into his mind, the dips of your cupid’s bow and the flick at the end of your nose. He etches into the crevices of his brain the way your eyelashes flutter just so slightly at whatever it is you sense. Finally, he allows himself to fully sink into your hypnotic gaze as your eyelids lift ever so slightly to reveal his favorite colors. He wishes to have those exact shades enshroud him forever.

The moment you open your eyes, you can’t help but smile, though you remain unmoving. 

How lovely! They did bring you good dreams. 

“My… after so long of not seeing you, I must’ve forgotten how many scars you have,” you giggled lightly as your eyes counted his scars one by one, hoping to update your foggy memory.

You smile as you continue, “two new ones over your left eyebrow and one down your neck. Even in my dreams, you’re still as rugged as ever. I guess it’s my fault for falling in love with a man so magnetized by fights. I love you that way, though. Don’t change.”

Wriothesley could only sit in pious silence as he followed your gaze, he never wanted to part from it.

“My love, why don’t you take me to where you are? I never want to wake up if this is what sleeping is like. I don’t mind remembering new scars that never happened if only to stay with you like this,” you whispered lowly as your hands went out to reach for his cheeks. 

It’s impulsive and you knew the moment his form revealed its corporeal quality, he’d fade away from even your dreams and you’d be left alone again but you just… you just had to. He compels you in a way that no one ever has and ever could. Even if only in this second, you wish to believe he’s just within reach. 

Just like you remember him to be.

Wriothesley closed his eyes as he awaited your warmth. He can’t possibly move an inch or say a word when the atmosphere is filled and doused with your affection and love. He just can’t. If anything, he leans in almost antsy with anticipation. 

But your touch never came. 

Wriothesley opens his eyes to see tears falling down your face and your hands just a hair's breadth away from his cheeks. The droplets stained the carpet beneath him along with his heart.

Breaking piece by piece, his heart shatters as more tears fall from the corner of your eyes; even more when you begin to speak.

“Wriothesley, if I don’t touch you, will you stay? Even as a memory, will you continue to be mine? Or will my mind take that away from me too?”

His heart sank as he watched his love break before him. Not standing for this anymore, he pulled your face closer to his and sealed your lips onto his, claiming this moment as real. 

You cried into the kiss letting every single feeling and emotion you’ve pent up run free. Wriothesley pulled you into him and held you as close as he physically could. He wants to absorb every piece of you into his heart to make sure he never has to part from you ever again. He’s selfish and he keeps ahold of you even after your lips part from his. 

He kisses every inch of your skin to make sure you know he’s here, to make sure he knows you’re here.

Pure, unadulterated love encapsulates his mind as he holds you close, afraid he might lose you again if he lets go. 

As the minutes faded into hours, Wriothesley murmured into your ears the undying poetry of his love for you, unyielding and true. Even if you don’t believe him right now, that’s alright. He’ll keep reminding you of it.

Every second of every minute.

Every minute of every hour.

And every hour of every damned day.

All until you remember it. 

a.n. This is a long one and I just kinda word vomit onto my laptop for a few hours and then bam it's right there. Please be gentle, I don't think I was all that awake for this banger!

Hope it's a good read!

[1d1195]

Traditional VIII

Well this is the fastest I've ever written. Sorry to leave you hanging on part 7 like that. You can read Traditional here.

I actually wanted this part to be longer but I think I stopped it at a good spot to continue with what I want in the next part but the next part will be a hot minute before it’s posted also part 9 will pick up right where this leaves off.

Warnings: angst (see I remembered the word this time), death mentioned, mourning, (etc.)

“Can I help you?”

Her heart officially shattered. Her head snapped up to the beautiful woman’s voice and she gasped. It felt like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and was squeezing all life out of her. “Oh my God,” how could Niall suggest this? Did he know? Was Harry really that mad at her he would have Niall convince her to come over and see another woman and...? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered breathlessly.

She stopped by the bathroom to take stock of what she looked like as soon as she got to the floor. She put the bag at her feet and stood in front of the sink counter and gripped the edge. The pain in her arm from her slip ached from the bruise forming on her forearm and rippled up the length of her arm as she held onto the counter. Taking a deep breath, she finally looked in the mirror.

Ill. She looked ill. From a green complexion to her red eyes. Her nose was cold and reddening by the second making her look like she had a cold. Bloodshot eyes and overall, just the pallor of a ghost. Her head ached and it was a dumb idea to come back to work. Surely, she would mess up more things. But there wasn’t much else she could do and nowhere else she could really go.

Slowly she closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest in defeat. Then tilted her neck all the way back to the ceiling. “Goddamn it,” she hissed to herself. Grabbing her bag, she walked swiftly back to her office. Maybe she would just sit there and stare at her computer screen until Harry finally fired her.

Niall covered the microphone with his hand. “Darling?” He asked curiously as the door to her office opened. “I’ll call y’back,” he dropped his phone back to the receiver and he hurried to her little space. “I thought—”

“I have no where to go,” she said curtly. Niall didn’t deserve her abrupt tone, but it was the only one she could give. This day was so awful, and she had nowhere to go except the one place she would most assuredly run into at least half of her problems. And that was her best option.

Without a debit card, she had no way to get to the hospital. Her apartment belonged to Harry and right now she didn’t want to be anywhere that was associated with him and the part of her life with him outside company walls. Her laptop was broken and even if she could use it her brain wouldn’t function.

“What are you talking—your apartment?” He reminded her with a question in his voice.

“You mean Harry’s apartment?”

“Love, all things considered, he wouldn’t kick you out or something... he wouldn’t do that to you. Not even on his worst day.”

She shook her head. That’s not what she meant but it was a new fear that twisted her stomach in knots on top of everything else. The tears flooded back into her vision. “I don’t want to talk about any of this Niall. I just want to work so I don’t have to think. If I have even a second to think about anything but work, I’m going to explode, and I can’t do that in front of you—”

“Sure, you can,” he said encouragingly. “Come on,” he said and tugged her out of her seat and into his office. She was too weak to do anything but follow obligingly. He gently guided her to the sofa he had in the room and hurried to his desk. He scribbled something, practically ran back to the door, and smacked the paper on the front before shutting it, blocking out the rest of the floor.

“What’s that?” She asked, curiosity getting the best of her as she looked at her hands in her lap.

“Says ‘Do not disturb. Meeting in progress.’”

“You’re going to get in trouble because of me,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I know the boss pretty well.”

“That’s especially why.”

“He left for the day.”

She blinked. “What?” She asked softly. Other than being sick, Harry didn’t leave early. Ever. Most often he stayed late. The rest he left on time and not a moment sooner.

“He wasn’t feeling himself,” Niall said with a shrug. “Think you know why,” he was so casual about it. Her heart fluttered with worry despite how angry he was with her. How was she supposed to feel? She was in love with him. It didn’t matter. “Go on, then. Please tell me. I’ve been dying to help you as much as you help me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t Niall. You’re my boss—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, love. You’re also the love of my best friend’s life. Would you just talk to me already?” She looked at him as if she was really seeing him for the first time. She couldn’t believe he said that out loud. Now she understood why he put the note up. He wasn’t doing this as her boss. This was Harry’s best friend. If she could dream or hope about a future with Harry, he would be one of her best friends, too. “Pretend I’m not your boss right now.”

She apparently didn’t need much more encouragement for her already bubbling emotions to flow over. Poor Niall took it all in stride. Every word that exploded out of her, all the tears, everything. It wasn’t like when she talked to Harry, and it definitely wasn’t like when she talked to Louis. She told him all about the last twenty-four hours from Hell. She listed every inconvenience, every heartbreak. The debit card, the mean coworker, her dad, how her coffee tasted bad and got everywhere, her laptop was broken, and Louis and Eleanor were her only friends, and she couldn’t even go see them. “And of course, Harry hates me, so I didn’t get to see him last night,” she finished blubbering. She didn’t give lots of details on most anything, just the coworker since that was one of the only ones that she could see him dealing with. Not that she wanted him to.

“To be fair, I think Harry hates me, right now,” he smirked sadly.

“That’s almost worse,” she sniffled.

Niall rolled his eyes as he rubbed her back soothingly with the palm of his hand and watched her dab her eyes with the tissues he got from his desk. “He hates me because he thinks I’m stealing you away because you didn’t tell him any of that. And he’s mad that you didn’t want to tell him. He thought your relationship was evolving and you took like ten steps back without a word. Christ darling, I’m mad you for not saying anything about the harassment. That is not okay. You’re not plain, you’re lovely. She’s just jealous.”

She found it interesting that he agreed with Louis’s assessment. “That’s what Louis said, even before she talked to me.”

Niall shook his head. “She was extremely cruel for no reason, I’m so sorry, love. You did not deserve that.”

She shrugged awkwardly, defeated still. Even getting all of that off her chest. “I am plain. It’s why I was so worried about my... situation with Harry...I don’t...” she took a deep breath. “You’re not my boss right now?” She repeated his statement as a question for reassurance. He shook his head.

“Just a really good friend,” he promised. “I won’t tell Harry,” he added for good measure.

“I don’t even think he’ll want to sleep with me because I’m so ordinary and...” Despite his talk with Niall and that fact they were both aware of her relationship with Harry, she still didn’t like bringing it up. Plus, the untraditional details were lost on her, and she didn’t want to have to explain it to Niall awkwardly.

“Love,” Niall smirked. “Harry is...infatuated with you,” he promised.  “You don’t have to worry about any of that kind of thing. He would—look I don’t want to say it because it sounds like locker room talk and I don’t want you to think he and I talk about you like that. We don’t, I promise—but that’s not something you need to worry about. I’ve never seen him like this about anyone he’s ever been involved with romantically one way or another.”

It made her heart hope, and she hated it. She was prepared for defeat. Harry wouldn’t be in love with her anymore. They wouldn’t get dinner on Mondays or watch movies on Thursdays. There would be no more little sleepovers where he would be sick and accidentally tell her he loved her and forget by morning. She shook her head. “Niall, I...” She swallowed.

“Please tell me you’re in love with him, I’ve been dying for you to say it almost as much as he has.”

The smallest pause. Niall wasn’t her boss. “Of course, I’m in love with him. How can you not be?” She asked, face blushing, as she stared at her hands.

Niall sighed. “You need to tell him what you told me,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, it’s not his problem. I’m a big girl and...I have to handle it.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he promised her. “I don’t know everything, but I see the way you work, and I know bits and pieces of what Harry is willing to tell me. I know you want to fix every problem that crosses your path for anyone that has one. If you walked into your office and spoke to the you that sits at your computer, how would you help?” He asked. “Would you tell yourself to keep it all bottled up or take a hike and deal with it yourself? Or would you, the person who helps everyone with anything they may need, help you?”

She took a deep breath. The first bit of clarity over the last twelve hours was finally reaching her ears from Niall. “I would help.”

“Then help yourself, darling. Please. Tell Harry.”

She closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. “I think I have to go to the hospital first,” she said to Niall. “But I don’t have a debit card or a ride.”

“Call Harry’s driver. He won’t care. Or I’ll take you, I don’t mind at all,” Niall reached into his wallet and pulled out one of his plastic cards. “I think this has a 25,000-spending limit,” he smirked. “I’d be impressed if you used all of it in one weekend,” he smiled. “Bring it back Monday,” he shrugged. “Definitely use it to get a new laptop when you have time.”

Sucking her lip into her mouth she awkwardly took the card “Please don’t tell Harry about...her...”

He frowned. “Darling,” his tone was so disapproving. It sounded like that was going to be Niall’s first call. Maybe second if he called the bitchy woman down to his office to fire her after the sweet girl left.

“He’ll fire her.”

“As he should! She harassed you!”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Please, Niall,” she whispered.

He sighed bitterly. If even one thing that happened to her over the last day didn’t happen, he wouldn’t have listened. But she had been through enough and he didn’t want to be the cause of any more of her anxiety. Besides, once he was officially forgiven by Harry, he would ask for front row seats to her exit interview. “Okay, darling. I won’t. Go to the hospital. Then you have to go to Harry’s.”

*

Harry’s driver was kind throughout the ride and didn’t ask her a single question about why she needed to go to a hospital. In fact, other than asking if she wanted to listen to a certain type of music, he didn’t ask any questions. “Won’t Harry notice?” She eventually asked.

“No,” he shrugged one shoulder as he passed towards the streets that used to be home. She lived an hour away now, but it felt like an entirely foreign country right now. “Probably not. If he needed me, I would probably send another one of the drivers from the company,” he said simply.

The remainder of the drive was silent. Her heart beating erratically with every closer turn to the town she left. “Do you need help?” He asked when they arrived at the hospital. She shook her head steeling herself for the horribleness she was about to endure in so many emotional forms.

“No... thank you,” she said gratefully. “And... if you have to leave... I understand. But could you please...don’t tell Harry.”

“Of course, Miss,” he smiled encouragingly. Taking her work bag with her, she stepped out of the car and headed into the hospital.

*

It was a little over an hour later that she left the hospital with one less parent in existence. Although, she hadn’t had two parents since before her brother died, she felt saddened knowing that it would never be amended. And for her mom, it would never be the same. She would always be alone, now.

Naturally, it didn’t seem to bother her mother all that much. “I’ll never forgive you,” her mom said with tears in her eyes. “You can leave now.”

When it came to her parents, there wasn’t much she could do but listen. Part of her wanted to appease them and hope that eventually they would love her again. So of course, after she said goodbye there was nothing left for her to do except listen to her mother’s request.

Her loss didn’t feel as sad as it should have. Probably because when her brother passed, she didn’t just lose her brother. She lost her best friend and her parents all in one swoop. Mourning her brother at age sixteen when her friends were buying prom dresses and going on college tours in hopes of meeting college boys was a tragedy that Shakespeare wouldn’t write.

There was nothing like mourning the death of people who were still alive and lived with you every day.

When she exited the hospital room, she called the driver once more who told her to wait five minutes and he would pull around so she wouldn’t have to wait in the cold. She stood outside anyway, for the full five minutes letting the cold wash over her. She was already numb. Everything that had happened in such a short amount of time was numbing her. The cold didn’t even hurt because she was already in so much pain.

All she wanted was to see Harry. Her chest ached at the thought of being held by him. It would cure her broken heart, she was certain.

She sniffled and a few stray tears spilt over her lash line. Without her realizing, she got more teary as she waited, only noticing when his driver reappeared. “Miss,” the driver said hurriedly. He was rushing over to her on the sidewalk reaching for her bag and offered her a tissue from his pocket. He placed a hand on her lower back to guide her up the sidewalk to the car. “Is everything alright? Are you—”

She shook her head, tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She opened the door herself as he looked on with worry. “I’m fine,” she whispered but her voice broke on the word fine. “Can you take me to Harry’s?”

*

The closer she got to his house, the more anxious and sadder she got. As he parked in the driveway, she strongly considered telling him to take her back to the apartment. However, she all but promised Niall she would come here. Maybe these tears would make him listen at least for a moment. Wringing her hands together, she sat silently, awkwardly in her seat before the driver even made a move after several minutes. With a deep breath, she swallowed and pushed the door out of the way. “Can you wait five more minutes in case he really hates me, and I need to leave?” She asked.

The driver chuckled dryly. “He doesn’t hate you, but I’ll wait,” he said.

She made her way across the path and up the steps to his front door. She knocked and was prepared to stare at her feet the whole time she waited for Harry to open the door. Maybe she even planned to stare at her feet if he was willing to talk to her. She was going to beg or cry (probably both) just for five minutes to explain everything. Five minutes to try and fix her broken heart.

“Can I help you?”

Her heart officially shattered. Her head snapped up to the beautiful woman’s voice and she gasped. It felt like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and was squeezing all life out of her. “Oh my God,” how could Niall suggest this? Did he know? Was Harry really that mad at her he would have Niall convince her to come over and see another woman and...? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered breathlessly. It felt like she was swallowing her tongue. She backed away, nearly losing her balance as she did. She wanted to be embarrassed about almost losing her balance but even standing upright she felt like she was swaying and the only thing she felt was betrayal and she had no right to feel that way.

“Whoa, hey,” the girl said reaching for her before she fell back off the steps. She regained her balance and felt like her stomach was going to heave up anything she had eaten—which wasn’t the time to remember but she realized she only had a bagel and a coffee this morning almost twelve hours ago.

Of course, Harry would find someone else. He was...him. He had money and he could have any girl he wanted. Someone beautiful. Someone who didn’t have all the baggage that she did. Someone who didn’t hide from him and someone who would do what a companion like her was supposed to do.

“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” She asked tilting her head curiously, trying to figure out who she was. Like this was normal for her to be answering the door and for her to be standing there. “Are you alright?” She asked gently.

She wished she wasn’t nice. It was making it harder for her to be mad. Seeing this kind woman opening the door to the house of the man she was in love with would have been so much easier if she could have been mad. But she was just heartbreakingly sad. “N-no...I...I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she repeated hurrying down the few steps and nearly missed the last one tripping into the yard. So much so, she lost one of her shoes. Worse yet in her fit of non-embarrassment, just total shock, she left it there. “Oh my God,” she whimpered to herself. She was now truly worried she would throw up. She turned quickly and practically ran back for the driveway.

“Kitten?!” Harry shouted from somewhere in the house.

“Hey, wait!” The woman called suddenly.

“Fuck,” she heard Harry hiss as she hurried back to the car, tears falling quickly down her cheeks as she awkwardly limped without her shoe the path to the driveway. With her head start she thought she really might make it in the car and drive away before Harry got to her. But he had much longer legs...and he wasn’t bogged down by missing a shoe. “Goddammit! Love, stop!” He shouted running across the yard. She pulled the door handle quickly trying to get away from this house, but the door smacked shut at the same time. Harry’s hand pressed to the window while the other grabbed her arm right where it bruised. She inhaled sharply in pain and winced. Harry dropped her arm like a hot potato, he released a breath out of frustration. “Kitten, stop,” he was out of breath from his short run—but it wasn’t the run making him breathless but the thought of losing her at this moment. She wanted to look up at him and see those perfect green eyes, but she was so scared. “Look at me, please,” he begged. But her eyes stayed glued to the driveway. Harry was only in socks, and she thought that was cute. His feet in socks. It wasn’t the time, but her brain was operating on no sleep and way too much trauma for one day.

Her face crumpled in pain and she shook her head. She couldn’t look at him, if she looked all the pain would boil over and she would start crying and never stop. Why didn’t Harry deserve some woman that would be there for him the way she couldn’t be? Why wouldn’t he want someone beautiful and not plain? Someone who wasn’t so young that she was still in the internship phase. Someone who didn’t need his money or a job. Someone who was brilliant enough to help him with whatever his company and he himself needed.

“Hey,” the woman’s voice suddenly sounded beside her. It was gentle and out of instinct she turned to the direction of the woman that was currently amplifying just how terrible her day could get just by existing. It wasn’t her fault either. She really thought the girl was beautiful and lovely. She was kind to not sneer at her as a sniveling mess. She sniffled looking at her curiously. The beautiful girl handed Harry her missing shoe then stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “M’Gemma,” she said softly, apologetically in tone as she smiled at her with a terrible look of pity directed toward her.

Even though one of the only things she prided herself on was being intelligent this had to be the dumbest thing she had ever done in her whole life. She was speechless. Couldn’t even say her own name as she held her hand out awkwardly and (fortunately for her) instinctively for Harry’s sister to shake.

At the same time, Harry crouched to the ground and placed her shoe back on her foot holding her ankle so gently, like she might break. “I was just going, truly,” Gemma smiled at her sympathetically. “I’ve heard loads about you. I’ll meet you again sometime, yeah?” She asked quietly. Harry was silent throughout the interaction. His breathing erratic as he was hoping she wouldn’t leave. “Bye Harry,” she kissed him on the cheek and Gemma went to the other side of the car and gave the driver a wave before sliding into the back seat. The car drove away leaving her alone with Harry.

“Kitten,” he whispered softly.

“I’ve had a terrible couple of days,” she sniffled tears clouding her vision again. The fear of Harry finding someone else nearly ruined her completely. She was lucky that wasn’t the case. But she still had to have this talk that she promised Niall.

“I know y’have love, I just...Niall texted me...and Louis is worried...and... my love,” his voice was so gentle. It pulled at every string in her heart.

She started to say the speech she had planned in her head when she arrived. Before she saw Gemma. “I know you hate me, but I have nowhere else to go,” she whimpered, and it was all too much, and she finally let her knees give out as she melted to the ground. She covered her face and cried.

“No. Baby, I don’t hate you. Not at all. M’so sorry about everything,” he promised crouching beside her. “Let’s go inside...s’too cold t’have y’out here,” he lifted around her waist to help her stand. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her because whatever demons she was fighting right now had made her weak. But she seemed overwhelmed already and he didn’t want to add to that any more than he already had by not realizing sooner that Gemma was talking to her without her knowing who Gemma was. So, once she was standing again, he held her hand and pulled her back to the house.

*

Gemma had been extremely helpful in working through Harry’s emotions with him. “You really think Niall of all people would do that to you?” She rolled her eyes.

Harry felt like her little brother at that moment. He didn’t too often anymore because he was always busy with his company, and he was always busy doing things that he never really got a chance to just be the younger sibling and have Gemma take care of him like she used to when they were young. “I think I love her, Gem.”

“Ya think?” She rolled her eyes. Harry sighed. The pair of them were sitting on his sofa and sipping tea. They ordered out for dinner and were now chatting so Harry would calm down. Harry never left work early, but he was so distraught and angry that something had to be done. Gemma came right over, and he told her everything about the girl of his dreams. Unbeknownst to Harry, Gemma was thrilled that Harry cared so deeply about someone in this capacity. Like Niall, she noticed it was so different than anyone he ever involved himself with up to this point in time. She couldn’t wait to tell their mum.

After venting for almost two hours and working through what he needed to do next, Gemma chatted about herself and caught him up on her life. In comparison, it wasn’t much. Work was good and her dating life was good. There wasn’t much to report.

Her phone vibrated. Hey Gem. It was Niall. I know he’s pissed at me, but can you tell him to look at his phone? It’s an emergency.

Frowning, she responded to Niall while she called out to Harry. “Harry, look at your phone. Niall said there’s an emergency.” He was putting the mugs in the sink when Gemma gave him the directions. As he put the phone in his hand, his stomach dropped. He hadn’t looked at it in hours.

He had a message from Niall and a message from an unknown number claiming to be Louis. His chest felt tight. The only thought he managed was that something was wrong with her; and that was the worst kind of thought.

Niall’s said: Harry...you have to talk to her. It’s bad.

Then a second message: Really bad.

He frowned feeling worry for the sweet girl. He almost called her instead of reading Louis’ message, but there was a knock at the door, changing his plan as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. He tapped on the message from Louis. “I’ll answer it on my way out, have a good weekend, Harry!” Gemma called cheerfully. He didn’t even respond because he was busy reading.

Louis’ message was a long one: Hey Harry, it’s Louis. I stole your phone number from her back in August without her knowing. She would kill me for messaging you, but we’re on a plane and... well... she said she was feeling poor and headed to your house. But El and I just figured out WHY she’s poorly. She’s ignoring her phone, or something... Can you please tell her to call me? She probably won’t even tell you, so she won’t be a bother, and I can’t tell you through a text message... I’m sure she doesn’t want to interrupt our weekend either, but... please have her call me back. Or you can when you have her in a stable place... Thank you for taking care of her... I don’t think I’ve ever said that before to you... I don’t trust her with very many people. So, thank you for taking care of my best friend.

It took him a moment to pull himself from the message and that the other voice outside was the sweet girl speaking to Gemma at the door.

“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” Gemma asked gently.

“N-no...I... I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, and Harry shook his head trying to reach the fact that she was there.

“Kitten?!” He shouted. By the time he raced to the door, she was nearing the car. He wondered when the driver got there briefly, but he was nearly sprinting, almost pushing Gemma to the ground, to make sure he got to the car before she did. As she pulled the door handle open sniffling as she desperately tried to leave, he smacked the door shut immediately. He would not let her leave.

Something was wrong with her arm because when he reached for it, she winced in pain and Harry thought he would murder someone if they hurt her. The messages from Niall and Louis scrolling through his mind. “Kitten, stop,” he whispered as she tried to reach for the car again. “Look at me please,” he begged. It had only been a day, but he was a lovesick man. He missed her face and he wanted to see the beautiful eyes he loved so much, the little windows to her soul. Even if he just saw them for a second. But she kept her eyes to the ground. Fortunately, at that moment, Gemma introduced herself.

That’s when Harry put it together that she thought Gemma was some other woman. He didn’t even find it funny, although he wished he could have. He felt so terrible she thought so little of how much she meant to Harry that he would find someone else in less than twenty-four hours.

Now, they were inside. “Where do y’want to sit?” He asked. “The sofa or the bed?”

“I don’t—”

“Love. Please, where will you be most comfortable?” He whispered gently.

“The sofa,” she answered.

He softly nudged her to the living area, taking her coat off before she sat and then he crouched to take her shoes off. Lightly, he pushed the sleeve of her blouse up because he didn’t forget, and he saw the nasty bruise on her arm that made his heart ache with anger. “What happened?” His voice was short. He thought of the messages both Niall and Louis sent him. “Louis texted me. Said you’re ignoring his calls.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw my phone.” He frowned. He was glad she was here. If he tried to call her and she didn’t answer, he would have gone mad with worry.  She sniffled. “Harry,” she croaked.

“M’here, kitten,” he promised, and he pushed himself to kneel between her legs and he placed his hands on either side of her face. It felt like fire to touch her like this. He craved it so badly. Not having it at movie night and not seeing her until five minutes ago...and knowing she was hurt? His heart was broken. “Tell me, please,” he begged. “I’ll kill someone if I have to.”

She sighed. “You have to listen to everything before you say something or I won’t be able to finish it all,” she whispered.

“Sure love,” he nodded obediently.

“And you can’t kill or fire anyone.” He didn’t respond because he wasn’t sure he could make that promise to her. Especially if someone caused that bruise. He pressed his lips together, knelt between her legs and held her face to keep her gaze. “It’s not going to make sense, so much went wrong so fast,” she told him.

“I can keep up,” he promised. There was a moment of pause as she collected all her thoughts trying to figure out how to begin.

She began her story. “Someone stole my debit card, and I don’t... As a rule, I don’t use my credit card... at least not right now. I have too many bills and worries to be using it. I can’t wrack up any more debt... So, I basically have no access to my account or money for a week,” Harry took a hand from her face to reach into his pocket for his wallet. That was an easy fix, and he was sad it started off so easy because that meant it was going to get much worse.

She shook her head. “Niall already gave me his, because I needed it to get to the hospital,” she said, stilling his hand from opening his wallet. She gave his hand a squeeze at the sound of Niall’s name. But he didn’t feel jealous. He did in the moment seeing his best friend holding the object of all his affections so comfortingly in his arms. He didn’t know what was wrong and he was irrationally angry that Niall wouldn’t say—even when he didn’t know at the time either. He wanted to be the one comforting her. That was all.

“Hospital?” He questioned his eyes falling back to her arm.

“I’m jumping ahead. It wasn’t for me.”

He frowned. Putting the wallet on the coffee table he would thank Niall later for offering his help while Harry was being an idiot. “Go on,” he said, and he moved to sit beside her. He stretched his legs out on the chaise section and pulled her over his body, so her legs laid over his lap. This way he could see into her eyes and still touch her. He kept one of his hands wrapped up in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I was going to try and figure out how to transfer some of my money on my laptop to a temporary gift card or something… and maybe work on my internship reflection for school but... my laptop wouldn’t turn on,” she mumbled. “And then at the same time it occurred to me I can’t even buy a laptop because I don’t have a debit card.”

“We can go buy you a new one tomorrow,” he promised.

“S’not the point,” she mumbled. “You’re not supposed to interrupt,” she reminded him.

He squeezed her hand. “M’sorry.”

“The woman from the meeting who thinks I’m stupid because I’m an intern,” she whispered the description. “Do you know who I’m talking about?” Harry nodded, curious as to how someone he only saw at meetings had anything to do with this story. Harry almost forgot about her. She was right. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, he hadn’t even had a chance to debrief with her the wonderful job she did in person and to tell her not to worry about the woman from the meeting.

“You’re not stup—”

She continued without letting Harry compliment her. “She told me that you wouldn’t sleep with me.”

Harry blinked rapidly a few times, shook his head trying to clear it. Surely, he missed something to get to this section of the story. “What? I’m sorry...what do you—”

She looked at their hands held together. “She came to my office, unprompted, while I was sad about my laptop, and she just said I was stupid and plain, and you wouldn’t sleep with me because I wasn’t your type. I’m not special or smart and just because I had one good idea and I work well with Niall didn’t mean you would want me... an intern.”

He had no idea the condition to hear her story was not firing an employee was for the benefit of some cruel woman who was just so wrong. He felt speechless because everything in those two sentences was wrong. She wasn’t plain, she was so goddamn beautiful she haunted his every thought. Add in the fact she was so brilliant and kind. Harry couldn’t get enough of her, and the idea of sleeping with her...

Again, he if it meant he could have her there in his life forever, he wouldn’t care about being intimate. But otherwise, he would kill to be so close to her. “Kitten,” he whispered.He was so mad. The rage in his chest was consuming. She would be fired. For one reason or another. Harry didn’t care what he had to do. He wouldn’t let anyone speak that way to another employee. But especially not the angel seated beside him.

“It gets worse,” she mumbled.

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. He didn’t know how that could be possible, but he supposed he would find out. “Please continue, then.”

“She knocked my coffee all over my desk,” she said. “And it got all over my skirt, my laptop, the floor, my desktop, and then...I went to clean it and I slipped and that’s how I got this bruise,” she gestured to her arm. Instinctively, Harry reached out and brushed his fingers over it. Not only did he want to fire her, but he also wanted to kill her. The poor girl knew exactly what Harry would do under the right circumstances and that was why she made restrictions on hearing the story as such. She was good, Harry would give her that.

“That’s when you came in,” she mumbled. “I was so sad and heartbroken I couldn’t speak to even tell you what was wrong, and I knew how sad and hurt you were that Niall was comforting me... but Harry, I would never do that to you, ever. Especially with your best friend. Regardless of this... relationship we have... I would never... it’s a—”

“I had no right to be that mad,” Harry mumbled quietly. He had long since forgiven her. She didn’t even need forgiveness because she didn’t do anything wrong.

“And then you cancelled movie night,” she whispered brokenly. Somehow this sounded like it hurt her worse than the bruise or that stupid woman’s comments. Harry’s frown deepened and he rubbed his hand on the back of his head awkwardly.

“I was so sad,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It gets worse,” she repeated. He was hoping she was done. The idea it could get worse...

Harry wanted to take her heart out so he could sew all the holes that she was opening and then give it back to her. And Harry couldn’t even sew but whatever he did had to be better than whatever wounds laid in her heart. “I was a total zombie today at work. Niall was avoiding me per you, I think. He told me to go home after lunch so I could... I don’t know I think he just wanted me away from him.” Harry frowned. That was what Niall wanted. It was all Harry’s doing because he yelled at Niall and accused him of things he shouldn’t have as his best friend. “So I was walking home—”

“Walking?! It was freezing out, kitten.”

“Can you... this is the worst part...” He was silent. But in his head, he was arranging for a car to follow her for the rest of her life and would be training a driver to somehow coerce her into the car if she refused in sub-arctic temperatures. “My mom called,” she said. Harry’s heart stopped. “I went to the hospital.” His eyebrows quirked up and he pressed his lips together. After another brief moment of utter silence, “my dad died,” she whispered.

“Kitten,” he cooed. “Baby, m’so sorry.”

This had to be one of the worst days in recorded human history. No wonder Louis’ message was so long. He was probably freaking out. “I went to the hospital...my mom...she won’t forgive me and...” she took a deep breath. “I had nowhere else to go and I just wanted you and I don’t even know if that’s fair after all I’ve put you through over the last day. So, I came here. I’m sorry for wanting you, I don’t want to—”

“Kitten,” he reached for her face and pressed his thumb over her lips so she would stop speaking and stop breaking his heart. She was here. That meant the story was over. Thank God. “I want you here. Always,” he promised. “I want you.” The relief on her face was somehow one of the most heartbreaking expressions she wore throughout the duration of her story. Harry wanted to cry at the thought. He pulled her toward him, face pressed to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. One hand snaked up her back to hold the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, and he kissed the space of her forehead just by her hairline before closing his eyes completely content having her there.

There were so many things that needed to be addressed. She needed to call Louis. Harry wanted to call Niall...he wanted to call that terrible woman and fire her over the phone but that would have to wait until Monday. Harry would see to it that something about the funeral be figured out. Maybe he would send one of his lawyers to deal with her mum. Her bank account, her laptop, even the driver he was seriously going to have follow her... all of it needed to be taken care of for Harry to feel like he was helping her and making her horrible thirty-some odd hours end.

But for the next five minutes he was going to hold her like it was his one and only job. “M’gonna make it all better, kitten,” he murmured brushing his lips over her forehead again. “Promise.”

--

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[envyenvys]

Stobin Mandalorian AU part 2

(aka s3 stobin accidentally acquire a magic baby)

[1] [You Are Here] [3] [4]

The car ride back to the elevator is not pleasant, Steve needs to stop getting into situations where his brain’s melting too much to stop the kids from driving. Aba doesn’t seem to like it much either, but as long as Robin’s holding her she won’t cry. They narrowly avoid hitting a bunch of barrels right at the end — thank god for Erica. Car crashes can not be good for babies.

Steve and Robin sit huddled in the corner of the elevator the whole ride up, because it isn’t exactly stable either and if either of them drops the baby Steve is going to die. Dustin and Erica won’t stop bickering, but it’s fine because they’re alive and Robin’s alive and the baby’s alive and Steve’s alive to enjoy them all being alive, and they’re finally leaving that stupid Russian bunker.

“What is wrong with you two?” Erica demands.

“They seem drunk.” Dustin frowns, crouching down over Steve. He grabs Steve’s face by the bruises and pushes his eyelids up, which hurts a lot, thank you very much. “His pupils are super dilated, I think they might’ve been drugged. Were you drugged, Steve?”

“No, but they gave us goop,” Steve says helpfully.

He’s seen drugs — Munson keeps a bunch in his lunchbox to sell at parties — and they definitely aren’t blue or goopy. They’re usually like, green and dry. Or white and dry. Or—

“They gave you goop?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he doesn’t nod because the last time he did that it was really not fun. “And now I’m blue. And my bones are soup. Soupy. Not like yours, you have strong bones.”

“They’re definitely drugged,” Erica says, looking down at them with a little too much contempt for a ten-year-old.

“Steve, this is important,” Dustin says, and there’s a tightness around his eyes that Steve would definitely be able to interpret if his brain wasn’t soup. “I need to know where you parked your car.”

“Um,” Steve says. His head is really starting to hurt again. It stopped when they got the goop but the elevator’s bringing it back. “Uh oh.”

“What do you mean ‘uh oh’?”

“Keys are gone.”

He’d turn out his pockets to show Dustin but that would disturb Robin which would disturb the baby, and he really doesn’t want to disturb Aba. She’s too small and tiny and perfect.

“What do you mean the keys are gone?” Dustin grits out.

“The Russians took them, like, forever ago.”

“You stopped to get a whole baby but you didn’t think to get your keys!?”

That’s not even remotely the same thing.

Robin shushes him very loudly, “No shouting, you’ll wake the baby.”

“She’s already awake,” Dustin says, rolling his eyes.

Aba blinks her big brown eyes up at Dustin.

“I can’t believe you two managed to find some random white baby down there,” Erica says, crossing her arms. “I deserve extra ice cream for having to put up with this.”

“The baby is where you draw the line?” Dustin asks, exasperated.

“I can deal with bodily harm and the threat of imminent death,” Erica says. Which, wow. Okay. “What I can’t deal with is changing diapers. I have standards.”

The two of them start bickering again, and Steve takes the opportunity to stare at Aba’s perfect little face. She scrunches her nose at him but smiles when he brushes a finger over one of her soft little cheeks, the way Robin did earlier.

He doesn’t think he’s ever loved anyone this quickly before. His heart feels like it’s about to burst, growing and growing until it fills all the hollows in his chest. It chokes at his throat and makes his bruised ribs throb, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

The moment passes and Dustin’s dragging them all up and out of the elevator again, but his heart doesn’t get any smaller.

Aba makes the tiniest, cutest little gasp when they get out into the fresh air, and he knows exactly how she feels because the air outside tastes wonderful. He’s never appreciated air the way it deserves to be appreciated.

The few stars already out are bright, and Aba stares up at them like she’s never seen anything like them before, and it hits Steve that she might not have. She’s only what, a few months old? How many opportunities would she have gotten to go outside? Was she even born outside the bunker or did they make her as a science baby under Starcourt?

It hurts to have to bring her back inside again. When this is all over, he and Robin are going to take her outside and they’ll spend, like, a whole day out there just enjoying the air, and the sun, and the stars.

Dustin tries to make them sit in the theatre but he barely even cracks the doors open before Steve backs up, shaking his head. Ow.

“Not in there, it’s too loud.” Movie theatres are horrible places for babies. And headaches.

Dustin makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

“Fine,” he says. “Just— sit out here, don’t move. I’ll be back in a minute. Erica, keep watch.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Erica says, but sneaks down to the hall to keep watch anyway.

Steve stares down at the baby again.

“Do you think Aba knows what flowers are?” he asks. Robin scrunches her nose at him.

“What?”

“She’s probably been down there for like, her whole life right? Would the Russians show her flowers?”

“That’s not—” Robin shakes her head, then winces. “What did you call the baby?”

“Aba?” He tilts his head. Robin squints at him. “It’s her name, see?”

He shows her the blanket, and Robin stares at the stitching for a long moment before her eyes go wide and then they go really sad.

“Steve,” she says softly, holding the baby closer, “that’s not her name, it’s a number. It’s pronounced dva, I think. It means ‘two’.”

“Oh.”

Dva. Two. Not Aba, not a name. Just a number, like Eleven.

But they don’t call her Eleven, do they? They call her El. A nickname.

“Abby,” Steve says decisively. Robin makes a questioning noise.

“She needs a nickname, like El, so she can be Abby.”

“Abby,” Robin says softly, looking down at the baby. Abby smiles.

[Next]

[masivechaos]

LOVE YOU THROUGH ETERNITY

remus lupin x fem! reader

Request: yes / no

see the request here!

Synopsis: When everything seems lost in the darkness, Remus is the light you need.

Warning/content: hurt to comfort, angst, canon war era & deaths, crying, kissing, my English

a.n.: 1.3k words- anon i hope i did justice to your quote

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

The current times were terrifying. The war was going as hard as ever and Voldemort decided to have as his principal targets the person you considered being your sister and her husband to get their child. You haven’t seen Lily and James for weeks now and you missed them terribly. You felt more than scared, not even knowing where or how they were.

You were staring out the window, eyes dry, you were not even able to cry anymore, too many tears had fallen already. You didn’t even react when Remus wrapped his arms around your waist, his chest against your back, too lost in your thoughts.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, his lips resting on your temple. You didn’t answer, holding on to his arms, not wanting him to let go.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, snuggling as close as possible to him.

Remus held you a little tighter “What are you scared of, dove?”

You turned around and looked up at Remus. His hand stroked your cheek gently, inviting you to talk, allowing you to let it out for the first time in months. “Everything.”

You had never told him about your fears, you felt like there was already too much going on, and you didn’t need to add more problems to the already existing stack. You just bottled up everything. He saw you cry but you never could tell him what was happening inside your head. And today you couldn’t anymore, your mind was too loud to keep it quiet. “Tell me more,” he said, holding you close to him as your head found the crook of his neck.

“I’m scared for Lily and James. I don’t want anything to happen to them,” you let out a sob, terrified at the idea that they could end up hurt or worst. You tried to calm the torrent of thoughts that was running inside your brain by listening to Remus’ slow heartbeat.

Remus softly kissed the top of your head “They’re going to be okay. Nobody knows where they are, except maybe Sirius- he’s probably the keeper of the secret- but he won’t tell anyone.” He dropped another kiss, “They are safe, I promise you.”

You shut your eyes. You wanted him to be right. You wanted Lily and James to live the happy ever after she always told you about back in Hogwarts, you wanted Harry to live the wonderful life he deserved to have next to his parents. You tried your best to believe Remus. 

He promised.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Your vision was blurry, eyes filled with tears. You couldn’t speak, the lump in your throat was stopping you from saying anything. You held Remus’ arm so tight you were sure you were going to leave bruises on his skin. You didn’t even remember how you got their address, there were some things so much more important at the moment.

James and Lily’s cottage was a mess. There were pieces of glass everywhere, shattered wood on the carpet floor and even more chaos displayed here and there. But it wasn’t what you cared about, your eyes were locked on James’ dead body.

Horrified, you couldn’t detach your gaze from your friend. After what felt like an eternity but were a few seconds, Remus’ hand covered your eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, voice far away from your ears, as if his soul was far away from his body.

“B-but Lily,” you choke, feeling the pain stabbing your chest, your heart bleeding inside your body.

Remus looked up the stairs, was must be Harry’s room seemed to be in complete disaster “It’s over, love… it’s over…” You weren’t the first ones to come to the crime scene, Harry was saved and outside, if Lily were alive she would have been by his side.

Even more tears ran down your face “I have to check- I- I-”

The small amount of energy you had left your body and you collapsed to the ground, unable to breathe “Tell me it’s not true,” you sobbed. You grasped Remus’ shirt, almost tearing the fabric in the distress you were feeling.

Remus held you tight, crying silently as you tried your best to break the embrace, you wanted to see Lily. After a minute you gave up, letting yourself break down in Remus’ arms.

Everything that happened after this was blurry in your mind. Sirius and Peter came here too to find the tragedy that was now the Potter’s cottage before aurors accused Harry’s godfather of betrayal. You didn’t know exactly what happened only that Sirius ended up in Azkaban and Peter was dead but for the rest, your mind decided to erase any other memories from this awful night.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Your chest was empty if it wasn’t for the melting of fear and anger that was stinging your heart everyday. You were still with Remus, you needed each other to not drive yourselves insane but you both were acting like ghosts.

So as you were laying with your head on Remus’ chest, you absently traced shapes on his arm, eyes filled with tears.

You had no one except him. Lily was dead, James was dead, Marlene was dead, Dorcas was dead, Peter was dead. Mary didn’t talk to you anymore to cope with grief as much as she could. Alice and Frank were alive but not living. Sirius was in Azkaban and a betrayer.

You tried your best to hide the sound of your cries but Remus heard, of course he did, wolf hearing and all. “Love,” he whispered, his own voice was broken, he was probably crying too.

You snaked your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest, letting your tears stain his sweater. “Why are we still here?” Being one of your only friends to be still alive was a feeling you couldn’t explain. You felt pain and anger and remorse and guilt eating slowly everyday.

“I don’t know,” he said before holding you a little closer to him, he couldn’t believe that even with all of this he didn’t lose you. He wouldn’t call himself lucky but some days when he woke up by your side, he was telling himself that maybe everything didn’t seem hopeless.

The silence settled in the living room again. You knew the war was over, Voldemort was gone, but something in a corner of your mind was telling you that maybe it wasn’t. Maybe something horrible was going to happen.

You were terrified at the idea of losing Remus. You couldn’t. If he ever died, he was going to carry the last pieces of soul that existed inside of you with him. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“I love you, Remus. And I’m scared I won’t be able to love you anymore if anything happens,” you said as more tears fell down your cheeks. Remus cradled your face between his hands, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t want you to die, I want to love you until we’re old and we die.” You cleared your throat, “I want to love you and I want you to stay alive.”

“Our souls belong together, dove,” he smiled softly, “when I can’t love you in this lifetime anymore, I will find you in another and love you then, I’ll do this over and over until I love you through eternity,” he said, looking into your eyes, holding your hand tightly.

Your heart throbbed in your chest, it was the purest form of love confession you ever heard and it turned you into a puddle. You were melting between Remus’ hands. Remus kissed your lips tenderly, “I’ll love you through eternity, Y/n. I promise you.”

Remus kept his promise. He loved you every day. He stayed by your side and both of your souls healed together, slowly and softly. Remus was the light you needed through the darkest times.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ remus lupin taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sw34terw34ther @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @moonlitmeeks  @rhydianissuperior @loveeharrington @mad-elia @jackys-stuff-blog @elenatries2write @princess-paramour @juneberrie @faeriieblush @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @sparklenarniawizard @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @violetteshoneybee @unadulterated-syd @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @garfieldsladybird @kidcuisinesvcks @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll @spookydarkwitch @imshiningjustforyou @vancitycharlie @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @venussflytraps @diorgirl444 @oncasette @locke-writes @dori-and-gray @itsarajr @maddipoof @starconfettii @widowbf

[dreamersbcll]

Sam has to watch Christina killing tara

“You missed my heart”

she got me good, i knew she would

——————————————————————————-

Sam doesn't know what happened.

That was a lie. She knew what would happen if she left. Through all the drugs and alcohol in her bloodstream, she knew all too well what would happen the minute she escaped the lion’s den.

Christina Carpenter was starving for something to sink her teeth into, and Tara was there, ripe for the taking.

And yet, Sam left. She escaped into the darkness on the eve of her eighteenth birthday and ran far, far away from the town that raised her. She escaped by the skin of her teeth, a permanent scowl etched on her lips, and never looked back.

Or at least she tried.

Somewhere around her twenty-first birthday, Sam could feel it there. A gnawing, aching pain in her stomach, a pus-filled that sat there and festered in her gut.

Guilt.

She knows well that her escapade into the night was just signing the death certificate for her little sister. It was the last chess move, the one that stopped the game of chicken she had been playing with her mother ever since Tara learned to walk.

Sam saw how her mother watched Tara. Predatory. Christina was constantly sizing up the small girl, drinking in her strengths, capitalizing on her weaknesses.

The difference between the sisters was simple, besides the height, of course. Sam was a Loomis. She knew how to fight, how to live on scraps, how to defend herself. Tara was a Carpenter; she knew how to run, how to hide. All would be well if their mother weren’t a combination of both.

Christina fell in love with Loomis first, after all. It was only a matter of time before she attacked the thing about herself that she hated the most—the Carpenter name.

Sam would kill her if Tara had let her. She was itching, always itching to take out the woman who stared down her little girl like she was wounded prey, ripe for the picking. Even while inebriated, Sam knew that she had to be ready for the fight that would eventually come.

And the fight did indeed come, later than Sam thought it would. It was the night of Tara’s sixteenth birthday; while Sam was lighting the candle of the little cupcake she bought at the grocery store where she worked, she received a text.

Tara: SOS. mom

It took Sam an hour flat to pull her car into the front yard of the home that she once lived in.

She flew out of the car, not even bothering to wear a seatbelt. In one hand, she clutched her phone, the other a rusty hammer she found in an old toolbox at work.

From outside, she could hear screaming. How none of the neighbors heard it was a mystery to her. But it didn't matter. Sam was here. And she was hungry for blood.

Sam threw open the front door, following the screaming to the kitchen. There, she saw a sight that would be forever burned into her mind: one that would keep her up at night, rip her awake from her sleep, screaming and clawing at the skin she lived within.

Christina had Tara pinned to the ground, bloody hands wrapped around her little sister’s throat, pressing down hard. Tara’s eyes were bloodshot, and her nails dug into Christina’s hands, clawing at the skin that took away her breath. Gasping and shaking, Tara was trying to fight back, black bruises blooming across her cheek, dried blood staining her nostrils.

The hammer in Sam’s hands shook, her body frozen in shock. She wasn’t sure what was worse- the fact that Tara couldn’t see Sam was here now or the way Christina looked up at Sam’s frozen body and grinned at her. As if she was sure that her firstborn would turn around and run away again and let the lion take down the prey it deserved.

But Sam had already promised herself that she would never run again. And that the hammer in her hands wasn’t going to leave without blood caked onto its cold steel.

Within seconds, Sam ripped Christina off of her sister and threw the woman across the floor, relishing in how she skittered across the tile like a loose penny. Sam reached down and pulled Tara up by her armpits, forcing the girl to her feet and shoving her down the hallway, leaving the girl to catch her breath on her own. Choking but alive, Tara stumbled away, her eyes shining with something close to relief and joy.

Satisfied that her sister was out of the way, Sam returned to her mother, teeth bared. Her mother was already up and on her feet, her eyes darkening at the sight of her vengeful firstborn. Christina’s eyes flitted down, briefly taking in the weapon in Sam’s hand.

“And so she returns,” the woman sneers, her voice cold.

Sam smiled a vast, unforgiving grin. “I heard you were missing a Loomis in your life. Too bad the first one died like a little bitch,” she retorted.

Her mother sneered. “Say hi to him, won’t you?”

And the two collided.

Luckily for Sam, dreams do come true. Sam did get to kill their mother. She took it slow. Each movement was drawn out, careful calculations to inflict the most pain. Dull thuds of a hammer could be heard, blood spattering the kitchen and skin of the daughter Christina Carpenter loathed. It was over in an hour. Two tops.

After her mother’s body finally hit the floor with a splat, Sam pulled away, breathing hard, admiring her work. If she weren’t so enamored with her bloodlust, she would’ve noticed her little sister creep back into the kitchen, gasping at the sight.

Shit.

Tara pressed herself against her big sister’s side, seemingly ignoring the blood that dripped down Sam’s forearms. Both sisters stood in silence, looking at the body that gave them life, now dead on their kitchen floor.

Sam wasn’t an idiot. She could feel Tara’s breaths picking up, the guilt of not being strong enough consuming her. The shame of losing another parent because she just wasn’t worth it.

Fuck that. Tara was always worth it to Sam, even if Sam ran away, too.

Sam glanced down at Tara, the adrenaline in her body fading as she saw the sadness in her little sister’s eyes. Her fingers twitched, one hand still grasping onto the bloody hammer. All she wanted to do was cup her little sister's face between her bloodstained hands and whisper,

We’re connected to her by pure coincidence. It’s by blood, but it’s all relative. She is not you. You are not her. I won’t let you become her. I promise.

Instead, Sam lays her free hand on Tara’s shoulder, ignoring how her girl flinches a bit at the action. She gently squeezes Tara’s shoulder and softly repeats the same chant repeatedly. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here, I’m here now.”

“She’s dead,” Tara breathed, her voice cracking with emotion.

Wincing, Sam nods. Their mother was nothing but a crumpled corpse on their kitchen floor, her blood painting the tiles that still had the sisters' blood caked onto it. History repeating itself. Blood of the mother returning to her daughters.

But Sam couldn’t dwell on that now. Christina was dead. Tara was battered and bruised but alive. Sam was back. It was time for her to take her little girl away, far away, from this town and the blood they spilled in it.

Clearing her throat, Sam squeezed Tara’s shoulder particularly hard, forcing the girl to listen to her. “We’ve been in her fists ever since we were little kids. But we don’t owe her shit. Not anymore. Not ever again,” Sam paused, looking down at Tara’s stunned face.

Dropping the hammer to the ground, ignoring the dull thunk that echoed throughout the quiet house. She got down on one knee, cupping Tara’s face, pressing her forehead against her little sister’s.

Sam breathed in and out, her adrenaline fading. “She won’t ever touch you again.”

She pressed their foreheads together hard, trying to force that truth into Tara’s head. She knows her little sister. Sam knows that Tara is wondering, wondering what if Christina gets up and finishes the job? What if she comes alive before their eyes? The devil can’t die, can he?

Sam can see it all in her little girl’s eyes. And it kills her.

Tara swallowed hard, one hand shaking up to touch the ring of bruises strung across her throat. Sam winced at the action, her heart straining. If only she were quicker. Then maybe, just maybe, Tara wouldn’t have to witness the carnage that came after.

But it didn’t matter. Her little girl closed her eyes, her eyelids fluttering in quiet solace. Softly, Tara spoke, her voice still. “Promise?”

Sam breathed out, a little smile creeping across her face.

“I promise.”

[ohtobeleah]

My Brothers Keeper // A ToE Blurb

Summary: Rhett Abbotts eulogy at Robert Floyd’s funeral leaves not a dry eye in sight.

Warnings: Mentions of Death. Angst. Heartbreaking goodbye.

Ward Count: 0.7

Author Note: I couldn’t help myself. I was feeling so angsty.

-> Fall into the Terms of Endearment universe here.

“I'm not a man of many words.” Rhett Abbott stood tall with proud shoulders as he cleared his throat and held himself together. “But if there's one thing I know for sure it's that I'll never be the same man I was before I lost my brother Rob.”

You sat with your daughter on your lap. Odette wasn't old enough to understand what all this was about– all she knew was that the metal in her little hands was one of Toosters. He’d given it to her when she had started to squirm a little. 

“There will forever be a melancholy in me that will never go away.” Rhett's voice sounded as raspy as you'd ever know it to be as he spoke through the microphone. You knew this was a lot for him–speaking at his brothers, his twins' funeral. 

“I'll be fifty percent happy and fifty percent sad at any given moment.” It was never supposed to end like this. At the funeral of a man taken far too soon who gave his life being a better man than most could ever strive to be. “And the only advice I feel like I'm qualified to share with anyone who has ever lost someone like that is, is, is that you won't ever get over it.” Not a soul could be heard during Rhett's eulogy–quiet sobs only ever kissed your ears when gentle gusts of a warm breeze picked up around you. 

“The more you know that and the more you embrace it, the better off you are.” You could see the way Bradley bounced his knee up and down with anxiety–with a gentle and ever so soothing touch, you placed your hand atop his knee to keep him grounded. Today had been hard, for everyone. 

“I never want to forget my brother–what it felt like the moment I found out he was taken far too soon, because he deserves that.” Rhett's biggest regret in life had been he never had the time he thought he’d have to mend his relationship with the brother he really did love. Now he stood here, at his funeral, saying goodbye to the better version of himself. The version he had always been jealous of. The version Rhett lived in the shadow of. 

“That's how important he was to me.” It was all Rhett wanted to say, it was all Rhett wished he could say to Bob. if he just had one more minute, one more chance to say what he needed to say he’d tell Rob he was important. 

He never did get that chance–by the time Rhett and Natasha were finding out about what had happened it was already too late. Bob was gone. Rhett never did get that beer.

“So if I have to suffer and if I have to be sad for the rest of my life and if I have to be alone without him, without his particular things, his sense of humour, what he brought to life with his mannerisms and all the things that made Bob–simply Bob.” You couldn't hold back your tears any longer as your bottom lip quivers and you held onto your daughter a little tighter. 

Jake sat beside you, sandwiching you between the two men who cared the most about you. Bradley and Jake himself. They both saw shadows of bruised still–memories forever beaten into their skin. 

“Then uh–yeah, that's the way I'll honour him.” Rhett choked as he took a moment to regain his composure. This was the most he’d ever spoken in public. Natasha Phoenix Trance had not moved from beside Bob's coffin with her head bowed the entire eulogy, ready and waiting to present Rhett with Bob's wings. 

“You know, I'll be sad and melancholy about that forever and I know it. I accept it and I'll live with it because forgetting a guy like Bob?” Rhett paused as he looked up to see you and Odett sitting in the crowd amongst what felt like a million people who loved his brother and knew there wasn't a single thing Bob would have done differently knowing the two of you were safe. That you were finally free. 

“That would be Impossible.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

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[blackheart1454]

We own you (Yandere!Creepypasta x Abused!Depressed Reader) Chapter 1

Warnings!: Abuse, violence.

Minors get the fuck out of here! 🔞+

Hello everyone! This is my first Creepypasta x Reader fanfic, I hope everyone enjoy it! I must apologize if the fanfic have grammar and spelling mistakes, english isn't my native language, but I'm trying very hard! 

Thanks and enjoy the story

Chapter 2

I was panting heavily, feeling the blood staining every part of my body. I was chained against the wall. Naked, cover in boiling water burns, cuts, cigarette burns and bruises. Why I am here? Let me tell you my history. I used to be a happy girl with a normal life. I had two lovely parents, that were worry about me and always made sure that I had everything I need. My mom was a nurse and my father a journalist. I barely remember my mother, she was always busy at the hospital, she worked the whole day, and when she didn’t, she came home pretty late and, in that circumstance, my father was my best friend. He used to look after me, he used to take me to school, he used to listen to my problems… he used to love me.

One day, my mother got terrible sick, and my father did everything to cure her, to find a treatment… but as time passed, my mother’s illness became increasingly worse. She died one Friday at 12:00 am. From that day, dad started to act weird. He started to avoid me in every way, like I never exist. I never see him until night, but he was passed away on the coach with a smell of alcohol. That routine continued for 2 months. I knew he was having a hard time by dealing with mom’s death, I was waiting for him to recover, to return to the lovely father I knew, but I was wrong. So wrong.

Who knew that my life would become a nightmare overnight? First the insults began, then the beatings, finally the torture. I never knew what I did for deserve this, the only thing I was sure, he was always blaming me for mom’s death. I had to deal with the pain every second. There were days that I was bruised so bad that I hardly had the strength to stay awake. I never told anyone about this, he treated to kill me if I did… because of that I never had friends.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.”

I was so focus on my thoughts that I didn’t notice the man entered to the room.

“Did you sleep well you little shit?” he whispered in my ear.

“Y-yes..” I said. I could barely talk, my throat hurt from screaming and I hadn’t drink water in days.

“Yes, what? And look at me while I’m talking to you!” he pulled my hair to face him clearly annoyed.

“Y-yes.. s-sir” I replayed softly.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” he shouted angrily.

“YES SIR!”

“That’s better” he said pleased while unlocking the chains. “Get dress, you have 5 minutes and don’t keep me waiting.”

“Yes sir!” I said, and immediately ran to my room. I open the closet to put the first things that I found. I was kidding, I didn’t have a closet. I didn’t have furniture at all. That man sold most of the things of my room to buy alcohol and cigarettes. The only thing I had was an old futon that I used as bed and my cloths that were throw to the floor. Most of the were rip apart by the man when he was in bad mood. I only have simple t-shirts, sweaters, hoodies and jeans. I picked up (f/c) sweater, a (f/c) t-shirt, black ripped jeans and black combat boot. I took my bag pack and ran out of the house. My father was already waiting in his black car, with hesitation I approached it. Lucky for me, he didn’t say anything and started the car. It took around 25 minutes to arrive to school, the ride was uncomfortably silent. It was the same routine every fucking day. Waking up, dress up, go to the hellhole which is call school, return to home, eat a half bread, do the homework and the beating sections. I got out of the car and enter the building.

“Hey look the freak is here.”

“What a slut.”

“She looks like a mummy with all that bandages on.”

“Emo freak.”

“Why the hell is she still coming here?”

Same day, same routine, same idiots who don’t have anything better to do, it didn’t matter anyways. Since my father started to abusive me, nobody approached me because of the horrible bruises I have and they got me nicknames like the “emo freak”. Just keep going (Y/N), and let the idiots be idiots. I entered to the classroom, that was empty and wait for the teacher. I put on my headphones and listen to (f/s) while sketching on my math’s notebook.  Little by little, it was filling up the people. A little later the school’s bell rings, the teacher followed by enter the room.

“Good morning everyone” the teacher said.

“Good morning” everybody replied, except me.

“You have a pop quiz, so take out your pencils and keep everything away.”

Everybody complained and the teacher just ignore them. Lucky for me I have nice grades on (f/s). While doing the quiz, I couldn’t help but notice that there was something or better… someone watching me outside. I looked thought the window and saw what it looks like a monochromatic clown, and he had an evil smirk on his face.

“Miss (l/n) is there something wrong?” the teacher interrupted me.

“Eh… w-what?”

“I asked if there is something wrong?” the woman said annoyed.

“Eeehh… n-nothing miss” I murmured.

“The hurry up! You only have 20 minutes to complete the quiz!” she said while the others start to complain again.

I looked thought the window again, only to notice that the creepy clown was gone. What the hell was that?

??? P.O.V

-Soon. Very soon, just wait dear (Y/N), we will come for you. We will end your pain, you will be happy with us, you will love us…. Because you don’t have choice.-

----------

This fanfic is also published on Wattpad, Quotev and Archive of Our Own, my user name is the same.

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[peggy-sue-reads-a-book]

The Garden of Innocence

Dionysus x Ariadne | Greek Mythology | Teen+

Summary: Theseus is Edward Cullen a real piece of shit.

Illustration panels: (x)

Chapter 4

The truth was, Theseus was an excellent sailor. He was a novice, however, at the slaying of fearsome beasts. He had not expected to survive the labyrinth.

He was seventeen and had gotten lucky. And he loved Athens.

That, and he was the last, obviously, to find the Minotaur. The death blow to a creature with weak eyes and a bruised head. The real monster had been stench of the pit. And the darkness. Then there was the crunch and clatter underfoot. And worse, anything warm.

The thing had charged him. As it did, he skewered it through the eye with a rib snapped from the litter on the floor. It was just enough longer than the monster’s horns. And after it fell, he stabbed it again. He even opened its dead mouth, rammed the splintered rib through the back of its throat and left it there. No longer was he thinking of Athens. He was thinking of his back, and the fear of turning it to run.

That is what happened. That is how the Minotaur died. And after, Theseus followed nothing more substantial than a silk thread to find his way out again. It was an evil place. Even with the monster’s death-rattle behind him, the maze still breathed. When he returned to the light of Knossos, he was sweating and white as with fever.

Ariadne was so beautiful. Overjoyed to see him, never minding his drenched hair and shaking hands. He sunk to his knees, hid his face against her. Clinging to her as a suppliant— this beautiful girl he never expected to see again. What’s more, her things were packed.

He couldn’t just leave her.

The ship seemed so empty. There was not one surviving tribute besides himself. Would he return home a hero? Or merely a guilty survivor? He needed time to think. And the voyage from Crete to the mainland was short. He felt terrible for tricking her. He really did.

But she believed him so easily. Where was the hurt?

Their second night on Naxos, he build her a fire of blue and green. They gazed at stars and she fell asleep with her head in his lap.

He nodded off only a few times, his chin dipping to his chest just before he startled awake again. His legs and lower back cramped from the rigid stillness of that night. He knew he deserved it. There was sand in his ass. He deserved that too.

He would not wake her. The little movement he allowed himself was to touch her curls. It was a pleasure. “You’re so soft,” he whispered, trailing his fingertips along her cheek, down her neck.

The dark ocean was loud, almost menacing. The earliest light turned it purple— like wine. Every groaning tree, even the little frogs that peeped made his neck prickle. Some hero, he thought.

As the sky yellowed, Theseus could not bear it any longer. “Princess,” he said giving her shoulder a squeeze. When she only stirred a little before falling back asleep, he spoke louder. “Ariadne.”

“Hmm?”

She blinked up at him and yawned.

“I need to talk to you.”

The way she looked a him. No longer with guileless fawning, but caution. Like a startled animal when a twig snaps.

She sat up, inching to the very edge of his cloak. For a moment no part of them touched. Then she lay a hand against his thigh.

“Yes?” she said.

He rubbed the back of his neck and gulped. “The wind is right today,” he said, “I could probably reach home by dusk.

Her face brightened. “We’re going to Athens! Oh!” Her hands found both of his.

He looked just past her, at the lonely ship bobbing in the rising tide. He tried to let go of her, but found himself gripping her fingers all the tighter.

“You can’t go with me,” he said at last.

“What?”

His breath shook, “Ariadne, I can’t marry you.”

Tears sprung in her eyes. She jerked her hands out of his. “Well, that’s too bad because you’ve got to now. I’ve been alone with you for days and Minos would kill me before taking me back!”

He looked away, reddening. “I have not taken your honor,” he mumbled.

“As if that matters!” She stood over him, her voice rising to an angry screech.

Something in the pitch of her voice annoyed him. “A priest might still confirm your purity,” he said harshly. There was no cause for her to make a spectacle of herself. He had expected a delicate reaction: weeping, perhaps.

“Theseus, what are you saying? I thought- I thought-“

“I do love you,” he said, “But I can’t bring you into Athens. You might not even be safe.”

“Why not?” she cried.

“Think about it,” he raised his voice, tears now in his own eyes, “Every year since you can remember. Your parents—“ His words were brittle with sudden anger, “Do you realize what they levied from us? A ship full of - of-“

“Of course I do,” she said, “I helped you to kill my own brother.”

“Your brother? How can you call it that?”

The dull eyes. The grinding teeth. Hot breath in the dark.

She held her up to look him sharply in the eye. “We have the same mother. You already killed him. What does it matter if I show him a little dignity?”

“I could ask you the same thing! It eats fourteen children every harvest and you’re concerned with its dignity?”

He was flushed, shaking in his anger. She was frightened.

“He is my brother. You have my loyalty which is all I can give. I cannot change blood and nature and history to your liking.”

Theseus looked very near to striking her. She held rigidly still. She would not flinch from him; she had already given enough.

“It is as I have said.” He frowned deeply, but appeared to have mastered his temper. “You are not a fit bride for Athens.”

“But what about you? I love you.”

“I know,” he softened at last. “But I am not my own person. I came to Knossos ready to die for my city. I will not lose what I have fought for over an imprudent marriage.”

“You sound like a king,” she said.

“I will be a king. And Athens and Crete are still enemies. Can’t you see what will happen?”

She could, but was too offended to relent.

He took her silence for ignorance. “If I take you to Athens, your father’s fleet will be right behind us. His wealth is in gold and ships. If he plunders us, he could afford the mercenary forces necessary to move further into the mainland.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” she answered sharply, “I betrayed him. I’m not worth the ships it would take to recover me.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off. “I know him better than you do.”

He looked away from her. “Fine. Say he didn’t follow us. It’s still not acceptable. My father will arrange a marriage for me that will credit him. You will not.”

“But you love me.”

“Not enough to lose wars for you.”

She backed away from him, an angry knot in her gut. “You used me.”

“I did not mean to— I didn’t think of it—“

“You should go.”

“Ariadne, you have to forgive me—“

“I don’t have to do anything.” For a moment she seriously considered spitting at his feet.

“I didn’t think I would live — I thought you were the last girl I’d ever see. I shouldn’t have—. Ariadne, I’m sorry. I have wronged you, I am wronging you now, but—“

“Theseus, go.”

He reached for her, but she turned her face away. His last kiss landed awkwardly on her ear. She flinched in annoyance.

“The gods keep you, princess,” he said.

“Take your cloak. I don’t want it.”

She neither replied nor turned away. But she watched him all the way to his boat. Only once the vessel was free of its mooring did he realize she was gone. He had not seen her run. Theseus squared his shoulders, calves straining to push the hull through the sand. He could be home by dusk if he kept focus. A humid wind filled his black sail, and he jumped aboard.

@dionysian-daydream @hycinthrt @withlovefromolympus @kebriones @margaretkart @lefty-scissors @human-still-developing @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @silly-billy-the-bunny @shitfacedalways

[sunshiline-writes]

A Rose Amidst Thorns #13: A Promise Amidst the Nightmare

okay so.. imma be real this took me so long and im still not super happy with it. But if I don't post it now I never will so.. enjoy.. CW: lady whump, poc whump, mentioned minor whump (just barely), choking, mentions of historical slavery (please don't kill me), gore, hanging, torture, dehumanization, fear of death, fear of witnessing death Whumpee referred as a dog a lot idk man, toxic relationships, past abusive relationship, past toxic relationship, complicated character dynamics, fade to black noncon, thoughts of murder I THINK that's everything, let me know if I missed anything. Previous | Masterlist | Next

There was blood on the floor. Solomon’s blood. It scattered on the wood, drops staining it. Henrietta had already cleaned the broken plate, now she was working on the blood. She was cleaning her friend's blood from the ground. Xavier had beat him until he was almost unrecognizable. His eyes had swollen, his skin had turned red and purple. His lips swollen and split. He barely even looked human. Solomon was unconscious by the time Xavier dragged him upstairs. 

She was ordered to clean the blood. No matter how much she scrubbed and scraped, the blood wouldn’t come out of the wood. It had stained it, become one with it. They had waited too long. Her knees hurt from being on them for so long. Her hands were dried and cracked from the soapy water and cloth she had used to try and clean. Everything frustrated her, the stains in the wood, the stains on her dress. Her nose was still throbbing from its earlier assault. 

Henrietta pressed her forehead against the ground and sighed. The pressure of the ground against her was nice. She took deep steadying breaths, trying her best to calm her racing heart. When she opened her eyes, there was still blood. 

“Get up.” 

Henrietta pushed herself to her knees, staring up at Xavier. Tears welling in her eyes. There was no warmth in Xavier, all she felt from him was the cold rage. He grabbed her by the arm when she didn’t get up fast enough, pulling her forward, dragging her with him. “Just wait.. I-” Henrietta started to say, but she was cut off by a short growl. Xavier continued to half drag, half walk her out the door of their house. Their house, she still called it their house. It was hard to break that habit. It was his house, now she was just living in it. She knew that she was being taken to the barn. How could she not know? It was right in front of her, getting closer with every step. 

“Xavier, please..” she whispered as he threw the door open. What was she begging for? Henrietta didn’t know. His grip only tightened on her arm, bruising. One more to add to the array on her body.  

“Just shut up already,” he growled, shoving her forward. 

She stumbled forward and tried to avoid falling on her face. When she finally looked up, she gasped. In the middle of the barn lay Miguel. Rope around him that had recently been cut. His legs were still tied together. There was a noose around his neck, though the rest of the rope hung off a beam in the ceiling. 

“Xavier what did you do?”   

“Nothing he didn’t deserve. There’s a chair on the other side. Go sit in it,” he said, voice low and rough. 

“Xavier I don’t understa-” 

His hand shot out and he grabbed her by the throat. Squeezing and shoving her backwards. She stumbled back instinctively, eyes going wide and mouth opening in an attempt to get some air. Xavier walked backwards until her hind legs hit the back of the chair and he shoved her down to sit. Hand still wrapped her throat, he squeezed. Her lungs and throat burned. Everything was blurry and her vision went dark around the edges. When she started to slump, he let her go. She gasped, taking in lungfuls of air. 

“Stay there,” he growled, “I want you to watch.” 

Henrietta was too busy sucking in lungfuls of air to really grasp what he was doing. She couldn’t get enough air. When she finally could breathe without her vision fading, she looked up. Xavier’s hands were on the rope. The rope that hung loosely over the beam in the ceiling, the one connected to the noose around Miguel's neck. Xavier’s eyes connected with hers. Then he pulled on the rope. 

“Xavier stop!” she screamed as choked sounds came from Miguel. His feet slid on the wood and his hands clawed at the rope around his neck. “You’re going to kill him!” 

“Why shouldn’t I? Would it really matter if I did? He’s just a dog.” Xavier’s eyes were wild, unhinged. He looked as if he really would kill Miguel, right here, in front of her. 

Henrietta improvised. Trying to take the attention off the choking boy in front of her, who was turning blue. “Xavier. Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll never forgive you. I’ll kill you.” 

He released the rope and Miguel fell to the ground with a dull thud, gasping and choking for air. Miguel was crying, shaking and sobbing. When had Xavier put on the blindfold? Henrietta didn’t recall. Her memories were flooded. 

“You’ll kill me? Over a mutt?” Xavier asked softly. Releasing the rope from his hands. “Didn’t you ever love me?” 

Henrietta’s eyes widened. She did once. A long time ago. Before Xavier was all rage and hatred. He wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was, she was just blind to it. In her youth, she was blind to a lot of things. She was blind to the way he was built, all hard stone and jagged edges. Darkness surrounded him and perhaps, just for a little bit she was attracted to that darkness. She thought she had needed the darkness. Henrietta hadn’t realized that Xavier’s darkness was all consuming, destroying everything in its wake. 

Her parents had grown up in darkness. They had been freed  from slavery by their masters paying for their papers. They earned that money playing music for people.  Their masters had claimed their talents were wasted as slaves. So they set them free. How strange some people were, seeing a beautiful thing and instead of wanting to keep it, they wanted to see it flourish. Henrietta had grown up free, by the time she was four or five, slavery had been abolished and her parents had danced and drank. Her mother sang loudly, more loud than she had ever heard her sing. Her father’s violin had never sounded so happy. It was her most fond memory of her childhood. 

When she had seen Xavier for the first time, as a young woman, she was attracted to his calm outer shell. The way he was so confident and the way he tried to charm her. She liked the attention. Was that what caught her in the snare? The attention? 

She had always liked the love of the crowd. When they laughed and jeered it fueled her. Made her want to prove them wrong. She always proved them wrong. Her mother always said that spite would get her in trouble. After she married Xavier, it always did. She liked the fight, liked the way he would get frustrated and try to control himself when she did something particularly spiteful. Henrietta had enjoyed it, she had loved it. She loved him once. 

Henrietta had slowly fallen out of love when his anger became more and more uncontrolled. When every slight thing sets him off. He never hurt her, not really. It was the words that cut deep and true. The slow effort to control every aspect of her life. The last straw was Miguel. 

When he had brought him home, she had asked what he was going to do with him. 

I just got myself a new dog, I think, was the response.  

It wasn’t until a few years later though, after a particular conversation with Miguel and Solomon that sealed the deal. That made love turn into hate.  *

“What's the book about?” 

“Anger.” 

“Anger?” She repeated the sign, unsure of what it meant. The boy spelt it out for her. “Anger.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The Captain. He’s so angry all the time. He gets so angry he forgets about his crew and he’s focused on killing the whale.” 

“Oh. Did you like book?” 

“No. Everyone dies.” 

“Not everyone.” Solomon gently corrected, Miguel shrugged. He was fifteen at the time. And the shrug had become a common response. It was the only time she saw his real personality come out. Slightly sassy, and intense. 

“Ishmael lives,” Solomon continued. 

“You remind me of Ishmael.” 

“Oh? What about Hen?” 

Henrietta gave him a small smile. 

“The Captain.” 

Henrietta’s smile faded. No one expected that response. Solomon gave a nervous chuckle. 

“Oh. Well.. what about you? Who are you in the story Miguel?” 

His expression turned sour. Shrugging again and signing his next words with practiced ease.

“There are no dogs in the book.” 

There are no dogs in the book.  *

Xavier had made him believe that he was not a person. He was not a character in the book. He was just a dog. Nothing more than a slave. It reminded her of the stories her mother would sing about being a slave. It was the thing that broke her. “I did love you once. But you became a monster.” 

How easy it was, for love to turn into hatred. They weren’t all that different. Two sides of the same coin. Both such passionate fiery emotions that could tear the world apart if used correctly. 

Xavier grabbed her by the throat again, growling and hissing something. She couldn’t even help the choked laugh that escaped her. The fire that was growing in her chest. The hatred that poured from her, from him. The love that used to reside in that space between them had rotted and twisted into that hardly distinguishable hatred. 

Henrietta preferred the hatred. 

Xavier was her white whale. 

He stopped choking her, looking into her eyes, searching for something. Slowly, he stepped back. There was a chasm between them. It was a relief and it broke her heart. 

“All of this over a fucking kid.” 

“He’s not a kid anymore.” 

“You’re not my wife anymore.” 

Henrietta stared at him with a sense of indignation. “I haven’t been for a long time. We both know that.” 

Xavier smiled at her, cruel, unforgiving. “Yes. You’re right,” he lifted his hand to rub his face. “On your knees.” 

She didn’t move. It was always going to end like this. With him throwing her to the ground, wrenching her on her knees by the hair. His grip stayed firm in her hair as he undid his belt. Henrietta was going to kill him. She was going to kill him and use his own spurs to slit his throat. 

This was a promise.  __

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[rnschneider]

rampant storms toss around

the souls of the second circle,

sweeping them to and fro

as if they were simply rag dolls.

body lay still in the ground,

i look up at the sunless sky and

shudder- the downpour has left me shivering,

cold.

discomforting arms wrap around my chest,

attached to my body but still not my own.

i desperately want to claw them away but my body stays

frozen.

it’s a parasite, i conclude.

a second presence swarming through my soul

prodding through my brain

and dancing in my neurons, paralyzing me.

(i’m already dead. is this parasite attached to my spirit?)

even if i could move, just the desire of trying to unlatch this thing

fills me with an overwhelming sense of guilt. i don’t know

if it’s from its mind or mine. i don’t know if there’s even

a difference.

i feel i have to throw up soon. i haven’t opened my mouth

since i bore my sins for minos.

(a humiliating process.)

it started with a girl. another girl.

she made for a fun form of entertainment, for me and my friends to enjoy.

then she became a threat.

(to my reputation? to myself? does it even matter at this point?)

i tried to get rid of her. i thought it worked.

i hadn’t see her for years after that. i assumed she was dead.

i don’t know why she came back.

(i don’t know why she came back like that.)

i don’t know why she stuck around me.

(i don’t know why she was putting up with me.)

i have no clue why she did all those things.

(i have no clue she was so intent on following my every command.)

it’s not my fault she went too far.

it was her choice to listen to me.

(it was her choice to fall in love with me, and

mine to entertain her dog-like loyalty.)

the parasite tightens her grasp on me, snapping me out of my memory.

her contracting doesn’t stop at my arms. sitting upright at last,

i hack and cough in agony as the air is forced out of my closing throat.

(my stomach swells in pain.

or maybe my womb. i remember her having wanted a child

when we were alive.)

with one final wheeze, i feel myself throwing up right onto

my lap. it’s digusting.

staining my legs with blood, an embryo, completely still like i was,

lies in my lap. i want to assume it was human, but

something in my head promises me it’s a dear lamb. (it’s not the parasite.)

i stare at the poor thing for a few minutes. no sound comes out

besides the screams from other souls and the horrible storms ravaging them.

my arms fall, now in my own control once again. i pick up the baby lamb (if you could even call it that?)

and i sob.

it’s pathetic, really. what i feel for this lamb isn’t even pity. it’s pure sorrow. pure longing.

just as i consumed the girl whole in my life, i’ve consumed this lamb in my death.

i’ve doomed this lamb to an early demise, just as i doomed the one i don’t even have the strength to call

my lover.

as the storms being to fly towards me, i realize this parasite

was not tormenting me at all.

stagnant in the ground, i was in peace. watching tornados run across the circle of lust,

to the chagrin of many, i was entertained.

even as a filthy sinner, i was given a single blessing, a gift from my beloved. my angel.

how could i have done this to myself? how could i be so ungrateful?

my sobbing only intensifies in harmony with everyone else’s as a tornado finally picks me back up.

lamb in my arms, i hold my parasite tightly, like a mother holds her child.

the debris in the sky leaves gashes and bruises all over me, but the embryo stays intact.

this, i conclude, is what i deserve.

for eternity, i will bear the pain for this child, this symbol of love i hold,

to makeup for the pain i allowed my love to bear for me.

the rampant storms will toss my soul, to and fro,

as if i’m simply a ragdoll.

[goddess-aelin]

Little Did I Know

Chapter 10: Late Night Talks Redux

Masterlist | LDIK Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: talk of death/murder

Aelin was miserable. It had been a day since the revelation. That, at least, is what she had taken to calling Rowan’s betrayal. She had left him sitting by the door and hadn’t left her room since.

 On the morning after she kicked Rowan out of her room, Lysandra came to check on her. Or would have come to check on her if she wasn’t stopped by someone in the hall. She couldn’t make out anything as Lysandra was talking to whoever was out there very quietly. She had a good sense of who was still probably sitting on the floor in front of her door. But there was no yelling, no berating. Just soft whispers. It made her anxious. What if she was wrong? She hadn’t even let Rowan explain. But what was there to explain when she had heard him confirm what he knew? Aelin tried to quell the rising anger that was building in her chest. She wished she was well enough to go for a run, to kickbox, anything to allow her to channel the pent up rage she was feeling. But her ribs were still bruised and her head still sore. 

Lysandra announced her presence simply by quietly closing the door and locking it. She sat on Aelin’s bed, enveloping her in her arms. Aelin buried her face in her friend’s shoulder, appreciating the comfort Lysandra offered, her friend’s hand making soothing circles on her back. When they pulled away, Aelin realized that her own cheeks were wet. She hadn’t even realized she had been crying, though it didn’t really surprise her given the events of the past 48 hours. She had so many emotions swirling around her head that it was difficult to pin down even one of them.

Lysandra brushed her sweaty hair from her head. “Girl, you need a shower.” 

At that, Aelin burst out laughing. “Probably true. But at least I have an excuse.”

“How are you feeling by the way?”

“Like I got hit by a train or two.” Aelin contemplated telling her friend the truth. That the bruised ribs and headache were nothing compared to the ache in her heart. “But not physically hit by a train. More like…emotionally.”

“Ah yes, the silver haired elephant in the room.” 

Aelin huffed in annoyance. 

“For what it’s worth, I probably would’ve reacted the same way. Except I would’ve used my teeth to rip out his throat instead of words.” Aelin gave her an incredulous look but Lysandra chose that moment to get serious. “I think you should talk to him, Aelin. Not because I think he’s right or wrong, that’s not my decision to make, it’s yours. But you should talk to him because what you two have is worth more than one possibly misconstrued conversation. I don’t know what you think you heard. I don’t know what he said. But from a third party, I’m telling you that he hasn’t left your door in the past day and hadn’t left your side for a day before that. The way he acted when you were missing were not the actions of someone who wanted or intentionally tried to betray you.”

Lysandra’s words should have made her angry. Should have made her want to kick Rowan’s face in. And yet, she just felt deflated. “And what if I talk to him and I can’t forgive him?”

“Then that’s a bridge you cross when you come to it. But you both owe it to each other to at least talk about it. He owes you an explanation and maybe you owe it to him to listen to it.” 

“And if I want another few days of wallowing in self pity?”

“Then I’ll bring up a bunch of greasy, unhealthy snacks and we can have a movie day. No boys allowed.” 

Aelin snorted. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Yes you do. I’ll always be here for you, Aelin. No matter what. Always remember that.”

“I think I’ll take you up on the offer of a movie day. I might fall asleep but I’ll get my recommended dose of best friend cuddles.” Aelin smiled genuinely at her friend, perhaps the first one in a day. Her heart felt lighter knowing that she had someone in her corner. Yet that someone wasn’t trying to push her like Aedion would. Or force her into doing something like Darrow and the lords. Here, she could just be Aelin for a day.  - - - - -

Aelin was awoken that night by her stomach growling. When was the last time she ate? She couldn’t even answer that question. Lysandra had brought a bunch of snacks up for their movie day where they watched as many stupid, sappy, romance movies as they could. Despite there being snacks, Aelin wasn’t sure that she really took advantage of that fact. She sure as hell wasn’t hungry, her heart still too tender to really enjoy any of the things she usually did. 

The clock on her nightstand read “11:49.” Perfect. It was time for her midnight ice cream snack. No one was around to tell her she couldn’t partake in her once nightly tradition, Lysandra having gone back to her room at some point in the nighttime. 

She hadn’t been down to the kitchens for a midnight snack for a month. Now that she thought of it, the last time was when Rowan had found her and apologized and–. No, she wouldn’t go there. She wasn’t thinking of him. She would only think of the vat of hazelnut ice cream that was awaiting her in the freezer. 

Her shuffling steps were the only sound as the wooden planks of the hallway became the stone tile of the kitchen. As she opened the kitchen door, her sixth sense radiated a warning that she was not alone. And though she knew there was someone in there with her, she knew she wasn’t in danger. Because her sixth sense also happened to be a Rowan sense. And sure enough, there he was, sitting on her windowsill, looking through her window. 

A flash of anger rippled through her. She didn’t want to see him. Not now, maybe not ever. The audacity he had to steal her secret spot. 

She was about to turn to flee when she heard him call her name. 

“Aelin.” His voice sounded as wrecked as she felt. “Please. Please let me explain.” She paused at the pleading in his voice. His voice was barely above a whisper and she had never heard him sound so…fragile. It was all she could do to tightly close her eyes, willing away the rising tears that were threatening to spill over. 

“Please just talk to me.” His voice sounded a little closer so she turned around slowly. He had stood from his perch on the window, not moving closer but still reaching out to her as if he couldn’t help himself. “If you still don’t want to see me after, I’ll respect that. But please.” 

She swallowed hard as she took in his words and as she remembered back to Lysandra’s. She didn’t want to admit it, but her friend might have been right. She owed it to him to listen to an explanation but he also owed it to her to be truthful. And neither of those things would happen if she didn’t give him a chance.

“Okay,” she whispered. 

She made her way to the window seat but her steps were slow as her ribs started to ache again. From the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan watching her like a hawk and even thought he might have tried to step toward her a few times as she slowly took steps toward the seat. But she ignored the help he tried to give and made it there on her own, just as she always had. 

They both sat in silence for a minute, neither knowing what to say. 

“I’m not sure where to start. What…what did you hear yesterday?”

“I already told you what I heard yesterday.” Aelin snapped. “I want you to start from the beginning. The truth. No more lies.”

“I never lied to you.” Aelin scoffed at his words. “I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t.” Aelin stayed silent as Rowan wrung his hands, his nervousness showing for the first time since she’d met him. 

“You already know how I came to be in Terrasen. Maeve basically ordered that I had to enter into a marriage contract with Terrasen’s future queen. I knew about you, of course. But I didn’t really know you. There was nothing I could do except do her bidding. While I may never take the throne of Doranelle, I’m still a prince. And that means that I have to do whatever she says.” From his tone, Aelin knew he did not hold his queen in high regard. She had already known but she wasn’t sure that she ever heard him speak about Maeve with such venom. 

“She was…too eager for me to come here. I can’t remember a time when she was excited to do dealings with another kingdom. Maybe excited isn’t a good word. But she pushed me to leave as soon as possible and was very adamant that I was to do whatever I could to charm you.” 

Aelin snorted. “Yeah, because we got off to the best start.” 

Rowan remained serious. “I started wondering why she was acting like that at that point but brushed it off, thinking she just wanted Doranelle to have an ally. I came here and haven’t heard a word from Maeve since. She didn’t call, didn’t text, and didn’t inform me of anything.” Rowan paused. “But then I started to care for you and we got closer. And I learned about how your parents died and I had some…suspicions. Accidents happen all the time in Doranelle. We were always told it was because those people deserved it, because they had done something wrong. And I’m ashamed to say that I hadn’t questioned it all that much. But your parent’s accident made warning bells go off in my head for some reason. I had no proof and couldn’t back up any claim so I stayed silent. You had enough on your plate so I kept my mouth shut.”

“You don’t think I should’ve known about this?!”

“Aelin, I didn’t want to worry you over something that might not have even been true. I thought maybe I was making it up in my mind, seeing something that wasn’t there. We were already on rocky ground with each other, how would you really have reacted if I told you that I think my queen had something to do with your parent’s death yet had no evidence to back that up?”

Aelin thought for a moment. She probably wouldn’t have believed him, to be honest. Would’ve thought that he was trying to rock the already wavering boat that Terrasen and Doranelle stood on. She gave a small nod for him to continue.

“And then you were taken. I know I said this yesterday but I was going out of my mind. I couldn’t even think straight until I found you safe and sound. And even then, I was more worried about keeping you safe and helping you recover than the implications of what happened. But I did have enough insight to call Lorcan in. He was already around the area anyway and he owed me a favor. So I explained the situation and he looked into everything.”

Rowan’s breathing started to get shaky again. “I wasn’t kidding yesterday when I said he’s the best of the best. He is. He could track a bird across the country if you needed him to. I just wanted him to look into your accident. I didn’t say a word about Maeve or your parents or anything. But while he was digging, he uncovered these things on his own.” 

“What things?” Aelin could feel anxiety rising in her gut. 

Rowan paused and she allowed him to gently take her hands. “Lorcan didn’t find any connection to Maeve and your accident. She either was really good at covering up her tracks or she had nothing to do with it. But he did find evidence that pointed to her hiring the person who killed your parents and uncle. I’m sorry, Aelin.” 

The silence was overwhelming. There was a ringing in Aelin’s head. Maeve….had her parents killed. Was still possibly trying to kill her, though there was no evidence. The sobs started slowly, gently, and then picked up when her emotions got to be too much. She felt Rowan’s warm arms embracing her and pulling her into his lap gently, so not as to hurt her bruised ribs. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Rowan gently rocked her while her sobs turned to small whimpers. He was running a soothing hand over her back and had her scooped into his chest in a comforting cocoon. She could feel his own tears dripping into her hair. 

Eventually, she stopped crying enough to look up at him. “I’m sorry.” She buried her face into the crook of his neck. “I’m so, so sorry, Rowan.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Fireheart.” 

“I didn’t even let you explain last night and I was so horrible to you.” 

“It’s already forgiven. Not that there’s anything to forgive. I’m sorry that you had to find out the way you did. I wanted to tell you but I wanted to let you rest and recover first. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” It was Rowan’s turn to bury his face into her hair, pressing firm kisses to the top of her head. “I never want to hurt you. Ever.”

 From her position in his arms, she twisted so she could wrap her arms around his neck tightly. He returned the hug in earnest, making her feel safe with such a simple gesture.

After a while, they returned to their positions on the window seat, though not going far enough to create any measurable space. He continued to gently hold her hands, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them. Aelin couldn’t help but wonder, “What now?”

“Well, Lorcan went back to Doranelle this morning. He’s presenting the evidence to my uncle Ellys and my cousin Sellene, who is next in line for the throne. If it all goes according to plan, Maeve will be ousted and we won’t have to worry about that threat anymore. She’ll get what’s coming to her, I promise you, Fireheart.”

A small smile crossed her face at the mention of the nickname. She whispered back, “Fireheart.”

Rowan squeezed her hands, curious. 

“How did you come up with that nickname for me?”

“I’m not sure. I just think fireheart is the best way to describe you. You’re fierce and wild and unyielding like flames.” A smile crossed Rowan’s face. “But you have the biggest heart of anyone I know and you would burn everything for those you love. Fire heart.” Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Do you not want me to call you that? I can–”

She cut him off with a kiss to the cheek and offered a small smile. “No, I like it. I just haven’t heard that nickname in a while. My parents used to call me that.” 

He once again brought her hands to his lips, placing gentle pecks on the backs of them. “Well then, Fireheart, let’s get you the ice cream that I’m sure you came down here for and then get you back to bed, yeah?” 

Aelin chuckled, happy that they were once again back to an easy camaraderie .

Rowan did exactly as he said he would. He brought her the container of Hazelnut ice cream, both of them sharing it until they felt as if they were going to puke. Which for Rowan was not much since he had a particular distaste for sweets. They settled into a companionable silence, both sharing a few shy glances and smiles toward one another. Aelin couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly, had changed. But something had. Their relationship felt stronger, more sturdy. More…full.

Afterward, Rowan walked her back to her room like the gentleman he was. She could tell he hesitated, not wanting to leave her alone. She told herself it was for his own well being that she did what happened next. She grabbed his hand, “Stay with me tonight.” 

“Aelin–”

“No. No Aelin’s. I’m calling in the favor you owe me from winning our sparring match the other day. Stay with me. Just for tonight.” And before he could protest more, she added a whispered, “Please.”

Rowan gave in rather easily for all his earlier jests of preserving her virtue. She gently pulled him into her room, divesting herself of her robe and slippers before burrowing under the heavy covers. Rowan did the same on the opposite side, choosing to wear only his soft trousers to bed. Aelin tried not to stare at his muscled chest as he raised the covers but it was a bit difficult. She told herself it was simply because she was ice cream drunk and tired. But that lie fell flat, even to herself.

Rowan turned toward her and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His hand slithered down to her arm and grabbed her hand, pulling her slightly closer to him. 

“Goodnight, Fireheart.”

“Goodnight, Buzzard.” 

She was sure the picture of Rowan smiling as he closed his eyes would be gracing her dreams for nights to come.

A/N: See, that angst didn't last too long! It wouldn't have at least if I had gotten this chapter out earlier and not 3 weeks later oops. We only have 3 more chapters and then an epilogue, that's it! Hope you guys are enjoying! As always let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list :)

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