#some of them have very faint streaks too

[vodid]

the pain of printing 20 stickers incorrectly (left)

[novaursa]

Where Banners Fall

- Summary: After your fall at Rook’s Rest, Gwayne takes you to safety and some hidden things come to light.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaenyra's sister and bonded with Silverwing. This part continues just after The Flames We Carry. For all parts done in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

-Rating: Mild 13+

- Word count: 3 320

- A/N: Yeah, this one was not ment to come out today either, but you all liked the last part very much, so, here is the continuation of it. Enjoy! ❤️

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The moon casts its pale light through the dense trees, illuminating the night in a silvery glow. The wind is cold, biting through layers of bloodied cloth, as Gwayne Hightower clutches the reins with one hand and his side with the other. His breath comes ragged, each inhalation a struggle as the gash Cole delivered sends jolts of fire down his side. But none of it matters, not when your life is in his hands. 

You lie slumped against his chest, your skin far too pale, and your breaths shallow, rattling with a sound that tears at his heart. Blood streaks your face, staining your lips, a crimson trail leaking from your nose. The fall from Silverwing... gods, he can still hear the roar of dragons and the sickening crunch of bones as you hit the ground. He couldn't—wouldn’t—leave you there, even if it meant betraying everything he'd ever known.

He halts the horse in the shadow of a large oak tree and dismounts with a groan, one arm wrapped protectively around his wounded side. The pain lances through him, nearly buckling his legs, but he grits his teeth and turns to you, his gaze softening despite the turmoil raging within.

"Y/N," he whispers, barely able to speak your name without his voice cracking. Carefully, he lifts you from the saddle, feeling your weight crumple against him, your head lolling against his shoulder. His fingers tremble as he lays you down gently on the mossy ground. You are so still, too still. 

He kneels beside you, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. "Open your eyes. Just... look at me, Y/N." His voice is hoarse, almost pleading. His hands, stained with blood—your blood, his blood—ghost over your cheeks, checking for any signs of life. 

Your eyelids flutter, and a soft moan escapes your lips, causing his heart to lurch with both relief and anguish. "Gwayne?" you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper. Each word seems to sap what little strength you have left.

"I'm here. I won’t leave you, I promise," he assures you, his voice steady though it takes everything in him to keep it that way. He cups your face in his hand, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You're safe now."

Tears prick his eyes as he sees the pain etched across your features. It’s a stark reminder that you’re not just his princess, the sister of Rhaenyra, daughter of Viserys—you’re the woman who’s owned his heart for years, even if it was a tragic love and often denied.

"You shouldn’t have come back for me," you rasp, your breath hitching in pain. "They’ll kill you…"

"Let them," Gwayne says with a fierce intensity, voice raw with emotion. "If it meant keeping you alive, I’d suffer any fate they decide." He swallows, lowering his head so his forehead rests against yours. "But I couldn’t let you die back there. Not you."

Your eyes fill with tears, but your smile is faint and tinged with regret. "Foolish knight. Always so stubborn."

He chuckles softly, though the sound is strained. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve finally done something right, if it means keeping you with me just a little longer."

You cough weakly, and the sound sends a fresh surge of panic through him. Blood dribbles from the corner of your mouth, and his heart twists at the sight. Desperation claws at him, urging him to do something, anything to ease your suffering, but he knows there’s little he can do out here in the wilderness with no healer, no herbs, nothing but his own two hands.

"I need to make camp," he says gently, brushing his thumb across your cheek one last time before he stands. "We’ll rest here. I’ll tend to you as best I can."

You try to protest, your voice faint. "You’re injured too… I can see the blood. You’ll bleed out if you—"

"Shh." His tone is soft but firm, silencing your concern. "You’re more important to me than any wound I bear." 

He gathers what little strength he has left and begins preparing a makeshift camp, struggling to keep his movements swift despite the burning pain in his side. He lights a small fire, the flickering flames casting shadows over your pale features. Every time he glances at you, his chest tightens with fear that he’ll lose you before the dawn.

Finally, when he’s done, he returns to your side, wrapping his cloak around your trembling form. He cradles you gently in his lap, pressing you close to share what warmth he can offer.

You turn your head weakly to look at him, tears brimming in your eyes. "Gwayne… if I don’t—"

"No," he interrupts, his voice sharp, as if the very idea of you leaving him is unbearable. "You’ll live, Y/N. We’ve both been through too much for it to end here."

There’s a long silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the distant sound of night creatures. You rest your head against his chest, finding comfort in the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the layers of armor and cloth. Despite everything, the world seems a little less terrifying with him holding you like this.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, your fingers curling weakly against his tunic. "For saving me… for staying."

"Always," he whispers, tightening his hold on you, as if afraid you’ll slip away. "For you, I would defy the world."

His words are heavy with truth. He betrayed Cole, risked everything—his loyalty, his honor, his House—because nothing mattered more than you. As he watches your eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion, he swears to himself that he’ll see you through this, no matter the cost.

The night wears on, and as the fire crackles and the stars glimmer overhead, he keeps vigil, his thoughts solely on you. In the stillness of the night, there is only the two of you, bound by fate, by the shared loss and love that lingers unspoken between every touch, every look.

And as sleep finally claims you, Gwayne brushes a tender kiss to your brow, whispering the words he’s held back for far too long.

"I love you, Y/N."

The admission hangs in the air, soft and fragile like a promise yet to be fulfilled. But as the night deepens, with you in his arms and the world beyond fading into the distance, it is a vow he clings to with all his heart.

The first rays of dawn filter through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled patterns of golden light over your face. The chill of the night still lingers in the air, but warmth gradually spreads as the sun climbs higher. Gwayne Hightower stirs awake, the dull ache in his side reminding him of the wound that still bleeds sluggishly beneath layers of makeshift bandages. But the pain is forgotten the moment he notices your chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. You’re alive. You’re breathing.

For a fleeting moment, all his worries and fears dissolve as he watches you. Your skin is still too pale, your breathing shallow, but your lips are no longer tinged with the blue pallor of death. When your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused at first, he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Gwayne?” Your voice is soft, laced with confusion and pain, but it’s enough to make his heart soar.

“I’m here.” He shifts closer, gently brushing his hand over your forehead, smoothing away a few stray strands of hair. His touch is tender, reassuring, but there’s an edge of desperation to it, as if touching you is the only way he can convince himself you’re still with him. “You’re safe.”

You close your eyes briefly, a tear slipping down your cheek as you whisper, “Silverwing… she’s gone, isn’t she?”

Gwayne’s throat tightens, and he struggles to find the words. He knows how deep the bond is between a rider and their dragon, knows how it must feel like losing a piece of your soul. “She saved you, Y/N. She fought until the very end to protect you.”

A sob escapes your lips, but it’s weak, more of a trembling breath than anything. You turn your face into his chest, seeking solace in his embrace. “She was everything to me. I felt her… I felt her fear when they descended on us. She tried, Gwayne… she tried so hard.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you grieve. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “She was brave, just like you.”

For a long moment, he just holds you, letting the silence settle between you, broken only by the faint sounds of the waking forest. His thoughts, however, race. He knows they can’t stay here. His nephews’ banners surround them from every side, and it’s only a matter of time before scouts or patrols find them. He can’t risk it, not with you in this condition.

“We need to get you to Dragonstone,” he finally says, his voice low but determined. “To Rhaenyra. She’ll know how to keep you safe.”

You nod faintly against his chest, but your eyes are distant, as if lost in some faraway memory. “Dragonstone… where our son is.”

The words come so softly that at first, Gwayne thinks he’s misheard. His heart stutters, the blood draining from his face as he pulls back slightly to look at you. “What did you say?”

You blink slowly, your eyes glazed with exhaustion and pain, but there’s a haunted look in them now. “Our son… I can’t… I can’t lose him too.”

The world tilts beneath Gwayne’s feet. He stares at you, trying to make sense of what you’ve just said. “Y/N… what do you mean, our son?”

You swallow, the effort seeming to drain you. “He’s ours, Gwayne. He… he was born after… after everything. After Daemon took me.”

His chest tightens, shock mingling with something deeper, more painful. He had always known you were taken by Daemon, given to him as part of the political machinations he could never fully understand years ago. It was a decision that had shattered him at the time, but hearing this now—knowing you bore his child in secret—rips at old wounds, laying them bare.

“A son…” The words are a whisper, disbelief and awe warring in his voice. “You kept him hidden from me?”

Tears brim in your eyes again, your voice breaking. “I had no choice. Daemon… he knew the child wasn’t his. He claimed him, raised him as his own, but he’s ours, Gwayne. He’s our flesh and blood.”

Gwayne’s heart pounds in his chest, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within him—anger, sorrow, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of loss. “All this time… I never knew.”

“I wanted to tell you, but it was too dangerous,” you confess, your voice trembling. “I thought… I thought it was better if you didn’t know. To keep you safe from Daemon’s wrath.”

Gwayne’s world narrows to this moment, to the truth of a child he never knew he had, one who’s been raised by a man who has always been his rival in more ways than one. The thought of Daemon laying claim to something so precious to him—it ignites a rage deep in his chest, but it’s tempered by the sheer anguish on your face.

He tightens his grip on you, pulling you into him as if holding you closer will somehow mend the broken pieces of the life you might have had together. “We’ll get him back,” he vows, voice low and fierce. “You and I—we’ll go to Dragonstone. To your sister. To our son. I won’t let Daemon keep what’s ours.” 

The thought makes his blood run cold, but for you, he’d face even that man.

You look up at him, your gaze searching his, and for a moment, you’re not the princess caught in the bloody web of war and dragons—you’re just a woman looking at the man you love, hoping against hope that he can keep the promise he’s just made. “I’ve missed him so much,” you whisper. “And I’ve missed you.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, he allows himself to hold you as if you’re the only thing that matters. “I’m here now,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there. “And I’m not going anywhere without you. We’ll get through this.”

The resolve in his words steadies the both of you. There’s a long road ahead, fraught with dangers and uncertainties, but he knows with unwavering certainty that he won’t let anything tear you away from him again—not the war, not his family’s betrayal, and not even Daemon’s machinations.

You’ve lost so much—your dragon, your freedom, your soul—but in this moment, you find a glimmer of hope in the man who’s risked everything for you. And as the morning sun rises, casting light on the uncertain path ahead, you cling to that hope, knowing that Gwayne will do whatever it takes to bring you home—to your sister, to your son, and to the life you both deserve.

Together, you’ll reclaim what’s been taken. And together, you’ll face whatever comes next.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves on uneven ground fills the tense silence between you and Gwayne as he guides the horse deeper into the wilderness. Morning light filters through the trees in shifting patterns, but it does little to ease the weight pressing on Gwayne’s chest. His mind churns, cycling through the revelation you just laid bare—a son. His son. Every heartbeat seems to echo with the implications, each thump a reminder of the child who was taken from him, raised by a man Gwayne both loathes and fears.

He clenches the reins tighter, trying to steady his thoughts as they race uncontrollably. A son. His thoughts circle back to it, gnawing at him like an itch he can’t scratch. What is the boy like? What does he look like? The questions burn in his throat, but the uncertainty of what comes next gnaws at him even more. Daemon, he thinks bitterly, the name sour on his tongue. The prince’s shadow looms over everything now, twisting this newfound truth into something almost unbearable.

But he can’t afford to let his emotions take control. Not now. You’re still weak, clinging to consciousness by a thread. The ride is perilous, the terrain rough, and every jolt of the horse draws a faint whimper from your lips. Each sound slices through him like a blade, a reminder that you’re slipping further away with every mile. His instinct is to press forward, to ride hard and fast to the nearest settlement that might offer help, but every harsh movement risks worsening your condition.

He takes a deep breath and glances down at you, leaning back against his chest, your eyes half-lidded in a haze of pain. "Y/N," he calls gently, hoping to draw you back to him, even if only for a few moments. "Stay with me. I need you to stay with me."

You stir slightly, your eyelids fluttering as you try to focus. Your breaths are labored, each one a struggle, but the sound of his voice seems to anchor you in the present.

"I’m here," you whisper, though your voice is faint and distant, almost as if you’re speaking from another world. "Just… so tired."

Gwayne swallows the lump in his throat, trying to push through the fear gnawing at him. He needs answers, needs to understand what you’ve been through, what he’s been through, if he’s going to piece together a plan that might save you both. "You spoke of our son… before," he says carefully, his voice low, as if afraid to disturb the fragile balance of reality. "Tell me about him, Y/N. I need to know."

Your gaze drifts upward, unfocused, as if you’re looking at something beyond his reach. A faint smile tugs at your lips, though it’s tinged with sadness. "He’s beautiful," you murmur, voice trembling with emotion. "He has your eyes… that same spark. But he’s stubborn, too. So stubborn, just like his father."

Gwayne’s heart clenches at the thought. He can almost see it—an image of a child with your grace and his determination, laughing with that carefree joy only children possess. But there’s a shadow over the image, a darkness that steals the warmth from it.

"He doesn’t know who I am, does he?" Gwayne asks, though he already suspects the answer.

You shake your head weakly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He thinks… he thinks Daemon is his father. That’s all he’s known." Your voice wavers, cracking under the weight of the truth. "It was the only way to keep him safe. The only way to protect him while the world tore itself apart."

Gwayne’s jaw tightens, a surge of anger rushing through him, not at you but at the situation, at the cruelty of a world that forced such a choice upon you. "Daemon," he says bitterly, the name dripping with resentment. "He took everything from me. He even took him—our son—and you."

You turn your head slightly, struggling to focus on him, your expression full of regret. "He did it to protect him, Gwayne. As much as I hate it, I can’t deny that. In a world like this, with war tearing us all apart, who else could raise him? Who else could keep him alive?"

Gwayne’s throat tightens, the fury and sorrow tangling together in a knot that’s hard to unravel. He wants to argue, to curse Daemon’s name, but deep down, a small part of him knows you’re right. That’s what stings the most. Daemon was the one with power, the one who could shield the child from the dangers that lurked on all sides, even if it meant poisoning the boy’s mind against the truth of who he really is.

But he’s not ready to accept it. Not yet. Not when there’s still a chance to change things, to reclaim what’s his.

"I’ll find a way," he vows, more to himself than to you. "I’ll get him back, Y/N. I’ll make sure he knows who his true father is."

You smile weakly, though your eyes are growing heavier, the strain of staying conscious taking its toll. "You always were driven, my love," you murmur, voice fading. "Just… don’t lose yourself in anger. Our son deserves better than that."

Before he can respond, your eyes close again, and your body goes limp against him. Panic seizes him for a moment, but he quickly checks your pulse, relieved to feel the faint but steady beat beneath your skin. You’re slipping back into delirium, but you’re still alive. That’s all that matters now.

He looks ahead, squinting at the road as he spots the faint outlines of a small village in the distance—a neutral settlement, one of the few places where banners don’t fly for either side. It’s a place to rest, to gather supplies, and perhaps even to find someone who can tend to your wounds. But it’s not without risk. Enemies could be lurking anywhere, and he knows he can’t let his guard down.

As he rides toward the village, Gwayne’s thoughts swirl with plans and possibilities. He needs to get you to Dragonstone, needs to confront the truths that have been hidden for so long. But more than that, he needs to find a way to reunite with the son he never knew, the son who now lies in Daemon’s grasp.

And as the horse plods steadily forward, the determination in his heart hardens into something unbreakable. He will see this through, no matter what it costs. Because even in the face of betrayal, war, and loss, there’s something worth fighting for—a future that’s still within reach.

And he won’t let anyone—not even Daemon—take that from him.

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter One: A Sleepless Sovereign

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 3.3k

⛧Summary: As Lucifer's advisor you are required to assist him with a number of things. That includes his schedule, many chores, and the occasional middle of the night panic attack.

⛧Notes: This is my first Hazbin Hotel fic! I hope you all like it because Alastor is my next victim. I just want to give poor Luci some love, he is such a cutie and he's been through enough! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and we love her for that.

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The sun rises and a soft glow illuminates the kitchen. Faint streaks of dawn get brighter as time goes by, the sky is painted with hues of pink and gold. Every day you wake before him and make his coffee. It was a morning ritual you’ve come to enjoy. The silence allowed you time to think and plan your day. As you fill a cup full of coffee, the smell permeates the air.

You carefully take the cup upstairs on a tray and down a long hallway. The air hummed with a faint scent of luxury. It's grandiose and extravagant manor, with gold trim in the hallway. Apples and angelic wings decorate the molding. Your footsteps echo against the marble floors until you stop at the large double doors. You open the right side of the door quietly. The room is dark, some light peeked through the window, but the long velvet curtains block out most of it.

He's so peaceful, lying there, the silk sheets covering his midsection leave little to the imagination. His messy blonde hair and soft face has always made your heart skip a beat. Soft snores escape his lips, you almost feel bad for waking him up while he’s in such a state.  

“Your majesty?” You finally speak. The King stirs and covers his face with his hands. He lets out a small groan in response.

*It's time to get up, sir.” You say as Lucifer slowly and reluctantly sits up. You hand him his coffee with a smile, he looks up at you with drowsy eyes. 

“Thank you, y/n.” He replied, taking a sip of the warm and bitter drink.  

You start to stroll around his room, picking up clothes that have been tossed and putting them in the laundry basket. Lucifer watches as you pick up his messy room, sipping his coffee occasionally. 

“You don't have to do all that y’know.” Lucifer says, feeling a little guilty about his disorganization. 

“Oh but I do, sir.” You said with a straight face. 

“Y/N, I don't know what I would do without you.” He admits with a soft chuckle. 

You smile, your face turns a little pink but it's hard to tell with the lights off. You walk over to the curtains and draw them open. Lucifer doesn't look too pleased with how bright it is. You walk over to his wardrobe and shuffle through the many different articles of clothing until you find his white suit with red accents. 

“Your daughter called, there are documents you need to look over and you have a meeting this afternoon.” You remind him as you place his clothes on the corner of his large bed.

“Can I just go back to sleep?” Lucifer pleads with you and you let out a small sigh.

“Every day you ask me the same question and every day I tell you the same answer…”

“So that's a no…?” He chuckles softly.

That is correct, your majesty.” You roll your eyes as you leave him to get dressed for the day. 

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

The relationship between you two has always been a little strange. You were hired many years ago as a maid for his estate. But after a small while grew to be his right hand, now you’re titled as his “advisor”. You take your job very seriously, everyday you make his coffee, bring him his meals, complete household chores, chauffeur him around, you even attend his meetings for him occasionally. Your entire life is devoted to your King, you felt it was a respectable title. You've worked hard to get to this point, and recognize the power that comes with that. After many years of proving yourself, Hell sees you as an extension of the royal family.

Lucifer had quite a soft spot for you, he offered you a room in his home so you can do your job without the bothersome commute. He pays you well and allows you access to many of his personal assets. The free room and board, along with never having to cook for yourself made it all worth it.

After some time you developed some feelings for him, but you would never admit that. You’re not up to that societal standard. You’ve always told yourself he could have anyone he wanted, which is true. The King of Hell was dashing and charming, but also extremely powerful. Despite all that he doesn't seem to fraternize with anyone, ever since Lilith left, it’s like he's lost that part of himself.

It was time for you to get yourself a cup of coffee and bring his breakfast to the dining hall. After finishing your task you sit down at the dining table and enjoy your coffee. Not long after, Lucifer emerges, dressed, but still looking rather fatigued.

“Did you not sleep well, sir?” You ask and bring your cup to your lips.

“No, I was tossing and turning all night.” He grumbles, the dark bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway.

“Hmm…you’ve been doing that quite a bit more often than usual.” You remark.

“I know! What is up with that? It's ridiculous.” The king says with a huff.

“Ridiculous indeed, sir.”

Lucifer called Charlie on his cellphone, and talked about the Hotel she was running. Charlie says he is due for a visit so you make a mental note to schedule that later. Your mind wanders as he talks on the phone while eating various fruits. The last time Lucifer wasn’t sleeping well he was having nightmares. You remember one awful night in particular, you were up late finishing some paperwork for him when suddenly you hear a scream coming from his room. You rush in and he's curled up in a ball, sobbing. You immediately crawl into his bed to comfort him, he laid his head in your lap and you played with his blonde hair until he fell back to sleep.  

“Y/N…?” Lucifer says and tilts his head slightly. Looks like he finished his phone call while you were lost in thought. You shake yourself from your memories, a pink tint spreads across your face.

“Yes?”

“Something on your mind, my dear?” He asks with a look of concern on his face. 

“No sir, it's nothing.” You assure him. Neither of you have spoken of that night since.

You continue to drink your coffee, Lucifer gives you a skeptical look and continues his breakfast. The day was a very average day. After breakfast Lucifer went to his study to read over some documents and sign a few things. You took his almost empty plate and cup to the kitchen and placed it in the sink for the staff to deal with. You text Charlie with a list of dates to choose from to schedule a visit, reassuring her that you’ll make it happen.

Next is time to clean Lucifer’s room. It's not disgusting by any means, more like cluttered. He tosses stuff on the floor absentmindedly and you always end up tidying the place at some point. Besides, you are the only one allowed in his room, who else is going to do it?

You collect all the empty liquor glasses and place them on a silver tray along with the empty decanter. Making his bed was rather difficult due to it being so large, but you manage like you always do. You tidy up his bathroom, finding more clothes tossed on the floor, you put them in the laundry hamper as well. You leave his room with the silver tray and take it to the kitchen. The staff fill the decanter and give you clean crystal glasses. You return to his room and set the tray on his desk. After that, you take the basket of clothes to the laundry room.

Before you know it, the clock strikes one and you make your way to Lucifer's study. You open the door softly and enter, you set down a small tray with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies on his desk. He picks up the cup and takes a sip, the tea is exactly how he likes it.

“Are you here to tell me I have to attend another one of those annoying meetings?” Lucifer asks in a slightly irritable tone. He spins the chair around to face you, his yellow eyes fixate on yours.

“I’m afraid so, your majesty.” You reply. Lucifer groans and slumps back in his chair. Sometimes he can be a little childish, you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Y/N, I can’t sit through another one of those meetings. I will literally wilt away into nothing.” Lucifer says, he turns to face you and takes your hand in his. He softly squeezes it, your face turns a little pink as you look down and meet his begging eyes with yours.

“Can you go instead? Pretty please?” You can never resist those eyes and he knows it. Your face softens and you squeeze his hand back.

“Okay, but don't make this a habit.” You say you let go of his hand. Still trying to retain some sort of professionalism.

“Thanks doll, I owe you one.” He says with a warm smile, the same smile that makes your heart skip a beat every single time. You bow and leave him to his work, once you get behind closed doors you let out a long sigh, you truly don't want to attend this meeting either. But it can’t be helped, the show must go on.

You grab your overcoat, cellphone, keys, and meet the driver out front. It didn't take long to arrive at Carmilla’s manor. You have been asked to attend a meeting with the overlords and report back to Lucifer. The guards led you through the manor to a large meeting room, you open the door and it seems everyone is in attendance.

The V’s, Zestial, Alastor, Rosie, Zeezi and Ms Carmilla Carmine herself. You take the empty seat next to Zestial.

“My my, I didn't think Lucifer would send his pet, but Miss Carmine, I thought there was a No Dogs Allowed sign out front?” Alastor immediately starts with the catty behavior. You don't have time for any of this, you need to be home soon to serve supper.

"Your words are like a bad song on repeat. Spare us." You retort with your arms folded. The Radio Demon gives you a sinister stare and you roll your eyes at his half baked attempt at scaring you.

“Please, can we start this stupid meeting? I have somewhere to be.” Velvet says looking at her phone, not paying much attention to anything else. Vox agrees with her and Carmilla begins to speak on various topics.

The meeting felt like it ran longer than expected, it was concerning how we move forward now that exterminations are no longer an issue. They spoke of which towns were hit the hardest by the attack, what kind of ongoing plans they have and how to proceed with caution, for we do not trust the Angels and their hidden intentions. After a while, the conversations started to devolve into personal ones.

“Lucifer will be assisting the Pride Ring as best he can, any requests for aid on his part can go through me for approval. Trust that they will be hand delivered to him in person. The King wants nothing more to provide relief for his people.” Was the last thing you said before getting up and excusing yourself from the meeting, politely.

When you make it back to the car, you let out a sigh of relief. It's finally over, time to head back to the manor. When you returned it was already late into the afternoon. You hang up your coat and head to the kitchen, you pour Lucifer a small glass full of whiskey and ice. Before you put the bottle back in its place you take a quick swig, that meeting was just agonizing. You needed something to take the edge off.

You walk to the study with the glass on a silver tray, as you open the door, she sees Lucifer in his chair, reading.

“Good afternoon, your majesty.” You greet him with a smile and a short bow.

“Ah good, you’re back. How was the meeting?” He asks, genuinely curious. 

“It was…interesting, to say the least.” You reply while handing him the glass. “I can see why you did not want to attend.”

“They are so insufferable, right?” He says and takes a sip. 

“Indeed, sir.” You don't wish to mention Alastor’s comment from earlier, the last thing you need to do is give him something to be cross about.

“Dinner will be ready soon. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” You ask politely.

“Oh no, you always do so much. Thank you Y/N.” Lucifer takes another sip of his whiskey.

You dismiss yourself and head down to the kitchen to help prepare dinner for yourself and Lucifer.

Lucifer spins around in his chair and takes a sip of the drink you left him with. He’s trying to hide it but he’s absolutely exhausted. Lately when he’s tried to sleep, memories flood his mind like ghosts of the past. The absence of warmth beside him was a void he could not fill. When he will be free from the torment, he is unsure. But every day he wakes up and there you are, right beside him as always. He knows you try to put off a cold exterior, you’re the king's guard dog after all. You were always one to never indulge your secrets but he knew a few things about you that no one else did.

The night you held him in your lap it looked as though he had fallen asleep. While you carded your fingers through his hair you whispered “I wish you knew how remarkable I think you are.” He heard you loud and clear. The King always had a space in his heart dedicated to you, but you’re his advisor, consultant, and au pair. How would the world see you both as a couple? It was certainly something that would be looked down upon by most. A bell rings and pulls him from his thoughts, dinner is ready.

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

He sits in his usual spot and you always sit on his right side. Dinner was a mix of high grade meats and vegetables. You cut into your food and display proper table manners, Lucifer sneaks glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“I scheduled a time for you to visit your daughter's hotel this Thursday.” You remark and Lucifer nods with food in his mouth.

“Good, I’ve been meaning to visit, I’ve just been so tired lately, and If I’m not tired I’m busy.”

“You need some proper rest, sir.” You state the obvious. You wish there was something else you could do to assist him with this.

“Trust me, if I had the choice I’d be asleep right now, my dear.” He takes another bite, his face looks a little forlorn. Usually you would keep to yourself unless Lucifer would outright say something is wrong, but this is different.

“Is there something wrong, sir?”

“No, it's nothing, Y/N. I’m just tired, I swear.” He says, trying to brush off any depressive feelings. You give him a bit of side eye but decide to let it go. But deep down you knew something was troubling him. It was just a matter of if and when he will tell you. You both continue eating, he tells you about the book he's reading in hopes to clear the melancholy vibe in the room. You sit and listen to him ramble on like any other normal day.

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

It was getting late, Lucifer was in his room, drink in hand. Outside, the world slumbered beneath a blanket of stars, oblivious to his pain. With the window open he seeks solace in the cold night air. But the chill only served to remind him of the emptiness inside. He downs the rest of his drinks and sets it on the nightstand. He crawls under the covers and closes his eyes and wraps his arms around himself as he tries to get some rest.

But all he could see is her, walking away, leaving him heartbroken and devastated. A single tear falls down his cheek. He buries his face in the pillow and tries to forget these memories, good and bad. The minutes pass like fleeting shadows, and Lucifer finally starts to fall asleep. But not long after he wakes up in a cold sweat with a scream. His chest heaves and he feels like he can’t breathe, he looks down at his shaking hands.

You were doing your rounds in your silk pajamas, locking doors and shutting windows. You said goodnight to the kitchen staff and headed upstairs. Then suddenly you hear a loud scream come from Lucifer's bedroom, you immediately rush up the stairs to the door and open it.

He’s sitting upright in his bed, knees against his chest, holding his face in his hands. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he recalls the haunting memories. You don't say anything, you quickly sit beside him and place your hand on his back. He immediately pulls you in for a hug, you’re surprised at first but you hug him back. He buries his face in your shoulder, letting out soft muffled sobs. 

“Shhhh…it's going to be okay…I’m here…I’ve got you.” You whisper soft words of reassurance in his ear, he just hugs you tighter.

“I’m so sorry…” He says between sniffles and you start to gently rub his back. You wished there was a way to stop him from feeling so miserable, but all you can do is sit and comfort him for as long as he needs. In the safety of your arms, the remnants of the dream began to dissipate. Your familiar voice and smell provided a soothing counterpoint to the chaos of his mind.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my dear.” You say as you pet the back of his head, his face finally emerges from your shoulder and meets your gaze. You gently wipe away any stray tears with your thumb and give him a soft smile. “Tough times don’t last, tough people do, and you’re one of the strongest people I know.” You say just barely above a whisper. 

A small smile appears on his face and you brush away a few stray hairs, glad that your king is feeling a little better. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel more at ease?”

“I do have one request…But I’m not sure how you’re gonna feel about it.” He says, while looking away, he’s definitely embarrassed by his own question.

“Try me.” You reply, it can’t be that bad, he’s never asked you to do anything you’re not okay with.

“I would really appreciate it if I didn't have to sleep alone tonight…” He finally asks, he blushes a little, unsure if that's even okay to ask. You can't help but also turn a little red, this is absolutely not allowed, but maybe the rules have exceptions in times of crisis.

“Yeah…I can do that.” You agree.

Lucifer’s golden eyes widen and he perks up a bit. “R-Really?”

“Yes, really.” You chuckle softly.

Lucifer crawls back under the covers and opens his arms for you to join him. You crawl over to him and settle in, his arms wrap around you and you lace your fingers with his hand, allowing him to spoon you. His body heat and the chill night air was the perfect combination to lull you to sleep.

“Goodnight Luci~” You say before sleep starts to drag you away from this world. A nickname you lovingly use very rarely. He nuzzles your shoulder and drifts off rather quickly with nothing but a content smile on his face. When you two will admit your feelings for each other is a mystery, but for now, you’re happy just to be his biggest support system. If there's one thing you’ve learned living with Lucifer, it's that devotion in any form, is love with wings.

[playnextdoor]

im sick

summary: vi helps you when your sick

cw: mentions and descriptions of throw/throwing up for my emetophobes, mentions of food that caused said sickeness lol, domestic (?) vi, she is very sweet yay, this is very short

You jolt awake, drenched in sweat, the taste of bile pooling in your mouth. For a moment, everything feels blurry until the sudden urgency hits you. You barely notice Vi sprawled out beside you as you clumsily crawl over her and bolt for the bathroom. The commotion stirs her instantly.

“Hey—wait, what’s wrong?” she calls out groggily, already moving to follow you.

By the time she reaches the bathroom, you’re hunched over the toilet, your hands gripping the porcelain as your body convulses. The sound of you retching echoes off the tiles.

“Shit,” Vi mutters, panic lacing her voice as she turns and rushes out of the room. She’s back in seconds with a towel and a glass of water, setting them on the counter before kneeling beside you. Her calloused hands are gentle as they push stray hairs away from your damp face. “Let it out, babe,” she murmurs, her other hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “You’re okay. Just let it out.”

Your body heaves one last time before the sickness leaves. Gasping for air, you shakily reach for her hand. She’s already there, steady and solid, helping you stand. Without a word, she dampens the towel and gently wipes your face, her touch so careful.

“I think it was that burger we had earlier,” you croak, wincing as you rinse your mouth out at the sink.

Vi watches you closely, her brows furrowed with concern. “Yeah… probably. You’ve been off all day.” Her voice is quieter now, as though speaking too loud might overwhelm you.

You stare into the mirror, water dripping down your face. Tiny red dots bloom under your eyes, blood vessels burst from the force of throwing up, a grim reminder of how your body puts so much force in this thing you would avoid any day.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” you whisper, voice shaky.

She shakes her head, stepping closer. “Don’t apologize. Drink some water.” Her hand cups your damp face as she raises the glass to your lips, her thumb brushing over the faint red freckles on your cheek. She watches you drink slowly, watches you wince as the bitter aftertaste of bile fades under the coolness of the water.

“I know you hate throwing up,” she says softly, her eyes never leaving yours.

You nod, managing a weak smile before your stomach churns again. “Too soon,” you mutter, and before you can stop yourself, you’re back at the toilet.

Vi is there in an instant, one arm wrapping around you to keep you steady as the other supports your weight. “it’s okay,” she whispers, even as your body shakes violently. “I got you.”

When it’s finally over, you slump against her, tears and snot streaking down your face. You’re a mess, and you know it. You hate when she sees you like this.

“I should’ve warned you…” you mumble through ragged breaths.

“Hey, stop that,” she cuts in, her voice firm but kind. She helps you to your feet again, guiding you back to the sink to rinse your mouth before coaxing more water down your throat. This time, she waits, watching you carefully to make sure you’re not about to hurl again.

When you finally make it back to bed, you collapse into the sheets, still trembling. “Stay with me,” you whisper, the words soft and desperate.

She grins, trying to lighten the mood. “Like I’d go anywhere.”

Before you can reply, she’s yanking the thick blanket from beneath you and tucking it snugly around your body, cocooning you in a makeshift burrito. Your head and feet poke out from the folds, and you pout up at her as she adjusts the edges.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she teases, pulling out a warm compress and placing it gently on your forehead. “You need to rest.”

“But I want to kiss you,” you whisper, your lips curling into a weak pout.

Vi smirks, leaning in close, her breath brushing against your cheek. “You’re cute, but also gross. I don’t need whatever you have.”

You groan, turning your head away, trapped in your blanket prison as she crawls into bed beside you. Her messy pink hair spills across the pillow, and the sight of her, so effortlessly beautiful even now, makes your chest ache.

“I’m sorry…” you murmur again, your voice soft as you glance at her.

She chuckles, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose. “No more burgers,” she whispers, settling in beside you and pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“No more burgers,” you agree, letting your eyes flutter shut as her warmth seeps into you.

a/n: i wrote this to help me cope that i have no one taking care of while i threw up my insides last night. yeah.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 11

“Robin can’t stay here like that again,” Jason said as he chopped up a cucumber. “If he wants to come back, we need to introduce them properly and Danny needs to be okay with it."

“I know,” Dick sighed. “He’s been getting better but him not listening to B when in cape is a real backslide.”

“That’s not…” Jason made a frustrated noise and put the knife down with a level of care that worried Dick. That worry grew when Jason purposefully stepped back from it to lean against the counter.

“Hood?”

“Kid knew that Robin was here,” Jason said, glaring down the faint leftover ring from a cup of last night’s hot chocolate. “Wing, Danny knew, and he was terrified.”

Dick stilled. He had just thought it was fear or someone else being in the apartment. “How?”

“Smelled him, apparently,” Jason said with a casual shrug that Dick didn’t believe for a moment. “Said that Robin reeked of death.”

“Well, fuck,” Dick said. “The Lazarus Pits?”

“Best as I can figure.”

Best as Jason could figure, but Jason was still bothered by something— something that wasn’t how Damian smelled to Danny.

Dick reached out to still Jason’s hand from where it was picking at the dried ring of coco. “Little wing… what did Danny say?”

It said a lot that Jason didn’t pull away.

“He was terrified because Robin smelled like death but hadn’t died.” Jason looked up to meet Dick’s eyes. A ring of green circled the blue. “He hadn’t died, not like us.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh fuck,” Dick said again. That was the sort of statement that deserved more cussing. He got up and started to pace. “Did you…?”

Jason shook his head. “No. Wasn’t the time, Danny was too freaked out about Robin’s presence. But fuck, Wing, the way he said it… like I should have already known that about him.”

“Like he knows it about you.”

“Yeah. Since he can smell it or sense it or whatever,” Jason said. He ran his hands through his hair, spreading the streak of white throughout the dark locks.

Dick’s eyes stuck on the movement.

“Wing?”

“You’re hair.”

“Who cares if I mess it up—”

“No, J— little wing, your white hair. Danny…” Dick swallowed around the taste of bile. “We know he should have black hair, but it’s all white. Jay, how many times did he die? How many times did they kill him?”

Jason pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, looking ill. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Dick said, immediately regretting upsetting Jason like that. He hated hurting his little brother, but Dick did need someone else on the same page as him. He needed someone else watching out for things. “We’ll get the story when Danny is ready. What matters right now is that he’s here and we’ll keep him safe.”

“We sure as fuck will,” Jason said, a growl rumbling under his voice.

“But we have to wait until he’s ready.”

“Yeah, got you.” Jason leaned back against the wall. His head thumped against it with a sound that made Dick wince.

“But I do think you’ll be the one he talks to,” Dick soothed.

Jason snorted. “Cause the dead stick together.”

“You’re not dead, Jaybird, and neither is Danny.”

“And we’ll keep him safe,” Jason echoed with a sigh.

Dick didn’t have any illusions that Jason’s version of keeping Danny safe wouldn’t include murder if it came to it, but Dick was sure he could play distraction for Bruce, Cass, and Duke if need be. Damian should be kept away too, he had been doing better. Dick groaned and gave in to laying his head down on the counter.

“What horrible thing did you realize now?” Jason asked.

“Just that I’ll need to go see the baby bat. We need to talk about last night and I should just spend more time with him and the other kids.”

“Yeah, that might be good. You should get some damn sleep too before you start trying to subsist on sugar. Don’t think I didn’t see that cereal you had B.B. buy,” Jason chastised.

“I thought Danny might like it!”

“Danny would have a sugar high for three days if he ate a spoonful,” Jason said and went back to chopping up the very healthy cucumber he had.

“Fine, then what are you making?”

“A quick pickle. We’ll have it with feta cheese and couscous. It will be good protein for Danny since we don’t have him eating meat yet,” Jason said.

Dick smiled back. “You know, if you ever get tired of stabbing people with knives, you could just become a personal chef.”

“Why, looking to hire one and solve your horrible eating habits? You should get a maid while you’re at it.”

“Little wing,” Dick whined, clutching at his chest. “That’s so mean! My place is looking great! You’d know that if you ever visited me.”

Jason glanced past Dick and smirked. “Kid, tell Wing he’s a liar.”

“Wing, you’re a liar,” Danny mumbled, the words broken up by a large yawn.

“It’s no fair using Danny against me while he’s still half asleep!” Dick turned away from Jason with a pout and held his arms open.

Looking far from awake, Danny basically stumbled into Dick’s arm. He rested his head against Dick’s shoulder and seemed half ready to fall back asleep right there. Dick didn’t even try to hold back a coo.

Jason snorted. “Yeah, you’re really suffering over there.”

Dick stuck his tongue at Jason before deciding to focus on his littler, cuter brother. He ran his hands through Danny’s hair, trying hard not to think about the color. “Did you have a good nap?”

Danny shrugged. “Mostly.”

“Yeah? And what does mostly mean in this case?” Dick asked.

“Just… I don’t know. Didn’t dream, not really, but sorta felt like I was close to dreaming.”

“I guess you don’t want to dream?”

“Don’t think they’ll be good,” Danny admitted, softly.

“Well, Dandelion,” Dick said, putting as much cheer into his words as he could, “if that happens you come find me or Hood or whoever’s here. Cuddling is always a good cure for nightmares and if that doesn’t work, hot chocolate is even better.”

When Danny didn’t respond, even nonverbally, Dick gave him a little poke in the side which made Danny squeak and squirm a little.

“Tell me what you’ve got rattling around in that brain of yours,” Dick prompted.

Danny heaved a sigh as he pulled away and sat on the stool next to Dick. He kept his eyes downcast, focused on the rather frayed cuff of the hoodie he had taken to almost constantly wearing. “I don’t want wake anyone else up if they’re sleeping. I know you guys haven’t been getting enough rest because of me…”

“Less than we’d like, maybe,” Jason said casually and Dick shot him a glare. They were supposed to be reassuring Danny!

“But,” Jason continued, “we’re fine with that if it means helping you get well. Besides, we’ll get B.B. over here maybe tomorrow and the big blue bird here can go check on the rest of his life for a bit.”

“But only if you’re okay with her being here,” Dick added.

“I don’t want to… you all have done so much for me already. Of course you can go deal with other things. It’s… you don’t have to pay attention to me.”

“Hey, Danny.” Dick reached out, clearly telegraphing his motions so that Danny could pull away if he wanted. When Danny didn’t even twitch, Dick rested his hand over Danny’s. “We want to. I promise you, we want to make sure you’re well and that you heal. We’ll be here the whole time until you’re ready to talk to Bruce.”

“Hell, we’ll be here after,” Jason said. “Gotham is our city, we’re not going anywhere. We’ll still be around if you need us, even if it’s just to be around us.”

Danny glanced up at at Jason with such blatant hope showing through from where it was shuttered behind hard learned lessons and a horrible life. Dick’s heart just about broke.

“Really?” It wasn’t more than a whisper that Danny asked, but it carried so much weight.

“Really,” Jason said with a shrug and that devil may care confidence that only he could manage.

“Really,” Dick added, trying to put as much care and love that he already felt for his new little brother into the word.

Danny glanced down again, but instead of going back to picking at the hem, he twisted his hand to wrap his fingers up with Dick’s.

“I… thank you. That’s… I don’t know why you all care so much when—” Danny cut himself off sharply, biting his lip so hard that Dick was worried that it would bleed.

Dick just squeezed his hand.

“Anyways,” Danny continued after a few shuddering breaths, “it means a lot, thank you.”

“Always,” Dick swore. This was their brother.

-

Damian’s brother was being annoying again.

This was hardly unusual.

“Grayson, do stop lurking like that. It is unbecoming.”

“I wasn’t lurking baby bat!” Grayson said, bouncing forward like some sort of overly cheerful ungulate.

“Tt.”

“I wasn’t! I was being polite and waiting for you to be done with your kata,” Grayson protested with a pout. “If I was being rude I would have just swept in and scooped you up.”

Damian took a step back. “Grayson, no.”

“No what?” he asked, his eyes impossibly wide and innocent.

It was best to leave, Damian decided.

Unfortunately Grayson was actually far more wolf that sheep and he pursued Damian. They tore around the Cave. Damian attempted to use his smaller stature to be able to slip through spots that should be impossible for Grayson to follow him through, but that hardly stopped his brother. What little speed Damian might have gained from his pathing was well made up for Grayson being larger and, as reluctant as Damian was to admit it, better at free running.

“There’s my baby bat!” Grayson cooed as he held Damian close after catching him.

Damian let his arms and legs dangle listlessly. He had learned that Grayson was annoying resistant to nerve strikes and that it was sometimes better to simple accept the… cuddling.

“My bitty bat! Baby bat! Bladed bloody bat!”

Damian sighed.

“We are going to go out!” Grayson said, hauling Damian towards the lift. “I found a shelter that needs some help socializing a whole bunch of cats taken from a hording situation so we’ll pick up a big food donation and head over. Afterwards, we can get falafel from that place on 8th and ice cream from a new place right down the street!”

That… didn’t sound too poor of a day, really.

“I suppose that the cats will have a better chance to be adopted if socialized quickly,” Damian said, haughtily. He couldn’t simply let Grayson know how appealing the idea was.

“Right? And you’re the best person I know for it,” Grayson said. Thankfully he set Damian down once they were in the lift and moving up towards the manor.

Damian stared at the rock on the the other side of the cage. “And… you do not need to go back to the safe house today?”

“Nope!” Grayson chirped. “I’m even going to stay at the manor tonight.”

“That is acceptable. You have informed Pennyworth?”

“Of course baby bat.”

“Very good,” Damian said. They fell into silence as they moved fully into the manor. Damian made his way for the stairs to go up and shower, but paused at the bottom. “Grayson?”

“Yeah, Dami?”

“He was afraid of me.”

Damian was thankful Grayson was astute enough not to ask who.

“He could sense you, it seems,” Grayson said. He walked over and leaned against the railing of the stairs. “Think of it from his point of view. He was asleep in what he had been told was a secure location and woke up to someone else being there. He didn’t know who, or what, you were. I’m sure you’d go on the offensive right away to find out who it was. Danny though… we know he’s been through a lot and I don’t think fighting back was an option for him.”

Damian thought back to the scars that had covered the other’s body in the first pictures. He frowned down at the steps. “Yes.”

“Right, so for him, he needed to find out who you were, just like you would, but he was scared instead of aggressive.”

“Which is why he hid behind Todd.” Damian had barely been able to catch sight of this ‘Danny’.

“Yep. Jason was one of the people who got him somewhere safe, so he trusts Jason to at least try to keep him safe. I’m sure Jay reassured him that was likely you before they came to check.”

Damian snorted.

“Hey, give Jason some credit, he knows his security stuff. He only pretends to still be bad at cellphones so he has a reason not to call.”

“Tt.”

“Don’t worry, baby bat, I’ll talk to Danny about having you come over again when everyone knows to expect you,” Grayson said with a gentleness that annoyed Damian.

“I never said I wished to go back over.”

“No?”

“No. But,” Damian said, stressing the next part, “if it is something everyone in the family is doing, then I will put up with the chore.”

“Thank you, Dami,” Grayson said. “Babs is next and then we’ll see about you! Now go change so that we can get to the shelter.”

“What exactly do you think I was doing,” Damian snapped and headed up the stairs with his head held high and a flutter of worry in his chest that he was pretending didn’t exist.

---

AN: Aaaah it was good to get back to writing this! This was my first time writing Damian's POV and he was an unexpected delight to write! His part got done very quickly. We'll have Babs up soon and Steph will need to bully her way in I'm sure. Bruce is pouting in front of the Batcomputer I'm sure, waiting for his turn to meet his son.

Anyways, stay delightful darlings!

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Family breakfast

Hii guyss, here's a new one-shot about Toto. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist :)

A quiet morning turns into delightful chaos when you discover your husband and son’s surprise gone awry. This leads to a heartwarming family moment filled with laughter and love.

The first thing you notice as you wake is the stillness. Normally, the house would already be alive with the sounds of your son, Jack, running down the hallway, his little feet pounding against the floor. The absence of that familiar noise pulls you from your dreams. And then it hits you: Toto isn’t beside you either. He always stays a little longer in the mornings, kissing your forehead softly before slipping out of bed. But today, nothing.

You sit up, pushing the blankets aside as you glance at the empty spot beside you, feeling a small pang of curiosity. Throwing on a cozy sweater, you pad down the hallway toward the faint smell of… something. It’s not exactly appetizing, but it is familiar. There’s flour in the air, a hint of chocolate, and unmistakably… burnt something.

Rounding the corner, you arrive at the kitchen doorway and pause, stifling a laugh at the scene in front of you. The kitchen is in absolute disarray: flour streaks cover the countertops, bits of batter have splattered on the walls, and your husband and son are standing there, Jack on his stool next to Toto, both looking down at what appears to be a very charred attempt at pancakes.

They’re completely unaware of you watching them, too focused on the burnt batch in front of them.

“Maybe if we put enough syrup on them, she won’t notice,” you hear Jack say in a serious tone, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he looks up at Toto. Toto raises a brow, giving him a playful smile. “You think that’ll work?”

“Well, it works when you make toast,” Jack whispers back, eyes glinting with the wisdom of his young mind.

You clear your throat, unable to hold back a chuckle any longer, and they both spin around, caught red-handed. Jack’s face lights up in that special way, a smile spreading wide across his cheeks as he shouts, “Mama! We were trying to surprise you!”

Toto laughs, raising his flour-covered hands in surrender. “Our plan may not have gone exactly as we hoped,” he admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Turns out we’re not quite as skilled as you when it comes to pancakes.”

You take a few steps forward, pretending to survey the kitchen with a critical eye, your gaze landing on the plate of charcoal-colored pancakes. “Well,” you say, folding your arms in mock seriousness, “it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Jack laughs, his pride undented as he stands tall on his stool. “I helped with the mixing, Mama! But the flipping is hard.”

Toto nods, pretending to look solemn. “It really is harder than it looks. I think we’re going to need some expert intervention here.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, feigning skepticism. “Do you think you two can handle working as my assistants?”

Jack nods so vigorously his little curls bounce. “Yes, yes! I’ll mix it all again!”

You smile, grabbing an apron for yourself and tying it around your waist before stepping forward, guiding them both in their roles. Jack is in charge of mixing the batter again, but this time, you make sure to guide him a little more closely. His giggles are infectious as he watches the lumps disappear, proudly showing you his work. Toto tries to take charge of flipping once more, insisting he’s got it this time, only for a pancake to land halfway on the counter, sending Jack into fits of laughter.

Eventually, after much laughter and a few (successful) pancake flips, you plate the perfect stack, golden and warm. You bring it to the table, setting out butter and syrup while Jack bounces over to his spot, already piling syrup on his stack.

You all sit down together, and Jack digs in immediately, a trail of syrup dribbling down his chin as he takes his first big bite. Toto gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he leans close, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think next time, we’ll let you be the head chef from the start.”

“Or maybe,” you tease, glancing at the two of them, “we keep it a team effort. But maybe a slightly less… chaotic team effort?”

Jack, overhearing, looks up with a big grin. “Family team!” he declares proudly, raising his fork in a sticky salute. You and Toto laugh, clinking your forks with his in agreement.

The three of you linger over breakfast, taking your time with each bite, sharing stories and laughter as the sun streams softly through the kitchen windows. There’s something magical about this moment, the simplicity of syrup-sticky hands and flour-dusted counters. Sitting here with Jack’s joyful giggles and Toto’s quiet warmth beside you, you can’t help but feel a deep, overflowing gratitude for mornings like this—messy, beautiful, and shared with the two people who mean everything to you.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Chocolates vs Aliens

Eddie/Venom x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Fluff, details of pregnancy , childbirth mentions. Venom loves babies! This! Is! A hill! I will die on!

A/N: The winners of the poll! I'll do the Moon Boys next! Also okay its not a drabble but enjoy this hot word vomit asdfghjkl idk should I make a part 2??

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

"SHE IS OUT OF CHOCOLATE?!" Venom's voice boomed inside his head.

"Relax, buddy, we can hit up the 7/11 down the street." Eddie scoffed, adjusting his wireless earbud. Thankfully it looked like he was on the phone, so he could talk freely to Venom without anyone thinking he was insane.

And well, he kind of was, a tiny bit.

Just a tad...

"BUT I CAN SMELL IT!" The symbiote whined childishly as Eddie scooped the frozen egg rolls into the wiry basket looped over his arms.

"Yeah yeah, I know. Mrs Chen could have eaten the last one, Vee. Just chill. How about some chocolate ice cream?" Eddie grinned at the pun.

"No! We always get brain freezes!" He entity huffed.

"Because you scarf down the whole tub in one go." Eddie chuckled.

Venom grumbled again, and a tendril snaked out from beneath Eddie's sweater and dropped a box of brownie mix into the basket. "Fine. I can settle with these."

"Whatever you say, love, but you're helping me bake the shit." The man shrugged in reply as he remembered to grab a carton of milk. He'd need some eggs, too... Well, at least his landlord let him move the chicken coop to the roof in exchange for some free eggs.

Those chickens were fat and spoiled, and Venom loved the little critters dearly, which Eddie always found humorous. Now, whenever Eddie made the joke of turning them into KFC, Venom would be aghast and headbutt him, citing that Sonny and Cher were his "babies".

He'd been talking like that a lot lately, Eddie realized. Venom apparently had a paternal streak in him. Eddie noticed that as well when Venom would find homeless kids or runaways, helping them and trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, even going as far as to change his fangs so they were blunt. (One of the kids assured him that was far creepier than the monster fangs, which made Eddie nearly keel over in laughter...)

"Deal." Venom purred happily, the tendril receding back to slip beneath Eddie's shirt and wrap around him like a hug.

"Alright, alright." Eddie chuckled, grabbing an extra box just in case as he walked around the shelves, sparing a glance at his phone to check the time.

"Eddie." Venom's voice said.

"What?" Eddie lifted his gaze, feeling Venom's haste flood him and put him on alert.

His eyes trailed the store until he landed on the checkout counter, where you were sitting. Not Mrs Chen, but cute, innocent, blissful you.

You were happily munching on a chocolate bar, one of the very ones Venom wanted. It would seem you had claimed it, eating the sugary morsel happily.

"Oh." Eddie mumbled.

He felt it as Venom seized control of his legs suddenly, sending him forward in jerking motions until he practically ran into the counter, making you jump in surprise.

"Oh! Sorry!" He smiled awkwardly, a faint blush to his cheeks.

'Venom, quit it! I'll get you chocolate later!' He said mentally to the alien inhabiting his body.

"No, Eddie. Wait."

"I, ah... Got a bit sidetracked and tripped over my feet." He added.

You smiled at him, "Oh, god. Yeah, I feel you. Lately it's like dragging my heels through wet cement." You chuckled.

Huh. You were... God, you were cute. He could tell even Venom thought so. With your cute fluffy turtleneck and your hair all done, your cheeks nice and rosy from the blush you'd applied.

Which... brought up the question.

"I've never seen you 'round here before." Eddie commented. "Mrs Chen is usually the only person I see in here..."

"Oh! I'm new in town, I live just down and street and she saw my situation and offered me a part-time here. I have a work from home job and everything, but ugh, just staying cooped up inside is so boring!" You say the last part with a groan.

"Damn, would've been nice if she offered me that job a couple years ago." Eddie chuckled.

You giggled a bit at him and looked at his basket, "Is that all for ya, hon?"

"Oh, yeah!" Eddie said, carefully organizing the things onto the glass counter. His eyes flicked to the candy bar you were still steadily breaking pieces off of.

"Bit of a sweet tooth, huh?" He teased.

"Ugh, god... lately? Yes! The craving for it has been absolute hell." You sigh exhaustedly. "Almost everything in my apartment is chocolate flavored or scented now!"

"... Cravings?" Eddie echoed, raising a thick brow.

"Okay, I know what you're thinking and no. It's not "that time of the month" like your brain is probably saying." You snort.

Eddie watches as your hand trails down to your midsection and you pat your belly beneath the plush fabric of your sweater, where a gentle swell stood out a bit more prominently as you smooth the fabric taut over your stomach.

"I just have a certain little jellybean who thinks they can dictate what mama wants to eat all the time. And apparently, chocolate is what's on the menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And... in between." You chuckle.

"OH." Eddie and Venom thought in unison.

"That's why she smells like that!" Venom barked, realizing the underlying scent of chocolate on you was laced with something else. Hormones. He was picking up on those, too.

"Oh! Uh, congrats!" Eddie said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I'm sure you and your, uh, partner are probably super happy, huh?"

"Oh, no, it's just me." You smiled with a hum, taking another little sweet square between your lips.

Eddie's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Okay, so I'm not gonna be rude, but I will explain." You snicker. You seemed infinitely patient and polite about the subject. Apparently this very thing must be a common occurrence with you, that random people must constantly ask this same question, and how tiring it surely must be to answer it again and again...

"No, I don't have a partner, husband, or anything. No daddy."

Eddie awkwardly pointed to your belly. "Then how did y'know... that get in there?"

Eddie controlled the flinch he wanted to make when Venom pinched him. "You did NOT just call her baby a THAT!"

"Yeah, yeah I know. But there's something everyone forgets, and that it doesn't always "take two to tango"." You smile at him again, ringing up his items with one hand, chocolate still clutched firmly in another.

"I decided that I wanted to be a mom. But I didn't want to just go out and get pregnant willy nilly. I have a good job, steady income. But I don't have time to date and there's always the concern that I'd be left a single parent if whoever I was with decided parenthood wasn't for them, y'know?"

Eddie nodded patiently as he and Venom listened to you with rapt attention.

"I went to a fertility clinic, did what the doctor said, then had my egg fertilized with a sperm donor. And then boom," You point to your belly. "Jellybean."

"Oh, that... Yeah okay I forget fertility clinics are a thing." Eddie laughed, shaking his head.

"Well I'm glad you're so open-minded about it!" You grin. "Most people judge me and go "oh your baby needs a father!" and the ever so classic "you don't even know who the father is?" line."

Eddie frowned, and he could tell even Venom was irritated on your behalf. "You don't need to have a partner or spouse to raise a baby. Seriously. What is this, the 1940s?"

"I knoooow!" You giggle again. "And besides! I can support me and my baby just fine, and I'm already happy and so far the pregnancy has been a breeze!"

Eddie could feel a tugging sensation from Venom. The symbiote was curious, and wanted to touch. But Eddie knew that was not only rude as hell, but to some people, socially unacceptable if you don't know the person or ask permission first.

"How uh, far along are you?"

"I just hit my second trimester." You chirp proudly, patting your belly. "The baby's tiny, but I'm finally showing, now."

"Ohhh." Eddie snapped his fingers. "Hence "jellybean", right?"

"Yes!" You laugh.

Eddie pulled out his card and swiped it to pay for the groceries. "It's a cute nickname. Have you thought of any names yet?"

Your brain did a record scratch, and Eddie could see the look on your face.

Nope. Not at all.

You hadn't thought of a damn one. Especially because you didn't know the sex of your baby yet.

"Uh...."

Eddie started snickering at your expression, "Ahhh. My bad." He shoots you a cocky grin, "If I can recommend a name, Eddie is a pretty strong one!"

"Weak." Venom mocked.

"Eddie?" You echo, blinking.

"Oh, don't listen to him, girl." Mrs Chen snorted as she walked up to you two, whacking Eddie with a rolled up newspaper. "This boy is nothing but trouble!"

Her words were jabbing, but not spoken without affection, so you could tell they had a history together.

"Ow! Hey!" Eddie pouted, rubbing the top of his head.

"Oh please, I'd need to shoot this out of a cannon to dent that hard head of yours!" She huffed with a smirk, crossing her arms.

She tilted her head and noticed the candy bar in your hand, and made the mental connection with Eddie and Venom. Riiiiiight. Venom needed chocolate. Mrs Chen tossed it to you when you started scrolling through your phone for door dash orders for chocolate cakes from local restaurants to sate your cravings.

"Oh, right. Sorry about your chocolate fix." Mrs Chen replied, her gum smacking softly. "Gave the lady one to help ease her stomach."

The flush to your cheeks made Eddie smile as you looked at the candy in your hand. "I'm sorry!" You sputtered.

"Hey, man, you got a baby in you. You can't exactly tell the little, uh.... eh. The little person they can't have it?" Eddie struggled. He wasn't sure how the whole cravings thing worked, honestly. Would you indeed cry if he didn't accept your offer? Would your baby get hungry? Was that a thing? He knew jack and shit about babies in general, man.

"Pff, moron."

'Parasite.'

"I AM NOT A PARASITE!"

"Oh, I know but uh..." You say, your eyelashes fluttering as you think, looking from Eddie to the bar in your hand. You decided to finish breaking off the pieces you were working on, and extend your hand giving the rest to Eddie. "Here! I'm good, if I need more I can nab some from the gas station down the street."

"Oh! Uh... I don't wanna, y'know. Take anything from you and your baby." Eddie said, waving his hands.

"Eddie, if you refuse to take it, she could cry." Mrs Chen teased. "You don't want to make a pregnant woman cry do you?"

Eddie's face was hilarious as panic started to bubble up within him as he looked from you, to your outstretched hand, to Mrs Chen, who stood as proud as can be at the chaos she had just sewn.

"Hey! I'm not that hormonal!" You retort to the older lady. But... you deflate a tiny bit. "...Okay, well not yet but still!"

Eddie was still going through the moral dilemma of accepting the kind gesture vs taking candy from a literal baby in somebody's womb.

Venom made the choice for him, extending our Eddie's hand and letting him take it.

"I, uh... Thanks." Eddie blabbered quickly.

"Now let's go home before you make an idiot out of us further." Venom cackled gleefully at the socially awkward situation.

Eddie grabbed the plastic bags and gave an awkward wave and a smile before skittering out of the store with his tail between his legs.

"Geez, he needs to get laid once in a while." Mrs Chen scoffed, going over to check inventory.

You barely had a moment to collect yourself, stopping before you laughed so hard you peed yourself.

That was the first time you and Eddie ever met. It would not be the last.

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Eddie shopped at Mrs Chen's place pretty regularly, her prices were easy on the wallet and she was close by to he and Venom's apartment.

You steadily built up a rapport with Eddie over the next two or three weeks. Venom was inexplicably drawn to you, wanting to constantly convince Eddie to touch your belly.

Eddie kept reminding him that it was frankly rude as shit to do that, and that hell, it would probably make you uncomfortable.

Not long after that, Eddie and Venom discovered--to Venom's utter glee--thay you lived in the same building, the apartment just above his. They found this out when Venom insisted on making sure you made it home after your shift at Mrs Chen's ended, knowing how vulnerable a pregnant lady looked to crooks and criminals.

Twice Venom caught and ate the brains of lowlifes who tried stalking you.

Venom, despite you not knowing of his existence, was fiercely protective of you. And... well he liked you. They liked you.

Eddie hated how quickly both he and Venom became infatuated with you, listening to you talk about your baby, your cravings... They could tell you were lonely despite your cheerful demeanor. Yes, Eddie and Venom had each other already, but they quickly thought about adding you to the mix.

But again, you didn't know about the alien slime monster living inside of Eddie. That subject would have to definitely wait...

He would check on you, leaning his head out his window on occasion to talk to you as you looked up, it brightened up the monotony of your at-home life in between work, asking about how you were feeling as your pregnancy developed. He even texted you lists of different baby names and their meanings to help you out!

When he first asked you out, you were floored. You've never met a man who was interested in a woman pregnant with somebody else's baby, before. You've heard about it sure, but... You were more surprised anyone was interested in you while pregnant with some guy's baby. Let alone your cute downstairs neighbor who apparently babied his pet chickens that were kept on the rooftop.

He even introduced you to them! You didn't hold them of course, for fear of bacteria, and chuckled as he furiously disinfected himself before even coming within three feet of you, all for you and your baby's health.

A man who was sweet, considerate, caring and he loves animals? Add the looks to that bill and that was a difference you were willing to pay. How was he still single?!

But... Well. That changed after your first date, and he was glad you accepted it all.

And it wasn't long after that (several weeks actually) you discovered he wasn't, in fact, single. He didn't have a girlfriend or anything but he certainly had a partner.

Said partner... was some kind of ooze-critter that lived inside of him. And you only found this out when you came home from a late night convenience store run for some triple chocolate chunk ice cream, walked into your apartment...

And saw him.

Venom, in his hulking form, stood awkwardly in your apartment, looking like a deer trapped in headlights when you flicked your lights back on, the ice cream in your bag forgotten.

As your door slowly swung closed due to angled flooring, you opened your mouth to scream.

Venom cut you off, his massive hands shooting up and he waved them, "DON'T SCREAM!"

You snapped your mouth shut, your teeth making an audible click as your heart hammered in your chest.

"We were worried! You weren't responding to our texts or when we knocked on your door?" His deep and rumbly voice growled out.

You shudder at the timbre of his voice, eyes never once leaving the rows of jagged fangs in his maw. You drop your plastic bag and step back, covering your belly--now very prominent as you were later in your term--protectively.

That seems to... upset him? He frowned, looking at the carpet as he lowered his hands, his large eyes narrowing as he carefully thought, trying to think of ways to alleviate the fear bubbling through you.

He took a slow step towards you, like you were a frightened animal caught in a trap that he had to be gentle with, lest you struggle or flail and get hurt.

"We were worried about you. We--" His head snapped to his left and he snarled. "Yes! "We"! You were worried, too! Don't try to say you weren't!"

You watch, in shock as he has essentially a one-sided argument with himself, getting exasperated, saying the word "love" and "dear" here and there.

You stayed, scared, until the ugly sensation of your nausea reared its ugly head and you dropped the plastic bag, literally shoving past this gigantic creature in a mad dash to your bathroom or you were gonna blow chunks right then and there.

You didn't even shut the door before you collapsed to your knees, hugging the bowl as you heaved the contents of your digestive system into the pearly white porcelain, leaving what could only be the Venom, the creature that supposedly stalked your city eating people, in your living room.

By the end of the nausea fit, your eyes were watery, your nose was runny and your face blotched with color, the whites of your eyes glassy from the strain. You felt lightheaded and dizzy as you rinsed your mouth with water right from the tap, gargling and spitting until the foul acidic taste went away.

You felt your now empty stomach growl and your first instinct was to go get food and eat again, to replenish the energy you just spent hurling everything you ate that day.

But then you remembered...

The big guy.

You didn't have any sort of object to wield as a weapon, so you merely sheepishly peeked around the corner, watching as the creature called Venom gingerly moved about your kitchen, things that looked like tentacles reaching out and grabbing a cup, some ice, and a can of ginger ale from your fridge and pour it into the cup; all the while making a sandwich. Nutella with your banana/mango spread. A favorite you'd started to enjoy in the past week.

But the only person you ever told that to was...

You froze when he turned around, locking eyes with you as he set the food on your breakfast island, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"We... We know that you're probably hungry after... So we figured..." He said, gesturing vaguely to the food and drink in front of him.

"How do you know..." You breathed.

His colossal shoulders heave as he sighed, walking around the island and over to you, stopping just a mere few feet away.

"Promise not to be mad? Or scream?"

You weren't sure why in the hell he asked you that, but you felt already too far gone into shock to really argue. Plus, throwing up took all urges to scream from your poor sore throat.

So, you nodded.

"Okay."

You watched as the strange black goo peels back layer by slinking layer, until a man is revealed beneath.

But it's not just any man.

It's fucking Eddie. Your neighbor-turned-recent-boyfriend.

"You--!"

"We can explain! Just please, please don't be mad at us!" Eddie winced.

You felt another dizzy spell start to hit at this revelation. "How long--"

"A few years. Look, we planned on telling you. It's just... not tonight. When you didn't answer my texts or calls, I got worried and..." He sighed.

You watched as Venom's head moved out from behind Eddie's shoulder to peer at you, the thick black goo that made up the appendage holding his head up moving almost like water. He offered you a smile, and part of you wished that'd solve the tension in the air, to assuage your increasing confusion. But sadly, it didn't.

"Vee didn't want to fucking wait an extra ten minutes when you didn't answer the door and climbed through your window, which you should start locking I mean I know we're on the upper floors with no balcony or fire escape, but it's still a safety concern and with the baby--"

You interrupted Eddie's rambling. "Vee?" You echo.

"Uh--okay. That's what I call Venom when he isn't being an incorrigible shithead. Or a parasite who takes control of my body." Eddie sighed.

You almost laughed when Venom headbutted him in the side of his head.

"Stop calling me that! It's rude!" Venom snarled.

"No, what's rude is breaking into somebody's apartment!" Eddie retorted, jabbing a finger at Venom. "We talked about this!"

"You were worried, too!"

"Yes but I wasn't going to crawl through her goddamn window!"

Your eyes darted from one to the other as they started bickering like a... like a... Oh.

Yeah. It was after a two hour long conversation that Eddie told you everything. About his ex, the Life Foundation, finding Venom, fighting Riot, then the whole thing with Carnage, Venom's offspring... and of course, their actual relationship with one another, now. They argued like a married couple because they basically were one, complete with... well. You weren't ready in the current situation to imagine how the bedroom situation worked between them, yet.

You took it better than he expected. Way better.

"Honestly.... The only thing scarier than Venom is childbirth." You said, sitting next to him on the couch, your hands on your belly.

"...Eddie." you said slowly.

"Uh--yeah? What's up, sweetheart?" He asked awkwardly, Venom's eyes immediately drawn down to where your hands caressed the bump beneath your thin t shirt.

"How come you haven't asked to touch my belly yet? I'm... surprised. I've had random people come up to me and ask, but not... you."

"Wait... uh. So. You're giving... Permission?" Eddie asked, blinking his big, ridiculously lashed eyes at you.

"Well, yeah, and--"

"FINALLY!" Venom hissed.

In a black blur, Venom lurched forward over Eddie's shoulder, straight for your tummy. He pressed the side of his head against your belly, tendrils of his strange slime-like flesh wrapping around your midsection; listening to the baby's heartbeat and feeling for any movements.

Eddie meanwhile, looked equal parts horrified and embarrassed as he facepalmed, blushing all the way to his ears. "That's why. He's been fucking obsessed with you and your baby since he first realized you were pregnant."

You looked down as the symbiote cuddled you, and by extension, your baby, your jaw agape at how he was purring while he nuzzled into you.

"...That's why you're always so concerned about me?" You asked dumbly, blinking over at Eddie, who gave you an awkward smile and shrug in reply.

"Yeah, hate to break it to you, doll, but... Vee has kinda... claimed you two." He said.

"Claimed me." You repeated.

"Yeah. He has this thing... with kids?" He rolled his hand to try and think of words to describe it. "He's overprotective. He's the same with Sonny and Cher, it's just... he doesn't interact with many pregnant people so when he met you, that weird little drive kicked in. The fact that we both started feeling something for you outside of that kinda blindsided us, but..."

"So what?" Venom scoffed, resting his chin on the curve of your belly, looking up at you with a grin. "This is our baby now, and we will protect the both of you."

"Venom!" Eddie snapped.

"You claimed us?" You were having a difficult time wrapping your head around this. All of it. The whole situation in general. First your boyfriend has a boyfriend who technically isn't a boy but identifies as one because gender was a foreign concept to his species, they were together before they met you, Venom is a literal alien--

And now... was he saying...

"L-Look, I know it's early on and we haven't been dating long, but..." Eddie rubbed his sweaty palms on his faded-out jeans.

"Are you two saying... that you want to be with me? Rest of the pregnancy, birth, and all?"

The hell was your life, some kind of weird, cheap, sci-fi romance novel? The dashing, handsome alien(s) swoop in and offer to help raise your baby? What kind of parallel world were you in?

Eddie was quiet, and Venom merely stared at him, before looking back at you.

"Yes." He said. "Eddie is too much of a pussy to say it, but he likes the idea of taking care of a tiny you."

"Venom! Fuck! Stop calling me that!" Eddie snapped at the symbiote as he protectively snuggled your tummy.

Venom merely stuck his tongue out at him, "I will when you stop calling me a parasite!" He looked back up at you, giving you the best rendition he could of a hurt puppy. "Do you see how he talks to me? Despicable!"

You snorted a short laugh before you could stop yourself, and covered your mouth.

"Hah! See? She thinks I'm funny! So shut it!"

"Oh, my god, that does not count--"

"Yes it does I already won." Venom said contentedly.

"Look!" Eddie groans. "Just... We are willing to be with you. Take care of you, and help with the baby. If... you'll have us. I know this whole situation is weird, but..." Eddie trails off, looking at you hopefully.

The decision wasn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. Eddie and Venom haven't given you a reason to be afraid--other than scaring the shit out of you earlier because Venom apparently has fucking anxiety--and, well... They were so sweet, and gentle... And if Venom doting on your unborn baby currently was any indication, the affection would probably increase a hundred fold after your little bundle of joy arrived.

"Okay." You said.

All the tension seemed to drain from Eddie's body and he sighed, a relieved smile blooming on his face as he looked at you with a look in his eyes that had your heart doing a little flip in your chest.

"Thank God..." Eddie sighed happily.

Venom grinned widely at you, before shooting back to Eddie and seizing the body again, his inky black mass covering Eddie entirely.

Your couch creaked under the added weight of Venom's increased mass as he leaned over, dwarfing your whole body as he wrapped his thick, tree-trunk arms around your tinier body, nuzzling into your cheek before giving you a kiss. Thankfully no tongue, because you thought you'd probably choke if he did that.

When he pulled back, your face was flush at the boldness of his actions, and looked up at him as his opalescent eyes narrowed sweetly down at you.

But something Venom said clicked into your brain, finally, once it rebooted from the kiss.

"Venom, you said you two wouldn't mind helping raise a tiny me." You began. "But I don't know if I'm having a boy or girl, yet."

"Oh, we can." Venom grinned. "I could tell when I was holding onto you. It was easy."

"What?!" You sputter.

"You're having a little girl, by the way."

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You booked an appointment two weeks later. And damn, Venom was right. You were having a girl! At least the naming situation was easier, now that you narrowed down the sex.

Many people said you and Eddie were moving fast, but you ignored them because they didn't know the real situation. Your apartment was bigger, two rooms, one for you (and now Eddie and Venom) and the other was the nursery for the baby.

Eddie was affectionate, but Venom was downright clingy. He was almost always wrapped around your belly in some way or another, purring as he used his weird slimy body to massage you. He helped with your back strain surprisingly, how he would massage you. Eddie proposed maybe letting Venom bond with you for the remainder of the pregnancy to ensure safety and good health, but Venom shot the idea down himself.

He explained it like it was a bit like an organ donor match, if you weren't a match for him you could get sick, or God forbid both you and the baby could die. And to Eddie's surprise Venom made the nature decision to settle for massaging your back and tummy to ease the strain.

Venom jumped at the chance to rub your coconut oil into your belly to help ease the risk and appearance of stretch marks, too.

Through the mood swings, crazy cravings and nesting phases and all, you two boyfriends stayed with you through all of it. Several times you woke up to Venom and Eddie cooking in the kitchen, making sure you had a decent breakfast in the morning.

The only problem was... well. They cooked like broke college boys. So, you spent time giving them cooking lessons, which was one of the funnest things you'd done in a while. The messes were worth cleaning up, the cute recordings you made were memories that'd last a very very long time.

Nighttime cuddles were great, Venom slinking beneath the blankets to wrap around both you and Eddie to snuggle, massaging you the whole night. It really helped when he would conform a certain way so you could lay on your side comfortably and ease the strain on your poor spine and hips.

Who needed a pregnancy pillow when you had a symbiote, right?

Eddie and Venom read up as much as they could on the subject of babies and childbirth and to say Eddie was terrified was an absolute understatement. The photos and diagrams alone had him chewing his nails (getting a swift smack from Venom) and he felt himself getting queasy when he found out that apparently you would be delivering the placenta as well?!

How much did you have to go through, making a tiny human?!

This whole situation amused the fuck out of you, however, as you'd done all this research and merely accepted it. A bit of blood, etcetera after delivery seemed easy to deal with given you've dealt with your period since puberty and that alone was a mess by itself...

But watching a man learn more about it? Oh, it was hilarious.

But hey! They were excited for a cute little baby girl to snuggle and kiss!

One night, you were laying in bed as you scrolled through various baby items online, saving a few cute things for later. Eddie had his head on your shoulder, watching a movie, with an arm draped over your belly, now painfully (sometimes literally) obvious bump, feeling the baby shift and move around as she kicked inside of you.

Venom had encapsulated Eddie's arm, his massive hand stroking your tummy idly.

Apparently, a thought had been bouncing around in Venom's brain and he finally decided to ask it. His head morphed from behind Eddie and peered over at you.

"The baby is a girl." He said.

"Yeah, Venom, that's been established." Eddie snorted, moving until his cheek was resting on your chest.

"Eddie, that's mean." You chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. "Venom, continue."

"Thank you, sweet thing." Venom purred at you, shooting Eddie a glare afterwards.

"But anyway... If the baby is a girl now..." He tipped his head to the side. "What if the baby decides or realizes when she's older that she isn't one? Or either?"

You lower your phone, eyebrows raised at the gravity of his question. Even Eddie sat up on his elbow to look at Venom, surprised at the depth of the question coming from his symbiote. Honestly though, the subject made sense coming from a species that technically didn't have genders in the first place...

Venom seemed happy with your reply, and looked to Eddie expectantly. He already knew what his opinion was, but he wanted him to say it out loud for you.

"Well..." You begin. "If she decides she wasn't born the right gender, or feels like she's neither, or even leaning on both scales... I won't have a problem. I just want our baby to be happy and healthy, not conformed or trapped in any way. That includes the identity she will have as she realizes things about herself."

"Well, I don't have room to talk on gender identity." Eddie snickered. "Considering how you didn't really decide to go by male pronouns until you bonded with me and stuck with that identity because it fit for you... so, yeah. Whatever the baby decides when she's old enough is fine with me."

You grin and kiss Eddie on his temple, ruffling his hair as Venom nuzzles into your belly.

Yeah...

Safe, happy, and loved. That's what your baby would be, no matter what. With her two weird dads and her mom who puts up with their nonsense.

[achocosun]

all I need is the air that I breathe, and to love you ft. lee mark !

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ genre ; non-idol!mark × fem reader. fluff, pure unadulterated fluff. established relationship au. use of pet names (for her: baby, pretty girl / for him: lovie). just a short drabble to get used to posting on tumblr. ugh this turned tooth-rottingly sweet.

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ word count ; 1.4k (this was supposed to be shorter but well, i got carried away haha)

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ warning(s) ; none that i see ^^

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ notes ; divider by @mewryn (it's so pretty oml)

laughter. the sound of laughter had to be your favorite music that drifted leisurely throughout the apartment.

be it hushed chuckles over a movie or a funny tiktok your boyfriend sent over to you, the rambunctious cackling that tailed your group of friends when they'd indulged a little too much in drinks after dinners that often than not happened in the home you shared with mark–you cherished them all the very same.

before you moved into the flat on the tenth floor, the highest any residential building went in the street equidistant to both of your workplaces, you had some doubts. mostly concerning how eerily quiet it tended to get even with the faint honks of traffic in the heart of seoul.

you could owe it to your upbringing in the city, never once truly alone despite how easily it was slipping into a faraway headspace. you still did that sometimes but after meeting mark, the use of your headphones that'd found purchase against your ears got lesser and lesser. until you could go days just listening to his little tangents.

of course, it was more because of the fact that you adored how his whole face brightened as he shared with you something, anything he held dear. the way his soft brown eyes twinkled as he animatedly explained his point made you lose all sense of reality.

once in sophmore year of college, he had stopped for half a minute and then chuckled at you staring at him in awe. it had taken him waving his hand before you and a "hello, earth to _______? do i have something on my face?" for you to realize your embarrassing predicament.

only mark didn't seem to find it odd. no, on the contrary he found the gesture endearing. he had that tendency to ramble, everyone told him as much. but for you to listen to every word and hang onto it infused a swell in his heart, a giddy feeling he honestly did not want to suppress.

with mark, everything came in it's most simple form. relationships were not supposed to be easy, each one had it's own complications as did yours. but with him you knew you would always try to work through every rough patch because your boyfriend was willing just as much.

you had put an official label on your relationship in junior year, and not being strangers to the amount of teasing that would ensue from your rather large circle of friends, you had decided to keep it lowkey, letting them find out on their own and ease into it.

but with your streak of not keeping your hands–or lips for that matter—off each other, it took them two weeks flat to figure it out. but that's on johnny and his inability to knock on doors as he strutted into mark's dorm as if it was his own, oblivious to you both tangled in each other's arms on the small sofa pushed against the wall beside the balcony.

to your surprise, no noticeably grand change came with the reveal. in johnny's words, you and mark had always been sort of touchy with each other even as friends. he told you to keep the make-outs to a minimum and nobody else would know for sure.

after graduation, mark had mustered up the courage to ask you to move in with him. he had put a lot of thought into it—scoured for decently sized apartments, looked for help from his older friends and even went as far as to ask your parents for their opinion.

of course, the one answer that mattered was yours but even the fact that he asked your parents made you feel elated. and it definitely earned him their seal of approval.

the hesitant question had followed a meal of chinese takeout for dinner as you leaned your head on his shoulder, watching the movie playing in the living room of his childhood home, an arm wrapped around his waist. you had noticed his skittishness all night and it all came to a head as he played with the ends of your hair.

"i was thinking", mark started, taking your hum as approval to continue while you lowered the volume of the tv. "and seriously you can take as much time to think or even say no, i won't force you."

this time you turned to face him fully, a frown creeping up to your face. "what is it, markie? is something wrong?"

"i– well..." he took a sharp breath, eyes never once meeting your own. "i was thinking maybe you can move in with me?"

the silence that followed only plummeted his heart further down his stomach. mark moved an inch away from you, grabbing the remote from your grasp while shaking his head. "never mind. it's way too soon to think of that stuff, right? that's was a sudden, stupid ques—"

"don't say that. nothing you said is stupid." regaining your voice, you shifted closer to him, your grip sliding up his arm and towards nape as you rubbed the area. his shoulders slouched visibly, irrate heartbeat slowing just a little.

you smiled up at him, deft fingers smoothing across his across his brow and finally resting against his cheeks. it took a little tug for him to finally face you, mouth opening and closing as he wracked his brain for the appropriate words to find him when you spoke again.

"i would love to move in with you, mark."

as much as you loved mark when he's talking, sometimes you took great pleasure in rendering him speechless.

as quick as lightning he held your wrists with widened eyes, stopping the advances of your hands down his perfectly sculpted face. you brushed his knee softly as his adam's apple bobbed with a dry gulp.

mark found it hard to even formulate a thought, let alone speak. just when he'd started believing all of this was a bad idea, horrendous really, your admission nearly made his brain short-circuit.

"woah, wait— no. what?" he stumbled over the words eliciting a giggle out of you. "run that by me again, baby. i don't think i heard you correctly."

swatting his shoulder playfully, you took liberty to throw a leg over his, straddling his lap. "you heard me just right the first time, lovie. i think we should do it, move in together. i mean, we have somewhat stable jobs and it would stop us from inconveniencing your parents or mine. honestly, i love your mother but i got goosebumps when she winked at me on the way out."

mark managed a chuckle, rubbing up and down the sides on your legs on either side of him. this had been your arrangement after college. date nights in either of your houses meant the parents always had to leave unless they wanted to walk in on their not-so-little-anymore kids doing anything reserved for behind closed doors.

suddenly, you found yourself being pulled forwards into his chest as his ecstasy evolved into child-like laughter–carefree and unbound. his arms tightened around your form as you succumbed to your own joy.

mark whispered against your hair between pressing kisses to the crown of your head, "i love you, you know that?"

you peeked up at him, cheeks starting to hurt from the wide smile that nothing in the world could dampen. "do you?"

"mhmm. and now that we will live together, i'll remind you everyday, pretty girl. over and over."

sometimes, it scared you how dependent you had gotten on this one single person. finding your chest surging with pride in his every minute success, just as it ached when he hurted.

mark looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. then again, you were sure you'd visit every length to do just that if he so much as asked.

and that night had brought you to this one, sitting against the armrest of the loveseat surrounded by your friends, legs thrown over your boyfriend's as he held you close. you knew he would never let you fall but every fiber in your being appreciated the closeness regardless.

you smiled at haechan's dramatic recounting of some incident in the pub last night, finding comfort in the fingers thrumming to an unknown beat against your hips.

as your eyes wandered to every occupant of the cozy living room of your apartment—yours and mark's—you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars for this chance.

because until you have this little life, this warm, lived-in home, your friends, family and most importantly him by your side, nothing could make you a stranger to the sense of contentment.

© ACHOCOSUN '2024 on tumblr

[eiightysixbaby]

right here, right now

pairing: jonathan byers x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

summary: it's almost time to try and save the world, again. but before you do, you and jonathan have something to take care of.

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT some angst, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names

author’s note: aahhhh, nothing like some ‘i need to have you right now because the world might end and idk if i’ll ever get to have you again’ smut

You aren't really sure how long it had been. You aren't sure how long it would be, until Nancy patched through on the walkie talkies to give you the all clear to join the others or until something killed you, whichever came first.

You sit in the back seat of Steve's BMW, clenching and unclenching your fist around your baseball bat to ease your nerves. You're parked off the side of the road, close but not too close to the most recent gate that had opened up in Hawkins. Steve, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin had gone through, preparing to enact the first phase of the plan. You'd spent the last couple of days preparing, giving yourselves until the last possible moment to ensure everything was perfect. To ensure that you could seal up the contents of the Upside Down forever - lock them away, never to seep into your reality ever again.

But now, as you sit trembling on the leather bench seat, the details don't matter. What does matter, a fact gone unspoken but known by each of you equally, is that this is your last chance. If you fail this time - and the possibility of that is very real - it will cost you your lives. It will cost the lives of everyone in this town; Hawkins will fall.

Jonathan's breathing is staggered beside you, his body shuddering with each exhale. He's trying not to panic for your sake, but you know he's fearing for you and for Will, for his mom, for himself. For everyone.

The world is dark around you, nightfall having hit what feels like eons ago. Your teeth chatter although it isn't cold, and you startle momentarily when you feel Jonathan's hand come to rest on your thigh.

"Hey," he says softly, bringing your focus onto him and only him. "It's gonna be okay, yeah? We're going to get through this."

You're silent for a moment. "What if we don't this time, Jon?" You can barely look at him as you say the words, because you fear you'll burst into tears if you meet those soft honey eyes.

He can see your sturdy resolve beginning to crumble, and he drops his weapon and pulls you into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Don't think like that, okay? We're going to do this, we have to do this."

You know that he's saying this to convince the both of you, you know he doesn't fully believe it himself, but you appreciate the reassurance regardless. You bury your face further into the soft fabric of his shirt, taking a long, deep inhale. He smells as he always has, like laundry detergent and his cologne and a faint hint of coffee.

You don't want to think about the fact that this could be the last time you get to smell his smell.

Before you can stop them, a few stray tears escape your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. You sniffle quietly, trying to collect yourself once more, but Jonathan's already alert to your upset.

"Hey, hey," he soothes, tilting your chin up with a gentle finger. "Baby, I'm here with you. I'm here."

You don't want to say what you're thinking - But what if you aren't always here? What if this is the last moment we have together? - and so you say nothing. Your lip wobbles as you take a shaky breath, more tears rolling warm and heavy down your skin.

Jonathan is quick to wipe them away, the pad of his thumbs so soft as they rid your face of the saltwater streaks.

"I'm so scared," is all you can say before he's hugging you tight against him once more, his grip on you firm and comforting.

"I know, I know," he rocks you back and forth, kissing your forehead. "Me too."

You pull back suddenly, feeling the need to look him in his eyes. "I love you so much, more than I've ever loved anything in my life."

"More than you love birthday cake milkshakes from Benny's?" he jokes, the left corner of his mouth tugging upward in a slight smirk.

You laugh, a watery sound through your ebbing tears. "Oh, on second thought, never mind..."

He joins in on your laughter, and for a moment everything is normal. For a moment you're on the couch in his living room and Joyce is making cookies in the kitchen, and you aren't about to fight monsters and try to save the world, again. You appreciate his willingness to try and make you smile, even in the bad moments.

"I love you too, you know that. I always will." he returns your sentiment once your giggles have subsided, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours.

You kiss him back eagerly, his mouth a welcome reprieve from the constant terror your life has been lately.

You can't quite pinpoint the moment it goes from sweet and tender to needy and hot, but it happens quickly. One moment his lips move slowly against yours, his hands soft on your cheeks, and the next his tongue is prying into your mouth and your hands are tangled in his hair and tugging. You're pulling yourself onto his lap, knees bracketing his hips, both of you breathing heavily.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes searching your face. "You really want to do this right now?" he checks, waiting for your permission.

You nod quickly. "Yes, right now." There's a pause, and then. "I don't know when we'll get to do this again."

It's a devastating statement if you really think about it, but neither of you are planning on thinking too hard. He doesn't dwell on the undertones of it, instead he lets his hunger take over.

You thought you'd been desperate to have him before, like that time after he was sick for two straight weeks and you couldn't see him, or when you'd teased him so bad beneath your lunch table senior year that he'd dragged you into the janitor's closet and made you late for the next class. But this? This was new, this rivaled every time before it. You were primal, animalistic in the way you licked into each other's open mouths, determined in the way you undid his belt and pushed his jeans down his thighs.

It was a desperation that could only come from such a dire sense of urgency - the end of the world wasn't necessarily far away, after all.

He wastes no time helping you shed your pants, both of you knowing that this isn't the time for drawn-out foreplay or extensive teasing - you never know when Nancy's voice might sound over the walkie.

Good thing for him, you're already soaking through your panties, the severity of the situation only turning you on further in some sick, twisted way. You need to have him, there's no questioning it.

You let out a harsh whine when his lips latch onto your neck, sucking hard on the tender skin, his hands gripping your hips with a ferocity you've never felt from him before. He guides you over his cock, letting his shaft slide through your folds, your juices coating him. He hisses at the sensation, his cheeks flushing a deep pink that you can decipher even in the low lighting.

"Shit, baby," he rasps, letting his head fall back against the seat.

You give him a sly little smirk. "Am I losing ya already?" you tease, satisfied when he rolls his eyes.

"No," he says, and before you can process it he's completely flipped your position; you now lying down along the cool leather seat, his body hovering over yours. "Definitely not."

Your lips part in an attempt to say something, but no words can come out before he's kissing you once more. Your legs fall open easily, allowing him space to fully slot himself between them. He lets out strained whimpers when he licks into your eager mouth, your hands splayed across his back, nails digging into the skin through his shirt.

"Baby," you pant. "I can't wait any longer, I need you," your voice is breathy, impatient.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmurs against your cheek. "I'm gonna take care of you."

In seconds he's got his hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, slowly guiding the tip into your weeping entrance. You gasp at the initial intrusion, the sound turning into something closer to a scream the more of him you take.

"Jonathan, Jonathan," you mumble mindlessly, drunk on his cock and he's only been inside of you for thirty seconds. In normal circumstances he may have teased you, made your face flush with heat as he taunted your desperation. But these aren't normal circumstances, and he's just as needy as you are.

"I know, angel, I know," he murmurs. "Feels so good, huh?"

You nod, pressing sloppy kisses to his lips as he starts to move inside of you. The drag of his length out and in and then out again has you nearly delirious, bringing every inch of your body to life, as if you're a live wire.

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he curses, picking up his pace rapidly.

The car fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths and moans and sighs. You're able to almost forget, like this. With his weight on top of you and his cock hitting the perfect spot inside, you can almost pretend like you don't have a baseball bat and an axe sitting on the floor of the vehicle, signifiers of your impending battle. You try to ignore the way the street lights flicker outside, something you know to be a sign of more than just faulty bulbs.

His teeth nip at your earlobe, a weakness of yours, and you know that he's seen the flickering too. It's his silent way of trying to distract you as best he can. Paired with the relentless way in which he pounds into you, it works, your brain nearly shutting off as you zone in on his grunts and whines.

"I love you," he pants. "So fucking much."

He tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, and only when he lets go do you reply. "I love you, fuck I love you. Feels so good, Jon."

He chuckles lightly at this, satisfied with his ability to bring you such pleasure. "You feel good, too. You have no fucking idea," he praises, resting his forehead against yours as he maintains his steady pace.

There's something in your gut that tells you you don't have much time before your friends will page you, and as if reading your mind, Jonathan's right hand finds its way between your thighs. The pad of his thumb begins to rub quick circles over your clit, your breathing growing heavier. You feel electric beneath his touch, succumbing entirely to how good he’s making you feel.

"You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, angel?" he asks, knowing if he keeps up his actions, you'll be hurtling over the edge in no time.

"Yes!" you cry, "Yes Jonathan, fuck. I want to be a good girl, wanna cum for you."

He dips his head low, his mouth against the shell of your ear. "So do it, then," he instructs, his voice deliciously husky, his tone commanding.

It's all you need to fully reach your breaking point, and your legs shake as you cum around his cock. His name spills from your lips in a shattered cry, back arching off of the seat beneath you. Your orgasm seems to last forever, your walls squeezing him tight until he's spilling inside of you, moaning your name followed by a string of curses. He collapses on top of you, and it's so comforting to feel the weight of him. To feel and hear him breathing.

The euphoric haze you’d been caught up in, the primal urge that had taken control of you starts to fade. You don’t want reality to set in, you want to fend it off for as long as possible, but it’s too late. Fear creeps its way back into your throat, and you cling tighter to Jonathan.

He senses your unease and you know he’s feeling it again, too. So when he speaks, his voice slightly hoarse from use, you’re expecting him to say something serious. “Do you think Steve will be mad we fucked in his car?"

You snort, genuinely caught off guard by the lighthearted question. "Let's save the world first, and then we can decide if we're even gonna tell him."

Jonathan laughs, and the sound tugs at your heart strings. It's one of your favorite sounds, and you only hope you get to hear it for years to come.

You kiss him, slow and passionate before deciding you need to redress. You prepare your backpack of necessary tools, you hold his hand as you wait for Nancy's signal.

And with ever perfect timing, her voice comes through the static.

One squeeze of your hand. Two. Three.

I. Love. You.

[enemiestolovershoe]

hey :) .. i‘m in desperate need for a very fluffy fic with chris and bsf!reader where reader went to the triplets house earlier that day and ever since she was off. she crashed on the couch and as chris went to the kitchen to get some pepsi he saw that the lights are still one and reader is still up. crying. he askes whats wrong (you make something up) and chris is comforting her in the end and they end up cuddling falling asleep on the couch. :) thank you so much

Shattered Trust

Christ Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: After Y/N’s world shatters from betrayal, Chris offers her comfort and support, helping her navigate the painful path of healing and rediscovery.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Mild swearing, Crying, Emotional Distress, Betrayal

The glowing screen of your phone illuminated your tear-streaked face as you typed out a message. Your hands trembled, but you forced yourself to hit send:

Hey, Chris, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the reply to pop up.

Not at all. What’s up?

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth or to brush it off as nothing. The thought of sitting in your room, replaying the betrayal over and over, was unbearable. You needed a distraction, somewhere to go, people to be with—people who felt safe.

Can I come over? you finally typed.

Chris’s reply came faster this time.

Of course. We were just about to pick a movie. You coming over for our movie night?

You blinked at the screen. You’d completely forgotten tonight was one of your monthly traditions with the triplets. Normally, the thought would’ve excited you, but now it just felt like a lifeline.

Yeah, movie night sounds good. Be there in 15.

Chris stood in the living room, holding his phone with a faint smile. "Y/N's coming over," he announced to Nick and Matt, who were sprawled across the couch, arguing about which movie to watch.

"Finally," Nick grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Matt. "I was about to call her myself. It’s her turn to pick the snacks anyway."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure she doesn’t just want to escape from her crazy family? Remember that time she showed up because her mom and sister were having a screaming match over hair dye?"

Chris shrugged. "I don’t care why she’s coming. She asked, so she’s welcome."

As you drove through the quiet streets, your mind drifted back to the moment everything shattered.

Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself—had always been charming, maybe too charming. You’d never questioned his late nights or the way he sometimes avoided your gaze when your sister was around. You’d trusted him completely.

But a week ago, you’d come home early from a canceled lunch with friends, only to find the two of them tangled up on the couch. The image was burned into your memory, along with the sound of their voices stumbling over excuses.

"Y/N, it’s not what it looks like," he’d said, his voice dripping with guilt.

"Seriously?" you’d spat, unable to even look at your sister. "How long has this been going on?"

Your sister had said nothing, just stood there, avoiding your eyes. That silence had hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Pulling into the Sturniolos’ driveway, you wiped your eyes and practiced a smile in the mirror. The triplets didn’t know what had happened, and you weren’t ready to tell them. Tonight needed to be about something else, anything else.

Chris opened the door before you could even knock. "Hey, you made it!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. "You okay?"

You nodded, forcing your practiced smile. "Yeah, just needed some company."

"Well, you’re in luck," Nick called from the couch, waving the remote. "We were about to watch something, but Matt refuses to watch anything fun. Save us."

"Hey!" Matt protested. "At least I pick movies with actual plots."

"Sure, if by 'plot,' you mean boring dialogue and depressing endings," Nick shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. You want something to drink? Snacks? Or just want to settle in and pick the movie?"

You hesitated, but the warmth of their familiar banter started to thaw the icy weight in your chest. "I’ll take snacks and the remote," you said with a weak laugh.

"Now that’s the Y/N we know," Chris said, his smile softening as he led you into the living room.

You flopped onto the couch with a sigh, curling into the corner as Nick and Matt argued over yet another movie choice.

"Okay, but why would we watch Inception right now? It’s like three hours long, and my brain’s not ready for all that," Nick said, waving his hands in exasperation.

"Because it’s a good movie," Matt shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, but good doesn’t mean fun, and I’m in the mood for fun," Nick retorted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your first real laugh in what felt like days. "How about The Hangover?" you suggested, cutting through their debate.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

"Classic choice," Chris said with an approving nod.

"Finally, someone with taste," Nick said, glaring at Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. At least it’s better than whatever Nick would’ve picked."

"Excuse me, my taste is immaculate," Nick replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in Matt’s direction.

Chris handed you the remote and stood. "I’ll grab some snacks. Pepsi okay?"

"Perfect," you said, your voice soft but grateful.

A few minutes later, Chris returned with a can of Pepsi and a small bowl of your favorite chocolate. He placed them on the table in front of you, giving you a brief, searching look.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that Nick and Matt wouldn’t hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Thanks, Chris."

He didn’t push further, just gave you a small smile before sitting down next to you.

As the opening credits of The Hangover rolled, you settled into your corner of the couch. Nick had sprawled out on the floor with a blanket, Matt took the recliner, and Chris sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The room quickly filled with laughter as the movie’s chaotic antics unfolded. For the first time in a week, you felt a little lighter, the ache in your chest dulled by the comfort of their company.

"Okay, but how does no one realize there’s a tiger in the bathroom until it’s too late?" Nick asked between bouts of laughter.

"Because they were all blacked out, genius," Matt replied, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him.

"Still. I would’ve noticed a tiger," Nick said with mock seriousness.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy freaking out over a missing tooth."

Chris chuckled beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. When you glanced over, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the screen.

It happened again a few minutes later during one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You caught Chris watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression soft, almost worried.

"Chris," you whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

"Yeah?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

"You don’t have to keep staring. I’m okay," you said, forcing a small smile.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I wasn’t staring."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I just… You seem different tonight."

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you quickly shook your head. "Just tired, that’s all."

Chris hesitated but nodded, letting it drop. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," he said softly.

"Thanks, Chris," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the movie continued, you tried to focus on the humor, on the familiar warmth of being with the triplets. But Chris’s quiet concern lingered in the back of your mind, making you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he saw through the smile you were trying so hard to keep.

As the credits of The Hangover Part III rolled, Matt stretched with a dramatic yawn and stood up.

"Alright, I’m done," he announced, rubbing his eyes. "If I watch one more scene of Alan’s nonsense, I might lose my mind."

"You lost it a long time ago," Nick quipped, earning a glare from Matt.

"Whatever. I’m going to bed. Night, Y/N," Matt said with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

Nick was quick to follow, gathering his blanket and pillow. "Yeah, I’m out too. Y/N, make sure Chris doesn’t make you watch some artsy indie movie if you guys stay up," he said with a wink.

"Goodnight, Nick," you replied with a soft laugh.

As their doors closed, Chris turned to you. "It’s pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "You sure you’re okay to drive? You could crash here if you want."

You hesitated, but the idea of going back home, back to the empty room where every corner reminded you of betrayal, was unbearable. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys."

"Y/N," Chris said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "You could never bother us. Stay."

You nodded. "Okay. I’ll take the couch, then."

Chris got up and grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet. He draped it over you carefully, his hand lingering on the back of the couch for a moment. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Chris," you said quietly.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

"Goodnight."

As soon as he was gone, the silence of the room felt overwhelming. You curled up under the blanket, the warm fabric doing little to shield you from the cold ache in your chest.

You pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction, but the sight of an unread message made your heart sink. It was from your sister.

Why are you ghosting me? We need to talk.

Your breath hitched as the words blurred on the screen. She had the nerve to text you, to act as though everything could be fixed with a conversation. Fresh tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for the triplets to hear. They didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to tell them.

In his room, Chris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him. You’d been quiet, more than usual. The message you sent earlier had been short, almost hesitant, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week.

Chris frowned, running a hand through his hair. He hated seeing you like this—guarded, distant. It wasn’t like you to pull away, not from them.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But it was no use. His mind kept replaying little moments from the night—the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you flinched when he asked if you were okay, the way you seemed to deflate the second Matt and Nick left the room.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was sure of it.

Back in the living room, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears kept coming. The betrayal, the pain, the gnawing guilt of not telling the triplets—it all felt like too much.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your sister’s name on your screen, her message taunting you, demanding an answer you couldn’t give.

You wanted to tell Chris, Nick, and Matt everything. You wanted to spill it all, to let them comfort you like they always did. But the words felt trapped in your throat, too heavy to say out loud.

And besides, they were probably asleep by now.

What you didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t asleep. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about you. And something told him he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Sleep just wouldn’t come. His thoughts kept drifting back to you—your forced smiles, the way you’d seemed a little too quiet all night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

With a sigh, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 2:37 a.m.

"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He decided a Pepsi might help, so he padded quietly out of his room and into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The kitchen and living room were joined, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you.

As he opened the fridge, the faint sound of a muffled sob reached his ears. Chris froze, his hand hovering over the soda can.

He turned his head toward the couch, his brow furrowing. The room was dim, but he could see your figure curled under the blanket, your shoulders trembling.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping away from the fridge.

You stiffened, biting your lip to keep any more sounds from escaping. But it was too late—he’d already heard you.

Chris approached the couch slowly, his heart sinking at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Without a word, he sat down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

You turned your head away, wiping at your face furiously, but Chris wasn’t having it. Gently, he laid a hand on your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

"Hey," he said softly. "What’s wrong, hm?"

"Nothing," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Y/N," he said firmly, though his tone remained gentle. "Please. Tell me. We both know something’s hurting you. You can tell me anything, I promise."

You shook your head stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Chris sighed but didn’t pull away. "Okay," he said after a moment. "How about this? If you don’t want Matt or Nick to know, I won’t tell them. Whatever it is, it’ll stay between us. I swear."

You hesitated, his words making the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, letting the blanket fall to your lap. Chris stayed close, watching you carefully, his concern etched across his face.

Your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Jason cheated."

Chris blinked, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

"And it wasn’t just with anyone," you continued, your voice breaking. "It was with my sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence felt suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Chris found his voice. "Y/N..." he started, but his words trailed off, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

Chris sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. His mind reeled at your words, trying to process the betrayal you’d just revealed. But as he looked at you—your trembling hands, the tears that streamed down your cheeks—his shock quickly gave way to something else: protectiveness.

Without hesitating, Chris moved closer, sliding an arm around your shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to spiral.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say… but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Not from him. And definitely not from her."

His words broke something loose inside you, and the tears came harder, pouring down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt. You buried your face in your hands, your body trembling as you let out the sobs you’d been holding back for days.

"How could they do this to me, Chris?" you choked out between sobs. "My own sister… she knew everything—everything Jason and I had been through. And she still—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Chris felt a sharp pang in his chest. Seeing you like this—completely broken—made his blood boil. He wanted to storm out, to confront Jason, to demand answers from your sister, but he knew none of that would help you right now. Right now, you needed him here.

"They’re both selfish," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "They didn’t think about you at all, and that’s on them. That’s not your fault, Y/N."

You shook your head, tears still streaming. "But it feels like it is… I keep thinking, ‘What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?’"

Chris grabbed your hands, gently pulling them away from your face. "Hey, stop that. Don’t do that to yourself," he said, his tone more intense now. "Jason cheated because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to value someone amazing when he has them. And your sister…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She’s the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not even a little."

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the shame—was too much.

Chris seemed to sense that. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled you into a hug, wrapping both arms around you tightly. Your head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin lightly on top of your hair.

"Just let it out," he murmured, stroking your back in soothing circles. "I’m right here. You don’t have to hold it in anymore."

The dam broke. You clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely, your tears soaking into his shirt. Chris didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you tighter, his hand continuing its steady rhythm on your back.

"It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "Cry as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t. Chris stayed there, holding you like you were the most fragile and important thing in the world. Even as your sobs wracked your body, he remained calm, offering the kind of quiet strength you desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like time stood still. Slowly, your crying began to subside, your breaths becoming less ragged. But Chris didn’t let go, not until he was sure you were ready.

The warmth of Chris’s embrace began to steady your breathing, though your body still felt heavy with exhaustion. Slowly, you pulled away, your hands resting in your lap as you avoided his gaze. Chris leaned back slightly, giving you space, but his concern didn’t waver.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, your cheeks streaked with drying tears. Chris reached out, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear that lingered.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?" he said softly, his voice warm and steady. "It’s been a lot tonight, but it’s going to get better. I promise."

You nodded wordlessly, lying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. The headache from crying so much throbbed behind your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how tired you felt.

As you settled in, you expected Chris to stand and head back to his room. But instead, he surprised you. Without saying a word, he shifted to lie down behind you, sliding in close and wrapping an arm protectively around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, startled by the gesture. "Chris… you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to," you protested, your voice soft and hesitant.

Chris’s hold didn’t falter. He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head and hushed you gently. "Shhh," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

His words, spoken with such quiet determination, made your chest tighten. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, though this time they weren’t from sadness.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris." Your voice cracked slightly, but you meant every word.

He gave your waist a small squeeze. "Always," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in days.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going to leave finally allowed your body to relax. The headache and emotional exhaustion took over, and before you knew it, your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris stayed awake a little longer, watching over you as your breathing evened out. He held you close, his heart breaking a little as he thought about everything you’d gone through. But more than anything, he was determined to be there for you, no matter what it took.

Finally, a small, tired smile crossed his lips as he rested his head against the pillow, letting sleep claim him too—right there with you in his arms.

The morning light crept through the blinds as Nick shuffled groggily into the living room, his eyes barely open. He stretched with a yawn, heading toward the fridge for something to drink. As he turned toward the couch, he froze mid-step.

At first, he blinked a few times, convinced he was still half-asleep. "What the…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes dramatically. The sight before him—Chris curled up behind you on the couch, his arm draped protectively around your waist—was not something he’d ever expected to see.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. After a moment of staring in disbelief, he turned and bolted down the hall.

"Matt!" Nick hissed, bursting into his brother’s room.

Matt groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Nick, if this isn’t an emergency, I swear—"

"It is!" Nick interrupted, shaking Matt’s shoulder. "You need to see this. Like, right now."

Reluctantly, Matt sat up, his hair a mess and his expression sour. "This better be good," he grumbled, throwing the blanket off and following Nick back to the living room.

When he caught sight of the two of you on the couch, his annoyance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

"Is that…" Matt started, leaning closer to get a better look.

"Yup," Nick whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and amused.

"Did he finally make a move?" Nick asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know," Matt replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… doesn’t she have a boyfriend?"

Nick frowned, looking at Matt. "Yeah, she does. At least, I think she does. So… what’s this about?"

Matt shrugged, his brow furrowed. "No clue. But they look pretty cozy."

Nick pulled out his phone, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Should we ask them? Or should I just take a picture for evidence?"

"Definitely a picture," Matt said, smirking.

Nick nodded, holding his phone up and aiming the camera. Just as he was about to snap the shot, his fingers fumbled, and the phone slipped from his hand.

The loud clatter of the phone hitting the floor echoed through the room, and both you and Chris stirred.

Chris blinked awake first, squinting against the light and taking a second to register what was happening. He glanced down at you still in his arms, then up at Nick and Matt, who were both frozen like deer in headlights.

You woke up a second later, groggy and disoriented. "What’s going on?" you mumbled, sitting up slightly and noticing Chris’s arm still loosely around you.

Nick recovered first, quickly scooping up his phone. "Uh, nothing! Morning! Just… you know… didn’t mean to wake you guys!"

Matt, however, wasn’t as subtle. "So… are we gonna talk about this, or…?" He gestured between the two of you, his brows raised.

Chris rubbed his face, clearly trying to think of a way to explain. "It’s not what it looks like—"

Matt snorted. "Really? ‘Cause it looks like you two were cuddling all night."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we not do this right now?"

Nick crossed his arms, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now."

Chris’s body stiffened as he quickly sat up, his expression suddenly serious. His protective instincts kicked in, and he shot a sharp look at Nick, his voice firm. "No, Nick. Seriously. Drop it. It’s not the time."

Nick froze, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in Chris’s tone. He wasn’t used to hearing his brother so... intense. But before he could ask anything more, his gaze shifted to you.

You had your face hidden in your hands, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. That’s when it hit Nick. It wasn’t just a casual morning moment between friends. Something was wrong.

Matt’s playful smirk faltered, and his eyes softened as he noticed the tears trailing down your face. His teasing nature immediately gave way to concern. "Y/N…?" he began, but Chris cut him off before either of them could say anything else.

"Look, this is serious," Chris said, his voice still low and full of emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he turned toward Nick and Matt. "You guys don’t know what happened."

Nick looked at him, unsure. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, sensing the weight behind his brother’s words.

Chris glanced over at you, his heart breaking as he saw how upset you were. He didn’t want to push you, but he also knew you needed support. "Y/N gave me permission to tell you guys," he said softly, then turned to face Matt and Nick fully. "Jason—her boyfriend—cheated on her. With her sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Matt and Nick both looked at each other in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Nick whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "He… cheated on her with her sister?"

Chris nodded, his jaw tight with anger. "Yeah. And I know she’s been trying to keep it together, but it’s been eating her up. She didn’t deserve any of this." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of what you were going through becoming even more apparent as he spoke.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the sting of their stares but too drained to care. Chris’s hand remained on your back, offering what little comfort he could, but you could tell this was a lot for Matt and Nick to process.

Matt was the first to speak up again, his face hardening. "That’s messed up," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "She doesn’t deserve that." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Y/N, I’m sorry."

Nick nodded in agreement, though his voice was still filled with disbelief. "I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sniffed and looked up, finally meeting their eyes. "I didn’t know how to. It hurt too much. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it." Your voice trembled, but you tried to hold it together. "I just needed some time to figure out what to do."

Chris gave your back another reassuring rub, silently telling you it was okay to let them in. He looked up at Matt and Nick, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She needs our support right now, not questions. So please… just… give her space if she wants it."

Matt nodded solemnly, his usual teasing nature now completely gone. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice softer than before. "You’ve got it, Y/N. Whatever you need."

Nick hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone."

You nodded weakly, still feeling the sting of everything that had happened. But for the first time in what felt like days, you felt a small flicker of hope. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, maybe things would start to get better.

Chris’s arm tightened around you once more, offering the quiet comfort of knowing that, for now, you weren’t alone in this.

The room fell into a quiet calm, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Matt and Nick gave you the space you needed, no longer pressing you with questions. Instead, they offered small, reassuring smiles, letting you know they were there—ready to support you however you needed.

Chris, still sitting close beside you, rubbed your back comfortingly, his presence a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave your side. The warmth of his touch brought a small, but much-needed sense of peace.

After a few moments of silence, you took a shaky breath and finally looked up at Chris. "I don’t know what to do… or where to go from here," you admitted, your voice still thick with emotion.

Chris met your gaze with understanding in his eyes. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now," he said gently. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Maybe you didn’t have the answers yet, but you weren’t alone. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, you knew you had the support to get through this.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking again, but this time with gratitude.

Chris smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Always, Y/N. You’ll never have to go through this alone."

As the day began to unfold, you and the triplets spent the rest of the morning together. No more talk of Jason or your sister—just the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by people who cared. Slowly, the pieces of your heart that had shattered started to heal, one moment, one breath at a time.

And for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of hope for the future, knowing that with time and support, you’d find your way through the pain.

[venomwrites]

She is trying to remember where the kitchen is when she hears the sound. 

Sobbing. 

Vi is at the door instantly, ear pressed against it. It’s so faint. Before she can think too much she twists the doorknob and prepares to put her shoulder through the door. But the knob twists and the door opens as Vi throws herself into the room. She was going to avoid it as long as possible, the weight of what they planned in this room is still crippling. Her eyes fly over to the wall where they planned all their sins. She’s had so many fucking nightmares about standing here. Agreeing to everything, suggesting shit. All of her home was displayed on the wall and she focused on it being there like it belonged. Like she could belong. Instead of focusing on what really mattered. 

The plans litter the floor now. 

The have been torn down frantically. The long map clings to the wall with a single pin and falls to the ground. The edges are torn and pulled apart, some of the layers almost translucent. The magnifying glass is laying cracked on the ground, like a split eye. When Vi steps forward glass crunches under her boot. Pins scatter the floor as well. Some puncture red string. That’s not the only red. Blood dots some of the paper as well. It’s fancy paper, something Vi had no idea existed. It feels heavy in your hands and it’s just thick enough that if you run your fingers along it wrong it slices them. Caitlyn’s too practiced to slice her fingers on paper. Or she was. 

Above it all, Caitlyn stands by the fire.

Weeping. 

Blood from her cut fingers streaks down her face. Some of it mixes with her tears and paints pink streaks down her cheeks. Vi has spent months dragging grease down her own face, painting black lines where Caitlyn now cries pink. Her hair is wild and unbound. If Vi had to guess there’s blood there too. Vi knows she shouldn’t be here. Caitlyn looks at her in tearful shock when she throws herself into the room. But she’s so worked up that even if she fights it, her inhale is shallow, hitched and wet. Her next exhale is a sob. 

That breaks Vi’s stupor. 

She crosses the room to Caitlyn and bands her arms around her. Caitlyn tenses and then melts into the embrace. Her fingers clutch the back of Vi’s shirt as she wails her grief and anger into Vi’s chest. They’ve been here before. They were so different back then. So much has changed between them. But not the way she brings her shoulder up and tucks Caitlyn’s head against her cheek. Not the way Caitlyn lets go in the safety of her arms. It’s not a few sobs this time. This is months of pain and rage and grief. This is the bridge, the way her mother’s eyes stared up at her unseeing. The way it felt like the wind had been knocked out of her like she fell. 

Vi pulls Caitlyn with her to the couch and draws her into her lap. Caitlyn goes willingly, fits herself around Vi and just weeps. She sobs ugly, guttural sounds Vi didn’t even think Caitlyn was capable of making. She soaks Vi’s shoulder and the crook of her neck. Vi can feel wetness travel along her ink. Vi’s tattoo was a promise wrapped in grief. Now Caitlyn adds hers to it. Vi imagines the pink tears turning the flare smoke violet. Her hope for her sister meeting the very real consequences of her actions. It all bears down on Vi’s shoulders. But Vi’s been training her entire life to cary the weight. If only someone will give it to her. Caitlyn chokes on a word and Vi cups the back of her neck. 

“S-she said—she said maybe I was strong e-engough to forgive,” Caitlyn gasps around sobs, “I don’t!” She lets out a wordless wail, “it hurts—“

“I know, I know,” Vi says. Caitlyn lets out a sound that might be a protest and starts to tense, “my parents,” she reminds her, “Enforcers.”

Caitlyn collapses back against her at the reminder. The fresh wave of tears spread to Vi’s spine and drag down her back along the tower. Down to the base of her spine like the base of the Lanes. Where she came from. Even though Vi has spent her entire life trying to go back to a place that no longer exists, she has gone home. And each time, each fucking time, she finds Caitlyn there. Each time Caitlyn hefts her over her shoulder and each time they fight their way out. She would have bet money the last time was the last time. But she thinks now if she were to run back there again, somehow Caitlyn would find her eventually. They would fight their way back together. Caitlyn takes another great gasping sob and lifts her head to look around at all of their sins. But Vi slides her hand up and guides her back. 

“Not now,” she says.

“But—“

“It’s not going anywhere.”

The guilt is a knot in her own stomach. She went along with this when she knew better. When she thinks back it makes her stomach crawl. Everything Vander said about being a leader rings false. Caitlyn was the leader but Vi feels the weight of their sins all the same.  She knows every paper that lays scattered around them. She pinned some of them up and told herself the feeling in her guts was guilt over what Jinx did. Not guilt over what she was doing. Jinx is the instigator but Vi was the shrapnel. Jinx builds the bombs and Vi hands her the crystals. And somehow Caitlyn is caught in that explosion. Jinx runs, Vi hunts and somehow the blood that winds up on the paper is Caitlyn’s. It doesn’t justify anything. Nothing can justify their actions. But the truth of it glistens up at her, bathed in the fire’s glow. 

Caitlyn weeps herself to the point of exhaustion. Until she’s too tired to do anything but rest her head against Vi’s shoulder and sniffle. She’s so tall but in that moment she feels impossibly small against Vi’s chest. Vi keeps one arm over her knees and the other curves around her shoulder, one hand by her elbow. The black turtleneck is pushed up and her pale skin is flecked with blood. Even though she has sobbed endlessly, tears still trickle down Caitlyn’s cheeks. The blood is dotted against her forehead. In a twisted way it almost looks like a crown. Or the edge of her beret. Caitlyn lets out another shaky breath but her inhale only has the slightest hitch.

“I thought she would stop me.”

Vi brushes her thumb against Caitlyn’s elbow. Her voice is faint and hoarse, she seems too tired to think about what she should say. The words just spill numbly out. Vi doesn’t know who is supposed to stop her. Before she can think to ask, Caitlyn squeezes her eyes shut and presses her face into Vi’s chest, her hand clenching the cotton. 

“She always stopped me when I went too far.”

Something in Vi’s heart cracks as Caitlyn dissolves into sobs again. She can picture Caitlyn’s mom so easily. The way she looked exasperated at Caitlyn staggering home dressed like that with a girl. Even then Vi got the distinct impression she was not the first girl Caitlyn brought in through the balcony. There had been love there. Even then. Even with all the wealth and privilege there was love between a mother and a daughter. But there had been something else. A string between them with a bead rolling towards Caitlyn. Caitlyn wasn’t just her mother’s daughter. She was her heir. Her mom didn’t just have to raise her, she had to make sure she was ready. She has no problem imagining Caitlyn’s mom looking at the map of Zaun Caitlyn concocted and scolding her for it. She’s dead, Caitlyn saw her body. And some part of her still believed her mom would appear when she went too far. 

“What would she say?” Vi asks as Caitlyn’s sobs turn dry and pained. Vi can feel the panic starting, “hey,” she says, trying to draw Caitlyn’s attention, “tell me what she’d say.”

“Really, Caitlyn” she mumbles into Vi’s shirt, “hasn’t this gone far enough?” Her breath hitches but she drags a proper inhale, “then she’d send me to go shoot while someone cleaned the mess up,” her fingers tighten in Vi’s shirt, “while she cleaned my mess up.”

Caitlyn can be so painfully young sometimes. Vi has spent her life vaulting over empty chasms with only the hard ground below. She has to land on the other side or her skull will be cracked open. That risk has never been a part of Caitlyn’s life. She’s always had safety net after safety net and somewhere below that is a soft mattress like one on her bed. The fear has never even crossed her mind. It’s never had to. As they sit there surrounded by Caitlyn’s blood and grief, it occurs to Vi that this might be the first mess Caitlyn has ever had to clean up on her own. Her father is a ghost, her mother is gone. Ambessa’s taunts are in the back of Vi’s mind. Her absence isn’t the only vacuum here. She sits with Caitlyn until her breathing is steady enough. No panic, no sobs. She stops rubbing her thumb along Caitlyn’s elbow and gives it a squeeze. Caitlyn shifts her head upwards. 

“Let’s clean this up,” she says. 

“No,” Caitlyn sits up and wipes at her cheeks, “no, I’ve asked enough of you. Gods—”

“Hey,” Vi puts her hand on her leg. 

Her fingers touch the scar she knows is hidden under Caitlyn’s pants. Caitlyn knows it too. She drops her hands into her lap. There’s fresh blood on her face now from her cut fingers. Her tears cut through some of it, but some of it stays. It makes the monster Caitlyn has become even more real. There’s no pretty lies here, no impenetrable facade. There’s just grief and pain and guilt. Vi uses her other hand to touch Caitlyn’s chin and bring their eyes together. The tears and the blood trickle along Vi’s knuckles. But Vi doesn’t care. Her hands have been bloody her entire life. 

“Lets do this together.”

Caitlyn hesitates for a moment and then finally gives a small, miserable nod. Vi pushes herself up before she can change her mind. They feed the fire with torn plans and photographs and bits of red string. Navigating on half memories Vi finds the small box and begins to drop the pins in. Caitlyn finds a bigger box and collects the pieces of glass. They work together quietly, mumbling warnings to each other when they discover something sharp. They work together and reveal the room hidden underneath the hunt. When the last pin is put away, the last sketch burned and the last piece of glass dropped in it’s box, the lean against the couch and look at the empty board. 

There’s still some glass dust on the floor, still drops of red, but it looks a lot better. Caitlyn holds the cracked magnifying glass against her thigh and rests he head against Vi’s shoulder. 

“It looks so strange,” she says quietly, “so—“

“Empty,” Vi finishes. 

The effects of the board still echo around the city. They will always echo around it. It seems unfair that what they planned here could have such an effect but this won’t. All the glass and blood and pins and the world outside the window is unchanged. Broken. Broken in the way that they broke it. But the board is empty now. Room has been made for something more. Something new. For the first time since she came back here, Vi feels something like hope start to churn in her gut. Her hand covers Caitlyns where it rests on top of the glass. 

The board is empty and there’s so much to do, but Vi lets herself wonder what they’ll put on it next. 

[moonstruckmoony]

So a long while ago @lamieboo tagged me in this post (I'm not reblogging bcs it'll be way too long sorry 😢) I made some art and wrote a whole one shot for it because it was the perfect opportunity for a Winter lore I've always wanted to make. Please be kind lol 💀 I haven't written in ages and I'm such a noob when it comes to writing, also English isn't my native language. I had to run my draft through multiple writing tools back and forth to find better phrasings and dictions that better express what I want to convey. Roughly ~1,000 words.

Green and Gold

She stepped forward as the wardrobe creaked open, the boggart slipping through the narrow gap in the door. Long, flowing golden threads emerged first, and Winter drew in a sharp breath.

The rest of the boggart soon took form—a woman in a pale blue dress, slumped weakly on the floor, her calf bleeding from a deep slash. Golden locks framed her worried face, and her piercing blue eyes, so much like Winter’s own, locked onto hers. Winter’s hand instinctively went up to the scar across her left eye. The woman’s chest heaved with silent breaths. The faint murmur of the students lining up behind Winter faded until she could hear nothing. Then, the woman’s lips parted, as if to speak.

“Close your eyes, snowflake.”

Was that truly her mother’s voice? Winter couldn’t remember if boggarts could speak. Could they mimic human voices? Or was it only mouthing the words while the voice echoed from somewhere deep within her mind?

Her hands went clammy. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. 

She knows what’s coming next. Behind her mother’s beautiful, tear-streaked face, a blinding green light appeared. Winter swiftly squeezed her eyes shut and raised her wand. “Riddikulus,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she kept her eyelids tightly closed.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · · Sebastian went pale, even as the swirling Mallowsweet leaves spun into a twister before him, which without question, the most mesmerising form of the Riddikulus charm he had ever seen. It wasn’t a form he would laugh at, unlike most transformations of the charm. It was breathtaking. But no, what had truly gripped him was the green light that followed her mother’s appearance. He had never seen Winter like this—paralysed by fear, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. She was always so composed, so captivating. Full of life, curiosity, and wonder.

He hadn’t realised this was her deepest fear.

And it was the very same curse he had cast just last year. On his uncle. Right in front of her. What had she looked like back then? He couldn’t quite remember. The sound of her laboured breathing lingered faintly in his mind, and he recalled her standing frozen for a moment before following him as he fled the catacombs. But the look on her face—he had no memory of it. Was she shocked? Horrified? Traumatised? He had been too distraught, too consumed by his own turmoil, to notice. Merlin, how must she have felt? Watching her best friend cast the Killing Curse—the very same curse that had taken her mother’s life—right in front of her? His throat went dry. His insides twisted painfully. Clenching his hands into fists, he dug his nails into his palms.

Was this… was this the reason she had refused to learn the spell? Not that he had wanted her to; in fact, he had been relieved when she didn’t. But it left him with questions. She was his kindred spirit, after all, and he knew the Dark Arts intrigued her, even if it was purely out of curiosity and for the sake of knowing. She wanted to learn, and had learned the other two curses. He had thought, perhaps, she would eventually ask about the last one, even though he wasn’t sure if he could bear to teach her—not after what happened to Solomon, to himself.

To Anne. But she was adamant in her refusal to learn it. She had said so out of the blue, when they began speaking again after the catacombs—after weeks of silence between them. Now, he finally understood why. And his heart broke for her. “Sebastian? Sebastian, what just happened?” Ominis’ voice snapped him back to reality. His best friend’s face was filled with concern, surely anxious for not being able to see what’s happening. Just this time, Sebastian is glad he couldn’t. He wouldn’t want Ominis to witness her in such a state. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He tried again, but his gaze drifted to Winter, who was slowly making her way towards them from the front of the line. Another student—Arthur Plummly, perhaps—stepped forward to face the boggart, but Sebastian hardly noticed. His focus was solely on Winter, her head bowed, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body trembling slightly. “Winter…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. They stood there for a moment, locked in each other's gaze. “I… I’m sorry.” He finally managed to speak. “What... what are you apologising for?” So much. Even though he’d already apologised to her and Ominis countless times, he hasn’t apologised for this one. “You—you know why.” He knew she understood. They’d always had a way of reading each other, and this was one of those moments. “That’s… It’s not—you shouldn’t…” She trailed off. And Sebastian was thankful she didn’t finish. Because he did feel like he should apologise. Even though hadn’t known about this, what he did that day might’ve stirred up memories she had buried deep down. Just like the cursed boggart had just now. Another silence passed before he slowly pulled her into an embrace. One hand rested on her back, the other gently cradling the back of her head. She froze at first, startled, but after a moment, her body softened into his arms as he tenderly stroked her hair. From his peripheral vision, Sebastian saw Ominis approached hesitantly. His alabaster hand tentatively found Winter’s smaller one, which still hung limply at her side, and she allowed their fingers to entwine. Sebastian could see the questions lingering in his best friend’s furrowed brows, but he’s certain that Winter would talk to him–she would explain everything to them when she’s ready.

He glanced forward, aware of the curious eyes from the students waiting in line—some watching with intrigue, others with quiet sympathy. It was a peculiar view, after all: Winter with her two best friends huddled together in such an unusual position. Up front, he caught sight of Amit ducking as his boggart morphed into harmless paper planes flying about after his successful Riddikulus. Sebastian hadn’t seen Amit’s boggart, but he imagined it was likely something ordinary, like a failing report card marked with a dreaded “T” in Astronomy or History of Magic.

None of that mattered now. The only person of importance was the girl in his arms, her trembling slowly subsiding, her once-laboured breathing easing into a soft, steady rhythm.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · ·

[fen-luciel]

The mistakes of a Acolyte

7

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him

I hadn't felt this empty for a long time.

The sensation of dry skin from all the tears shed, the difficulty breathing through my nose, the shortness of breath that struggled to stabilize.

It was like watching a child have a hysterical crisis.

Except I wasn't a child.

I had only experienced a similar pain once before. My mind had erased most of that day, I remembered random images, the fire, the rubble, the smell of burnt flesh, the black hands... small. Still...

I took a deep breath with my mouth open, before focusing on regulating my breathing. I was alone in the cabin, having instructed Sam to check for any tracking devices on the ship and Yord's communicator. The one Sol had given me had already been destroyed, thrown to the bottom of the room in a outburst of rage.

I struggled to get up from the chair, moving slowly toward the small bedroom. At this point, my entire body was aching with a dull pain. I couldn't tell what was real or what was paranoia. At first, I even thought that all this stress might have been too much for the baby. A scan from Sam showed no severe damage, but he wasn’t a medical droid, and I needed to be checked before hiding again.

In the room, I reached the small bathroom with a shower. Sam had already prepared some clothes in a corner. The sight made me smile, yet my heart tightened in a painful grip.

There was nothing sweet about all this. I was miserable.

A wounded animal in need of care. Weak. Physically and mentally.

I turned on the faint lights above the mirror and looked at myself.

It was certainly an ironic scene. Just a few hours earlier, I had been in the same situation on the Jedi ship and then alone in this bathroom, which was very similar to the previous one, but everything was a hundred times worse.

Bloodshot eyes, a swollen, red face, dry skin, streaks of mucus on my chin, lips almost bleeding from how much I had rubbed them with my sleeve and bitten them. The vacant stare, the messy hair... I was ruined.

If I had been honest with myself, maybe I had never been healthy. Not as a Jedi, not alone, not as a Sith. But this was the bottom of the barrel.

The little dignity I thought I had, the pride, the faith... what had they led to?

I undressed slowly, my arms burning with pain, the marks on my skin evident and almost distinct in multiple colors—purple, black, red, blue, and lighter around the edges, the older ones starting to take on a greenish hue. I removed my pants and underwear, then took a deep breath. One hand gently caressing my belly, more tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I held them back.

I needed to stop. I risked harming myself. Even Sam had reproached me for putting too much stress on my body. The last thing I wanted on my conscience was to harm my child before he was even born. It would be just another failure on my part, but I didn't think I would survive the psychological consequences.

I turned on the hot water and waited for the small bathroom to warm up. As soon as the steam began to fill the room, I stepped into the shower under the warm stream. I washed slowly, partly due to my aching body, partly to enjoy a moment of peace. There were many things to do. I couldn't immediately retreat to the farthest corner of the galaxy. I needed to gather healthier supplies, recover my credits from various accounts, ensure the ship was safe from tampering, and check that I had no one on my trail.

Yes, Sam was checking and had been keeping an eye on the ship the whole time, but I couldn’t know if Qimir had gotten his hands on it earlier. Hours had passed, and I was fairly certain he had managed to escape, but he hadn't sent me any messages or tried to contact me through the Force. Everything was too calm.

Maybe he was carefully planning his next moves. After all, now he had a more important reason to keep me close. Five months ago, he hadn't let go, even though he continued his objectives, and time had passed, maybe even with the belief that I would resurface alone. But now, things were completely different.

I knew what he wanted deep in his heart, in his raw and simple desires. Revenge against those who had hurt him. And me. And now our son was indirectly the perfect symbol of his dream, the product of us both as a family, alive and corporeal.

I needed to prepare myself psychologically for what would come next. Even though it was clear my body wasn’t capable of handling it, I struggled to react to his presence. My only option was to flee.

Or if things really went south... I wouldn’t care anymore. I would report him to the Jedi Order if it meant keeping him away from my son. It was already ridiculous trying to help him once, yes, even to protect myself, but everything that came after I could avoid.

I stepped out of the shower feeling somewhat better, though the pain had not subsided at all. Washing away the tears from my face had been therapeutic. I put on a pair of loose pants and a long black robe that reached my knees, deciding to skip the underwear. I had had enough of my miserable hours, feeling the underwire of my bra pressing against my flesh was the last thing I wanted, and no one would notice the lack of underwear.

I wanted to sleep. Lie down and forget everything for a while. But I knew that if I relaxed now, I would open my eyes hours later or worse, not want to get up at all. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

It took me at least five minutes to put on my shoes by myself.

When I finally managed, I opened the bedroom door, with Sam waiting outside.

"Did you check everything as I asked?" He gave a small affirmative nod while handing me the holo pad Yord had given me.

I should have destroyed it. What would I even do with it? Contact him? If he were interested, he would have called me earlier or... no, I was delirious.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I recalled Qimir's words. He was right, I was delirious.

I went back to the cockpit, my backpack waiting on the co-pilot's seat, and with a sigh, I slipped the communicator back in. I tidied up the things I needed, decided to tuck the lightsaber into the large pockets of my pants. Since I would be wearing a cloak, I doubted anyone would notice, but I preferred to carry something familiar. Even if I didn’t use it, it would be enough to scare almost anyone, though I preferred not to show it too much.

We arrived at our destination a few minutes later. The planet was a very popular docking destination, especially for those making long trips, as the surface didn’t offer much entertainment for the inhabitants. The docking area was the main commerce zone, legal or otherwise, with a financial flow so significant that even the Republic turned a blind eye to certain dealings.

The logic was quite simple: there were multiple docking levels, marked with different colors or numbers. At first glance, it seemed just a normal numbering system, but each symbol provided specific information for dockers, and if you were ignorant of the matter, you just had to look at the colors.

Green = legal

Purple = illegal

I landed on a lower level, a purple platform with some tool symbols painted on the side. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and, accompanied by Sam, descended the ramp calmly. My feet cried out in pain, especially after resting for a few hours on the ship, but I ignored the discomfort. I would rest eventually.

From the landing area, there was a narrower path overlooking the void, with lights visible below on the artificial pillar. It made little sense to stop here if one wanted to visit the actual planet. Even though there were means to descend directly, it made more sense to land on solid ground.

As I moved away from the ship, I saw two Togruta approaching me with a tool cart in tow. I pulled my hood over my head and stopped a few steps from them.

“Ma’am” they greeted with a nod, which I returned. I then handed them a pouch with some credits, which they tucked into their pockets.

“I need to buy some supplies, but I have a few doubts. I would like you to check the ship internally and externally for any tracking devices or tampering. If you find something like this, please inform me immediately” They nodded before handing me a small device with two lights.

“If we find anything concerning, we will immediately trigger the red light. We assume that any external device will be destroyed if found...?”

I nodded. "Of course, I expect the utmost discretion" I said, and resumed walking. However, one of the two men called out to me, "Excuse me, if you need supplies, my brother runs a shop on the floor above. Right next to the elevator, yellow sign. He has a bit of everything... even some extras if you ask"

I nodded again, and we parted ways. I reached the elevator and decided to take a stroll to see if I could find anything useful. I gathered some credits in various pouches that I slipped to the bottom of my bag, careful not to be seen, and passed by the shop that had been suggested to me, paying a droid to bring the supplies directly to the ship until I decided to stop at a small restaurant.

A counter overlooked the kitchen, with a dozen neatly arranged tables outside. It had a slightly dated appearance, but it was nice and, above all, quiet.

I ordered something simple, and it arrived quickly since there weren't many customers. I ate while waiting for the signal from my ship. People and aliens of all kinds passed before my eyes, but I could barely focus. I was distracted, confused, and not hearing from Qimir was eating me alive. Was this his plan? To torture me with silence? To wait until I let my guard down or to drive me insane?

As I finished my meal, a female voice from a nearby table caught my attention. "Congratulations" a woman in her fifties smiled warmly at me. I immediately recognized her armor as part of one of the bounty hunter clans scattered throughout space. She gestured toward my stomach, and looking down, I noticed that seated, my belly was quite noticeable due to the shirt that had rolled up around my hips.

I placed a hand on my stomach in a small caress and forced a tight smile. "Thank you." I hoped the conversation would end there, but clearly, the woman wanted to chat. "How many months along are you?"

I held back a sigh. It wasn’t her fault I was irritated, I didn’t want to respond rudely, and it was better not to anger strangers—you never knew how they might react.

"Fifth... almost sixth"

I had also finished eating, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse. I could have gotten up and left, but I wanted to enjoy sitting there as long as I could, I still didn’t know how long it would be before I was called back.

"How lovely, you remind me of my first pregnancy. My husband and I were so happy..." She looked at me as she got lost in her story. She was a beautiful woman with copper-red hair tied up, a few gray strands in the middle, and wrinkles that showed her age, but she was so charming that it was barely noticeable. Not to mention she was clearly a trained woman.

But what was she doing here alone? I recognized the armor well, they were usually in small scattered groups. I didn’t recall seeing anyone else with the same clan symbol on the floor, nor had I seen her talking to anyone before...

A shiver of fear struck me.

She was here hunting someone. And now... she was talking to me... it couldn’t be true? Had Qimir put a bounty on my head so quickly? Or maybe he had contacted some private party he knew and...

"Hey, girl, are you okay? You look pale, do you need a hand? Is there someone with you?"

I gripped the edge of the table nervously, my other hand slowly reaching for the lightsaber in my pocket, Sam at my feet, ready to attack if necessary.

"Are you here for me?" I asked bluntly. If we were going to confront each other, it was better not to beat around the bush.

She looked at me puzzled for a moment, then her face lit up in realization. "Oh, no, sweetheart, believe me, I was just on a break before joining my people and... wait, are you in trouble? Who would send bounty hunters after you?" She gave me a closer look before seeing the glint in my pocket. I hid the lightsaber, but it was too late.

She looked taken aback for a moment before sitting in the empty chair at my table, leaning slightly forward. "Are you a Jedi?!" she whispered. "Oh, honey, how did you get into this mess? The cloak reminded me of something, but I didn’t think it was like this..."

I looked around nervously, but no one seemed to pay attention. "I... it’s complicated" I didn’t feel like correcting her, it was better not to reveal too much information, especially to a stranger. She didn’t seem to have bad intentions, but it was better not to risk exposing myself too much.

She sighed.

"This is what happens when you raise kids away from the world. Tsk. No offense, but I never liked your Order. What happens with kids and then... was it intentional at least?" She asked, indicating my belly.

I shrugged in response. I didn’t want to feel like I was being interrogated by a stranger or, worse, criticized for my choices. The idea of going down and waiting at the docking platform crossed my mind.

She exhaled slowly as she leaned back in her chair. "And him? Another Jedi?" I looked at her from under my hood and nodded. She rubbed her eyes. "Tell me you’re waiting for him here, please."

The indirect mention of Qimir by the woman at this point seemed like just another joke from the Force.

I held back a tear, quickly wiping it away, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the woman. I continued nervously looking at my hands in my lap, Sam beside me, whistling sadly.

There was a few seconds of tense silence before she spoke again. "Listen. Let’s start over. I’m Eleena, and you?"

I told her my name in a faint voice.

"Alright, Sabrina. Do you have a plan? A place to stay? Do you know what to do?"

I nodded. "Do you think the Jedi are looking for you? They don’t seem like the type to chase a pregnant girl, despite everything..."

I sighed, distressed. The whole conversation made me uncomfortable, but I was glad to get a bit of understanding after all this time, especially from someone outside all the Order and the Force’s mess.

"It’s... a complicated matter" I started moving the plate in front of me with a finger in a nervous gesture, continuing not to look at her, afraid of feeling judged. "Okay. Then I’ll ask you another question. Have you had any check-ups recently?"

I cleared my throat. "Last month, I wanted to go here, but I saw I had to register at the counter and other procedures, so I didn’t feel up to it..."

She calmly got up from the chair, hands on her hips. "I know another place here. A man who helps bounty hunters. I’ll take you there, and you get checked out, okay?"

I looked at her in surprise.

Was she serious? Was she really helping me? Could I trust her?

"But why...?" She offered me a hand to help me up. "I told you, I’m a mother too. We should help each other, right? And besides, I’m always happy to stick it to the Jedi"

We walked through the market area, reached the elevator again, and went down two floors to the workers' private area. A guard stopped us, but as soon as he saw Eleena, he made a gesture and let us pass. The area looked more like a really disorganized warehouse, with a few tables scattered around and various people on break eating or dozing in chairs. We reached the end of the corridor and went through a side door. There was a small corridor with white walls and another door at the end.

Eleena knocked, and after a moment of silence, the door opened. A massive man, perhaps around two meters tall, welcomed us and let us in.

It was clear that they knew each other. They exchanged a few words while I looked around, still followed by a curious Sam. The place was a storage room cleaned and reorganized as a medical room. Despite the heavy air, it was... nice.

In the end, I managed to get the check-ups I needed. Fortunately, I was fine, although the droid that gave me a quick scan announced the few bruises on my arms and a high stress level in my body. Eleena gave me an intense look but said nothing. I tried to pay them for their trouble, but the man refused, saying, "Friends of my friends are my friends"... or something like that.

Just in time to receive the signal on the communicator, I could finally board the ship and leave. Eleena decided to accompany me to the landing area. I returned the device and paid extra for some minor repairs that had been done.

"I don’t know how to thank you. I didn’t know where else to go. I was thinking of buying a medical droid on the way home" I stopped in front of the ramp as Sam opened the hatch and boarded to check the supplies that had been loaded.

"It’s all right. I’m glad to help, really. The galaxy is already full of assholes, and doing a good deed every now and then doesn’t hurt" I held my hands under my stomach before giving a small bow with my head. "It doesn’t matter. Thank you for everything"

I started to board, but she stopped me. "Listen. I won’t ask for anything else, but I think I have an idea of what’s going on with you. Tell me the truth, it’s just you and the droid, right?"

I bit my lip before nodding.

"Then take this. I don’t care if you use it or not. I feel better knowing you can contact me" she handed me a holo-pad which I took hesitantly. "If you need to kick some Jedi ass, my people and I are here. Even for free, believe me, it would just make us happy"

I looked at her for a few more seconds before pulling off my hood and giving her a gentle smile, perhaps finally more at ease after all the tears shed. "I won’t forget this"

We said our goodbyes, and I finally boarded the ship, reached the controls, and started the engines. The holo-map was lit up next to me, with Sam asking where we wanted to go as he analyzed the various marked locations.

"I don’t know. Maybe somewhere it snows" I whispered more to myself than to him as we flew out of the atmosphere.

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you Make it | Part 20

So now, he was sat in a car, with a rich older man.

To some little queer boys, this would be a dream come true, especially since the older man wasn’t half bad in terms of looks, that all American square jaw, strong nose, the works. Plus… rich.

But this wasn’t a rich older man whisking him away, no, this was Steve Harrington’s regularly absent father taking him grocery shopping.

It’d been a wild day.

“So…” Eddie didn’t do well with silence. Silence never sat right with him. Had to fill it somehow, be it with silly noises, random singing, or conversation with any person in his vicinity. “They uhm, they do that often?”

“It’s a family thing, I think we’re all as bad as each other.” At least he was self-aware, the eldest Harrington still watching the road as they drove through the small town, he knew where he was going though, each turn done as if he’d driven the route enough to do it blindfolded. “Lynda’s a lawyer so, that should explain that” loved being right, it was her job to be right, even if she was actually wrong, she had to make out like she was right and she did it well. “I’m a middle child” explained both everything and nothing at all, “and Steven… I think he got a little bit of both of us. I’d have thought you’d be used to that though, since you’re dating him.”

“Ah-haha, I mean… don’t get me wrong, I’ve always known about Steve’s uhm… how to phrase this… mean girl streak?” John snorted a little laugh, emboldened, Eddie continued, “he’s like everyone’s disappointed mother, always with the little—” Eddie shifted in his seat, just about managing to put his hands on his hips and cock them weirdly in place “pose that he does when he’s oh so very disappointed in you. I used to thrive on it back in high school, whenever he’d catch Tommy H or the other basketball goons bullying the kids, he’d just stand there like he’d caught his kids with their hands in the cookie jar, an they’d actually just… cower, like he could actually do anything to them. It was the funniest shit I’d ever seen.”

It'd actually been quite the surprise when that’d happened the first time, it didn’t happen often, Steve had been a douchebag, not the ‘shove your head in a toilet’ kind of douchebag, or the ‘shove Gareth in a locker’ kind of douchebag.

No, he was the mega bitch douchebag who could flash a smile and drop every set of panties in his immediate vicinity, he was the douchebag who KNEW he could do that. Who carried himself high with the knowledge, lording it over everyone without… ever actually lording it, it was a presence kind of thing. An attitude.

And maybe, occasionally, he’d have been the douchebag who didn’t really see anyone unless he wanted to see them, didnt really pay any attention to those not on his radar, those not in his friend group, which led to many an accidental shoulder check, which had in turn led to Eddie’s own personal little vendetta because he’d lost one of his prized mini figs to the underside of the Hawkins High trophy case when Steve had walked by a little too close and shoved him just hard enough to send Eddie’s shit flying.

Had just kept walking as if he hadn’t even seen him. Asshole.

It was only when he’d first been seen hanging around Wheeler that his personality had shifted toward something reasonably human. Thanks Wheeler, the sacrifice of your time and patience hath created a god among men.

“So he was never… bad then?”

“Nah” no sense bad mouthing the boyfriend, that wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Real Prince Charming in a perfectly pressed polo shirt. He’s amazing, sir… you have nothing to worry about with Steve, he’s… one in a million.” Now anyway.

“Good. Good.” And then he fell silent, the quiet stretch lasting nearly five minutes with only the faint music playing on low volume from the radio to fill that silence, until the eldest Harrington pulled the car into a quiet carpark, and parked. “Here we are!” Oh thank Christ.

“We can't keep doing this.” Steve was the first one to speak up during their mutual living room silent treatment, finally looking at this mother after nearly an hour of watching a gentle snowfall that’d started outside. He hoped it wouldn't get heavier before Eddie got back.

“I have no idea what you—”

“Mom.” Steve cut her off, his eyes sharp and tone firm. “We can’t keep doing this. This bickering, this who’s right who’s wrong shit, we’ve gotta stop, at least here.” If not for their own sanity, but for the image he was giving Eddie of his family life.

Of what he might possibly maybe be getting himself into if Steve could actually swing a real relationship by the end of the week. The chances of him saying yes were already pretty farfetched, but if Steve’s parents were their worst selves…

Why would Eddie want to subject himself to that long term?

She paused, expression unreadable, something she’d mastered years ago for the court room, then she sighed. “I know, Steven.” She sighed heavily “Sometimes I forget that you’re a grown up now, that you can argue right back and actually stand your ground.” It only felt like yesterday when he was tugging uncomfortably at the little bowtie they used to make him wear for special occasions, all dressed up looking up at them with those big hazel eyes of his. His childhood only felt like yesterday. “I miss when you were cute and just did as you were told” she sniffled. Back when his parents had been there regularly before their duties had pulled them away. Before distance had strained them and they missed everything. Steve rolled his eyes but said nothing as his mother continued “Anyway, i agree. I think I’d prefer it if Eddie didn’t go away from this trip thinking John to be the most mature of us.”

“God, could you imagine?” Steve shook his head to free himself of the truly harrowing thought, allowing the subject to change. “I really like him, Mom... I didn’t expect to at first, not enough to want something long term with him anyway...” He’d thought it’d be easy to just pretend with him at first, but Eddie just had this... thing about him, Steve didn’t really know how to explain it, he just felt like home. Maybe it should have been alarming as to how fast that’d happened but... Steve had always rushed into things, funnily enough he didn’t think Eddie minded. “So I’d really like it if he liked all of us by the end of this, an if he only likes Dad cause of our bullshit, I think I might just disown the both of you.” The last part said in jest but... god he’d never let it go.

He’d lockjaw it until the end of time, would take it out on special occasions and shake it in their faces like look what you did. Look at what you cost me.

“Honestly, sweetheart I think I’d disown myself.” Lynda laughed, the air finally lightening up a little between them. “Here, how about we go see if the maintenance men pilfered the wine cellar? I’m positive Mags was hiding a damn good red down there among the cabernet that I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to go to waste...”

“Well... we probably should check it... just in case, y’know? For security reasons.” Not that he actually doubted the integrity of the maintenance crew, they’d been employees for years, they’d known his grandparents, had worked for them in their later years when time had started to catch up to them, and a steady gig passing through generations wasn’t something to scoff at.

“Security, absolutely.” But then, the contents of the wine cellar alone was probably worth more than the actual house, so… better double check.

For security reasons.

Part 22

[amortentia-over-ice]

The Remedy - Garreth Weasley x F!MC

SUMMARY: Garreth knows the exact cure for your hangover. And plot twist: it's not one of his potions.

Warnings: 18+, Characters aged up. Mention of Drinking. Smut. P in V.

Word Count: 2.5k

You stumbled back into the Gryffindor common room, bleary eyed and forcing yourself not to look at your pocket watch. It hardly mattered, however, considering that you could already see the sneaking suspicion of the sunrise as purple streaks colored the sky through the tower window. 

You were still absolutely pissed off of your face, courtesy of the giggle water and fire whisky, so you thought nothing of it as you started stealing pillows off of the common room couches. Giddily, you found a corner of the room and stacking them around each other. You giggled as you looked at your work of art in progress.

YOU were going to make a PILLOW FORT...NOT sleep in your own bed like some regular loser. This (your drunk mind decided) was a far better option. 

Clumsily, you army crawled your way in once every pillow had been added to the massive pile, wrapping your robes around you to serve as a blanket you let out a contented sigh, shoving one last pillow against the hole you crawled through, promptly falling asleep in your cushioned little hovel. 

A few hours later…

“....Did the house elves do that?”

“A little redecorating perhaps...?” 

“Redecorating? Gar. Please.”

Garreth Weasley was hardly listening to Leander prattle on as he thoughtfully regarded the odd pile of pillows in front of him. It was interesting, he noted, that the pillow pile had magically appeared the same morning that Natty had mentioned to him you hadn’t returned to your dorm last night. 

He had already been worried that Sebastian had somehow kept you too late...or worse...that he had somehow snuck you into the Slytherin dorms instead. 

But then...as he heard a faint snore emanate from within the pillows, he gave a slight, but relieved, grin. 

“Right, then.” He sighs as he sits down patiently in front of the pillow fort, conjuring two mugs with steaming hot tea.The smell of peppermint drifts into your cave, your favorite.

You stir with a groan due to your monstrous headache, and the next thing you hear is Gar’s cackle right outside this odd structure you had found yourself in. 

Naturally, you had a very foggy idea of how you ended up in a pillow fort.

You poked your head out to find Gar grinning at you, holding out a mug to you in offering. How could he look so endearingly at you while you were SURE you looked like a pile of hippogriff dung? 

“Er– morning! By the way, I’m going to kill Sebastian for this.” He says in a  light voice entirely too cheerful for your current headache. You smirk at the slightly out of character threat to your mutual friend. Sebastian had been known to get the both of you into similar states more than once in the past. 

You sigh and shake your head, “It’s not totally his fault. I can’t ever resist a dare from that Scottish fool. Which I guess makes me one too.” You conceded in jest, but still  you accept Gar’s offering gratefully.

Your lean on your elbows, taking a gratuitous sip of the peppermint, sighing at the warmth as it soothes your throat. 

He raises his mug to yours, as if in a cheers before taking a sip as he cracked open his potions book. Most of the students had left at this point as classes had already begun, but clearly Gar must have guessed you’d be here a while. 

Finally you spoke, eyeing him suspiciously, “You’re being awfully nice to me for someone who just woke up in a pillow fort. No questions you want to ask over there?” 

He chuckled before shaking his head, taking another sip of his tea patiently as he continued to read. 

Your eyes narrowed further. 

“Does the book mean you’ll be here a while then? You might be waiting a while before I leave this cave, just so you know. The levels of shame are high.” 

He smirked again, taking another sip.

“Oh me? Just drinking my tea.”

You laughed ruefully, “Right, so I can assume you're not just here to gloat at my hungover state then?” 

This time, he slurped his tea even louder. 

“Gar.” At that accusation you glared again and he laughed as he ducked the spare pillow you threw at him. 

“Relaxxxxx.” He teases as his lips curl in another grin,  “Seems like we may be here a while. Perhaps more tea?” He says smugly as he refills his mug, and you give him another eye roll. 

“You know...I’m going to have to get you back for that. And no amount of tea is going to keep you safe from me.” You add teasingly from your pillow throne. 

But then, his eyes meet yours with just the slightest bit of mischief glimmering behind all that green as he says, “...And what if I don’t want to be?”

Your smile matches his, playing along with him as you softly ask, 

“Be what, Gar?”

You watch as he smirks, sets down the tea and crouches down to you at eye level. Up close you can almost count his merry freckles, even as curl falls in his face his eyes stay on yours.

“If I don’t want to be safe from you, silly.” 

Your grin deepens as you reach forward to tug him down by his tie. 

“Careful. I bite.”

“In that case, move over.”

He doesn’t hesitate before he’s following your tug, crawling right into your space, arms and legs all a tangle as you both laugh at the fact there is not a single graceful way to maneuver yourselves with the limited space in your pillow cave. 

His breath is hot as he laughs mere inches from your own face, and you fall over off balance, but his arms are quick as they snake around your lower back and tug you close.

“C’mere.”

His voice is playful, but his hands are firm as the sudden and eager movement makes you lose your breath as a small laugh escapes to match his own. 

“So bossy today.” 

You cuddle into him, following the line of his body and letting a deep sigh go as you find the spot you’ve fit into many times before. 

Gar lets out a contented hum, just as pleased at the feel of you against him, settling back against you as he runs an idle hand through your hair. 

“So lazy bones, shall we just hide in here all day?” He says softly into your hair as your fingers play at his collarbones. 

“Why? Have somewhere to be?” 

“No…not any place I’d rather be, anyway. Perhaps I should have brought you one of my new concoctions to help that hangover.” 

He murmurs so close to your ear, that he feels you shiver against him and he smiles. 

“...Or perhaps another remedy for you today...?” His hand trails up your side slowly, until it finds your chin, your lips. His thumb draws across your lower lip slowly, and all of a sudden you are very, very awake. 

“I’d much prefer the second option. Your potions always have a weird aftertaste of grapes.” You whisper as you scrunch your nose, and he leans forward to nibble it. 

“Tsk, Play nice.” The look in his eyes as his mouth hovers near yours is anything but hurt, especially as they flicker down to your lips. 

“I can do that.” You breathe slowly as you lean forward, wrapped in his arms, and in the warmth of your cave, your lips touch his without a care in the world…hangover forgotten. 

He presses back immediately with a small sound, his lips part for yours slowly, as if taking his time to taste you. His hands wrap into the fabric of your shirt tighter, while quickly moving to tug the fabric upward to reach the warmth of your hips.

Your half working brain is already going: yes, yes, yes.

Your torso mindlessly arches into his palm that continues to touch every inch of you slowly and gently. He makes a grateful noise as you move against him.

You and Gar were friends, after all. The very best of friends. The type of friends who could do this…. And do it well. 

“Someone seems to be feeling better,” He mumbles, giving you a half smile between your kisses, that are far from stopping, as he lifts your shirt over your head, and you tug the buttons from his. He pulls back quickly, only to help you shrug it off his shoulders, before he is back on you again, devouring your neck. 

You gasp, leaning back for him as his lips are preoccupied with hot, open mouthed, kisses along the column of your throat, and finally your hands are in those wild red curls as you hold him there. 

“Gar!” You sigh in surprise, and he just stops to give you a wicked grin before coming back to your neck, your ear.

“What? You asked me to help you feel better didn’t you?” 

As his hushed tease brushes against your ear, his hand sneaks down your stomach, to your thigh, casually bunching up the fabric of your skirt in his hands. 

“Yes.” You manage to breathe out, and it’s an answer to two questions. At your words, his palm hooks your fabric to the side, dragging up the wetness already there with a sigh.  You rock into his hand greedily and he obliges with a finger slipping  into you gently. Now you’re moaning, and he’s rocking his own hips against you.

Somehow, you manage to note that you DID build a good pillow fort as it’s somehow staying together despite the way the both of you are climbing all over eachother, with no regards to much except tearing your clothes off.

Your hand reaches towards his trousers and she shifts for you, tongue slipping into your mouth as he enthusiastically slips a second finger into you, the feel of him stretching you causing more of a mess as your hands reach for his cock. 

He’s already impossibly hard and ready. You. swipe your thumb along the bead of moisture from his tip with a smile, and he jolts into your touch. You use the stickiness of it to drag the moisture down his shaft and he moans into your mouth. Cheekily, and because you can, you use your other hand to cup his balls and bring him closer into you. 

“M-merlin, you can’t keep doing that,”  He mumbles in a rush, his breath mixing with your own panting, as his fingers continue to get the same reaction from between your own legs. His fingers become slightly less gentle, pressing deeper and faster inside you. You fight a moan as it slips through your lips, your hands accidentally tugging on Gar’s curls. 

He makes a noise, and your eyes snap open your words rushing out, “I-I’m sorry I-”

Gar’s mouth catches yours to cut off your protest, “No, don’t stop. Please.” 

He enjoys the feeling of your fingers in his hair, eyes rolling slightly  back in his head as he feels your nails. Then he realizes he doesn’t know who needs the “remedy’ anymore. You. Or him. 

He feels his skin flushed all over from everywhere you're touching him and he takes in a shaky breath before moving clumsily to get closer to you, removing his hand from you to snake down to your thigh to shift you open to make room for him. You oblige, shifting for him, leg lifting to hook around his hip. He hungrily comes back for your mouth, but you move at the same time.... you both accidentally bump heads. 

“Oops.” You whisper, you both giggle, and he finds it so adorable that he can’t help but kiss your lips again as his hands fight to tug his belt off, trousers down. Suddenly, he sinks back against you, his hard cock pressing between your legs as his hips rock, teasing, to rub against you. 

“Oops.” he whispers back with a wicked grin, and you only respond by tugging him closer by his hair again for another hungry, open mouthed, kiss. 

His hands find your face, a hand gingerly wrapping around your cheek. Everything pauses for a moment as he finds your eyes. A long breath before a subtle nod from you, and you don’t look away from him as you feel him press into you. 

Your mouth falls open, face twisting in sweetness and his expression conveys the same. He breathes out slowly, feeling your warmth close in around him. It's almost too sweet for anyone to bear, and yet he is the one lucky enough to try.

His forehead falls against yours, and your lips rise to meet his quickly between your huffing breaths as he moves deeper.

“Are you oka-”

“Yes. Merlin yes.” 

After some resistance, you find your body is not only taking him, but begging for more. 

You can hardly breathe before he tilts your jaw back to him, for another kiss, before his hips begin to move further. 

The sounds of the both of you fill the small space with shaky breaths, your bodies finding a rhythm as you rock back and forth amidst all the pillows. In the secret space, there is only you and him, and whatever cure you were looking for, you don’t think anything is better than this. 

Your breath comes faster, and his name fills your lungs. 

He loved the sounds you made, so much that he’d already lost himself in them. His strokes become steadied, determined, his free hand wraps around your lower back to anchor you and keep you against him and his pace. He sank into you again, and again your name a breathless whisper into your ear. You can do nothing, but lift your hips to meet him. 

At the slight change in angle, your eyes flashed as your body twisted in pleasure, 

“Gar.” Hearing his name from you in such a way elicits a choked “fuck” from him, before a rush of breath as he instantly recognizes the need in your voice. 

His thrusts became less steady, more demanding, a low groan from his mouth watching you under him, his hair wild and falling in his face as he doesn't dream of stopping. 

Your body seizes, nails digging into his skin, and nothing can compare to the wave of nerve endings firing, penetrating each of your senses. 

He holds you through it, pressing deeper into you as you writhe against him 

And then suddenly he slams flush against you, a groan of your name as he comes hard and fast. The arm that holds him up is shaking as he huffs, a few tremors working through him in the aftermath. He falls against you in an ethereal haze. 

You're both recovering, lost in the haze, the smell of the both of you taking over your small hideaway. 

He turns towards you, his smile uneven. You smile back, brushing his hair gently out of his face. 

“.....I do feel much better now.” You whisper cheekily, and he huffs a small laugh, 

“Mhm.” He tugs you back over for a few more cuddles, glad to hide away from the rest of the world with you as long as you could. 

[wackapedia]

Just One Day

Aemond Targaryen x reader Aemond gets his oh moment when his betrothed gets really ill and is at the brink of death Word count: 1871 words Warnings: being sick, mentions of death, an attempt at fluff

Aemond lets out an exasperated sigh as he walks with his betrothed in the gardens of the Red Keep. Beside him is his betrothed, Lady y/n, who had to take a seat by the shade, saying she's feeling 'A bit faint'. The ladies at court tend to do this all the time around him, pretending to faint just for him to hold them a little longer, some obnoxious attempt at flirting. He scoffs at your pretense of ailment, although your colour does look quite pale. The prince hesitates, debating whether this was just another ploy. That is until you collapse on the bench. Aemond just quick enough to catch your head from hitting the seat. He takes a few moments to study you, wondering if you've gone the extra pretense of being unconscious just to be in his arms. So the prince just leans there by the bench, your head in his arms, waiting for you to come to your senses, waiting for the telltale signs that your act is ineffective. Waiting for your eyes to move under their lids, for a smile on your pale lips, or just a movement of your fingers resting on your belly. Alarms finally sound in Aemond's head when his arm feels the temperature of your neck. A gasp escapes the prince's lips. He quickly lifts you in his arms, almost too easily with his strength, marching back to the cool castle interiors and asking the servants to fetch the maester, and then your lord father.

For a few days, Aemond does not hear about you. He presumes you're recovering from whatever infection you had. The prince was ashamed to admit to himself of thinking you had ill intentions in the first place. Now, he’s too proud to ask his mother or anyone else about you. Although he would walk very slowly by your quarters, trying to pick up bits of conversation from the maesters or from your maids. At night, Aemond finds himself including you in his prayers. If it was guilt or real concern, he couldn’t tell. He'd stay up a little longer, thinking, hoping for a tomorrow where he'd scowl at the sound of your laughter, or at a melody you'd conjure up in your lute, playing from your balcony. The very second Aemond wakes from his dreamless sleep, he felt that something was wrong. The clouds dim the morning sunlight and a strange chill engulfs his surroundings. In a hasty dread, he dresses himself and heads to your chambers. The room was empty. Basins of water, towels, unfinished meals, and small bottles of tonics remain abandoned on tables on all sides of your bed. Clothes, books, trinkets, and little remnants of your belongings gather dust in one corner of the room. A grim and blue disposition altogether. A gasp of horror followed by a meek apology breaks Aemond's trance. Standing at the doorway, a maid mutters 'I thought you were a ghost!' to herself. 'Why would there be a ghost in the keep?' The prince wonders, but decides against asking impertinent questions. "Where is she?" He asks. "The Lady y/n has been moved to the tower closer to the Sept, Your Grace." Aemond wastes no time and leaves. "Aemond, what are you doing here?" Alicent calls out catching the one-eyed prince by the stairs. "I want to see y/n. Where is she?" He sternly questions his mother. "Why has she been moved here?" Alicent takes his son's arm, walking away from the group of maesters, and a septon, preparing to give you your final rites. "She's not getting better, Aemond." The maesters don't think she'll make it through the day."

"I have to see her." The first thing Aemond notices inside the bleak room are the bouquets of roses around your bed. Your deathbed. The prince sits at the lone stool next to your bed, taking in your peaceful visage. Despite the somber weather, white sunlight streaks through the lone window of the room, bathing you in a holy white glow. Aemond lays his hands on the bed and begins to pray, slowly inching his fingers toward yours. "Are you crying for me, dear Aemond?" Your hoarse voice interrupts the sorrowful prince. Aemond's eye opens, realizing he had indeed been crying in prayer. "For a moment there, I thought you were the stranger, and that you'd come to take me." Your tone of voice was light and almost humourous, if only you weren't on your deathbed. "The stranger has no face." Aemond wastes no time in correcting you. You muster a little laugh that cheers him up. "The stranger uses the face of its victim's beloved to lure them in." You state plainly. Aemond chooses to say nothing. He looks away in denial. Denial of your affection or of your imminent death, no one can say. "Are these your favourite flowers?" He asks after a while, gesturing to the bundles of roses. "No. Dandelions. Especially the ones from home." You smile at the memory. "I'm afraid I've been away from home for far too long." "I'll take you there on dragonback. When you get better." Aemond doesn't miss a beat, offering you something he's never offered to anyone else before. His voice was full of hope despite what his mother said about your declining state of health. "You can't bring a dragon to Dandelion Bay, Most especially your dragon! You'll blow all the flowers away!" You muster a scold to Aemond as you rest your eyes. At this, Aemond panics. "On horseback, then." He stutters. lightly squeezing your hand and silently hoping to see the brightness of your eyes once more. "Mhmm… No wheelhouse?" You ask after taking a deep laboured breath. "No. My betrothed will be well enough to ride with me." Aemond says with so much conviction. The room is too silent. The prince strains to pick up the sound of your breathing. "Aemond..." You whisper, voice weak and dry. Aemond moves to sit on the bed next to you, your hand clasped in both of his, close to his chest. "Yes?" Aemond almost wanted to add a term of endearment. "I am releasing you from the betrothal arrangement." The prince maintains eye contact, a thousand thoughts running wild. "I accept," he answers rather quickly before continuing. "but only if you get better." Despite the aches of your body, you find it in you to wince at the prince's illogical statement. "What difference will it make?" You find the strength to question him. "I'm trying to save you from the trouble of having a dead fiancee!" "I have no want for a dead fiancee. You have no choice but to get better." Aemond must think he's so fucking clever with his reasoning. "You're insufferable! Do you truly hate me to deny me my death wish?" You sit up a little higher in your bed, withdrawing your hand from his. "I thought I hated you but it's quite the opposite!" Aemond blurts out a statement that's not doing favours for his argument. Just then, a knock on the door disturbs the both of you. A group of maesters and a septon enters. Aemond storms out of the room exasperated. Overwhelmed by the number of people entering, you try your best to make yourself presentable, swiping back the mess of your unwashed hair from your sweaty face. 'He's just so insufferable!' was the only thought coursing through your aching head. The maesters fuss over you, feeling the temperature on your sweaty forehead. "Looks like your fever has broken, lady y/n." The maester states. A chorus of "Truly?" and "Thank the gods!" ring through the once mournful tower.

Aemond spends the rest of the afternoon inside the sept. His sister Helaena came by and prayed with him for an extended period before having to leave to prepare the children for dinner. In the silence of the chapel, the prince analyzes his feelings for his intended. Why had he reacted so unreasonably? Why does he even care? It's not like he's in love with- oh. Aemond interrupts himself from his prayers. That can't be right. He stares down at his own clasped hands, illuminated by the candles in front of him. He dons a confused expression, figuring out his own prayer like it was an arithmetic puzzle. And then, the sound of wooden heels clicking in rapid succession echoes against the stone flooring of the sept. The steps were too heavy to be his sister's, too quick to be his mother's. Aemond turns to the doors to find see his beloved, looking very much alive and recovered. Bathed, and dressed in a dark red supper gown. Not Aemond's favourite colour but still appealed to him simply because it was you. "Guess what, Aemond? I'm well now. And guess who's no longer betrothed? You and me!" You march down the aisle toward Aemond who rose from his seat at the frontmost pew. For a second, the scene was reminiscent of a daydream he would never admit to. As you near your former betrothed, you notice the confusion on his face fades into a smile. He stands there, hands clasped behind him, waiting for you to reach him. And then, he smiles. It was an odd sight, Aemond smiling. Certainly not unwelcome, just odd. "What is wrong with you, why are you smiling?" You ask the prince, clapping your hands in front of his handsome face. He finally stops smiling as he pulls away from your disruptive clapping. "I am glad to see that you've recovered." He states in his normal Prince Aemond voice. "Right." You say after a brief awkward moment. "Well the wedding's been called off before it was formally announced, good news for us, and I'll be heading home as soon as I'm in excellent health..." Aemond nods in agreement. "It is all thanks to you, really. If you didn't argue with me on my deathbed, I wouldn't have broken a sweat and..." You trail off, reprimanding yourself for speaking so informally with the prince who is no longer your betrothed. You wanted to extend a hand for him to shake before you parted ways as unlikely friends but the situation feels too awkward. He was holding back a smile, tightly clamping his lips together, like there was something funny about you almost dying. Deciding against the handshake, you lower your head slightly instead, an awkward rendition of a curtsy before you leave him where he stands. Two days after you arrived at your family's domain, you were finally allowed to visit the place you missed so dearly. An infinite field of dandelions as far as the eye can see - Dandelion Bay. The weather was perfect for a picnic so you prepared a blanket, a basket of snacks, and a book to pass the time. The hours went by peacefully until you were interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. You drag your eyes from the pages of your book to where the sound was coming from. A lone horse and not an army. That's a good sign. Despite the threat of war and invasion, you couldn't be bothered to worry about a single rider. A messenger, perhaps? A call for your men to join a cause? Another offer for your hand? Dandelion Bay wasn't the path if you needed to speak with your lord father, so which idiot decided to ruin your picnic? You lower your book as the horse's treading seemed nearer now. Surprise, surprise. ---------------------------------- A/N: first fic i wrote on paper (in really neat cursive),then typed it on my computer and then got rid of the papers lol EDIT: Sequel now out!