#this fandom is exhausting and i’m glad we’re wrapping up

[mad-as-a-box-of-frogs]

Continuously romanticizing Meg no matter how abusive she was to TFW but also saying Mary was just as bad as Lucifer was apparently the best twitter had to offer tonight.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Your Protector

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steven Grant/Marc Spector x GN!Reader

Summary: Sometimes when Steven feels like something bad will happen, he let’s Marc step forward to protect you.

A/N: it’s late again. It’s really fucking hot right now at like 1am. I can’t sleep because of the heat so i wrote this Steven/marc fic that just came to mind.

Steven has his arm wrapped around your waist as you two walk up and down the aisles at the grocery store. Steven never really liked to run errands, but ever since he started dating you, he found them to be much more enjoyable.

“Maybe we can get you some flour so we can make pancakes or waffles when I’m staying over, “you gasped in excitement, “or cookies!”

Steven chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple, “Whatever you want, love.”

You continue to chat with Steven, each of you voicing your opinion of what you should get for Steven’s flat. You walk a little up ahead of Steven as he picks some tomatoes. For some reason, the hairs on the back of his neck stood and he slowly looked over his shoulder. HE saw a man with a hood, staring back at him, holding a basket, but no items inside. Steven felt uneasy. He looks over to the window, seeing Marc staring back at him in the reflection.

“We need to go to Y/N. Now.” Steven gulps and nods. He places the tomatoes back down. It takes him a few seconds to let Marc come to the front. Marc rolls his neck and shoulders and proceeds to briskly walk over to you.

He wraps his arm around you and murmurs, “We need to go.”

Zeroing in on Marc’s stern, American voice, you looked at him, “What’s going on, Marc?”

“We’re being followed. Steven let me come to the front to get us out.”

“What should we do?”

Marc licks his lips and you see him trying to think as quick as he can, “We’ll pay for what we have. When we walk out, you’ll get to the car and you’ll drive back to my place without me.”

You look at him with concern, “But what about you?”

Marc smirks cockily, “You know I can take care of myself, babe.”

You roll your eyes, “You know I’m not concerned about you.”

“We’ll be okay. I promise.” He gives you a reassuring nod and then escorts you to the till to pay.

You and he take the groceries to your car where you set them in the trunk. Marc glances over his shoulder and see the man from earlier walking towards you two. Marc hurries you into your car and he promises to see you soon.

As you speed out of the parking lot, you see Marc throwing punches at the man in your rear view mirror.

________________

You’ve tried to calm yourself down ever since you got to Steven’s flat. You tried to make lunch, but couldn’t focus. You turned on the television to help distract you, but it didn’t do much. Your leg bounced in anticipation, you chewed on your lip, looking at your phone and then the door every five minutes. It wasn’t until two hours later that the door opened.

You jumped to your feet and slowly walked over, “Marc?”

“It’s me,” Steven rasped out. His body hunched over, his entire being look disheveled and exhausted.

You reached out, gently placing your hands on his face, “Are you okay? What happened? You were gone for so long and I was scared-“

“Marc was ambushed. There were more men waiting for us in the parking lot. It was good he had you leave. If you didn’t…”

“I’m okay,” you whispered in reassurance, “We’re all okay, Steven,” you peck his lips, “Thank Marc for me, okay?”

He nods, “He knows how much you mean to me. You’re important to us. I’m glad that he’s around to protect you.”

“I am too. Now go take a shower. I’ll heat up the lunch I made earlier.”

“See you in a bit, love,” it was Steven’s turn to peck your lips and you watched as he trudged to the bathroom.

_________________

You’re re-plating the food when Steven walked out of his room, hair damp, a white tshirt and black sweats on. You looked up and realized his demeanor was different. You knew he wasn’t Steven right now.

“Marc?”

He nodded, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. ‘M fine. You had me worried since it’d been a few hours. But I’m fine. What was that all about anyway?”

“Oh ya know, being a mercenary means I make enemies and all that,” he replies nonchalantly, moving towards you to grab the plate of food you prepared, “Thanks for making lunch.”

You placed a hand on his arm, “Marc…should I be worried? Should I, I don’t know, buy a gun? Take defense classes? What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” he replies with a shake of his head, “If you want to do any of those things, be my guest, but I’m letting you know, as long as I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re important to us.”

“Okay,” you say because you’re not too sure what else there is to say. You do feel a bit relieved knowing that Marc would do anything to make sure you’re safe. Your protector.

[sociallyawkwardseal]

Prompt: Lovetober 9: Blood+Fictober 9: “Sounds like a you problem.”

Fandom: School Bus Graveyard

Summary: A conversation that happens shortly after Ashlyn passed out.

Content Warnings: Blood, head injury, mild ankle/foot injury, mild swearing

Words: 421

     “Think she’s alright?” Tyler asked, the back of his head flopped against the wall of his seat.

    “Ben got all of the blood off of her face and is getting her bandaged up, and Taylor said that she had a pretty bad gash on the side of her head…” Logan said from the seat across from him. “And Aiden’s not leaving her side at all.”

    “Figured as much.” Tyler sighed, and with his exhausted, aching arms, pushed himself up to lean over the back of his own seat. “Hey, everything alright back there?”

    Ben barely raised his head—one hand still holding bandages secure, the other, once slowly and steadily wrapping a bandage around Ashlyn’s head, now pausing as his gaze left her.

    “We’re pretty much fine!” Taylor called back, carefully holding Ashlyn’s head steady. “Ashlyn’s still out of it, but she’s breathing, so.”

    “My ankle hurts like hell, though.”

    “Yeah? Sounds like a you problem.” Tyler snorted, looking past the top of the seats and at the four. “Don’t do stupid shit.”

    “Is that your way of saying that you care?” Aiden laughed; he held Ashlyn’s hand in his own, and rubbed his thumb across the back of it. “I mean, it’s kind of a harsh way, but I don’t think you’ve got anything else to worry about. Not after tonight.”

    “I’m just glad that you’re both alright…” Logan said. “I actually don’t know what we would have done if I had missed that shot.”

    “Yeah, well. You didn’t. So don’t worry about it, just be proud of yourself.”

    “Yeah! Tyler’s right for once in his life—”

    “Do you take every chance you get to make some kind of jab at me?”

    Aiden shot a half-teasing grin in Tyler’s direction.“Oh, I could poke way more fun at you if I wanted. But like I said, he’s right—you don’t need to worry about what might have happened, things are fine now!”

    “You should try taking your own advice.” Tyler sighed, slowly slumping back against the wall. “How freaked out are you? That you could have gotten her killed?”

    The question was edged, but not inherently pointed at Aiden.

    “Ouch, you could probably phrase that a little better.” Aiden hollowly half-laughed, his smile wavering a bit. “But. I’m still kind of freaked out. Just glad she’s alright, you know?”

    “You didn’t mean for her to get hurt.” Taylor glanced up and away from Ashlyn just long enough to offer a small, kind smile at Aiden. “Talk to her sometime tomorrow about it?”

[apocalypticgargoyle]

hello! can i request an imagine where george gets *very* jealous of the reader and he goes all touchy and silent? perhaps because they're a thing but not in a relationship yet and he knows someone who has a thing for them? thank you :) i love your blog sm💝

i made George and the reader kind of fwb i hope that's okay?

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐃. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: slightly toxic behavior, dream flirting w the reader, language?

You yawned slightly, your full day of work weighing on your shoulders alongside the late time of night. You weren’t sure how George put up with this almost every day, while simultaneously never canceling his plans with you. You pulled your arms through the sleeves of George’s hoodie you were wearing, folding your arms over your chest and trying your best not to fall asleep while you waited for him. He pulled your chair closer to his before climbing over you and plopping down.

You crossed your legs, your knee lying on top of his ever so slightly. It was times like this when you were exhausted and George was looking particularly soft in his sweater with his hair slightly a mess. His hand rested on your leg absent-mindedly, fingers brushing against your skin soothingly. You leaned over the arm of his chair to see what he was typing on his phone.

He started up his stream and Discord, introducing you as a friend of his as you straightened yourself up. This would be the first time you were meeting his friends, as well as the first time you could be visible during one of his streams. Usually, you just sat behind him, spamming his phone until he ended his stream and the two of you went out for food.

He explained the logistics of the way his chat and donations worked, just in case you weren’t already aware. As soon as the features popped up though, his chat went wild asking who exactly you were.

You chuckled slightly. “I’m a broke college kid mooching off of George,” you answered simply, a sarcastic hint in your voice.

A voice came through Discord. “What did you say? You’re smooching George?” His voice was full of laughter and George rolled his eyes.

You shrugged slightly, “I mean---”

“No, Dream. She said mooching, like you and Sapnap,” he muttered, firing up his game.

Your eyebrows perked. “Oh, you’re Dream,” you stated, a knowing tone hinting at some kind of innuendo that you knew the fandom went crazy for. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, seeing George’s eyes flash towards you for a split second. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Dream.”

He chuckled. “I’ve heard a lot about you, baby,” he cooed flirtatiously, making you giggle. George shook his head.

The night continues on with playful banter between you and Dream; in fact, mainly between you and Dream. After George had turned off his camera, you’d switched places with him, getting a feel for some of the controls in minecraft while Dream kept you company. During this process, George had grown incredibly quiet as he just watched you, checking his phone every so often. There were times when Dream would make a flirtatious comment and you’d find George’s fingers curling around the inside of your thigh as if to remind you he was there.

After a few hours, your tiredness was pulling your mind into a fog and George shut down the game and etc., leaving the two of you alone. He was quiet for the most part, but you wrote it off as him just being exhausted as well. He stood, leaning over you as he typed a few things and closed up shop. You leaned your head against his arm, causing him to smile softly at you in the reflection of his computer screen.

The next morning, George was still quiet, as if he were reserving some kind of deep thought from you. The two of you parted for the day, sharing only a few words which slightly worried you. Sadly, you didn’t have the time to pressure him into telling you what was on his mind. Instead, you opted to rent a movie on your way back to his place at the end of the day.

“I liked your friend, Dream. He was nice,” you stated, smiling slightly at George as he sat down beside you on the couch. His eyebrow raised, a sighed laugh leaving his lips. You felt like you were walking on eggshells, unable to say the right thing to bring his personality back.

He swallowed, letting you wrap your blanket around him. “He likes you too,” he mumbled, eyes darting to the television. You furrowed your brows as if asking him to elaborate. “A lot actually,” he continued. He ran his fingers into his hair hesitantly.

You smirked. “Are you jealous of me? Stealing your friend from you?” You joshed, hoping to lighten the mood.

One of his hands threaded into yours. You’d noticed how touchy he’d been since you talked to Dream, seemingly serving as the remaining connection between you. He chewed the inside of his cheek as if worried he was overstepping. “I know we’re just kinda… fooling around. So, if you want… I can set you guys-”

You cut him off with a snort, making his face pinch in confusion. “If I wanted to have cybersex with a Minecraft streamer, I’d literally just call you,” you batted. He was taken aback. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll start seeing Dream?” Your questions came out almost mockingly as if the idea was completely absurd. And it was.

George shrugged. “I don’t know, he’s asked me if you were single…” he trailed off.

You moved one of your arms to wrap around his section of the couch, turning towards him more. “Is it not obvious that I’m not interested in seeing anyone but you, George?” He bit back a smile as he rolled his eyes. You grabbed the front of his hoodie, tugging him inches away from you. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m in this with you,” you countered.

Pride flashed behind his eyes as if he’d had this conversation before and it’d gone sour. “I’m glad I’m in this with you,” he opted, letting you pull him closer to press your lips against his.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 6

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence, and a line that hints at past physical abuse (depending on how you choose to interpret it) Warnings: Mild TW for implied/referenced abuse Notes: Okay so this was supposed to be somewhat therapeutic? But it ended up taking longer to get to that part than I intended, so... Don't worry though, next chapter will be fluffy and also involve more, like, actual Daniela scenes. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2 Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco

Chapter 6: Elegy

(Elegy: A piece of music in the form of a lament)

When you dream, you do not dream of being locked in a tower, awaiting a kindly knight to come save you. When you dream… you dream of your old home, infested with monsters, nearly unrecognizable. Of being forced to flee, leaving everything you loved behind. Of escaping to a remote, quaint little village, only to end up trapped once again, as friendly faces morph into gaping maws and fangs dripping red. When you dream, it is less a nightmare, more memories retouched, covered in a fresh coat of paint.

Waking up is but a brief source of comfort. One hand goes to your head, rubbing gently, as if you could wipe away all traces of your past. A quick glance around your shared room leaves you confused, but serves as a welcome distraction. Though there are six beds in the room, yours is the only occupied one, the others having all been vacated and made presentable. The only explanation that fit with what you knew was that everyone had gotten up, and gotten to work, without waking you. Panic filled you as you connected the dots, knowing that missing work was a death sentence.

Rushing, you rise to your feet, throwing your dresser open to search for fresh clothes. While the castle’s staff was almost entirely female, the Dimitrescu family didn’t enforce traditional gender presentation, allowing maidens to choose whether to wear a dress or a button-up and trousers. Remembering the wound on your neck, you pause, glancing in the dorm’s singular mirror to inspect your injury. Most of the blood had rubbed off in your sleep (and would likely be a nightmare to clean from the sheets). There were, however, a few spots where dried blood mingled with the protective scab. Considering how late you already were, you didn’t believe you would have time to clean up.

As much as you hated the thought, the best you could do was go for a button-up, hoping the collar would hide the worst of your disastrous appearance. Your hair was another matter entirely, far messier than it normally was, and you struggled to brush/comb it enough to be mildly presentable. Good thing Daniela won’t see me today, you think, remembering her insistence on skipping today’s lesson.

Then you remember the rest of your conversation with her; the yelling, being dragged to your feet, and the pain in her eyes. For a moment you feel woozy, pausing in the middle of buttoning your shirt. Your eyes focus on a spot on the now-closed dresser… and suddenly you wish you had paid more attention when you first woke up. There’s a note stuck to the furniture, clearly addressed to you.

Heard you had some trouble yesterday. We’re just glad you’re alive! A certain someone has been a lot nicer since you started playing the piano, and we’re grateful. To show that, we decided to split your morning duties among ourselves, so you can sleep in. If you’re reading this, then it’s still before 4 AM. Feel free to just relax for a while, or even get some more sleep! We’ll be by to make sure you’re up eventually.

Sincerely,

Daphne, Rosalia, Ygritte, Alexandra, Juniper, and Riley

“I… have… freetime?” You mumbled, still a little drowsy, but now also shocked. This was a complete first for you. Maybe even a first among the servants! Sure, you had been given breaks before, but having a couple hours to do whatever you wanted? No one had ever pulled strings like this for you before. It made your chest feel warm, and you just about forgot the whole mess with Daniela. “I’ll have to find a way to pay them back, even if they think they’re paying me back.” With that said you relaxed a little, no longer rushing getting dressed, though still leaving your neck the way it was. You figured you’d stop by one of the maidens’ restrooms before you officially started your shift.

In the meantime, you knew exactly what you’d be using this time for: finding those damn piano books you had been promised!

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

“Let’s see… dust, more dust, a dead spider, even more dust, and- oh shit, the spider is not dead,” you said, barely holding in a yelp as the arachnid scurries away from you. If you had known the attic would be so unclean, you might not have bothered to come up here. So far your targets had alluded you without giving so much as a hint towards their location. The library had seemed a likely location, but you had heard Daniela’s voice within, and anxiety had sent you dashing away. Up here, in an area clearly used for storage above all else, was the next best guess, as far as you were concerned. Still, you hadn’t seen anything worth your time yet.

Just insects, really. Not even terribly interesting ones. Well, there had been a shiny beetle of some sort, but it had crawled into a crack in the wall mere seconds after you saw it. Other than that, though, nothing but creepy crawlies. Creepy flyers?... Both, for sure. One fly in particular kept buzzing around you, weirdly interested in what you were doing.

Somehow you didn’t understand what that meant until a firm hand had wrapped itself around your neck. The grip was tight, putting more than enough pressure to make your vision blur. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the culprit didn’t intend to just choke you out. Instead they lift you and toss you aside- casually, at that. You hit the wall with a terrible crashing sound, certain to leave bruises, and narrowly avoid toppling into a stack of heavy crates. So much for enjoying some free time, you think. Stunned for several seconds, you find yourself left helpless as your attacker approaches.

“You’re not allowed to be up here,” a voice snarled, familiar enough to leave you terrified. Of course you had to run into the most violent of the Dimitrescu sisters. “Looking for a way out, hmm? Or are you stupid enough to think we’d leave a weapon where a wretched thing like you could find it?” Cassandra asked, pausing only to send a swift kick your way. A grunt escapes you, leaves you coughing, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as hitting the wall. Despite wanting to curl up and give in, you tried to drag yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, Cassandra makes no move to stop you, perhaps enjoying the sight of you struggling.

“Lady… Daniela… gave me permission,” you said between painful breaths. By the time you’re back on your feet, the vampire before you is watching you with narrowed, albeit curious, eyes. Normally it would take a lot of courage to face her. But you’re exhausted, in pain, and you’ve taken nearly as much hurt from someone who called themselves your lover. It’s not brave to stare down Cassandra, it’s foolhardy. It’s idiotic, really, and yet you find yourself unable to care. “I’m just looking for a couple piano books I’ve been told about, so I can use them to help teach Lady Daniela.”

“Oh? You’re her instructor?” Cassandra asked, a strange smile overtaking her expression. Something in the atmosphere has shifted, dangerously, but you can’t figure out why. Clueless to your self-betrayal, you nod in response. Instantly Cassandra’s smile turns into an open-lipped snarl, and she reaches out to grab you by the shirt, this time slamming you into the wall with her own hands. “Then you’re the reason she kept me up yesterday, crying non stop! I’m going to rip you apart, you vermin.”

The look in her eyes is, most definitely, the scariest thing you had ever seen. It’s feral, inhuman, and unstoppably determined. But when tears fall from your eyes, it’s not because you know you’re about to die. No, it’s because the last thing you think you’ll ever hear is the news that your partner had been sobbing for hours… and that you were the reason why. Your heart aches, both physically and emotionally, as you brace yourself for the bloody end.

Instead, the grip on your clothes loosens. You don’t dare open your eyes to see why.

“What the fuck do you want, sis?” Cassandra asked, sounding like she had turned her head away from you. Before you know it you’ve been let go, and you slide to the ground, too surprised to hold yourself steady. When you look up, you see an irritated Bela pulling Cassandra away from you, whispering something you can’t quite hear. They argue for a minute, under their breath, keen on keeping you out of the loop. Eventually the younger of the two storms away, but not before making a dent in the wall with her fist.

“What a child,” Bela said, rolling her eyes at the display. Then she’s walking back towards you, extending a hand in an offer of assistance (one you gladly accept). “That girl has the foresight of a magic eight ball, I swear. If she had actually killed you… ugh, I can hardly stand to imagine how inconsolable Daniela would become. Then I’d have two insufferable sisters. Regardless, do tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to come up here unaccompanied? It is normally off limits for servants, after all.”

“I-I, well… I mean, firstly thank you for saving me, I had no idea-” Bela holds a finger up in a ‘shut up’ motion, then puts it away as soon as you pause- “right, you don’t care. Look, I was just trying to find the piano books that Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, but I’ve looked all over and I can’t find them, so I should really just go,” you explain, eager to get out of the attic. To your surprise, Bela gives you an odd look before turning away. Then she takes no more than five steps, shifts to the side, and opens an old cabinet. Inside you can see a dozen books of sheet music, notably from several different decades, all worn but still in decent condition. “How did-?... I thought I checked there.”

“Well, you must have been distracted. Nonetheless, you know where they are now, and you owe me twice over. With that in mind… come with me. We have things to discuss,” Bela commanded, walking away before you could protest. All you can do is grab the sheet music, tuck it under one arm, and follow her to who-knows-where.

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

“I’ll have to have you make my tea more often,” Bela mused, letting the mug keep her hands warm. The two of you were sitting in some sort of study, a room that you had never been inside before. From what you could tell it belonged solely to the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Inside were several shelves, each filled with well bookmarked collections, a desk next to a massive window, a couple simple chairs, and a few instrument cases. All in all it was an aesthetically pleasing room, organized but not exactly neat. You could certainly imagine Bela spending entire days in this chamber. “Now, why do you think I brought you here?” Her voice brings your focus back into the present moment, as well as sends a spike of anxiety through you.

“Based on what nearly got me killed earlier… Does it have to do with Daniela crying?” You asked, doing your best to indicate just how bad you felt about the subject. No matter how cruel she could be, you did honestly care about Daniela, and even wanted a real, healthy relationship with her. Desire, or willingness, wasn’t the root of the problem by any means. Something told you that Bela understood this, maybe even respected you for it.

“Guess there’s more in that pretty head of yours than air and symphonies, hmm?” Bela replied, laughing a little as she did. It was a far nicer sound than Cassandra’s maniacal giggling, for sure. “Now, I don’t know all the details about what happened- just that there was an argument, clearly a bad one, and Daniela barely made it through dinner before locking herself in her room. Luckily for you, our mother doesn’t seem to know about your little ‘fight’. She’s not sure what upset Dani, and I doubt my sister would tell her, so your secret is safe. Assuming that I blackmailed Cassandra well enough, that is. Anyway, I can’t help you, and by extension my sister, if I don’t know the full story. In case it wasn’t clear, that’s your cue to start talking.”

You’re surprised, admittedly, by a number of things. But Bela seems impatient, so you go over the details of the previous night with her, occasionally pausing to let her ask questions. The whole time her focus is on you, unwavering. There’s also a noticeable lack of judgement in her expression, even when you voice your regret about how you handled the situation, and what is there seems directed more towards Daniela than yourself. Once you finish, Bela releases a deep sigh. One of her hands goes to rub her forehead as if warding off a migraine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, as much as I wish I could. Daniela’s always had her head in the clouds, and it’s left her tripping over her own feet more than once. Still, this is certainly one of her bigger messes…” Bela said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going to have to talk to her about this, aren’t I? There’s no way she’s going to process this correctly on her own.” This time she seemed to be talking to herself, gaze locked on her tea as if it might suddenly offer to speak to Daniela in her place. When the tea stayed silent, understandably, she returned her focus to you. “You seemed upset, earlier, about this ridiculous situation. I am going to assume, from that, you are genuinely interested in my dear sister. Normally, this would be the part where I drain you of all blood, and possibly keep your skull as a memento... mori. Yours would look lovely on a window sill, I think.”

She pauses, head tilting a little to the side, clearly evaluating your artistic value.

“However, Daniela appears to care about you, far more than her usual fleeting infatuations. So, for now, I have decided not to eviscerate you, you’re welcome,” Bela cooed, teasingly, enjoying the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Still, you were glad that you would apparently be surviving the day. “So I’m going to give you some advice, which you will take, and you won’t even owe me anything extra for this. Daniela is in love with the mere concept of love- and she has been for as long as I can remember. Romance novels are practically the only books she reads. It’s… embarrassing, truly. More than that, I get the impression that she couldn’t even begin to describe what love actually feels like. She’s digested so much of that written drivel that it warped her senses. Of course, the, ahem, situation we find ourselves in, here at the castle, has undoubtedly added to this effect.

“To get to the point, Daniela’s terribly, hopelessly clueless when it comes to things like what she wants from you. And so I take it upon myself, as her older sibling, to ensure that you understand. Moreso, that you are not dissuaded. If this is an actual chance for her to experience real romance, then it could make her happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Bela explained. The look in her eyes was incredibly soft, to the point where it made you realize just how much this odd little family cared for each other. “Don’t give up, don’t let her occasional infuriating antics push you away. Given enough time… I think the two of you could, I suppose, compliment each other quite nicely. But if you break her heart? I will pull yours from your chest and eat it raw. Understood?” Gulping, you nodded quickly, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. It was one thing for Bela to want her sister to be happy, but another thing entirely for her to acknowledge your “suitability” for the position. “Good. Now return to whatever it is you maidens normally do. I have a sister to talk sense into.”

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

Hours later, you stand alone in a display room, dusting various relics from bygone times. A trophy here, a bizarre art piece there, strange, unlabeled tools you can’t quite imagine are for wine-making. It’s a fascinating collection, really. But your mind is focused on other, far softer things. All you can think about is what Bela had told you, about how Daniela really is interested in you, and how she thought the two of you could make it work. After the chaos earlier in the day, this was exactly what you needed. Just some time to yourself, working quietly, thoughts all to yourself. Even your bruises bother you less, the pain fading out into the background. Considering where you are, though, it is not at all surprising that your peace cannot last. As soon as you finish your task you move towards the exit.

The door swings open, outwards, at your touch, only to reveal a familiar figure reaching for the doorknob. Both of you gasp, taken by surprise, before your gazes meet. Of course it’s Daniela. Who else would you bump into right now?

“I thought about what you said,” she blurts, suddenly, eyes wide and hands shaking. “We need to talk, yeah?”

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Remember Me (4/???)

I AM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH. Honestly I lost a lot of motivation to write after Bloodbound because PB has greatly decreased in the quality of their books. I am still trying to find the time and motivation to write and am forcing myself to finish my series at the very least but if I am being completely honest I feel like the Kamilah fandom has died, PB’s books mostly suck and I don’t even really play choices anymore. Who knows, I’m trying to learn to write the code for episode so maybe I’ll start posting my own stories and choices on that platform with better plot, smut and less diamond focus since it would be a hobby. This chapter is ASS and mostly just moves the plot along - so if you want action I would wait for a different series or later chapter - okay bye!

Pairing: Adrian x MC x Kamilah (Amy)

Tags: I paused the tag list since it’s been so fucking long but if you want a tag please let me know because I’m pretty sure most people think this series died with me :)

Words: ~1500 (Short because I needed to finish a chapter to motivate me to finish the next)

Kamilah took a deep breath as she knelt on the floor beside Adrian, carefully wrapping her arms around her brother, her heart sinking with every sob that left his lips. She didn’t speak, she knew her words would come off too harshly and she couldn’t blame Adrian for feeling that way, after all she knew how much he loved Amy. 

“Adrian, I’m sorry. I...I truly don’t know what to say.” As their eyes met Kamilah saw exactly how devastated he was, and even in her two thousand years of life, she had never been in his situation. 

“Kamilah, do you think she’ll...well she says we’re just friends but do you think she’ll fall in love with me again?” His lips trembled, his hands shaking and his eyes glistened with tears. 

“I don’t know. As much as I believe love is a silly mortal affair, and a simple chemical reaction, it can’t be forced but I’m sure if you just be yourself and do your best to be her friend that any romantic feelings will follow.” Kamilah moved away as Adrian calmed himself, both of them passing a nod of agreement as he wiped his face clean with tissues. 

“Your wisdom has always guided me well Kamilah.” 

“I suppose that is two thousand sixty three years of experience speaking.” 

“Heh, I guess my two hundred years don’t nearly compare...” 

“You’re still a simple child in my eyes, I just took a liking to you.”

“Well, thank you Kamilah. It seems I owe you quite a bit.”

They both stood from the floor and took seats on Adrian’s office couch, Kamilah folding her legs and crossing her arms and Adrian crossing his ankles and folding his arms. 

“We’re practically siblings - you don’t owe me anything. Just try to take care of yourself and well...don’t expect anything from Amy. I’m sure this is difficult for her, difficult is an understatement. I can’t imagine what she’s experiencing.”

“Maybe I’ve been too selfish Kamilah...I’ve been thinking more about what I want from her instead of focusing on if she’s okay or what she wants.” 

“Sometimes it’s alright to be selfish, and I can understand why you felt that way but you are correct, we need to focus on what Amy wants now, not what she wanted before the accident.”

“You’re absolutely right. I can only hope for the best...I just really...I really wanted...I believed she was the one.” 

“I know you did. I wanted her to be the one for you as well, I still hope she comes back to you Adrian.”

“Me too.” 

Adrian’s phone buzzed at the same time Kamilah’s did, Lily having texted both of them to rendezvous with her and Jax at Amy’s old apartment to talk about the recent events. 

“We should go, but do you feel okay?” Kamilah patted Adrian’s shoulder as they both stood from the couch.

“Yes I think so.” They hurried to the elevator and got into Adrian’s black Mercedes as they navigated towards Lily’s apartment. Once they arrived Lily greeted them before guiding them up to the apartment where Jax waited on the couch with a beer in hand.

“Hey guys...how ya doin?” His words were slurred and he was obviously under the influence to a decent extent. 

“Tell me you have something other than beer Lily.” Kamilah grimaced as Jax took another swig of the beer. She had no problem with beer but she hated that brand and would rather remain sober than allow herself to drink that brand. 

“Yeah, vodka or wine?”

“Vodka.” Kamilah spoke without hesitation while Adrian grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a seat next to Jax on the couch. Lily began to pour Kamilah a shot, and once the glass was full Kamilah took the bottle from her and took two large gulps before sitting on the leather chair and holding the bottle with one hand. 

“So we’re here to get drunk? I thought we were supposed to talk about Amy?” Kamilah’s voice broke the deathly silence that filled the room. Adrian leaned in the door before removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and, grabbing three bottles of the cheap beer and sinking into the recliner opposite of Lily and Jax. 

“I didn’t want to drink...well grieve...alone. I mean I can’t do this with Amy anymore...well I could but it wouldn’t be the same... and I have my friend back but it’s really just...it’s not the same. I don’t know I just didn’t...you can leave if you want but I didn’t want to grieve alone…” Lily began to sob, her tears falling into her glass of wine as Jax and Adrian frowned. Kamilah held her stoic expression, but even the alcohol could not erase the ache she felt in her chest.

“I see, well I guess we all process grief differently…” Kamilah spoke calmly, but deep down she felt her own sense of grief. As she gazed around she realized how messy Jax’s hair and clothes were, and how exhausted and drained Lily was. “You guys look a mess…”

“Thanks Kamilah.” Jax drunkenly snickered and Lily sniffled. Adrian remained quiet, taking a long drink from the bottle in his hand before switching to the other glass and downing it just as quickly. 

“Does this not fucking hurt you?” Lily drunkenly scolded as Kamilah flinched ever so slightly. None of them had ever heard Lily so fragile, so devastated. She had every reason to be - she had lost her best friend - even though Amy had survived the accident, the memories were all gone and everything they had once shared was gone. 

“It...does...I was just remarking on-”

“I don’t care about your remarks, at least not now. Don’t you fucking get it? I lost my fucking best friend and I have to watch her find everything again! Do you know how that fucking feels Kamilah? I’m sure you do from all your time as a vampire, but please, for the love of god and for the sake of our friendship just shut the fuck up. I can’t handle this.” Lily’s hand gripped on her bottle as it shattered against her palm, the beer pouring onto the tile floor and seeping into the edges of the carpet. 

“I...apologize Lily…”

“It’s fine! It’s fine! Everything is fine I guess. I don’t know I just...I’m not coping well...and I feel guilty for saying that because Amy has it the hardest of us all and yet here I am getting wasted to be in her position - to forget everything while also being the person who put her in this position in the first fucking place. I don’t think it’ll ever be the same as it was before…”

“Maybe that’s for the best…” Adrian finally joined the conversation. Kamilah, Lily and Jax turned to face him as he swirled the bottle around in his hand - his brown eyes shiny from the tears that had built up. “...we all lost someone...Amy was a different person to each of us...but maybe we have to lose that person for some reason…”

“Adrian, do not try to give me that ‘it’s for the best’ bullshit.” Lily took a deep breath as Adrian shrugged. 

“I’m not. I guess it’s just the alcohol talking, but I was going to propose to Amy that night and maybe it was a sign I shouldn’t have, or maybe the world is punishing me for my sins...but fuck all of that...it’s...it’s a forgotten memory and we need to forget just like Amy...”  

---------------- Amy’s POV ------------------

It was a weird feeling that I couldn’t describe. Having people who seemed like strangers tell me all about the things we’ve done together gave me such comfort and anxiety at the same time. I wanted to believe and trust each of them but at the same time, it would be so easy to lie about it. Maybe I’m just being paranoid about the situation - nobody would really benefit from creating an elaborate story just to mess with my mind. 

God this IV really stings...and now that I’m thinking about it, my ribs really hurt too. I should call the doctor or nurse but it’s nearly midnight. I mean it’s their job but they’re humans and I don’t want to be that super needy patient…

At least that Lily girl seems genuine, I can see why I was her best friend. I appreciate her sincerity more than I can verbalize to her. I’m still wary of Jax though - that man looks like he could kill in an instant and I don’t want to get on his bad side. I’m glad they’re friends with each other though - they seem to get along really well and...Adrian. Poor bastard. I broke his heart. I broke his heart and I can’t even help it. How am I supposed to even really process that whole fucking mess. He’s so sweet and gentle and genuine and I can’t even reciprocate it back to him...but maybe with time I could…? But Kamilah...she makes my heart skip a beat too...but she’s so unlike anyone I’ve even taken interest in - callous and stoic most of the time with very few soft spots. It wouldn’t be any type of understatement to claim my heart is as confused as my head. 

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Screw It, I Love You

Title: Screw It, I Love You

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: G 

Tags: Just a lot of fluff! 

Summary: This is based of this post I saw the other day, find it HERE. It’s about Cas being newly human and Dean leaving him reminder notes all over the bunker.

Also, thanks as always to @thebridgekid for reading this <3<3<3

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

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

     Cas woke up around noon, still tired as hell and still not completely healed, but definitely better then the previous day's. Being human always took a beating on him, especially right after losing his grace, but he knew eventually he would adjust and be able to hunt with Sam and Dean again. 

     The brother’s had left early that morning to take down a vamp nest in a nearby town. He knew they wouldn't be back till late, and there was the possibility they wouldn't even come home until tomorrow, so Cas had taken the opportunity to sleep in. But now he decided it was time to get up and not waste the entire day. So he forced his still exhausted body to get out of bed and venture out into the bunker. 

     He was just about to open his door when a little yellow piece of paper caught his attention. He took the sticky note off the door and read it aloud, "Cas, you're human now, so don't forget to eat. Dean."

     His stomach took that moment to growl furiously, "I guess I am a little hungry. I don't know how humans maintain their bodies if they are this hungry all the time."

     He tucked the little note into his pajama pants pocket and made his way into the kitchen. As he walked the hall’s of the bunker he noticed more and more how hungry he actually was, but in the same instant hoped that there was something in the kitchen that he was actually able to make. He was certainly no chef, he could barely make eggs without nearly burning the kitchen down, so hopefully Sam had some cereal left in the cupboard or something easy. Otherwise he wasn't too sure what he was going to eat. 

     He made the last turn into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. On the counter there was a small pile of clothes and another yellow note. He walked over and read the note, "Hey, Cas, don't forget that humans get cold. I grabbed you a sweater and some socks, stay warm, Dean."

     Cas couldn't help but smile to himself, Dean was right again. Now that he was out of the warmth of his bed, his arms and toes were getting cold. So he put on the socks and sweater and walked over to the fridge. 

     "Another note," he smiled and took it off the fridge door, "I sort of figured you'd sleep past breakfast, and I know how much you suck at using the stove, so I made you some lunch. It's in the fridge. Just some PB&J sandwiches, I know how much you like them and I know it's simple, but it's definitely better than scorched eggs and bacon. I also made you some pasta and garlic bread for dinner if I'm not back. Just put it in the microwave for two minutes. Dean."

     Cas tucked that note into his pocket with the others and grabbed one of the wrapped up sandwiches from the fridge then sat down. With the first bite he moaned, he loved PB&J sandwiches so much, and he was so glad that Dean had been so kind as to prepare him food for the day. He would not have been happy with any of the burnt food he would have ended up with had he cooked himself. 

     He spent a little bit extra time eating the sandwich, savouring it as much as he could, before he was finally finished and now found himself with nothing to do. He tossed his wrapper in the garbage, stood there for a minute, then sighed and slowly wandered through the bunker. 

     He had been in this situation before, him staying behind while the brothers went on a hunt without him, and every time he hated it. He hated being alone in the bunker with nothing to do, and to top it off both Dean and Sam had taken their laptop’s with him to prevent him from attempting to do anything other than relaxing. As he recalled, Dean's exact words on the matter had been, "No work, no searching for cases, nothing related to hunting, period, while we're gone. You just sit back, relax, and focus on getting your strength back." And so now here he was, bored, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. 

     He considered for a brief moment calling Dean to see how the hunt was going, but quickly decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally distract Dean mid hunt and have him end up injured or even possibly worse, especially now considering he couldn't heal him if something happened. So instead he kept wandering. 

     He eventually wandered through the map room, ended up in the library, considered for a moment reading a book but decided he wasn't in the mood to focus that hard right now, and was about to head back to his room with the thought of going back to bed when he saw another yellow note on the wall. 

     He walked over to it and grabbed it from the wall and all this one said was, "Cas," with an arrow pointing to the right. He followed it, finding yet another note with the same message, and another, and another, until he found himself in front of Dean's hidden little man cave at the back of the bunker. The note on the door this time said, "Come on in, Cas, and look on the tv."

     "If you say so, Dean," and he walked in. There was another note on the tv right where the last note had said it would be, so he read that one, "I knew you would end up wandering around, bored with nothing to do. So I cued up a new Netflix series for you to watch, there's also beer in the mini fridge, and snacks for you in the cupboard above it. When I get back, maybe we could have a movie night? Haven't had one in a while. Dean."

     "I would love that, Dean, now you just need to hurry home." He added that note to his collection and walked over to the cupboard. Inside there was a bowl with all of Cas's favourite snacks, he then grabbed a couple beers, and walked over to the couch. He placed the snacks and beer on the table, grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. 

     "The Walking Dead," he read the title and the description of the show, "why are all the shows about monsters? We deal with this everyday and now it's all over tv. But if Dean likes it, then it must be good."

     He hit play on the first episode and then started digging through the bags of snacks in the bowl, trying to decide which one to open first, when he found another note. "Enjoy the snacks, Cas, but don't eat them all at once or you won't wanna eat dinner later, and you have to eat dinner. Humans need more than just candy and sweets all day, so make sure you save some room for that pasta. Also, don't forget at some point to shower, humans have to shower. Dean."

     Cas stared at the note for a second before he added it to his pocket. He then grabbed the bag of mini Twix bars and tossed one into his mouth. The man on the tv who had been shot in the beginning of the episode, Officer Rick if he remembered correctly, was just waking up from his coma, so he decided he'd watch another episode or two after this then he would shower as Dean had reminded him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Six episode’s, one shower, a bowl of pasta, and three bags of candy later and Cas was starting to feel tired again. He tried to wait up a little bit in hopes that Sam and Dean might come back tonight, but it was nearing midnight now and he assumed that they had decided to find a motel for the night. He would call them in the morning to make sure. 

     The episode he was watching was almost over, so he decided to wait for it to finish before he turned the tv off, but his newly human body had other plans. He felt himself slowly tipping to the side, falling, his eyes closing, and he ended up landing his head on the throw pillow. But a little crinkle on the side of his face woke him up enough to sit up and grab the sticky note that was now stuck to his face. 

     "Hey, Cas, I knew you would try waiting up for us and falling asleep halfway through your Netflix binge. But since we're not home yet go to bed, Cas, don't sleep on the couch all night, alright. See you when I get home, Dean."

     He chuckled lightly, still almost half asleep, but the thoughtfulness of Dean, leaving all those notes for him all day to make sure he was ok on his own, reminding him to eat and drink and rest, Cas couldn't help but blush. Not to mention he suddenly felt much warmer then he had all day. 

     He tucked that note into his pocket as he stretched on the couch, then forced himself to get up and shuffled to his room. 

     Even though he had been in there this morning and already found the note on the door, he couldn't help but find himself looking for one last note from Dean. Maybe there had been one he didn't see before he went to the kitchen for food, or a hidden note for him to find before he went to bed for the night. But after spending ten minutes searching the room, he was disappointed that he didn't find any more notes. But he pushed the disappointment aside, shucked everything but his boxers, and crawled into bed. 

     Where he was exhausted not too long ago he now found himself tossing and turning. He was wide awake and could not see sleep in his near future whatsoever. And after a few more minutes of restlessly trying to relax enough to sleep, he realized exactly why he was suddenly so unsettled. It was Dean. 

     As an angel, Cas didn't need to sleep, but now that he was human apparently it was necessary. And since he first became human a few days ago, this had been his first time without Dean, his first night going to bed without having spoken to the hunter, or even just as much as passing him by in the bunker. And his smell… it was comforting to Cas, Dean's scent always calmed him, even as an angel. But here in his own room, in his own bed, he had nothing of Dean to bring him that calm. 

     He grunted in frustration as he was still not able to relax, violently tossed the blankets off of him, and stormed towards the door, "As Dean would say, 'screw this!'"

     He threw his bedroom door open and marched down the hallway in nothing but his boxers, then barged his way into Dean's room. Dean's scent instantly hit his nose and he could already feel himself relaxing. And without even so much as a second thought he walked over and got into Dean's bed. 

     He pulled the blankets over him and snuggled into the pillow. Dean, it was all Dean, it all smelled like Dean, it was comfort and home. God, he missed Dean. 

     He laid there for a while, eyes closed just taking deep breaths, though he had no intention of sleeping there. He couldn't imagine Dean would be too happy when he came home from the hunt tomorrow morning and found Cas passed out in his bed. But he figured he could stay there for a little bit longer before he went back to his own bed. So he rolled over onto his stomach and stretched out on the bed, his arm finding its way under the pillows, and his fingers hit something. He grabbed it and pulled it out, finding a full sized piece of paper. He was about to put it back, sure that it was something personal to Dean if he had hidden it there, but in the dim glow of Dean's digital clock on the bedside table, he saw his name at the top. 

     He quickly turned on Dean's lamp and sat up to read the new note, and it would be an understatement to say he was only a little excited about it. "Cas, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here or not, I was hoping you would. And I know you'll probably think you have to go back to your own room, but you don't, you can stay if you want, you don't have to leave. So just lay back, relax, and go to sleep, okay. I'll come wake you up in the morning when I get back from the hunt. Good night, Cas, I…"

     Cas squinted at the bottom of the paper, Dean had written something but scribbled it out completely. Then it looked like Dean tried again, "I… Cas…" Then more scribbles, and more, until he was at the bottom of the page. 

     Cas wanted to know what he had written, what he had wanted to say that he was too scared to. Maybe he could tell if he turned it over…

     "There's more," he whispered to himself then read the rest.

     "Screw it. I love you, Cas. I hope you see this side of the note before you go to sleep, and I can't wait to get home so I can tell you that in person. Sweet dreams, Cas."

     He was stunned, speechless, his brain had even turned off. Dean loved him, and now that was going to be all Cas could think about. His heart was fluttering, he was anxious with anticipation, and all he wanted was for Dean to be home already so he could say it back. How was Cas supposed to sleep now?!

     But eventually he did sleep, with thoughts of Dean's confession on his mind and clutching the note close to his chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Man, I don't know why we couldn't have just grabbed a room at one of the many motels we passed on the way here," Sam complained as they grabbed their bags from the back of the car, "I'm exhausted."

     Well, that was a lie, Sam did know why. He also knew why Dean was practically running through the garage and down the stairs, "Dude, where’s the fire. Slow down."

     "I'm just tired too, wanna head right to bed."

     "You don't want to stay up for a beer?" He asked, though he knew the answer, he just wanted to see what Dean would say, "Celebrate taking down that nest?"

     "Nah, I'm just gunna go to bed, I'm beat, see ya in the morning."

     "Yeah, see ya," Sam waved him off and watched with a smirk as Dean practically ran through the bunker towards the rooms. He knew Dean wasn't as tired as he was trying to make it out to be, he had seen Dean running around the morning before, placing notes around the bunker and setting things up for Cas all day. He also knew about the little confession note that Dean had left in his bedroom in hopes that Cas would find. 

     He had caught Dean writing it just before they left, and was able to catch a sneak peek over his shoulder without Dean noticing he was there. Sam also knew that Cas had most definitely already found that note, where he knew Dean wasn't sure if he would. But it was no news to Sam that if Cas was in fact in Dean's room, it would not have been the first time he caught Cas sneaking in there to grab a sweater or blanket of Dean's to take to his own room. He was just glad that these two were finally going to get over themselves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean was just standing, frozen, outside his bedroom door. He was nervous, to say the least. There was no guarantee that Cas would be in there, or that he had seen the note he hid. He was just running off of hope that he had been right in thinking that his missing clothes and blankets had been taken by the ex angel, that maybe he had been taking them for a reason, and that his confession would be taken the way he was hoping it would. 

     He looked down the hallway towards Cas's room, but the door was closed. All he could do was hope that his little hunches were right, and that when he opened this door he would find Cas on the other side. 

     Slowly, he reached his hand out and turned the handle. He was holding his breath, his whole body felt numb, and when he peeked his head in his heart went into overdrive. Cas was in fact there, asleep in his bed, the blankets resting low on his hips showing off his toned back. 

     Dean tried to pull himself together a little bit, to calm down so he didn't wake Cas. He was still recovering from losing his grace and needed as much rest as he could get. So he quietly slipped inside and closed the door as softly as he could. 

     He placed his bag at the bottom of the bed, all the while keeping his eyes on Cas, worried that if he woke him he'd spook and leave in a panic. But thankfully he was still sound asleep. So he removed his shirts and pants and almost in slow motion, he crawled into the other side of the bed beside Cas. 

     He didn't touch him or get too close once he was under the covers with him. Dean was thrilled that everything he had thought and hoped for, was currently laying right across from him in his bed. So he decided to just soak it in for a few minutes, to just lay there and adore Cas, just stare at him for as long as he could before he could feel sleep starting to take over. 

     Just before he closed his eyes, he ran the back of his hand over Cas's slightly stubbled cheek, then he laid back against his pillow. Then suddenly Cas shifted beside him and moved until he was practically right on top of Dean. He tucked his head under Dean's chin, tangled their legs together, and snuggled as close as he could get. 

     Dean just smiled, as happy as he had ever been in that moment, and wrapped his arms around Cas. They laid like that for a minute before Cas moved his hand from where it was rested on Dean's chest, and a second later, he brought it back up and stuck the entire pile of sticky notes he had collected all day to Dean's forehead. Dean chuckled, shaking Cas on his chest who also laughed. Then he brought his hand up again and placed the confession note over Dean’s heart where his hand had just been resting. 

     Dean grabbed all the notes and placed them on the bedside table, then opened the drawer to reach in and grab the pad of sticky notes and wrote out another one. He laughed as he peeled the note off the pad and moved his hand between them to stick it over Cas’s heart. Cas tucked his chin down to read the note upside down and smiled from ear to ear, “Property of Dean Winchester.”

     “At least I hope,” he said, laying his hand over Cas's where it still rested over his heart.

     "I love you too, Dean," Cas spoke into Dean's neck, drawing mindless circles over Dean's heart. 

     Dean moved his hand over to Cas's chin and lifted his face up to his. "I'm glad you found my note, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here."

     "I missed you," Cas admitted, "the pillows and blankets smell like you."

     "I missed you too, Cas, a lot. I did everything I could so that I could make it back here tonight so we could be together." He rubbed his thumb over Cas's bottom lip, then asked in an almost whisper, "Can I…"

     Cas nodded, his nose rubbing against Dean's as he did, and Dean leaned in closing the gap. He touched his lips to Cas's and kissed him softly, sucking lightly on his bottom lip. It was slow, and gentle, and perfect, filled with years of love between them and Dean couldn't think of anything better than this. He had never been happier. 

     When they finally pulled apart, Dean pulled Cas against his chest again, tucking him perfectly against his body as he was before, running his fingers up and down his back. Then he started thinking, as he was staring up at the ceiling, with Cas finally in his arms, and as usual his brain started running wild. He suddenly became nervous and began shifting under Cas. 

     Cas felt it, knew Dean well enough by now to know exactly what was going on, so he just rubbed his hand over his bare chest. It might have been easy enough to write it down on paper, but Cas knew Dean would struggle with actually saying it out loud. But eventually, with the soothing motion of Cas's hand on his chest, he managed to get it out. 

     "I… I love you, Cas, I really love you, so much."

     Dean leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cas's forehead and he smiled, tucked himself tighter under Dean's chin, "I love you too, Dean, and I'm glad you came back tonight."

     "Me too," he kissed him again, then wiggled to settle back into the bed and closed his eyes, "good night, Cas."

     "Good night, Dean."

End

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

A/N: Hope y’all liked that cute little fluff fest XD 

[chicgeekgirl89]

Home is Us

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Owen Strand, Judd Ryder, Tommy Vega, Mateo Chavez

Summary: In the aftermath of the condo fire, Carlos and T.K. seek comfort in one another. Post ep for 2x12 "The Big Heat."

A/N: This is my rather belated post ep for 2x12. And it would not have happened without @bluenet13. Literally. I agonized over this SO MUCH and she listened to all my whining and didn't let me cut the part about Marlon Blendo so I owe her everything.

AO3

The night air was cool and still, the stars sparkling brightly in the sky, but the stench of smoke obliterated any sense of peace or calm. T.K. could feel Carlos’ hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force as they burst out the front doors and onto the lawn, both of them gasping and coughing.

Tommy came running toward them. “Are you all right?” she asked urgently, eyes and hands searching for damage. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m, I’m okay,” T.K. choked out. “Carlos?”

He shook his head, coughing violently. “I’m fine too.”

“T.K.!”

His dad came charging toward him, wrapping him up a fierce hug. “Oh my god,” he breathed into T.K.’s hair and then his other arm was pulling Carlos in too, squeezing them both with every bit of strength he had. “Are you boys all right?”

“We’re good, Dad,” T.K. said, even though he was shaking violently, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast he felt lightheaded. “What the hell? How did you guys even know we were in trouble?”

“Raymond said something earlier today and I just put the pieces together,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, I should have figured it out sooner.”

There were sirens screaming up now, ambulances and firetrucks, and Tommy put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Okay, there will be time to talk about this later. Right now all of you need to get checked out by the paramedics. No objections,” she said quickly when several mouths opened to protest. “A little oxygen never hurt anybody. Come on now.”

T.K. moved follow her and then realized Carlos wasn’t behind him. He turned to find his boyfriend still rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead at the burning building. “Babe?” T.K. reached for his arm.

Carlos startled at his touch and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

He was quiet as they sat on the back of the ambulance, answering questions with yes or no answers, eyes and body listless as they checked him over for injuries. T.K. had never seen his boyfriend look so small. 

They were both given oxygen and then Tommy reappeared, blankets in hand that she wrapped comfortingly around their shoulders, her mom tendencies coming out in full force. “Is everyone else all right?” T.K. asked, pushing his mask to the side.

“They’ve all got some first and second degree burns, but they’ll heal up all right. How are you two doing?”

“It could have been a lot worse,” T.K. said. 

“Carlos?” Tommy asked, her eyes softening and taking on a new level of concern.

He met her eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.”

She looked at him a moment longer and then reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to go check on the guys. You two stay right here and do as you’re told, got it?”

It wasn’t long before the paramedics released them with instructions to take it easy, stay hydrated, and head to the emergency room if they experienced any concerning symptoms. T.K. was still in disbelief that they’d escaped so unharmed. It was nothing short of miraculous, if you believed in that kind of thing.

Carlos spoke as they walked away from the ambulance, his voice quiet. “I should uh, I should call my parents,” he said.

“Do you want me to do it?” T.K. asked.

Carlos shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “No. No it’s um, they should hear it from me.”

He dialed, taking a shaky breath as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hey Dad.”

The conversation was painful, even from T.K.’s end. He couldn’t make out Gabriel’s words through the phone, but he could hear the unbridled fear in his voice. Carlos on the other hand sounded almost monotone, relaying the story and pertinent information in painfully exact detail, but without an ounce of emotion behind it, slipping back and forth between English and Spanish as he explained.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before,” Carlos said, when he hung up.

“Yeah.” T.K. looked at his boyfriend who seemed to be refusing to look back. “Carlos? How are you doing?” he finally asked. 

“I’m good,” Carlos said, eyes darting toward him and then away. It was clearly a brush off and they both knew it. So T.K. waited.

And then he watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him, anguish and fear spilling out like a wave until they were both clinging to one another as Carlos’ quiet sobs wracked his frame over and over again.

“Shh,” T.K. soothed, struggling to provide some kind of real comfort when he felt so raw himself. “Breathe. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“I should have known, I should have made the alarm company come out today.”

“Carlos listen to me, none of this is your fault.” T.K. pulled him in tighter, desperate to do something to ease his pain.

“If I had just looked around, if we had waited ten more minutes to go upstairs—“

“We had no way of knowing.”

Carlos pulled back, still shaky. “You can’t really believe that. There’s always something. I should have done better.”

T.K. cupped his face in his hands. “Baby why are you beating yourself up over this so much?”

“Because I’m supposed to protect you!” Carlos said, the words coming out on a ragged sob. “That’s my job. To keep people safe. And when it came down to it I couldn’t protect you. The person I care about most in this world I couldn’t—”

T.K. used his thumbs to wipe away some of Carlos’ tears, clearing his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. “Listen to me. We’re a team, remember? We protect each other. You and me. Not just you.”

Carlos shook his head, face still contorted in misery. T.K. pulled him back in again and pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay to be upset. But you cannot blame yourself for this. This was not your fault, do you hear me?”

Carlos nodded against his shoulder, but T.K. wasn’t completely convinced his words had gotten through.

Carlos took a shuddering breath and stepped away, wiping at his eyes and T.K. watched the wall go back up; the one Carlos had carefully constructed around him that meant he was always completely even-tempered and never out of control. “We should uh, we should go check on your dad and everybody. Tell them thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” T.K. said, feeling like he probably should be saying something more, but unable to find the words.

Carlos was already moving toward the group gathered at the back of the ambulance and T.K. had no choice but to follow him. “You guys all right?” T.K. asked as Judd pulled him in for a side hug.

“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Judd told him. “Everything check out with the paramedics?”

“We both ate a little bit of smoke, but we’re okay,” T.K. said. “Honestly though,” he swallowed hard, “we probably wouldn’t be here without you guys. So thank you.”

“You’re just lucky your dad drives so fast. I didn’t know he had it in him, what with him being such a city slicker,” Billy said with a chuckle.

“My driving is impeccable and I always drive the exact speed limit. Except in emergency situations,” Owen said, casting a look at Carlos.

Carlos managed to scrounge up half a smile but didn’t say anything.

A truck came screeching to a stop just behind the ambulance and Gabriel Reyes jumped out. The man looked truly shaken, eyes wild as he ran toward them. “Carlos! Mijo are you all right?”

“I’m okay Dad,” Carlos told him as they hugged.

“Gracias a Dios. You’re all okay?” Gabriel asked, looking around the group.

“We got out just in time,” Owen said. “Minor injuries only.”

“Which is more than we can say for the condo,” Judd said. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more Carlos, he had that place rigged up good.”

Carlos shook his head. “You did everything you could and we’re…” he swallowed hard and T.K. could tell he was blinking back more tears, “we’re very grateful.”

“Have they taken your statements yet?” Gabriel asked. 

“Yeah, about half an hour ago,” T.K. said. Officers had come around while they were still sitting at the back of the ambulance and written down what little they knew. Nothing like telling complete strangers that you hadn’t realized your house was burning down around you because you were upstairs having sex with your boyfriend. 

“Then there’s no reason you need to be standing around here,” Gabriel said. “You know the ranch is open to you both. Your mother is worried sick, she would be very happy to have you.” He turned to look at Owen. “But perhaps you would rather be closer to work? The ranch is a bit of a drive.”

“Well of course you’re welcome to stay at my place,” Owen said. “There’s plenty of space and Buttercup would love to have you around. But I’m sure Andrea wants you close to her.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I think they’re better off here in town. Andrea will understand. There will be a lot of paperwork to deal with in the coming days, they need to be readily available.”

“Well of course, but I’m not sure how much I can provide in the way of hospitality right now. The investigators didn’t really clean things up when they left,” Owen said meaningfully.

“Not a problem,” Gabriel said, taking out his phone. “I can have a crew there in the morning. It should never have taken this long in the first place. You know sometimes they drag their feet on these things.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” Owen said, waving him off. “Worth it in the end.” 

The dads debated a while longer before they decided an exhausted T.K. and Carlos would stay with Owen for the time being to be closer to work and to their former condo for whatever overhaul was necessary. By that point neither of them really cared where they ended up as long as there was a shower and a bed waiting for them. 

Owen elected to stay at the scene with Gabriel so Judd drove Carlos and T.K. home. Neither of them said much, still in a state of shock and Judd was mindful enough not to try and fill the truck with conversation.

The house was dark, Mateo asleep for the night. Buttercup looked up as they came in and gave half a tail wag before settling back down again.

“I think I left a couple sweatshirts and pairs of pants here,” T.K. said, searching through the drawers in his dad’s guest room. 

“Mmhmm,” Carlos said. He’d sunk onto the end of the bed and was staring blankly at the wall. 

“Hey,” T.K. stopped his search and went to him, cupping his face in his hands. “Why don’t you go get in the shower? I’ll find us something to change into and bring it to you.”

Carlos nodded tiredly and disappeared down the hall. T.K. stood for a moment chewing on his lip. He felt lost, adrift, trying to process and deal with his own feelings of grief and stomach churning worry, and Carlos seemed miles away. T.K. didn’t know what to do except to try and meet his physical needs.

He managed to scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would do the job. They might be a little tight, but at least Carlos wouldn’t be sleeping in the stench of his smoky clothes.

T.K. knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside and putting the clothes on the counter. “You all right?” he asked.

Carlos sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

T.K. gathered up Carlos’ soiled clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer, intending to add his after he had his own shower. He heard the water turn off and a minute later the bathroom door opened. “I’m done,” Carlos called softly down the hall.

“I’ll be quick,” T.K. said, switching places with him. 

The water felt good and he watched as soot and sweat and ash slithered down the drain. He took longer than he meant to, almost lulled to sleep by the soothing pound of the water against his back. Eventually it grew cool and he turned it off, stepping out to try and squeeze into a pair of sweatpants that belonged to his dad and a t-shirt he didn’t recognize but had found in the clean laundry.

T.K. left the bathroom still toweling off his hair. He crept quietly toward the guest room; Buttercup didn’t even move as he stepped over him in the hallway. Opening the door he winced when it squeaked, fully expecting to find Carlos completely sacked out in the bed, more than ready to join his boyfriend in blissful sleep.

Instead he found the room empty and a spiral of fear shot through him so fast it took his breath away. “Carlos?” he whispered, as if the man would suddenly materialize from a dark corner or the tiny closet. 

When there was no answer he turned and went back the way he’d come, stepping over Buttercup again, searching the kitchen and the living room before he made his way to the back patio. “Hey,” he said softly when he spotted Carlos sitting on the edge of the outdoor sofa.

Carlos didn’t respond and T.K. felt his worry grow heavier. “Carlos?”

His boyfriend’s shoulders hitched slightly and T.K. walked around the patio furniture to find him hunched over, tears streaming down his face. “Oh baby,” T.K. said, dropping to his knees, hands frantically reaching for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said hoarsely. “I just…I can’t…I’m trying to pull it together but—”

T.K. slipped onto the couch next to him and pulled him into his arms. “You don’t have to be okay,” he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion. “No one expects that of you.”

Carlos’ voice was hoarse and broken. “I’ve never needed saving before. Not like that.”

“Most people don’t,” T.K. said.

Carlos looked at him, eyes red and swollen. “You were amazing in there. I was…I was panicking and you knew exactly what to do.”

“You’re a police officer,” T.K. said, resting his head on top of Carlos’. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to do in a five alarm fire. Just like you wouldn’t expect me to know what to do in a shootout.”

Carlos sighed and leaned into him. T.K. bent over and kissed his forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.”

Carlos shook his head again. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just keep thinking about it over and over again. I’m sorry I’m such a mess—“

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Everything you’re feeling is totally normal.”

Carlos swallowed hard. “I know it was just a house. But it was mine. It was the first place I felt like I could be myself. And then you came and it was our home and I—“ Carlos bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s all gone.”

“But I’m not,” T.K. said twining their hands together. “I’m right here. You’ve got me. And I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. Home is us.” He stroked his thumb up and down on Carlos’ shoulder.

His face sobered as he took a really good, long look at Carlos. Exhaustion and fear still radiated off of him. He looked defeated. Empty. “Let’s at least try to get some sleep,” T.K. said softly, brushing a still-damp, curl from Carlos’ forehead. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

He pulled Carlos to his feet and they walked hand in hand back to the guest room. Carlos looked at the clock as he got into bed and groaned. “I have a shift in five hours.”

“You’re not going to work today.” T.K. told him. “They’ll understand.”

Carlos slid down the bed onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, his free hand finding a home on T.K.’s hip. “I meant what I said before. You were incredible tonight T.K. You saved us.”

“I’m pretty sure my dad, Billy, and Judd saved us,” T.K. told him.

Carlos shook his head. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t been there—“

“But I was,” T.K. said firmly. “I was and we’re fine. We’re…going to be fine,” he amended, because god knew there was nothing fine about them right now.

Carlos was quiet for a moment and then laid down all the way so they were face to face. T.K. shifted so they were even closer, needing to feel the warmth of Carlos against his own body. “I don’t think I can sleep,” Carlos said.

“Then we’ll just lie here together,” T.K. told him softly. 

They locked eyes, both of them breathing together in the silence, just being together, holding on a little tighter than normal. “I can’t stop seeing it,” Carlos finally whispered. “I was so scared T.K. What if I’d lost you?”

“You didn’t,” T.K. said softly. He leaned in and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to Carlos’ lips. Carlos didn’t respond so T.K. nudged him gently with his nose and then kissed him again.

It was slow at first, Carlos still drowning so deeply in loss and anxiety, but as T.K. continued to silently encourage him he began to reciprocate. First just one kiss, and then another, this one a little deeper, until they were completely pressed up against each other, hands searching for bare skin, shared breath moving between parted lips. 

Things grew heated and T.K. could feel the increasing desperation in Carlos’ kisses so he smoothed a hand soothingly down his spine, pulling back from him just a little bit, forcing him to slow down. “It’s okay,” he murmured as their lips broke apart and came back together. “I’m right here.”

Carlos responded by matching T.K.’s slower kisses, following him rather than leading.

T.K. reached between them and slowly undid the drawstring on his boyfriend’s sweatpants. Carlos broke off the kiss. “Are you sure?”

T.K. nodded, moving his hands underneath Carlos’ shirt, helping him pull it off over his head. They both needed this, to touch, to feel, to reassure themselves that they were alive, that this might have changed their night, but it hadn’t change them. 

Carlos started to roll on top of him, but T.K. gently pushed him back down until he was the one on top, chests and hips pressed together, a reversal of their positions from just hours before. Carlos’ hands landed on T.K.’s back, their eyes locking, both of them seeking comfort in the physicality of being together.

“We’re okay,” T.K. said, as much for himself as for Carlos.

Carlos nodded and then closed his eyes as T.K. began pressing kisses into his neck and chest. “We’re okay,” T.K. murmured soothingly every time his lips left Carlos’ skin. “I’m going to say it until you believe it. We’re okay. We will be okay together.”

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. woke up in the morning legs still tangled with Carlos’. It took him a moment to remember why he had a pounding headache and his muscles felt tight. Right. Burning condo. Smoke inhalation. Mad dash for their lives.

Carlos was still deeply asleep, for which T.K. was grateful. His boyfriend had drifted off in his arms somewhere around three am and T.K. had quickly followed. He managed to extricate himself without waking Carlos and pulled on some clothes before he headed out to the kitchen in search of painkillers. 

Sun was just filtering in the windows, the day already bright and clear. It was incredible how the world could continue to turn, even when everything had just crashed down around you. T.K. found some Advil, leaving it out on the counter, knowing it was likely that Carlos would be in need of some too. Then he moved their now clean, damp clothes from the washer to the dryer. They’d need to go out today and get some essentials. 

“T.K.?” Mateo asked in surprise as he appeared at the base of the stairs.  “I thought you and Carlos made up?” He paused and frowned in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”

T.K. sighed and launched into an edited version of the night’s events. “Dude,” Mateo said when he finished, a stunned look on his face. “Man that sucks. I’m glad you guys are all right.”

“Yeah, us too,” T.K. said.

“And listen, my house just totally blew up too. It was a rental, so not quite the same, but if you guys need help with any part of this process just let me know. You can borrow my car or laptop or whatever you need.”

“Thanks Mateo,” T.K. said gratefully.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Carlos appeared, eyes bleary and swollen, curls a disheveled mess. There was still a heaviness about him, but he looked better than the night before.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s waist and giving him a kiss, lingering slightly longer than their normal morning peck. “Hi Mateo.”

“Hey Carlos. T.K. told me about your place, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Carlos said with a sigh.

“Did you sleep okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos nodded, then winced. T.K. reached for the bottle of Advil and poured him a glass of water. “Thanks,” Carlos said, swallowing down two pills.

“Did you call your captain?” T.K. asked as Mateo grabbed a protein bar and vacated the kitchen to give them some privacy.

“Yeah he’d already heard. Told me to take the time I need.”

“Good,” T.K. said.

The dryer buzzed. “That’s our clothes,” T.K. said, getting up to retrieve them. “At least you can put on a shirt that fits.”

He tossed Carlos his shirt and pants. Carlos stared down at them, a frown on his face. “You okay?” T.K. asked.

“Why did you throw a shirt at me?”

“What?”

“Last night. We were about to be burned alive and you made me put a shirt on.”

“Oh,” T.K. thought for a second and shrugged as he folded his sweatpants and set them on top of the dryer. “I don’t know. I guess I just…panicked. I was thinking that the temperature drops here at night and I didn’t want you to be cold when we got outside.”

“Our condo was hot as hell, but you were worried I’d be cold?”

T.K. bit his lip and shook his head, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “I don’t know, like I said I panicked. It was the first thought that came to me.”

“Well it was a good one,” Carlos said, slipping his arms around T.K.’s waist. “Standing out there all night with no shirt on would have been pretty uncomfortable.”

T.K. threaded his arms through Carlos’, hands coming to rest on his lower back. “You doing okay this morning?” he asked.

“Better,” Carlos confirmed. “Thank you. I think I just…needed to let it all out. I’m sorry about last night. My head was…”

“Hey,” T.K. shook his head. “No more apologies. No one has anything to apologize for, right?” He brushed a hand over Carlos’ cheek. “Do you want coffee? Or a smoothie?” His eyes went wide as a thought hit him. “Oh no!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, concern dropping over his face like a cloud. T.K.’s distress was so sudden and visceral that he pulled back slightly, eyes searching T.K.’s frame for some kind of injury.

T.K. felt his chest growing tight as anxiety gripped him. “Marlon Blendo! Oh my god, my dad is going to be so upset!”

“Whoa.” Carlos cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sure your dad will be okay. Blenders are replaceable.”

“Carlos he really loved that blender,” T.K. said seriously. 

Carlos chuckled. “Here I am, wondering all night long how we’re going to get through this and how you can be so calm when the world has literally gone up in flames, and now you’re losing it over a blender.”

“He was a really good blender!” T.K. pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair as he took a few aimless steps, more thoughts striking him. “Oh my god my hoodies!”

“I will buy you new hoodies,” Carlos assured him.

“They won’t be the same,” T.K. groaned.

“Is this you finally freaking out?”

“I am not freaking out!” T.K.’s breathing had increased rapidly as panic spiraled through him. The sense of calm control he’d felt for the past twelve hours slowly started to slip away as reality set in. “Oh my god I’m totally freaking out. I can’t freak out, you’re freaking out! We can’t both be freaking out!”

“Hey,” Carlos cradled his face in his hand. “We’re okay? Remember? And if you need to freak out and lose it, that’s all right. It’s your turn. I’ll pull it together for a couple hours and you can melt down.”

“I don’t want to melt down, I want my shirt with the blue stripes on it. And that bergamot candle your parents gave us as a housewarming gift. Oh my god, Carlos all your spices from the market!”

“Come here,” Carlos said, pulling him into a hug, one hand holding him firmly around the waist, the other settling on the nape of his neck, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion.

T.K. let his forehead rest against Carlos’ shoulder, feeling more grounded by the strength of his boyfriend’s arms and the softness of his fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

T.K. took a breath as the weight of everything began to land on his shoulders. Losing their home. Almost losing each other. God, how was he only now feeling how terrible it all was? He’d truly thought he was okay until this very second. “We’re going to make it through this, right?” he asked. He’d been so sure last night, but now…

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Yes. We are.”

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: When I started writing this, did I think it would end up in the boys having soft, sweet "we're so glad we're not dead" sex in Owen's guest room? Nope. No I did not. Is it all @bluenet13's fault that it happened? Possibly. Or possibly they're just too sexy and they couldn't help it. Idk.

[imagines-by-rose]

Turning Point

Hello again! Have some angst, on the house ;)

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Genre: Angst w/Happy Ending

Warnings: Mentions of Blood

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

Eggsy was running at full tilt through the foggy streets, the echoes of y/n’s anguished screams carried to him over the hard brick. Freezing rain pelted relentlessly against him and formed dark, icy pools at the foot of the surrounding buildings that seemed to loom, stifling, over him from all sides. He heard her shriek his name and was unable to ease his growing panic.

He stumbled on the slick cobblestone when he barreled around the corner, and when he righted himself he was met with blinding police lights, a pile of rubble where his house once stood, and y/n, fighting with all she had to run toward the ruined home against the restraint of two EMTs. An ambulance was parked nearby at the ready.

“NOO! Please! You have to let me find him, please!”

Eggsy weaved untouched through the police blockade. “Y/N!”

She stilled at his call and turned to him in disbelief. Her eyes were wild, and if it weren’t for the rain her hot tears would have left heavy tracks down her reddened cheeks. She doubled over with wracked sobs and fell hard onto her knees.

The EMTs relaxed their hold on her and y/n reached out to Eggsy, desperate. When he finally made it to her she clung to him, white knuckles stark against the dark fabric of his coat. He dropped down to her, holding her as close as he possibly could.

“I’m here, love. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Y/n’s voice strained through broken sobs, her words muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” The mantra fell like a prayer from her lips.

“You’re alive.”

Suddenly it dawned on him. She thought he’d been inside. That he’d been killed. His stomach wrenched when he realized what she must have gone through.

“Oh God, baby, I’m so sorry.” He tightened his grip when she shuddered against him, and he brought a comforting hand to her head. “Shh. Oh, y/n. It’s alright, love. I’m here. It’s okay. I’m okay. I wasn’t home, it’s okay.”

One of the EMTs gestured to him. “Oi. You this Eggsy bloke she’s been on about?”

Eggsy looked up and nodded, y/n’s head still buried in the crook of his neck.

“You mind helpin’ me with her? Been completely mental since she woke up, tryin’ to get back in that bloody house an’ all. She needs to get to a hospital. She’s in shock.”

Eggsy lightly gripped y/n’s arms and pulled away to look her over. His chest seized when he noticed dark streaks of blood dripping down her temple. “What? Baby, you’re hurt. The hell were you thinking running out like that? We’re getting you to a hospital, okay?”

Her face twisted in sorrow. “But you were inside. They said nobody could’ve made it out alive. I couldn’t let them leave without trying to find you -- I wouldn’t just abandon you like that!”

Eggsy tightened his throat, fighting his own emotions. He would deal with them later. Right now he just needed her in that ambulance.

He rubbed his hand in soothing motions down her arm. “I know, love, I know. But I’m here now, yeah? You don’t have to wait anymore. Let the medics help you, sweetheart. They know what to do. Please, baby.”

She lowered her head back onto his shoulder, her energy fading with her adrenaline.

“Will you stay with me?” She whispered, exhausted.

Eggsy looked to the EMT for an answer.

“You can ride in the cab with her, but you can’t interfere, yeah? You’ll have to let us work.”

“Of course.”

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

Eggsy sat in the waiting room, anxiously watching the clock. Two hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds later, a doctor came to see him.

She looked around the waiting room. “Mr. Unwin?”

Eggsy practically shot out of his seat. “Is y/n okay? What happened to her?”

“Y/n will recover just fine, Mr. Unwin. As for what happened, we believe she was walking home when the explosion occurred.” She looked over her clipboard. “She’s suffered a concussion, bruised ribs, laceration to her temple…” she returned her gaze to his. “We’re going to keep her overnight for evaluation in case any complications occur, but you can rest assured, Mr. Unwin; she’s going to be alright.”

Eggsy nearly regretted asking when he heard y/n’s injuries, but the news that she would recover was a welcome relief. “Can I see her?”

“Yes. She needs a calm environment, so don’t do anything to make her excited, alright?”

Eggsy gave her a hurried noise of agreement as he made his way down the hall.

The doctor smiled, offering a friendly “She’s in room 3102, by the way!” before Eggsy was out of earshot.

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

Y/n was awake when he entered the room, gauze bandages wrapped near her hairline. She was sitting upright, seemingly calm compared to the state she was in when Eggsy last saw her, but her puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

He was at her bedside in an instant, all but crushing his lips to hers. He brought a careful hand to her face, wary of her injuries. She laid her hand over his and gave it a small squeeze.

He rested his forehead gently against hers when they parted, his eyes closed in relief. “Hi, baby. How you feeling?”

“I’m fine, bub. Just a little cut is all.”

Eggsy pulled away, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. Y/n didn’t let go of his hand. “Your bandages say different, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I just can’t believe you’re here. You’re okay.”

His brow creased. “Of course it matters, y/n. Why didn’t you go with the EMTs when they told you to?” He tried to keep his voice calm, not wanting her to mistake his fear for anger. “What if your injuries had been worse, love?”

Y/n kept quiet, looking at their entwined hands.

Eggsy sighed. “I need to know that you’re okay, y/n. I need to know that even if I’m not, you will be.”

Her eyes tightened when she looked at him. Her voice lowered in what he thought may be anger, but he wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean, ‘even if you’re not?’” It sounded more like a command than a question.

He took a moment to choose his words, drawing a long breath through his nose. When his gaze returned to her his eyes were steeled. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but the tailor shop isn’t just a tailor shop. It's a front. I work for an organization much like MI6 called Kingsman.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “So you’re…an agent.”

“Yes. And I’m not going to lie to you about this, y/n. That missile was meant for me. I just happened to not be home, and I’m so glad you weren’t either. But this…” he shook his head, biting his lip, “this was too close. I can’t-- I won’t sacrifice your safety because of my job.”

“Eggsy, I swear to God if you even think about leaving me because of some macho bullshit like duty or honor I will--”

He cut her off with a dry laugh. “No, no, I’m not leaving. I would never leave you, love. But we’re going to have to live differently from now on. We’ll have to be more careful; set up some ground rules and safewords. But that’s selfish of me. I shouldn’t just-- I can’t presume to know what you want. That’s why I have to ask,” he lowered his head slightly, lips drawn and eyes careful, “would you rather live a normal life,” his voice quieted, “or stay with me?”

He was doing his best to remain stoic, y/n knew. But she didn’t miss the tension in his jaw, or the nearly imperceptible twitch in his brow. He was scared. Scared she’d choose normalcy over him.

As if.

“Is that even a question? Of course I’m staying with you, Eggsy.”

“And you know what you’re agreeing to? This life isn’t easy, love. This won’t be the last attack on--”

“I don’t care about that. I love you, you know. You and JB died in front of me today, as far as I knew.”

Eggsy winced. Y/n brought her free hand to his jaw, prompting him to meet her gaze. “But now you’ve come back to me. You’re here.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m spending the rest of my life with you, no matter what.”

She slid her hand behind his neck and pulled him to her, their lips crashing together once again. Eggsy’s tongue flicked across her lips which she parted eagerly. He brought his hands to her face, smoothing his thumbs over her tear-stained cheeks. Her breath hitched when he moved to kiss down her jaw to her neck, where he sucked on the tender skin. She whined when he pulled away, her lips unconsciously trailing after him.

He rested his head on her shoulder, breathless. “I know, ‘m sorry, love. But we can’t have you getting too worked up, yeah? Doctor’s orders.”

Y’n leaned back with a huff. “You’re such a fucking tease, Unwin. You know that?”

He laughed, pressing a sweet kiss to her shoulder. “You’re right, I’m the absolute worst. Just think of it as motivation to get better, yeah? We’ve got a wild ride ahead of us, love.”

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

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: Difficult

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: the morning after.

warnings: 18+, explicit language and other things, not that descriptive but I am not leaving you with -implied- this time, nsfw

author’s note: Right, this is actually half of what I wanted to write for this chapter, but I thought that it might work better this way. A bit shorter one, 2.4k words, I hope you’re still gonna like it. 

Also - apparently all fandom writers share one brain cell, so let me just say that any resemblance to other works is purely coincidental. (hi Tessa!)

The song for this part is Billy Raffoul - Difficult

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

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Tag list: @cxnnienikas  @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway​ @the-gazette-of-tea @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

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Even before you opened your eyes, you knew something was off. The smell of bedsheets. Their texture. You rolled to the side, groaning slightly. A pulled muscle. Or two.

And a few other sore places.

Oh, right.

You heard the muffled sound of a door clicking shut and you glanced towards the entrance to the hotel room.

Neil looked like he’d just woken up himself, the lack of proper sleep painting dark circles under the blue eyes, a somewhat crumpled olive green t-shirt amplifying the usual dishevelance of his appearance. He caught your stare as he removed his shoes, balancing two cups of what you hoped was coffee in the other hand, and smiled lightly.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, but your timing is impeccable,” you laughed, stretching your arms and stifling a yawn. And then you smirked. “Glad to see it still holds true in the daylight.”

Neil snorted, his gaze lit up as you sat on the bed, not really bothered to cover yourself up.

“Coffee?” he said and handed you a cup.

“Yes, please and thank you.” You took the first sip and sighed with delight. “You’re an angel,” - a wicked grin crept on your face - “...a naughty one, but still.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the smug smile behind his cup.

“I did exactly what you suggested numerous times during the training,” he said, and then tugged the bottom lip between his teeth. “...and maybe elevated it here and there.”

You hummed in agreement as your sleep-deprived brain rolled a pretty vivid the best of tape; the string of flashbacks quickened your pulse more efficiently than the hot beverage in your hand.

“That you did, all right.”

Then your gazes met, and you pushed back the urge to curse. Yep, that was it. That scanning look. Vibe check. When both of you tried to figure out if the previous night changed anything between you. You wondered if he could see the silent plea in your eyes.

Please, don’t make this weird.

Neil hesitated, suddenly tense.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked sheepishly and took a swig from his cup, grimacing with regret as he evidently burned himself in effect.

“We had a fun night. Now we’re enjoying the coffee,” - pursing your lips, you tilted your head - “Did I miss anything?”

Seeing you all casual about it, Neil relaxed and exhaled slowly.

“I think that covers it.”

With the air cleared, you finished your coffee and put down the empty cup on the nightstand. Your clothes still scattered the floor, but there was something you needed to do first. You got up and stretched again, smirking as you caught the blue eyes wandering across your naked body.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” you said, walking past Neil on the way to the bathroom. “Feel free to join me.”

Soon the hot water was soothing the stiff muscles and you closed your eyes, blessing the minds behind the concept of the rain showers.

The glass door creaked behind you.

“There you are.” You smiled, pouring a bit of the shower gel on your hand and spreading it on your shoulder. “For a second you got me thinking you’re not gonna come.”

Neil scoffed, amused.

“As if I could say no to an offer like that.”

His hand replaced yours on the shoulder and you gave him the bottle, groaning quietly as he started slowly rubbing your neck. The tension eased under his fingers, and you took a step back, turning your head and reaching to his cheek. As Neil leaned in to kiss you, his hands slipped down your sides. then up your stomach, and when they cupped your breasts, you gasped breathlessly. He smiled against your lips, looping one arm across your waist and pulling you closer. 

You tangled your digits in wet blonde strands, tugging at them and shuddering as Neil stopped teasing your nipple and moved upward, wrapping the long fingers around your throat gently while he deepened the kiss. As if the act alone wasn’t enough to haze your mind, it awoke the memories from the night before, wiping any coherent thought from your head. Maybe that’s why a delicate stroke on your clit was almost enough to make your knees give out.

You whimpered and broke the kiss, then turned around and rested your forehead on his collarbone, catching your breath. Neil’s chest heaved under your palms as he embraced you, chuckling lightly.

“Still tired?” he asked, tucking dripping hair behind your ear and pressing his cheek to your temple.

“Not that tired,” you replied, smirking as you dragged your fingertips down his body.

A moan built in his throat but you were there to capture it with your lips. Your mind overcast with desire as you felt him getting even harder under your touch.

Even with the weary mood of the morning after, that pull between you was too strong to resist. And with your current state, it was so easy to get lost in each other’s closeness, in shared shaky breaths, in pleasure flowing through you to the rhythm of your bodies. Slow and careful at first, gentle brushes and gliding fingers - with the steam from the hot water enveloping you, the temperature was rising, and soon you wanted more. So did Neil.

He waited for a sign from you, and when your hips bucked and you started pushing against him, needy and desperate, his hold on you got firmer, his kisses more hungry and the pace of his thrust faster. The pulse pounded in your ears. Cold tiles against your back. You buried your face in his neck, gasping. Faster. The fire roamed through your veins, leaving you a moaning mess. Faster. The sounds of your bodies coming together filled the air. He cursed and pulled you closer.  Harder. You cried out, so close to the edge. Neil tilted your chin and when his lips met yours, the world dissolved and you came undone, clinging to him as he joined you with a guttural groan.

You rode out your highs, trembling in each other's arms, huffs and giggles breaking in between sloppy kisses.

Neil pulled back to take a look at you.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, running your fingers along his jawline. “Thank you.”

A smug smile dangled in the corner of his mouth.

“My pleasure.”

You scoffed and smacked his chest, making him laugh in response. Pressing his forehead to yours, he cupped your face as the other hand stroked your back in a soothing manner, and you closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh.

“I think I need a moment to recover,” you said, melting into his touch. “Feels like I could crash right here and now.”

Neil’s thumb brushed your cheek.

“Good thing we have some time before the meeting.”

“Wait, we...?” - you furrowed your brows, trying to focus - “What meeting?”

“With the boss. He left a message a few hours ago.”

You pushed him away, staring at him in disbelief.

“And you’re only telling me now?!”

He shrugged, unfazed by your outburst.

“Was there any appropriate moment earlier?”

“Okay, fair enough,” you said and pinched the bridge of your nose, collecting yourself. You’d been waiting for a chance to ask your questions for so long, and now that you finally could get it, you were exhausted from indulging yourself with a hook-up. A stellar one, hard to mark as a mistake, really, but a stupid thing nonetheless. “Do you know what it's about?”

Neil studied you intently, puzzled by the sudden mood swing.

“I have an idea or two, but you never know with him.”

“Perfect.” You drew a long breath, and then you felt a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The blue eyes finally found yours and you couldn’t hide that fond smile any longer. “Pass me that shampoo, will ya?”

-----

“So to recap - you have a tech that allows you to move backwards in time,” you said, combing a hand through your hair. “Sure, yeah, cool, makes total sense.”

You recalled Neil's reverse entropy theory and you looked at him just to catch his stare, checking on you if you made that connection. You knew better than to mention it aloud, chances were that he hadn’t told the boss about his slip-up.

“Glad to hear that it does.” The Protagonist smiled, but he was watching you closely as if he could see right through your bullshit.

Because to be completely honest, though? It didn’t. The whole concept was absolutely fucking mental. But at this point, all you could do was simply roll with it. Especially since it somehow explained why that goddamn lock they’d used to lure you into cooperation behaved the way it did.

You slumped on the chair, processing the new take on good ol’ reality. All the answers you got somehow led to even more questions, but before you could decide on one, The Protagonist leaned in.

“I asked you to come because I need to know if Neil is ready to check his skills in the field.”

You shrugged. “Depends. We’ve covered most mechanisms, but there are still things I need to introduce to him. But from the ones he knows? He’s good to go.” You smiled, your expression nothing but innocent as you glanced at your student. “He passed his recent stress test with top marks.”

If The Protagonist noticed the way Neil’s eyes widened at your words, he didn’t let it show.

“What if he had to be inverted?”

“Beats me,” you said and puffed your cheeks, exhaling slowly, considering the implications. “I assume that would mean the lock remains regular?”

The boss shook his head slightly. “I can’t guarantee that.”

You looked at Neil. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, pinching his little finger, the eyes darting between you and The Protagonist. Probably not too comfortable with being a passive subject of the conversation, bless his heart.

“Have you ever tried picking any of those locks that way?” you asked Neil, shifting on your chair to sit in a way that was supposed to make him feel more included in the discussion.

“Once, at the very beginning,” - he sent you a nervous smile - “but I failed miserably. Since then I’ve only practiced on the old locks in our regular setting.”

“I see,” you said, shifting your gaze to The Protagonist. “Then I can’t guarantee anything as well. We’ll add that to our training plan, when’s the first mission?”

The dark eyes bore into you.

“Yesterday.”

You scoffed, but then you realized he wasn’t kidding. You bit back a hysterical giggle and sighed.

“If I’d known about that from the start… about the mere possibility of training like that, I would’ve included it in the schedule a long time ago.”

“I had no idea it would take so much time.”

You didn’t know if that it was aimed at your teaching skills or at the pace Neil was learning, but it pissed you off enough to not care to ask for clarification. You weren’t having any of those.

“Listen, pal, you can’t learn it fast if you want to learn it well. Even with all the shortcuts provided, you need practice, and you can’t do that without spending hours polishing the skills enough to use it in the real world,” you huffed, glaring at the indifferent man behind the desk. “Neil can be exceptional all he wants, but he simply can’t cheat the process and skip right to the end.”

A light split-second brush against the side of your knee made you miss a beat. You blinked twice and you looked at Neil, but he was focused on the boss, using your moment of hesitation to chime in.

“Do you have any intel about locks on the location?”

The Protagonist nodded, handing him a folder.

You watched as the blue eyes flitted through the documents, the color draining from Neil’s face with every other page. Uh-oh. He cleared his throat.

“What’s our window to prepare?”

“Two days.”

Neil stifled a curse and rubbed his face. The boss fell back on his chair, reading enough from that reaction. You watched as they both considered the options.

“Is it just a b&e kind of assignment?” you asked, cutting into the heavy silence.

The Protagonist looked at you, puzzled.

“You mean breaking and entering? Yes, it should be, why?”

“Take me there, then.”

Neil straightened in his seat. “You can’t know for certain what we might find there,” he blurted out at the boss and turned to you. “No.”

But you ignored him, locking your eyes on The Protagonist.

“Seems like I’m your best chance.”

He couldn’t deny it, and from that brief glance at the information he’d collected on your jobs, you knew he got an idea about the things you were capable of. A certain level of flexibility was required in your line of work, and some of the stuff you’d gotten yourself into while working with Mahir proved you could get shit done, even if everything came crashing down on your head. Once or twice - quite literally. Ah, fun times. The Protagonist drummed the fingers on the desk, weighing his decision.

Meanwhile, you finally granted Neil some attention. He stared at you in silent protest, the features clouded with concern. The fact that he could be worried about you was utterly adorable, even if totally out of place. A corner of your lips twitched and you winked. Neil slouched against the back of the chair, rolling his eyes as a faint smile crept on his face.

Finally, The Protagonist made up his mind and nodded.

“All right. But I’m not sending you there without a basic training. Neil, I’ll ask Ives to clear his afternoon. He’s at the shooting range now, both of you should get there and start preparing straight away.”

“Oh, I know how to handle a gun,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. You’d rather jump straight into something more fun than that.

“Not an inverted one, you don’t.” Neil grinned and raised a brow, playful lights shining in his eyes. “Have you ever tried catching a bullet instead of shooting one?”

You fought the urge to massage your temples. Of course.

And then you beamed, barely containing your excitement.

That was more like it.

(next chapter ->)

[heavenseed76]

Contentment

Rating:G

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Summary: Daryl saves Paul from certain death and some truths are revealed

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, canon-typical violence

When mothers lift cars off their children it is not because their love or fear make them super strong. It is because adrenaline will make a person immune to the sensation of pain. Their muscles and tendons are often irreparably damaged. Human beings will tear themselves apart for the people they love. Daryl Dixon was no different.

He couldn’t recall how he was able to get to Michonne’s horse, nor how he hauled the limp form of his friend onto the horse with him. He was vaguely aware that he could hear Dog whimpering somewhere behind him, punctuating the sound of another horse beside him. In his arms, Paul Rovia, wrapped in a saddle blanket, armor long forgotten, slumped forward. Every few minutes Daryl could feel the man tense beneath his arm, locked as if it was welded across Paul’s chest. The man in his arms was in pain, barely breathing, but thankfully alive. Daryl couldn’t think beyond getting Paul back to Hilltop, to Enid, to safety.

Riding in the fog made a trip that would have taken eons stretch even further. There was no sense of distance, nothing to mark the passing of the miles. The trip, longer still holding his friend’s life in his hands, seemed like a dream: the ubiquitous nightmare where you try to reach someone at the end of a long path and the faster you run, the further away they become. With each gallop, Daryl could feel Paul’s life spilling out onto his chest, his arms, soaking the blanket he was wrapped in. He could feel the labored breath, deep pulls of air that went nowhere. At first Paul held on to Daryl’s arm as they rode, though they eventually fell away, too weak to hold on.

Through the fog, Daryl heard Aaron yelling for the sentries to open the gate at Hilltop before Daryl even saw the walls. Aaron kicked his horse into a sprint and easily passed Daryl’s horse. Seeing the end in sight, Daryl pressed his own heels into the flanks of the beast on which he rode and urged the animal to go faster. He followed Aaron straight to the medical trailer, where Enid and Alden were already helping him off his horse.

“No!” Aaron kept the wiggly bundle in his arms from slipping and motioned to Enid and Alden to help Daryl. “Get Jesus!” Without waiting for them to acknowledge him, Aaron rushed into the medical trailer.

Daryl brought his horse up short next to Aarons, and then there were too many hands, too many faces below him, pushing and pulling at Paul. At Enid’s insistence, her eyes full of dread and sympathy, Daryl broke the iron grip he had around Paul and let him slip gently into the waiting arms of Alden and Siddiq, who wasted no time making room for Henry and Kal to help carry his pale body into the trailer. He dismounted Michonne’s horse, letting someone with gentle hands take the reigns from him. He stood staring at the door, behind which two of the people he cared for most in the world could be dying, or worse, turning… Along with his beloved Dog.

He felt familiar hands on his arms, attempting to turn him aware from the trailer, and distantly heard soft words filter through the fog filling his mind, urging him to come away. Hot, angry tears spilled over and silently marked his blood-stained face and suddenly he was unable to catch his breath. He wanted to rush in and pull Paul back into his arms and never let go. If he died… If Paul turned… he needed to be there for that. But Aaron was in there, and he wanted to keep his friend from suffering that end alone.

“Daryl, come get cleaned up.” Carol’s voice was a solid mass he could anchor himself to, as his grief threatened to let him float away like ashes. He started to let her lead him into Barrington House, when Aaron came through the trailer door.

Eyes red, brows pulled in to etch lines of worry into his forehead, Aaron quickly made his way to Daryl.

“Dog’s gonna be OK. Paul…” Aaron’s voice wavered, but he swallowed and carried on. “Paul’s fighting. His lung collapsed and he lost a lot of blood.” Without warning Daryl pulled his friend into his arms, and with a sob he had been holding in the entire journey, Aaron hugged him back, fingers fisting in the worn leather of his vest. Watching them, the lump in Carol’s throat grew, and she had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep her cry from tearing a hole in the comforting bubble the men had made.

***

The sun burned away the fog that had settled over Hilltop, and the morning promised a beautiful day ahead. At a picnic table near the medical trailer, Aaron and Daryl sat vigil, their backs against the edge of the table top. Aaron absently cleaned his prosthetic arm with a rusty can of WD40 and a ragged bandana he kept for the express purpose. Like the Tin Man. Daryl thought. They were both clean, in clothes that didn’t smell like gore. Carol had not been able to coax either man into eating or trying to sleep.

“We’ve wasted so much time.” Aaron sighed and set the rag he’d been using aside. “This is a big damned wake-up call.” He was used to companionable silence with Daryl, used to holding up both ends of a conversation, so when Daryl didn’t respond, he just kept talking. “We’ve been lucky. To make it this long. But this world is still just as dangerous as it ever was. I feel so stupid…”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip, listening. He had been there when Aaron dove head first into being a father to Gracie, burying Eric’s death deep beneath the needs of a tiny, new being. It occupied his mind, it gave him an outlet for his affection and focused his energy. It did not, however, fill the gaping love-shaped void left when Eric’s corpse walked off into the woods. It was one of the many ways Daryl felt he had failed everyone in his life; it was one of the many reasons he walked off into the woods That Day, and didn’t look back. The seams holding his family together tore open That Day, and try as he might, he alone didn’t have the strength to stitch it back together. Neither did anyone else, apparently.

“I did it for you, you know.” Daryl said, his voice gravel in his throat.

Aaron turned his expressive blue eyes to Daryl’s, not having expected a two-way conversation. “Did what?”

Daryl looked away, unsure of himself. “Saved him. I know you two… I know he means a lot to you. I saw Dog attack that walker, and heard you yell, and I just, I don’t know man, I just couldn’t let him die…” Meeting Aaron’s eyes he said, “I didn’t want you to hurt no more.”

Something sparked in Aaron’s chest. Affection, love, gratitude… he didn’t know what or how many of those things he was feeling. He stared at Daryl for a long moment. There was only one thing he could think to say. “Thank you.” Aaron pressed infinitesimally closer into Daryl’s warm shoulder with his own.

Daryl nodded, glad he could make his friend smile, even if things didn’t turn out as well as they hoped. It had been hours, and except for Alden leaving to give Enid and Siddiq room to work, and getting Alex to come in to better assist, there had been little news of Paul’s welfare.

“I know you’ve been coming here to see him.” Daryl shifted nervously. “He make you happy?”

A man of few words, Daryl could say so much with so little effort. It took Aaron a moment to understand what Daryl was asking, and when the implication of the question hit him, he felt like he had been slapped. He scooted away from Daryl on the bench of the picnic table, so he could fully turn to face Daryl.

“You do know we’re just friends, right?” Aaron’s frown returned, and Daryl didn’t know how to respond. “We’re not… we’ve never… Jesus and I are good friends, that’s all.” Aaron watched confusion slide over the hunter’s face. If Paul weren’t dying behind the door of the medical trailer, Aaron may have laughed. “You know Jesus is… he’s in love with you!”

“No.” Daryl sat up taller, and Aaron could nearly see the walls being built around the other man.

“Yeah. He’s been in love with you since he brought you home from the Sanctuary! Daryl, how could you not know?”

The hunter stood, defiantly staring his friend down. “He don’t.” He tried to turn away, but Aaron was right there.

“He does. That’s what I meant! We all have to stop wasting time we might not have, Daryl!” Aaron grabbed Daryl’s bicep and swung around to face the stoic man. “I know you. I know you both. And if there’s anything I’m sure of, its that you two belong together. Even if I was interested, that man’s heart belongs to you!”

It was if the last brick fit into place in the fortress of Daryl’s heart. The realization that not only did Aaron see how he felt for Paul, but that Paul felt the same for him, and had made it a known fact. Overwhelmed with the severity of this revelation, Daryl’s dread swelled, and he felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the world. The truth Aaron spoke filled his eyes with hot tears, of shame and joy and sickening worry. Seeing all this take shape in his friend, Aaron pulled him in for an awkward hug.

The harsh slap of the trailer door snapping closed brought the men up for air. Standing on the steps to the trailer was an exhausted Enid, covered in blood. Neither could move, holding their breath.

A smile bloomed on the woman’s face as she said simply, “He’ll be OK.”

***

In his own bed inside Barrington House, Paul Rovia looked smaller than Tara had ever seen him. The trip up the stairs and into the bed had worn him out, and he fell asleep almost immediately. He didn’t even flinch as she started a new IV in his hand. She watched him, his breath shallow and lips twisted in a pained expression. He was pale, his eyes sunken. Laying in his bed with only a bandage across his chest, his strong body laid bare and vulnerable, Tara took stock of all the things they would have lost if the man in front of her hadn’t made it home. Despite his reluctance, Paul was a good leader, and she tried every day to convince him of it. People loved and respected him because he was willing to go outside the walls and risk it all to strengthen them.

“How is he?” Daryl’s low rasp shook Tara from her reverie.

“Exhausted. He’s got some pain killers, so he’s comfortable enough to sleep.” Tara covered Paul in a thin blanket. “Come in. Sit. I’ll be back in a bit to check on him.” Sheepishly, Daryl entered the room, letting Tara give his arm and affectionate squeeze as she went past.

It had been several days since the cemetery, and Daryl had barely slept. Seeing Paul gravely injured had shifted something inside him, something Aaron had nudged to hang just the right way.

“Gonna keep watch on me?” Paul’s voice was just a whisper on his lips. He turned his palm up on the bed, an invitation.

Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, slipping his big hand into Paul’s smaller one. “Feelin OK?” He let his thumb caress the top of Paul’s hand.

Paul nodded, then winced, which Daryl caught even though he tried to hide it. “As long as I don’t move. Or breathe.” He gave a Daryl a thin smile. “You’re too far away.”

Daryl slipped off his boots and lay down beside Paul, mindful of the bandage across his chest. “This OK?”

Paul hummed affirmatively. His limbs were heavy, though he positioned himself close enough to lay he head on Daryl’s shoulder. He laced his fingers together with Daryl’s between their bodies. He could feel the other man relax against him, and if he hadn’t been so exhausted, Paul may have quipped at Daryl to make him blush.

“I’m sorry.” Daryl placed a firm, confident kiss on Paul’s forehead. “Wasted too many years. We have a chance now and I ain’t gonna fuck it up.” He reached over and felt the smooth skin of Paul’s temple with the back of his hand, reveling in the new-found ability to show his affection.

Paul took his hand, kissing the palm and then holding it to his chest, just above his bandage. “You better not. I love you, Daryl Dixon, but you know I will kick your ass.” Paul’s lips quirked up on one side and he peered at Daryl through heavy eyelids.

Daryl huffed a laugh and kissed Paul’s head again, snuggling into the warmth of the other man’s presence. They fell asleep, Paul holding Daryl’s hand to himself, so the hunter could feel every beat of his heart. That is where Dog found them, limping on a bandaged leg, letting Aaron help him into the bed to curl up at their feet, content.

[cuddlepilefics]

The lights went out

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Felix

Caregiver: mostly 3racha

 request by @kilixsstuff

Noone’s POV.:

It was late at night, when Felix startled from his sleep. He was drenched in sweat and disoriented. It was still dark outside, so the young Aussie had no idea what had woken him up. Seeing he still had three hours left till they needed to get up, Felix tried to go back to sleep but sleep wouldn’t come. Instead he became more aware of his sweat-soaked shirt and decided to change it quickly. The moment he got off the bed however, the room spun and his stomach turned along with the shift of his vision. Once he became of the nausea licking at the back of his throat, it was impossible to ignore it. Figuring it was better to move to the bathroom, just in case, the boy supported himself against the wall and snuck off as quiet as possible to not wake his roommates. On shaky legs he stumbled to the bathroom, flinching when the light stabbed his eyes. Only now did Felix become aware of the headache pounding mercilessly behind his brow. Switching off the light again, the dancer sat in the dark room, leaning against the bathtub close to the toilet. His mouth was watering and getting too tired and nauseous to swallow it all back, he hung his head over the bowl and just let it drip. True, he felt absolutely disgusting doing it but the boy was still sleepy. His eyelids kept closing and he was slowly drifting off again, when suddenly his body convulsed, sending a stream of last night’s dinner past his lips with barely any warning. Being startled awake again, the Aussie tried to suppress the next gag that pulled at his throat. He soon lost the fight, retching up more. Felix desperately tried to stay quiet, despite always craving comfort when he wasn’t feeling well, he didn’t want to wake any of his members. They were all exhausted and needed their sleep. His plan to let them sleep started to waver when a forceful heave scraped his throat and brought tears to his eyes. The soft sniffles turned into weak sobs, which turned into stronger hiccups that shook his frame and upset his stomach more, causing him to choke up small waves every now and then. By now his throat was on fire and his head thumped more than ever. Felix wouldn’t have found the strength to get up again, if it wasn’t for the chills, convincing him he wanted a warm shower and one of Chan’s sweaters over anything else, even if that meant he had to move.  

Getting his shirt of was a struggle. The damp fabric clung to the dancer’s back and his arms were felt weak and heavy. When the shirt finally came off, his arms shook from the effort. Felix sat in the shower and let the water run down his head and back, making his hair stick to his forehead. The hot water soothed the both, the chills and his aching muscles, when did they even get so sore anyways? The dancer completely lost track of time, not getting around to washing his hair because lifting his arms sounded way too exhausting to him. Instead, he stared into the drain for what felt like forever, dozing off, only to be brought back to his senses by the clenching of his stomach. Barely even trying, a weak gag brought up some bile. Dazed, Felix watched the small yellow trickle make its way to the drain. With a sigh, he turned off the water and forced himself up on shaky legs.

Wrapped in his towel, the young Aussie snuck back to his room, putting on loose sweatpants and stealing one of Chan’s hoodies from the leader’s closet, before curling up on his bed. They’d have to get up in thirty minutes anyways, so going back to sleep was not an option. Today their schedule consisted mostly of recording, so he was glad about not having to move too much. What he dreaded though, was the concert they’d have that night, which was also the reason he couldn’t tell his members about not feeling well. If he did, they’d probably nap while waiting for his turn to record but they’d also make him sit out during their concert and that was not an option. Felix loved Stay and would feel guilty if he didn’t give them his best, so he had to hide his struggle from his friends. He was mostly worried about Chan finding out, because the leader was so attentive and would always notice such things. The younger of the two Aussies usually hated when the other was stressed but today it was exactly what he hoped for, so the older wouldn’t pay as close attention to him.

When their alarm rang, Felix was immediately got up and got ready to ensure nobody would get the feeling he was lagging behind. “Hey Lix, are you not going to have breakfast with us?”, Changbin questioned, making Chan frown at the younger Aussie. The dancer paled at the thought of food but quickly managed to come up with an excuse: “I woke up really early today, hyung. Sorry, I already got hungry and didn’t wait for you.” The rapper accepted this with a nod, knowing the younger hated to resist his hunger and would usually eat right after getting up. To Felix this was the perfect strategy because he couldn’t possibly throw up again, if there was nothing inside him. Not being able to be around food, the boy went back to his room to wait for the others to get ready to head out. Being alone in his room also allowed him to let his guard down for only a bit, so he curled in on himself hugging one of his plushies and closing his eyes. “Hey, are you sure, you’re ok, Lixxie?”, Chan asked when he walked into their room to change. Startling, the younger sat up and forced a small and tired smile onto his face: “Don’t worry, hyung. I couldn’t sleep properly and was awake really early, so I’m kinda tired.” – “Ah, it’s ok. Maybe you could nap for a bit when it’s not your turn to record”, Chan offered, lifting a huge weight off the younger’s chest. Felix would get the chance to sleep at least a bit of his illness away without anyone noticing because they knew he was tired. “Thanks Channie”, he nodded and they both headed out.

The car ride to the studio was hell for Felix, the movement of the vehicle made his stomach churn and he could feel the small amount of liquid he drank slosh painfully with each turn of the road. Quietly, he rested his head on Jeongin’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The maknae giggled cutely and pet his hyung’s hair, whispering: “You really didn’t sleep much, hyungie?” The dancer shook his head, keeping his eyes shut. His members frowned in sympathy. They barely got enough sleep with the tight schedule they usually had, so not being able to sleep during a more relaxed night really sucked. Especially when there was a concert the next day. “If you want to, you can sleep on me when we’re at the studio, so you’ll be well rested for the concert later”, Changbin chuckled, smiling at the small “please”. They were all fine with Felix taking it a bit slower than usual and not being as energetic as usual. The dancer was glad about the affection he got from his friends without them even knowing how miserable he really felt.

Felix took Changbin up on his offer of becoming the Aussie’s human pillow as soon as they arrived at the studio. He was scheduled rather late anyways, so might as well get some sleep now. Only waking up again, when Changbin had to get up to record, Felix was hit with a wave of intense nausea and quickly got up. He tried to walk at a natural pace till he exited the room, then he darted down the hallway and bursting into the restroom. The dancer barely made it in time to retch up some watery bile. He was stunned that he even had anything in him to bring up but didn’t have much time to ponder on it before hunching over again. The strain made his already achy head pound harder and his throat burn. The dancer fought to settle his rebelling stomach, which was still trying to bring something up when there was nothing inside. When he was finally able to stop gagging, Felix tried to get up to rinse his mouth and wash his face but the combination of fever and skipping breakfast, not to mention the amount of sleep he lost, he was too weak and just fell back down. The Aussie was ready to break into tears right then and there but held it together. Trying again, Felix used the wall to pull himself up and took a second to get used to being upright. When the ground stopped moving under his feet, he quickly cleaned himself up and hurried to get back to his group, planning to find some gum to rid his mouth of the rancid taste.

“Hey, just in time. It’s your turn”, Seungmin announced when Felix walked in, “Whoa are you ok? You look shitty.” The young Aussie nodded and walked past his dongsaeng, ignoring a giggling Hyunjin: “And that, Felix, is exactly why it is called beauty-sleep.” – “Hey! I tried”, he whined, his voice even lower than usual. The poor boy was too out of it to notice the concerned frowns from his hyungs, while he was ushered into the recording booth. With his abused throat still on fire, the dancer did not have a good time recording. The notes wouldn’t come out clearly and his voice just sounded weak and flat. Of course, the producer was not amused, urging Felix to try harder and of course the Aussie did. Despite the dark spots dancing in his vision, he stayed upright, going over the same line again and again and again. Being a rapper, he had to pronounce words in a language that wasn’t his native fast and clearly. “Felix-si, you’re slurring your words. Once more and try to put some more power behind it. Your voice sounds flat”, the producer instructed, annoyance showing through.

Not really knowing what was happening, Felix was pulled from the recording booth before even getting to try again. Jisung had their arms linked and gently guided his twin back to the couch, while Chan spoke to the producer. The leader’s face was serious and his voice stern before he nodded and thanked the producer. “Hey mate, you don’t have to finish today. The producer agreed to let you do it tomorrow when you caught up on some sleep”, the oldest smiled comfortingly. He was taken aback when a small tear spilled from his dongsaeng’s eye and quickly wrapped the younger in a hug. Felix returned the hug, although he wasn’t strong enough to hold on as tightly as usual. Chan got closer to his ear, whispering quiet enough for only the dancer to hear: “You feel pretty warm to me, are you sure you’re alright?” Nodding against the older’s chest, Felix straightened up and dried his eyes, only to be met with the worried ones of his friends’. “It’s just the lack of sleep making him emotional and more sensitive”, the leader answered the unspoken question and Felix breathed in relief that his cover was still intact. Jisung came over, a small frown still present on his face when he announced: “Yah! Squirrel wants cuddles. Innie still needs to record anyways, so it’s your obligation to cuddle me.” Felix gave a small smile and gladly curled up in the shorter boy’s arms. It didn’t even take him a full minute to nod off, while his friend stroked his slightly sweat-dampened hair. Jisung came to the same conclusion as Chan when his hand lingered around the younger’s forehead for a moment. He made eye-contact with the leader and they agreed without words to keep a close eye on their dongsaeng. While cuddling Felix’ stomach growled loud enough for Jisung to hear, so the rapper gently rested his palm on the younger’s middle and felt it rumble uncomfortably beneath his fingers. It might just be hunger but with the unnatural heat the boy was radiating, he was almost sure his friend was sick. Now that he thought about it, Felix had also spent a pretty long time in the bathroom earlier.

Felix stayed asleep, even when Chan carried him to the car that would take them to the venue they’d perform at. He had apparently slept through lunch, which worried Chan because his alleged breakfast had been a long time ago and Felix was already weak from the lack off sleep and possible illness, so going on stage without a proper meal was probably not the best idea. The dancer still didn’t wake up when Jisung got him situated in the car and buckled his seatbelt. Despite most of the members chuckling at how wiped their friend was, they agreed to let him get as much sleep as possible before the show. When they arrived at the venue, everybody entered, except for Changbin, who was tasked with waking Felix up. The younger didn’t seem very pleased at being pulled from his rest but let the rapper pull him along anyways. “Are you sure you can do this, Lix? If you’re not up for the show, I’m sure we can have you sit out somehow”, the older worried. He knew something had to be up because he had seen Felix sleep-deprived before and it wasn’t the same. “Of course! Binnie-hyung, we’ve all performed with even less sleep before. I’ll be fine, just….”, Felix hesitated, “can I have cuddles tonight? I just.. I always…. You know, it helps me sleep…” – “Sure thing, just don’t hurt yourself during the show”, Changbin smiled, giving the younger a quick side-hug before walking into their dressing room.

The time passed without Felix even noticing. He barely payed any attention to his surroundings because his nausea had reached another peak and he was debating whether to go and get rid of some stomach acid before going on stage. The decision was made for him, when he was pushed and suddenly found himself on stage, stage lights burning down on him mercilessly. He felt bile rising in his throat, the sensations of a screaming crowd and blinding lights too much for his fever frazzled brain. Felix took deep breaths through his nose, willing the nausea away, while Chan greeted the crowd. Soon the first song started to play and they got onto their starting positions. The dancer was terrified, remembering all the spins and turns he’d be doing in the next two hours. The first song went unexpectedly well and the young Aussie’s nerves eased a bit. His movements were a bit less sharp than usual but the only people who could tell were his members. Felix head swam, he felt way too hot for comfort and no matter how much he breathed, it didn’t feel like there was enough air. He knew he was probably dehydrated but he didn’t dare to even touch his water bottle. The dancer was proved right when after a jump, his stomach lurched into his throat, filling his mouth with pure stomach acid. He quickly swallowed it back down, which only burned his throat once more, without missing a single beat with his steps. Dancing was truly his element but right now it was one of the last things he wanted to do. With each grueling choreo, the dancer kept bringing up small amounts of bile, always facing them back down. He didn’t think anyone really noticed but it certainly showed in his voice. His voice got weaker and hoarser, despite him straining to make it sound powerful. They hadn’t even reached the half when his members had to start giving him background vocals. Mostly it were Changbin and Jisung, sometimes Chan.

Felix impressed himself when he walked off the stage after the last stage, without passing out somewhere in between or covering the stage in puke. Having sweat a lot from all the dancing, the boy finally allowed himself a drink. The cool water felt soothing on his throat and it washed away the bitter taste that he hadn’t been able to get rid of. Before he knew it, Felix had chugged the entire bottle, already gulping down the second when he was stopped by Chan’s hand on his wrist: “Hey, slow down mate! You’ll make yourself sick.” The dancer suddenly paled, noticing how bad of a mistake he had made because his hyung was certainly right about worry. “You ok?”, the leader frowned as he noticed his dongsaeng standing completely frozen. The younger replied with an urgent shake of the head before giving a wet burp. Chan silently cursed, dragging Felix towards the closest restroom. The younger knew, he wouldn’t be able to make it in time but he still made an effort to quickly follow his hyung, not wanting to make a mess. They almost made it, when the dancer suddenly stumbled, catching himself with an arm against the wall. A gush of water shot past his lips, splashing onto the ground, only to be joined by another, bigger wave. The sick boy, coughed, choking as he tried to get a breath in before bending over with his hands on his knees and throwing up again. Chan had an arm looped around the younger’s waist to steady him, while his other hand delivered firm pats between the younger’s shoulder blades to clear his airways again. Having caught his breath, Felix straightened back up, gripping onto Chan’s arm as his world was sent spinning. The leader switched from patting his back to rubbing it comfortingly as he took in the younger’s appearance. The dancer was even more drenched in sweat than any of them, his eyes were glazed over with circles so dark that not even his concealer could hide them. Felix swallowed thickly, chapped lips forming a small pout when the tears finally came.  Heart clenching in sympathy, the older pulled him close to both comfort and steady him because the dancer looked like he’d topple over at any second. The moment only lasted a split second though, because Felix was quick to push Chan away, heaving violently. Despite the obvious effort, only a small stream of water came up. He spat, trying to get rid of the stubborn string of saliva that dangled from his lips, when suddenly the lights went out and his knees buckled.

The only thing that kept Felix from falling into the puddle by his feet were Chan’s strong arms around his small waist. Although he was incredibly worried, it wasn’t like the leader hadn’t expected him to faint at some point, so it didn’t come as too much of a shock. Carefully, he pulled the younger a few steps away and sat down on the ground with an unconscious Felix in his lap. The older used this opportunity to feel for a fever before lightly patting his dongsaeng’s pale cheeks. With the scalding temperature of his forehead, one would expect Felix to be sporting a noticeable blush but he was just so pale that the makeup looked wrong on him. His breathing was still quickened and shallow when his eyebrows twitched, wrinkling his forehead. “Lix, hey you with me?”, Chan asked gently, glad that they were in an empty hallway away from the chaos of their dressing room. The younger just groaned before blinking his eyes only to squeeze them shut again. Felix took his time to fully wake up, while Chan glanced at the puddle of sick a few feet away. It was plainly clear water, not even a hint of undigested food residues. That’s when he remembered the younger sleeping through lunch. Now that he thought of it, he also hadn’t seen Felix have dinner and with how hard the dancer was trying to cover up him being sick, that could likely have been a lie. The dancer tried to sit up, falling right back into the older’s lap before rasping a confused: “Hyung?” – “It’s ok, Lixxie. You just blacked out for a second”, Chan soothed, trying to sound as calm as possible, “you’re also sporting quite a fever. You were aware you were sick?” Defeated and ashamed for lying, Felix gave a small nod before covering his face. The leader ran a hand through his dongsaeng’s sweaty bangs to let him know it was ok before speaking up again: “Do you think we should go to the hospital? You passed out and you still don’t look to great.” The younger shook his head, this time succeeding to sit up. “Can we go home? I wanna sleep and Binnie promised me cuddles”, the dancer mumbled.

Chan agreed and ended up carrying Felix back to their dressing room. The younger had used up more energy during the show than he had to begin with. Changing and getting his makeup removed happened in a blur for Felix but he recognized Chan’s hoodie, when he was carried to the car. He was sitting between Changbin and Jisung, the younger stuffing a few plastic shopping bags into the slit between the seats for quick and easy access, should Felix need to be sick again. Chan had told the members about what happened and why they had been gone for so long. The group had quickly come down from their post-performance hype and discussed whether taking the young Aussie home was really that great of an idea. The leader had shushed them stating, they could still take him to a hospital later, should he get any worse. The oldest knew about Felix hatred for hospitals and wanted to give him the chance of recovering in a surrounding he was comfortable with.

Felix slept through the entire car ride, staying asleep when Changbin carried him into the building and up to their dorm. They had been debated on whether the dancer should still take a shower before bed, because he had sweat the most out of all of them and would definitely not be able to rest comfortably like that. Reminding them Felix wasn’t able to stand by himself, Chan proposed letting the other have a short cool bath, that way they might as well lower his fever. It would make all of them wait for their shower longer but nobody minded, pitying their sunshine after learning why he had been so drained today. Jisung ran the bath, using only lukewarm water and a soap with a very discreet scent, not wanting to overwhelm his twin. Changbin helped a drowsy Felix out of his clothes and supported his weight when the dancer struggled to climb into the tub. Chan soon returned with a fresh set of clothes, consisting of a set of his sweatpants and a large sweater from Changbin. The younger Aussie was already starting to drift to sleep in the water, so the leader gently helped him sit up and washed his hair, as he both tried to make it feel nice but also finish quickly, so the dancer could get his much-needed sleep. As soon as they had Felix in his fresh clothes, the oldest carried him to the room they shared with Changbin and tucked the younger in. Changbin was the first of them to be granted with a shower, so he could make up on the promise he had given to Felix. Finishing up as quickly as he could, the rapper snuck into his room, quiet so he wouldn’t wake Felix, who was most likely already asleep. Chan had already placed a bucket next to the dancer’s bed and there were an electrolyte drink and a bottle of plain water on the nightstand. Changbin carefully slipped into bed next to Felix and held him close after a quick kiss on his feverish forehead.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

the rhythm of the rain keeps time

prompt: storms

whumpee: neal caffrey

fandom: white collar

i feel like it’s been a hot minute since i’ve written wc and i can’t believe how much i missed writing these guys! this was a lot of fun to write and i hope that it’s alright to read! (title from jet pack blues by fall out boy, which has been sitting on my list of song lyrics to use as fic titles since i was like, 15)

Not even a minute after Neal has left his house, a boom of thunder rolls across the evening sky and a heavy rain begins to pour down. Neal keeps walking anyway, despite the storm, pulling his hat a bit lower on his head in an attempt to keep some of the rain off his face. 

The only thought on his mind is the Burkes. While turning around and going back inside, back into the warm, dry air, does sound pretty damn good, he knows he needs to get to their house above all else. He doesn’t know why, exactly. All he knows is that he feels bad, achy and hot with a pounding head, and Peter and El are usually good at fixing things. Ergo, he needs to go see them. 

Neal continues walking through the heavy rain, wrapping his arms around his torso in a rather useless attempt to stay warm. Truthfully, he’s pretty sure he’d been shivering even before it started raining, but if he’d been shivering then, he’s positively trembling now. He doesn’t think he has ever been this cold in his entire life. It feels as though the cold rain has soaked right through his skin and into his bones, like it’s freezing him from the inside out. He tries to walk faster to escape it, but only trips over his own feet, scraping his palms red and raw against the sidewalk when he falls. 

Neal pushes himself back up, wavering on his feet as a sudden rush of dizziness overtakes him. It passes eventually, and he continues walking, determined that he must make it to the Burkes’ house. As soon as he gets there, he knows that everything is going to be okay. He just has to keep walking. 

So he does. He walks, and walks, and walks, and wonders whether the Burkes’ house has always been this far away. At some point, he’s stopped really registering the cold. He wonders whether that might not be such a good thing, but can’t bring himself to care. 

He’s still shaking, and his footsteps take him all over the sidewalk and occasionally cause him to step off of it and down onto the edge of the road. He trips and falls at least three more times, though he’s not really keeping count. He thinks maybe there are holes in the knees of his pants now, which is a shame, since he’d really liked this suit. His shoes, too, have got to be ruined. He’s stepped in several ankle-deep puddles and can feel the water sloshing around inside them, but doesn’t have the strength or dexterity to get them off and get the water out. 

After an eternity of walking and stumbling and freezing and still feeling bad underneath it all, finally Neal sees the Burkes’ house. The lights are on, glowing invitingly, and he hastens his pace, nearly plowing down an old woman who is stepping into a taxi.

“S-sorry,” he manages to stutter out through his chattering teeth, but the word is so quiet he doubts that the woman had heard it at all. 

Going up the steps is one of the hardest parts of his entire journey, which up until now has not taken him on any great changes of elevation. His legs are trembling beneath him, and with every step he takes, he manages to bang his shoes into the stairs. He almost falls more than once, but manages to save himself by gripping onto the railing for all he’s worth. 

He’s fairly exhausted by the time he reaches the top step, and for a second he simply leans on the door and tries to catch his breath. He’s here. And Peter is here, and so is El, and Satchmo, and maybe there’s a fire in the fireplace, or maybe they had something warm for dinner and there are leftovers, or - 

The door opens, and suddenly he’s falling over the threshold, and all he thinks is not again, but before he can hit the ground, someone’s arms are wrapped around him, pulling him back up. 

“Neal?”

“H...hey, Peter.”

---

When a shadow appears on the doorstep shortly after eight, Peter’s a little cautious. Who on Earth would be showing up to his house in the middle of a thunderstorm without advance notice?

He opens the door slowly, a look through the peephole not revealing much in the dark of the late evening, and promptly is reminded of the one person who is the most likely culprit to show up at his house in the middle of a thunderstorm without advance notice.

He catches Neal’s soaking, freezing, shaking form before he can fall to the floor, quickly pulling the door shut behind him. “Neal?”

“H...hey, Peter,” Neal whispers, and Peter can hear his teeth chattering. He has about a million questions running through his head, and no idea which one to ask first, so for the moment, he forgoes any kind of conversation at all and simply shuttles Neal to the bathroom. “You wait here,” he instructs, settling Neal down onto the lid of the toilet. Neal complies easily, looking slightly lost but mostly relieved. 

“What’s going on?” El asks, as soon as Peter steps out of the bathroom. She looks past him, and is then immediately stepping around him and into the bathroom. “Neal, sweetie, are you okay?”

Peter looks on as Neal nods. “Jus’...needed t-to get here,” he says. “Knew I’d be...be okay then.”

El turns to look at him then, a soft expression on her face. “Peter -”

“Towels,” Peter replies, and El nods. 

After a quick trip upstairs to their bedroom and the linen closet, Peter makes his way back to the bathroom with a stack of towels in his arms. Sitting atop them is one of his old Academy t-shirts and a pair of flannel pajama pants, both of which he is hoping will fit Neal well enough. 

Peter pauses in the bathroom doorway with the towels and clothes in his arms. El is in the middle of bandaging scrapes on Neal’s palms that Peter hadn’t even noticed. Neal seems to barely register anything, but he does smile at El gratefully when she finishes. Peter takes that as his cue to enter the bathroom, setting the stack down onto the counter and looking at Neal questioningly.

“I...I got it,” Neal says, sounding about as determined as he can given his current state. Peter elects to believe him, and he and El clear out of the bathroom to let Neal extricate himself from his soaking-wet suit. 

“Do you think he walked here?” El asks, as she and Peter lean against opposite sides of the bathroom door to wait for Neal. 

A particularly loud clap of thunder rattles the windows as Peter says, “I wouldn’t doubt it. The way he looked...how badly he was shaking...he had to have been out in the rain for a while.”

El shakes her head. “He said he needed to get here.”

“I know,” Peter replies. “I just don’t know why.”

A few minutes later, Neal emerges from the bathroom. He looks a little out-of-place in pajamas, and his hair is sticking up in several different directions. This, frankly, worries Peter. He’s never known Neal to let his hair get messed up, even on the worst of days. 

“How do you feel?” El asks, as she and Peter each wrap an arm around Neal’s shoulders and guide him to the couch. 

Neal shrugs. “Not as cold,” he says, though he’s still shaking. “Still bad.”

“What do you mean, ‘still bad’?” Peter asks. He and El let Neal sink down onto the couch, and he grabs the blanket draped over one of the armrests, draping it over Neal’s shoulders. 

“I felt bad, before. ‘S why I came,” Neal explains. 

“Bad how?” El asks. 

“Just bad. Achy and hot and my head felt funny. ‘M not that hot anymore but everything else...” Neal trails off. 

“You’re probably sick,” Peter says, feeling slightly exasperated that Neal had put himself through the ordeal of walking to his house in a storm because he felt bad. Did he not realize that he had a phone?

“I guess,” is Neal’s reply. “Knew you could help.”

El and Peter turn to each other at the same time, both wearing similarly fond - if exasperated - looks. 

“Of course we can help,” Peter says. “But, you know, you could have just called me.”

Neal raises his eyebrows and says, “oh,” as though the thought is just now occurring to him. “Are you mad?”

El sinks down on the couch next to him. “Of course we’re not mad,” she says. Neal turns his head to look at Peter, who moves to sit on Neal’s other side. 

“Of course not,” Peter echoes. “You’re always welcome here, and I’m glad you came to us for help instead of suffering on your own. Even if you did end up causing yourself more suffering in the process.”

Neal nods, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He’s almost stopped shaking, Peter notices, which he takes as a sign that he and El can move from unfreezing Neal to getting him some help with his sickness. From what Neal had said, it’s most likely just a fever, which is a relief, because making it better does not require a trip to the drugstore in this weather. 

Peter and El both stand up at nearly the same moment. “We’ll be back,” El promises, and Neal nods, the rather forlorn look on his face brightening up considerably when Satchmo comes down the stairs with a cheerful jangling noise and promptly curls up at his feet.

Peter and El head into the kitchen, where Peter grabs some tylenol and a thermometer, and El makes a cup of peppermint tea. They return to the living room with their items to find Neal nearly asleep, still sitting up on the couch. Peter gently shakes his shoulder, and Neal opens his eyes. “I was gonna sleep,” he says, rather petulantly. 

“You can sleep in about two minutes,” Peter promises. “But you came here because you’re sick, so we’d like to help you out with that before you crash on our couch.”

“Okay,” Neal agrees, keeping his eyes open. Peter presses the thermometer to his forehead. 

“101.3,” Peter reports. “Nothing worrying, but it’s probably a bit higher since you’re still a little wet.” He hands Neal the tylenol, and El passes over the cup of tea. Neal swallows the pills dry, makes a face, then cautiously takes a sip of the tea, his hands wrapped firmly around the mug to absorb its warmth. 

Neal makes it about halfway through the tea before setting the cup back down onto the table, lying down curled on his side, pulling the blanket securely over himself in his new position, and promptly falling asleep. El and Peter share another look, all fondness this time, before turning off the living room lights and retreating to the dining room table, where they can sit and watch the storm rage outside, have some tea themselves, and talk about the conman-turned-something-like-family that is currently asleep on their couch.

thanks so much for reading this fic! fun fact it is my 100th fic posted to ao3 :) it’s somewhere around like my 140th on here which is not exciting but yeah. cannot believe how much stuff i have written? insane. anyway i hope you enjoyed! love y’all!

[procrastinatorimagines]

Okay Part 4

Fandom: One Chicago

Series: Okay

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Pairing: Halstead!Reader x Casey (eventually)

Warning/s: talk of death, arson, burns

Word Count: 1,722

Summary:  After narrowly escaping certain death you decided to turn your life around and become a firefighter, and although it wasn’t easy, you survived your first week at 51. Now, the strange circumstances of your very first fire lead you to a second, deadlier act. As you dig deeper, aided by your brothers and your new firehouse, you begin to realise just how in over your head you might be.

Tags: @alievans007​ // @louiselikeswriting

Jay was waiting for you as you and Casey pulled up outside of the hospital, heart pounding in your chest as you rushed out of the car towards him, mind racing. You weren’t at all surprised that Will had called him as well; someone was deliberately targeting this family. 

“Where are they?” You asked as you reached him, all three of you heading into Med together as Jay explained the situation. He looked tired, and frustrated, and you knew your brother well enough to know that he was angry with himself for not being able to do more in the beginning to help this case.

“Lily’s upstairs, she’s burned pretty bad on her arm but other than that, Will says that she’s going to be okay, they have her upstairs for observation, she took in smoke,” he explained and you swallowed hard, that little girl had just lost her mother and had barely made it out of her second fire in a week, she was anything but okay.

“What about the friend?” Matt asked, the look on Jay’s face being enough of an answer. 

He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “She didn’t make it, lost her soon after Will called you,” he told you, watching the look of horror you shared with Matt as you all got into the elevator. 

“Do we have, anything?” You gestured in the air with your arms, voice shaking with the same frustration you’d seen in your brother only moments before. As much as it horrified you, you knew that this wasn’t over. The mother hadn’t been home when the first fire was set, and Lily had been put somewhere she couldn’t escape, and now this fire... Someone was trying to kill this child, burn her alive. Who would do such a thing?

“The friend gave us something in the ambo, a black dodge charger drove the block a couple of times throughout the day, only stopped once just before the fire started,” Jay informed you. 

“License plate?” Matt asked, but you knew that it would be too good to be true before Jay even answered.

“Not yet, but we’re canvasing and checking cameras around the area,” he tried his best to sound optimistic, but you could tell it was waring thin.

Your blood was boiling as you got to the PICU, your hands in fists as Jay flagged down Will and Nat. Boden was there too, you realised, talking in hushed tones with Goodwin off to one side.

Matt and Boden shared an acknowledging nod before squeezing your shoulder, offering you a reassuring smile before heading off to talk to the chief. You headed straight for your brothers and Nat, trying your best to take some calming breaths. Getting worked up wouldn’t help Lily.

“Glad you made it,” Will said, following your eyes to where they landed on Lily in a room off to the left. 

“Where else would I be?” Lily was lying in the hospital bed, left arm bandaged up and the right maintaining a death grip on the stuffed bear you’d first found her with. Her hair had been burned too, currently in choppy and mismatched lengths, and with her white hospital gown she looked like a ghost.

Your heart was breaking as you watched her, only half listening to Will and Nat discuss her condition and situation. DCFS had been called obviously, but she hadn’t spoken to anyone and she wasn’t in a state to be discharged yet, not that they knew who to discharge her too at the moment. If she really was the target - who would she be safe with?

The conversation going on around you was probably one you should have been listening to intently, but you zoned out more and more as you watched Lily, barely blinking as she stared a head of her, softly crying to herself. She looked in shock, unsurprisingly. 

You still hadn’t gotten over the trauma of your first brush with death, the suffocating heat and blind panic woke you up in the middle of the night, panting and sweating, so tangled in your own sheets that it felt like you were tied up again. But you were a grown woman, and Lily was a 7 year old girl who, on top of now surviving two fires, had just lost her mom. 

Before you realised it, you’d gravitated away from the conversation towards the door to Lily’s room. The others didn’t stop you, no one else had had any luck getting her to talk but you thought that you might, remembering the way she’d clung to you during the first fire. 

She looked up when you knocked, looking even smaller than you remembered, and although she didn’t say you could enter, she didn’t tell you to leave either, so you slowly made your way inside, offering her a small smile and sympathetic eyes.  

“Hey Lily,” you greeted her, talking and moving slowly so as not to scare her, “do you mind if I sit?” You gestured to the end of the bed and although she still didn’t say anything, her eyes continued to follow you and she curled her legs under herself to give you more room. Sitting, you watched her carefully, her frightened movements, hollow and distant eyes, shallow breathing... 

You wanted to pull her into a hug, wrap her in your arms and keep her safe from the world. She didn’t deserve this, and whoever had done this wasn’t going to get away with it, you’d make sure.

“Do you remember me Lily? I’m Y/N.” You tried, her chin tilting a little in a slight nod. 

“Found me...” she managed to mumble, her voice tiny and hoarse. It was the first time you’d really heard her speak, her bottom lip trembling as she did.

You saw the door open out the corner of your eye and Matt slid in, smiling softly as he took a seat next to you on the bed. Lily didn’t object, she actually looked a little less afraid, definitely recognising the both of you.

“Hey Lily,” Matt said, “how are you feeling?” He was good with kids, you’d seen it in the few calls you’d been on involving children so far, and Lily seemed to visibly relax in his presence. 

“My arm feels funny,” she told you both, looking to the bandages on her burned arm. She must have been on some kind of painkillers, you realised, which might explain why she was still a little out of it.

“How about teddy? I don’t think I caught her name the first time we met,” Casey leaned over you slightly and bopped the bear on the nose. Lily gave the faintest smile, but it was something as Matt leaned back, still very close to you as you both tried to sit on the bed and give Lily her space.

“His name’s Matty Bear,” she hugged the bear closer to her, pulling it right up to her cheek. 

Matt grinned at the name, “you know, my name’s Matt too.” The little light that came back into her eyes warmed your heart as your eyes flicked between her and Matt.

“Really?” She asked, her voice getting a little louder and more confident. Matt nodded and she smiled, satisfied with his answer.

“My mommy gave her to me,” she explained, “do you know when she’s coming to get me?”

Your face fell and you turned to Matt, watching the smile disappear from his face. She had been told, you’d heard Will say that much at least.

“This sometimes happens in shock,” Matt whispered to you, “it’s probably best not to upset her now, she needs her sleep.” You knew he was right, but it was still hard to hear, this whole thing was hard. 

You did your best to plaster on a smile as you stood with Matt. “You know what? I’m not sure, how about we go check and you can get some rest okay?” You suggested, squeezing her leg as she nodded, eyes already fluttering closed as Matt held the door open for you looking glum.

When the door was closed you too a deep breath, meeting Jay and Will in the hall. “Did she give you anything?” Jay asked but you shook your head.

“She needs rest,” Matt told him and Will very much agreed.

“I don’t want to leave her,” you said to no one in particular.

“I know, but we have shift in the morning and you need to get at least some sleep,” Matt advised. You knew he was right, but still, you knew you weren’t going to sleep anyway.

“I’ll leave an officer with her just in case, and I spoke to Boden before he left, we’ll head to both crime scenes again tomorrow, go over everything step by step, hopefully we’ll have a lead on this charger by then too,” Jay told you, patting you on the arm as he left to answer his phone.

“And I’ll keep an eye on her tonight,” Will promised, leaving you with Matt, who was regarding you cautiously again. You knew why, while this wasn’t by any means a typical case, Matt had been doing this job a lot longer than you, and he was the only one who’d seen your panic attack during the first fire.

In all the commotion of this case, you weren’t even sure if he’d told Boden or anyone else about it or not, and you certainly hadn’t talked about it again, but you knew he was thinking about it now.

“I’m okay,” you insisted, standing up a little straighter.

“No you’re not, and I don’t expect you to be, I’m not okay Y/N,” Matt said, meeting the defensiveness in your eyes. “How about we go see Lily during shift tomorrow? If not, we can both go straight after, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grateful that Matt was facing this case with the same energy as you. 

“Now come on, I’ll drive you home,” he put a hand on your shoulder in comfort and support as you wandered back towards the elevator. 

You were exhausted, and you knew your shift tomorrow was going to be long, but you were determined; someone had tried to kill this little girl twice now, and you weren’t going to let it get to a third.

[malereader-inserts]

Weathering Our Feelings

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Tony Stark & Male Reader Summary: You often describe what you’re feeling in terms of weathers. Word Count: 1,107 Warning: Anxiety, Depression, talks of suicide, shitty metaphors - no the reader is not colour blind. A/n: My heart is heavy, my shoulders are tired and I want the world to continue without me - Tony is really my safe character to write about sad stuff.

There are days that a greyer than most. 

You feel like you’ve been living in a world of grey and there will be no sign of colour soon. The world continues to spin, the days shift to nights, it feels like you’ve been living life on autopilot. Most days you find yourself in bed, wrapped up in your duvet. Sometimes you check your social media, others you stare at the wall. 

A horrible feeling of not realising that you’re a human being. You forget to eat, or purposely don’t eat because that requires a lot of energy, and frankly, you don’t have enough. Showers are exhausting, the state of your room was to the point that you questioned if there was a floor, hoping that if you decided to leave you bed, the floor will engulf you whole and never spit you back into the land of the living.

Some days, there felt like hurricanes, the anxiety building up in you, escalating to tornadoes. The rapid feeling never washing away and the burning sensation of panic scarring your insides. There are days that feel like it’s hailing, the stones crashing against your skin - painful, reminding when your depression was at it’s worst. Then there’s the rainy days, those where you feel at most numb to the world.

So, disconnected. 

Tony is by your side. Whenever you decided to get up and shower, brush your teeth and change clothes - he’ll send you an uplifting smile. Nodding and praising you, “Nice one bud!”

He means well because you always seem to beam at his encouragement. Tony makes sure you eat, he delivers food at your door, leaving it on a tray at the base of your door. Knocking and leaving, you wait for a bit to retrieve it because you don’t want to be seen by anyone. You eat a bit, sometimes half, on better days more than a half, rarer days Tony finds an empty plate at the tray.

“Hey, glad you’re eating,” He would say at the door sometimes.

“Proud of you,” can be often uttered by him.

“You did the best today, you know?” 

It’s the little things that he said to you. Sometimes, you see or feel his presence at the other side of the door - and amidst the shades of grey in your life, he was a shining gold. You know that he make sure Friday checks up on you, every now and then, but that he would take minutes of his day just to come to your door was sweet.

“You’re amazing, (Y/n),” Tony says, “Absolutely brilliant.”

One day, Tony found your door slightly ajar. He didn’t know what to do, staying on the other side he was thinking of what to say, something to hopefully cheer you up. 

“Hi Tony,” You murmured, you had been waiting for him.

You sat next to your open door, a travelling pillow around your neck as you sat in your joggers and a hoodie. Tony looked down to see you slightly, he smiles to himself and sat himself down to get a better view of you. Getting comfy and leaving a good amount of space between you two so he didn’t feel like he was intruding your safe bubble.

“Hey, kid,” Tony answered, his back leaning against the wall, looking at you momentarily, “Any reason why you’re at the door?”

“Wanted to talk to you.”

Tony smiles softly, nodding, “What do you want to talk about?”

So, he listens, and he talks. Anything to keep you distracted from your sadness festering within you. He sees a garden of potential in you, but there are too many rainy days and storms that destroy the flowers within - destroyed and barely growing to be alive. But, there is one plant within the garden of yours, that Tony knows can endure all the hurt the weather can come to.

It’s that fraction of hope to other plants and flowers, hope that there will day that they have time to strive for the sun. Tony knows what you feel, he spent days, weeks, alone with his thoughts - he doesn’t want you to think you’re alone. His words might come out the wrong way but at least it’s a break from your thoughts.

It interrupts what you’re thinking when you hear his voice, bring you back to reality. Bringing back that you are just human, a human with power, but human nevertheless. 

“There will always be a battle between the man I am and the man I need to be,” You softly confessed, “There are days where I just want to give up, but other days, I hear your voice and think to myself. That is a man I want to see myself grow into.”

“I’m not-” Tony was taken back with your words, looking at you - a young adult man, lost in a cruel world, “Why me?”

“Because,” You shrugged your shoulders, “I grew up looking at a selfish prick of a billionaire. I became friends with a selfless man who put himself last on the list of priorities. You grew, you learnt, you became better, and for that - it’s admirable.”

“You’re pretty admirable too, (Y/n).”

You snorted, it’s been a while since Tony heard that from you as you looked at him unconvincingly, “How so?”

“You’re brave. You wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left you so tired the night before,” Tony looks at your tired eyes, “It’s admirable because every day you continue a fight.”

There was silence between you two.

“I don’t want to die, you know?” You continued after the beat of silence, “I just want to, I don’t know, feel better? Feel fine. I know life is so fucking precious, and I’m too much of a coward to even attempt-.”

“Is that how you really feel?” Tony asked, interrupting as you lock eyes before you sighed in defeat, casting your eyes to your lap.

“I once heard that there are people with cancer who doesn’t have the choice to live, and for me to take my life away seems so selfish when people cannot prevent themselves from dying. A new perspective.”

“You know we’re here for you,” Tony continues, nodding, understanding your reply, “I know there are days for you that get up to blizzards and hurricanes, but, when you’re ready - we’re here, and we aren’t going anywhere.”

“You really mean that?”

“Every word.”

“Every word?”

“Every word.”

You looked at Tony, there was gentleness behind his concern. There was something about him, and that his burst of gold really did stand out in a world of grey to you. 

[wisteriawritings]

To Start Anew

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Ship: F!Aeducan x Gorim

Warnings: None

Genre: Angst

WC: 1933

Blurb: After the ultimate betrayal, Terra Aeducan has been exiled to the deep roads. Through extraordinary circumstances, she fights her way to the surface and becomes Thedas’s last hope against the coming blight. However, during her journey she must deal with painful truths about her family, her life back in Orzammar, and what her future may be.

They had only just arrived in Denerim. Terra Aeducan, with Alistair, Morrigan, and an affectionate Mabari in tow, had come in search of Andraste’s ashes. The hunt for allies against the oncoming blight had hardly begun, yet they were all bone tired. It was the exhaustion that led her to believe that she was imagining things. That Gorim’s sweet, warm voice was only in her mind. Even so, the sound pulled her towards the center of town, like a chain wrapped around her middle was dragging her forwards.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked, seeing the color had drained from her face.

“I just… I’m going to step away for a bit. I’ll meet you at the inn, yeah?”

Alistair nodded, though reluctantly. Alistair was tooth-rottingly sweet and Terra tried to summon the best smile she could to set him at ease and send him away. He was becoming a quick and dear friend to her, and she didn’t want him to see her in what seemed to be a lapse in sanity.

“Dwarven crafts!”

There it was again. Terra, her spine now stiff as stone, hurried away and through the bustling streets, following the voice. Dwarven crafts? It could be anyone though. Any number of low-born Orzammar men who left for the surface could be in town. It wasn’t uncommon, and neither was the accent. It probably wasn’t him, wouldn’t be him, couldn’t be him. She rounded the corner and in the square she saw him

Terra’s hands tremored. Words like “I missed you,” “I found you,” and “thank the fucking stone,” all caught in her throat. Her hands grasped at it desperately, trying to free them. Because there he was. Just a few yards away stood her best friend and the man she loved: Gorim.

She tried to call out his name, but only pitiful, strangled noises escaped her lips. But he saw her. His face – it was tanner now; it had finally seen the sun – lit up in shock, disbelief, joy. All the things she felt were reflected back to her. Her throat was still sealed shut, but her feet started moving. Suddenly she was running, running faster than she had ever run, straight into arms that opened wide at the sight of her. Solid, strong arms that knew the curve and the shape of her body so well. Arms that slid into their place so easily, it was like slipping on a pair of gloves. For the first time since she left Orzammar, her feet felt firmly planted on the ground. She was finally rooted to the earth the way she used to be, and the sky wasn’t threatening to swallow her whole anymore.

For a few blissful seconds, the Blight was far away, and Bhelen never betrayed her. With tearful eyes, Gorim studied her face with an intensity that felt like he was boring into her soul. He looked as if he were taking inventory of her features, ensuring that each one was accounted for and just as he remembered them. “I knew you would make it out. I never stopped believing,” he said softly. Suddenly his face changed, lighting up as if he were remembering something.

“I have something for you.” He bent down to a chest that lay under the table. After a few moments of rummaging, he produced a letter. “Before I left for the surface, King Endrin sent me with this. We both hoped against hope that I would find you up here.”

Terra’s heart, which was already pounding, somehow beat even harder at these words. “Father? How is he?” The thought of seeing her father again filled her with so much joy and longing she could hardly stand it. She felt like her heart was swelling so large it was pressing against her ribs.

“Oh, my lady…I’m so sorry,” Gorim said, in a voice so sad and soft it sent bolts of fear down Terra’s spine. But she knew what those words meant. The pressure in her chest deepened and sunk to reach down into her stomach too. She felt faint.

“If a man can die of a broken heart… King Endrin did.”

“But what happened to him?” She asked, trying to hold back the tears. Gorim hesitated, but Terra’s hard look of pain and determination gave him the permission he needed to part with the grisly details. “After Trian’s death-…no, murder, Endrin was stricken with too much grief and confusion to see that Bhelan had constructed it all. It didn’t take long for him to find his mind again, but by then it was already too late. You were already locked in the deep roads. That’s why it all happened so quickly. That bastard Bhelen knew he had to dispose of you before the shock of it all wore off.” Gorim looked at his feet and took a long, shaky breath before continuing. “It was like he just… wasted away. He couldn’t go on living, like he was a ghost.”

Terra squeezed his hand. She focused on that feeling; homed in on the way he callouses rubbed against the palm of her hand. It was the only tangible thing keeping her anchored to reality. Gorim looked at her for a reassurance that she wanted him to continue. She nodded grimly. She was sick to her stomach, but she had to know the whole story. It was her duty as a daughter and as an Aeducan.

“When he called me to him, just before I left… the room stank of decay. It was as if he had already been long dead. He was already a corpse, just waiting for his time to return to the stone. All he could talk about was you.” His other hand took hold of her shoulder, steadying her. She hadn’t even realized she was swaying. “Terra, he sent me with more than just a letter.”

Gorim fished in his pocket and took out a worn velvet purse. Among the coins glinted a chunk of golden metal. Terra blinked her tears away and saw that no, it wasn’t a nugget. It was the Aeducan signet ring. Trian’s ring.

He gently placed it in her hand and folded it into a fist.

“He loved you, Terra. That nug-fucker Bhelen, he’s not a real Aeducan. You’re the true last heir, and your father knew it. You deserve this, and no one else. He made that much clear.”

The ring felt heavy in her hand, like she held all of Orzammar in her palm. In a way, she supposed, she did. But she felt that she could bear it as long as Gorim held her other hand.

“I’m just so glad I found you. Thank the stone, thank the stone…” Terra drew herself closer to him, ready to step back into his embrace and find his lips. But a look she couldn’t quite decipher crossed his face, and he took a step back.

“My lady, there’s something else I should tell you. I’ve, well… I’ve found a life on the surface. A blacksmith’s daughter; we’re expecting our first. She’s… she’s lovely and…” Gorim trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

The world seemed to go still around her. Her heart, which had been thumping loudly in her ears just moments before, fell quiet. A few seconds passed, but they felt like centuries.

“I don’t understand…” Terra’s voice quivered, and she hated herself for it. “You said you’ve been waiting for me.”

Gorim’s face flushed red and he looked down at his feet. “I have been, of course. But… well…” Gorim stammered, his shoulders slumped. Terra thought that he looked almost like a scolded child caught stealing sweets before supper. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. He had been in Denerim for how long? Two months now, maybe? And he still hasn’t come up with a good explanation as to how he tripped and fell into a smith’s girl, all while claiming to ‘know she had made it out’.

He mustered the courage to meet her gaze again and flushed an even deeper red. He had always been able to tell what she was thinking, as if her very mind was binded to his own. She could feel his shame radiating off of him like a sickness. He knew he had done wrong. He knew that as a knight, he had acted shamefully. And she knew it too. Some dark corner of her soul felt gratified in this, gleeful in his self-loathing. She felt the anger rising.

“So let me make sure I understand,” she began, her words already dripping in venom. “You know, or hoped, or believed or what have you, that I was alive on the surface. And you, as my second, sworn to serve and protect me until death, fucked me and whispered sweet nothings to me in Orzammar. But when you’re separated from me for two months – oh, less than that actually, since she’s already knocked up – you decided to live it up with the first surfacer you see?”

Gorim’s eyes filled with tears. “It wasn’t like that,” he said firmly, but she could hear the tremble in his voice.

“Then what was it like?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but I didn’t jump in bed with a surfacer. I searched for you Gorim.”

“My lady… We never could have been together. You know that.”

All of a sudden she understood, and the tears she had been holding back came slipping across her face. It didn’t matter what happened, or what he believed. Gorim was an outcast, a surfacer. Je was stripped of his caste his family name. But Terra? To him, she was still Lady Aeducan, and she always would be. Even if they had stayed in Orzammar, if Bhelen had never betrayed them, he would still think himself beneath her. He might have loved her perhaps, but he would have walked away eventually. He could never see himself as more than her second.

She realized she had been squeezing the signet ring in her hand. She relaxed her fist and saw her house crest bored into her palm like a brand. Gorim watched her as she first tried it on her ring finger and then settled with slipping it on her thumb. Trian’s hands had been bigger than hers.

Gorim reached out to comfort her, but drew back, unsure of himself. “My lady, if I had known you were alive…”

Terra glanced back up at him scornfully. “Either you did, or you didn’t.”

He reared back as if he had been struck, but he knew he deserved it. She saw no trace of resentment in his eyes. She looked at him for a hard moment and her anger fizzled out, leaving her with nothing but a cold hollow in her stomach and the crushing weight of her loneliness. Gorim’s cheeks were wet from silent tears.

“I hope I’ll have time to meet her soon,” Terra said.

“I’d like that. My door is always open to you.”

“I love you, Gorim. I hope you’re happy,” she confessed. Her heart gave one last weak tug at what had been between them.

“The same for you.”

She immediately recognized that he had not confirmed his happiness, and Gorim saw it in her face. Before he could say anything else, she turned away to rejoin her group.

Terra glanced up at the sky, vast and unending above her. Her family crest rested upon her finger and its weight, though heavy, was a comfort to her. She had a blight to end, and she didn’t need Gorim to do it.