#vigil series 2

[breathedeep-namaste]

Merry Christmas, Darling

Summary: Amy Silva and Kirsten Longacre looking at lights with Poppy and exchanging Christmas presents. Takes place between seasons one and two. Fluff!

“Aye, this one is actually my favourite!” Kirsten turned up the dial of the car radio as Shane McGowan’s distinct voice began crooning, it was Christmas Eve babe, in the drunk tank…

“You’ve said that about the last three songs!” Amy laughed as she lightly clutched the steering wheel. Kirsten ignored her, fully committed to the cheeky Irish tune.

“Merrrrrrrry Christmas, I looooove you baby…” she sang, exaggeratedly, reaching out and squeezing Amy’s knee. Amy rolled her eyes playfully, but reached down and gave Kirsten’s hand a squeeze. It was impossible not to find her girlfriend endearing. “Oooh, Pops – look at those!” Kirsten turned around so that she could watch Poppy’s face as the young girl spotted an over-the-top display of rainbow lights, complete with a robotic waving Santa Claus and Rudolph with a bright red nose.

The three of them had been driving around for about thirty minutes now, slowly making their way slowly but surely back to Morag and Gordon’s to drop off Poppy for the rest of the holiday. cheerful chime of laughter filled the car as they drove Poppy back to her grandparents' house. Poppy sat in the back seat, her eyes shining with the magic of Christmas lights outside the window. The little girls eyes twinkled in the sparkling lights as she ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed at the display. They passed it and a couple more, before the road went dark as they approached the more rural stretch towards Poppy’s grandparents.

"I wish I could stay with you tonight," Poppy said with a pout, though it wasn’t entirely serious. The little family had had a brilliant day – building a gingerbread house, watching Christmas films, eating sweets and finally, exchanging gifts. Poppy had been to pick out a few presents with her grandparents, things that a little girl would be inclined towards for a parent – a scented candle, some slippers for each of them and a small canvas pouch with a rainbow embroidered onto it “because Fred at school says that rainbows are for gay pride”. But their most cherished gift from the young girl had been the card – a family portrait on coloured paper that showed both women, Poppy and Cat drawn in crayon. “Merry Christmas Mums” it read across the bottom. While they were preparing for joint custody beginning in the new year, with Poppy getting ready to move in with them in the first week of January, it still felt surreal to Kirsten that she’d be accepted so willingly.

Amy looked back at Poppy through her rear-view mirror, a gentle smile on her face. "I know, sweetheart. We wish you could stay, too. But hey, guess what? This time next year, we’ll all be together. Maybe even in a new house, with Christmas lights of our own…” the brunette said thoughtfully. Though they were initially moving Poppy into Amy’s flat, the couple already had plans to work with a realtor and find something bigger and more suitable for Poppy.

Poppy's eyes widened with excitement, and she clapped her hands. "Really? Promise?"

Amy nodded, her heart full. "Promise. Cross my heart." She brought one finger up to her chest and drew an ‘x’, though Poppy couldn’t see. Kirsten watched Amy lovingly from the passanger seat, listening though she was still softly singing her (3rd) favourite Christmas song to herself. Her eyes widened involuntarily as the song began to reach it’s less festive (or child-appropriate) middle verse – her hand shot up to the volume dial and she turned it down completely, plunging the car into silence for a long moment before she and Amy exchanged a knowing glance. Tentatively, Kirsten turned it back up, hoping she’d missed the profanity, just in time for Kirsty MacColl to sing ‘you cheap lousy fa-‘ at full blast. Amy and Kirsten erupted into laughter, Poppy largely oblivious anyway. “Favourite song, huh?” Amy quipped, raising one eyebrow.

“Aye,” Kirsten laughed. “Still a classic.”

They took a more direct route home after dropping off Poppy, Christmas music still playing softly as Kirsten sang along and Amy drove. They had been together for most of the year now, as well as parts of last year, before Kirsten had ended things, but this was their first Christmas together. They’d spent much of the festive season exchanging stories and traditions – Kirsten’s love of Christmas music of course was now well established, Amy’s grandmother had passed down a recipe for minced pies that they’d assembled with Poppy, ready to bake in the morning. Kirsten’s Dad had always insisted on watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ on the night of Christmas Eve, and playing a game of poker with their extended family. She’d only insisted Amy continue one of these traditions with her, and Amy had picked up the film on DVD so that they could watch it that evening.

“Did your family ever open a gift on Christmas Eve?” Amy asked, turning down the Christmas radio just slightly and glancing over at her partner.

“Nooooo,” Kirsten scoffed playfully. “Mum was very insistent that we wait for St. Nicolas. Christmas Eve was for mass with Nan, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and listening out for reindeer.” She grinned at the memory. “Why, I didn’t think you did?”

“No we didn’t,” Amy agreed, nodding subtly. “But… if you don’t have any objections… maybe we could start a new tradition?” Then, softly chuckling to herself. “I’m just not sure I can wait until tomorrow,” She squinted her eyes slightly, playfully scrunching her nose. “My gift is pretty good.”

“Oh Amy Silva, don’t let anyone tell you you aren’t modest,” Kirsten joked. She leaned back against the passenger seat, wiggling a bit and lifting her hips to stretch out her legs, suddenly impatient and eager to get home. “Aye, we could do that. My gift is pretty good too.”

Amy didn’t say anything in response, but she reached down and gave Kirsten’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“After the movie though. Can’t have you falling asleep on me,” Kirsten quipped. Amy had confided in her a few weeks prior that she hadn’t actually seen the Christmas classic, finding it too long and falling asleep the last time she’d given it ago, though that was long before Kirsten. She tended to prefer daft Christmas comedies and was amusingly partial to Bad Santa.

“Deal.” Amy agreed, and they drove the rest of the way home in comfortable silence, besides Kirsten’s quiet humming to the radio.

“We’ll take a cup of kindness dear,” Kirsten sang along softly with the final scene of the movie, planting a soft kiss on Amy’s temple as the woman shifted in her arms, blinking with heavy eyelids. She hadn’t been sleeping, she had actually quite enjoyed the film – but it was nearly midnight and the emptied glass of Bailey’s over ice now sitting on the coffee table hadn’t done her any favours. Kirsten gently traced circles on Amy’s hand, feeling the weight of the moment – new traditions forming, a quiet anticipation before they would exchange their gifts. Amy turned around in Kirsten’s arms, resting her chin on the other woman’s chest.

“Shall we?” she said softly, her eyes tracing an invisible line between Kirsten’s own and the Christmas tree.

Kirsten nodded, carefully separating herself from girlfriend so that they were both seated.

“Who goes first?” she asked, quizzically eyeing up Amy. “At home it’s always the youngest,” the red head grinned.

“Be my guest then,” Amy smiled, amused but resigned, gesturing towards the tree. Kirsten brought herself to standing, shaking out one of her legs that had slight pins and needles after two hours and ten minutes curled up on the couch. Once comfortable, she headed straight for a particular spot under the tree and picked up a square box slightly smaller than her palm. She sat down again, playing with the box in her hands for a moment before handing it to Amy.

“Oh I hope you like it,” she mumbled, suddenly nervous. Christmas was important to her, though she knew she was likely overthinking it.

“I will.” Amy said confidently, leaning over to Kirsten and kissing her gently before refocusing on the gift. Kirsten’s eyes lingered over the other woman with anticipation.

Amy carefully unwrapped it, revealing a square shaped jewellery box underneath. She raised her eyebrows, wondering just briefly what may lay inside, though she didn’t draw out the moment. Gently she pulled off the lid of the box, revealing two delicate necklaces. The first was a dainty gold gain with a round pendant, engraved with a Poppy. And just below was another gold chain, this one adorned a combination of small round beads and longer but equally subtle tube-shaped ones which Amy instantly recognised as morse code for “I love you”.

“Wow, Kirsten,” Amy looked lovingly from her gift to her partner, her eyes reflecting the depth of appreciation she felt. Not just for the gift, but for a partner that knew her so well, and made her feel so loved. "It's perfect. So… us.” she whispered with a contented smile, savouring the moment. Amy then leaned even closer to Kirsten, resting her head briefly against Kirsten’s shoulder. Kirsten returned the affectionate gesture, tilting her head down towards Amy’s before turning it and moving her fingertips to the other woman’s chin, gently lifting it.

With her other hand she reached over to the necklace, tracing the morse code with her finger. "I love you,” she said simply, pressing her forehead to Amy’s. She let her eyes linger, holding Amy’s gaze for a few seconds, adoring her warm brown eyes. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered before tilting her chin up and meeting Amy’s lips with hers. Her hand moved from Amy’s chin to gently cup her face and eventually softly clutching at the back of Amy’s neck as the kiss deepened.

After a few moments Amy slowly pulled away, kissing Kirsten just to the right of her lips, then on the cheek, before finally sitting back.

“My turn,” she ran her hands across her own thighs, taking a deep and slightly nervous breath. She was confident that the present she had chosen was a match for Kirsten’s lovely gesture, but there was still something about it that made her almost shy, which wasn’t an emotion she felt often anymore around the other woman.

Amy got down onto her hands and knees in order to reach underneath the Christmas tree to the very back, where she picked up a small, conspicuously shaped parcel. She’d hidden it so as not to raise questions in Kirsten’s mind. It was a ring, yes, but not of the diamond variety. Still, she and Kirsten were about to embark on the most serious phase of their relationship yet – they had lived together already for several months, but bringing Poppy into the picture. Starting a family, officially, was something they discussed often. She wanted Kirsten to have a symbol of the commitment that she felt and saw returned in the way Kirsten was so willing to raise Poppy with her, to be a Mum alongside her.

“Here,” she whispered, placing the box onto Kirsten’s lap before pulling herself back up onto the couch beside her. She placed her hand on Kirsten’s leg, squeezing it gently with anticipation and gently moving her fingers across the woman’s inner thigh.

Kirsten sucked in her breath, noticing the slight change in Amy’s demeanour and the size and shape of the box. Without saying anything, she lifted it off of her lap and began to unwrap it. She looked at Amy before opening, eyes wide and unsure. Amy nodded, indicating that she could go on, which did confuse Kirsten slightly. If Amy was proposing, she wasn’t making it very clear.

Kirsten tilted the box open herself, revealing a delicate gold band. It was a simple yet elegant piece, and Kirsten ran her finger over it, once again meeting Amy’s eyes.

“It’s… not an engagement ring,” Amy said slowly, watching Kirsten’s face for any indication of disappointment, but it didn’t come. Kirsten’s eyes were patient and kind. Loving. “But it is a promise.” She reached up to her own chest, just as she had earlier with Poppy, and drew an ‘X’ over her heart. “I love you, Kirsten. Our little family… it is everything to me. And I wanted you to have a symbol of that.”

Touched by the sentiment, Kirsten slipped the ring onto her left hand, then fanned out her fingers and presented her hand to Amy. “I love it, Amy. And I love you.”

Amy let out her breath, which she hadn’t realized she had been holding. A wave of relief washed over her as she released the worry that Kirsten would be dissatisfied. Amy had always been unsure about marriage, even before falling for Kirsten. Poppy had always been rooting for her to marry Ioan, and she carried a certain amount of guilt that she’d always had a bit of a mental block about the idea. Since meeting Kirsten, everything she’d known about herself had been challenged. And while she was fairly confident that one day she would marry the other woman, and absolutely certain that she would be with her forever, this felt like the right gesture for them, for now.

Amy wrapped her arms around Kirsten’s shoulders, pulling them both down against the back of the couch. Kirsten turned her body so that she could lay against Amy’s side, hand on her chest, still admiring the ring. She had accepted Amy, for all of her, a long time ago. She knew what a big deal this was for her, engagement ring or not. That was what made it so endearing.

“Merry Christmas, Amy…” she said softly, pointing with a finger to the clock on the wall which showed it was now past midnight.

“Merry Christmas darling,” Amy replied, kissing Kirsten’s forehead as they lay in the glow of the Christmas tree, fingers tracing down her partner’s arm. “To many more…”

[tekdiver]

Vigil - Series 2 💥 | BBC - Trailer

[cradle-view]

Vigil Season 2 Release Date, Cast, Plot, & More

Fans of the hit BBC drama Vigil are eagerly anticipating the release of Vigil series 2. For the second season of the BBC ratings success, Suranne Jones and Rose Leslie are taking to the skies, and nine new cast members will be joining them, including Dougray Scott and Romola Garai. In this post, we will discuss everything you need to know about the Vigil season 2 release date. When is Vigil…

[occidentaltourist]

bbc: Some sweet #Silvacre content for your FYP ❤️

[nightinngales]

[robsheridan]

[Update: Apocalypse in Pink part 2 is out now]

Before Barbenheimer, there was “Apocalypse in Pink,” the August 1983 theme of fashion/culture magazine SPECTAGORIA. The issue’s controversial imagery of Barbie-esque models attempting to stay gorgeous and glamorous amidst nuclear annihilation sought to, in the words of editor/photographer Sera Clairmont, “revel in the morbid absurdity of the new American condition,” an “anxiety vibrating underneath all our plastic smiles.”

“It’s The Hot Pink Cold War,” Clairmont wrote in her introduction. “It’s ‘Material Girl’ on the radio and ‘WarGames’ at the drive-in. It’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ interrupted by the emergency broadcast signal. We’re told to look sexy, dress fashionable, make money, and spend money, but be sure we’re just the right amount of terrified about the bomb. Get that Malibu dream home, keep working on that perfect body, sip cocktails by the pool in your little pink bikini and watching the stocks go up — but STAY VIGILANT! and for God’s sake vote Republican, because that dream home could melt into a pink plastic inferno at any given moment. Just don’t stop smiling as the blast liquefies your skin into bubbling ooze like a Barbie doll in a microwave - it’s bad for the economy.”

***Continued in PART 2***

---------

NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

[spacecowboybriony]

I’m in love with Suranne Jones again 🤷‍♀️

[syoddeye]

something something possessed by a worm. you're soap's captive girlfriend who got the call that he was shot. i wrote this between the hours of 2-3 am, so let's be chill. ~1.3k words.

cw: italics, imprisonment/abduction, surveillance, medical inaccuracies we breeze right over, threats of violence, collaring, stalking, noncon blowjob.

on paper, it looks bad. it looks cruel. yet, you can’t bring yourself to care—johnny’s injury is a blessing.

it feels like you won the lottery, picking up the emergency phone. inbound calls only. you were so sure it was him, warning you of his imminent return.

playing the part of a devastated partner is easy. the englishman on the other end of the call sympathizes with your crocodile tears and helpfully tells you that someone will fetch you tomorrow morning. that you'll be brought, at no expense, to sit vigil at your boyfriend's side at the hospital. you hear the word ‘coma’, and launch out of bed. you only half listen to the rest of the conversation, hurriedly packing a bag as he drones. you can't end the call fast enough.

dismantling the flat comes first. you smash the cameras and flush the bugs. pry the tracker tag off your collar and bloody your fingers in the process. later, you’ll stick it on a bus.

you scour every nook and cranny, eventually finding the steel box you've seen john fiddling with. after trial and error, you pick the lock, and it’s a relief to see your id and passport again. it’s like a time capsule. past you offers a genuine, albeit shy smile, and you mutter an apology as you tuck her into a pocket. the last of the snacks he’d left go in with your clothes, as well as the few expensive-looking heirlooms he keeps around the flat. 

someone might call about the wide-eyed, crazed woman jumping off the balcony into the bushes. it’s a risk you take. the nearest pawnbroker, if you remember correctly, is only a ten-minute walk away. the cash you end up with isn’t much, but it's the first chunk of money that's yours in ages.

you hold your breath from glasgow to amsterdam and, by sheer luck, find your godmother’s place by memory alone. she’s surprised to find you on her doorstep, but she buys your story of an au pair job gone sour and lets you stay. truth and reality are too humiliating and too risky so long as you’re on european soil. you lay low, but nobody turns up. no one comes looking.

out of an abundance of caution, you cut and dye your hair anyway. you look up every variation of ‘john mactavish’ and scour obituaries and news articles. you don’t find a thing, but you know he’s special forces—they wouldn’t necessarily publish an announcement.

weeks pass. she doesn’t say a word, but guilt gnaws at you for living off your godmother’s kindness. after dodging their calls, you reach out to your parents and beg them to buy you a plane ticket home to chicago. although they welcome you stateside, they’re distressed and confused about your sudden departure and separation from ‘that nice scottish boy’ they’d met over facetime. they didn’t know about the knife just out of frame or the disturbing sketches he’d draw of your mother from memory. you lie through your teeth and blame his hectic work schedule because it’s easier to say that than admit your little journey of ‘self-discovery’ didn’t lead you into a ‘whirlwind romance’, but a fucking nightmare.

(it started as a dreamy evening of darts and drinks, where a cute soldier made you laugh all the way into his bed. a mirage that hid his true intentions. grand overtures designed to dazzle you until it was too late. until he got you fired and evicted. somehow arranged for your visa to be revoked. orchestrated your demoralization and subsequent breakdown. ushered you into his flat with open arms, cooing and rubbing your back as you hiccuped and sobbed. those days are a blur, a series of escalations. a slow boil you didn’t feel until it scalded, until he locked the collar around your neck. even then, you felt like a failure. that it was all your fault for believing the lies. he laid you out beneath him, whispering the things he’d do to your family if you ran. how the powers at be would let him, given his work. a slap on the wrist. that’s all i’d get, hen.)

months turn into a year. you still look up johnny's name on occasion. still stare when you see a mohawk. yet, little by little, you feel like yourself again. rejoin society. get a shit job. you refuse to touch the dating pool with a ten-foot pole, but you don't feel naked wearing short sleeves anymore. don't flinch at the sound of dog tags clinking together.

you pick up a night shift, determined to save extra money so you can find your own apartment and stop leeching off your parents. everything's fine and dandy. slightly creepy, given the hour, but nothing you can't handle. (after johnny, you handle anything.) you close, intending to take out the trash as you lock up. the alley smells like piss and beer.

tossing the bag into the dumpster, you freeze at the silhouette at the mouth of the passage. they face away, cigarette smoke wafting from their person. they probably don't see you, but just to be safe, you turn to head in the other direction to take the long way to the L—

at least, you would, if johnny wasn't looming over you, night terrors manifest. big, broad shoulders and a puffed-out chest. a grin as wide and sharp as you remember. and those bright blue eyes, the light in them flattening in real time as he drinks in your expression. he relishes the way your face drops. the instant terror. a horrific scar catches your eye, flaring in every direction on his temple like a furious sun.

did ye think i'd forgotten ye, bonnie? or hope the gunshot erased ye? did ye believe me dead?

when you start to cry, because why wouldn't you, he—

no, no. hush. this is a good thing. a happy day. we're reunited, and i'm meetin' my girl's parents. cap's gone ahead to break the ice.

and when you scream, because why wouldn't you, he clamps a hand over your mouth and pins you to the dumpster. doesn't care a whit when your head bounces off the metal. the light returns to his eyes as you squirm. his brows pitch, lips curling. he brandishes a knife and stammers through his reprimand, scolding you for all your struggling.

i see ye forgot the rules and your manners. forgot what'll happen if ye dinnae–din–fuckin' play nice.

johnny forces you into a car, muttering reminders of what happens when you run. assures you, even as he loads you bodily into the backseat, sandwiching you between him and some massive freak in a mask, that he is forgiving. when the car rejoins traffic, johnny works his fly open. it takes a minute, his hands a bit unsteady.

a near-death experience clarifies things. puts what's important into focus. john says he saw his future clear as crystal, then shoves your head down without warning. he barks at the man on your other side, and a hand comes to rest on your flank, causing you to whimper around his cock. he moans sinfully at that before violently fucking your throat.

by the time he comes, you're spent. the fight gone out of you. the mitt on your side migrates to your inner thigh, but you can't begin to care. you’re resigned to drooling on john's lap. you pray for a car crash.

johnny explains how, given his connections, it took only two months to find you. they let him do that because of his work, but he decided to wait and bide his time. he details all the therapy, rehab, and everything he did to get into shape, to get his head on straight, and to get to you himself. plus, there was the matter of tracking down his second quarry. naughty, how you pawned it for less than half its value.

his grandmother's ring fits you perfectly. fate, he calls it.

but you know another collar when you see one.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

The Witch's Bodyguard

(2) I hide and cower in the corner, conversations getting hard

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda has to do an interview and is a little anxious about it

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: None this is just a set up and establish chapter

A/N: I'm so glad you're all looking forward to this series!

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld

@snoozingredpanda @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

@natashamaximoff-69

Your fist collided with the sand filled bag, stopping it dead in its tracks. Breathing hot and heavy after a two hour workout. You grabbed for your towel, sitting down to wipe away the sweat from your face as the feeling of a cold water bottle hit the side of your neck.

“I heard you finishing up so I figured I'd bring some water.” You hear Wanda say from behind you. Your tumbler is forgotten beside you as you take the bottle from her. You'd been here only a week, but Wanda quickly learned you're a creature of habit. The early wake up time, workouts that lasted the same amount each day. She was taking notice of the little things.

“Thank you. We have to go out for that interview soon, right?” You ask as you receive a nod. Your eyes flicked down to her hands. Her fingers fidgeting with the rings on her other hand. You could tell she was nervous, but it wasn't your place to say anything so you simply stand up. “I'll be ready in 10. Is Bucky ready?” Your voice is firm, commanding, but devoid of any unnecessary inflection. Bucky's reliability is another aspect of your job that you've come to depend on. Wanda simply nods as the two of you leave the at-home gym.

You head back to your room in the house, taking a quick five minute shower before dressing in your army pants, boots, and a plain white top. You also put on your bulletproof vest and holster your pistol.

As you swiftly gear up, the weight of the bulletproof vest is a familiar comfort against your chest. You've worn it through countless missions, and now it's become a staple of your attire as Wanda Maximoff's bodyguard. The pistol snug in its holster feels like an extension of your body, a tool of protection that you've trained with extensively.

Exiting your room, you find Wanda pacing in the living room, her nervous energy palpable. Bucky stands nearby, his posture relaxed but alert, a testament to his own years of military training.

"Ready to go when you are Ma’am," you state, your voice steady and authoritative. Wanda nods, her eyes briefly meeting yours before she gathers herself. She's still adjusting to having a constant shadow, someone who anticipates her needs before she even realizes them. You can sense her wariness, the uncertainty lingering beneath her composed façade.

As you escort Wanda to the awaiting vehicle you place your hand on the small of her back. A small gesture to reassure her that you’re here. You keep a vigilant watch on your surroundings. Every passerby is a potential threat, every noise scrutinized for signs of danger. It's second nature to you, this constant state of alertness, but you can see how it unnerves Wanda, the way she glances around nervously.

During the drive to the interview location, Wanda remains quiet, lost in her own thoughts. You respect her need for space, allowing her the silence she seeks while remaining vigilant for any potential threats. Bucky engages in small talk, attempting to lighten the mood, but you remain stoic, your focus solely on the task at hand.

Arriving at the interview venue, you scan the area, assessing the security measures in place. Satisfied with your observations, you usher Wanda inside, your presence a silent reassurance amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and eager reporters. Your hand once again finding it’s place on the small of her back.

Throughout the interview, you remain at the perimeter, a silent sentinel watching over Wanda's every move. You catch the subtle shifts in her demeanor, the way she navigates the questions. To most people she probably looked normal, but to you it was obvious she was anxious as she waited for questions to come her way with her other coworkers. She fidgeted with her rings again as she looked over the crowd. When she catches your eye you can fully see the panic and you do something that surprises you both. You make a silly face and she starts smiling with her brows furrowed. So you make another and get a chuckle out of her. It made you happy to be able to ease her tensions.

As the interview draws to a close, you guide Wanda and Bucky back to the vehicle. Once safely inside, you exhale a silent breath of relief, the tension slowly dissipating from your shoulders. You looked over at Wanda you also seemed to be much more relaxed now that it was over.

======

You sit in the dim glow of the fire, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows across the room. The warmth seeps into your bones, a comforting embrace after the long day's work. With a book in hand, you delve into its pages, immersing yourself in a world far removed from the reality of your duties.

The rhythmic tapping of keys fills the room as Wanda works diligently on her laptop, her focus unwavering. You steal a glance at her from time to time, noting the furrow of her brow as she concentrates. There's a sense of determination about her, a drive to excel in everything she does.

The silence between you is companionable, each lost in your own thoughts yet connected by the shared space. It's a rare moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of your lives, a chance to simply be without the weight of the world pressing down upon you.

As the night stretches on, the fire burns lower, casting elongated shadows that dance along the walls. You reach for your cup of tea, the warmth seeping into your hands as you take a sip. The aroma of chamomile fills the air, soothing and calming.

Eventually, Wanda closes her laptop, the soft click of the lid echoing in the quiet room. She stretches, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she settles back into her chair. You close your book, marking your place with a gentle touch before setting it aside.

"Long day," Wanda remarks, her voice breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, the events of the day still fresh in your mind. Despite the challenges, you feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing that you've kept her safe once again.

"But a good day," you reply, your voice low yet filled with assurance. Wanda meets your gaze, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the differences between you, there's a mutual respect that binds you together. "Time for bed?" You ask, but Wanda shakes her head, making you raise an eyebrow.

"A little longer." Her voice is soft. "Just want to relax without work for a bit. Let my mind shut off." She looked at you, eyes looking so tired. Like she could fall asleep in her chair as she curled up her legs and rested her chin on her hand to look over at the fire.

You let her be, picking your book back up to read a little more. It was only a few minutes until you heard her breathing even out, looking up from your book to find her asleep. A small smile on your face. This seemed to be a thing. Half of the week Wanda was falling asleep somewhere other than her bed and you'd have to take her to bed.

You lift Wanda effortlessly, her slight frame feeling feather-light in your arms. She stirs slightly as you gather her, her grip tightening instinctively as she nestles closer to you. Her warmth seeps into your skin, a comforting presence amidst the quiet of the night.

As you ascend the stairs to her room, you navigate with ease, your steps sure and steady. Wanda's soft breaths tickle the nape of your neck, a gentle reminder of her vulnerability in this moment of repose.

Reaching her bedroom door, you push it open with a gentle nudge, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the night. The room is bathed in moonlight, casting a silvery glow upon the familiar surroundings.

Carefully, you lower Wanda onto her bed, tucking the covers around her with a tender touch. She sighs contentedly, her features relaxed in sleep. For a moment, you simply watch her, the moonlight casting shadows across her peaceful face.

With a sigh, you turn away, leaving her to her dreams. It's become a routine, this silent vigil over her rest, a duty you've come to embrace with quiet determination.

Exiting her room, you pause in the hallway, your gaze lingering on the closed door. In the stillness of the night, you can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over you, a silent vow to always keep her safe.

With one last glance, you continue down the hallway, the echo of her soft breathing lingering in your mind. As you settle into your own room, you can't help but reflect on the complexities of your role as her protector, the unspoken bond that binds you together even in the darkest of hours.

And as sleep finally claims you, you find solace in the knowledge that for tonight, at least, she rests easy under your watchful gaze.

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 8

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences

For the next few days, Azriel didn’t leave YN’s side. He sat vigil in the quiet room at the River House, his eyes constantly watching over her, his heart heavy with worry. Her chest rose and fell softly, her face pale but peaceful in sleep. Her once-strong frame seemed so fragile now, broken ribs bandaged beneath the blankets, a splint wrapped around her sprained wrist.

Madja had been diligent in her care, informing him of her injuries: a mild concussion that would keep her in a daze even after she woke, fractured ribs that would need time to heal, and a strained wrist from where she had fought off the men. But it was her voice—or the lack of it—that weighed on him the most. The brutal strangulation had damaged her vocal cords, and Madja warned him that when she finally did wake, it would take several days before she could speak again.

Azriel’s heart clenched at the thought of YN not being able to voice her pain or fear. The memory of her being strangled on the floor, fighting for her life while Knox remained hidden, haunted him endlessly. He’d seen so much in his long life, witnessed horrors and fought battles, but the sight of her so close to death shook him like nothing else ever had.

Madja had been kind enough to offer healing spells to speed her recovery, but Azriel insisted on being there for everything. Every time she adjusted the bandages on YN’s ribs, every time she checked her breathing or felt for swelling, Azriel stood close by, offering silent support.

On the third night, Madja stopped by with her usual clinical efficiency, though her expression was more sympathetic than usual. "Her body is recovering well," she told him softly, taking his stoic silence as permission to continue. "The concussion is minor, and the ribs, while painful, will heal with time. But her voice... it may take several days for her to speak again. The trauma to her throat was extensive. She’ll need time."

Azriel nodded, his jaw tight. He’d been expecting it, but hearing it aloud made it all the more real. “I understand,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and constant worry. He reached out to smooth a hand over YN’s hair, careful not to disturb the splint on her wrist. “I’ll be here when she wakes.”

Madja gave a small nod and left the room quietly, leaving him alone with her again.

Azriel looked down at YN, his chest tightening at the sight of her bruised throat, the faint purple marks still visible beneath the bandages. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to tell her she was safe now, that he would never let anything happen to her again. But for now, all he could do was wait.

Knox, who had been in the care of Feyre and Mor during these long days, was brought to visit often, and each time Azriel held him, it grounded him in a way nothing else could. Knox’s small, innocent presence was a reminder of why they fought so hard, why they endured so much.

In the dim light of the room, Azriel kept vigil, his shadows swirling around him in a protective haze as he watched over his mate and his son, determined to stay until YN opened her eyes again and could feel the safety of his presence once more.

---

Azriel sat in the corner of the room, Knox cradled in his arms, the baby squirming slightly as he rocked him. His expression was tense, jaw clenched, as he waited for Rhys and Cassian to speak. He already knew what was coming—the questions, the confusion. They’d finally figured out what he had kept from them all this time.

Rhys broke the silence first, his voice calm but direct. "We need to talk about YN."

Azriel didn’t look up. He kept his gaze on his son, knowing there was no more avoiding it. “What about her?”

Cassian leaned forward, frowning. “We know she’s got a deal with Kier. A bargain.”

Azriel’s grip tightened slightly on Knox, but he kept his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

Cassian shot him a sharp look. “And you knew? How long?”

Azriel sighed. "A while."

Rhys crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t think to tell us? You’ve been hiding this from us the entire time?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” Azriel said coldly, meeting Rhys’s gaze now. "And it’s more complicated than you think."

Cassian scoffed. "Complicated how? She’s tied to Kier’s pleasure house. Why?"

Azriel shifted Knox in his arms, trying to stay calm. "It started when she was seventeen. Her best friend killed someone in self-defense. The Hewn City is split between the elite and the ones trying to survive. YN was part of the latter. Her family had nothing."

Rhys’s expression tightened. He remained silent, waiting for Azriel to continue.

"Kier stepped in," Azriel said, his voice clipped. "He gave them protection, kept them from being dragged into a trial or worse. But there was a price. He granted YN an education, helped her family. And when she came of age, he bound her to the pleasure house."

Cassian cursed under his breath, disgust clear on his face. “That bastard.”

Azriel nodded, his jaw tight. “She’s stuck. She doesn’t want to be there, but Kier holds the power. If I push too hard, he’ll make her life hell.”

Rhys leaned back in his chair, his expression hard. “And you’ve been dealing with this alone? Not telling us?”

Azriel’s tone was sharp. “I didn’t have a choice. If Kier knew I was involved, he’d use it against her. He’s waiting for an excuse to tighten his grip on her.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “We could’ve helped.”

“She didn’t want help,” Azriel said firmly. “She didn’t want to be seen as weak. And if you had known, Kier would’ve caught wind of it. He’s not stupid.”

Rhys crossed his arms, tension rolling off him. “So, what now? You’re just going to keep letting her work there while Kier pulls the strings?”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I’m working on it. But if I make a move, it has to be calculated. Otherwise, he’ll ruin everything.”

Rhys sighed, rubbing his temples. “We need a plan. Kier can’t keep his hold on her forever.”

Cassian’s voice was gruff but sympathetic. “We’ll figure this out. But next time, don’t shut us out, Az.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his focus returning to Knox as he rocked the baby slowly, his mind already churning with thoughts of how to protect them both.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, understanding the gravity of the situation, but knowing they had no choice but to trust Azriel’s instincts—for now.

---

The room was bathed in soft, dim light as YN slowly stirred, her eyelids fluttering. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the pain radiating from her ribs and the dull ache in her throat. Every breath was labored, shallow, as if the air itself was too thick to pull in. Her eyes finally opened, the world blurry for a moment before the room came into focus.

Azriel was there, sitting in the chair beside the bed, his dark eyes trained on her with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. He had been waiting for this, for her to open her eyes, for the confirmation that she was still with him. The second he saw movement, his breath hitched, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clenched together as if bracing himself.

“YN…” he whispered, voice cracking slightly, the relief in his tone palpable. He looked exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes and tension radiating from every muscle, but his expression softened the moment she focused on him.

She tried to speak, tried to form words, but nothing came out. Her throat felt raw, burning with the effort. Panic flashed in her eyes, her lips parting again, but all she managed was a faint rasp, her voice entirely gone.

Azriel was at her side in an instant, his hand gently cupping her face. “Shh, don’t try to talk. It’s okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek tenderly. His touch was warm, grounding her in the moment, anchoring her as the panic began to subside. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m here.”

Her gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, a thousand emotions passed between them—fear, relief, sorrow, love. She lifted her hand slowly, the movement weak and shaky, and placed it over his. The gesture was small, but it said everything she couldn’t.

Azriel’s jaw clenched as he fought to hold back the flood of emotions. Seeing her like this—so fragile, so hurt—it tore at him in ways he couldn’t describe. He had been terrified, truly terrified that she wouldn’t wake up, that she’d slip away before he could even hold her again. Now, with her fingers weakly gripping his, it took every ounce of control not to break down right there.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, leaning closer, his forehead gently pressing against hers. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she couldn’t cry, not fully. The tightness in her throat, the pain in her chest, wouldn’t allow it. But the emotion was there, heavy and unspoken between them. She blinked, the tears slipping down her cheeks, and Azriel wiped them away gently, his thumb moving across her skin with the lightest of touches.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—Azriel’s forehead resting against hers, his fingers brushing her cheek, his other hand gripping hers tightly as if letting go would mean losing her all over again.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were glassy, his voice softer. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” He tried for a smile, but it faltered. “Don’t ever do that again.”

She managed a faint nod, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. She wanted to tell him everything—that she was okay, that she didn’t blame him, that she was so damn grateful to have him there. But the words wouldn’t come, and all she could do was squeeze his hand in response.

Azriel’s eyes flickered to the bruises on her neck, and his expression darkened. He wanted to kill the men who had done this to her, wanted to rip them apart piece by piece. But right now, all that mattered was her—keeping her safe, keeping her close.

“Rest,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up again. I’m not going anywhere.”

He settled back into his chair, his hand never leaving hers, watching her as her eyes slowly fluttered shut again. Even in sleep, her face was tight with pain, her body too still, too fragile. Azriel watched her for a long time, every protective instinct roaring within him, and made a silent vow to never let anything like this happen again.

She had fought for her life, and now, it was his turn to fight for hers.

---

Two weeks had passed, and YN had begun to feel like herself again, at least physically. Her voice, once stolen by the brutal attack, had gradually returned—soft and weak at first, but stronger with each passing day. Azriel, however, had been relentless in his overprotectiveness. He had insisted that she remain in Velaris, far away from the dangers of the Hewn City, and had forced Madja to write an official medical letter to her employer, explaining that she was unfit for work for an extended period. He had even gone as far as delivering the letter himself, leaving no room for argument.

Now, YN sat on the balcony of their guest quarters in Velaris, the warmth of the afternoon sun bathing her in golden light. The balcony overlooked a peaceful garden, filled with vibrant flowers swaying gently in the breeze. She cradled Knox in her arms, the baby’s tiny body relaxed against her as she cooed and tickled him lightly under his chin. His sweet giggles filled the air, his small Illyrian wings fluttering ever so slightly in his excitement.

"Shh," she whispered with a soft smile, trying to soothe him back to sleep. “Come on, little one, it’s nap time.” Knox’s bright, curious eyes blinked up at her before slowly starting to droop, his body going limp as he fell into that peaceful baby slumber. YN continued to rock him gently, her fingers brushing through his dark hair, and she let out a contented sigh.

As she focused on the baby in her arms, she didn’t notice Azriel slipping quietly out onto the balcony behind her. His steps were silent, a skill he had perfected over centuries, and he took a moment to simply admire the scene before him. YN, looking healthier now, her hair loose and glowing in the sunlight, holding their son as if the entire world revolved around the tiny bundle in her arms. The sight filled his heart with a warmth he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

Without a word, Azriel stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into a warm, protective embrace. YN let out a small gasp of surprise before her body relaxed into his, the familiar weight and scent of him instantly soothing her. She tilted her head back slightly to look up at him, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“Didn’t hear you coming,” she whispered, her voice now smooth but still carrying a hint of the recovery she’d undergone.

“I didn’t want to disturb such a perfect moment,” he murmured against her ear, his breath warm on her skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. His hands slid down to rest over hers, cradling Knox together.

“He’s finally asleep,” YN said softly, her eyes drifting down to their son’s peaceful face. “You know, you’re going to spoil me with all this protection,” she teased, though there was no real heat in her words.

Azriel chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her back as he held her closer. “I’ll never stop protecting you. Or him.”

YN leaned her head back against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of being wrapped in his arms. “I know. I feel it every day.”

They stood in silence for a while, the only sound the soft rustling of the trees and the occasional cooing of Knox in his sleep. It was peaceful, something YN had rarely known before Velaris, before Azriel had come into her life.

After a few moments, Azriel gently kissed the top of her head and leaned down to whisper, “Rhys and Cassian are coming down soon. They want to talk to you.”

YN’s body tensed slightly in his arms, and she opened her eyes. “Talk to me?” she asked, her voice carrying a slight edge of concern.

Azriel sighed softly, pressing another kiss to her temple. “They’ve been worried. They know about your... connection to Kier and the pleasure house. They want to make sure you’re okay and figure out how we can... keep you safe.”

She let out a long breath, her grip on Knox tightening a little as she thought about the conversation to come. “I don’t like being a subject of discussion.”

“I know,” Azriel murmured, his hands rubbing soothing circles over her arms. “But they care about you. They just want to help.”

YN nodded slowly, her mind already racing with how much she should tell them. The last few weeks had been difficult enough without having to explain her past and the dangerous web of alliances that had kept her bound to the Hewn City for so long. But if anyone could help her break free, it would be Rhys and Cassian—Azriel’s family. Her family, too, in a way.

“Alright,” she finally said, her voice steady. “I’ll talk to them.”

Azriel kissed her once more, lingering for a moment before stepping back. “Thank you,” he whispered, his gratitude evident in the way his voice softened. He reached down and brushed his thumb gently over Knox’s cheek, the baby stirring slightly but remaining asleep.

“We’ll figure it all out,” he promised, his hazel eyes filled with determination. "Together."

Rhys and Cassian approached YN with a heavy seriousness in their demeanor. The peaceful atmosphere of the balcony shifted as the weight of the conversation settled between them. Azriel stood by YN's side, his gaze locked on her face as he sensed her unease, but this was a necessary conversation. If they were to free her from the clutches of the pleasure house, this was the only way.

Rhys was the first to speak, his voice gentle yet firm. "YN, we’ve been discussing your situation with Kier and his... assistant. We know you’re bound by that bargain, and we’ve been working on a way to break it. But there’s only one option that we can see.”

Cassian leaned forward, his large frame looming slightly as he crossed his arms. “We’ve come up with a plan, but it’s not going to be easy. Kier’s assistant—the man who controls your bargain—is going to be the key. He’s one of your clients, correct?”

YN swallowed hard, already feeling a pit forming in her stomach. She nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around Knox, who slept peacefully in her arms. “Yes,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “He requests private sessions. He’s... powerful.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched beside her, his hands itching to destroy the man who held so much control over YN’s life. Rhys, sensing Azriel’s rising anger, continued in a calm, measured tone.

“We believe that the only way to break this bond is through him. If you can get close enough, distract him when he calls for you again, we can move in. Cassian and I will take care of his guards, and Azriel will handle him. But we need you to keep him occupied—long enough for us to get inside.”

YN felt her heart race, her palms growing sweaty as she tried to process the enormity of what they were asking. The thought of being alone with that man, knowing what was about to happen, made her stomach churn. Worse still, the prospect of murder, something she had been entangled with before, clawed at her mind. The memory of her friend’s desperate act of self-defense still haunted her, and now they were asking her to be part of something similar.

“You want me to distract him while you... kill him?” YN asked, her voice trembling slightly as the reality of the plan sank in.

Rhys nodded solemnly. “It’s the only way, YN. If he’s dead, the bond will be broken. You’ll be free.”

Azriel stepped closer, his hand resting gently on her back. He could feel her flinch at the word "kill," and it sent a pang of guilt through him. He hated that this was the only option they had, hated that YN would have to face this darkness again. But he also knew that they couldn’t keep living like this—constantly looking over their shoulders, bound by a deal that held her captive.

YN stared down at Knox, her mind swirling with a mixture of fear and hope. On one hand, this was her chance—her chance to be free from the pleasure house, from Kier’s cruel control, and to live a life with Azriel and Knox without constantly fearing for their safety. But on the other hand, the thought of being involved in another killing, even indirectly, was enough to make her chest tighten.

Cassian’s voice broke through her thoughts. “We’ll be there the whole time. You won’t be alone in this.”

Rhys knelt down beside her, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wish there was another way. But we’ll make sure you’re safe, YN. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Azriel knelt beside her, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t even realized had escaped. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “But this is the only way to end it.”

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry as she nodded, more to herself than to them. She had survived so much already—being bound to that awful place, the attack on her apartment, and the struggles of her past. If this was what it took to be free, then she would face it. She would do whatever it took for her son, for the life she wanted to build with Azriel.

But the weight of the decision settled heavily on her shoulders, and she knew this would not be an easy path.

“I’ll do it,” YN finally whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. “But... I’m scared.”

Azriel’s grip on her tightened, his forehead resting against hers for a moment. “I know,” he murmured. “But you’re strong, YN. You’re stronger than any of us.”

Rhys stood up, exchanging a glance with Cassian before looking back at YN. “We’ll make the arrangements. When he calls for you again, we’ll be ready.”

YN nodded, though her body felt like it was moving through quicksand. The thought of going back to that place, knowing what would happen, made her feel sick. But deep down, she knew there was no other choice. If she wanted freedom, if she wanted to protect Knox and Azriel from this life, she would have to face this head-on.

Azriel stayed beside her as Rhys and Cassian left to make their plans, his hand never leaving hers. He could feel her trembling slightly, and it broke his heart to know what she would have to go through. But they would get through this together—he would make sure of it.

“I love you,” Azriel whispered, his voice filled with all the emotion he could never quite put into words.

“Me too,” YN replied, her voice steady but her heart racing.

And as she sat there, holding her sleeping son close, YN steeled herself for what was to come. This was her chance to be free—to finally break the chains that had bound her for so long. And no matter how much fear and uncertainty filled her, she knew she would face it for her family.

For Knox. For Azriel. For herself.

One more chapter and then MWAHAHAHAHHA YALL ARE GONNA HATE ME!

[dilemmars]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾.⠀( welcome to the playground , 7.7k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this first chapter, not more than that. pretty calm chapter, introductory. some steamy kissing hehe.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀first chapter out! i really really hope you like this silly story! this is just the beginning, a little bit of introduction to the backstory of the characters, and scenes you already know from the show. enjoy 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

You rested your hand on the rough wooden wall after reaching the last step, and paused your movements. Just for an instant, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and take a breath of air. You rolled one of the screws you'd been working with between your fingers, the shine of the stained metal glinting next to the chipped nails painted a dirty maroon colour, and forced yourself to walk along the small landing at the back of The Last Drop. You ignored the dull ache in your ankle, which crept up your leg if you stepped too hard, and the animated murmur of people greeted you as you opened the door, swallowing the silence that had surrounded you for most of the afternoon.

Despite the heavy gloom that shrouded the downside of the town, you had to squint at the large lamps in the shop, illuminating the large room with an amber light. You tucked the screw in one of the pockets of your cargo trousers, rotating your shoulders to release some of the tightness that had taken over them after an afternoon slouching in the studio, and made your way clumsily towards the bar counter. You caught a glimpse of Vander's broad back skilfully pouring two pints of beer for one of The Last Drop's regulars, and grimaced. You knew he would be working —it was his establishment, after all— but you didn't want to meet his disapproving gaze.

You raised your hand in a quick wave when the guy who had just paid for the two beers, Huck, smiled at you, and you mentally thanked that Vander was too busy following him with his eyes to notice that you had disobeyed his request for rest. You let him concentrate on the irregular-looking meeting the man with the dark ponytail was about to carry out with the two strangers Vander watched over, vigilant, and slid awkwardly under the plank that separated the inside of the bar from the rest of the place. Hopefully, if he was too busy he wouldn't say anything.

‘Where did you leave your watchdog, sweetheart?’ you heard, and got startled by how close Sevika's low, honeyed voice sounded, sitting on one of the bar's high stools, the criminal's sharp gaze glinting with amusement, hidden behind her own jug.

‘None of your business,’ you replied, but a smile danced on your lips as you faced her, your hands resting on the metal cover of the counter, damp against your skin. She smiled too, a sort of reply to the game you always played with each other, and set the jug down in front of you.

‘But it's strange not to see her glued to you,’ she replied, the caricaturistic pout in her mouth a mocking sneer at the person she was talking about, Vander's older adopted daughter.

Her golden breastplate shimmered under the spotlights hanging from the ceiling above you, her dark jacket fading into the shadows, and you rolled your eyes playfully. You could hear a soft melody from the gramophone you had managed to fix a few months ago, but it was completely drowned out by the shouts of those winning and losing at the pool tables to your right. Sevika loved to pick on you, throwing comments that you answered in a scathing manner, with that haughty little girl's mask that had earned you a fight or two.

They were harmless words. She'd throw a jab, you wouldn't stay silent. But that night the absence of the lively group of teenagers Vander was in charge of seemed more present than usual, and it made your heart hammer just to think that their unaccustomed delay was because something unexpected had happened. You reached into the inside pocket of your threadbare leather vest and pulled out the old hand-watch you always carried with you. The hands seemed to be moving too fast, a tick-tock-tick-tock that anticipated an uncertain outcome.

‘I thought I told you to stay downstairs,’ Vander murmured behind you, the comforting sound of his voice enveloping you like the hand he rested on your shoulder. His fists had once been wielders of daunting violence, you'd been told, his strong, dangerous-looking arms characteristics attached to his name and reputation, but you'd only known the tenderness with which they could embrace you.

‘I get bored alone in there,’ you confessed, pouting, ignoring the breathy laughter of the criminal in front of you. It wasn't true, as everyone who met you knew how easily you were able to abstract yourself in any situation. The truth was that the living room of the small home Vander had built under the pub felt lifeless if your friends weren't in it.

You didn't say it, but it was implied in the softness that tinged the man's gaze when he looked at you. He slid his hand from your shoulder to your arm, as he had done so often since you had known him, always a gesture of understanding and comfort, and you listened to his reproach with brows furrowed upwards, accepting his words.

‘Still, you shouldn't overwork that foot until it's fully healed.’

Sevika made a noise of affirmation, a victim of enough injuries to know what was best for a simple sprain, and it served as enough convincing to let Vander take you by the waist and sit you in one swift movement on the counter. A sigh of relief spilled from your mouth, which you didn't hold back just to let the bartender know he was right, and you thanked him with a smile, the clock still racing against time in your hand.

They weren't back yet, and you couldn't ask Vander if he'd heard anything about a disturbance topside, because it would imply that you had full knowledge of what your friends were up to behind their father's back. It had been a mistake to rush into planning the heist, and even more so knowing that you could not be a part of it, having been forced to rest after a silly sprained ankle a couple of weeks ago while trying to jump from one building to another. It had been a bet with Mylo, the annoying middle brother who knew what strings to pull to make you act out of pride, but you had all agreed not to tell anyone about it.

He disappeared into the crowd with his inseparable pipe between his lips, and you deflated, sliding off the bar and onto the floor to run away.

‘Can I have another before you go, you damned little wraith?’ asked Sevika, pushing her empty jug towards you with her fingers, compassion floating in her gaze. She too had been a child, she too had kept secrets from her father.

You merely nodded, turning back to her to pick up the metal glass, and stood on your tiptoes to reach the beer tap, wincing as you flexed your ankle. You waited for the bubbling foam to reach the rim of the jug, almost spilling over your fingers, and your pulse trembled as you caught a fleeting glimpse of turquoise hair in the back of the crowd. The same turquoise hair that you had braided and decorated that very morning, still sitting up in bed, with a twin screw to the one in your pocket.

Powder. The youngest of all of you, last in the group line. Leading the way, Vi's strong figure, camouflaged under the hood of a sleeveless jacket, marking a quick step towards the door you had exited just minutes before. Your heart began to stutter against your ribcage, realising that they wouldn't be coming in unnoticed, head down, if something terrible hadn't happened. And they weren't carrying the backpack they'd left with.

You set Sevika's jug down on the counter perhaps a little harder than necessary, giving her a nod by way of farewell, and duck under the table to retrace your steps, limping your way to the door through which Vander's four adopted children had just sneaked in. Your breath caught in your throat as you took the first step, pain running like electricity through the muscles in your leg, but you clenched your teeth and continued forward, stumbling as you opened the second door, pausing for a moment before attempting to continue on one foot.

‘Vander learns none of this,’ Vi was saying, her raspy voice cutting through the air in a sharp warning.

Oh, no. Something had definitely gone wrong.

Whatever Mylo was about to say got drowned out by the silence the four of them fell into as you put your injured foot on one of the wooden timbers you had marked as squeaky, and you bit your lip, placing most of your weight on the handrail. You knew that if your ankle still hadn't healed after two weeks it was because you were incapable of sitting still, but every time you got a jolt of pain like that, you wished you'd laid in bed for days. You bent over slightly, frowning, muttering a soft, ‘It's me, it's me, don't worry’.

You heard Vi's quiet sigh as you massaged your ankle, the soft sound of the armchair as she stood up, and every step she took until you saw the tips of her boots on the step below the one you were on. She rested the palm of her hand between your shoulder blades, and you let its warmth run across the leather of your vest, feeling her hand slide to the small of your back, its comforting touch making you let out a soft whimper. When you looked up you saw concern swimming in her gaze. All you wanted was to flash a calming smile.

‘It's alright,’ you said, taking a breath, carefully placing your foot on the floor and getting up. ‘I'm alright, how are you guys?’

‘We're good, cupcake,’ she whispered, sliding her hand around your waist, drawing circles with her thumb over the small sliver of skin between your vest and the waistband of your trousers, as if in a rehearsed choreography: the uneasiness of one face mirroring the distress of the other, both trying to reassure one another. ‘Come here, yeah?’

You huffed, but let her anyway. Vi moved her hand slightly up, towards the curve of your waist, hovering over you, and you had to stifle a gasp as she caught you in her arms, her warm palm against your back once it slipped under your shirt. You couldn't help the way the end of your lips curved upwards, a mirror image of the one you felt on hers as she pressed a quick kiss to your temple, and you slipped an arm around her neck as she began to descend the stairs, pressing you against her body.

‘You stink,’ you said, ignoring the way her t-shirt clung to her sweaty chest, how the fringe of her pinkish hair fell over her eyes. You tucked it behind her ear, sliding your fingers over the bruise that had already begun to form on her cheek, and frowned. ‘What happened?’

‘Powder jinxed the plan,’ Mylo replied, and you turned to him, who was sprawled on the couch, next to Claggor, his feet on the coffee-table, his arms folded, and looking just as dishevelled and dirty as the rest. ‘Again,’ he added, and Vi's chest rose with a tired sigh alongside you.

‘I tried, okay?’ replied Powder, wrinkling her freckled nose as Vi turned around the couch she was sitting on, with you in her arms. ‘You don't get it,’ the little girl complained, ‘you're older, you're bigger.¡ You left a soft kiss on Vi's jaw as a silent thank you before she carefully settled you down next to her sister, and you tried to imagine what had happened to make Powder have to defend herself that way. ‘It, it isn't fair.’

You caught a glimpse of Mylo's gaze, his eyebrows raised in disbelief, and then you turned your face to Powder, huddled against the sofa with his knees drawn up to his chest. And you got angry. It wasn't the first time the boy had reflected his own insecurities back at her, jabbing at her with phrases that undermined her confidence, and though you always tried to keep your cool, telling him off in private afterwards, there were times when it pained you not to stand up for her out loud so as not to pick a fight.

‘Of course it isn't fair,’ you interjected, glaring at Mylo, folding your good leg under your body to make yourself more comfortable. You felt Powder's eyes on you, hanging on your every word. ‘You're more experienced too,’ you continued, leaning your head against the backrest in a lazy gesture, as if the conversation was boring you. ‘I still remember the kind of things you used to do when you were Powder's age.’

Before you could tell some ridiculous anecdote about him, at least to try to cheer Powder up, the door burst open, Vander's powerful figure appeared in the doorway, and the words died in your throat. Tense, the five of you stood still, waiting for a reaction from the owner of The Last Drop.

‘Everyone alright?’ he asked, coming down the stairs agonisingly slowly.

You saw Mylo remove his feet from the table in a hurry, sitting up, and the tightness in his attempt at a smile as he spoke.

‘Never better,’ he replied.

‘Good,’ Vander pronounced, his voice dangerously calm, taking his time getting downstairs. ‘I don't suppose you can explain why it is that hearing about an explosion and a foot chase topside?’

You didn't see him, but you heard his footsteps behind you, calculated, restrained, and it took you a second longer than necessary to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. An explosion? And a chase, a foot chase. You opened your eyes in surprise and turned slightly towards him, but he wasn't looking at you, his gaze locked on Vi. He'd known about it practically all afternoon and hadn't said anything to you. It was obvious. You wondered if he wouldn't ask you to stay downstairs instead of helping him pour beer to keep you from finding out too. Would Sevika have any idea of that?

‘Four children fleeing the scene,’ he added, as if it wasn't clear enough.

If the enforcers had chased them to the limits between topside and undercity, they would do whatever it took to search house to house and find the culprits. Especially after collapsing a building, and particularly if valuables had been stolen. You felt Powder's hand slip around your arm, hiding in the tiny gap between your body and the couch, and you tried to make eye contact with Vi, unsure of what to say without really knowing the circumstances of what had happened, but she avoided your gaze.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ inquired Vander, the measured tone doing nothing to try and disguise the frustration in his words.

Your heart raced in your chest. There had been many versions of the conversation that had started, softer, more lighthearted, in the past, but you could tell the anger buried in father and daughter with just a glance —Vi's frown, her fists clenched, and the tension in Vander's shoulders. Vi's voice didn't falter as she answered.

‘That we can handle a real job.’

Vander's response was just as quick, his scepticism lashing out like a whip, ‘A real job?’

‘We got our tip, planned a route, nobody even saw.’ she said, and just the quick glance she gave you after uttering it made you bite your tongue. She said we, which wasn't a lie, but she used the loophole of your involvement in the planning so that Vander wouldn't scold you too.

‘You blew up a building!’ he exclaimed, and you flinched.

‘That wasn't…’ Vi blinked at her father, as if the fact that they were all home meant it hadn't been that big a deal, but was interrupted by a barrage of accusatory questions.

‘Did you even stop to think about what could have happened to you?’ demanded Vander, and you began to feel the guilt creep up your throat. ‘Huh? To them?’

You perceived the way Vander pointed towards the two couches facing each other, the ones where you and Powder and the two boys were sitting, but you weren't really looking at him. Once he had said it, you could only notice everything you hadn't when you had seen them after their absence: the little girl's scraped knee, Claggor's bloody shirt around his neck, the tiny particles of dust and plaster in Mylo's spiky hair. The bruise you'd caressed, a gaping cut on Vi's other cheekbone.

Playing at being criminals was practically harmless in the undercity, always backed by Vander's intimidating reputation, but going up to Piltover to loot was something else entirely. There was a risk that became all too real, you moved under rules that applied differently to those who came from where you were from. It had been too dangerous, a hazard you hadn't seen when you had planned it from the comfort of your room, and you had been the one to send them up there, while you stayed in the safety of The Last Drop.

You heard Vander sigh, defeated.

‘Where did you even get this tip?’

You felt Powder stir beside you, leaning out so her father could hear her better, ‘We just heard it at Benzo's.’

‘From?’

‘Little Man?’ she muttered in reply, unsure if telling the truth was safe, even if it was the right thing to do.

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against you, as soon as you saw Vander's brow begin to furrow. He obviously didn't think it was good advice coming from an eleven-year-old, you'd seen it coming —and that was why you hadn't wanted to say anything to him— but Ekko was worth a lot more than the adults liked to think, with those quick legs and the ability to put together the most complex gadgets to learn all the secrets and whispers of Benzo's shop.

You saw Vander open his mouth to respond, but before he could articulate a word, Vi shot up from the couch, storming with anger in her voice, ‘I took us there,’ she said, face to face with her father. ‘If you wanna be mad, be mad at me. But you're the one that says we have to earn our place in this world.’

Vander sighed again, as if he were exhausted from facing the same conversation all the time.

‘I also told you time and again the Northside's off limits,’ he repeated, as he had so many times before. ‘We stay out of Piltover's business.’

‘Why?’ reproached Vi, and you could see the change in her gaze, that shift that suggested that she had had enough too, but of witnessing the social injustice that went on every day in your country, and of no one doing anything to stop it. ‘They've got plenty, while we're down here scraping together coins. When did you get so comfortable living in someone else's shadow?’

The intensity of her words left you breathless, amazed that she had dared to utter what she had so often whispered to you when she was angry with Vander and needed someone to talk to. There was a deathly silence in the room, tense and thick, and you all respected it, knowing that the conversation had become too personal.

‘Everyone out.’

You made the attempt to stand up, ready to intervene, to try to negotiate a situation in which no one regrets what can be said, even if you don't have a say in the situation. Play mediator, something you've always been good at. But before you can open your mouth, Vander is giving you a harsh look.

‘Out,’ he repeated.

You looked up at Vi, who was frowning, but her eyes softened as she met yours and saw your expression. She nodded almost imperceptibly, resting a hand on your shoulder, and helped you up to get out of there. You knew they needed to talk to each other, but it stung that you couldn't be there to protect her if Vander went too far with his words. You sighed, remembering that he would never hurt his children, and limped a few metres, followed by Powder.  You heard Claggor and Mylo rise behind you, waiting for you to go up the stairs. You were prideful enough not to accept help from anyone, even if your cheeks were flushed red from how long it took you to get to the top.

You closed the door after Powder passed last, and leaned your back against the wooden surface, closing your eyes for a moment. You were grateful that Mylo didn't make any of his comments, and only turned away when Powder demanded your attention, puffing upwards at her fringes.

‘Can I go look in the pipes outside?’ she murmured, her restless legs trembling to get the hell out of there.

‘Yes, of course,’ you replied, smiling at her. 

You placed a hand on the wall once you saw her disappear down the stairs where Claggor had sat, and took a step towards him, leaning on his shoulder so that you could sit next to him. You rested your head on his shoulder, sighing, and ignored the gadget Mylo pulled out of one of his many pockets to gossip the conversation.

‘Was it that bad?’ you asked, your voice low.

‘Pretty much,’ Claggor told you, shifting underneath you. ‘We don't know what caused the explosion, we just ran out of there as soon as it happened.’

‘But you're all okay, aren't you?’ you wanted to clarify, trying to imagine all the scenarios that had happened. You hadn't seen many explosions in your life, but the four of them had come back in one piece, and that would have to calm you down. It should, at least.

‘Except for the part where Powder lost the bag we were bringing the stuff in,’ Mylo chimed in, glueing his ear to the goldish device, and you rolled your eyes. He had to be joking, putting a couple expensive items above his and everyone else's safety.

‘We're all okay, yeah,’ Claggor replied, and you turned your head slightly so you could smile at him. ‘How are you doing with the...?’

‘Shh,’ interrupted the youngest of you three, his eyes widening, ‘Vander's telling her that it's her responsibility what happens to us.’

‘I'm fine, Clag,’ you continued, ignoring Mylo's words. ‘It hurts less and less every day.’

‘And now he's asking for the stuff!’ he interrupted again, raising his voice slightly.

‘You are aware that eavesdropping on other people's conversations is rude, right?’ you sighed, shooting him an amused look, knowing he wouldn't care. Mylo was a nosy one.

He didn't answer you, too busy analysing every word of what was being said on the other side of the door, and you shook your head slightly, leaning part of your body against Claggor. You felt your ankle throbbing, protesting at the effort you had put it through, and your head was beginning to ache. You needed to think of something to convince Vander that it wasn't all Vi's fault, that if there was a punishment, it wouldn't fall on the rest of them.

Staring blankly at the floor, you waited. You decided you would follow Vander back to the bar to talk to him, even if it was just to find out how the situation had affected both the topside and Vi. You figured she'd want to be alone, but when she felt ready you'd return to her arms, as always. And then Claggor tapped your knee gently, urging you to pay attention, and you saw the look of concentration on Mylo's face as he failed to hear Vander's heavy footsteps —which you could literally hear without his gadget.

When he finally realised that the man was on the other side of the door, he jerked away, turning hurriedly to pretend that he had been waiting with you and Claggor, his back to both of you. The towering figure of Vander appeared with a large sack slung over his shoulder, and a scowl on his face, though it was the serious face he adopted in his day to day life. Perhaps it hadn't gone so badly after all.

‘Get up, Claggor,’ he said, closing the door behind him, ‘we're going out.’

‘Wait, now?’ he complained, huffing.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, offering him an apologetic smile. If your foot were okay you would have offered to accompany Vander in his place, but even in that situation you had to recognise that too much walking would cause irreparable damage to your ankle. You stroked his shoulder encouragingly, grimacing as you saw the colour the bruise in his eye was beginning to take on, and watched him stand up, as Vander snatched Mylo's  device from him.

You listened to his complaints as Vander ignored them, and ducked your gaze when he faced Mylo, ‘You wanna be treated like adults, right?’

He threw the bag at Claggor, who had to lean on the steps to keep from falling, and you tried to get to your feet to help him, wincing as you rested your foot irremediably on the ground. It was hard to figure out the specific mood of Vander at that moment, the tonality of his words contrasting with the way he treated you.

‘Then you should know better than to come back from a job empty-handed,’ Vander said, resting his hand on the handrail to start walking up. You stepped aside, stepping down to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Mylo, and avoided looking at him as he spoke the final words, ‘I'm going to have a little word with your informant.’

You exchanged one last glance with Claggor, mouthing a quiet ‘Good luck’ before he nodded in defeat, following in Vander's footsteps, disappearing up the stairs Powder had gone a few minutes before. You leaned your back against the closed door that led to the bar, realising that the plan you had in mind had fallen like cards blown by the wind, and considered simply heading off to bed to rest.

‘You coming?’ muttered Mylo, bumping his shoulder against yours.

‘Huh?’ you looked at him, momentarily unsure what he was referring to, until he nodded his head towards the door.

‘Let me help you,’ he asked, holding out his hand in front of you, ‘don't be stubborn.’

You folded your arms, snorting, and played hard to get.

‘You know Vi would kill me if she found out I let you walk down those stairs by yourself again,’ he added, one hand over his chest dramatically, as if suffering the wrath of your girlfriend was probably the worst possible fate —and you didn't doubt it.

You rolled your eyes playfully and accepted his hand, slipping your arm over his shoulders and letting him wrap his around your waist, making it easier for you to limp. You walked slowly down the stairs, focused on not falling, and you were almost relieved about the absence of that dull ache in your ankle. You had to start taking better care of yourself.

Vi's figure greeted you just as you had left her, slumped in her armchair, one leg up on the armrest and her head resting on one hand. You pouted at the sight of her, worn out and for a moment looking older than she actually was, but the expression on her face morphed into just a smile, sitting up slightly at the sight of you. Mylo guided you in front of her, one hand still on your waist in case you wanted to sit elsewhere, and you thanked him, leaning on the armrest still free of the armchair.

You heard Mylo pick up a ball and plop down on the couch you'd been sitting on with Powder, but all your attention went to Vi, her greyish gaze, calm, soft, and the way her hands slid down your hip, yours tangling in her hair.

‘Hey, pretty girl,’ you murmured, your lips drawing a soft curve over your mouth, ‘everything okay?’

She smiled in response, dropping her head against the back of the chair and letting out a long sigh. With her eyes narrowed, and her hands clasped around you, the ends of her smile spread a little wider, and suddenly you were pulled into her lap. You muffled a gasp of surprise, spilling laughter onto her skin, and settled into her arms.

‘Now? Hell yeah,’ she replied, his lips brushing your temple.

‘How are you feeling?’ you said, your voice barely a whisper, snuggling against her.

‘Exhausted,’ she admitted, and you began to trace shapes on her arm with your fingertips, ‘I really missed you today.’

You pouted at her words, turning your head away a little so you could look into her eyes, ‘I really missed you too,’ you replied. ‘My studio felt too quiet.’

‘Did you make any progress?’ she asked, shifting her body so that she could stand as close to you as possible, still looking you in the eye.

‘Yes!’ you exclaimed, sitting up slightly so you could explain. ‘I've fixed the wing mechanism! It works perfectly now, and it doesn't make that awful noise. I even tested it, and it's able to stay in the air, so I'll be able to create the first sample in no time.’

‘That's amazing, cupcake,’ she commented, smiling proudly. Whenever you were asked about an invention you were working on, you started babbling information, and Vi was one of the few who actually paid attention to what you were saying. ‘Next up is designing the body, right?’

You nodded, remembering that the reason you'd gone up to The Last Drop in the first place had been that you'd promised yourself to ask Vi if she wanted to be involved in the design. You'd had to leave the mechanical crow halfway through, waiting for her response.

‘Wanna help me?’ you said, turning to her and tucking a pink lock of hair behind her ear. You let your palm linger on her cheek for a moment, melting as Vi pressed her face against your skin, closing her eyes, and added, ‘The idea was yours.’

‘The idea was Ekko's,’ she whispered, correcting you, turning her face so she could press a kiss to your palm, and then she looked up at you, the grey of her gaze warm against yours, ‘but I'll be happy to help.’

You lowered yourself over her, swallowing her breath, and joined your lips in a tender kiss. Vi wasn't a big fan of grand displays of affection in public, except for the occasional protective gesture that always worked if she felt a little jealous of the way you were being looked at in the street, and kissing was usually reserved for when you were completely alone. So you were surprised when she sighed against your mouth and bit your lower lip, slipping her tongue in as soon as you let her. The taste of her distracted you, and you slid your hands up her shoulders, feeling her hands anchor around your waist, drawing you into her body.

But then you brushed your thumb over her cheekbone, as you always did, and felt her wince in pain. You pulled away, fearful, and remembered the cut you had seen earlier. Much to your reluctance, you decided to pause the kiss, leaving one last peck on her lips that she chased, and you smiled at her, changing the subject.

‘And the studio topside?’ you wanted to know, picking up the conversation where you had left off. ‘Was it as cool as Ekko predicted?’

‘Oh, it was otherworldly!’ she exhaled, breathy, as if trying to focus on what you had said, remembering her failed incursion. ‘Truth is you would've loved it, with all those tools and maths equations, and the weird, complex artefacts.’

‘Maybe if I had gone, things would have had a different outcome,’ you sighed, resting your forehead on hers, closing your eyes.

‘Maybe,’ she conceded, drawing comforting circles on your hip bones, 'but you had to rest.’

‘I know,’ you acknowledged, trying not to let the guilt seep into your voice. Then you pulled away slightly, your hands still resting on her shoulders, ‘now you have to rest.’

‘Do I?’ she asked, amusement in her eyes, smiling.

‘Of course you do!’ you said, analysing the wounds on his face. ‘And wash up too. You still have blood in your face.’

‘Aren't you going to ask how the fight went?’ she inquired, humming, bringing her hands up to your lips to undo the pout with soft fingertips.

You raised your eyebrows at her words, as if the answer was obvious, ‘Oh, you won.’

‘Yeah, I did,’ she replied, chuckling under her breath.

You slid your gaze across her face, taking in each small wound, the smeared blood from the cut on her brow, the gradual colour of the bruises on her cheeks, and then slid it around the room, looking for something to treat her wounds with.

And then you saw the open bottle of alcohol on the table, a solitary drop of liquid sliding on the glass, and you knew that Vander had been the one to smear the blood on Vi's brow. It had been a friendly conversation, then. You smiled at the thought.

‘Let me clean you those wounds, yeah?’ you whispered, caressing your girlfriend's jaw before getting up to reach for the bottle.

‘As you wish,’ she replied, waiting for you to sit back on her lap, her fingers tingling to touch your skin again.

But you stood in front of the armchair, pulling a roll of bandages from the small pocket on your belt, always ready to be able to change the ones Vi wore from her knuckles to the forearm of her right hand. You took your time cutting a generous piece, pouring alcohol on the cloth and tapping Vi's leg on the armrest to get her to move it.

She huffed, raising her hands in a gesture of defeat, and sat with her legs together, leaving you the perfect gap for your knees to rest on the sides of her hips. Once back in her lap, you cupped her face with one hand, palm holding part of her jaw so she couldn't move it, and blew on the cut on her cheek before pulling the wet bandage over it.

You saw a drop slide off her skin before the alcohol touched the open wound, and her brow furrow as you slid the cloth across her cheekbone, sucking in a sharp intake. You looked at her, knowing it was going to sting anyway, but she kept her eyes closed, concentrating on not moving. You wiped it off as quickly as you could, moving on to the half smeared cut on her eyebrow, and Vi held still, her hands tense on your waist, until you discarded the bandage, leaving it on the table behind your back.

Then you took her face in your hands, whispering that it was done, and laid six quick kisses on her bruised cheeks, all soft caresses of your lips on her skin. She smiled at the attention, running her hands up your back to slip under your shirt, but you stopped her, aware that she had forgotten Mylo's presence in the room.

You turned to him, seeing that he had been turned towards the back of his couch, trying to give you as much privacy as possible, and questioned him.

‘Hey, Mylo, you got any cuts you want me to clean up?’

He stirred, rolling over until he was sprawled on his back, and picked up the ball he'd left between the couch cushions, his gaze unfocused.

‘You know, Powder's a problem,’ he said, as if he hadn't heard a word, running his free hand over his face to snap out of his trance.

‘Oh my God, you've been overthinking all this time about that?’ you exhaled, disbelief painting your voice.

Vi sighed, resting her forehead on your shoulder, exhausted, ‘Mylo, I'm really not...’

‘Do you remember what was in the bag?’ he interrupted, throwing the ball against the wall in front of him and catching it on the fly.

You rolled your eyes, tired of his obsessive attitude.

‘Jeez, I'm sure it wasn't as...’ but he interrupted you too.

‘The biggest payout we've ever seen,’ he continued, giving vent to his complaints, not understanding why you didn't give it the same importance. ‘And she just lost it.’

‘She made a mistake.’ Vi leaned back in the armchair, resting her head on her hand.

‘Name one time she hasn't.’

‘Myls, she's still young,’ you tried to interject, defending Powder while avoiding creating an argument, as usual.

‘Don't bullshit me,’ he said, still determined to blame her for all his problems. ‘Vi was twice the person half her age.’

‘Vi had to grow up way too soon and fight for Powder to have a decent childhood without parents,’ you countered, starting to stand up, the knee of your bad foot still propped up on the couch so as not to overload it, but giving Mylo a venomous look. ‘Do not bullshit me.’

Vi put a hand on your hip, her hand warm against your skin, and helped you sit on the armrest, then propping her elbows on her knees so that she was face to face with her adopted little brother.

‘You know what, Mylo? You're right,’ she said slowly, sensing the way you tensed behind her back. She wasn't going to agree with him, was she? ‘There's a bunch of things Powder can't do.’

‘You don't have to tell me twice,’ he said, a hint of superiority spilling out of his mouth.

‘Like complaining about everything,’ Vi continued, sitting up, and you allowed yourself to relax, knowing she was going to teach him a lesson.

‘What?’ Mylo frowned, the ball tapping rhythmically on the wall in front of him.

‘And brag non stop.’

‘Okay, okay, I see where this is going...’ he replied, sitting up in his corner of the couch as Vi towered over him, catching the ball in mid-flight. You crossed your arms over your chest, remaining silent.

‘Pick fights with the group when we need to focus.’

Mylo gave a nervous chuckle, ‘Vi, I...’

‘And tell strangers on the street that we got a nice haul,’ she finished, her back to you. You couldn't see her face, but you could see his regretful gesture.

‘Oh my god, you did what?’ you muttered, surprised. If Powder lost the stuff then it was because she had to defend herself from a fight that Mylo had probably started. And Powder wasn't much of a fighter.

‘I, I didn't mean to,’ he defended himself.

‘Powder's my problem, okay?’ announced Vi, to which you nodded. They had both been through too much. Even if they lived under the same roof as Mylo, Claggor, and even you, their relationship was always going to tie them together in a much deeper way. ‘Your problem is never knowing when to shut up,’ you watched as she moved even closer to him, face to face, and lowered her voice so he could hear her clearly, ’but I'm gonna help you with that. Ready? You see this look on my face?’ she pointed to her face, and you saw Mylo swallow, nodding. ‘This will always mean it's time to shut up.’

‘But...’ he tried to say, to which Vi pointed to her face again, ‘I...’ she did it again and he groaned.

You couldn't help but let out a giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as Mylo rolled his eyes, giving up, and dropped his head against the couch. Without a word he put his hand to his lips, running his fingers over them as if he were zipping it, and stood up quickly, hurrying up the path to the stairs. As soon as he was gone, Vi turned to you.

‘Where were we?’ she asked, approaching you with a smile tugging at her lips.

You slid down the armrest until you were sitting on the cushion, and opened your arms to receive her, beaming. She knelt in front of you, wrapping her arms around your waist, and shuddered as you slipped your fingers into her hair. She closed her eyes, sighing, and left six quick kisses on the sliver of skin that peeked between your shirt and the waistband of your trousers, over your hip bone.

You giggled, wiggling your hips, and asked her, ‘Why was that?’

‘I don't know,’ she said, resting her chin on your belly, looking up at you with sparkling eyes, 'you always give me six kisses on the cheek.’

‘You always hurt your cheekbone, which is different,’ you corrected, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, ’I just give you kisses to make it heal faster.’

‘And why six?’

You looked away, embarrassed, and cleared your throat before confessing.

‘A while ago Sevika told me,’ you began, remembering when the criminal had discovered your obvious crush on your best friend, ’that there is an ancient type of number, Roman numerals, which are written with letters. And the ones in the number six are a v and an i.’

‘Vi,' she whispered, surprised, ‘my name.’

‘I don't know if it's true or if she was lying to me,’ you acknowledged, smiling between your flushed cheeks, ’but it's been my favourite number ever since.’

You watched her close her eyes, sighing a disbelieving laugh against your skin, and murmured a quiet "Oh, I love you", her lips still moving as she lifted her head so she could look at you again. She sat up a little, seeking her mouth with yours, and you bent low enough to kiss her again, both of you alone this time.

You slid your hand through the portion of her hair that was partially shaved, an impulsive decision she had made a few years ago, and drew her to you, knowing which parts of her face you shouldn't touch to avoid hurting her further. She dug her fingers into your flesh, opening her lips over yours, and you stifled a whimper when you had her in your mouth again.

When she slid her tongue over your neck, aiming to drown in your skin, and you managed to take a breath of air, you remembered that Vander could be back at any moment. And reluctantly, you had to make the decision to stop.

‘Hey, pretty girl,’ you inhaled, closing your eyes as you felt her open-mouthed kiss against the crook of your shoulder, ‘someone could walk in at any moment.’

She didn't stop, lost in you, and you had to make a superhuman effort not to just blow it all off and ask her to keep going.

‘Vi, baby,’ you tried again, ’c'mon.’

‘Fuck,’ she murmured under her breath, resting her forehead on your chest. ‘One day..., one day I'm going to have you all to myself. I swear.’

‘We'll decide on what day that will happen,’ you promised her, leaving another kiss on her lips, ‘I need it to come soon.’

She kissed you back, forgetting what you had just said, and you had to resort to another way of convincing her.

‘Besides, Powder would really appreciate it if you went to see her,’ you murmured against her mouth, ‘I'm sure she needs her big sis right now.’

Vi feigned a pout, ‘And you don't need your big girlfriend with you?’

‘I think I can survive without you for a moment,’ you replied, laughing as she put her hand over her heart, making it look like she was too hurt by your words. You quickly corrected yourself, ‘but just for a moment. I need you right back, huh?’

Her lips curved into a smile, the soft freckles on her cheeks stretching with happiness, and she ran her mouth up your neck, trailing kisses over your skin until she reached your lips. Exactly six.

‘I'll be right back, then,’ she said, rising to her feet.

‘I'll be waiting,’ you replied, your hand entwined with her.

She began to walk slowly backwards, stretching your arms until your fingers inevitably parted, and you curled up on the couch as you watched her disappear before you.

You leaned your head back against the backrest, listening to your girlfriend's footsteps climb the stairs to the upper floor, where the bedrooms were. Powder had probably done enough rummaging through the old plumbing outside, always on the lookout for new gadgets for her little inventions, and you reminded yourself to check the last ones she'd made to see if they worked. Ever since you had taught her everything you had learned among the streets of the Lanes, her passion had been to imitate the complex mechanisms she saw in your workshop —though no doubt with a more atomic outcome.

You adored that little girl.

Thinking of her, her wonderful big sister and what the future would bring, you spent some time lying on Vi's couch, resting your ankle, until you moved and your pocket watch dug into your ribs. When you pulled it out you saw it was so late that there was no point in waiting to see if the others would come back. 

You walked up the stairs with a pipe-turned-cane that Vander had left around in the hope that pride wouldn't prevent you from using it, and took refuge in Vi's unmade bed.

It was later in the night, when you heard Powder hushing Vi to enter the room in complete silence, that you felt your girlfriend's arms slip around you in an embrace, pressing herself close to you to sleep beside you.

‘We're going to be fine, right?’ you asked, half asleep, your voice mushy and your eyes still closed.

‘Of course, cupcake,’ she whispered back, her lips moving against the skin of your shoulder. ‘I promise.’

ㅤㅤ© dilemmars ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[brandileigh2003]

Older wolfstar fic recs: (older in age that is)

let me know what I missed and self recs are welcome (also as always check tags for each one to protect yourself) **And I know older is relative term bc most of these wolfstar are in their 30s I do believe. But. They have more life experience than in Hogwarts or uni.

--orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond: divorced parents of teddy with one bed at his graduation

-Honey If I'm Not by @brigid-faye divergent post war where remus left, jily lived, and wolfstar only reconnects years later by chance. (Also has a Sirius pov)

---used my best colours for your portrait by @littleoldrachel lie low at Lupin's with flashbacks exploring remus' life

-Looking for Moony by Writer_INFJ_2w1: meet and fall in love birthday party

-Flight of Destiny by @lucigoo lesbian wolfstar meet on plane (Luci also has several others where they're older and lots of beautiful fics

--Aging Gracelessly by orphan_account: texting fic

--the mayors of simpleton by fruity_individual divorced wolfstar get back together, raising teddy

-Second Generation by MsAlexWP single parents, getting back together. The sequel is so perfect too! It's a Nice Day for a Wolfstar Wedding

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe (second in series is mcd but this one is open ending)

-Of Memories and Milk Thievery by moonymoment raising teddy, get back together

--Birthday Blues by YouBlitheringIdiot @blitheringmcgonagall :Sirius is turning sixty and he is appalled...

--Give Quarter to Old Men - @krethes series

--dear your holiness by mollymarymarie

--The Postwar Chronicles by @sliebman10 post canon series

-Vigil Strange I Kept by whitmans_kiss explores effects of lycanthropy

--ten reasons (to go to michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 remus headed home, trying to move on from divorce

--Prettiest Star Verse by Raging_queer

-I didn’t sign up for this by Moonystoastandmarsbar divorced wolfstar

-Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @squintclover and @tracingpatternswrites rivals to lovers

-An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account raising teddy strangers to lovers

--The Road Not Taken by @mollymarymarie

-extra credit by MsAlexWP rivals to lovers

-Baby On Board by aqua_myosotis

-Of Memories, Bitter and Sweet by MsAlexWP memory loss

**luci's recs

-my love, take care of yourself by littleoldrachel

-How to romance a guy with (terrible) poetry by BayleyWinchester

-Teddy Plays Matchmaker by grow_as_we_go

-The Front Step Surprise by R33sesPieces

**Recs from others** (I haven't read all these yet but wanted to include)

--Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp (be aware there is age gap)

--The Lab by de_sire again an age gap

-Till We Have Arrived Home Again by prouvairing divergent post canon raising harry

-The Patchwork of Us by TracingPatterns

-The Things I Did by Lolo_row

-The Phoenix Agency by LupinsChocolatePraline

-The Fall by EuripidesTrousers

-Pages of You by wolfpants this is drarry main but apparently background wolfstar is really good

-Just Like Heaven by the_prettiest_w0lf_star: mechanic Sirius and librarian Remus

-soloorganaas

-impishtubist

***Self rec***

--Memories of You: mcd exploring memory loss

--Through the Years: Sirius thinks about the past and how handsome his husband is while holding their granddaughter.

--DN(R): Lie low at Lupin's era where they discuss decisions Remus made in the lost years.

**also- the wolfstar librarian is always a great resource make sure to give some likes on posts: 30yo and Up part 2 Bring Black Back Back from the Veil Lie Low at Lupin’s Post Azkaban Grimmauld Place

--Feel free to check my other rec lists, as well as the rest of my fics

[splinterclan]

what is the clan's relationship with the warrior code. Because they don't really seem too strict about it.

I just went and copy pasted the Warrior code from the WC Website and I'll put what percent they follow that rule after each one (never actually read the warrior code so this is fun jsjs)

1. Defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from the other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet them in battle. - 100%

2. Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory. - 100%

3. Elders and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors. Unless they have permission, apprentices may not eat until they have hunted to feed the elders. - 100%

4. Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to StarClan for its life. - 100%

5. A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice. - 100%

6. Newly appointed warriors will keep a silent vigil for one night after receiving their warrior name. - 100%

7. A cat cannot be made deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice. - 90% Was lax for Moor since the clan started without any apprentice age kids, but will be 100% for every deputy after her

8. The deputy will become Clan leader when the leader dies or retires. - 100%

9. After the death or retirement of the deputy, the new deputy must be chosen before moonhigh. - 100%

10. A gathering of all four Clans is held at the full moon during a truce that lasts for the night. There shall be no fighting among Clans at this time. - 0% There's 5 clans total around, but their territories are so massively far apart it's really not feasible for them to visit each other at all (like, miles apart - Oakclan is a 2-3 day journey from Splinter's camp). Every clan interaction in the game I interpret as happening with wandering rogue groups instead

11. Boundaries must be checked and marked daily. Challenge all trespassing cats. - 100%

12. No warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger, even if that kit is from a different Clan. - 100%

13. The word of the Clan leader is the warrior code. - 80% ish? the clan is just way too small for there to be the separation that is required for dictatorship effect. It's more like a family where your dad "sets rules" but you know he won't beat your ass if you disobey them, but you mostly obey them anyways bc you love him (Whorlstar is their dad)

14. An honorable warrior does not need to kill other cats to win his battles, unless they are outside the warrior code or it is necessary for self-defense. - 100%

15. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet. - 100% They won't go near or take food from humans - even when Cedar lived near one for a bit, he never took food from them.

So apparently they follow it pretty well? There seems to be a lot of unspoken rules in WC (like don't have kits with outsiders etc. Med cats can't have kits) That aren't on this list, so I guess they're not official? Idk xD I've said this before, but I have only read the first series of books so I don't have the fullest knowledge, but I do feel like with WC-based stories stuff like having the Med Cat get in trouble for having kits or half-clan relationships being persecuted are dumb rules anyways so I'd just rather write about something else

Plus clangen itself has no internal code for punishing that kind of stuff so it's all free game there too luckily ^^

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

(TFE) Starscream being a parent to the Terrans

Hear me the frag out - I've been watching the series (I'm rn at the 11th episode) and I'm loving it. It's a good show! I just fell in love with the found family trope, the Terrans are so damn adorable and when I saw Starscream (even when it was for just like 3 seconds) I went apeshit.

(★ ω ★)

And of course - I need to write about my favorite character taking the role of a parent because I can't just keep with the Hashtag and Starscream father-daughter scenarios!

WARNING: Fluff! Megastar, Starbee and Opstar hinted (yeah), Starscream being a parent even when he denies being it. Headcanons on how seekers act (?) Long ass post ngl

So, imagine Starscream was given the opportunity of 1) Not being locked up again, 2) Stay with the Malto family and 3) In general the opportunity to show he can have a change of spark just like Megatron did.

Why was he given the opportunity? When Optimus and Megatron saw how Hashtag and Starscream bonded after that near to death experience with the Dweller, and the sole mention of either Starscream leaving or being taken back to G.H.O.S.T HQ, had Hashtag begged to not take away Starscream, hugging him tightly and said seeker also get in a defense stance as he held back the young terran, both former leaders finally accepted and, after talking with both the Malto family and G.H.O.S.T (who begrudgingly accepted the situation), Starscream was welcomed into the Malto family's home.

Of course - conditions were placed on the table: Starscream was not allowed to leave the Malto family's territory without any type of vigilance and had to help around in the family. With a few complains and groans, the seeker accepted, smiling as Hashtag celebrated happily.

Aaand from there on, the seeker started to show how he was taking a parental role with the young terrans, as if it was natural.

Of course, the first one to recieve this treatment was Hashtag - the young terran was nearly always with Starscream, talking his audial off about anything and everything. But the seeker didn't mind. Of course, he still made some snarky comments here and there, but from time to time was invested in whatever his daughter Hashtag told him about. Hell, one time Optimus saw how Starscream gently snuzzled his helm against Hashtag's, optics closed as he... purred? And Hashtag was all happy, smiling and giggling at the small affection before she left with her siblings to another class with Bee.

Seekers snuzzled their sparklings. It made Optimus' spark giggle.

"I... thought you weren't one to snuzzle another bot."

Starscream yelped to then hiss at Optimus. "You saw nothing, Prime!" And quickly left to lock himself inside of the barn.

(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Next ones to start bonding closely with the seeker were Thrash and Twitch. Twitch started to try and get better at her flying abilities and was often asking Starscream to teach her more - and Bee accepted since, well, he couldn't fly and the seeker was perfect to teach anything related to flying. The young femme terran always seemed to smile brighter whenever the seeker praised her for having done correctly her training and, even when the seeker always procalimed not liking hugs... hugged her back if she gave into her bursts of affection. With Thrash it was different - the young mech terran seemed to look after the seeker to find comfort whenever Mo, Robby, Dot or Alex were not around. And Megatron once got to hear Thrash and Starscream talk.

And Megatron has never heard Starscream speak so... softly to someone else before.

"It's just - I still sometimes feel like... we do not belong! And... and I'm scared Optimus and the others are going to be disappointed in us. That we are going to fail... to our small family." The young terran confessed, hugging his legs against his chestplate, sitting by the seeker's side.

Starscream gently wrapped one arm behind the terran to pull him close. "You shouldn't feel bad for feeling like... you are not enough. It is quite normal."

"Really?"

"Yeah - I've always felt that way back with my old team, and even back at my original home in Cybertrone." The seeker explains, to then look down at the terran. "But, be easy with yourself, Thrash - you are doing more than I've ever done or any of us have done. You do belong somewhere - to earth, to your family. You are doing an amazing job at becoming a greater Cybertronian-terran."

"You... really think so?". And it seemes like Starscream affirmed silently, as Megatron heard Thrash giggle and when he peaked a little, he found Thrash hugging Starscream. "Thank you, dad - I mean, Starscream!" and soon the terran left when Mo called for him, smiling brightly.

Starcream... chuckled. His optics held such fondness it made Megatron blush. He forgot how beautiful Starscream's calm expression was...

(✿◠‿◠)

On days later - Bee has been witnessing a silent bonding between Starscream and Nightshade, the latter following Starscream whenever he was going when none of them had tasks to do or anything in general to do.

Has also catched the seeker telling stories about Cybertron and Vos, his original home, to Nightshade and the other terrans. All the young terrans held surprised and awe expressions on their faceplates - and Bee saw just how truly happy Starscream seemed to speak about his culture and about their old home.

And has even seen Starscream aid Nightshade inside of their lab, teaching them new things and do, just like he has done with Hashtag, Twitch and Thrash, gently snuzzle his helm against the terran's.

"I'm proud of you, Nightshade." Oh, the sight made Bee's spark twirl.

(｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Starscream won't say it out loud, but his spark always feels warm whenever Jawbreaker acts as a small protector whenever Optimus or Megatron visit the family. The terran has seen how Starscream becomes tense and more irritable whenever either former leaders are visiting.

"Can you please stop being a hard to deal bot with and speak with me?" Megatron asks, following Starscream who keeps his helm up, arms crossed over his chestplate.

"I ain't going out on a small walk with you, I have better things to do!" Starscream said, finally turning to look at the bigger mech.

Before Megatron can say anything else, Jawbreaker is already between them, arms wide open as if protecting Starscream.

"Jawbreaker?"

"S-Starscream said he does not wish to speak with you!" Jawbreaker said, forcing himself to stand strong. Megatron was a little bit confused, but was soon frozen at seeing Starscream smile warmly, placing a servo on Jawbreaker's helm.

"My young knight." The seeker said jokingly but fondly, and the young terran smiled proudly as he looked up at the seeker. Starscream's smile disappeared as he looked back at Megatron. "So! If you are done being a dense mech, leave! Hmph!" The seekers turns around to keep walking, not before taking Jawbreaker's servo and the terran happily followed him. Like a sparkling does following its carrier or sire...

＜（＾－＾）＞

"Daaad!!!" A chorus of happy cries are heard as 5 terrans hug the seeker.

"W-what did I told you about calling me that?!" The seeker complains as the young terrans laugh cheerfully. But the seeker smiles fondly and tries to hug all the youngs as he gently snuzzles his helm against any helm he can reach, forgetting the three mechs who were watching the whole thing.

Oh, to say at least, Optimus', Megatron's and Bee's sparks were in love with the father-children scenario.

Vhaos out!

[shadowyhideoutpeace]

Moon Knight Fic Recs.

LIST FULL PART 2

Fluff

Plenty of cuddles for everyone

Chamber of Reflection

Birdy

Because I'm in Love with You

Love You the Same

From Dust

Head over heels Steven Grant

the morning after

for all you give (i’ll give it back to you)

love you like the sun came out

Comfort

cuddle quota

Just a Kiss

Best day of my life

Frightful

Stargazing

Dyed Hair Disaster

Roses for The Strange Man

Coffee and Kisses

Secret Identities pt.2

Keep The Secret?

sky and stars (AO3)

clumsy

Moments - Part 2

Moon Nights

here with you

Won’t Say I’m In Love

The Tongue Thing

Dress Up

drunk

"did you bring a jacket?"

HAVING A BABY WITH OSCAR ISAAC’S CHARACTERS

Angst

Softcore

Loss

Everything

Comfort

Spare Key

Panic

Resolutions | 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜 | Aspiration

Smoke and Mirrors | The truth is Rarely Kind (S&M pt.2) | pt. 3

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞��

you know it's not the same | as it was

Lioness —> Moon Knight

Old friends → moon knight

perfect strangers

Bloody Hands

Scarred

Hospital Bed Confessions

Loveless God

An Eye For An Eye

Finishing the Job

Night Owl

dlz ; jake lockley.

Opia

Homecoming

You're my emergency

Stop Dead

“i’m tired of having to pretend we hate each other.”

the break-up

Blood at the corner of your mouth

Deserve

Smut

Too Good to be True

Fit To Burst

where lust ends, and love begins

While We Untangle

Cant fight the moonlight

Keep your vigils on the road

Monday mornings

fire & desire

Where To, Miss?

Gift of Min

THANK GODS (I) | THANK GODS (II)

First-Aid

Series

Red Flags

Moonstuck (AO3)

Moonknight/Eternals Crossover *

Reverence for the moon

GHOST-BLOOD//REVENANT: MASTERPOST

Sleep With Me, Anytime

Make Your Acquaintance Masterlist

Goodbye, My Dear Stranger

My You-niverse

Full Masterlists

obnoxioussmiley's Moonknight masterlist

Bibli0thecary Moonknight masterlist

Charnelhouse Moonknight Masterlist (SMUT 18+)

Bensolosbluesaber's Moonknight Masterlist

Stormkobra-5's Moonknight Masterlist

Blurbs/HCs

Living With Steven Grant Would Include…

HC for the other moon Boys reacting to the reader saying they’re pregnant

Head cannons abt the moon boys for the soul <3

[nackrosor]

~ Childhood Sweethearts ~

[Part 2 / ?]

Leon S. Kennedy x bestie!Reader

PART 1 ✨ PART 3 💫

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, eventual romance, eventual smut, depressed/traumatised Leon, angst with hurt/comfort

series synopsis: you and Leon have been friends since you can remember. You've always been there for him, especially through the bad times. He's in a bad place again and he needs you. You're the only light in his pretty dark life.

word count: 3,8k.

The hours passed slowly as you sat there, watching over him. Thankfully, only the occasional twitch of his brow and unconscious babbling disturbed his otherwise peaceful rest.

You treated his fever by placing a damp and cold cloth over his forehead until you could feel his skin had cooled considerably. Even so, your gaze never left his form, not even to rest your eyes for a moment. You remained vigilant the entire time. The events of the previous hours, as well as conjectures about what had led your best friend to his current state, lingered in your mind, pestering it for hours, although at least they ensured you stayed awake.

Eventually, the first signs of morning appeared, and the darkness outside your window faded into faint hints of light that trickled through your curtains. You thanked the sky for providing you with a clear and sunny day after such a dark and stormy night.

Only a few moments later, Leon began to stir and struggle to open his heavy eyes.

You swiftly moved to his side, kneeling by the bed. Your hand instinctively moved to his forehead to gauge his temperature again, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you felt his skin cool to the touch, just like the last time you had checked.

You stalled for a moment, waiting for his eyes to fully open before speaking.

“Good morning, Leon... How are you feeling?" You asked him softly, brushing his blonde locks of hair off his temples.

"I'm tired... Thirsty..." he complained in a raspy voice. He sounded more coherent than the previous night, although he was still struggling to articulate sentences. His throat must have been sore and his mouth pretty dry.

You were ready to stand up and fetch him a glass of water, but before you could move a finger, he reached out his hand to cup your cheek. His gaze met yours for the first time since he woke up, and you nearly gasped out loud. He flashed you that knowing look he always gives you when he acknowledges something you did before you could even tell him. His thumb brushed delicately over the bags under your eyes, as if he meant to wipe them from your skin, and you stared at him in awe as the angles of his lips twisted in a small smile. 

"You look awful…"

Your face immediately broke into a grin. There he was. There was the Leon you adored. The familiar sarcasm in his tone provided an instant balm to your fretting heart. He was clearly feeling better. At the very least, he sounded more like himself.

"Look who's talking…" you snapped back jokingly, like you always do. You two would always go back and forth, taunting and poking fun of one another until the stupid jokes had you both in stitches. It was kind of like your love language. And you'd missed it. You had missed it so much.

Smiling knowingly at him, you gently patted the back of his hand and then pulled it away from your face.

"I'll be back in a moment with some water." you announced, standing up and walking to the door. "Don't move, mh?" you teased him, arching your brow as you turned to leave the room.

As you walked away, Leon let out what sounded like a scoff, leaving you grinning even harder. And you smiled all the way to the kitchen and back to the bedroom, holding a full glass of water in one hand. You couldn't help but feel like the worst was over and things could only get better from here.

When you returned, Leon had already managed to sit straight and lean his back against the bed's headrest. He turned to look at you as you approached him again and sat down next to him.

"Thanks..." he rasped as he took the drink from you. You silently observed him as he drank the water, recalling how you had to assist him with the same task last night, when he struggled to even rest his lips against the rim. He was doing it by himself this time, with little to no trouble.

"Water should help you with your hangover..." you stated softly, taking the empty glass from him. A mischievous gleam flashed across your eyes. "But I don’t know, you're the expert..." 

Leon appeared to notice the veiled jab in your words, but instead of engaging in banter as you assumed he would, you watched as his face fell and his gaze darted to the opposite side. Your chest clenched, and you immediately felt guilty about what you'd said. Perhaps it was too soon.

"Did I... Did I cause you trouble?"

He sounded and looked ashamed as he spoke. His gaze shifted from yours to the sheets, his brow furrowing as if he was remembering or attempting to recall what had occurred the night before.

You huffed a soft giggle through your nose, aiming to lighten the situation. You couldn't bear seeing that look on his face.

"You puked all over my sink, drenched my carpet..." you began, with a humorous tone. "You took my favourite side of the bed, my clothes..." you added, gently nudging him with your knee. You were hoping to ease the tension and make him smile again.

"I guess I did cause a bit of trouble..." he conceded. You had managed to get him to crack a little smile, albeit an exhausted and short-lived one.

He cleared his throat, rubbed his palms over his face and then took a long breath. 

"Are you angry with me?" he finally asked. 

His question left you stunned for a minute. It wasn't something you'd heard from him before, and you realised it must have required a lot of courage for him to bring it up. You frowned at his serious tone at first, but you quickly offered him one of your big smiles in the hopes that it would instantly reassure him and leave no room for doubts.

"Do I look like I'm angry to you?"

Leon seemed to relax at the sight, although he still looked concerned. 

"No... No, you don't," he said quietly, glancing down then back up at you. "I really mean it, though... I really am sorry for last night. I shouldn't have..."

You gave him a puzzled look as he paused and glanced away, evidently caught up in his own thoughts. 

"Do you... Do you hate me for this?" 

Your frown only deepened in response to his question. Hate? Was he seriously afraid you'd despise him for what had happened? You hadn't expected to hear him talk like that. 

"If I hate you for coming to me for help when you needed it?" You pressed him, your tone somewhat reprimanding but also understanding, as if you were trying to reason with a hurt child.

“No, Leon. I do not hate you. I am not upset with you. Why would I be?"

You couldn't understand. Was he recollecting his dizzy thoughts from the previous night and feared that he might have done anything to jeopardise your friendship? Or was he just feeling ashamed to have let you see him in such a miserable state?

"I'm sorry... I should've..."

He paused again, seeking for the right words which hesitated to come. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms before fixing his gaze on you. Your chest tightened as you saw his lapis lazuli clouded with sorrow. 

"I... I'm just... I'm just tired. Tired of everything," he admitted with a shaky tone. "Tired of being alone." The corners of his eyes and the angles of his mouth curved into a faint, sad smile as he added in a whisper, "I wanted to see you..."

You felt a pang in your heart after hearing his admission. You grabbed his hand impulsively and squeezed it in a reassuring gesture. That must have been the reason he started drinking again, as well as the cause of his state last night. Only the thought of him staggering through the streets in the pouring rain, completely inebriated, with the sole intent of coming to see you is enough to cause a lump to form in your throat.

You had no idea how severe his loneliness was. He had never spoken about it so openly, so bluntly, actually stressing the words out loud. He had always mentioned the nightmares, the memories, and the emotions they brought back, but never how lonely he felt. Or maybe he did. Maybe he gave you the signals but you failed to pick them up. That awful notion crept into your muddled head, leaving you doubting yourself. Could you have done more for him? Could you've been more present? But you were always there for him when he needed you...

"Leon... You're not alone." You addressed firmly, despite the fact that your voice was quivering with emotion. "I'm always here for you, you know that."

He softly clasped your hand back. The melancholy in his eyes intensified, but there was a certain tenderness in the way he gazed at you.

"I know," he responded calmly, and you were soothed by the straightforward response. "I just... I just wish I wouldn't have to rely on you so much."

He took a brief pause before continuing to speak. "I know it's not easy to be around me, to help me through this."

Did that mean there had been instances when he chose not to bother you even though he needed someone? Even though he needed you to be there? The thought caused you to desperately shake your head, your frown deepened and your heart clenched. 

He looked across at your face again, his expression anguished, and before you could voice your protest, he declared, "You don't deserve all of this..."

You couldn't bear to look at his face nor listen to his self-deprecating statements. In a rush of affection, you drew in and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. 

"Stop that nonsense." you groaned, squeezing your eyes closed. "You're my best friend, Leon, and I care about you. I want you to rely on me... You will never be a burden. Never."

As you held him, he buried his head in your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you as well. He just hugged you tight and for a couple of moments he seemed unable to say anything else.

You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek. It was erratic, thumping rapidly just like yours, yet mixed with the warmth radiating off his body, it somehow managed to soothe you, even if only a little.

"I want you to know..." he began, his voice trembling noticeably. You could feel his warm breath tingling the sensitive skin of your neck. "When I have nightmares... When I wake up in the middle of the night... or  whenever those feelings resurface... The first thing I think of is that I wish you were there."

Your stomach clenched at his confession. It both devastated and touched you to hear him say that, and you were unable to convey the conflicting feeling into words. You simply hugged him closer in response, momentarily failing to speak.

"You always know how to make me feel better... Just you being there for me, being present… helps."

You sealed your eyes shut so as to keep the tears at bay, but the more he shared, the more he opened his heart to you, the harder it proved to refrain from crying. 

"I wish..." he whispered, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, "...that you were there all the time..."

He paused. The pain in his voice forced him to swallow.

"I wish it was always just you and me..."

You were truly fighting off the sobs as he gave voice to such a heart-wrenching wish. You couldn't hug him any tighter and yet you tried anyway, hoping to fully convey to him how much you cared about him, cherished him. To really make him feel your love, which was boundless.

"I wish I could always be there for you..." you managed to blurt out in answer, your voice muffled by the growing lump in your throat. You kept your cheek pressed against his chest, seeking shelter in the rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body.

One of his hands crept to the nape of your neck, slipping between your hair and cupping the back of your scalp in a panicked yet affectionate motion, pulling you closer to him.

"I wish... I wish we could go back to... The good days..."

The mounting anguish in his voice rendered it all the more challenging for you to remain strong for his sake.

"Before..." he said slowly. "When... Before..."

At the end, his voice trailed off; he seemed to be struggling with letting the words out.

You knew all too well what he meant to say, even if he failed to say it out loud and at that point it all became too much for you. A first sob escaped your lips without you could do anything to prevent it.

You raised your head from his chest, your hands moving upward to cup his cheeks in a firm but loving manner, just to make sure he looked directly at you. The sight of his glossy eyes momentarily delayed your speaking.

"I know... I know..." you mumbled, feeling your voice falter as the first tear fell from your eye, "But we can't go back. We can't. We can only move forward and do it in the best way we can. You had me beside you during the good days... You had me beside you during the bad days... You'll have me, always. I won't leave you alone."

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, as if he, too, was trying his hardest to hold back the tears. Leon opened his mouth to speak, but froze and closed his eyes, looking as though he was trying to summon the courage to share what was on his mind. His pained gaze met yours again as he reached out to brush his thumb on your cheeks to wipe the tears away.

For some time you stayed like that, just gazing at each other. The air between you buzzing with a mixture of emotions, your faces almost touching and yet no one dared to close the gap. You could have. You could have kissed him right there and then, showing him just how much you meant those words, showing him just how deep your love ran for him. But was it the right time? With Leon in such a wretched state? Wouldn't that have been like taking advantage of him? Oh, you couldn't do that to him, to your special friendship. No, that wasn't the right time… and yet, everything in you was urging you to lean forward.

His gaze travelled from yours to your lips, and his thumb followed the same path to brush away a tear that was sitting at the corner of your mouth. His stare lingered there on your lips, and you practically stopped breathing, caught in a daze. His jaw clenched again, his fingers tensed, his lips parted... But then he drew his hand away and pulled back, breaking the spell. You could hear your heart, too, shattering a little.

"Do you think..." he started but stopped right after to clear his throat. "Maybe we could..."

He attempted to get the words out again, his brow furrowing and his adam's apple bobbing hard in his throat. He eventually gave you a little smile to mask his struggle, but you could see right through it.

"Never mind... It's a stupid idea… forget it."

You blinked back the tears and tried to still the ache in your chest. Whatever he meant to say was clearly all but a stupid idea, you could feel it. 

"We could… what?" You encouraged him softly, touching his arm to reassure him and give him the courage to speak up.

Leon looked down at your hand for a brief moment before slowly returning his gaze to your face. He took a big breath to calm himself down before trying again.

"Maybe we could... Maybe we could..."

His words seemed to catch in his throat once more, and he groaned defeatedly, but you gently rubbed his arm and stared at him patiently until he finally managed to continue.

"Maybe we could... Live together... I mean-"

His eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe he'd actually said it aloud, or perhaps out of fear for your reaction. Either way, he promptly tried to downplay his own words. "I told you. It's a stupid idea, really..." 

"Live together?" you echoed his suggestion, a stunned look on your face. Your palm left his arm, nervously clasping the other hand in your lap. "You mean... like roommates?"

You thought you saw pain flash across his eyes for a split moment before he quickly concealed it under a solemn expression. 

"Yeah, like..." He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. "Like roommates..."

You could see a mix of emotions flickering in his eyes as he held your gaze; dread, hope, shame, trepidation... Then he looked away and ran his shaking hands through his hair. 

"Look, I-I know it sounds silly..." he continued, his voice filled with frustration and urgency. "I just..."

His intense gaze met yours again, and you could see desperation written all over his face.

"...I just don't want to be alone anymore. At least for a while.

He was growing exceedingly restless and nervous by the second, and before his state could get any worse, you grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight to interrupt his spiral of negative thoughts. A tender smile playing on your lips.

"There's nothing silly about it, Leon... Actually, I believe it's a good idea.” You reassured him in a soft yet resolute tone. "I could keep a constant eye on you that way," you observed, a hint of playfulness returning to your tone.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You mean you'll..." he began, but stopped mid-sentence. He blinked and frowned, seemingly taken aback by your response. "Really?" he asked. "Are you sure? You don't have to... It's a lot to ask-"

"It's not a lot to ask!" You interrupted him with a soft chuckle and a squeeze of your hands. "We're best friends! And we used to spend a lot of time together, didn't we? It will be just like in the old days... when we were younger. Except this time, instead of separating at the end of the day, we'll be sharing a house." You mused, a hint of mirth in your voice. "You can move here even right away. I'm absolutely fine with it. More than fine. I'm thrilled."

Leon remained still for a minute, his eyes drawn to your hands holding his. You swear you saw the corners of his lips twitch in a moved smile, but it vanished all too quickly, leaving you wondering if you had imagined it.

His hands slipped out of your grasp, only to wrap around yours and squeeze tightly, like if he was holding on for dear life.

"I... I just don't want you to feel like... Like you have to..."

He looked up at you again.

"Are you really okay with it?" He asked with a hint of a smile, hope shimmering like a white wave across his blue eyes. "I won't bother you?"

He evidently needed a bit more encouragement, so you smiled even bigger and declared, "It's decided!" to dismiss any further doubt. "You'll move in with me. The guest room is not as big as my bedroom, but I hope it's comfortable enough for you-"

"It's perfect!" he replied in a hurry, perhaps with too much enthusiasm, not that you would hold it against him. "Just for the simple fact that it's here with you."

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach upon hearing his remark, although you tried your best not to dwell on the feelings that it evoked inside you. All that mattered was the joy that was clearly returning to your best friend's face. And seeing him smile was all that you needed.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, closing his eyes and raising your clasped hands to his forehead. "Thank you so much." 

The sight made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush; the way he cradled your hands and nuzzled his forehead against your skin was almost too much for you to bear. Yet you tried your hardest to hold your emotions at bay. 

"Now…" you cleared your throat and gently pulled your hands back before you could say or do something dumb. "Do you think you can make it to the kitchen for breakfast? Or do I need to bring it here? 

His lovely eyes met yours again, and for some reason, this time they sent shivers down your spine.

"I'm sure I can make it to the kitchen," he replied with a smile. "Go ahead. I will be there in a minute or two."

You smiled back at him and nodded before standing.

"You know... I think this will actually do me a lot of good..." he added, causing you to halt, "I won't have to spend so much time alone." He paused, then pointed out, "You won't have to worry as much either."

"Yeah... I guess this truly is the best option for us both." You confirmed with a smile, despite the growing apprehension that was clawing at your stomach. It would be so much harder to hide your feelings from him while living under the same roof 24/7…. But you'd have to make do somehow. Leon seemed overjoyed at the prospect of moving in with you, and there was no way you could take that away from him. No way.

With one final lingering look at his serene face, you turned around and walked to the doorway, only to stop at the last minute.

"Don't take too long, or I'll eat all the croissants," you teased him, snickering at the sight of the grin that instantly lit up his face.

“You wouldn't dare…”

You merely shrugged and disappeared down the hall. 

Leon huffed an earnest chuckle as you left the room and shook his head in amusement. With a sigh he fell back down on the mattress and closed his eyes. A wave of relief washed over him as he replayed the last portion of your conversation in his head. 

"Finally..." he whispered to himself. "I can't believe it's finally happening. Now... I can begin to find my peace again..."

For the first time in years, he felt an overwhelming sense of joy and hope for the future. 

"Thank you," he uttered, raising his hands to cover his face as the tears he fought so hard to suppress began to prickle his eyes. This time, he did not hold them back. 

"Just... Thank you."

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