je t’aime, eddie: four

summary: “pardon my french, eddie spaghetti, but you’re the cutest fucking person i have ever seen.”

word count: 2,143

pairings: reddie, side stenbrough, side benverly, lots of platonic kaspbrough

a/n: i wrote this so quick on christmas day because i literally can’t stop writing this now it’s like an addiction

1, 2, 3, 4


“what the fuck, richard?” stan quoted, thinking of one of his all time favorite vines. this earned him a loud laugh from everyone at the lunch table, but not eddie. richie sat down at the table and pulled out a single twizzler.

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Word Prompts // Pain
  1. “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.” 
  2. “It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”
  3. “I finally understood what true love meant…love meant that you care for another person’s happiness more than your own, no matter how painful the choices you face might be.”
  4. “Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.”
  5. “I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.”
  6. Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”
  7. “Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.”
  8. “Without pain, how could we know joy?”
  9. “It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
  10. “Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
  11. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling.”
  12. “I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.”
  13. “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read.”
  14. Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”
  15. “If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible.”
  16. “The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.”
  17. “We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”
  18. Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.”
  19. “Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”
  20. “Take pride in your pain; you are stronger than those who have none”
  21. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
  22. “The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”
  23. “ Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands - literally thousands - of songs about broken hearts and rejection and pain and misery and loss.”
  24. “We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation.”
  25. “I thought I’d lie on the floor and writhe in pain for a while.“
  26. Pain insists upon being attended to.”
  27. “My rapier wit hides my inner pain.
  28. Sometimes it is nothing more than gritting your teeth through pain, and the work of every day, the slow walk toward a better life.
  29. “One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.”
  30. “It takes courage to love, but pain through love is the purifying fire which those who love generously know.”
  31. “Behind every beautiful thing, there’s some kind of pain.
  32. "It’s a tear. It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride." 
  33. “Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain.
  34. “The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes.”
  35. “Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal.”
  36. “Because the pain of all your experience is what makes you the person you are now.”
  37. “Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you.”
  38. "No one commits suicide because they want to die. It’s because they want to stop the pain.
  39. “Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?”
  40. Pain is a pesky part of being human, I’ve learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here.”
  41. “Pain is a sudden hurt that can’t be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing.”
  42. “When you feel like you need to cry, when you want to just get it out, relieve some of the pressure from the inside - that is true pain. Because no matter how hard you try or how bad you want to, you can’t. That pain just stays in place.”
  43. “I have a high pain threshold. In fact, it’s more of a large and tastefully decorated foyer than a threshold. But I do get easily bored”
  44. “Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”
  45. “ In order to be free, we must learn how to let go. Release the hurt. Release the fear. Refuse to entertain your old pain.
  46. “Face your life, its pain, its pleasure, leave no path untaken.”
  47. “That is all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.”
  48. “It’s easy to look at people and make quick judgments about them, their present and their past, but you’d be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides.”
  49. “I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.
  50. “A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.”
  51. “You are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.
  52. Pain is strange. A cat killing a bird, a car accident, a fire…. Pain arrives, BANG, and there it is, it sits on you. It’s real.”
  53. “Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.”
  54. “Keep in mind, hurting people often hurt other people as a result of their own pain.
Share A Bed

A/N: This is my first Spencer Reid fic on here so please enjoy! Requests are open and so is the tag list! Thanks boos! I would love feedback!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Fluff??


Reid silently hung his scarf on one of the small hooks that decorated the foyer of your small apartment. He slid his shoes on the small, rubber mat placed directly under the scarf. It was early October and the scarf gave the illusion that it was further along in the Autumn season, but Reid had never minded being a little warmer than necessary. He slowly undid the buttons of his cardigan, placing it on the wooden chair placed in the corner. He then made his way down the hall, and to the kitchen.

His satchel still hung at his hip as he slid a mug under the coffee maker. You had purchased it specifically for these nights, when Spencer’s mind would continue to work after the jet had landed, and the building had been locked. He quickly scurried to the table, laying his files and paperwork about in various, logical positions. He then set his satchel down, the leather worn, but matching the cozy feeling of the small room. He took a leap back over to the mug, which was now full, before the brewer could make the alarming noise.

Spencer had the key to your apartment for nights like this. You had only been dating for a short period of time but your heart told you to let him into the more sacred place of your life. Your threshold of knowledge, and comfort held its own charm that Spencer had fallen in love with as he had fallen in love with you. The place gave him as much comfort as you did, even if only a ghost of your form inhabited the air he breathed.

He was now at the table, writing, and reviewing, but not opening into anything new. He had lost is train of thought during the jet ride back and now felt the urge to continue the work he neglected, even though the option to finish it up tomorrow morning was clearly available. But, then again it was technically tomorrow morning.

The coffee wafted into his nostrils, and the small lamp, which was another purchase you had made in his name, was slowly overheating. Spencer yawned, but continued to move along into the papers shuffling around him.

Your footsteps could be heard, but not by the scrawny genius who was far too into his work for the early hour. You had known it was him by the way the lamp light subtly traveled through the hall, down to your door, and the sound of papers was all too familiar. You slid your feet onto your wooden floor and pulled your body down from the mattress that was on a larger post than needed. You quickly, but quietly made your way to the kitchen.

You stood their silently, watching your boyfriend work continuously. His eyebrow twitched a little with every flick of his pen, and his lips pursed between sighs. You smiled.

“Hey there handsome,” you smiled into your words, feeling the rise of your cheeks.

He looked up, only to recognize the form of the woman before him vaguely, for it being a little too late and dim, and then the images flushed into his sight. A smile pulled the corner of his eyes slightly upward, but then concerned filled his orbs.

“Why are you awake?” he asked.

You just let a humorous breath escape before you moved over to his side. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and breathed in the smell of his hair and skin. “Why don’t you come to bed?” you asked. This was a daring question considering he usually slept on the couch, per the newness of your relationships level.

He looked up to meet your gaze, “I was planning on pulling out the-,” he started.

“I meant my bed,” you kissed the top of his crown, “Or I guess our bed now”. Spencer’s body was relaxed, yet a nervous aurora was emitted into the surrounding oxygen that would eventually fill your lungs.

“I mean I have this-,” he started again, but you interrupted once more.

“There’s always more,” this was true, there was no lie to your response. He sighed, set his blue-inked pen down, and then stood. You knew that the only way to get him off that wooden chair was to surprise him with something daring and new.

 He followed you into your room, and you slowly closed the door behind you. He quickly changed in your bathroom, and then came back out, you were already in the blankets.

“Are you sure this is, uh,” and for the third time you answered to his incomplete sentence.

Nodding, “Yeah Spence,” and with that he moved, cautiously to the opposite side of the bed. He entered the fortress of linen, and you naturally scooted over, after switching the hardened plastic of the light cord.

You both slowly, and gradually moved towards the center of the mattress, and slowly but surely both of you were lightly snoring into each other.

Sun light from a late afternoon danced across the room through the worn curtains. Both of you, cuddled in the center of your bed, lightly snoring still, with the smell of coffee in the air, and the feel of an Autumn that was not just quite as Autumn as perceived by those walking the streets.

Your bed was warm, and the scarf would continue to hang, as it would not be needed for another few days.

Originally posted by rikkisixx

This is the second fic in a series of Lana del Rey inspired stories. This fic is based off the song Cola

Title: Cola

Summary: Bianca gets ready to meet Negan, the man who is going to take over her business with or without her permission and so she decides to fight back. (AU)

Pairing: Negan x Bianca

Warnings: Smut, oral sex. 

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Finally (Elorcan fic for Yulemaas)

For Maria ( @shutup-mundie ) who requested a fic for one of her SJM ships for her Yulemaas Secret Santa! ( @yulemaas )

I’m not sure if this will be posted a day too early or not due to time difference since I’m usually a day earlier than everyone :p

Here is an almost 4K Elorcan fluff fic two years after the war. I hope you like!

None of the characters used are mine. All copyright of Sarah J. Maas.

From your Secret Santa <3

Title: Finally

Word Count: 3,731

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Elide/Lorcan

Characters: Elide, Lorcan, Aelin, Aedion, Rowan, Maeve

Additional Tags: Nightmare, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Future, Love, Cuddling

Language: English


It was only two years after the war with Maeve and Erawan did Elide Lochan start to grow comfortable around Lorcan once more. Their talks are much more at ease and their interactions far less awkward. Little did she know, her feelings for him never left as his for hers. They were only hidden deep inside her where she chose to ignore the tingling she felt whenever he was around.

On a duty given by his queen, Lorcan Salvaterre had to stay three nights in Perranth with the human girl he fell in love with two years ago. He did not mind, of course, other than the fact that he had severe nightmares about losing Elide almost every night. No one else knew since his wing in the Terrasen castle was far from everyone else.

A short story for Elorcan in which Elide discovers Lorcan’s nightmares from being apart from her.

Lorcan ran through the forest as fast as he could, following the sounds of the mangled screams coming from deep within the trees. He had lost them. The ilkens took Elide and he had lost them halfway.

Never had he hated himself more.

Lorcan pushed his legs faster as he came closer and closer to Elide’s screams. He broke through the lining of the trees just as he saw Elide’s bloodied body drop to the forest floor, her arms and legs mangled as the ilken flew away.


With as much power left in his body from the sight in front of him, Lorcan dropped beside Elide’s body. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth parted as blood dripped out.

“Elide.” Lorcan whispered, tears welling up in his eyes as he cradled her body delicately in his arms.

“No. No. You can’t be dead. No.” he kept repeating, each time getting louder and louder.

“NO!” Lorcan gasped as he sat up on his king sized bed. He glanced around the room he was in, realising that it was only another dream. A dream he’d been having for the past two years ever since the war ended.

With shaky hands, Lorcan reached up and wiped his tears away as his vision slowly cleared with each brush. It had become a common routine for him to wake up at dawn in cold sweat, wiping away his tears before he got out of bed and burned away the scare of the dream through a day of training.

And he did just that.

It didn’t take long for Lorcan to push himself out of bed. He took a quick shower, dressing in his training gear before leaving the room as he willed the dream of Elide dying away from his mind once more.



Lorcan paused his jab towards Aedion as the voice of his queen resonated from behind him. Aedion smirked, as if he knew what she was going to say.

Good luck, Aedion mouthed as he moved away from him to another opponent on the training field.

“What is so important that you need to cut my training?” Lorcan asked without facing her, moving towards the bench where his tunic laid. He took it in his hands, wiping his face away from the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead.

“It’s regarding Elide.”

Immediately Lorcan perked up, his stance straighter and his face much more serious.

“What about her?”

Aelin smirked to herself. She was sure she looked a lot like Aedion when she did so. No matter how much Lorcan tried to hide his expression from her, she knew he was still madly in love with Elide Lochan. And Aelin had grown tired of both of their sulking, albeit not often but it was there.

It was quite common when Elide visited Terrasen that her eyes strayed around in every room they walked. As if she was trying to look for someone. Sometimes she’d daydream during their conversations of a demi-fae Aelin knew, although she tried to deny it. Lorcan was the same sometimes during meetings.

“I need you to stay three nights in Perranth. You leave tomorrow morning at dawn.”

“And why do I need to do that?” Lorcan asked, trying to reign in his anxious tone although his heart was about to beat out of his chest like a lovelorn teen. Which he was at that point, he wasn’t going to deny.

“There are some visitors coming into Perranth again to discuss a few deals with Elide. And I want you to overlook the visitors coming into the area. Make sure they are of no harm to Perranth or to their Lady.”

“You’ve been sending Gavriel to do that the past few months. Why me this time?” Lorcan finally faced Aelin, his face reigned expressionless.

“You know why.” Aelin replied, staring straight into Lorcan’s onyx eyes before walking off back into her Terrasen castle. She knew he wasn’t going to reject.

Lorcan sighed, dropping himself on the bench that once held his items that were now scattered on the ground. It was obvious to everyone that he missed Elide but he never thought of what he’d do when he actually had the chance to meet her. Let alone stay with her for three nights. It was true, of course, that they have become acquaintances once more and their interactions were more civilised. But there was still a slight air of hostility from Elide whenever he came around.

“Why do you look so upset when you’re finally meeting the woman you’ve been sulking over the past two years.” Aedion’s voice came out of nowhere as he settled himself beside Lorcan.

“Because,” Lorcan paused, “I don’t know what to do when I meet her.” He finally admitted, running his hands through his hair in frustration before burying his face in them.

“Apologize. Show her you’ve changed. That you’re willing to do anything for her, which I’m pretty sure you are willing to do.”

“I know that. But what if she refuses me?”

“Then she refuses you, Lorcan. You can’t force anything on her. You can’t make her change her emotions for you.”

Lorcan suddenly felt a burning inside him when Aedion thought he would ever force anything on Elide.

“I’d never make her do anything. Never.” Lorcan repeated, staring into Aedion’s eyes. His anger was clearly visible.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying.”

Lorcan sighed as he made the tension within him wear off, “I know.”

“Well, all I can say now is good luck.”


Lorcan didn’t bother sleeping that night, not wanting to be fazed during his walk to Perranth from the nightmare he would get if he did sleep. He just hoped that Elide put him in a room far from everyone else so their night wouldn’t be disrupted by his nightmares.

With his mind going in many different directions, Lorcan didn’t realize how fast it took him to arrive at Perranth. The sun was now high in the sky, beating down rays of heat all over. With all his gear strapped onto his back, he made his way towards the castle entrance. He knew, for a fact, that Elide didn’t have many servants within the castle. She only had what was needed to clean up and tend to guests.

So he wasn’t shocked when he knocked upon the castle door to only receive Elide opening it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Aelin sent me here. To overlook the new gusts.”

“Where’s Gavriel?”

Lorcan only shrugged as he looked at the small woman in front of him, dressed in leather pants and a tunic. He vaguely remembered overhearing a conversation Aelin had that Elide no longer liked wearing dresses, since her mangled ankle was apparently exposed.

“Are you going to come in or just stand there?” Elide’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts as she walked away from the open castle door.

“When do the guests arrive? And when is the meeting?”

“Tonight. For both.”

Only then did Lorcan notice the servants running back and forth around the foyer, bringing decorations of all sorts to put up and prepare.

He wondered what it would be like to live in Perranth. Just like he dreamed before he fucked everything up.


Lorcan snapped his head in the direction of Elide’s voice as he realised he must have been lost in thought once more.

“Yes?” A single word was all he could muster as he watched Elide leaning against the railing of the wide staircase with her arms crossed.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Lorcan followed Elide silently, his powers automatically bracing Elide’s mangled ankle with him realising only moments after. She paused in her steps when she felt the brace wrap around her ankle, before moving forward once more towards the guest bedrooms.

“You know you don’t have to do that.”

Lorcan didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer. He braced her ankles willingly, of course. He would do anything for her honestly and simply bracing her ankles made him feel better knowing she could walk with less pain.

It didn’t take them long to reach the gust bedroom, Elide briefly showing him the en suite bathroom and where all his stuff should go.

“My room is just down the hall, the two wooden doors. Just down the stairs to the right is the kitchen and to the left the guest area. Feel free to go wherever.” Elide paused, “Except my room of course.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lorcan teased.

“I’m sure.” Elide answered, a small smirk nestled on her face as she left his temporary room for three nights.

I wanted to go to Perranth with you.

The words slowly trailed inside his mind, as he truly realised where he was. Memories from two years ago in that cave with Elide bubbled up as she left the room.

“Get rid of them, Lorcan. You’re only here for three nights.” He mumbled to himself.

He could only hope that his nightmares were mild compared to what they were the duration of his stay.


Elide Lochan was going to kill Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

She could not believe that Aelin sent Lorcan for watch duty of the guests. Elide had become use to Gavriel. They had a fairly nice friendship. But then Aelin decided to send Lorcan of all people to do guest duty this time. For three nights at that when he only needed to stay for one.

I am going to kill her the next time I go to Terrasen.

Rowan wouldn’t let you touch her, her mind answered back as if it was smug that it was right.

Elide was not going to deny that her feelings for Lorcan Salvaterre were still there. Actually, they were more prominent now as she had understood and forgiven him for what he’d done two years ago.

She, shamelessly, would have done the same if something of the sort happened to Lorcan.

Elide dropped herself against her bed, staring up at the beige ceiling of her master bedroom. She didn’t know what to do. To be honest, she didn’t mind Lorcan staying. It was her feelings for him that she did not know how to cope.

Elide knew she wanted him then and still wants him now. The problem was that she’s afraid that he would do the same thing.

“Do you really think he’d do the exact same thing again? The guy is practically in love with you, Elide. He learned from his mistakes and he’d grovel at your feet if you asked him.”

“But what if he does do the same thing again?”

“He wouldn’t. Trust me.”

She remembered Aelin’s words when she visited Terrasen for a few days. Aelin had confronted her quite abruptly about Elide’s feelings for Lorcan, hiding nothing about his despair since the war ended.

What to do. What to do.

In the end, she pushed away her doubts to concentrate on the meeting tonight.

She could only hope that Lorcan didn’t distract her too much.


Lorcan thought he wasn’t going to make it through the night as he watched Elide in front of the meeting room, fierce as ever as she made negotiations with the visiting guests.

The sight in front of him made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long while. Specifically since that night in the cave with Elide. It was true that he still loved her and it was true he’d kill himself for her if he had to but he had been feeling these things from afar.

Now with her in such close proximity, he felt like everything was amplified tenfold.

“…and that’s why I believe that Perranth would be a good addition for trade amongst your kingdoms. Specifically for the small villages as we can provide…”

Elide’s voice drowned out once more in Lorcan’s mind as he tried to clear his thoughts of her. Instead, he shifted to his sleep tonight. His room was close, so close, to Elide’s master bedroom that he didn’t known how to hide his nightmares. There was only one other person that knew of his situation:

Rowan Whitethorn.

Rowan had stumbled over to Lorcan’s room one late night after a fight with Aelin (in which they made up the next day quickly) and had heard the thrashing within the room. By the end of the night, Rowan had forgotten his problems and had helped Lorcan instead. He also swore to him that he wouldn’t tell anyone else after much persuasions on Lorcan’s part.

And he’d like to keep it that way.

“…Thank you all for coming. Please enjoy more of the food outside if you would like and I believe you have been shown to your rooms by the servants. Have a good night.”

The silence that enveloped the room before was quickly filled with murmurs and chattering of the guests. Lorcan kept an eye out for anyone that may seem like a threat. Truth be told, he was also looking at all the males in the room that might upsize him.

Without realizing, Lorcan was smiling to himself as he knew exactly what Elide would’ve said to him for watching the males:

Territorial Fae Bastard

A few of the guests stayed back to talk with Elide while the others quickly dispersed to their rooms to discuss amongst each other the things that were said in the meeting. It didn’t take long for those few guests to quickly leave with a hasty good night. Within the hour, it was only Lorcan and Elide left in the room.

“Tired?” Lorcan tested the waters, seeing if Elide would be willing to talk to him.

“Why ask if you know?”

Lorcan chuckled. He had missed her remarks, no matter how harsh they were sometimes.

“Because I didn’t want to assume,” he paused, “Are they leaving tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow morning, yes.”

Only then did it hit Lorcan that he only needed to stay for one night too if the guests were leaving the next day.

So why did Aelin want him to stay for three?

He didn’t ponder on it for too long, not wanting to ruin the fragile friendship him and Elide had at the moment. Also, he would never go against his queen. Not after what he did two years ago.

“Aren’t you tired?” Elide suddenly asked, seating herself at the head of the table while Lorcan sat two chairs away from her on her right.

“I don’t sleep much these days.”

Elide stared at him weirdly, raising an eyebrow at high vague answer.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.” Lorcan answered straight to the point, hating the topic of his nightmare entirely.

That only caused both of Elide’s eyebrows to rise.

“Well, then, alright. Keep it to yourself.”

Lorcan could only shrug at her answer. He really did despise the topic of his nightmare. Although no one knew but Rowan.

“It’s quite late,” Elide paused, “I think I’m just going to go to bed. You know where your room is and where everything is in the castle. If you ever feel like getting a midnight snack to soothe your old age you know where it is.”

Elide left the meeting room with Lorcan laughing in the background and her heart feeling a little bit happier.


“You were suppose to save us! You said you were on our side!”

“Elide, please.” Lorcan begged on his hands and knees, willing her to listen.

“If you didn’t betray us, this wouldn’t have happened!” Elide screamed at him, tears streaming down her delicate face as Maeve held her with a blade pressed against her throat, “No one would be hurt!”

“Maeve stop, please. I’ll do any-“

Maeve only gsvr Lorcan a sadistic grin before slicing the blade mercilessly across Elide’s throat.

“NO!” He screamed louder than he ever did before.

“No. No. No.” Lorcan crawled over to Elide’s bloodied body, cradling her in his arms.

“Elide. No. Eli-“

“Lorcan! Wake up!”

Lorcan gasped awake, his body covered in cold sweat. He vaguely felt a small hand on his shoulder before he ran to the bathroom and threw up his dinner in the toilet. His stomach emptied and, even then, he was still dry heaving into the toilet.

In the two years of Lorcan having nightmares, not once had he threw up before. But he had never, never, had a dream with Maeve in it either. And the fact that she was made him feel sick to the bones. His body was shaking as he finally finished dry heaving as he collapsed on his hands and knees on the bathroom floor. Everything was spinning and his limbs felt like they were going to fall off his body in any second.

“…Lorcan. Lorcan!”

Lorcan managed to turn his head slightly, his body going into another mini shock when he saw Elide standing over him. Only then did he feel her soft hand pressing against his bare shoulder and her face crumpled in worry.

“…Lorcan! Say something. Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

Lorcan attempted to push himself off the ground, only for Elide to help him entirely. He would have laughed at how a human girl half his size had so much strength to help him if he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse at any moment. It didn’t take long for Lorcan to rinse his mouth quickly at the sink before manoeuvring to the bed with Elide’s help.

“What was that, Lorcan?” Elide asked, moments after she sat him down on the edge of his bed.

Lorcan sighed, burying his face in the palms of his hands. He was still shaking, shivering, from the nightmare. He never wanted to see that again. The image was so close to the memory from two years ago if Lorcan hadn’t come back in time to save Elide.

“Lorcan. What was that?” Elide repeated, crossing her arms as she watched him.

After a beat of silence, Lorcan answered.

“It wasn’t anything. I’m fine.” He croaked out.

“That wasn’t nothing, Lorcan!” Elide’s voice rose with every word, her eyes filling with rage.

“It happens all the time, Elide! I’m fine!”

“You’re not! You look exhausted since the moment you walked into this place! What. Is. Happening.” Elide bit out, her tone getting much more frustrated by the second.

“They’re nightmares, Elide!”

A silence set upon them before Lorcan continued.

“They’ve been happening for two years already.” Lorcan stood up, his breathing coming out in pants as he finally vented all his frustrations, “And I can’t do anything about it! It’s always about you! You’re either dead or in the process of dying and all I can do is stand there like I did two years ago like the useless warrior I am!” Lorcan yelled before crumpling to the ground beneath him, burying his face in the palms of his hands once more.

Elide stood there, starting at the space where Lorcan previously sat on the bed.

“It’s always about you!”

She didn’t know how to react to that. It wasn’t a secret, well other than to Lorcan, that she still liked him after the initial hate left her. She understood to an extent of his position and how she might’ve done the same if they were switched.


He didn’t answer, staying crumpled on the ground as he was the whole time before.

“Lorcan, please.”

Again, he didn’t answer. Only the shaking of his shoulders showed Elide that he was, in fact, alive.

He’s crying.

“Lorcan,” Elide whispered, kneeling in front of him. She took his face gently in the palms of her hands, brushing away his tears with the pads of her thumb.

“Just-Just go, Elide. I understand what I did two years ago was unforgivable and that I might never repa-“

Elide cut him off immediately, pressing her lips against his as her hands slid up and into his hair. Lorcan’s eyes widened before his entire body relaxed into the kiss. His large hands rested on Elide’s hips, pulling her closer and onto his lap. Lorcan faintly felt the tears slide down his face once more. But for once, it was from happiness. From the fact that Elide Lochan was kissing him right now and if it were to be the last time she did, he’d die a happy man.

“Elide,” Lorcan whispered, leaning his forehead against hers once they pulled apart, “W-What-“

“You’re such an idiot, Lorcan.”

“What? Why?” Lorcan’s eyes turned into slits although his heart felt like beating right out of his chest.

“Because you should’ve come to me. Because I don’t hate you. Because I-I still like you-you Fae Bastard.”

Lorcan could only stare at Elide before laughing softly to himself. This only seemed to anger Elide further.

“You think this is funny? You’re such a bastard, Lorcan. Why did I ever-“

This time he was the one that cut her off with a kiss, his hands pulling her impossibly closer. He lifted her up in his arms, laying her down on where he once laid before pulling away.

You still like me?”

“Do I have to say it again?”

“Yes. Say it again.”

Elide couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto her face. She reached up, brushing away a few dark strands of his hair from his face.

“I still like you Lorcan Salvaterre. And I’m willing to try something again to-to make this work.”

Lorcan laughed in joy, his eyes brimming with tears once more.

“Elide. Elide. Elide,” he buried his face in her neck, “Y-You don’t know how-how this means so much to me. I thought it was impossible. That you hated me completely.”

Lorcan leaned in, kissing her once softly on the lips, “I love you. And I know you’re not there yet but I’ll wait decades if I have to. Thank you. Thank you.”

Elide laughed as Lorcan quietly shifted himself to lay beside her. She immediately settled herself beside him, burying her face in his chest. Lorcan’s hand reached up, brushing through Elide’s soft hair.

“Will you stay in Perranth, Lorcan?” Elide asked quietly, just as they were about to fall asleep.

“Anything for you, love.”

Lorcan only returned to Terrasen a month later, with Elide by his side.

Aelin and Rowan had never been more relieved.

now I'll take you by the hand

Westallen Secret Santa gift from @latebarryallen for @trashywestallen

for TrashyWestAllen! I tried to incorporate the prompt ’WA meet as adults when journalist Iris needs to interview CCPD’s top CSI’, ‘mistletoe’ and making out from one of your top Westallen scenes! Hope you like it! Merry Christmas!

Barry is running late to the Central City Police Department Christmas party. Because of course he is.

He’s wearing a Christmas sweater, an ugly thing that feels itchy against his wrists and neck. It’s red and gold and has some kind of reindeer pattern all across it. He’d picked it up in a hurry after being reminded that the theme for the party was ugly Christmas sweaters, because the HR department are full of devils.

He’s maybe being dramatic. But he’s nervous - he only joined CCPD this year as their newest CSI, having spent the past few years gaining experience over in Florida. And this is the first time he’ll be really socialising with his co-workers without the excuse of work back at his lab to do when he runs out of conversation.

He straightens his sweater one last time and runs a nervous finger over his left eyebrow, as if that’ll do anything to smooth it down. He walks in straight through the main entrance, like he does most days, except now there’s Bill Cosby playing through the speakers instead of fire drills, and twinkling lights decorate the foyer. There’s a patrol shift still on duty, booking criminals and maintaining order; Barry probably shouldn’t be jealous of them.

He finds his way to the detective bullpen where most people are gathered, and raises a hand in greeting. He sees Joe West talking to Captain Singh, Detective Wilson sniggering over the punch with Lily from Finance, and DA Horton chatting easily with one of the crime scene cleaners easily.

His plan is to drop off his secret santa gift and then find someone similarly awkward to talk to. He’s knows some of the officers and he’s friendly with the crime scene analysts, so he should be okay.

After all, he has an interview tomorrow.  After he’d solved the cold case of the Hapsberg Killer, he’d attracted a stupid amount of press attention, despite his protests and clear desire to retreat back to his office. He did a press conference, but apparently that wasn’t the end of it. Captain Singh had been wanting him to do a full television interview on one of the morning shows, which, no. Never. The compromise was one interview in CCPN, a written profile that would be partly on his job as a CSI and partly on the Hapserg case.

He really wasn’t looking forward to it. Some annoying journalist, Ms. West, asking him stupid questions about his motivations, his process of deduction? What was he supposed to say other than, he re-examined the evidence? He’s a CSI, not some kind of damned superhero.

But just as he steps forward toward Detective Keele, his path is abruptly blocked by someone else.

They catch themselves with two flat palms on his chest. “Woah,” she says, and she’s short enough that he just has a view of dark hair before she steps back and looks up. And then he’s just a bit speechless.

She’s beautiful, flashing a killer smile like it’s easy, with warm, brown eyes and a jaw he’d love to touch. He forces those thoughts to stop and lets out an awkward chuckle. “Uh, hi,” he says. He steps aside to let her pass, assuming she’d want to keep going in whatever direction was so important.

But she doesn’t - instead, her eyes seemed appraising. “Hey,” she says, and then there’s that smile again. “You’re not a detective, I’d recognise you.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “No, just a CSI, I’m afraid.”

“You’re Barry Allen?”

He frowns, because he would definitely remember that face if he’d met it before. “Um. Yes? Who-”

“I’m Iris,” she says, and sticks out her hand for him to shake. “I’m avoiding my ex-boyfriend.”

“Ah,” he says, even as he shakes her hand. “Do I know him?”

She pulls a face. “Almost definitely.”

She doesn’t seem to want to give him any more information, and he decides not to ask for it. He’s rewarded with the flicker of relief that crosses her face as he says, “Alright. But I do have to know - did you not read your invitation?”

Iris’s brows crease, despite her smile. “What do you mean?”

He gestures to her, and then to himself. “You seem to be wearly a perfectly sensible and muted Christmas sweater. It only has two colours. Whereas I actually adhered to the theme: ugly Christmas sweater.”

She giggles. “It was the only one I had!”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah, right. Unless it has sound effects, it doesn’t count.”

“That’s fair,” she acquises. “But I only decided to come last minute. We can’t all have PG-13 sweaters.”

He frowns. “What do you mean, PG-13?”

Her eyes go wide, and she hides a snicker behind her hand. “Oh, did you not- Barry, the reindeers on your sweater are, uh, really getting into the Christmas spirit.” At his continued blank expression, she clarifys, “They’re fucking.”

Barry goes completely and obviously bright red. He looks down just as she reaches to tap one of the offending reindeer with a painted nail. Sure enough, the reindeer pattern he hadn’t looked too closely at was one of… frolicking animals.

“Get it, Prancer,” Iris comments, straight-faced.

He scowls good-naturedly. “Shut it. They- this is awful. I’m going to have to avoid everyone I work with!”

She erupts into peals of laughter. “Did you really not notice?”

“I thought they were just dancing,” he says sadly, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Come on,” she says, wiping her eyes once she sobers up. “Let’s get you a glass of punch.”

“I knew I should’ve stayed at home,” he says, even as she takes his hand and drags him to the buffet table.

“Nah,” she dismisses. “We can still save the evening.”

He tries to contain the flutter of hope at her use of ‘we’. He changes the subject, even as she ladles berry-red punch into a small plastic cup. “So, you never said why you came. Do you work here?”

“I do a lot of my work here, yes,” she says. Which could be an answer, except for how she’s clearly missing out some important details. Before he can press further, she pushes the cup into his hands and demands, “Drink. Loosen up, Barry. It’s a party, not an interview.”

He obligingly takes a sip, admitting, “I’m not wonderful at, uh, socialising.”

She nudges him with her elbow. “You’re doing fine with me.”

“That’s because you’re-” he stops himself just in time. There’s a wealth of adjectives he could’ve used, all of which would be too forward and horrible and cheesy for a woman he’d just met. He takes another gulp of his punch, ignoring the sickly sweet taste.

“I’m what?” Because of course she wouldn’t let him get off that easy.

He looks back at her. “You’re a great conversationalist.”

Good save, Allen. (So why does she look disappointed?)

“You seem like a private person,” she comments.

He shoves a hand into his pocket. “Maybe. I-” He freezes as he sees something over the top of Iris’ head.

Or rather, someone.

He hisses under his breath, “Fuck.” At Iris’s alarmed expression, he explains, awkwardly with a hand on the back of his neck, “Um, you know how you were avoiding an ex-boyfriend? How do you feel about helping me avoid an ex-girlfriend?”

Iris’s eyes widen. She immediately turns as if to look for Patty herself, and Barry quickly stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns at the dangerous twinkle in her eyes.

“You dated a police officer?”

“Detective,” he admits.

“It didn’t go well, then?”

He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, we’re still really good friends. She walks my turtle every week and we play bridge together- No, it didn’t go well! That’s why I want to avoid her.”

Sniggering, she steps closer and unavoidably into his personal space. “You have a turtle?”

“Of course that’s what you pick up on,” he groans. He realises he still has a hand on her arm and he abruptly drops it.

“Come on, haven’t you heard the expression, ‘don’t shit where you eat’?” She teases.

He can’t help himself; he laughs. “Hey, aren’t you throwing stones? Let’s go find your ex and-”

“Nope, no, nada,” she says as he pretends to turn away, grabbing onto his upper arms to stop him moving. “Eddie really won’t want to talk to me.”

His eyes widen in realisation. “Wait- Eddie? Detective Thawne? Pretty-Boy?”

“Yes, I-” She stops. “Wait. Pretty-Boy?”

Ah. Barry shuffles his feet. “Well- uh. I didn’t come up with that. And he definitely doesn’t know we call him that.”

But a smile stretches her plush lips. “Huh. You know he keeps a tally of his arrests on a chalkboard at his apartment?”

Barry’s jaw actually drops. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I kind of wish I was.” Iris looks out of the side of her eyes and obviously sees something. She turns back to Barry and squeezes his biceps. “You’re the CSI, right? That means you must have an office somewhere.”

“Yeah, it’s upstairs, why-” But she’s already gone, weaving elegantly through the crowd of his colleagues. He’d be offended at her assumption except he’s walking without thought to follow her. She has him hooked at this point, and he’s just hoping she won’t toss him back into water.

She’s waiting by his office door by the time he makes it upstairs, leaning against the wall. She’s wearing tight blue jeans underneath her sweater, with heels tall enough to make him wonder how short she’d be without them. Then he wonders how she’d look to him without that sweater either, and he stops those thoughts quickly.

He unlocks his door and slides it open. “Took you long enough,” she nudges him with his elbow as she walks in. “Thought those long legs were supposed to be good for something other than looming.”

“I don’t loom,” he refutes, which, good one.

“So this is where you work,” she says, spinning around a little as she walks in. She reaches to touch a microscope, and Barry actually feels a shiver coarse down his spine. He’s ridiculous, and well aware of it, but Iris is beautiful enough even when she isn’t… running her fingers all over his machinery.

His own thoughts are making his cheeks go red. What is wrong with him?

He pushes the arms of his sweater up and sticks his hands in his pockets. “What do you think?” He asks.

She makes a humming noise in thought, playful. She pretends to tap her chin. “Could use a bit of colour,” she suggests, and he snorts. “Maybe a splash of red, right across that wall.”

“Red’s my favourite colour,” he offers.

“There you go,” she says, as if she’s actually pleased with her interior decorating plan. “I’ll put a word in with Singh.”

He laughs as he walks closer to her. “You’ll do no such thing.”

She nods, leaning to the point of almost sitting on his desk as he steps even nearer. “Maybe he’ll get you a nice rug as well.”

The only light comes from the street outside and in the gaps where his huge door meets the walls. He scoffs. “Captain Singh would never-”

And then she’s drawing him in with a fist curled in his sweater and kissing him. He responds instinctively; he leans down to hold his weight with one hand on the desk while the other curls around her hip. She’s an amazing kisser - of course she is. That smart mouth is finally put to its best use, and she lets out a gratifying sigh against his lips as her hands twist in her hair.

He steps closer, inserting himself into her space. It’s gentle at first. He’s happy to keep it that way - maybe he should ask her out to dinner. Or the movies? Or to a church, they could just get married right away now please, he’s not fussy.

But then she tugs him impossibly closer and her lips are hot and her tongue curls into his mouth like it always belonged there. He groans and his hand on her hip travels of its own accord to the small of her back. His long fingers just peek along the hem of her sweater - she runs one slender hand down his neck, eliciting goosebumps, and he takes that as permission to slide a hand underneath woolen fabric to find warm skin.

She lets out a muffled moan and her nails scratch his skin. She breaks away and she’s breathing just as heavily as he is. She reaches blindly beside them - he has no idea what she’s going for until there’s a click and dim,warm light from his lamp illuminates the space.

“Atmospheric,” he comments. His shorted-out brain is currently up to one-word answers only.

She lets out a small exhale of a laugh. “I want to see you.”

And that just- is a lot. Barry moves fast, faster than he has before, to reach and grab the backs of her thighs. He lifts, and god bless her, she gets with the programme quickly as they work together to lift her onto the bench. Pens and papers scatter but he can’t care as he slams his lips back to hers. It’s faster, hotter and needier than before, and her legs spread wide to accommodate him as he presses closer and closer to her.

This time her own fingers find their way underneath his jumper, her nails scraping along his spine in the most delicious way. He kisses along her jaw and down to her neck, sucking a hot brand into his skin and revelling in the heady gasp it provokes from her. Her hands move up his back, no doubt leaving marks of their own, and he moves back to kiss her. She’s pulling him closer, pulling him down as she begins to recline on the bench, and-

They jump apart at the sound of a smash downstairs. Barry is nearly flat on top of Iris, her hair fanned out around her head and her lipstick smeared.

Raucous laughter follows the smash, and they let out a small, similar sound of relief. Barry abruptly remembers himself, and he pushes back to standing. Iris sits up with him. He watches the movement as her thumb reaches up to wipe at the corner of her mouth, where her lipstick has mussed the most.

She watches him watching her, and then breaks out into that wonderful grin. “Don’t worry, you look just as rumpled.”

He blusters for a moment, “You don’t look-” but then she’s pulling him back to her so she can wipe her red lipstick off his own lips. She then combs her fingers through his hair, which is admittedly probably dishevelled by this point, and he closes his eyes against his will at the sensation.

She lets out a breathy laugh. “We should probably go downstairs.”

“Yeah,” he says. He wants to ask, will he see her again? Can he, please, see her again? But she’s moving, standing up and patting down her hair. He can’t help but watch the movement of her walking away, remembering what it felt like to hold those thighs and have those hands on him.

She pivots at the door. “Come on,” she says, and it’s fonder than he would be expecting. “We have a party to go back to.”

He pulls a face. “Must we?”

She smiles. And then, as she turns from him to walk back downstairs, she adds, “We won’t be too late. After all, you have an important interview tomorrow, don’t you?” And she’s gone.

Barry frowns. How does she know about his interview? He didn’t tell her, did he? He remembers, again, in that moment, that she knew his name before he told her.

He quickly closes up his office. He has questions that need to be answered, like, ten minutes ago. He locks the door and stalks downstairs as quickly as politeness will allow. Luckily, he doesn’t have to search far for her; she stands at the entrance to the bullpen, turned away from him as she talks to DA Cecile Horton. He walks up close to Iris, announcing himself with just a father-touch at the small of her back with his hand before stepping modestly away.

He plans to join the conversation as subtly as possible, but Cecile’s eyes widen immediately upon seeing him. He nervously reaches to pat at his hair - surely Iris wouldn’t have let him leave if he looked like an idiot?

But she just points above them. “Mistletoe!” She exclaims excitedly, even loudly enough to attract the attention of some nearby people. Barry feels his cheeks go hot.

“Uh-” he starts, turning to Iris to see her already looking up at him.

His first instinct is to back away, making an excuse about not believing in mistletoe, or having to take a call outside. But more and more people are starting to look their way, and when he really looks at Iris, he thinks her expression might be a bit hopeful. He realises that so far, she’s been the instigator. He realises that if it were up to him from the start, he’d probably be morosely standing in the corner right now, making awkward conversation every now and then.

He makes his decision. He curls one hand softly to cup her jaw, and leans down to kiss her. He tries to be firm and gentle, tries to let her know how much he’d like to see her outside these station walls. She sighs against his lips, and her own hand reaches up to place itself on his where it rests on her cheek. He thinks she understands everything he’s been trying to say; maybe for the entire night.

He pulls away and she smiles.

Then there’s a deep, pointed cough. He turns quickly to see Cecile now joined by her new boyfriend, Detective Joe West. Who, for some reason, looks like thunder.

“Hi, Joe,” Barry greets, a little confused. Cecile seems to be hiding an impish grin behind her hand. “Uh-”

Joe’s voice is dangerous. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”

Barry pales. Now they stand together, the resemblance is uncanny. And there’s no way the esteemed detective didn’t just catch him macking on with his daughter. He’s dead. He’s going to die in his place of work, which is certainly the worst way to go.

Iris only laughs, like she hasn’t basically put an APB on him.. “Don’t be mean, Dad.” She casts a sly look at Barry. “After all, I still have to interview him for his profile in the paper tomorrow.”

This woman is trying to kill him.

And he can’t find a single bone in his body that objects.

He gulps. “You’re Ms. West.”

“Pleased to meet you.” She sidles closer to him and wraps one arm around his back. He can’t help the soft smile on his face as he looks down at her, already forgiven. “I was thinking that we should definitely have the interview in your office, tomorrow, to really get a feel for your character.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

She bites her bottom lip. “What can I say?” She whispers as Cecile drags Joe away to the buffet table. “Your sweater reindeers got me thinking.”

Early Decorating

Shot drabble about how Jason feels about early Christmas decorating!


Jason walked into the Bruce’s study, looking for his girlfriend. Instead of Y/N he found Dick standing on the very top of a ladder, leaning forward precariously and hanging up multi-colored lightly.

“Dick, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m putting up Christmas lights, Jay! What does it look like I’m doing?”

“How are you going to decorate the whole manor?”

“I have help this year!!” Dick leaned too far on the ladder and Jason had to grab onto it, or Dick would have fallen, “Y/N!! Did you find the extension cord?”

“Fuck, you managed to con my girlfriend into helping you?”

“He didn’t have to con anyone babe, I offered to help” you looks up at Dick, “I have Damian up in the attic looking for it, and Tim went down to the Cave to see if he could find one”

“Is everyone but me helping put up Christmas decorations?!”

You walk over and press a kiss to Jason’s cheek, “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Why are you putting up Christmas decorations so early anyway? Aren’t you guys forgetting a holiday?”

“What do you mean?” Dick shouts, making the ladder wobble again

“Um, Thanksgiving hasn’t even passed yet and you are already getting ready for Christmas!! There is almost two months left!”

“The Manor is quite large, Todd. We either start now or we may not finish by the time December arrives” Damian said. He had found an extension cord. He plugged the lights in and immediately the room was washed in twinkling multicolored lights. “I must admit, Grayson, You were right, the colors are mesmerizing”

You chuckle, “You did good Dick! Now we just have to decorate the foyer and kitchen and we will be done!”

Jason just threw his hands up, “It’s fucking November!!!! I’m not ready for this shit yet!!” He storm out of the room

You and Dick look at each other, “You were right, Dickie. He totally lost his shit! I didn’t know he could be so passionate about early decorating! “

“Of fucking course I am!! It is too goddamn early for fucking Christmas carols!!!!”