12 Works by dilemmaed
Listing Works
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sit on the couch and think about (how living's just a promise that I made) by dilemmaed
Fandoms: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
28 Feb 2025
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Jean sucked in a low breath, fighting against the twitch of his fingers and Jeremy’s grip. He wanted to look away from Jeremy. It was all too much. He felt exposed and this was too close to something dangerous, something he couldn’t have but desperately wanted. Not with the memory of Grayson’s teeth fresh in his mind. But something inside of him couldn’t dare turn away from the man who saw right to the very truth of Jean Moreau and didn’t flinch.
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In which Jean wakes from a nightmare and Jeremy is there to hold him.
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right where you left me (i stayed there) by dilemmaed
Fandoms: Green Creek Series - T.J. Klune
13 Feb 2023
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Robbie would be fine.
He would soon be here too, smelling of home and pack and Kelly.
He would pull Kelly into his arms, pressing his nose and then his lips into Kelly’s neck, at the juncture of his neck and shoulder where he bore the mark in the shape of Robbie’s mouth, the physical evidence of their devotion to one another.
Robbie would be here, and everything would be alright again.
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The thirteen months that Robbie was missing from Kelly's POV
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Despite everything—despite how wrong it was—Remus wanted nothing more than to fold himself in Sirius' arms, for the man he loved to tell him that everything was going to be alright the way he had so many times before.
Because, though he was the source of Remus' suffering, of James and Lily’s demise, he couldn’t help but love Sirius. It was something that was painful to admit, something that he knew he might never be able to say aloud, something that made him feel gross and shameful.
But the simple fact was this: Remus still loved Sirius because he didn’t know how not to love him, how not to miss him, no matter how much his insides riled against it.
Because he did miss him. Deeply.For many years, there would not be a night that he didn’t dream of Sirius, that he didn’t reach out blindly in the bed they once shared in search of a familiar warmth, that he did not look up at the night sky and search for its brightest star. Nor a full moon where the Wolf did not look for its companion, when it did not howl in anguish at the loss of its pack.
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Remus attempts to grapple with his grief and lingering love for Sirius in a post-Halloween 1981 world.
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“I keep my promises,” Andrew said, “if you kept yours, we wouldn’t be having this little problem.”
For a moment, the coach was silent and Neil thought that Andrew might let go.
Then, “h-he said he was fine to play.”
Andrew barked out an incredulous laugh, “and you believed him?”
The coach gaped as Andrew’s hand tightened in his shirt. Neil could hear Andrew’s sick smile in the tone of his voice, reminding him too much of the time Andrew had spent on anti-psychotics, of Andrew’s thin laughter and his manic grin, “then you’re an even bigger idiot than he is,” he said.
Series
- Part 1 of Andreil One Shots
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One-thousand nine-hundred and eighty-six days after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco finds himself at a worn kitchen table of an Order safe house in Scotland, gripping a tumbler of firewhiskey in his white knuckles. It was a regular occurrence these days, an unfortunate one at that. He was there every time a resident was lost to the war, drinking himself into a stupor to try and forget, to rid himself of the pain that plagues his mind, his body.
That night was different though, as he found himself no longer alone in his wallowing. He wasn't sure how it happened, but something changed that night between him and Hermione Granger. Somehow, between the heavy stench of alcohol and the perfume of sugar milk, something was born.
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In her softest voice, Hermione said, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Malfoy’s head snapped up to look at her, his cheeks tinted the slightest shade of pink against his porcelain hue. He retracted his hand from where it had lain on her dress, fisting it in his lap, as if he were trying to capture the feeling of the fabric against his skin.
Hermione’s heart felt heavy in her chest, even heavier than it had been when she’d first sunk into the alcove. She was disgusted at herself, at her lack of disgust for the boy sitting next to her. His hair, which had earlier been styled so carefully like the prat he was, was now hanging in his eyes, the fringe tickling her cheek. She fought off a shudder at the feeling.
“It means that,” he whispered, so quietly that, if not for their proximity, she might not have caught his next words, “for tonight, Granger, I think you are extraordinary.”
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Something by dilemmaed
Fandoms: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare
13 Jul 2020
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Summary
[SPOILERS FOR CHAIN OF GOLD]
He couldn’t stop seeing it.
The way Thomas’s golden pallor had gone grey, the way his kind eyes had flashed with betrayal, the way his fists had clenched, his jaw had jumped. Gentle Thomas, who had once been so small, so sickly, had become every bit the predator his stature suggested him to be.
He couldn’t stop hearing the growl of the other man’s voice as he’d spoke to Alastair, his eyes swirling with rage.
“You are not who I thought you were.”
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Seven weeks after the events of James and Cordelia's engagement party, Alastair finds himself alone in a room with Thomas for the first time since they worked on the demon poison antidote together.
Alastair yearns for a way to make things right, to atone for his sins.
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Neil was fully aware that he was now the closest thing Andrew had to family, to what Cass might have been for him if things had turned out differently. He also knew that Andrew would never admit to that fact, could barely allow himself to acknowledge that Neil was a permanent fixture in his life, that he wasn’t a pipe dream, that he had no intention of leaving, that he was done running.
It scared Neil too, probably just as much as it scared Andrew. Neil had expected to be dead by last May, but he was here. He was broken and scarred and burned, but he was here; he was alive and he had Andrew: his trust, his kisses, his promises. The least he could do was be here, this immovable force in Andrew’s life, be the same thing that he was to Neil.
Series
- Part 2 of Andreil One Shots
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This was all he ever wanted. To be standing here, to be playing Exy, to have Andrew at his back, Kevin at his side. It had almost killed him to be here, to have accomplished this much, but Neil wanted more.
He wanted to win tonight, wanted it so badly he could taste it.
No matter how they did tonight, Neil would end up on a podium and would feel the weight of a medal around his neck, silver or gold. But now that he was here, now that the seconds were counting down, now that Kevin had tied a game they’d been trailing for most of the second half, Neil craved for gold. He needed it like he needed air, like he needed Exy.
Series
- Part 6 of Andreil One Shots
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Andrew fixed him with an impatient glare, “I hate you.”
“I know,” Neil said, sounding almost breathless. “You tell me so often it's starting to sound like a compliment.”
“Want to test it?” Andrew queried, tightening his grip on Neil’s chin. “I’ll gladly push you off if you’re not careful. Don’t tempt me, Josten.”
“I’ll drag you down with me. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. You don’t scare me, Andrew.” Neil said, fighting off a shiver as the heat of Andrew’s breath brushed against his neck.
“Junkie,” He said again, the word sounded like a curse.
Series
- Part 5 of Andreil One Shots
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“I told you always,” Neil said, blinking a few times in rapid succession, his words coming slow in an obvious attempt not to tangle them.
“And I told you to stop it,” Andrew replied sharply.
“I won’t,” Neil said, with a shrug of one shoulder, wincing still. “I’m stupid, remember?”
“Doubtlessly so,” Andrew quipped.
Neil let his head fall to the pillow, turning it so that he was looking at Andrew. His blue eyes flicked about the other man’s face, either studying him, or trying to read his expression, Andrew couldn’t tell. All he knew was that Neil’s gaze burned, felt like a flame licking too close to his skin, dangerous and unyielding.
Series
- Part 4 of Andreil One Shots
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"What did he say, Andrew?” Neil asked, his voice a whisper into the silence surrounding them. “Was it about me?”
“Always the narcissist, Josten.” A hint of amusement in Andrew’s low voice.
Neil caught himself, almost shaking his head, but scared that any sudden movement might cause Andrew to leave and all Neil wanted was to keep him close, to keep his fingers touching, so he elected not to move a muscle. “You know what I mean, asshole.” Neil said, but his voice had no edge to it.
Andrew studied Neil’s face, his eyes dancing from scar to freckle to lips to bright blue eyes. “It doesn’t fucking matter. He won’t say it again.”
Series
- Part 3 of Andreil One Shots