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mirandasidefics · 3 months

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But Home is Nowhere-Part 3

Lucien X Plus Size! Reader, Azriel X Plus Size! Reader.

Summary: Nesta confronts Rhysand and Azriel pays a visit to the Moonstone Palace.

A/N: Hopefully the characters aren't too OOC for this one. I'm sorry this chapter is so short! Work got a bit busy so free time for writing was reduced. But I still wanted to keep my schedule of every other week. Just means there will be more chapters in the long run. This is Azriel's POV. The story will mainly be from Reader, Lucien, and Azriel's POV moving forward.

Warnings: Talk of nightmares, mentions of blood and violence.

Part 2

Azriel swiftly made his way to Rhysand’s office in the House of Wind for a debriefing with Cassian, Nesta, and Bryce after their return to Prythian. The group had been successful in their rescue efforts and the trio returned with Bryce’s mate and brother in tow. His shadows had told him that the two new arrivals had been beaten and bloody with healers rushing to the northern residential wing of the Moonstone Palace. He knew he should have accompanied them on their trip, especially after hearing of their losses of at least two spies as the group made their way out. If he had gone with them then he certainly wouldn’t have been forced to subject you to – He stopped short at the scene before him, at the absolute fury that radiated off the eldest Archeron sister. His shadows and siphons immediately responded to the small thrum of power emanating off of her. He smized he finally had his answer regarding the amount of power the cauldron determined she was worthy to keep after helping Feyre deliver Nyx. Nesta stood before his brother’s desk, her hands balled into fists at her sides, chest heaving. Rhysand sat in his high back chair, elbows resting against the dark wood of the desk. Only the swirling rage in his eyes giving any indication of his emotions. A large stack of books laid sprawled on the floor. Loose papers fluttered their way back down. A well of black ink had been topped over, its contents staining the already dark mahogany and the High Lord’s face. Bryce sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk, picking at her nails. Her eyes darting between the fighting in-laws.

“I don’t know what more you want me to say Nesta,” Rhys rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I have apologized to the woman and have provided for her. Lucien is keeping her company and assisting her in finding a way back to her home, but she will remain in the eastern wing for the time being.” Fuck. So, he hadn’t removed the letter Lucien left in the House before either Nesta or Cassian read it. Not that Azriel wanted to hide (Y/N)’s existence from the pair, he just wanted to explain that he agreed with the male. The human girl was of no threat, despite her highly unexpected and unsettling arrival. Given Nesta’s current disposition it appeared that she had already gone to the Moonstone Palace as Lucien requested.

“You have her sealed inside the place just like that Spring Court bastard did to Feyre,” Nesta spat, the information hitting Azriel square in the chest. The image of (Y/N)’s terror filled (e/c) eyes flashed through his mind. Had his word not been enough to convince his brother of her innocence? Yes, she was no longer swathed in the darkness, the darkness that he was solely responsible for, but to still be a prisoner… He hadn’t wanted that for her. He wanted her to feel safe. She deserved at least that much, if not more. Azriel’s attention snapped back to the conversation before him.

“She’s just a girl Rhys,” Cassian spoke up from his position between his mate and the desk. “Nes and I spent the whole day with her. She-”

“You have dedicated an entire part of your court to the protection of traumatized females,” Nesta snarled, “You have created laws to ensure those that cause harm to innocents pay for their actions. Yet you violate everything that you’ve built by having her tortured and locked away for the past month! What does she have to do to convince you that she is not a threat?” Rhysand let out a breath, despite his efforts to exude a sense of calm, it was clear that the male was exhausted.

“I honestly don’t know at this point,” The admission was one that Azriel didn’t expect, “But my decision stands.” Nesta clicked her tongue, arms crossing as she finally removed her gaze from the High Lord.

“I will not be keeping this from my sister,” Nesta seethed. Her steel infused eyes landed on Azriel and he tried not balk from the fury now directed at him. Her gait was steady as she approached, arms crossing over her chest. Despite him being a good 5 inches taller than her, Nesta managed to look down her nose at him.

“Not keep what from me?” The entire room went still as Feyre stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and brows furrowed in annoyance. Her stance mirrored her sister’s, highlighting their similarities all the more. Azriel shifted in spot next to the door, glancing at his brother who slow stood up from his desk. The tension in the air thickened as Feyre looked to each individual in the room.

“What are you keeping from me now Rhysand?” Her glare at her mate would have had any other male cowering. This was perhaps the most frightening Feyre had ever appeared to Azriel outside of that battle field nearly 3 years ago.

“We will discuss the events in Midgard later. If you all will excuse us,” Rhysand swallowed, “I have something to discuss with my High Lady.”

*********************************************************************

Azriel struggled to keep his shadows in check as they buzzed around the closed doors that did little to muffle the shouting match between the rulers of the Night Court. While the group had been dismissed, Azriel still had questions for his brother. He supposed those questions would have to wait, provided the Night Court still had a High Lord in the morning. He was grateful for the distraction when Bryce asked him to return her to the Moonstone Palace to be with her mate. It also gave him a reason to check in on (Y/N). Something he hadn’t been able to do since the day he and Lucien walked her out of the catacombs. He knew that keeping his distance would be best for her, but he couldn’t help the worry that invaded him on a nightly basis. That week had not been kind to either of them. It had been a long time since he experienced nightmares as a result of his…duties as spymaster. A long time since the tang of a person’s fear embedded itself in his memory. Maybe actually seeing her in a new setting would help ease his conscious.

He winnowed Bryce directly into the suite that had been set up for her and her family. A fire roared in the large black onyx hearth of the large sitting area. The set of doors to each of the two bedrooms were wide open, allowing the healers to run back and forth between them. It appeared they were in the process of packing up their things, when one approached him.

“Both males are asleep,” the elder female whispered, “The mate is in that room. He’ll need the most care for the next few weeks as his wings begin to grow back. The other might need to have healers from the Dawn Court take a better look at him, the High Lord too. There’s a heavy barrier around his mind.” He nodded and relayed the message to Bryce.

“Thank you,” The red-head squeezed his shoulder before dipping into the room on the left. Azriel awkwardly stood in the hallow space. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had never spent any significant amount of time in the Moonstone Palace and the morning was a long way off. He had a general idea of where the unoccupied spare rooms were, but he wasn’t tired. He debated on making his way to the gardens when a wailing scream ripped through the halls. The sound caused Azriel’s heart to drop. The elder healer scurried over to the doorway of the room on the right, calling out to whomever was inside.

“Wren, the tonic, is it ready for her?” Her. (Y/N) had made that sound. Nausea whirled in his stomach. A young male appeared in the doorway with two medium sized cups in his hands.

“I’ll take it,” Azriel’s shaky voice passed over his lips before he could stop himself.

“Its for the human girl,” Wren gathered a funnel and metal flask from a corner table in the main sitting room. Slowly he poured the contents of each cup into a metal flask. “The male that’s with her says she suffers from nightmares. He asked us to mix this for her. It’s a concentrated brew, so it must be diluted with water or tea, preferably a sweetened tea as its quite bitter. No more than an ounce before bed.” The male grabbed a second smaller cup and placed it into Azriel’s covered hands. He nodded in understanding, his shadows already racing to find her. Another scream echoed, the terror laced within latching onto his bones. He had caused these nightmares. He knew he would never be able to atone for the trauma that she would now carry with her. Something in his chest snagged as yet another cry ricocheted through the palace. His shadows returned and swirled, urging him out of the room. A male groan came from the room Wren had exited and he quick scurried back inside.

“Hurry, before her screams wake them,” Azriel’s lips curled into a snarl at the insensitive remark as he was ushered out of the room. “They all deserve some rest Shadowsinger.” The female healer amended, the entrance door to the suite clicking shut behind him. He made his way as quickly as he could to her room. His shadows frantic as muffled sobs could be heard bouncing off the stone walls of the eastern wing. He didn’t even bother to knock on the door before entering the bedroom. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight.

The bed was disheveled, the cream duvet pushed to the ground alongside several throw pillows in various shades of blue. Lucien was sat in the center of the bed, (Y/N) cradled in his lap. Azriel watched on as Lucien rocked her back and forth, shushing her and rubbing her bare back. The green top, clearly torn and discarded on the floor, was stained dark with sweat and…blood. Sobs and muffled apologies tumbled from her lips and into the golden skin of Lucien’s neck. Her hair, slickened with tears, plastered itself to her forehead. Her trembling hands held a vice like grip, her knuckles white from the force of her hold on him. The tips of her fingernails were stained red. Azriel’s eyes roamed over her for any signs of injuries. He wasn’t able to assess her front as she pressed against the male comforting her. It took him second to realize that the Autumn male’s shirt was also missing, and something ugly curled its way through Azriel’s thoughts. That was until he saw the upturned couch, and what was clearly spare blankets and pillows pinned underneath. Likely overturned in Lucien’s haste to get to (Y/N). It took him another second to realize that the room was sweltering. Every light in the room was on and the fire in the fireplace was twice the size it should have been, leaving no space for his shadows.

“Are you just going to lurk there?” The female started at Lucien’s words, letting out a whimper and he immediately consoled her. The male’s russet eye landed on Azriel, who cautiously approached the bed. Before he could get too close, the red-head held up his hand in warning. Close enough.

“(Y/N),” Lucien whispered against her cheek, the action far too intimate for Azriel’s liking, “I asked the healers to make you another sleeping draft. Go draw yourself a bath, and I’ll get the tonic and bed prepared for you.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes as she pulled back slightly. She nodded in understanding, and her grip on him lessened. Azriel felt like an intruder as he watched her separate herself from Lucien, catching sight of the outline of her full breast underneath her arm before she fully faced away from him. The woman seemed to become aware of her bare chest and reached for a pillow to cover herself with. Azriel noted that Lucien’s eyes never strayed down wards and remained fixed on the headboard behind her. A better male that he was. Once she was out of the sight, Lucien rose from the bed and approached Azriel.

“How is she?” Azriel blurted. He wasn’t a fool. He could clearly see she wasn’t doing well, but the question fell from him nonetheless. He continued to stare at the spot she previously occupied on the bed. Lucien studied him, the golden eye whirring and zeroing in on whatever information he was trying to read in Azriel’s expression. The spymaster’s training set in and his features hardened. The emissary did the same. His shadows spluttered at the doorway as he took a step into the room.

“How is-”

“I heard you,” Lucien let out a heavy breath and carded his lean fingers along his scalp. “You want to know the extent of your handiwork? This is what I have come to know of her through my comforting her every night since arriving here. I have become more familiar with the sound of her screams than her laugh. I smell the fear that leeches out of her every pore. So potent and thick that even my own instincts have me searching the room to make sure there is no one here to harm her. Her body thrashes violently-desperately-to break the grip the nightmares have on her own mind. There are bruises on her ankles that won’t heal because she kicks against the bed posts everything night.” Azriel felt the color slowly drain from his face.

“She doesn’t always wake from the nightmares right away either. Tonight, was one of those nights. She was crying, pleading and begging whatever was haunting her to stop. She was clawing on her own throat and chest trying to pry what I can only assume were memories of your shadows away. You ask how she is doing? She is not well, and she is terrified of you Azriel.” A flame burned within his red iris despite the calm manner in which he spoke, and Azriel felt his body recoil in shame. He didn’t want to know any more. He knew this was his fault and didn’t need to be reminded.

“You want to help her?” Azriel nodded simply, not daring to speak after hearing Lucien’s tone laced with a bitterness he hadn’t heard in years. “She needs and deserves to be let out of here. Allowed to live far enough away from the Hewn City to know that she won’t be sent back down to that cell. But for now, she needs a dreamless sleep.” The Autumn male approached him slowly, his hand held out expectantly. Azriel handed over the flask and small cup.

“Mix an ounce of this with tea or water,” His own voice was barely above a whisper as Lucien continued to hold his stare. Shame and guilt clung to him. Without another word, Azriel turned on his heel and left the room, unable to bare witness to your suffering any longer.

Part 4

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitc0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #lucien x reader #plus size reader #BHINfic #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x plus size reader #azriel x plus size reader

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heissobabygirl · 1 year

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Graves X Male!Top!Shadow!Reader

A/N: hey guys, noticed a lack of male reader Graves fanfiction so I'm here to (hopefully) kinda fill that void! Hope you all like it. This took me like a week but I love the song it's based around, I def recommend listening to it during the read if you haven't already! This was only read by my sister and she told me I HAD to publish it, so I am. Sorry if there are mistakes. Feel free to request if you like my writing. I'm only writing COD at the moment and I only write male reader (sorry ladies ;-;). Enjoy!!

The following contains ANGST and HORNY

DO NOT READ IF YOU DONT LIKE THOSE THINGS

Okay byyyye :)

Song to play while reading: Granite by Sleep Token

-------

Sulfur on your breath

Granite in my chest

You will never have to talk about it

You never want to talk about it

You tried justifying your actions in your head as you heaved the scolding hot tank lid up.

"Graves!" You called, smoke immediately filling your senses due to the proximity of the fire. It burned your nose and esophagus, causing your throat to constrict. "Phillip!" You can't help but go into a coughing fit. The cackles of embers ignited by the explosion seemingly mocking you. Taunting you for saving the man who created this mess for himself. Why were you bailing him out again?

Squinting your eyes and taking a deep breath of oxygen you dive into the opening. You fumble blindly through the ocean of smoke, trying to feel any material other than the metal interior of the tank.

Your hand brushes against what feels like the nylon threads of a tactical vest. Looping your fingers through the straps you pull with every muscle your body can spare.

Your body aches, the lack of oxygen dizzying your mind. You step to the top of the tank, heaving the body up with the force of everything you had left: adrenaline and spite. You pick the man up, hoping down, feet once again finding cement. You drag him a good distance away from the burning war machine, slumping him gently on the ground.

"Commander." Your voice is hoarse from coughing, "Commander don't you fucking give up on me." You straddle him, his blonde hair dark from soot and ash. It's smeared across his face, bonding with beads of sweat against his skin.

Your fingers tread down the path of his vest, finding the velcro belt to rip it off of him. Throwing it to the side, his neck is also covered in the black soot, almost like it was a growing infection. Drops of midnight sweat dripping down the dips of his muscles. Ripping off a glove with your teeth, you check his pulse. It's fading fast, the thrum of his heart dying as his chest fills less and less with each inhale. You know what you have to do.

You place his hands on his chest, locking them in place. Returning to his side you tilt his head up, pinching his nose to close it off. You place your hands over his, the sweat hanging to your skin as the warmth of his radiates through your palms.

–

Fury too damn late

Reason dislocated

Soon you'll never have to talk about it

You never want to talk about it

Your voices ring with animosity throughout Grave's home office.

"Don't tell me how to do my Goddamn job, Soldier!" His voice was stern, his gaze going from a soft expression to the deadly and stormy as he grew more agitated.

"Soldier? Really? Were not on the fucking field, Phillip!" You snark back, shooting him a vehement glare of your own. He just stares you down, his gaze burning into your own as you two clash.

"Oh, right! How could I be so stupid. You, Phillip Graves, could NEVER be in a meaningful relationship! All you can do is keep people at arm's length with some fake authority you hold over them! Get real Phillip! If you don't cut this shit out you're gonna die alone!" You couldn't gauge his reaction, it looked the same as before.

"And you don't care…do you?" Your voice is softer this time. The words float through the air tantalizingly, striking him in the chest. The walls he built were coming down in moments, but he'd never let you know. Your brows furrowed, knitting up at the inside corners. "You don't care about me, you care about this stupid fucking job. You care about getting the mission done, pleasing people that don't even matter-" your words shrivel up and die on your tongue, just like your spirit.

You can feel tears stinging at your lash line. Rage brews in the pits of your guts, teeth grinding together to curb your urge to deck your Commander in the face. You do the only things you can, you turn to leave.

"Hey-" steps thud throughout the room, starting slowly and growing closer together the closer your hand gets to the door knob. A hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around to look the blonde in the face. "You can say whatever the hell you want about me. But don't you dare say I don't care about you."

–

I was more than just a body in your passenger seat

You were more than just somebody I was destined to meet

I see you go half blind when you're looking at me

But I am

The music played softly through the car, drifting through the space that was nearly extinct between the both of you. Your hands on his hips, squeezing and rubbing your thumb in circles over the fabric.

The stubble of his facial hair rubs against your face, the scratch a ticklish but good feeling. His hands are around your neck, running his greedy hands wherever you may allow him.

You reach around to grip his ass, the flesh soft as he groans into your lip lock. Your hands snake back around, unbuckling his belt, running it through the loops and discarding it on the floor of your car. Your fingers make quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning them and pooling them at his thighs.

Your lips move to his neck, biting the soft skin as he jerks against you. You hold his hips still with your strong grip, kneading the flesh of hips. He mewls, the Phillip Graves mewls. "Fuuuuck." He drolls, his tone raspy.

"Can't believe you're this worked up already, Phil." He screws his eyes shut, tipping his head back.

"Shut up-" He stumbles over the words he's searching for. "You should just be happy you're getting this chance, Lutentiant." His hands grip your shoulder for stability, giving you a tight squeeze.

You hum, bringing your lips close to his ear speaking low, "Oh I'm so lucky. Fucking my Commander in my car because he couldn't wait to get home to whore himself out." You watch his throat Bob, Adam's apple moving with the action. The words coarse through him, straight to his dick. It throbs at your voice, seemingly knowing who it belongs to.

–

Between the second hand smoke and the glass on the street

You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave

You say you want me but you know

I'm not what you need

But I am

“You can say whatever the hell you want about me, but don’t you dare say I don’t care about you.” His eyes bore into your’s, creating a moment of silence that’s quickly shattered by you.

“Then maybe you should fucking act like it, Phillip.” The use of his first name makes him cringe. He hasn’t heard it from your lips in so long he forgot it was his. He spent so long, more time than you knew, clinging to every word you said. Committing your features to memory so if you ever left him he would have the lines of your skin mapped out so you could crawl inside his skull and be safe there.

Graves was no fool, he knew his line of work was dangerous, he knew he was walking on cracking ice everytime he stepped outside. With one wrong move, one missed sign, he would fall in and drown. A part of him always hoped you would save him, put an end to his reckless ways. That you pull him up, back onto a more sturdy section of the ice and he could steal the oxygen from your lungs that you would always so happily and eagerly give. You loved him after all.

But now, he could see the adoration you always swirling in your eyes when he was within your vicinity was dead and gone. Replaced by a dull and dreary cacophony of resentment and pain. He was smothering you, he had taken too much. There was nothing he could do to save you.

Even if he poured everything he had into you, filling you up with everything he had so greedily taken you were too broken to store it anywhere. Not your eyes, not your hands, not your heart.

–

When you sit there acting like you know me

Acting like you only brought me here to get below me

Nevermind the death threats parting at the door

We’d rather be six feet under than be lonely

The words coarse through him, straight to his dick. It throbs at your voice, seemingly knowing who it belongs to. He closes his eyes, screwing them shut. Hips rutting and stuttering against you to get any kind of friction.

“Stop teasing.” His tone waivers, brinking on the edge of neediness and desperation still. Your hands trace his figure, snaking their way up to his hair. You can feel it between your fingers, the strands dancing across your skin as you give a harsh yank. He grunts, his head tipping back with the pull of his hair. Your lips clash with his neck again, being gentle with your mouth work as you trail to his collar bones.

Your fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, the fabric lying dead as you discard it. His upper half is vulnerable for your eyes to devour; and devour your eyes do. Your gaze rakes over him, sending chills throughout his veins, his heart skipping for just a moment enough to be noticed.

“Thought you loved my teasing though. I mean, obviously you do. Look at this.” You palm his erection, the friction sending waves of heat through his nerves. It crashes through him with the force of the sun, clouding his headspace. The only visage he can conceive is of you. “Look at you.” Your voice is hushed, soft even.

“All worked up over a single touch? Remember to breathe, baby.” You chuckle.

–

If you had a problem, then you should’ve told me

Before you started getting all aggressive and controlling

You only drink the water

When you think it’s holy

Even if he poured everything he had into you, filling you up with everything he had so greedily taken; you were too broken to store it anywhere. Not your eyes, not your hands, not your heart. They had no room for him anymore.

“I’m leaving.” You break his thoughts, shattering them into a million pieces and scattering them across your shared living space.

“You never talk to me anymore, Phillip.” That wasn’t what you were supposed to call him.

“You hull yourself up here in your office, create these walls, create a mess-” you take a breath. He takes the opportunity to speak.

“Well, hey- Let’s talk this out, okay? Nobody has to leave anywhere-” he’s negotiating. Trying to gather the shards of his thoughts, collecting them and their jagged edges that cut and pierce his skin. In all honesty, they probably pierce your’s too. They dig into your epidermis, like a parasite, embedding themselves right out of your grasp. Only able to access them if you want to rip yourself apart, and you couldn’t bear to see crimson anymore.

“No Phillip.” You shut him down. “I’m tired of talking it out. It never works with you. Your words mean nothing to yourself and to me. You know this, I know you do.” Your voice sounds defeated and drained. The last ropes tethering you to him snapped and shredded to bits. But he would be damned if he didn't try to knot them back together, even with the fraying edges.

You couldn’t leave him, he would do anything for you to stay. He knew that, but he never revealed that to you. So how were you supposed to see his hurt, his anger, his desperation to make you stay. He would cement your feet in place if he needed to.

–

So keep an eye on the road or we will both be here forever

“All worked up over a single touch? Remember to breathe, baby.” You chuckle. Your pants had been discarded long ago, your arousal just as prevalent as his. Tucking your fingers under the hem of his boxers, you pull them down. His chest heaves as the cool night’s air hits his hard cock. Your hands find purchase on his hips once more, he throws his head back.

“Please.” He whines. “Please, I don’t care anymore, just fuck me please.” His voice breaks, the shift of his personality making you even harder.

“Of course my love. I’m so proud of you for begging for it like the good boy I know you are.” He nods, burying his face in your neck as you slowly split him open with your cock. His breathing hitches, the pace becoming erratic as you shush him. “Just breathe, baby. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Just-” His back arches as he reaches the end of your length. “Just move please.” His throat constricts as you snap your hips up, a choked moan coming from deep within him. He jolts when you hit the spot he loves the most, your name tumbling from his mouth like a mantra. It was the only thing he could remember at this point, the only thing he cared to remember.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” You pant, watching him as intently as the moment would allow. Your hand wraps around his dick, palm stimulating the tip as you move down the rest of his shaft stroking as well as you could using the precum as lube.

His hands grip tightly on your shoulders, bouncing himself with the rhythm of your thrusts. Skin making contact with skin resounding through the car’s space. His grip tightens, his nails sure to leave crescent shaped marks.

His moans are needy, guttural. “So, so good for me, love.” Red dusts his cheeks as you speak, keening at the parise you’re giving him. You can tell he’s about to come undone. The way his bounces stutter and his body jolts at the contact, he’s close.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me.” You grab his face, turning his head to look at you. The blue of his eyes meet yours, his pupils blown wide as he looks dazed. God you loved when he looked like this. “I wanna see your face when you cum, I wanna see that pretty fuckin’ face.” He nods the best he can, whining at words coming from your mouth. God he can feel you reaching so deep inside of him, scratching the itch that burns within like nobody else could. The way you snapped your hips hypnotized him, the only thing he could focus on was your voice.

He felt himself teetering on the edge, pushed to climax by a powerful thrust of your own. White spurted all over his toned stomach and you. His body shakes and convulses, your hands never leaving his hips as he slumps forward onto you. His face finds your neck again as you chase your own high, unintentionally over stimulating his senses. His legs shake something fierce as you cum inside him, the warmth spreading through his entire being.

Your arms wrap around him, bringing him as close as humanly possible. Smoothing your hands down his back as he twitches and pants.

"You did so well baby. So well."

–

I was more than just a body in your passenger seat

You were more than just somebody I was destined to meet

I see you go half blind when you're looking at me

But I am

You place your hands over his, the sweat hanging to your skin as the warmth of his radiates through your palms. You steady your breathing, leaning down and connecting your lips. You've done this so many times before, moments that felt like life or death but this was different. This was life or death. You breathe into his mouth, his chest rising with oxygen from your own lungs.

Your hands move to his chest, using your weight to press down intermittently but harshly. Afterall, good CPR cracks the ribs. That's just what you did, the sickening crunch fills your ears as you keep administering CPR. After thirty compressions, you move back down to his level. You're getting ready to fill his lungs again when he sputters a breath.

"Baby? Baby, can you hear me?" You cup his face, steading his head and neck. He groans, hand reaching up and attaching itself to your arm.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay, we're gonna get you out of here." You smack your radio, static fizzing on the other side.

"This is L.T. (L/N). Does anyone copy?" You wait for a response. "I'm in need of immediate medical aid, I have Commander Graves. I repeat, I have Commander Graves."

A moment of silence passes, and just when you're about to give up a voice answers you.

"We copy, L.T. We are inbound to your position right now. ETA 3 minutes out." You breathe a sigh of relief, the adrenaline in your body starting to disappear. Graves look at you, his hand never leaving your arm. You sit next to him, finally turning your attention to the wound on your side. The giant gash now causing a noticeable gnawing pain that radiates from the sight through your whole body.

"Fuck." You mutter, shifting your weight painfully

"You're hurt." Graves' voice rings through your head. His voice hoarse from misuse.

"Yeah, that fucker Ghost got me." You say, sucking in a breath as you apply pressure to the wound. "Atleast I think it was him based on the height. Managed to nail my side with a Shotgun blast." The wound was bigger than your hand. In the little time you've touched it blood has stained the skin, the crimson you're so familiar with the last sight you may see.

Graves is silent, studying your face as you lie next to him, your hands interlocking. You bring his knuckles up to your lips, kissing them softly. These three minutes seem to drag on for eternity. Your vision fading around the edges, you close your eyes trying to focus on your pained breathing.

"Hey," Graves finally speaks.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Between the second hand smoke and the glass on the streets

You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave

You say you want me but you know I'm not what you need

But I am

"I love you too, Graves."

#graves x male reader #graves x male #Phillip Graves #COD x male reader #Shadow!Reader #Graves x male reader angst #Graves X Male reader smut

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lanitalay · 2 months

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One Day : Chapter 6.5

based on the netflix series by the same name

a/n: honestly this has been really cathartic for me to write because in my mind, the reader is harboring so much anger that it shuts her down and i went through something similar last year where I just retreated into myself and it was a dark place to be. So of course I cried writing this. And I never really liked ACOSF but Nesta's arc has always been compelling because i hold on to anger and forgiveness does not come naturally to me. So yeah, enjoy, hopefully.

warnings: angsty, drinking, sad

word count: 800

Masterlist

Winter Solstice was alright in your opinion. Not your favorite holiday, but it wasn’t the worst day of the year. Nesta had reluctantly accepted Feyre’s invitation to the Townhouse but you told her you’d visit Bec, who had been begging you to see you for months now. You were dressed in a coat, mittens and boots and stood in front of the door of your, let's be honest, run down apartment.

You didn’t want to go out. Didn’t want to see your friends’ faces when they looked at you. So you stood by the door for a while, until it got too late to leave, by the time you’d arrive the festivities would be over.

Sighing, you threw off the coat and mittens, opting to flop down on the couch. Nesta said she’d come by when she was done with the Inner Circle. You refused to acknowledge the clawing in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss your friends, you did. But the anger you felt was all consuming. There they were, carrying on like usual and you were still there. Still in the war camps. Praying to the Mother to help you save as many lives as possible. Still stuck in your little cabin with Lenus. It was like having a bloodhound constantly chasing you, never stopping. The memories, the vivid images would come from the very back of your mind and sink their jagged teeth into your flesh.

Without looking you knew the cabinets were empty. The last bottle of wine was somewhere in the bathroom, you’d finished it while getting ready to head out.

There was a knock at the door. It was past midnight, Nesta lasted longer than you thought she would. Though, you hoped she had spoken with her sisters. You get up “finally, let's go to Jax’s, I’m out of booze.” You grab her hand and walk with her out of the building. “How was it?”

“Fine, how was Bec’s”

“Didn’t go.”

“Why?”

“Just couldn’t.” Once at the club you sat down in your usual booth. “The band they have tonight is good.” Music filled the space and you were immediately transported to all the nights spent at Rita’s. “I’ll go get us drinks.”

When you returned to the booth you found that Nesta had taken to the dance floor so you joined her. The club was not packed as usual so you two could dance freely without worrying about bumping into strangers. It was always freeing. Dancing with Nesta, the tingle on your skin from the liquor, multicolor faelights lighting up the space and the music thumping in your chest. Cold hands grabbed at your waist and pulled you back into a male body. You complied and danced against him, reveling in the feel of skin against skin.

The band finished its set and the male you were dancing with still held your hand. “Wanna keep the party going?” He whispered in your ear. You nodded, biting your lower lip. “Nes, we’re gonna head out.” She was standing by the bar talking with Jax and before you turned to leave she grabbed your arm. “Here,” she pulled a small box and envelope from one of her coat pockets.

“What 's this?” But she was too involved in her conversation and your companion was too eager to leave so you didn’t get your answer until you got to the apartment.

You excused yourself and went into your bedroom and immediately pulled out the little box. It was wrapped in pretty blue paper that you couldn’t appreciate at the club. Carefully, you unwrapped and opened it. There was a piece of paper folded neatly, your name scrawled on it in beautiful writing. Something soured in your throat. Taking out the paper allowed you to see what was beneath.

You set it down and read the letter, hoping for an explanation.

“Happy Winter Solstice, in. This is supposed to stay put all day, hope you like it. I miss you.”

“I’m this close to cutting my hair off” you told Azriel, exasperated because your locks kept getting in the way of you inspecting his stitches. “Don’t you have something to tie your hair with?”

“Yeah but they always slip and just cause more problems.”

Inside the box was a cobalt blue ribbon.

“I changed my mind, get out.”

“Baby don’t be like that.”

“Get out!” You forced him up from the couch and shoved him out the door, slamming it shut. Tears cascading down your cheeks the second you were alone.

“She’ll come around eventually.” Bec said as she put an arm on Azriel’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how to help her… she’s made herself a ghost.”

“I’ve known her for longer than you have, Az. She’s hurting… and it hurts to be pushed away by her. It’s like being on the dark side of the moon after a lifetime of sunshine. But she was the same when her parents died and… somehow she put herself back together.”

“There has to be something I can do.”

“Just be there when she comes back.”

#acosf #acotar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #rhysand #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #az x reader #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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countrymusiclover · 7 months

Text

19 - Time Away From Work…

Part 20

Family is More than Blood

@secretdreamlandmentality

Hey y'all, it's been a little bit but I'm here with a new Klaus chapter 😊 enjoy

Klaus’s pov - Mystic Falls

"Rae, do you really have to help Caroline on this next lead? I mean it's been so much easier with the two of us working together with the school." I begged my wife who had a bag over her shoulder about to leave the school for a few days.

She sent me a half sympathetic look having her hair up in a messy bun. "Nik, calm down. I hopefully should be back tomorrow morning. And Caroline is my friend. She wouldn’t ask for my help if she didn't really need it."

"Raelyn, come on. Please, I don't want to have to take care of all these kids by myself." Slumping my shoulders I locked onto her gaze.

She put her hands on my shoulders kissing my cheek, stepping away and vamping off somewhere, most likely in the direction of the airport. "Klaus, you have a thousand years under your belt. You have raised three daughters. You should be able to handle Henrik and the twins for a day just fine. I love you…and if anything serious happens I am just a phone call away."

"Bloody women..I love you too." I mumbled under my breath when she wasn't in front of me anymore.

I closed my eyes and signed praying that I could do this as my wife had every faith I could. “ Get a bloody grip on yourself.”

“Daddy, I think Rapenzal might be trying to eat some crayons right now.” Henrik came running down the hallway with his curls bouncing until he got up to me.

Turning around on my feet I eyed my son. “What now?”

“Charming was whining and he threw them at her. Now she’s eating them.” He said back to me.

I shook my head trying to stay calm. “ Where is your sister now?

Henrik shrugged his shoulders. “ I don’t know.” I'm starving. What's for dinner?”

“ Mommy didn’t feed you?” I asked.

“No.” Henrik mumbled. “ Could you make sushi?”

I glanced at my son. “How about Pizza?”

Henrik began to wine. “ No, I want sushi daddy.”

“ Sushi is gross.” Missy said, coming downstairs.

“ It is not.” Henrik pouted.

“ It is too.” Missy argued back.

The two started to bicker back and forth causing me to let out a growl. “ Enough!” Bloody hell, what was your mother thinking of leaving me to deal with this.”

“Then you probably don’t want to know what I just saw from Alina and Jackson’s room.”

My eyes began to widen as I heard those words escape from my daughter’s mouth. I vamped speed upstairs to Alina’s room and knocked on the door. “ Alina, open this door right now.”

Inside the room, Alina and Jackson were panicking, unsure what to do as Klaus was outside the door. They glance at one another. “Well, this is where I hit the road.” Jackson said, walking outside on the balcony and was about to jump down until Alina grabbed his arm back.

“You’re seriously going to leave me to deal with this alone.” Alina hissed.

Jackson turned to his wife. “ Baby, I would never abandon you. I just don’t want your father to rip my head off.”

Alina shook her head. “ He won’t.”

“Yes, he will.” Jackson exclaimed. “ When he learns I got you pregnant, he will snap me like a twig. I would actually like to live to see our child grow.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and in came an angry Hybrid father.

Stomping towards the young werewolf boy I shoved him into the wall behind him. “You’ve got exactly five seconds to explain why she’s pregnant, mate!”

“You….remember my mother’s deal…..to have a true marriage….and I didn’t force her into this. She said she was ready…to have a baby.” Jackson gasped through my hand wrapped around his throat.

Shifting my gaze to my middle daughter I loosened my grip slightly. “Is he telling the truth, Lina?”

Alina nodded tearfully, playing with the ends of her tea shirt. “I’m so sorry, daddy. I never meant to disappoint you.”

I stared at my daughter deeply. “You didn’t disappoint me, sweetie. This isn’t your fault.”

I turned my gaze on the Werewolf boy tightening my grip around his neck. “ It’s yours, you seduce my little girl and now you have impregnated her. I should’ve killed you sooner.”

“Daddy, please stop.” Alina cried out.

“Dad, let him go!” Missy said, watching from the door along with Henrik who was silent.

Hearing her still so innocent voice I finally released my grip from Jackson where he collapsed onto the ground gasping for breath. Dropping my hands down at my sides I grumbled vamping out of the room. “Raelyn better have a good reason for leaving me to deal with this mess!”

England - Raelyn’s pov

It felt sort of strange to be here walking around without Klaus. We haven't been here in a while since we had to go back and deal with the school. Caroline still hasn't had much luck with solving the Merge. It still hurts me to know that if I was just a little faster than none of it would be a problem for Lizzie and Josie. Caroline sent me a look from the corner of her eye. "So you really left Klaus Mikaelson in charge of our school and didn't tell him where we were really going here for?"

"He will be fine. Besides there are other adults there if he has any issues…plus I needed a break from my kids. Don't get me wrong I love them. But sometimes they're…I mean five can just be a handful." Slumping my shoulders heavily I wiped a hard across my brow.

Caroline chuckled at her friend knowing full well that life was a lot less stressful before we had our kids no matter how much we loved them so now. "Well at least Alina and Missy are older now and can help with the younger three. Ric and I were stuck on twin duty all on our own."

We strolled through the streets in silence for a little while. Peaking our heads inside the shops eyeing some cute clothes until we came to a bar we had never heard of so we walked inside and sat down at the bar island. The bartender slid me over a glass and I took almost half of it down in one sip. "You don't realize how much it helps the blood urge until you can't have it for nine months."

"Cheers to that, Rae." Caroline clicked my glass with hers until my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Drawing my phone out it was Klaus trying to video chat so I hit accept. "Hey Nik, how's things?"

“Raelyn, why in the bloody hell did you leave me to deal with all of this?” He growled.

I stared at him in disbelief at the way he was acting. “Nik, it's just for a few days. I'll be back."

He shook his head. “I don't think I'll be alive in the next few days."

I rolled my eyes at his childish behavior. “ Baby, I have every faith in you.”

“Raelyn, please I can't.” he pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

I was about to reply until Caroline grabbed the phone out of my hands before I could protest. “Look, Santay Klaus… Raelyn and I have important matters to attend to. And right now, we don't need to be distracted by your pouting."

“You are a thousand-year-old man, grow up already.” She added. "Be a man and stop complaining."

“Why, you little…” He was about to say, but Caroline ended the call before he could say anything more.

“Care.” I said, staring at her.

Caroline glared at me. “ He needs to start stepping up and stop being a crying baby. You can't be the only one raising the kids. You deserve to live a little."

"How exactly?" I asked the blonde who had finished her cocktail.

She laid down some money flipping her bouncy blonde hair getting an idea. "Let’s go shopping. We can compel the whole store to ourselves."

"Or better yet…we can use Klaus’s credit card he gave me for anything I want." Drawing out a black credit card she mirrored my smile when we left the shop strip. We had tried on almost the entire store while I was sipping some wine while I was sitting in one of the red chairs outside the dressing room.

The blonde vampire flung open the curtain showing off a short green dress with a questionable look in my direction. "So I had a thought, Rae Rae."

"Oh yeah. What's running through your head?" I sat my glass down crossing my legs over one another. "Am I going to regret even asking that?"

She grinned with a wicked smirk on her face. "Would Klaus be like Mcdreamy or Mcsteamy?"

"I'm sorry what?" I did a double take, almost not hearing her correctly. I swore that I didn't hear my friend correctly at that moment.

Caroline strides over to me plopping down in the seat next to me taking my hands in hers. "I know you heard me, Raelyn. But I'll say it again. Who would Klaus be Mcdreamy or Mcsteamy?"

"Caroline Forbes, I don't…I wouldn't compare him to either one and even if I did"

She cut me off. "There doesn't have to be reasons just tell Mr who you think he would be."

“OMG Caroline Elizabeth Forbes! We can’t possibly compare our lives to Greys.”

“Yes we can.”

“No we can’t.” I cut her off by running my fingers through my hair. “We’re vampires.”

Caroline pushes me lightly where I almost fell out of my chair. “We can do whatever we want and it’s just for fun. So I’ll go first since you seem to be a chicken about this. If I had to pick I’d say….unfortunately Damon would be McDreamy.”

“Damon Salvatore. Wow I would have never thought I’d hear you say that about him after what he put you through when you were human.” I sent her a sympathetic look remembering when she told me that he tortured her because he felt like it.

She shrugged her shoulders. “He may have been an ass at first but he does have the hair like McDreamy. So that’s why I compare him to his character.”

“Okay fine now it’s my turn. I’d say Klaus would have to be McSteamy. Mostly because Nik can’t be in the room with me and not try to get me into bed.” Laying back in my chair I covered my mouth with my hands cracking up with laughter.

Caroline laughed, throwing her head back. “We need to have more conversations like this. Now I say we get you some new clothes picked out for your McSteamy.” Getting to my feet I let her drag me into the dressing room figuring that when we got back to Mystic Falls I would probably never hear the end of how I left Klaus alone with an entire school full of kids.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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pumpkzsafeplace · 8 months

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vent- Tw: ed, depression and thoughts of s/h

(For your daddy since he answered the last one)

-----

I thought I was starting to get better but I think my ED is getting worse... my eating schedule is all messed up, I'm eating super late and I'm not eating enough..

Right now I'm in the dark, crying while I lay on the couch and I feel like crap. I'm lightheaded, have a headache, nauseous, and just feel bad in general. It's almost 9pm and I haven't eaten dinner and I honestly don't really want to...

School starts next Monday (the 28th) and I'm kinda worried. I'm going to have a set time that I have to eat lunch and as far as I know I only have lunch with one of my friends. Her name is Mercedes and I've been friends with her for 12 years. She's really nice and if she notices that I'm not eating she'll try to get me to eat even if it's just a little bit. I'm really glad that I have lunch with her but I don't know if that'll get me through a 30 minute lunch period every.. single.. day..

I've also been thinking about s/h.. I know that its not gonna make anything better and I know that I shouldn't, but I just don't know what else to do. I know it's bad and that it's gonna hurt and that I won't benefit from it. But it's just a thought that's been floating around in my mind...

On a little bit of a different topic my grandma keeps coming over. She was originally coming over because my mom asked her to help me clean the "play room" upstairs. When we were a little younger we use to play up there but now it's pretty much just a bunch of clutter and it's where we keep my baby sister's diapers. Ever since she came over to help clean that room she's been yelling at me to clean my room. Shes also been telling me that I haven't cleaned anymore since she left. Which I have cleaned since she's been there. I cleaned a decent amount and I was actually really proud of myself, but everytime I see her she reminds me that I "haven't cleaned or made any progress" and it really pisses me off. I just seen her any hour ago and I almost cried because she wouldn't stop talking about it. The more upset I got about it the funnier it seemed to her.

She's even been trying to go into my room. I don't want her up there. I have all my regression stuff in there, plus it's super messy. I don't know if you've ever seen a depression house, but it's pretty much where someone gets really bad depression to the point where they stop caring, stop cleaning, and pretty much just do the bare minimum to live. That's kind of what my room looks like. There's trash and tissues on the floor, clothes everywhere, there's stuffies on the floor. If I'm being honest, you can hardly even see the floor. It's just... not good.. at all. There's even a rat that likes to hang out in my room (I named him Remy). He didn't always live in my room. There's a lot of stray cats outside so I'm assuming he came in the house to hide from them. My mom used to see Remy downstairs, but I've only ever seen him in my bedroom. I know that I really need to clean, especially since there's a rat living up there, I just don't have any motivation. My depressions been getting worse too, and I just feel like there's no reason to do anything. I'm not enjoying life, I'm just walking through the the motions everyday. Just doing what I have to do to survive.

My grandma's coming back tomorrow and she's going to do whatever it takes to go in my room. It won't matter how much I tell her no, and that I don't want her in there.

I just really don't know what to do anymore.. I want to feel better, but I don't think that'll happen any time soon.....

-👑

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

hihi lil bug’ 🌼

💼:

Hi Little One,

I'm sorry to hear that things are getting worse. Hopefully I can offer some help?

(all information in here Pumpkin has allowed me to share, trigger warning!!)

-> 1st: The ED.

First off, I'm sorry that the ED has gotten worse. But i'm proud of you for still eating at least one meal a day, that's a great starting point. Now, we need to just eat a little bit more okay? We've got to fight against this parisite because you deserve to live in a happy and healthy body, okay?

With Pumpkin, we had small but frequent meals, even if it's just an apple cut up or a couple of crisp. As long as its freqent and filling you up-then it's a positive. I also would highly suggest therapy or a doctor/consultant to help on the medicial side.

Something that also helps Pumpkin on the dark days is tiktok. She follows a couple of accounts that suffer from ED's and publish their journey of getting better. She find that it makes it easier for her to try if someone is trying with her (if that makes sense). Mukbangs are good for her too as they help make her hungry enough to eat when her mind is yelling at her not too. Don't go overboard with food, small plates for now while your body adjusts to the portions.

-> 2nd: The SH.

Now, I am going to say this part incredibly clear.

PLEASE DO NOT DO IT.

SH isn't something to be messing around with.It is a addicitve reaction that is incredibly unsafe to do. There are other healthier options such as writing down your feelings, talking to people about them, getting them out in things like boxing or painting. I know your mind is working against you, so maybe have a look and see if you could find some help for that too.

Therapy and asking for help is nothing to be ashamed about. Pumpkin did it, she said therapy really helped her out- the only reason she stopped is due to money issues. But the lessons she did have helped her cope with trauma of things a whole lot healthier.

So please, look after yourself okay?

-> 3rd: The Depression House.

I know what a Depression House is little one, I lived in one with Pumpkin a while back when we were both struggling servely. She was having meltdowns every week and I was stressed out and couldn't be in two places at the same time.

It was rough, but we got through it (which is the main message here).

Depression is extremly difficult and hard to overcome, but it's not impossible- remember that. Every boss battle has a victory path, you just have to keep fighting and find it.

You also that it's starting to attract wildlife, that's not healthy for you love. Especially with everything else you're going through, we need to slowly change that okay?

Even if it's just cleaning a corner at a time, start small and take baby steps. Pumpkin told me to add that watching cleaning vlogs and having relaxing vlogs in the background helped her so much. It made her feel like she wasn't alone struggling and that there was still a light at the end of the tunnel.

All in all love we're extremly worried. Please ask for help from people and try and tackle this depression early before it could potentially lead to other things.

We are all here for you to support you. We all love and care for you, so please don't give up just yet.

Okay?

Much Love <3,

💼 & 🍰

#askpumpkin #👑pumpkinasks #age regression #agere community #agere blog #safe agere #sfw age regression #sfw agere #sfw little community #agere little #sfw little post #sfw little blog

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nityarawal · 2 years

Text

Airbnb- What are you talking about?

Are you referring to smear campaign from Shane Stewart of Idyllwild Realty & my ex attempting my life in a year of Covid?

All are being investigated for bribes on that!

Especially Airbnb!

Koshs mom said screamed at me after Kosh made tenants harass neighbors about dogs.

I chose not to be involved in their court shit and mind my own business.

Tenants got an RO f/ neighbor & forced choke collars after threatening to poison dogs in fires/heat wave!

Kosh also got 4 visits from cops regarding creditors on house- hes homeless & guilt trips tenants for enjoying property- and concermed for his estranged 3 yo niece!

You have alot of nerve saying I have a criminal record and smearing Me this way when opposite is true!

You slumlorded me out of airbnb into a room you knew I couldnt afford with a $200 deposit & $45 resort fee!

You're part of 40% homelessness problem trafficking women!

Koshs sister was trafficked and he kept bullying me to camp with no cell reception or gear in murder capital!

Jerry Sue Haney of PNC slandered me and tried to block me from funds too. She was busted by management lying about ATM eating cash, filing dispute and is hopefully arrested & fired now for bank fraud!

With your airbnb criminals!

How dare they Gaslight and smear me!

Is that what you lied to my host about?

I went through a divorce.

Not a crime in most states when militia nazis aren't creating domestic in-house terrorism at airbnb!

It appears you have gay management working with prince of pegging and King Henry (Shane Stewart) murder/broker/atty accomplices.

Not cool.

Please turn them in with damages.

Weird foreign staff tried to boot me with hours notice in mommy smearing oath keeper campaign.

You need to de-louse Oath Keeper fascists from airbnb.

We complained alot and will go ahead and publish all concerns since this is clearly racist discrimination.

My fabulous team of attorneys will be concerned.

You will be reported about publicly until apology, reperations come forth.

Please close & audit all Airbnb staff. Arrest cops & realtors/Dr.s/managers all involved in plethora of murders!

Gratzia!

Nitya Huntley Rawal

On Wed, Oct 26, 2022, 11:46 PM Airbnb <[email protected]> wrote:

Hi Nitya,

We’ve recently completed an evaluation of your Airbnb account, which included a consumer report generated using the Inflection SafeDecision API product offered by Inflection Risk Solutions, LLC.

That consumer report contained the following information:

- Criminal Records Match

Due to this finding, we regret to inform you that you will not be able to host or book reservations on Airbnb. If you have any upcoming reservations, they’ll be canceled for a full refund and all other parties will be notified about the cancellations. You should receive a separate email with more details.

We'll contact you if anything changes in the future. You can read more in our Help Center.

More information about this decision

Inflection SafeDecision API provided information used to make this determination. They took no part in making the decision to decline your application and cannot explain why the decision was made.

You have a right under the Fair Credit Reporting Act (FCRA) to know the information contained in your consumer report at Inflection SafeDecision API and to:

• request a free copy of your consumer report from Inflection SafeDecision API within sixty (60) days of this notice; and

• dispute any inaccurate or incomplete information contained in your consumer report directly with Inflection SafeDecision API

You can read a summary of your rights under FCRA. You can access the report used in making this determination and initiate any dispute process, as needed, on the Inflection SafeDecision API site.

You can also request a free copy of your report or initiate the dispute process by contacting Inflection SafeDecision API directly:

Inflection

Inflection Risk Solutions, LLC

P.O. Box 391403

Omaha, NE 68139

Phone: 1-855-278-7451

Email: [email protected]

Please include Application Unit ID #: 2ea3022e-61ed-4497-80f0-0c8e61aff20b in any communication so Inflection SafeDecision API can identify the consumer report. If you believe your consumer report contains errors, once you’ve worked with Inflection SafeDecision API to correct them, we will be notified and can move forward with reviewing your account reinstatement request. If you do decide to work with Inflection SafeDecision API to dispute information in your report, know that the process can take up to 90 days.

Best,

The Airbnb team

Airbnb, Inc., 888 Brannan St, San Francisco, CA 94103

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darklove9314-blog · 3 years

Text

Family : A Nessian Fanfic

Day 19 of Nessian month: Prompt: Nessian bonding with the IC.

Nesta gazed upon Cassian, Her hand firmly in his as Cassian knocked on the front doors of the river house, Feyre opened the door, a smile on her face, a hand pressed firmly to her swollen stomach before a five year old Nyx grinned at the sight of his aunt and uncle flinging himself in his aunt’s arms.

“Aunt Nes! You came!” Nyx exclaimed. A happy chuckle escaping her lips.

“Of course I came. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.“ Nesta smiled as Cassian cocked his head to the side staring at Nyx.

“What? No love for your favorite uncle?” He stated as Nyx’s eyes widened with excitement

“Is Uncle Az with you?” He questioned causing Nesta to hold in her laugh. Only five years old and he already mastered the art of a good come back. Even Feyre was reining in her smile.

“Say hi to your other uncle, sweetie.“ Feyre encouraged him as he wiggled himself out of Nesta’s arms and hugged Cassian.

“Hi Uncle Cass.“ He greeted. Nesta had no real idea why Nyx had grown more of an attachment to her than Cassian, but she guessed she would never really know that answer. Kids were always a mystery.

“Come inside, we’re just getting to cutting the cake.“ Feyre explained as Nesta and Cassian entered Nyx holding onto Feyre‘s hand.

Cassian‘s hand slid into hers before they entered the sitting area. Several of Nyx’s friends gathered around a table as he chatted away. He really was a social one.

Cassian pulled out a chair for Nesta, she thanked him as they took a spot beside Mor who greeted Casan with a hug.

“Long time, no see, stranger.” Mor greeted. Her smile dazzling across the whole room.

“That’s what happens when you go to the court of Nightmares for a whole six months.“

Mor shrugged taking a sip of her wine.

“It’s not easy to undo the damage the years have caused there, but perhaps in a few more years The Court of Nightmares will be a thing of the past and it can start anew.”

A fresh start. Something that a lot of the Night Court had needed. progress was slow, but nothing ever happened over night.

Nesta‘s eyes drew to Cassian, the curve of his lips at his friends accomplishment. The determination she had showed to take over the Court of Nightmares after her fathers passing and do what she thought she should have always done. Made more dreamers in the city of Nightmares. Nesta had even offered her assistance if Mor ever became overwhelmed. Which she had appreciated.

“How are things in Illyria?” Mor asked, her eyebrows raised in question at Cassian, who’s own smiled beamed, his arm going around Nesta. Pride shone in them with their accomplishments.

“We finally managed to convince Devlon to combine a two small units made up of both Illyrian and Valkeryie warriors. One of them are the younger generations who wish to become apart of the ranks and the others are the ones who have already went through the rite.”

“That’s amazing, I knew you two could do it.” Mor smiled looking over to Nesta.

“I couldn’t have done it without the steel will determination of my mate,“ Cassian explained pressing a kiss to the side of her temple.

“Don’t forget Emerie and Gwyn.” Nesta added.

“How could I ever?” Cassian smiled pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I thought the mating bond was supposed to die down some after a couple of years?” Amren asked sliding down in a chair, Varian by her side.

Cassian smirked at her. “You know that’s not how that works.“

“I dread the day you procreate boy. Hopefully the babe has its mother’s smarts.“

“I hope so too.“ Cassian told her making Nesta feel warm in her chest.

She had been thinking a lot about having children lately. Been having dreams of Cassian filling her with life. thinking of the one they would create together. Been gazing at the tea she had been using as her birth control for the past five years and been wanting to have a conversation about what his thoughts were if she stopped taking it, if they had started trying.

but they both had been so busy lately getting everything together that it had been a while since the two of them had time to be intimate, Had time to talk about the future that she wanted to have with him. Would they be able to have a baby? She knew getting pregnant as a fae could be difficult, but she was willing to try. She just needed a moment with him where they both weren’t exhausted.

Amren smirked seeming to catch how deep Nesta’s thoughts ran.

“I guess we’ll see when the time is right.“ She simply said leaning into Varian. Her wedding ring flashing in the light.

Before Cassian could say more, the door opened Azriel stepping through it as Nyx hugged him. Azriel placing Nyx on his back and carrying him into the dining room.

“Be careful there, Uncle Az, you may throw your back out.“ Cassian teased earning him an eye roll from Azriel.

“I’m in better shape than you.“ Azriel retorted. “I bet you couldn’t even lift him to your shoulders.”

“Is that so?” Cassian challeneed as Nesta heard a far off voice say.

“I hate to break up your bet with my son, but it’s time for presents.“ Rhys told them taking Nyx for Azriel’s shoulder. A wide grin on the boys face.

“Presents!” Nyx shouted happily running towards them as the other children followed. Feyre smiled rubbing at her abdomen absentmindedly.

“Do you think he’ll have any trouble not being an only child when his sister arrives?” Feyre asked as Rhys beamed.

“Not at all. though there definitely will be an adjustment period.“ Rhys assured her as Nesta looked back to Cassian. His gaze on Rhys and Feyre as Rhysand pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek.

Nesta had always knew that Cassian had longed for a family of his own. It wasn’t that his close circle of friends wasn’t enough for him or even her, but she knew Cassian had always wanted children. She had been hesitant afraid if she would be a good mother or not.

He had assured her there was no rush for children. That he would wait hundreds of years if he had to so she could be ready for them. Nesta just had to make sure she was doing this as much for herself as she was for Cassian. She would not bring a child into this world unless both her and Cassisn were ready for one.

Nesta joined the others sitting down next to Feyre as Cassian joined Rhys and Azriel having a conversation that Nesta had no clue what it was about.

Elain was beside Mor and Amren, her laughter flooding over to them as she sent both her sisters a slight wave. Nesta waved back before turning back to Feyre, not sure how to start this particular conversation as they watched Nyx open his presents. His eyes growing wide at the mini paint set his mother had gotten him.

“Thanks mom!” Nyx said flinging his arms around Feyre’s neck as she pulled her son closer.

“You’re welcome baby.” Feyre said hugging him as Nesta took in the sight. She knew she wanted that with her own child. But she was still afraid that she would not be any good at motherhood.

Nesta watched as Nyx opened his other gifts, watching as he opened the toy that Nesta and Cassian had gotten for him. Thanking both of them with a hug.

Nesta‘s smile bloomed as she beheld the hug between Nyx and Cassian, Could almost see Cassian with their own son or daughter, How good of a father he would be. She wondered when Cassian saw her with Nyx if he thought the same thing.

“Is something on your mind?” Feyre asked when they both were alone in the kitchen. they were cleaning up while the others were in the living room showing Nyx how to use his toy and helping him set them up. Cassian had always been great at building things. He was putting the others to shame. A smile tugged at Nesta’s lips.

“When did you know?” She asked as Feyre stopped on the dish she was working on.

“Know about what?” She replied scrubbing at a really stubborn stain as Nesta handed her a better sponge.

“Thank you.“ She said as Nesta dried the dishes Feyre handed to her.

”How did you know you were ready to have a baby?” She asked. Feyre stopping mid scrub.

“Are you and Cassian-?” She started but Nesta interrupted her.

“No. At least not yet. I-I haven’t brought up the conversation with him yet.“ Shd told Feyre. Feyre nodded in understanding.

“I can understand that. It’s not a decision to take lightly. There’s a lot of factors to take into account.”

“Like how I feel like I would be a terrible mother?”

Feyre looked at Nesta with the same eyes they both had inherited from their mother.

”What makes you believe you’ll be a terrible mother?” Feyre asked. going back to the dishes.

“Because I couldn’t even take care of us when it mattered most.” She confided to Feyre.

“It wasn’t your job to take care of us. It was our fathers. “

“It wasn’t your job to take care of us either. but you still did it anyway.“

“It still doesnt mean it would have been right no matter which of us took care of the other. perhaps the real mistake was that we didnt take care of each other, but we were young and we’ll learn from those mistakes, God knows I still make them when it comes to my own child.”

“Please. You’re the definition of the perfect mother.” Nesta told her drying the dishes Feyre had worked on.

“I wouldn‘t say that. I still have the deal Rhys and I made which in retrospect wasn’t the brightest idea if you want to have kids.”

“You made a mistake, it happens to all of us.“

“I will admit we didn’t really think it through. the deal I mean. But no one ever said every decision was a rational one, but you’re deflectin. We were talking about you wanting kids.”

“I know it’s been years but I still have those intrusive thoughts that I’ll end up just like our mother.“ Nesta told her.

“We can’t live our life in fear Nesta. and remember you also have a support system in your corner. If you want to have kids than that’s your choice, well yours and Cassian’s. Just make sure that you’re ready to commit to it. To put that child before anything else, because when your baby comes. It’ll be your whole world. only you can determine what mother you’ll be, The past be damned.“

“Thanks Feyre.“

“Don’t mention it.” Feyre smiled as Cassian turned towards them getting up from his spot and heading towards the kitchen until he stopped where they were at.

“I’ve come to relieve you, my high lady.“ Cassian said as Feyre chuckled.

“Thank God you have spared me of the tedious task that is dish washing.” Feyre teased giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll see you two when you’re finished,“ Feyre told them heading to sit down beside Rhys and Nyx.

“Were you two having fun in here?” Cassian teased grabbing a dish and washing it.

“Aren’t we always?” Nesta smirked grabbing the dish from him and drying it.

“What were you two talking about?” Cassian asked. “It seemed like a pretty intense conversation.“

“It was a sister thing and…there’s something I want to discuss with you when we get home.“ She told him.

“Nothing bad I hope.“

“No. It’s just a conversation that I’ve been wanting to have with you for a while now.“ She confided in him, He nodded, relief filling his features as they worked on the dishes. talking about the party. When things were winding down Feyre pulled Nesta into a hug as Nesta also hugged Nyx,

“Goodbye Aunt Nes.”

“Goodbye buddy, I’ll see you next week when you come spend the night,“

Nyx‘s eyes lit up at the sound of that, the house adored Nyx as it had any other person, Maybe even favored him slightly. Though she didn’t blame the house. it had been a while since a child had been in it.She wondered how the house would feel to have one there permanently.

When Cassian and Nesta went home, She had found her answer in a stack of novels on the house library’s table. Books on motherhood, what to expect when you’re expecting. Nesta felt a warmth in her chest as the house also presented her the herbs for her tea. She hadn’t taken her dosage today.

Footsteps sounded in the door of the library as the books vanished from sight but the tea remained. She had made up her mind. Had known her answer as Cassian approached her.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” He asked taking a seat beside her noting the tea.

Nesta took a deep breath. “Did you mean it? When you said you wanted kids?”

Casian nodded. “It’s something Ive always wanted. What brought this up?” He asked as Nesta took another breath.

“I was thinking-“ Nesta started. “About the future you’ve talked about for us. How you said you wanted kids?”

“Did you change your mind? Did you not want kids? Is that why you said you wanted to talk?” Cassian asked.

”No, I-I wanted to talk to you because I- I want to try for a baby. I-I want to make a baby with you.”

Cassian eyes snapped to hers, searching her face before he stood up, his calloused and warm hand going to her face.

“You want a baby?” Cassian asked. Nesta nodded. And she did. Gods did she want a baby with her mate. the love of her life.

“Yes.” She whispered to him as he smiled. The smile as bright as the dawn as he lifted trash can up eyes flickering to get tea.

Nesta’s smile curved upwards before she took the tea tossing it in the trash before Cassian‘s lips camd crashing down to hers.

He hoisted her on the desk, her back leaning against it as Cassian pulled away smiling down at her in the most breathtaking gaze she had ever saw and whispered.

“Then by all means mate,let’s get stared.“

#nessian #nestaarcheron #cassian #nesta #nessianmonth

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 7

Cassian provides comic relief.

And Gwyn and Az spar for the first time since... everything.

Read on AO3

“Well today was interesting.” Nesta raised a brow. Gwyn chose to play dumb.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged. Her head wasn’t really there, she knew, and her friend could have seen it from miles away.

“Gwyneth Berdara!” Nesta huffed, crossing her arms. “I held you last night as you cried over the shadowsinger and today you can’t stop ogling each other and grinning like fools. What. Happened?” Gwyn smiled sincerely, leaning in to kiss her sister on the cheek.

“I love you, and I will forever be grateful that you are by my side. And that you stalked straight into that study and gave him hell,” the priestess laughed. “We talked last night. I found him in the training ring.”

Gwyn and Nesta sat on the sofa in the library, legs tucked beneath them. Training had ended and hour before and Nesta had practically dragged the redhead inside after being caught in the middle of one-too-many sidelong glances between the priestess and the shadowsinger. Nesta’s ice-gray stare bore into her through narrowed eyes.

“So what? You’re miserable for three weeks and he says he’s sorry and magically everything is fine? I’m disappointed, Berdara.” Nesta scowled. “I wanted you to at least make him squirm a little.”

Gwyn’s head rocked back as she laughed, likely the most genuine mirth she’d experienced in weeks. “Don’t worry, dear Valkyrie. He’s not off the hook yet.” She felt her nose crinkle as her friend’s eyebrows lifted again, this time in surprise.

“Explain, Gwyneth,” she commanded.

“Well,” Gwyn paused, contemplating how to keep the story succinct. “I made him explain himself, and he walked me through his past. He said he wouldn’t blame me if I couldn’t forgive him, but that he cares for me… as more than a friend. And I told him I felt the same.” Her heart swelled just as it had the night before, a quiet confession she hadn’t been sure she ever wanted to hear. Not unless it was from Azriel.

“WHAT?!” Nesta shot to her feet and began pacing excitedly in front of the fireplace with her hands covering her mouth. Then she stopped, turning to Gwyn and leaning on the plush armrest. “So are you an item now?”

“No.” Gwyn’s smile was smug as her friend groaned dramatically and collapsed playfully over the sofa arm. “Not yet, at least.” Nesta lifted her head.

“Oh?”

“I told him that things would go back to how they were before this necklace debacle. That’s how our relationship developed in the first place.” She absentmindedly fingered the pendant as she spoke. “He has to prove to me that he won’t fall into this cycle of guilt and self-loathing and deciding for me what I want or deserve. And once I can trust that he won’t push me away like that we’ll find out what’s next.”

“Darling priestess, I’m impressed!” Nesta pushed herself back upright, leaning once again on the couch. “What did he say?”

Gwyn felt the heat in her cheeks as she recalled the roughness of his declaration, his voice unlike any other time she’d heard him speak.

“He swore to me that he would.”

“He swore? Cauldron, Gwyn, you have him wrapped around your finger already!”

“And then I hugged him.”

Nesta’s lips quirked up on one side and she tilted her head. Gwyn wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction, like she was being studied. “And what did he do then?”

“What else does a person do when you hug them?” The priestess giggled. “He put his arms around me and hugged back.” She conveniently forgot to mention that he’d seemed to breathe her in after that. That it had felt like he was trying to pull her so far into him that she wouldn’t be able to pull away. It had been the most incredible feeling.

Gwyn looked to her friend but found a narrowed gray gaze and flaring nostrils.

“CASSIAN!”

The priestess squeaked as she launched herself to the opposite side of the couch, desperate to quiet her sister’s call. She balanced a knee precariously on the armrest, slapping a hand over Nesta’s mouth.

“Nesta Archeron,” she hissed. “What in the Mother’s name!”

“CASSIAN! Library! NOW!” Nesta held Gwyn’s wrists in her hands, lips curled in amusement. The redhead struggled to quiet her, a string of obscenities rolling from her lips. “Berdara, such language! Hardly becoming of a priestess!”

Said priestess pushed off the sofa arm and pulled Nesta down to the ground, pinning the eldest Archeron on her back between her legs. Her victorious smirk fell when she looked up to find the Illyrian general staring down at them, arms crossed over his broad chest and eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I’m going to kill you, Archeron,” Gwyn growled before flashing a bright smile at Cassian. “Hello, General.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening here. I don’t know if I should be concerned, jealous, or aroused.” Cassian’s grin widened as the priestess scowled, even as she felt the blush burning her cheeks.

“You’re a pig,” his mate muttered before pushing her captor in the stomach. “Get off me, Berdara. We have things to discuss.”

“I don’t see how your mate belongs in this discussion,” Gwyn retorted, but rose to her feet and offered a hand to the other Valkyrie. Nesta got up and they helped dust each other off. She lifted an eyebrow at the copper-haired priestess, her smirk creating a coil of suspicion in Gwyn’s stomach.

“Cassian,” Nesta cooed before turning to face him. “Apparently our dear priestess and the shadowsinger shared an embrace last night.”

“Is that so?” Gwyn pressed her hands to her face, trying to douse the fire that was blazing in her cheeks as the Illyrian fixed her with an unyielding amber stare.

“It is. I’m guessing you didn’t know?” Cassian’s gaze moved to his mate.

“You think Az would tell me something like that?” He laughed, sending Gwyn a wink that only ignited her face further. She groaned and collapsed onto the fluffy cushions of the couch, desperate for this conversation to end.

“He’s your closest friend, isn’t he? I tell my best friend everything.” Gwyn peeked out from between her fingers in time to see Nesta fix a pointed glare on her. “Although, it seems my best friend may be wary to do the same.”

“Nes, Azriel doesn’t tell me anything about his love life. He knows I’ll immediately use it to make his life miserable.”

“Gods, Cassian, please don’t,” Gwyn pleaded, planting her hands on either side of her thighs. The Illyrian plopped onto the couch next to her and shot her a boyish grin.

“I make no promises, little Valkyrie.”

She took in his hulking form as she shook her head at him, a smile creeping onto her lips. Cassian was the personification of strength and power, with confidence that toed the fine line into arrogance. With those rippling muscles that were never truly hidden – no matter how loose a shirt he wore – it was any wonder he didn’t have females hanging from those thick biceps at every moment. But she imagined Nesta would put an end to anything of the sort quickly and in the most terrifying way. Gwyn had always been somewhat surprised that the general hadn’t absolutely terrified her, but she had been remarkably intimidated – his reputation, his swagger, his skill. There was a time not-so-long ago when she couldn’t have imagined feeling so self-assured. Even now she was sure she’d never quite make it to Cassian’s level of easy confidence, but she had come so far from that soft-spoken, timid nymph in the library.

“I don’t even know why I asked.” Gwyn rolled her eyes and flopped back against the velvet tufts and buttons of the well-worn couch.

“Aw, now don’t be like that, Gwynnie,” the general pouted and leaned toward her. She crossed her arms and grimaced, freckled nose scrunching at the nickname. “I promise I’ll try to be good. But that’s all I can promise.”

“He just can’t help himself,” Nesta mused.

“Well I appreciate your effort, I suppose. Since it will be so difficult for you.”

“Anything for you, little Valkyrie.” The general tapped a finger on the tip of Gwyn’s nose and guffawed at her glare. Apparently she wasn’t as intimidating as she’d hoped. But she saw Cassian’s eyes soften, amber gaze shining in the afternoon sunlight through the large windows. “I’m glad you were able to talk to him. Nes had us worried last night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your boys’ night. I never would’ve asked her to –“

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” The honey-haired Valkyrie crossed in front of Gwyn and placed herself on her mate’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. Gwyn’s heart squeezed at the casual display, the intimacy of it. It wasn’t a big deal for the couple before her, but… was that something she could have? Something she could do? Would Azriel want that – closed-off and guarded as he always seemed to be? Smiling and laughing was one thing, but public displays of affection? “Shit got done thanks to me. And if that’s what it took to get him to stop being a fucking imbecile then I will never apologize.”

“I think things are on the right track now.” Gwyn smiled, though she kept her gaze focused on the whorls of dark wood grain in the coffee table. “Hopefully.”

~~~

Two Days Later

Azriel’s shadows wafted like smoke around him, an indication of a peace that was beginning to bloom inside him. Although he had awoken in the middle of the night, it wasn’t his typical darkness and demons that chased him out of bed. He closed his eyes and grinned, feeling the familiar weight of Truthteller in his grasp. Maybe his body was simply accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night, now, and it would take months – or years – of relatively peaceful sleep to change that.

The shadowsinger inhaled deeply, letting his body feel everything around him – the cool night air caressing his wings, the soft glow of the moon brightening the backs of his eyelids, the grounding presence of solid stone as he pushed his weight down through his booted feet and into the packed dirt of the ring. Then he lifted his foot and began the dance, a more elaborate form of the eight-pointed star that he had developed centuries ago, mixing intricate close-proximity blade work with feinting, defense, and hand-to-hand. Every flick of the wrist was carefully choreographed in time with a metronome of inhales and exhales, every shift in weight a perfect harmony accompanying the melody of blade and fist slicing the air.

This, he understood, was one of the most feared males in all of Prythian. Every step, every breath calm and calculated – the result of ruthless research and perfect practice. The Spymaster understood that physical strength and prowess were absolutely important, but the ability to predict and bend and break an enemy hinged on one’s ability to intimately understand every part of the mind inside the body. To so deeply know those who would do harm to his Court, his family, was to be them and see their chosen path, ideally before they even chose it.

And so the dance continued.

Azriel felt the skin of his bare chest and back tighten, pebbling as the breeze and the curling shadows wicked the perspiration from his tanned flesh. He loved this feeling, the quiet and cold of the night a safe haven against prying eyes. They were always on him. He felt them as intensely as if they were the brush of fingers on his skin – lustful longing glances, morbid curiosity over his scarred body and ruined hands, abject and wide-eyed terror at the Spymaster in the flesh. Sometimes his shadows helped hide him, and sometimes he loosened their leash, allowing the inky tendrils to writhe and pulse in his wake, reminding the world just what he was.

Darkness. Malice. Death. The vilified and reviled Court of Nightmares personified in the heart of the beauty of the city of starlight.

So many times he had resigned to himself that he should take residence there, in the Hewn City. Too many times he had been tempted to shut himself off from the love and light of his family and his court and let the shadows consume him. He was endlessly grateful to those who had reached out their hands and walked him back from that ledge – a cliff hanging over the raging black waters of sorrow, brokenness, anger, and fear. Cassian and Rhys. Mor. Feyre.

Gwyn.

Even in the solitude of his midnight practice he could feel the burn of her ocean-deep eyes and scent the hint of rain and water lilies –

Azriel’s eyes snapped open and he spun the quarter turn he knew would leave him facing the doorway. There he found the priestess, clad in those leathers that didn’t hide an inch of her, Cauldron damn him. She leaned against the frame with crossed arms and graced him with a soft smile. He could feel his shadows curl under her thoughtful gaze and he cursed them for once again not alerting him to her presence. It took him but a breath to take in the sight of her, not wanting to ogle her so obviously – a crass male instinct he worked desperately to beat into submission. Gwyn seemed to glow in the night, but while her smooth porcelain skin shone in the moonlight and her straight hair was a fire burning against it, he was captivated always by the teal depths of her impossibly expressive eyes. The emotions he had seen there had nearly brought him to his knees more times than he cared to admit.

“Please, Shadowsinger, don’t stop on my account.” She waved those graceful fingers in his direction, urging him on.

“And give you a free show? I don’t think so.” The sound of her full-bodied laugh may have been the most glorious thing he had ever heard, the sincerity of it something he’d taken for granted. The shadows over his shoulders seemed to vibrate in time with her mirth.

“And what of all I saw before you even realized I was here?”

“A free preview, of course.” He let his lips quirk into a wry smile. “To tempt you.” Gwyn snorted – Mother above she snorted at him. And when she only lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him, he continued.

“Spar with me. If you win I’ll let you watch.”

“You must think mighty highly of yourself if my beating you in a fight would win only the opportunity to watch you train the eight-pointed star, beautiful and elaborate as it may be.” Azriel knew his face was tinged with heat – beautiful – and could only hope the night was dark enough that the priestess couldn’t see. He knew his traitorous shadows would be no help. They seemed to revel in his vulnerability with her, always drifting in her direction and refusing to shield him in any capacity. Not from Gwyn. And while she was clearly unimpressed she pushed away from the wall and strode toward him. Her hair fell over her shoulders and he wondered for a moment why she hadn’t tied it back.

“What brings you here, then, priestess? If not to spar, or to watch?” Azriel knew that her trips to the training ring were borne of sleepless nights, demons and nightmares he had not been able to save her from. But he also knew how she abhorred pity, bristling against it much like he did – a gleaming mirror to his shadowed soul. The spymaster shuddered and took a cautious step toward her as she stopped an arm’s length before him. Her eyes had never left his, and he couldn’t see the exhaustion and pain that had shimmered there only days before. But he still had to ask.

“Are you still having that nightmare, Gwyn?” He knew he didn’t need to explain further, knew that she would understand his ask. He flared his wings, trying to ease the tension between his shoulders that had lodged there as he recalled the wrenching shame of the night he’d been made aware of the full extent of her suffering, the consequence of his stupidity.

Her straight copper hair swished around her face as she shook her head. Azriel felt the unimaginable weight lifting from him as the corners of Gwyn’s mouth ticked up in a gentle smile. A shadow broke away and twirled through a loose tendril that had fallen over her cheek, as if boasting to its master that it could caress her skin and he could not. Azriel’s throat bobbed as he made to speak, but the Valkyrie beat him to it.

“Are we sparring or not, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn stepped away from him, giving herself space to execute a few quick stretches. “If you are to be believed, my viewing pleasure hangs in the balance.”

The spymaster rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t live that down for awhile. He kept silent as he centered himself, rolling his neck and shoulders as he waited for the priestess to take her fighting stance. She deftly wove her hair into an easy plait and tied the end with her ever-present white ribbon.

“Do you just keep a ribbon on you at all times?” Azriel teased.

“I’m always prepared, Shadowsinger.” Gwyn’s eyes narrowed as she answered matter-of-factly. “It’s practically my signature now.” And although the Illyrian chuckled and shook his head, he was inwardly marveling at how she could be so strong and bold and brave and yet still be… adorable.

As Gwyn lowered her hands to her sides, she took a breath. Azriel watched, transfixed, as she seemed to transform in the pale blues and grays of the moonlight upon the stone. Her eyes fluttered shut and she squared her shoulders, breathing in with a patient and measured ease.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Azriel could feel the air around them as it seemed to still along with the redhead – no longer the playful young priestess, but a warrior preparing for battle. He bent his knees and shifted his weight, preparing for what would face him when she opened her eyes. Even his shadows hung frozen over his shoulders, paralyzed in anticipation.

The Valkyrie didn’t give him time to admire how her incredible eyes had become dark and infinite with determination and deadly calm. She struck immediately.

The shadowsinger was taken aback for the briefest moment, but of course he knew that was what she had intended. Often when they sparred it began measured and slow. They knew each other too well, understood their strategies, strengths, and tells. So many times they would simply circle for what seemed like hours, silently daring the other to make the first move. Or relentlessly goading each other until one of them reacted.

Gwyn immediately jumping on the offensive was unusual, and he kept his eyes keenly focused on her face, her breathing, her movement, in an attempt to divine her plan. He deftly blocked punches and ducked under a kick meant for his face, grinning when he heard the muttered curse under her breath. His grin widened as she moved away from him, chest heaving.

“Winded already, Berdara?” Azriel cocked an amused eyebrow as they circled each other. “How disappointing.”

“My training has suffered a bit these last few weeks,” she retorted, wiping the back of her hand over her brow.

“Oh, I am well aware. I saw Nesta knock you on your ass the other day.” The shadowsinger aimed for that same shoulder, the one she left exposed when she was exhausted, throwing a punch, then a kick, and then another punch. Gwyn managed to dodge the kick but couldn’t fully avoid the second fist. She staggered backward with a grunt.

“I’ve been somewhat preoccupied,” she growled. A pang of guilt struck him, but he didn’t let it show, didn’t let it move him. He knew she hadn’t been training healthily, and he knew it was because of him. But their relationship in the ring was just as much about trust and accountability as it was about supporting each other and fighting their lingering darkness. He would not pity her, and he would not take it easy on her.

“Again, priestess. I am well aware.”

Gwyn’s response was to lash out, sending an uncontrolled punch at his face. Azriel caught her wrist and spun her around, caging her in his arms with her back against his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling of her panting body against his as he angled his head to whisper in her ear.

“Your enemy will not wait until you’re ready to strike. You must always be primed, skills honed and mind settled. Even when stupid males make your life unnecessarily difficult and painful.”

The priestess tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were strong as stone. But he wasn’t prepared for her to stomp her foot into his instep. She managed to escape his arms, but he kept his grip on her wrist as she whirled to face him. She wound her wrist from his hand and in the same breath he spun and kicked his leg out low, sweeping her feet out from under her. Azriel was upon her as soon as her back hit the ground, thighs straddling her stomach. Her loss of breath made it easy for him to grab her wrists and pin them to her chest.

“You must always take care of yourself, Gwyneth Berdara. Always be at your best. There must never be defeat for you. You will not falter. You will not be taken. Is that clear?” His voice had become thick as his throat tightened, the shadowsinger only just realizing the implications of her deterioration over the previous weeks. What if there had been an attack? What if something had happened? Gwyn would have been in no condition to fight. That was not a prospect he was willing to entertain. “Is that clear, Berdara?”

“Yes.” Gwyn’s answer was barely a whisper between gulping breaths. Pink stained her cheeks, but he couldn’t tell if that was from his fierce command, their compromising position, or the physical exertion. Azriel didn’t immediately release her wrists and instead leaned back onto his heels to stand. As he rose and stepped backwards over her legs he pulled her to her feet.

“You’re out of practice, priestess,” he scolded, chuckling as she scowled and pulled her arms away from him. She strode over to the water table and poured a cup from one of the half-empty pitchers left from training. Azriel had expected a retort, and when she didn’t fling one he took his time to join her, first retrieving his discarded shirt from the other side of the ring. They stood in silence, letting the night breeze cool their skin and steady their breathing. Gwyn’s teal gaze drifted to the city below, a rainbow of twinkling lights in competition with the black starlit sky. The shadowsinger was content to be silently near her, present for whatever support she needed. He took the chance to appreciate her lovely face in profile, the moonlight illuminating the freckles painted across her cheeks.

“There wasn’t any real reason for me to come up here tonight,” Gwyn admitted softly, keeping her eyes focused out into the night. “I just… wanted to see if you would be here. I wanted to spar with you again, finally. Like we used to.”

Azriel took a moment to soak himself in her confession and allowed the guilt to wash over him briefly. That there was even a shred of insecurity inside her, the smallest thought that he wouldn’t be there for her. He would snuff out those thoughts if it took him another five centuries. “I told you I would prove it to you, that I would earn your trust again. It felt… right. Tonight, I mean.” And then that beautiful smile graced her full lips. She still didn’t turn to him, but he knew without seeing how that smile would light up her eyes. His shadows lazily churned, basking in her contentment, and the shadowsinger allowed himself to delight in the golden spark of hope in his chest when his priestess finally answered.

“Yes. It does feel right.”

Tag list: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430 @live-the-fangirl-life

#gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn x azriel #azwyn #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fic #ao3 #ao3fic #fanfiction

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thequietmanno1 · 2 years

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Thelreads, MHA 253, Replies Part 1

1) “Oh no. This ain`t good. The following chapter didn`t had a name on the folder left by my sister. Oh boy this definitely ain`t good, I know what this type of shit means, I remember the last times we had chapters that I couldn`t know the tittle.

Well, I suppose there`s nothing to do but jump in the pit of despair that is to follow. Follow me, into Chapter 252, and together we shall find the light at the end of the tunnel. Hopefully it won`t be the oncoming train.”- Good idea to trust your first instinct, shame it couldn’t protect you from the revelation we’ve been building up for months towards, ever since you started Vigilantes. It wasn’t an oncoming train, but the lorry convoy and its cargo of retrospective agony instead.

2) “Oh boy, back at U.A. are we? Already over the Endeavor business, and back into business with the true horror of a teenager`s life: math homework.”- Better than the other alternative of getting abducted and spending your adolescent years getting remodelled into a sentient monster at the behest of people you’ve never even met, all to suit their purposes. Shirakumo might still be around inside Kurogiri, but he’s spent a long time walking around under All For One’s commands- perhaps even longer than he was alive as a human being even.

3) “Not gonna say that it had just begun, right? Midoriya, the amount of shit you guys went through was enough for at least three lifetimes, don`t try to tell me it was nowhere close to reaching its lowest moment”- Oh, we’re well past the beginning stages, but it is kinda a sobering though, realising that all the chaotic mayhem and gradual worsening of the situation has occurred so rapidly in only a little under nine months’ worth of time. Sure, All For One and the league kicked things off, but such a rapid change in the stability of the country indicates just how fragile it was all along, and how paper-thin the lie of true peace and safety was that All Might fought and bled to uphold for the ordinary people who just wanted a life of peace, even as his own efforts further frustrated and oppressed those who sought a different type of peace outwith what society would grant them.

4) “Also, I already see what this is gonna be about. Jesus that`s a bit more comforting, knowing that this is going to be a new year`s chapter, goddammit the lack of tittle worried me for a moment. fuck`s sake, stop tricking me like this”-The moment you feel most relaxed is the moment the trap is sprung and the pain is delivered nice and fresh.

5) “Well, you see, Bakugo realized the real victory was all the friends you made along the way. Midoriya learned of all of endeavor`s weakspots and good places to dispose a body in case Todoroki needs some help.”- Shoto learned that forgiveness is not something that is easily obtained or granted on a whim and that he needs to work on some more hot/cold one liners for putting villains down.

6) “Calm down Aizawa, the day just got started and the kids are on their way to the killing ground, don`t tell me you came all this way to give them some shitty news or something, we don`t need this kind of negativity on this house.”-Well Aizawa’s got some fairly shitty news coming his way shortly enough and it renders him so negative he can’t even stay on campus anymore.

7) “…

I have a slightly suspicion that we`ll see very little of the new year`s eve this chapter, by the way things are going. It wasn`t this the reason I was denied the tittle, right?”- You see the outline of the trap but not the exact mechanism by which it will active…

8) “…

God fucking dammit Ida.”- To be fair, learning how to act loose and easy-going is something that’s quite hard for Iida to do and very important if he wants to get along with a sizeable number of sidekicks like Tenya did- which, I always kinda assumed he’d be aiming for, if he wanted to surpass him as a hero.

9) “Oh good, they called him to talk before he snapped and- well, snapped Kaminari and Sero`s necks”- Oh, he’s about to snap in a very different, not-funny way….

10) “Huh, new costume? I don`t see anything different, but then again, I`m not that good with details- HAGAKURE CAN YOU PUT A SHIRT PLEASE? THIS IS A CHRISTIAN WEBSITE, BEHAVE YOURSELF!”- I think she’s added wider, more antenna-like protrusions to her helmet, possibly for allowing Radio communication, as well as large gauntlet-like ‘cuffs’ she can store her new wire tool in alongside other, more important objects…

11) “And Uraraka apparently got some new equipment alongside her costume change. A heavy wire on her wrist… I do wonder, is she going to make her own version of Black whip? Is she going to incorporate a medium range weapon on her arsenal after Midoriya started using one as well? Well, that will be answered after we see what is that Mina just dropped.”- Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but thinking about it, Uraraka’s quirk is basically perfect for web-swinging anyway and cuts out the nasty side-effects of gravity pulling you down if you don’t find another anchor point to grab onto fast before you hit the ground. Plus, with her gravity nullification, she can either grab objects floating away from her and reel them towards a target or hold onto civilians and use the wire as a guiding line to move them to a safe location, such as down off a high-rise building that’s on fire. Of course, that was all secondary to having the excuse to get a large enough compartment added to her costume to have a very important gift by her side at all time when she needs a morale boost…

12) “Oh, I remember that, isn`t it the gift Midoriya got her?”- Mina and the other girls recognise it too, meaning we weren’t the only one watching that little gift exchange with interest…

13) “oh yeah, it was that, and mina, as the absolute shipper that she is, immediately connected the dots on what it was and why Uraraka had it. Yeah, we all know the reason for that as well wink wink ;) ”- It was to give us a final dose of wholesome shipping teasing before the rest of the chapter introduces the failed outcome of a teenage romance cut short by tragedy and literally warped into an unrecognisable form…

14) “Meanwhile, there`s no place for romance at the MANLY MAN LOCKER ROOM OF MANLINESS. HERE WE ONLY SPEAK OF MUSCLES, GUNS, POWER, and the crushing weight of expectations caused by toxic masculinity and the difficulty on opening up about it to other people due to the fear of not conforming to society. ALSO CARS AND GUNS MOUNTED ON CARS.”- Fittingly, Bakugou shortly thereafter demonstrates an insecure teenager’s reaction to feeling like he’s getting overshadowed by his competitor and getting rendered insignificant in their personal race to become number one- excessive use of violence to demonstrate his disapproval, remind everybody that he’s there and plenty strong already and vent his frustrations with himself for feeling weaker than Izuku, even if momentarily. Truly, this boy is a psychologist’s field day.

15) “OH JESUS FUCK BAKUGO

YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM LIKE THAT?!”- And we can take this as proof that Bakugou regularly bolts a sharp piece of spiky metal to his face as part of his costume for no other reason than to look cool and imposing, even though it’s gotta be pretty heavy and cardboard would probably do the trick just as well. This kid goes the extra mile to look like his idealised image of a manly hero, so it’s no wonder he gets along so well with Kirishima.

16) “HOLY JESUS THAT WASN`T EVEN A GAG THAT HAPPENED FOR REAL”- Luckily, it seems the next piece of OFA’s powers that Izuku’s unlocking is the ridiculous durability All Might demonstrated from getting blasted through multiple buildings with only minor damages to show for it, allowing him to tank impalement with barely a reaction once the shock wore off. Kid’s gonna be nearly bulletproof by the time he fully masters his abilities.

17) “OH MY GOD HE`S STILL GOING ON EVEN THOUGH HE DIED”- They eventually needed surgery to get it out, and whilst Izuku’s mostly fine, they have to leave a piece of the mask stuck inside his brain and now he can no longer count backwards from 10.

18) “ALL MIGHT PLEASE THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR JOKES, YOUR SON DIED AND BAKUGO DOESN`T EVEN REGRET IT, DO SOMETHING PLEASE!”- Or it’s precisely the time for jokes, because poor Aizawa is not in a good place and somebody’s gotta keep the kids occupied and unaware of their teacher’s grief until he’s had time to process all these revelations and compose himself.

19) “Urgent business, eh? Was it something related to Eri? Well, it doesn`t look like it, since he`s out of school right now… I don`t know, something fucky is going on, and I`m already getting scared.”- This dates back to before he became a certified dad, and in fact, is mostly the reason he even became one in the first place. The Skeletons in your closet don’t normally come out and say ‘hello’ on their own, and with this particular zombie, Aizawa doesn’t even know what to think anymore- hell, the man’s so shaken he can’t even drive himself to the prison, even though he’s gotta own some kind of motorised vehicle and a licence if he wants to get around.

20) “Oh, you got Mic to drive you around? dammit aizawa- and you even complain while he drives your ass around, fuck`s sake man, let him be a responsible driver.”- At this point, the unanswered hope that it’s all a mistake and the horrible, horrible reality they’re in where their childhood friend got frankenstiened together into a tailor-made monster by somebody they didn’t even know existed until a few months ago isn’t real is the only reason Aizawa isn’t having a full-on mental breakdown, and the warring desire to confirm in and at the same time, reject the truth is making him irritable. Beyond even the horror of what’s become of Kumo, he’s seen All For One in action, and knows exactly who did that to his friend. Aizawa’s past shows that he’s well aware of his weaknesses, and even if he wants to enact vengeance for the desecration of his old friend, there’s nothing he can do against somebody as awe-inspiringly powerful as All For One himself, especially since he’s currently locked up and absolutely isolated from the outside world. He can do nothing about this messed-up situation, so the only thing he can do right now is pray that it’s not real… but Horikoshi and All For One have no kindness to spare. @thelreads

#bnha #thelreads #chapter replies #mha253 #my hero academia

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 13

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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[Ron]

The moment immediately after Ron admits his feelings, and before he draws up the courage to snog Hermione senseless in public seems to last a lifetime, and it's bursting with questions.

Why does he hesitate? He can't simply tell a girl he's falling in love with her, pause to stare at her lips, panic, and then do nothing.

But that's what Ron does. Maybe she's thinking the same things he is: that they agreed not to kiss, and they weren't expecting to admit such strong feelings, nor were they expecting them to be reciprocated. Although it feels silly not to kiss, doing so would feel like breaking a promise, and they have all night to kiss, so what's the rush? Why risk outing their relationship at the wrong time simply because of the heat of the moment?

Or maybe she's simply wondering why the fuck he isn't kissing her.

However long the moment lasts, it's over when a drunken Seamus staggers up to them and interrupts.

"Ron, Hermione! I've been looking for you," he says, stumbling through the crowd to greet them, oblivious to what he's barging in on. "We're going on the Deathstick. Come on!"

Seamus points to the ride in question — the Deathstick — and next to Ron, Hermione groans in response. In the middle of the venue is a thrill ride that towers up and through the ceiling. Riders pair up into compartments and rotate around a tall pillar, rising through the ceiling until they… well, Ron doesn't actually know. Presumably, they drop, but it all takes place above the roof, out of sight. That's probably part of its appeal.

The pair follows behind Seamus, and Ron can sense the reluctance from Hermione. One glance at her pale face tells him she's not much of a thrill-seeker.

"You good?" he asks.

"I'm not sure about this," she says, eyeing the tower with trepidation.

"You don't fancy an adrenaline rush?"

Hermione laughs. "Oh, I do. It's just that my idea of an adrenaline rush is a glass of wine and a murder mystery."

A glass of wine and a murder mystery sounds fantastic right about now, and Ron can't help but smile at the thought of Hermione curled up on the sofa with a book, her legs on his lap, and a cabernet in her hand.

In the London flat that they share, of course.

"Well, that sounds amazing," says Ron. "We don't have to go." His heart sinks the moment he says it, and he's suddenly aware of how much he wants to go.

"You should go," she says, noticing his reaction. "I'll wait for you."

Ron smiles at her and turns toward the ride. The rest of the wedding party has already partnered up for the two-person compartments — Harry with Ginny, Dean with Seamus, Neville with Luna, and Demelza with Lavender. Ron's all alone.

Ron looks back at Hermione and follows her gaze to a group of girls — possibly another hen party — running into a similar dilemma. Hermione scowls as one of the partner-less girls scans the crowd, looking for someone to ride with. He can hear a faint suggestion from her friend, "Why don't you ask that red-head? He's cute…"

"I'll go with you," Hermione says, smiling back at Ron. "How bad could it be?"

"Are… are you sure?" he asks, unable to stop the smirk that spreads across his face. She's jealous.

"Yes, I'm sure," she says. "I wouldn't want you to ride alone, or worse, with a complete stranger."

"Agreed, I'd prefer to ride with my wife than a girl I just met," says Ron, winking at the girl who's both. They proceed to the ride entrance, and Hermione hesitates before letting Ron pull her along.

"I'm sure the view up top will be worth it," she says, her voice shaking.

Once they reach the front of the line, they pile into the tiny cell and strap themselves into their harnesses. Hermione's fingers intertwine with Ron's as the doors close, and she lets out a small whimper. Ron squeezes her hand.

"It'll be over soon," he assures her, even though he's not sure he wants it to be. It's probably only a five to ten minute ride, and the small compartment has a lot of privacy.

As if on its own accord, his thumb starts caressing the top of her hand.

They start their slow ascent to the top, passing through The Slug Club's ceiling into the night sky. Hermione squeezes Ron's hand more firmly, and Ron can feel her rising pulse through her fingers.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm okay," she says, her voice trembling.

Las Vegas shrinks as they ascend into the night sky, until they're floating above a sea of sparkling lights. The neon signs, vehicle headlights, and illuminated windows pepper the desert floor, now looking like tiny, electric legos that Ron could pick up and hold between two fingers. From up high, the city looks like the perfect set of pieces to rearrange and create something new from scratch. It reminds him of his childhood daydreams when he would build castles and fortresses with blocks and imagine he could fit inside and live there. He'd write himself into stories about knights, talking statues, princes, and princesses, and play out the unlimited possible futures and happy endings.

The weight of Hermione's hand pulls him out of his reverie, but only partially. There's something magical about the moment, hovering above the world, with the commotion of the city reduced to candlelight, that keeps him tied to the innocent optimism of his younger self. As a child, Ron lived his life guided by a heart that had never been broken, and he would have had no issues falling in love with a princess before learning her middle name. Maybe there's wisdom in that forgotten mindset because right now, the idea of building something beautiful from nothing and writing his own happy ending feels more relevant than ever.

"Check out that view," says Ron, breaking the almost silence.

They rotate on the axis, and Hermione's eyes tear up as she admires the electric grid below. Ron continues to rub circles onto her hand, matching the calming pace of his breath. Hopefully, she feels a moment of peace too.

Away from the ambiguous city noise at ground-level, it feels like he's been submerged in silence at first, but as his ears adjust, the subtle sounds of their breath fill the space. It's a sound he hasn't heard in a while, and upon a closer listen, he starts to make sense of it — it's like its own language, nuanced but informative. His calm, rhythmic breath matches the peace of the moment, and as they slow to a stop at the ride's highest point, Hermione's choppier, erratic breathing reminds him that at any second, they'll drop into freefall.

"It's beautiful," she says, squeezing his hand back and admiring the view.

"So beautiful."

Hermione must sense by the closeness of his voice that he's looking at her, not the view, and she turns toward him with a smile on her face. They lock eyes, and the heat in her gaze suggests that if she weren't strapped down by a harness, she'd be snogging him senseless by now.

Then they drop into freefall.

The quiet of their carriage turns to screams of adrenaline as they plummet toward the ground, only to rise and drop again; how many times, Ron doesn't know, but he grips her hand as the only still, unmoving anchor to reality as the world blurs around them.

Eventually, their screams turn to laughter, and Ron's relieved to see Hermione smiling wide, her eyes sparkling. Her face is red, her hair is frizzing out every which way, and Ron has never seen anything so gorgeous.

"That was amazing!" he says once he catches his breath, and his heart rate returns to normal. "How do you feel, Hermione?"

"I don't know yet. Give me a second," she says, but her smile suggests she's just fine. "A little dizzy."

"Well, let's get you to a bench."

As they exit the ride and head over to a bench to rest, the rest of the wedding party pours out of their compartments, unsteady on their feet, and Ron has to stop himself from looping an arm around Hermione. Instead, he reaches for her arm under the guise of supporting her balance.

"I'm so proud of you!" he exclaims when she plops to a seat.

"What? Why?" she groans, leaning back on the bench and closing her eyes. She deepens her breath as if staving off nausea.

"Because you just did something that terrifies you, and it took a fuckload of courage."

Hermione laughs. "You did it too."

"Nah. Stuff like that doesn't scare me," he says as he sits next to her and waves off her questioning glance. "You're amazing, Hermione. Really."

Her eyes crack open for a moment, and she smiles at him. Ron's extra aware of the distance between them and how easy it would be to close it. He could just pull her into his lap for a quick snog. Who's really watching?

He doesn't have the chance to act on the temptation before Harry's panicked voice diverts his attention.

"Ginny! Are you okay, love?"

Harry sprints past their bench faster than a lightning bolt to where a sick Ginny is leaning over a rubbish bin.

Without a second thought, Harry rolls up his sleeves to hold her hair back. He doesn't bat an eye when she's sick yet again, and when she finishes, Harry pulls her into a hug and kisses her forehead, paying no attention to the risk of contaminating his shirt.

"I want that," mutters Hermione, staring wistfully at Harry and Ginny.

"Want what?" asks a confused Ron.

"Aren't they cute?"

Ron scoffs. "No, they're not. Look at them. They've never looked worse," he says, laughing.

"Well, that's exactly what I mean!" says Hermione, turning toward him now.

"Explain yourself."

"You and I think they look… awful right now," she says, gesturing toward Harry and Ginny, who are still embracing. "But even though they're stumbling drunk and covered in sick, they still think the other is the most attractive person in the world. I think it's sweet."

Ron watches his sister and future brother-in-law. Harry mutters something in Ginny's ear that makes her smile. The look in his eyes is one that Ron never wants to see directed at his sister, but Hermione has a point.

"I want to know what that's like," she says.

Ron looks over at Hermione, and he can't help but smirk.

"What?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

"You do know what that's like, Hermione."

For good measure, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She catches his hand and leans her cheek against his palm. Her cheeks flush pink, and in a bold moment, she turns her head and presses a kiss to his hand.

He almost gets lost in the moment before he remembers that the reasons he can't kiss her are the same reasons he can't stay here and cradle her face. She seems to have the same realization and lifts her head, letting his hand drop back to his side.

She smiles at him, and there's a glint of something in her eye — mischief, maybe.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, fully knowing his tone comes off as suggestive. He doesn't care.

"That I owe you a drink."

Ron raises his eyebrows. "But didn't we agree to stay sober tonight?"

She raises hers back. "Just one drink?"

Ron smiles. The way he sees it, his best life decisions have been made while drunk with Hermione Granger.

"Just one drink," he confirms.

Hermione grins, and by the look she gives him, he knows that she doesn't mean just one. It's okay, though, because he doesn't either.

When they reach the bar, Ron's disappointed to discover that they aren't the only ones in the wedding party with the idea. It appears that the adrenaline rush of the Deathstick has made everyone thirstier, so their friends scatter in pairs around the taproom. With everyone's attention a quick shout away, Ron's hopes of stealing a kiss from his wife diminish.

"Hello again, Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger. Can I get you a drink?" asks Rosmerta, approaching them with a smile.

"Sure," says Ron. "Madam Rosmerta, what is the most popular cocktail at this bar?"

"Madam! I like that!" smiles Rosmerta. "Our most popular drink would probably be Felix."

"Never heard of it!" says Ron.

Rosmerta leans across the bar as if preparing to tell him a big secret. Hermione and Ron lean in to listen.

"Years ago, a customer came in and handed over directions to concoct a very specific drink. He called it 'liquid luck'," she says, winking. "At first, we laughed at him; thought he was taking it way too seriously. He was a very superstitious type. The joke was on us, though. He hit up the casino and left five million dollars richer. We ended up naming the drink after him."

"Bloody hell. We'll take two of those!" he says, sending a questioning glance toward Hermione, who nods.

"Don't get too excited," says Rosmerta as she fixes up two shimmery golden cocktails. "No one's ever been able to mimic that level of luck, though many have tried." She slides the drinks across the bar to Ron and Hermione and shrugs. "It tastes good, though."

Ron reaches into his pockets to fish out some cash for Rosmerta. She deserves a big tip for putting up with a rowdy crowd like this one, and who knows what rude customers she's had to deal with today.

"Thanks, Rosmerta! Can you hold the straws on those, please?" he asks, just as Rosmerta is reaching under the bar to grab two plastic straws to plop into their drinks.

"You sure?" she asks, hesitating before the open cabinet.

"Yeah," says Ron. "Save the sea turtles, right?"

"As you wish!" says Rosmerta.

Ron turns back toward Hermione and opens his mouth to speak, but pauses when he catches her eye. There's a fiery passion in her gaze, and it's something that Ron has never before seen in a woman's eyes, at least not directed at him.

Her look is like a spotlight, yet he doesn't mind the attention. It feels like he's on a stage, and no matter what he says or does, it will earn him a standing ovation. He can't help but wonder if Hermione's ever looked at a man like that before, but before his insecurities can take root, she springs forward and crashes her lips against his.

It takes some time for Ron to process what's happening before he responds. He's not entirely sure how much, as time might as well stop turning. When he gets his bearings, his fingers snake into her hair, and he holds her head in place, although he doesn't need to as she makes no effort to break away from him. She kisses him with a passion that Ron would expect behind closed doors only; the way her tongue slides between his lips is slow and sensual, yet eager and full of lust, and the sound she makes when he gently tugs at her hair sends Ron's mind spiraling into dangerous fantasy territory.

With great reluctance, they pull away, panting to catch their breath. Ron doesn't even think to look around and check if anyone saw them. As far as he's concerned, they're the only two people in The Slug Club.

"I know we were trying to keep this quiet, but—" she says, but Ron cuts her off by pulling her lips back to his.

The second time is even hungrier. Ron can feel Hermione's teeth bite his bottom lip, teasing him, as her hands slip around his shoulders. She lets out a soft moan as her fingers trace the muscles of his arms, and any negative thoughts he's ever had about his body — too lanky, too scrawny, not athletic enough — float to the background and become irrelevant. The increasing pressure in his shorts suggests he's close to getting carried away, and although he wouldn't mind, he doesn't want Hermione to get a slap on the wrist for public indecency, so he forces himself to pause.

When they surface for the second time, Ron notices that she's ditched her bar stool and is standing before him, leaning her weight against his leg, dangerously close to his growing erection. His arms have managed to wrap around her hips, and his hands are shamelessly resting on her bum, but again, he pays no mind to the crowd. There's only one person that matters.

"I haven't even had a sip of Felix yet, and I already feel like the luckiest man in here," he says. "What inspired this?"

"It was everything. I swear every time you look at me, and every little thing you say, it gets more difficult to keep my hands off of you."

Ron pulls her against him, tilts his head up, and presses a light, chaste kiss to her lips. He loves that she's short enough to reach his lips when he's sitting down, and her face is just as beautiful from this new angle. He wants to see it from every vantage point possible.

"What was the tipping point?" he asks, his tone playful.

"The straws," she says. "And the 'save the sea turtles' bit."

Ron beams. Straws. Of course.

"What did sea turtles do to make you love them so much?" he laughs, tightening his embrace. "And can they give me some tips?"

Hermione smiles down at him and toys with the hair on the back of his neck. "You don't need any tips," she says, inching her lips closer. "You'll be just fine."

She closes the space between them, and once again, he immerses himself in kissing her. As if they're back on the Deathstick, the ambient noise of the surrounding crowd fades away, and he finds no difficulty tuning into the sound of her breath and the taste of her lips.

Nothing can distract him from this moment. The wolf-whistles around them fade away, and Ron has all but forgotten about the two sparkling gold, untapped glasses of Liquid Luck on the bartop. He could kiss her forever, taking mental notes on every response, every reaction, eager to discover this growing language between them, and the endless stories it can tell.

#be11a_vegas #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hpromione #muggle AU

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letshaikyuu · 4 years

Text

𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟶 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: when you get a call one afternoon from an unknown number, you decide to answer it; what story lies behind it was beyond your imagination; astronaut!Oikawa Tooru

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: angst, no happy ending, major character death

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2k

» [based on an episode of 911: Lone Star] «

“Hello?”

The line on the other side kept cutting off, unstable and breaking, making it hard to hear the voice on the other end. It wasn’t until a few seconds later, the line seemed to find its way to a stable connection, that you heard a very loud voice on the other side.

“Mom!? Mom, is that you!?” As if it found its perfect position, the line suddenly stabilized. With no more breaks in the line, you could hear the voice perfectly; the voice on the other end completely unfamiliar to you and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t feeling anxious, scared almost, by the fear and panic in the male’s voice, yelling at you through the phone’s speaker.

“I-I’m not your mom,” you looked around your empty apartment, but no one was around while you were lazing on the couch, your favorite TV show playing and a refreshing drink on the table, “I’m hanging up no-“

“NO, WAIT! PLEASE DON’T HANG UP!”

You gulped at the needy tone. The male was certainly frightened, maybe in need of some help, guidance, medical care, but who were you to provide him with any of that. You weren’t supposed to answer the phone in the first place. “Sir, if you were calling 911, you’ve dialed the wrong number-“

“I hoped you were my mother.” Have you not been speaking softly, you would’ve missed it. The loud, booming voice now turned into something so fragile, glass-like; it edged on some kind of sympathy, yet, you felt nervous. “Nobody’s answering the damn phone. Now!? Now when I need them the most, they’re not fucking answering!?”

“Sir, please calm down,” you could clearly notice the fear in your own voice, but tried to mask it by faking a cough, “if you hang up, maybe you’ll get them to answer.”

“Please...” Eyes widening at the obvious cry, you stayed silent for a few seconds, letting the man cry and try to calm down. “I-I’m dying...and no one is answering my calls...”

That definitely didn’t sit right. “Dying!? Sir, you need medical attention then!” But, he only chuckled, sniffles being the only answer on the other end.

“If there’s someone who knows how to treat exposure to radiation 500km above Earth, I’ll gladly take their help.” It was at this point that most would figure out they’re being messed around with, but, he sounded too sincere, too honest and scared to be lying about something like that. “I’m Oikawa Tooru, astronaut sent on a mission from the ISS and currently floating almost 500km above Earth. Nice to meet you stranger.”

“Wait...you’re really calling from a space station!?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, aren’t I?”

“B-but..,” you tried to comprehend this new onslaught of weird and rare information, but this conversation began becoming weirder and weirder, “how are you talking to me, then?”

In the distance, you could hear faint typing, as if he were typing on a keyboard and moving around every few seconds. “I’d love to give you all the technical information, but I’m kind of dying, so spare me that part, will you?”

You were shocked at how nonchalant he was acting. He was dying, but the voice from the beginning of the conversation, with the fire and will to survive, screaming out for his mother, seemed to distinguish into nothing but mere realization and acceptance that death was upon him.

“What’s your name, stranger?”

“Y/N...”

You look at the TV, shutting it off so you could hear him better, his voice too weak to be heard above the blaring noise of the TV. “Only 10 minutes left,” you could hear him whisper out softly, his voice hoarse and cracking.

“Why didn’t you call your family?” Talking to someone minutes before their passing was not something you’d call a dream afternoon, but you would never forgive yourself if you cut him off now and slam the phone down, so you kept talking to him.

“I did, but my parents are at work and my sister isn’t answering either. My best friend...he too isn’t answering..,” he voiced out, his furious typing dragging your – and ultimately his – attention away from what was really happening. It felt like a quick break from reality. “So, I’m begging you,” you held your breath as you awaited his next words, “please don’t let me die alone.”

“Let’s play 20 questions!”

Oikawa’s voice became hoarser as he kept talking to the stranger on the phone. He could feel his chest tighten and lungs beg for pure oxygen, but Oikawa knew he wasn’t getting any. His fellow partner, who was with him at the space station, laid dead beside him, the effects of the radiation killing him long before Oikawa could even realize.

He was left alone, with only a stranger’s voice on the other end, talking to him and reminding him that there’s someone who he can talk to mere minutes before death. “I probably have...6 minutes left,” he thought to himself as he moved from each side of the space shuttle, his fingers quickly typing as he put in the last piece of information into the computers. Hopefully, when they find them someday, they’ll be able to see what went wrong and prevent this from ever happening again. Unfortunately, Oikawa had to be the test subject for this.

“20 questions? Oikawa, you do know you have a few minutes left, right?” Your worried voice sounded in his ear and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I just want to know the person I’ll be talking to last a bit more, is that a crime?”

He could hear you let out a small chuckle in return and he smiled. He wanted to keep the atmosphere as light-hearted as possible, even though the clock kept ticking and seconds went by, it seems, faster than usual. He didn’t have much time left, so why waste it on crying?

“Tell me a little bit about yourself. You know, favorite color, animal and all that.”

Oikawa kept typing, but listened intently on what you were saying. To many, it were random things and it didn’t make sense to ask about them, but Oikawa knew what he was doing. Your voice soft, but even though you tried to hide it, there was an evident stutter once in a while and a sharp intake of breath. You’d stop every few seconds to see if he was still breathing, so Oikawa kept humming in reply.

His words became heavy, breathing weaker as his lungs began to die on him. “3 more minutes left...” He whispers out, more to himself than the person he’s talking to. Typing down the last piece of information he finds important to be written down, Oikawa moves to the center of the space shuttle and waits.

He lies down, eyes staring at the ceiling as his body floats aimlessly around the shuttle. His partner long gone in front of him. He closes his eyes, pictures of him and his closest friends and family start flashing before his eyes. So, this is how death looks like, he thought as he wished to hear them one last time before he passes. But, Oikawa knew that some wishes were never made to be fulfilled. It so happens that his greatest wish will be just a long forgotten memory.

However, there’s you, still on the phone with him. You’re still talking, stopping every once in a while to hear his breathing, but instead, you’d only get violent coughing in return. He could hear you sniffling, soft cries being held back by a hand covering your mouth. Oikawa couldn’t imagine how you felt, having to hear someone die with you by their side. He will be forever grateful to you, for sticking by his side while he experienced his last few minutes on Earth. Technically above Earth, but Oikawa didn’t want to go into the technical details.

He looked one last time out the shuttle window, beautiful Earth in front of him. He was so close to it, in the lower layers of the atmosphere, yet, so far to go back and live life. He always wanted to be an astronaut and he’d rather die than give up on his wildest dreams. And, die he will. “1 minute left, huh...”

“Y/N...listen,” he tried to talk through the coughing, but had to stop numerous times, unable to finish the sentence. “T-Tell me how you look like...”

“How I look like? Oikawa, are you sur-“

“I want to picture you before I die. You’re the last person I’ll ever talk to.”

His body shook tremendously from the violent coughing, breathing becoming unstable and finding it hard to voice out any words. His throat almost closed, restricting him of any normal functioning, but, with one last breath, he managed to murmur out:

“Call me Tooru, please, call me Tooru.”

You were talking through your tears, stumbling over your words as you try to describe yourself in the quickest way possible, so that Oikawa knew who he had been talking to moments before death. He became awfully silent, his quiet humming becoming more and more distant, until you couldn’t hear it anymore.

“A-And I have this scar f-from when I-I...” You stopped, wishing to hear him chuckle at your story, his soft laughter picking at your every heart string every time he let it out. From the way he sounded and acted, Oikawa was truly something else.

“T-Tooru? T-Tooru, are you there?” You yelled out frantically, seconds as silent as the dead ticked by with no noise coming from the other side. Just your voice, all by itself, echoing through the space shuttle.

“Tooru!? Oh God, Tooru...please...please no...” The phone slipped from your shaking hand and you let it fall. There was no use in talking anymore when everything was finally over. As violent sobs racked your body, you try to look at the clock through teary eyes. It had only been ten minutes. Ten minutes of you talking to someone you’ve never met. To family and friends talking to each other, ten minutes meant nothing but a part of a longer duration. But, to Oikawa, a son, an uncle, a friend, it meant everything. It meant only 10 minutes of breathing, thinking, and feeling. And then, after those 10 minutes, everything would be gone, like ne never once existed. And to you? To you, those minutes would never go away. They will be forever edged in your brain. The noise of him hardly breathing, talking and telling you how much he appreciates you talking to him. To Oikawa, those 10 minutes had already passed, but to you, those 10 minutes will still be there to haunt you.

‘Breaking news:

ISS has reported the death of two astronauts from their newest mission. The astronauts have been exposed to radiation, their space shuttle still roaming the lower layers of Earth, providing them no protection from the radiation. The ISS express its deepest condolences to the victims’ families.’

It was the day after. Your eyes completely dry from the onslaught of tears yesterday. You looked up at the screen and saw the face you had been talking to. Oikawa Tooru. His handsome face was plastered on your TV, a wide grin on his face as he smiled to the camera.

You didn’t know what made you cry more. His curly brown hair softly falling and framing his face, his deep brown eyes that seemed to grab you in and never let you go or was it something else that couldn’t be seen on screen.

“He had a heart of gold,” you whispered out, more to remind yourself that he will truly be remembered as someone who was pure and kindhearted, a hero who died trying to find out more about the Earth and living his wildest dreams.

To many, that day could have been filled with happiness, sorrow or grief. But, nobody will know knew about the death of two astronauts, far away from Earth. Their sacrifice would only be known a few days later, when the ISS releases its official statement. But, nobody will know about your conversation with him, his last 10 minutes. It was something you’d cherish deeply, until death knocked on your door as well; and, maybe, you will finally able to meet the one that stole your heart – in only ten minutes.

‘ISS also reports that one of the astronauts, Oikawa Tooru, had been found with a smile on his face.’

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa headcanons #hq oikawa #oikawa angst #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n

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unseeliefaelass · 3 years

Text

Darksiders: Origins

Chapter 3: Names and Heirarchy

Ale remained watchful of the infant from then on. She continued her work with the other embryos now infants themselves as well. With this one however, she felt a strong connection to. Which may have been strengthened by the infant's constant need for attention and help. Nothing Ale didn't know about infants to be sure. Yet she still felt the bond all the same. Ale noticed the infant would have trouble staying in his sleep state alongside the others. During which time, Ale would bring him back out to lull the little one back into sleep. Whilst the machine connected to the pods did provide the appropriate nutrients for them, the infant began refusing it. Absalom noticed this first and asked Ale to fix the problem. No matter what though, the child refused to take to the vines that worked as hollow tubes for his food. Eventually Ale took another risk and started bringing him out more often. Giving the little one a bottle whilst holding him gently. Whilst this did slow his progress when compared to the other infants, there was little choice in Ale's mind. Lilith heard of each moment from Absalom naturally, leading to her jealousy manifesting more. Llildan tried his best to distract her of course, but warned Ale to not pull out the child so frequently. Ale couldn't stop in her mind, so she attempted to quell Lilith's rage against her by inquiring about names for them.

Lilith growled quietly in response before turning her head in exacerbation, "I've little time for such things. However as someone refuses to do her job as expected; it seems I've got no choice now. For now, leave the room. You will only come back when I ask for you. Absalom and I will handle the naming ourselves."

"But if the little one gets hungry he won't eat from the vines. I need to keep an eye on him if he's to make it." Ale protested.

Lilith's familiar twisted grin appeared, "I am his Mother. Therefore, I will handle it as I see fit. Be lucky I need you alive for my childrens' sake."

Ale backed down at this, but still worried herself sick over the child's fate. Llildan tried to keep her at ease, and ultimately began to regret his choice to ask for her help. Meanwhile Lilith and Absalom observed the children around them. She then gave Absalom reign over naming the males, whilst she named the females. Believing herself more qualified to name the female children. Absalom was annoyed at this, but did his task all the same. There was more girls than boys, which made sense to Absalom. He himself was male, so six girls versus five males was a perfect ratio.

He went on to the biggest ones first, "For the largest one here, Urias. The leaner one next to him shall be Methuselah."

Lilith in the meantime spotted a particularly beautiful little girl among the females. Thinking nothing of it, she took the little baby out of her pod to examine her beauty more. Just then the child opened her eyes, revealing a brilliant deep blue color. Within that deep blue, were specs of pale gold with a white limbal ring around her iris. Creating a truly stunning glow around the area. Her name was easy to think up from there, "Lazuli, no other name fits such a beauty. I can scarcely wait to see her fully grown." She then returned Lazuli to her pod with little thought to the child's cries. However it began to annoy her somewhat, so before closing the pod Lilith began her own lullaby. If one could even call it such, with how aggressive she sounded.

"Envy of the angels, beauty above demons,

hush now and return to rest in silence.

One day when you're grown and ready,

you will aid me in complete compliance.

You needn't empty those deep blue oceans,

with such wasteful tears and cries.

Such energy is better saved and used,

for a later time when our fires blaze the skies.

Envy of the angels, beauty above demons,

rest and dream of screaming demon tyrants.

One day when you're grown and ready,

your voice and battle cries should rival sirens.

Close up those deep blue gems within,

quiet down for your cries I gave no license.

some day you and the others will be ready,

and go through creation in righteous violence."

Surprisingly, the child did quiet down and sleep. Though Absalom guessed in his head that she'd likely not stay asleep long. Lilith noted his skeptical look and chided him, "Now now my child, you know what's to come. It seems there's much left to teach you yet. For now though, we have work to continue."

Absalom simply nodded, and went back to naming the rest of the boys, "Only three left, and two of them look...pretty close. Not even in the same pod and already trying to reach each other. Hmm, Cedron and Hebron will be your names then. Which leaves this tiny little thing here. You really should be bigger though, hopefully you'll catch up in time. Maybe having a name will help, so I'll think a bit harder on this one."

As Absalom did so, Lilith simply finished naming the other girls. Using their eyes to determine it as she took each child out to see them. Placing them all on a cushioned table next to each other. Like their 'sister' Lazuli, each one had gemstone like colors to their eyes. Lazuli was just the only one 'blessed' with more than one color in her eyes.

Lilith sighed at this, "Disappointing, but at least my new favorite daughter can be another leader. All in due time as some might say. Now then let us see..."

She observed the eyes of each girl vigorously. The first one in line from the left had eyes of jade in color, and seemed normal enough to Lilith. This one Lilith named Jadeite, as Jade would be too obvious she thought. That and jadeite was a category of the light green jade anyway; which Lilith felt was accurate to this child. The second one next to her ended up having rose quartz colored eyes, but acted off. Lilith noticed how she seemed to not see when she waved her hand above the little one's head. Lilith could only assume from there that this was blindness, and clicked her tongue in annoyance. The child reacted to it though, and reached out towards her general direction. Lilith glanced around her and toward a thinking Absalom before clicking a few more times in a rhythm. She grinned again as the child finally seemed to figure out where she was. Lilith thus rewarded her with being held a bit longer and chose her name as being Sio. Which was similar to the chemical formula of Rose Quartz, SiO₂. Lilith did do enough tinkering with science to know this much at least. The third girl had black eyes with barely any glow to them at all. What hair she currently had matched her eyes with the same dullness. Lilith barely acknowledged this one from there, but did remember to name her. Thus the child was swiftly named Onyx with little thought put in at all. The fourth child had white opalescent eyes, and a surprisingly lively attitude. That part annoyed Lilith a tad, so she didn't think much else of her. At least the child had lovely eyes, and would hopefully be more beautiful later on as well. Lilith named this one Opal and moved on from there. Finally there was the final 'daughter' to name. Her eyes were completely pale gold, alongside her small bits of hair. Despite reminding her of Onyx, at least she had some glowing going on. This pleased Lilith enough to at least indulge the child's neediness. Tickling the little one with a manicured, yet still clawed finger. While doing so, she named her Pyrite as her eyes and hair weren't a true gold. Lilith then returned everyone to their pods, and left Absalom to name the final male child.

Absalom finally indeed chose a name to the runt of children. Scooping him up once he's sure Lilith isn't watching, "Menahem, this shall be your name."

As he kept holding Menahem, Ale surprised him, "Absalom."

"Hrah! Oh it's you Ale. I've just named him, the runt I mean."

"He won't stay a runt, not if I have a say in it. Though I'd like to hear the name you've picked out." Ale expressed to him.

"His name is Menahem."

Ale smiled warmly, "You know, I think it sounds good for him."

Absalom then handed Menahem off to Ale, knowing she could get him back to sleep easily enough. Naturally she sang her lullaby as per usual to him,

"Mi Atan les daw aud bea a pere,

bea cale aud finst yesh slep's resehn.

Lek ga o yesh freyrs, pangs, aud ma,

thare's ne rez fo an hersh tha's sa.

Bea stor ni thet darnes o nicht,

sas thet liteh o das tist nule farse hinde.

Beaca alle sei desir ni drems,

ferar sae nit thet worl o yesh minde.

Freyr nule thos no thet touside,

fo ere wit mi sei're sae niside.

Fet nule oer troubs ro nemads,

tings alwas gein bette ni darnes.

Bea stor ni thet darnes o nicht,

sas thet liteh o das tist nule farse hinde.

Beaca alle sei desir ni drems,

ferar sae nit thet worl o yesh minde.

Bea stor ni thet darnes o nicht,

sas thet liteh o das tist nule farse hinde.

Beaca alle sei desir ni drems,

ferar sae nit thet worl o yesh minde.

Mi Atan les daw aud bea a pere,

bea cale aud finst yesh slep's resehn."

#Darksiders: Origins #Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Lilith #Absalom #Little Death #Death With A Different Name

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gloomyhearts · 3 years

Text

Mellilla || Owen P. Joyner

Chapter three~ is it a date?

"We'll end up late, come on Val," Dahlia knocked on the bathroom door. Valerie grabs as she exits the bathroom.

"Finally," Dahlia remarks and grabs her bag.

The girls arrived just in time at the gym.

"See you later and good luck," she gave Dahlia a hug and kissed her cheek.

"Love you," the brunette shouts as she enters the gym.

All the girls on the team were ready and waiting for Dahlia as she changes into her knee guard and trainers.

"Okay girls. This is the last game before the state championship tournament next month. We're already qualified but don't take this easy, yeah? We still wanna be leader of the league right?" The girls nod in unison.

"Great so give everything." Everybody put their hand in the middle as they screamed their slogan.

When the team made a short break, until the last ten minutes before the game started. Dahlias graze wandered through the crowd on the stand. Her eyes stopped as she recognized a golden haired boy in the middle of it. His blue eyes, she thought they'd be blue, already glued on her and he began to smile as he saw her sweaty face.

"Why are you staring at Joyner?" Amber interrupted their graze.

"I am not," she shrugged her shoulders and walked away from her not wanting to hold this conversation with her.

It was obvious that Amber had the biggest crush on the boy since they began their freshman year.

"Wait I wanna know," she ran after the brunette.

"He's all yours," she gestures with her hand to go on.

"I know, I know but he's looking at you and not me," she humps.

"Well I can't control his eyes, Amber," Dahlia exclaims, finally leaving her behind.

The game came to a happy end for Dahlia's team and they were making their way into the locker room. A hand grabbing her arm making her stop, she turned around and now she can definitely say that there are blue eyes looking at her.

"Can I help you?" Her eyebrows knitted.

"I.. maybe you wanna grab some food when you're finished," he suggests.

"Ye.. yeah why not. In twenty minutes at the front?" He nodded and went to the door.

Dahlia finished up a few minutes early. Her hair still wet but she didn't want to dry it.

"You're already here," Owen remarks.

"Yeah. Hopefully you don't mind my hair or my outfit," she points up to her ponytail and then down to her leggings and her long sleeve shirt.

"No. No it's alright," he insists. Owen began to lead the way to his car.

He opens the door for her and she hoped in mumbling a small thanks.

"Can I ask you something?" Dahlia turns in her seat.

"You already did but yeah go on," he watches her out of his periphery.

"Why me?" Her graze fell down to her lap where her hands were fiddling with the fabric of her shirt.

"I..I really don't know. We've great conversations and I mean you're the only one that doesn't bother me during rehearsal or any other period of school. You're also not talking about me or my acting."

"Nothing you'd know about," she mutters.

"What," he faces her a millisecond and then back to the street.

"Nothing. Go on," she insists.

"It's like all this doesn't matter to you. That I was away filming the whole summer."

"Which was three years ago and I was still in middle school," she explains.

"Why are you in the senior band?"

"Mr. Trent wanted me to"

"He'd all reasons to," he compliments and she feels her palm beginning to sweat.

"Well thank you, Owen," her cheeks turned pink which caused him to smirk. "But you're really good yourself, Mr Joyner," she teased pushing his shoulder slightly.

The teenager arrived at a diner which had a big neon sign on its exterior boomerang diner.

"I love this place," Dahlia remarks as he parked the car in the lot.

"Good choice," his eyes lit up as he looked at her excited frame.

He walked to her door and opened it, she mumbles a thank you and took his hand as he helped her exit the car.

They entered the diner and the smell of bacon, Pancakes and marble hit their nose.

"I reserved a table," he walked over to the waitress and implies with with two finger the number.

"Yeah, follow me," the two were glued to her heels as they step to the table.

The teenager thanked her as she walked away.

"Soo," Dahlia began, nervously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

"Soo," he mirrors her gesture. "I don't want to be inappropriate and pushy but can I.. can I maybe ask you something," his hand were on the table and played with the napkin holder.

"No. Go ahead."

"Do you and Hunt.."

"NO. No. I mean he's Val's brother and my sisters boyfriend. I wouldn't, no," she interrupted him.

"Good. Good," his tensed body eased a bit.

"Do you have a boyfriend right now?" She just shakes her head.

"That's great," he mutters.

"You're ready to order?" The waitress was back at their table.

"Can I get a grilled chicken salad and a chocolate shake please," Dahlia explains.

"For me please the bacon ranch burger, fries and a Pepsi please."

"Of course. This takes a moment," she left them.

"I took you here to eat some lunch and not only salad," he erupts in laughter which she joined.

"I'm just not hungry." Her phone began to ring. "Just a sec okay?" Her forehead creased and he simply nods. She walks out accepting the call.

"Val? What's wrong?"

"Maybe I'm at the gym right now but yore not there." Shit.

"I totally forgot to write you. We ended earlier and now.. well..," she stutters.

"Iamatthedinerwithowen," she adds in one breath.

"You what?" Her voice becoming louder.

"That's awesome. Have fun. Call me if I'd pick you up." Without another word she ended the call, leaving Dahlia speechless.

She decides to write Emma a quick text that she wouldn't made it tonight and then getting back inside.

"Well that was fast," he comments when Dahlia was seated again.

"Yeah we understand each other without much words," she chuckles shyly, tugging a strand behind her ear.

"Beautiful," he mutters under his breath.

"What?" She heard, she definitely heard what he'd said but she wants to hear him say it clearly.

"Nothing" his voice just above a whisper. He runs his hand through his hair, biting his bottom lip.

It was an understatement calling him cute, he was hot almost steamy.

"Dahlia?"

"Yes?" Her head snapped up.

"Enjoy your meal," he beams towards her.

"You too," she radiates more power than the sun.

"So. How's your salad?" He swallows his bite.

"Really fresh and your burger?"

"You wanna try?" He raises it and hold it to her.

"Well yeah." She bit a tiny piece off. She chew it and swallowed before humming.

"Relly great, a bit greasy, but delicious," she states.

"Wait you got something on your," he gestures on his cheek but she wipes with her index on the point he implied.

"No. Let ne help you," he grabs a tissue and wipes the ranch dressing off of her cheek, they began to flush.

"Thanks," she whispers, a shy smile on her lips. A smirk creeping on his lips.

"So Lia, can I call you that?" She nodds.

"When and where was the first time you had you first date?"

"I didn't have one yet," she shruggs her shoulder.

"You don't think this is one?"

"Well, I don't know. Is it?" She requests.

"If you want to," his eyes observing her features, her small scare on her cheek moves lightly when she smiles. He thinks it cute, she's cute.

"Where do you got this from?" His index fell on the scar.

"That's a fun story, actually. I was in the garden and we have a sandbox. My brother, my sister and myself played in there, a lot, and one time my brother peed in there while we were sitting in it and we laughed so hard. My sister had the shovel in her hand, sways it frantic," she stopped due to her laughter.

"And she hit it right there and I cried cause of the laugher and the pain," he joined her.

"That sounds painful," Owen states.

"It was. It really was but in that moment it didn't hurt, you know what I mean?"

"I totally do!"

"When did you start to play the drums?"

"I wished one for my seventh birthday. At first I didn't started to play but someday I did and I'm glad I did," he winked at the brunette in front of him.

"Yeah kinda," she rolled her eyes.

"You like it," she stole one of his fries and shoved it into her mouth.

"Hey," he grabs her hand pulling it close to his face, taking the last bite.

"You're rude,"

"I am? Who stole the fries?" He rose an eyebrow and she nodds.

His graze wanders through the diner falling on a karaoke machine.

"No no no," her view laid on the item he observed.

"Come on, one song,"

"What's my profit of it."

"A great performance with me," he laid his head into his palms, his elbow resting on the table.

"Well, okay let's do it," he stands up, reaching for her hand and pulling her towards the machine.

"Okay so we've Something just like this; Don't stop me now; Shape of you; Time after time; Closer; Fireflies. What do you wanna sing?" He turns around to her.

"Time after time?" It was more like a question itself.

"Sounds good."

He pressed the song and it was his turn to start.

Lyin' in my bed I hear the clock tick

And think of you

Caught up in circles confusion

Is nothing new

Flashback warm nights

Almost left behind

Suitcase of memories

Time after

He grabs Dahlia's hand spinning her under his arm.

When the refrain came the teenager sung together.

If you're lost you can look and you will find me

Time after time

If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting

Time after time

Now it was Dahlia's time to sing alone, her hands began to shake and he squeezed it lightly, still holding it.

After my picture fades and darkness

Has turned to gray

Watching through windows

You're wondering if I'm okay

Secrets stolen from deep inside

The drum beats out of time

If you're lost you can look and you will find me

Time after time

If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting

Time after time

You said go slow

I fall behind

The second hand unwinds

They stood close together, swaying from foot on the other. Owen takes her microphone, lowering his head to sing the last strophe with her.

If you're lost you can look and you will find me

Time after time

If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting

Time after time

If you're lost you can look and you will find me

Time after time

If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting

Time after time

#jatp fanfic #jatp x oc #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julieandthephantomsimagine #julie and the fat ones #owen joyner fanfiction #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen joyner imagine #owen joyner x reader #owen joyner fic #julie and the himbos #jatp alex #alex jatp #alex mercer

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from-home · 3 years

Text

𑁍 MARK LEE┊ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 / one ˎˊ˗

𑁍 summary : the one where mark lee time travels back and forth throughout the past and future with his crush, (y/n) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 pairing : mark lee x older!reader (by like three years lmao) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 word count : 6.7k ˎˊ˗

𑁍 genre : fluff, comedy (i hope??), minimal angst, time travel!au ˎˊ˗

𑁍 warnings : swearing, unrequited love (i know that shit hurts omg), my humour is ass, mark gives me slight second hand embarrassment in this, bad writing??, i gave up like halfway through this lol, first time writing a fic like this pls have mercy, it’s almost 2:30 am i'm too tired to proof read fuck ˎˊ˗

𑁍 a/n : first chapter of my first ever fic on here hehe - idk when the next chapter might come tbh but hopefully i’ll continue this series for my own enjoyment! in the meantime, uni still kicks my ass >:(( but anyway, enjoy and i hope that at least someone will find joy with this! ˎˊ˗

[ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 : 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝟬 ]

when your pastor dad’s best friend was the biggest nerd in high school and became an eccentric scientist

O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

If he could write like that, maybe Mark wouldn't need to be here in this boring literature class of his. Don't get him wrong, he liked writing, and he liked the way he could express his emotions through a pen and paper. But for the twenty-one-year-old boy who could barely sit still in one place without his mind wandering off into four different dimensions, it was hard to be interested in whatever the professor was rambling on about. Maybe Professor Jung was telling the story of how she met Dylan Thomas' widow's sister's friend's cousin, and how much of an artistic impact it had on her. She had told the story a good three times in the past two months - Mark kept count.

Yeah, writing was fun and all, but literature class specifically was boring and dull to him. "Oh but Mark, why take this course then?" one might ask. But one should also know that it was a necessary course if Mark wanted to earn his oh-so-coveted diploma.

Curse him for majoring in creative writing. His dad always did wonder why writers even bother writing when the bible exists.

But maybe one day, an hour and a half of John Keats would produce him some ideas for a romantic poem that he could write and gift off to his love of seven years... and counting.

(Y/N), the shiniest of all pearls and the most beautiful of all Mona Lisa's, the older woman and her beauty often left Mark stunned and helplessly in love. He first met her when he was fourteen, when she had been introduced as his seventeen-year-old tutor. She was so pretty back then, and still was now. In fact, it was as if she didn't age at all!

Someone who resembled a goddess like (Y/N) deserved only the most romantic of all romantic poems, and Mark Lee made it a mission to be the one to write it for her. He was so helplessly in love with her that he was able to channel his feelings for her into five different written forms: poems, song lyrics, an 'A for effort?' drawing of her, letters, and anonymous blog posts about how "unrequited love hurts".

Sure, those blog posts were anonymous, but as good as Mark thought he was at hiding his feelings for her, everybody in town and their ancestors' spirits knew about the big crush Mark had on her. But no one bothered to tell (Y/N) about her not-so-secret admirer and nobody bothered to let Mark know that his mysterious crush wasn’t as well-kept to himself as he thought it was.

But it was cute. Not the part where Mark slowly died on the inside as each day passed without his feelings being returned (that was pretty sad, everybody acknowledged), but the part where the adoration in his eyes were so clear for (Y/N). Legend went that he held stars in his eyes whenever his gaze rested on the older woman - like, actual stars from the galaxy. Or so the first-hand accounts go.

Mark Lee was a talented and hardworking boy, that much was a shared sentiment by everybody in town. He excelled at all subjects, mowed the lawn twice just because he thought he missed a spot, gave it his all at church every Sunday by rapping and dancing in the name of Jesus Christ until he was reduced to sweat and threatening to rip his dress shirt off - he was a jack of all trades. There were even rumours that whenever it was time for a 'Make a Wish' patient to... make a wish in heaven, he would dress up as Spiderman and visit them in the hospital to make their final dreams come true. So maybe that's why it was so endearing, his one-sided love for his noona. If there was one person who could jump over that hurdle of "just friends" and out of the friend zone, it had to be Mark, the boy who's always gave it his all in everything ever since he moved here from Canada when he was twelve. It was one thing to have this crush that you desperately wanted to be returned, but it was another to have the whole town cheering for you - it said a lot about Mark's character.

Which is why! There was no other perfect test subject for Scientist Kim, the local eccentric scientist who was obsessed with creating his "next big invention". He also happened to be the best friend of the town's pastor (weird combination, everybody knows), courtesy of their high school days and a misunderstanding over a carton of milk. The town's pastor also oh-so-coincidentally happened to be Mark's father, who had lived in Korea for all his life until he moved to Canada so his wife could give birth to baby Mark. He ended up moving back to his hometown, however, thus creating a new relationship between his best friend and son.

Now Scientist Kim - who liked to go by "Cabbage" as a homage to his idol, Charles Babbage - didn’t really care about Mark's painful one-sided love, but he knew the boy could never say no to his father's best friend from high school, so there was no one better to try out his experiments and inventions than Mark. Like, there was literally no one else at all - the whole town swore Cabbage was out of his mind and were still waiting for the day the newspaper would come out with a headline that he's been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Everybody would be disappointed, but not surprised. But such an incident hadn’t happened yet, so for now, Cabbage was still freely working hard everyday to successfully complete and unveil the invention that would propel him to "the front page of every science magazine and a Nobel Prize in Physics".

And it just so happened to be today, October 30th 2020, when Mark received a phone call from his dad's best friend in the middle of class. He was glad he kept his phone on vibrate, but god, was it distracting. To answer or not to? Why now of all times? Right, he forgot that some people don't have anything else to do with their lives other than... creating things that usually end up on fire by the end of it. You know, now that he thought back on it, the last time Mark willingly participated in Cabbage's experiment which involved some tinfoil, antennas, and laser beam machining, it left Mark's right shoe on fire - thank God he had brought a fire extinguisher over to Cabbage’s house with him.

Just that memory alone convinced Mark to ignore the call, nearly forgetting about it once it had stopped ringing if not for the fact he received another call just seconds later. "What is this, an infatuation?" Mark grumbled to himself, before glancing up at the front to see if Professor Jung was distracted enough for him to take this call without her noticing. It didn't help that he sat three rows away from the front. But she still seemed to be rambling on about how much she loved Dylan Thomas' works, and that was a sign for him to accept the call. He kept his voice to a hushed whisper, however, "Hello-"

"Mark! You have to come over!" There was no way Professor Jung did not hear that screech that came from his phone. He glanced up nervously, noticing his classmate's startled gazes on him. But his eyes wandered over to the front, and judging by how Professor Jung was now going on about Dylan Thomas' "attractive appearance", it seemed he was in the safe for now.

"Cabbage, I'm in class, so could you keep it down?" Mark hissed quietly into the phone.

"Right, right, sorry!" While he was still loud even after lowering his voice down, it was more than quiet enough for Professor Jung not to notice, thankfully. "Mark, I've just completed my latest invention. But this isn't just any invention, it's the invention of both my - and everybody's dreams!"

Mark would be mildly curious if not for the fact that Cabbage said that about every invention of his, but he figured that his dad was going to urge him to go anyway, even if Mark didn’t want to. "But he's my best friend, Mark!" Jeez, because how could he possibly say no to the power of friendship?

"Mark? Boy? You still there?" Cabbage’s voice pulled Mark out of his thoughts, and the boy could do nothing but sigh. This was just going to be like every other time - he’d be introduced to some machine that supposedly did one thing, said machine would catch on fire the next minute, and it would all result in Mark going home an hour later.

"Fine, I'll be there. After class in like, half an hour." Mark reassured the scientist, and he swore, he could hear something catching on fire in the background.

"Great!" He then heard rushed footsteps and... a fire extinguisher? "See you then!" And the call ended.

He just couldn’t wait.

When visitors would come to the humble town of Uicheon (의천), located just thirty minutes away by car from the bustling capital city, Seoul, the first thing they would notice was how much the town gave off Suburban American vibes, like walking through a town where the main characters of some random Disney high school movie lived. All single detached houses, varying in style from Country French to Cape Cod with recent contemporary and modern upgrades to those houses by residents who wanted to "spice it up".

Uicheon was a town seen by others where most of the population was upper-middle class. There was nothing wrong with that at all, and actually, the residents of Uicheon were both happy and welcoming of anybody and anyone who stepped foot into town or even took an interest in moving, no matter of their social or economic status.

If anything, the residents of Uicheon - the ones who've lived in the town for longer than ten years at least - were often worried that those who did show interest of moving in inevitably get... scared off. By one particular daunting house.

It was a beautiful town. No seriously, Uicheon had been mentioned on multiple "Top 5 beautiful towns just outside of Seoul that you should visit!" lists published on the internet. And in the beautiful small town where all the houses provide comfort and beauty, surrounded by flowers on nearly every available patch of grass like something straight out of a magazine, there stood a modern house - the only completely modern house in the town - its exterior all... black. Even the big windows were tinted black, and it was obvious that the house stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes, the local kids told stories of how the house was abandoned, and was home to a ghost with a vengeful spirit inside who wanted to steal your teeth. The residents of Uicheon had gotten used to the house's presence already, but it didn’t stop the mutual sentiment of "...really?" amongst them.

And currently, Mark stood in front of its black front doors, ringing the black doorbell and covering his ears as trumpets echoed from inside the house, playing to the tune of the guitar solo of Gun N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine.' Only seconds later, did the door swing open, revealing a robot, half of Mark's height. "SCANNING FACE... HELLO M-A-R-K, MARK." It greeted, well, robotically.

"Hey, Edison," Mark greeted the robot nonchalantly, walking in and shutting the door behind him, "where's Cabbage?" He asked as he took off his shoes and placed it on the nearby shoe rack.

"LOCATING THE DOCTOR..." Edison's eyes turned yellow, colour blinking repeatedly until it turned into a green light and stayed like that. "DOCTOR LOCATED - HE IS IN HIS LABORATORY DOWNSTAIRS."

Because was it really surprising that the house belonged to a guy who invented things for a living and went by the name of a vegetable in a bizarre way to honour his idol?

"Got it, I'll go meet up with him then." Mark informed, heading down the hall until he reached the black spiral staircase that led both to the third floor and bottom floor. It was really nice up there on the third floor though; Mark had been there before and it even came with a movie room! Too bad Cabbage rarely used it because he "doesn't have time for action sequences". So Mark, being the loyal lab assistant/test subject he was, headed down instead to the bottom floor, where he was greeted by a hallway that was lined up with pictures of old men on the walls. "My inspirations!" Cabbage would say. Among them were the likes of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison (who he named his robot after, clearly), Nikola Tesla... you got the drift.

Regardless, Mark never stayed in the hall longer than he needed to - he wasn’t sure if portraits of old men who were dead by now staring at him was exactly his kind of vibe.

At the very end of the hall, all that awaited him was a grey metallic door that had some vapour seeping through the narrow space at the bottom of it. "Shit, I didn't bring a fire extinguisher today..." Mark cursed, grabbing onto the straps of his backpacks and readjusting it on his shoulders. "It's okay, Mark. He hasn't killed you before, so he can't kill you today...?" He wasn’t sure what the logic behind that thought was but you couldn’t blame him for trying to... reassure himself for whatever was about to come beyond those doors. It was funny to him; he had been the lab rat of many of Cabbage's crazy experiments and inventions, yet he kept coming back and every time he did, the jitters were always there.

Maybe it wasn’t because he was scared of death. Because he wasn’t - his father always drilled the idea into his head that God would welcome him with open arms when the time came. At the very least, if Mark died - most likely because of one of these experiments and inventions - he'd be bringing Cabbage with him. But hey, that was beyond the point.

If not the fear of death, then what? Maybe, just maybe... one of these days, one of Cabbage's revolutionary inventions would actually be successful. That for all of the craziness that's going on inside the mad scientist's head, it would finally pay off.

If only he knew when.

Mark reached for the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open and nearly coughing when a whole cloud of mist and vapour rushed at him. "Jeez, Cabbage, what are you doing this time?" Mark coughed into his arm as he took a step into the laboratory. He actually couldn't see the scientist at first, waving his hand around in hopes that he'd be able to swat away the mist and vapour. The space around him eventually did clear, though, revealing...

Nothing?

Instead of the usual grand machine that looked like it was taped together, Mark was greeted with... a clear space. The scientist was over at his desk just up a set of stairs that led to a second floor within the big room. "Cabbage!" Mark called after him, waving his hands to get his attention.

Whatever the scientist was busy doing, it was important enough to leave Mark ignored for a good five seconds. It left him pouting, though the scientist eventually did glance over at the boy, his eyes widening behind his circular glasses. "Mark, boy, there you are!" Cabbage sprang out of his seat, quickly rushing down to the boy he had called over. He held some sort of watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jeez, since when did Cabbage wear Rolex? "Took you long enough! I was bouncing in my seat waiting for you to come over! But in the meantime, I was able to complete another one after confirming my calculations for the twenty-seventh time..."

One thing that nobody wanted to do was sit through Cabbage's rambling, prompting Mark to speak up. "Whoa, calm down, Cabbage. What's going on? Where's your invention?"

"Oh Mark, you're looking at it." Cabbage held out the watch and Mark raised an eyebrow.

"That small thing?" Mark narrowed his eyes at the watch in the scientist's hand. "Are you sure? Last time I came in for one of your creations, it was twice my size and almost killed me." But knowing the kind of person Cabbage was, Mark wouldn't be too surprised if this little watch managed to wreck havoc as well. How ironic it would be, for something so small to cause so much chaos.

Cabbage shook his head, meeting Mark's gaze with oddly serious eyes. "Mark, the creation I hold in my hand can - and will - change the world. If left in the wrong hands, everything could collapse. Society will crumble, the universe will be left in a never-ending stream of terror, reality will no longer exist, the concept of time will-"

"Okay, okay," Mark was left, once again, trying to calm down the frantic scientist, "Cabbage, deep breaths. Tell me, what did you create?" It couldn't be that bad that it left the older man going on some admittedly fear-inducing rant.

"A time travel machine."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

"Alright, I'll see you next time then, Cabbage." And almost immediately, Mark turned on his heel, prepared to just dip out of there.

"Wait, no, Mark!" The scientist called after the boy, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, "Please, hear me out!"

"Time travel, Cabbage!" Mark whirled around, disbelief painted in his features. "Do you even hear yourself right now? That's impossible! This is impossible! Listen, I'm fine with being your test subject but even I have to put my foot down somewhere when things get a bit too crazy!"

Despite Mark's reasonable concerns, Cabbage really didn't feel like letting his lab assistant slip away from the tip of his fingers, especially now of all times. "Come on, Mark! Twenty-seven times! I checked my calculations twenty-seven times! Don't let my hard work go down the drain!"

"Then do it yourself! Time travel yourself!" Mark exclaimed.

"I can't! I need you to go so I can stay behind and collect all the data while making sure you don't get stuck in the future or something!" Cabbage explained.

Unfortunately, Mark's face still showed utter disbelief. "You know, this really doesn't help your case, Cabbage!"

"Fine! We'll do this the fair way then!" Cabbage shouted, holding his fist out.

"Are you serious? Rock, paper, scissors?!" Mark cried out, covering his eyes. If there was one thing he couldn't say no to, it was rock, paper, scissors. Why? Maybe because he boasts a seven-hundred-fifty-two win record, with a mere twenty-one losses in the game. As you could probably assume, Mark was the undisputed rock, paper, scissors king in Uicheon, and only two kinds of people would dare challenge him in the game when it came to bets. Those who were bold and those who were desperate.

"I mean it, Mark! If you win, you can walk right out that door and never look back. I won't force this onto you. But if I win..." If Cabbage won, "you have to at least give this experiment a thought."

"Wait, that's it?" Mark uncovered his eyes, surprise in his voice. But hey, it wasn't a bad deal at all - in fact, the opposite. If Mark won - which he was pretty much guaranteed to - he could leave. If he didn't, he could pretend he thought it over and just say no in the end. "Well shit, say no more, Cabbage." And out Mark's fist went. “On shoot?”

"On shoot." The scientist confirmed, the two men placing their fists behind their backs.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Rock for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"You got lucky." Mark rolled his shoulders back. "But this is it." And back their fists went behind them.

"Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!!"

Scissors for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"I won..." Cabbage glanced down at his fist, mouth left agape, "I-I won! Against you!"

Yikes, better make that record seven-hundred-fifty-two wins to twenty-two losses now.

"I-I..." Mark was still in disbelief, for a totally different reason now, however. "I... I lost?" Under such circumstances too... but seriously! Time travel was a bit too much! "H-Hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be going through with this! Remember, you said if you won, you'd let me think about it!" Mark reminded.

"Yeah, but only because I didn't think I'd actually win!" Cabbage snorted, shaking his head as he tucked the watch safely in the pocket of his white lab coat. "But I am a man of my word, so I'll give you some time to think about it. How about until the end of the day?" He suggested.

"That's a bit too soon, don't you think?" Mark frowned, not really liking the idea of being forced into a decision so quickly.

"Sorry, is that loser talk?" God, that damn Cabbage always knew how to get under Mark's skin.

"Fine, by the end of the day. But don't be surprised if my answer doesn't change." Mark warned. "Now if that's it, I'll be going." Mark huffed, turning around and heading to the door once more. This time, the scientist let him go, but not without some parting words.

"See you soon, Mark."

(Y/N) doesn't know where her life went wrong.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration and a dramatic one as well, but it didn't change the fact that instead of living out in the city and pursuing her dream as a world renown film director, she was stuck in her small hometown, working full-time at a film-rental store.

What was even the point of this store anyway? Everything was online nowadays anyway - who did the owner think he was, trying to compete with Netflix?

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." (Y/N) mumbled to herself from behind the counter, staring dully at the analog clock hung just above the front doors. An analog clock - what year was this again?

"(Y/N)," the voice of the store's owner, Mr. Yoon, was a less than welcoming disruption to her daily "clock-watching" (as she termed it herself), but at least it was a good way to remind her that the day was almost over, "did the kids all go home already?"

(Y/N) nodded, reaching below into the counter for a piece of paper with names and times. "Yup, Jungwoo and Sungchan just finished their shifts half an hour ago." She pointed to their names on the paper, "Signed out here."

"Great. You're in charge of closing up for today then, I have business in the city." Mr. Yoon informed, proudly readjusting his grip on the handles of his briefcase.

"Godspeed, Mr. Yoon." (Y/N) nodded, watching as the man left with a nod. And as the doors closed behind him, the female found herself alone in the store. All alone... which actually wasn't even that uncommon.

(Y/N); twenty-four years old, graduated from a local college two years ago with a degree in Film Studies with hopes of eventually entering the field of film-making and directing. She had high hopes, especially when she graduated. "To the city and A-list I go!" She could remember cheering that day in her car, diploma in hand and graduation gown still on.

But somebody must have forgotten to tell her that the university you went to mattered - and just how competitive the job market was for... pretty much every job.

Now this wasn't to say the college she attended was bad or anything, it just wasn't... one of the SKY universities. And before she knew it, when it came time for job hunting, the positions were constantly being filled out by "better candidates" and after a certain amount of "we regret to inform you"s, (Y/N) decided to go back home.

Home, in the beautiful yet small town of Uicheon. All she wanted was to make it big, live in a nice condo in Seoul and shop at luxury brands. Yet now, she found herself wearing what was possibly a ten-year-old uniform from the back storage with a name tag that was always tilted at a forty-five degree angle no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

But don't get her wrong! She hadn't given up yet - she absolutely would not! Her films might not be playing in theatres or at the Busan International Film Festival, but she still enjoyed writing up ideas and getting some of her co-workers to act out some scenes for her while she filmed eagerly with her trusty camcorder.

The Sony HDR-CX675; this bad boy cost her a good two months of saving up but God, was it worth it. Jungwoo in a wig and Sungchan throwing pens like they were daggers had never looked so good in HD until (Y/N) had gotten her hands on that beloved camcorder of hers.

"Should I film the clock or something?" She sighed, eyes wandering back over to the analog clock. At least she only had an hour left before the store closed, and she usually spent most of that time cleaning up anyway.

And so that hour began, dreadfully long until with only ten minutes to spare, the front door had opened, prompting (Y/N) to rush back to the counter from the storage room, though not without grumbling to herself quietly about what asshole comes into a store ten minutes before they close.

But it wasn't just anybody who came in - it was Mark, the boy who always complimented her hair no matter how lazy she had been to brush it that day. Still, flattery always earned some brownie points in (Y/N)’s books. So she wasn't hesitant at all when she had greeted Mark. "Hey, it's nice to see you here! Renting a movie?" She asked, resting her arms on the counter top.

"Yeah, looking for some Christian-friendly Halloween movie. For the kids at church this Sunday, since Halloween is tomorrow." Mark chuckled shaking his head.

"Let me see what I can find," (Y/N) grinned as she slipped away from the counter and to one of the shelves, "I'll be honest though, you're probably better off showing the kids some cartoon from Netflix or something."

As if Mark was going to tell her that he insisted to his dad on renting a movie, for he wanted to see and talk to the girl of his dreams who currently had her back turned to him. "Well you know us, terrible with technology." Instead, that was all he could muster up.

"I'll bet." She snickered jokingly, turning back to him with a movie now in her hand, "Toy Story of Terror sound good to you?"

"Better than showing them Scream." Mark shrugged before heading back to the counter with her. "I'll pay with debit."

"Mhm," (Y/N) nodded, taking his card and swiping it for him through the machine, "you know the usual, watch within thirty days and return it after those thirty days." She reminded him with a yawn. God forbid Mr. Yoon ever see that.

"Busy day?" Mark offered a small sympathetic smile as he took his card back as well as the movie. "I kind of get it. Cabbage called me in for one of his inventions today."

"Today?" She asked, watching as the boy across from her nodded. "What was it this time?" Everybody in town felt bad for Mark since he was the one always testing out Cabbage's inventions, but at the same time, at least it wasn't them?

"Gosh, you wouldn't believe me if I said it." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "A time travel machine - or like, a time travel watch, I guess."

"Time travel?" The gasp from the female was expected; anybody would be surprised. "I always knew Cabbage was ambitious but definitely not to the extent of time travel!"

"Yeah, needless to say, I said no. Or like, I told him I would think about it, you know?" Mark frowned. "I just can't believe... time travel of all things."

"I'll be honest," there was a smile spreading on (Y/N)’s face, to the slight surprise of Mark, "the idea of time travel sounds so cool though. I'd love to try it out." When Mark had brought up what had happened at Cabbage's house, he didn't think (Y/N) would actually be... interested in the scientist's invention. Definitely not when it was so absurd. But she looked so cute, the way she stood up straighter and her attentive eyes as he talked about it. Gosh, he wished he could tell her that it wasn't worth the time. But her interest was clear, that much he couldn't ignore.

"Then... why don't you try it in my place?" Mark suggested hesitantly. He didn't want (Y/N) and her pretty little self anywhere near those dangerous creations, for concern of her safety. But she really seemed to be interested in this, and this... it was the least he could do.

"Alone? No thanks." She giggled softly, to the relief of the boy who had suggested it in the first place. "Maybe if someone else was with me though. Like a time travel duo!" Hold up - someone else?

"This is your chance, Mark!" His inner voice practically screamed at him. Anything for (Y/N), right? "But it's so dangerous!" His other inner voice tried deterring him from going through with what he was about to suggest. But for (Y/N)! "Then," Mark felt his heartbeat quicken, excitement and hope visible in his eyes, "you wouldn't mind if we did it together, would you?"

If his friends Johnny and Donghyuck were here, they'd definitely be cheering and slapping him on the back. It felt like he was asking her out, something he always dreamed of doing but never really having the guts to do so. Rejection was a scary thought, but as he watched the wide smile that spread onto (Y/N)’s face, he knew he had something to look forward to, even if through... this.

"Of course! it'll be fun!" Score! "Too bad only one person can go though, I assume." She frowned.

And for a second, Mark's hopes had shattered once again. But then he remembered something back at Cabbage's house, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet. "Actually, I think Cabbage mentioned making two watches." After confirming his calculations twenty-seven times. "Why don't we go together?"

"Seriously? You wouldn't mind?" Oh, what Mark wouldn't given just to see that wide smile on (Y/N)’s face every single second of the day.

And with a smile of his own, he nodded. "Of course not, noona."

Love has always been a motivation for man, ever since the beginning of humans. And as time continued on and advanced, a variety of factors had been added to that list of motivation, such as money and power. But one constant above all was always going to be love - something that had always been interpersonal.

So that was why Cabbage wasn't too particularly surprised to see Mark come back to his house later in the evening, this time, with a female companion. And judging by the look of awe on her face, it didn't take much for the scientist to connect the dots. "Mark, you came back!" Cabbage smiled down at the boy from the second floor of his basement lab. "With a friend this time?"

"Right," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing to the scientist, "(Y/N), this is Cabbage as you already know, and Cabbage, this is (Y/N), my friend."

"Hi! It's great to be here! Like, really great." (Y/N) was still enamoured by the many... things going on in the lab, though Mark couldn't blame her.

"Anyway Mark, have you given my invention a thought?" Cabbage inquired, standing up from his seat by his computer and leaning against the railing. "I assume that's why you're here, after all."

Mark nodded. "I have." He confirmed, biting down on his lip. "And I'll do it."

"You will?" The scientist's eyes widened, grin spreading on his face. "That's great!"

"But," Mark began, gaze falling over onto (Y/N) for a short second before back onto the scientist, "with conditions."

"Conditions?" Cabbage raised an eyebrow, pleasantly intrigued.

"Conditions!" (Y/N) suddenly spoke up with a grin, earning a look from the two. "Sorry, it just felt kind of intense so I wanted to ease tensions a bit." She coughed, glancing back and forth between the two. "Please, continue." She urged.

"A-Anyway yes, conditions." Mark cleared his throat before turning to the scientist once more. "I want (Y/N) to come with me. You have two watches, don't you?"

"I do." Cabbage nodded, fishing his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and bringing out two identical watches. "So far, they're the only two I have so I need to make sure that your friend will be extra careful with this."

"She will." Mark reassured without any hesitation. "I know she will, because she's (Y/N)." A man who was claiming everybody's hearts left and right - except for (Y/N)’s though, unfortunately.

Cabbage looked as if he was pondering on the thought for a bit before eventually nodding and making his way down the stairs. "Well, if Mark is vouching for you, I guess it should be okay." Cabbage nodded before gesturing for the two to follow him to the back of the lab, where large screen rested on the wall and multiple smaller monitors on both it's sides, resting on a glass desk. Below it were multiple keyboards, a few touch pads here and there with clearly different functions. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "This is where I'll be monitoring and communicating with you two while you're in whatever time period you land in." He explained, gesturing to his set up.

"What about the watches?" (Y/N) asked.

"I'm just getting to that." Cabbage nodded, reaching for the two watches once again. "Gather around, you two." He motioned for them to come closer. "It looks like a regular analog watch at first, but if you tap the clock face," he did what he had just said, the other two watching in awe as a small digital hologram had appeared in the air, just above the clock face, "it has information such as your battery life on the right hand corner, the date and time you're in, the option to video call me, and the option to switch time periods." He pointed out each detail on the hologram. "Now the problem with the switching time periods is that once you arrive somewhere, you're stuck there for, at a minimum, twenty-four hours before the voltage and particle energies recharge and allow you to travel elsewhere."

"Wait, so you're staying we might be stuck in a different time for a whole day?" Mark asked, a bit of alarm evident in his voice.

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out the proper calculations to make the recharging process quicker but for the meantime... yes." The scientist sighed. "But hey, at least it's not twenty-five hours...?"

"Cabbage!" Mark groaned, running his hand down his face.

"I mean, twenty-four hours doesn't sound that bad." (Y/N) hummed. "I'd love to explore a different time period, really get to know what it was like!"

"See, at least someone's optimistic." Cabbage sent a not-so-subtle look over at Mark. "But anyway, I actually have a quest for you two."

"Ooh, a quest! I feel like I'm in a video game." (Y/N) giggled, and if it weren't for the fact that she was totally digging this right now, Mark would have just straight up left out of fear for his own safety.

"Exactly!" Cabbage nodded eagerly. "Since you two will be going to different time periods, I want you to bring back a memento of some sort from each time period."

"Anything specific?" Mark asked, wanting to make sure he was going into this with full details.

"Yes, for the purpose of analytic purposes due to their high amount of energy." Cabbage turned to the two, a suddenly serious look on his face. "A meaningful item to at least one person you encounter."

The two waited for him to say more, but nope, all he did was stare back at them. Mark ended up being the first to speak up. "Hm, I think you're missing the part where you, oh I don't know, tell us what you mean by ‘meaningful item’??"

"That will vary from person to person, Mark boy." Cabbage sighed, giving an empathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "One person's 'meaningful item' might be a necklace that their mother gifted them, or maybe a letter from a lover for a soldier - everything in life is a variable anyway."

"Wait, then how do we know something is a meaningful item?" (Y/N) asked.

"That's where this last function of the watches come in," Cabbage turned his attention back to the watches, "this icon," he pointed to one of the icons on the hologram screen that resembled a heart, "will allow you to scan a person once you've talked to them. This only works one person at a time though, and it does drain a lot of energy from the watch battery. It'll allow you to see particles coming from objects, like sparkles. The more vivid, bigger and brighter the particles, chances are that's your person's meaningful item. So be careful with who you choose to use it on - once you scan that person, you'll have to find their meaningful item before you can use it again. Not to mention that the longer it takes for you to find the meaningful item, the more energy it drains." He warned.

"Talk about ominous, gosh." Mark sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It'll be exciting though, Mark." (Y/N) glanced over at the boy beside her, a grin spreading on her face. "We're in this together, after all!"

"Noona..." A shade of red coated Mark's cheeks as he stared down at her, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Ahem, and me too." Cabbage interrupted, "Just, I'll be back here handling everything."

"Yes, of course, because where would we be without you, Cabbage?" Mark sighed, feeling a bit salty over the scientist's interruption during his and (Y/N)’s "moment".

"Love you too, Mark." Cabbage blew a kiss his way before handing a watch to Mark and (Y/N) each. "Are you two ready?"

"Wait, we're doing this so soon?" Mark's eyes widened, staring down at the watch in his hands with a bit of fear.

"Better sooner than later." Cabbage shrugged, helping attach the watch onto Mark's wrist and then to (Y/N)’s. "You guys will be fine, don't worry. I'm here, after all!"

"So reassuring, Cabbage." Mark grumbled, about to protest over the quick timing and suddenness of all of this if not for the sudden feeling of warmth in one of his hands. He glanced down at said hand, eyes lingering on the smaller hand that had clasped his own. And as his eyes wandered up to the hand's owner, he swore she was going to be the death of him.

"It'll be okay, Mark." (Y/N) squeezed his hand softly with a reassuring smile. "We're in this together." She repeated.

"Right..." Mark trailed off before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Together." He then glanced over at the scientist. "We're ready, Cabbage."

With an excited smile, the older man nodded before turning to his set up and taking a seat down in the chair. The sounds of his quick tapping against the keyboard keys had Mark worrying with every passing second, but as (Y/N) held his hand, he figured this wouldn't be a terrible way to die. "Adios, you two!" Cabbage called out before hitting one last button. Click!

And as a bright and large flash of light illuminated within the lab, Mark knew it had begun, especially with the way his limbs practically burned and his consciousness struggling to stay intact.

The things he'd do for love, huh?

#nct fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee #nct mark fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark lee x reader #nct #nct 2020 #nct fics #nct x reader #nct angst #mark lee angst

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laurawritesandgames · 4 years

Text

For Beetlelands Week 2020

Title: Write Like the Wind

Fandom: Beetlejuice (Musical)

Rating: T

Ships: Beetlejuice/Adam/Barbara

Prompt: One Bed

Summary: Adam wants to do something for nerd-kind now that he has ghostly powers. Beetlejuice and Barbara help out. Spoilers for The Winds of Winter.

When Beetlejuice returned from the Netherworld, he came back powerful. Barbara wasn’t exactly sure how—the story changed with each telling.

But he returned with enough power to teleport her and Adam pretty much anywhere he could visualize. Thanks to Google Street View, he could visualize quite a few things.

Being able to teleport was very helpful when Adam had a specific request.

The ghosts and demon appeared inside a very fancy home, with sunlight streaming in the windows. Beetlejuice was hovering between Barbara and Adam, holding their hands. Barbara suspected this wasn’t strictly part of his teleportation ability, but it was a nice excuse to hold hands.

The demon shimmered in and out briefly, wincing.

“Everything okay?” Barbara asked.

“Teleporting all the way to New Mexico is a lot. We’re definitely gonna need to stop by a bolt-hole on the way back.” According to Beetlejuice, undead travellers could recharge in places with a lot of “death energy”—graveyards, usually, or famous battlefields.

The clicking of a keyboard drew the three of them to an office where a large, grey-haired man sat in front of his computer.

Adam sucked in a breath. “There he is,” he whispered.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. “Sexy, you’re dead. He can’t hear you.” Sure enough, the writer hadn’t turned around at the sound of Beetlejuice’s voice.

“Oh.” Adam looked a bit disappointed. “I guess I just assumed that he’d be attuned to the supernatural. He’s a master of the sci-fi/fantasy genre! Anyway, let’s go see what he’s working on.” He crossed his fingers as the three of them huddled around the author’s computer screen.

Barbara felt a bit awkward reading over someone’s shoulder, and looked politely aside. She’d never gotten into sci-fi and fantasy the way Adam had; he’d know better than she would what they were looking at.

Her husband’s face fell. “Wild Cards?!” he spluttered. “Wild freaking Cards! I know he only edits the anthologies, but they’re a distraction!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Just write the books, George!”

“I can take over his computer and threaten to start deleting files until the books are done!” Beetlejuice crowed. “Make it seem like he’s got a computer virus!”

Adam’s gaze flicked between Beetlejuice and the author’s computer a few times.

Barbara cleared her throat.

“No, of course not,” Adam said quickly. “Thanks for saving me from myself, sweetie.” He kissed her cheek. He focused on the author, holding out his hand. “Sorry about this.”

The author stopped what he was doing. He saved then exited out of the document. Adam searched through the computer files for a moment then made the author open up a document titled The Winds of Winter.

The document opened after a few moments. ‘Want to pick up where you left off?’ Word asked helpfully, and the author clicked on it. There were a bunch of unfamiliar words and names on the page that showed up.

No sense in me reading this. Barbara decided to look around a famous author’s office. She’d expected him to have a bunch of memorabilia from the TV show, but the furnishings were really quite ordinary. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of bookshelves filled with books.

There was silence from the author, whose fingers were poised over the keyboard.

“C’mon, Sexy, get writing.” Beetlejuice hovered in mid-air, bobbing slightly. He was also eyeing the author’s office, but he was probably wondering where to put spiders.

“Er, there’s no way I can give him partial control, can I? I can’t write the next book!”

“Not how it works, newb.”

Adam sighed. “Okay. Um, my thoughts definitely won’t be his, but maybe I can make a start. Barbara, you took that course in creative writing in college, right? Do you have any tips?” Adam was an amazing man with many good qualities, but pure creativity wasn’t one of them.

“I can try, but I wasn’t writing award-winning fantasy novels back in college.” Barbara dredged up some memories of the TV show. “Maybe you should make the White Walkers show up! You know, inject some tension.”

“It’s an Arianne Martel chapter.”

Barbara had no idea what that meant. “Um…have a dragon show up?”

“I appreciate the thought, but Arianne is going to treat with Young Griff, and the entire point is that he’s a supposed Targaryen that doesn’t have dragons.”

Beetlejuice spoke up. “Have some brothers and sisters bone. Shove a little smut in there.”

“Not only does that not work in this chapter, I’m also not comfortable with that.”

“Or skip to a Dany chapter,” Barbara suggested. “I just want good things for her. How’s she doing, anyway?”

“Not well.” Adam made the author pull up a Dany chapter. He watched the blinking cursor for a few moments, frowning in thought.

Beetlejuice added, “You could write a bunch of dialogue in what’s basically a white room and see where it takes you. That’s an A-plus writing strategy, right there.”

Adam sighed, rubbing his forehead. After a few more moments of intense concentration, he looked away from the computer screen.

The author shook his head, blinking a few times.

“Maybe just having the document open will prompt him to write?” Adam asked hopefully.

The author closed out of The Winds of Winter and went back to a document called Wild Cards_edits.

Adam’s shoulders slumped.

Beetlejuice hovered closer. “Just casually mentioning that we can take out the phone, snap some pics of these new chapters, and threaten to leak them if he doesn’t write the books.”

“Photos of chapters over his shoulder?” Barbara said. “That’s pretty terrifying.”

The demon chuckled darkly.

“Ah. And that was exactly the point.” Beetlejuice might have changed a lot since his return from the Netherworld, but his love of fear and chaos that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“No, Beetlejuice,” Adam said. “It wouldn’t work anyway. What kind of writing would you get if someone was bullied into it?”

“Bleh, you’re no fun. Where to next, Sexy? That Rothfuss guy?”

“Let’s just go home.”

“Have to make a quick stop first, but okay.” Beetlejuice grabbed their hands and teleported them away.

They landed in someplace pitch black. Beetlejuice lit a match of neon green fire, revealing a small underground crypt barely large enough for the three of them. Every surface was draped with dust and cobwebs. A half-open coffin showed patchy, stained velvet. If there was a door to this crypt, the match didn’t reveal it.

Beetlejuice tilted his head. “Ahhh, that’s better.” He frowned slightly, as if listening to something. Barbara couldn’t hear anything. “Yep, think it’s still sandworm free! Lemme just recharge for a while.”

“You’ve been here before?” she asked.

“Nah, but I saw drawings from some ghost hunters back in the Netherworld. Ghost hunters can go topside to bring ghosts back, and they need places to rest, too.”

“So, ghost hunters are ghosts who hunt other ghosts?”

“Yeah, and they’re the worst. The Bureau of the Dead won’t let anyone go topside unless they’re a boot-licker. But it was good to know a few of their tricks when I got banished up here.”

Barbara glanced at Adam, who normally would’ve loved Netherworld lore. It wasn’t every day that Beetlejuice opened up about a place that was, in his words, “total Meh-ville.” But Adam wasn’t even listening. The gloomy atmosphere of the crypt fit his gloomy expression perfectly.

“Hey,” Barbara said softly. When Adam turned her way, she squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to.”

“I guess art just has to happen at its own pace. You can’t force it. I just feel bad for all the other dead readers who’ll never get to read the end of the series. All they’ll have is the TV show’s ending.” He snorted in disgust.

“Maybe you planted a seed. Who knows? Inspiration is a funny thing.”

“And there’s always fanfic,” Beetlejuice added.

“It’s not the same,” Adam said with a sigh.

“Heh, speaking of fanfic….” Beetlejuice hopped into the coffin. “Oh noooo. There’s only one bed!”

Barbara and Adam stared at him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Beetlejuice huffed. “Oh, come on. None of you ever read a romance fic? Hell, a romance novel?”

“No,” Adam said.

“Not really my thing,” Barbara added. She was a fan of biographies and autobiographies of famous people, personally. “And, also? Not a bed. It’s a coffin. And sleeping in a coffin is also not my thing.”

“Jesus, so picky.” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and the coffin became their bed at home. “Get over here.” He hesitated then said, “Please.” Barbara and Adam had had conversations with him about asking instead of demanding; happily, it looked like those conversations were sticking.

Beetlejuice had just done them a huge favour, and a little cuddling might cheer Adam up. Barbara went to join Beetlejuice, shooting a questioning glance at Adam. He followed them, though he was still brooding.

She and Beetlejuice let Adam slide between them as the three sorted themselves out. (Sometimes, Beetlejuice would throw in extra limbs or a few clones just for the added challenge.) After some scooching and wriggling, Barbara’s cheek rested on Adam’s shoulder as she stroked his chest gently and held his left hand. Beetlejuice had one arm over the two of them and was, for some reason, nibbling on Adam’s hair, which sometimes became kissing the top of his head. After a while, you got used to a certain amount of weirdness.

Gradually, Adam began to relax. First, the tension left his shoulders. Then, he cracked his neck and his jaw untightened. (He’d needed to wear a mouthguard when he slept when he was alive. He was always grinding his teeth.)

“Maybe…” he murmured. “Maybe I could write the ending to the books. It’ll be fanfic, but it’ll be something, at least. I can work on that project while the Deetzes are asleep. I’ve never written fic before, but I could try. It’s not like I need to eat or sleep. And I’ve been looking for a new project ever since I finished the model.” His model of the town had a place of pride in the attic, which the Maitlands had cleaned out and repurposed into an arts and crafts room. They still kept up with their hobbies, but they had fewer now that they were busy rehabilitating Beetlejuice and parenting Lydia.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, hon.” Barbara kissed his cheek. “I’ll help however I can.”

“And I can tell you all about what fic tropes you can put in!” Beetlejuice said. “Or what fic tropes we can do ourselves.” He must’ve been thinking about some sexual ones, for he chortled and squeezed Adam’s butt. “Gotta keep the rating PG-13 for Beetlelands Week, but…you know which ones.” He winked at no one in particular, it seemed. Sometimes, he pretended he had an audience; Barbara and Adam just ignored it.

Beetlejuice moved to nuzzling Adam’s throat. After a few moments, he began patting Barbara’s hair.

Barbara giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to be recharging?”

“It’s called multitasking, baby.” Idly, he commented, “Shit, fluff is hard to end. How do you even end something that by its nature has low stakes and minimal conflict?”

What was he talking about? Barbara shrugged.

Adam thoughtfully said, “Maybe with a kiss?”

“Hah!” Barbara couldn’t help but grin when Beetlejuice laughed like that. This wasn’t an evil cackle or a dark chuckle, but an open, cheerful sound that she’d been hearing more and more since they’d started dating. “Perfect! You’re so ready to be a fic writer, Sexy!”

Beetlejuice kissed Adam on the lips, and the cuddling in a false bed in an underground crypt continued.

Not for the first time, Barbara reflected, My afterlife is so weird.

But it did have its perks.

#beetlelandsweek2020 #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #beetlelands #adam maitland #barbara maitland #adam x barbara x beetlejuice

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