#I am in a bad fucking place this morning lads
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#I fucking can’t#I am in a bad fucking place this morning lads#like really bad#mother thought it was appropriate to remind me well at least we’re not charging rent we could be charging you rent#which yes I’m grateful but that sounded like a fucking threat#I had a dream I went back to full time and that solved everything#but I do not want to do that#I’ve tried to kill myself four times in the past year because the jobs so goddamn stressful#I’m still depressed but it’s not as fucking bad as before now that I’m part time#but I’m not making enough and I feel guilty#my husband didn’t get the job last night and I feel like he’s mad at me#I’m trying to apply to places but like#I have an art degree which is fucking useless#nowhere wants to pay anything#meanwhile I’m stuck here and yes I don’t pay rent but I don’t have the best relationship with my parents#I couldn’t handle being screamed at at my job because my manager takes everything out on me#and I couldn’t handle coming home and either being yelled at by my mom or being forced to be her fucking therapist#and now my dad is retired/out of work/doesn’t know what he wants to do#and he’s taking out shit on me too#we’re a super dysfunctional family if you didn’t figure that out yet#so like get yelled at at work get yelled at at home either don’t sleep or have nightmares all night about getting yelled at#I’m going insane#and I feel like it’s all my fault cause I hit my fucking limit and#I actually quit originally did you know?#I got a text two days later where they asked me to come back so I did but I told them part time#my health had tanked because of the stress#it’s better now- it was all from the fucking stress#not that it’s ever been great#idk what to do#I don’t feel like there are any solutions
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Poisoned Empanadas
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Pairing:
Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader
Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader
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18+
Warnings:
Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, sex dream, confusing switching of two look alike characters
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Summary:
It's all fun and games, until you get your motives questioned by a grumpy wizard. Then your subconscious decides to fuck with you.
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Chapter 4 - A - Empanadas de manzana - Chiloé Island, Chile
This is a sweet and tart apple pastry. It's made with cinnamon, cloves, lemon juice, and vanilla, and has a buttery flakey dough.
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Miguel had been very appreciative of the pizza. He had torn into the box and devoured three whole pieces, before you even got your box of chicken wings open. He looked like he was starving and you felt the same way, but you certainly weren't going to act like an animal.
He did look amusing though.
"Oh, shock. It's so good! I've never had pizza like this before. This is amazing!" Miguel finally spoke.
His face was pure bliss as he licked his fingers clean. You swallowed thickly, finding yourself drooling. You weren't sure if it was the image of him eating like a beast, or the fact that he was licking his fingers obscenely clean. You just knew it wasn't the wings that made your mouth water.
You two talked about patrols, recent current events that you thought he should be aware of, and then you went over all the local slang and currently used curse words. His little AI companion was quietly keeping score of all information, and by the time you finished your wings, it was early morning.
After the food was gone, you deposited the packaging and waste into the dumpster behind the pizza joint. When you turned around, Miguel was gone. Nothing remained of his presence, aside from the spot he had accidently dumped a package of hot sauce after he tore it open the wrong way.
You were disappointed that he didn't say goodbye. It was alright though, because now you knew he existed, and you wouldn't be scared to see him during the day in public and accidentaly mistake him for your ex. You decided to start the journey home, swinging back towards the Sanctum.
***
It was about four am when you got in and the building was quiet, aside from the usual sounds of the unusual. The journey to your room was uneventful, right up until you got to the door of the round sitting room that led to your room.
There Stephen and Peter were, books scattered all around them. Peter was upside down, hanging from the roof with a notebook and pen in his hands, while Stephen was floating upside down in front of him, firing off questions.
"Holy shit, boys. You're still awake?" You exclaimed, which threw Peter off enough to slip down a few inches from the web rope he was holding.
"Oh, hey! Yeah! Stephen made me this weird tea, and it kept me up all night. He's been trying to help me study and fall asleep, but I am still awake!" Peter quickly said as he let go of the rope and fell to his feet. His eyes were wide, yet he had dark bags under them. He was wired, and the doctor didn't seem concerned.
"Yeah… My bad, I didn't even think about his Spider physiology. I just dosed him according to his age." Stephen declared with a shrug.
"It's alright, doc! I'm fine!" Peter said while snatching up his books and throwing them into his backpack.
"You say that now, but once it wears off, you'll be tired and burned out. I think it's time you go to bed, my boy." Stephen chuckled and placed a hand to Peter's shoulder.
"Naw, I have so much energy! I could stay up until my exam at 4pm. I'm sure of it-" Peter blabbered on for a moment and he suddenly went limp as the doctor caught him. The lad was out cold and you were worried, until Peter let out a rumbling snore.
"Is he snoring?" You asked. Stephen nodded and smiled as he hauled Peter up into his arms and went over to his bedroom door.
"Yeap. Had to use a sleeping spell. I'll cast a cleansing one as he sleeps, then he can sleep until I get him up for his exam." Strange smiled as he disappeared into the room. He came out moment later and shut the door. The sorcerer seemed amused.
"He's doing that burrito nest thing again. I don't know how he can stand all those blankets and the fireplace on at the same time." Stephen casually remarked as he flicked his hands to clean the room up. There were webs everywhere, which meant Peter had probably literally crawled the walls while being high on whatever the doctor had given him.
"He does that when he's exhausted. It's good ya knocked him out. He's barely been sleeping because of school." You replied as you helped Stephen remove the webbing that was literally everywhere.
"Yeah, I figured as much. So, how was the night watch?" Stephen asked while casually leaning on nothing, the cloak aiding him to do so. He had both arms crossed and an inquisitive look on his face as the room kept cleaning itself. By now most of the mess was gone, leaving just a bit by your door.
"It went well." You gave a short reply and tried to move towards your door. The moment you blinked, you found yourself at the entrance to the round room again.
Fuck. He had more to say and you weren't getting away easily.
"Just well?" Stephen asked with a quirked brow and a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
Oh no. He was doing that weird thing again. The power of deduction. It was one of his many natural talents and you loathed it when he focused that skill on you. Even though he wasn't your dad or anything, he sure fucking acted like one.
"Yeah." You shrugged and gave him a smile. He squinted at you and then chuckled with a gentle shake of his head.
Oh lord… Did he see something? A fault in your expression? Maybe he was using that third eye of his…
"Really? You didn't call for back up. You didn't even check in every hour, like you're supposed to. You must have been busy with something."
Riiight. That. You had forgotten to do so, what with Miguel appearing and then hanging out with him, instead of doing your job. Maybe if you gave up more truth, he'd back off and leave you alone-
"Ah. Well, it's funny you say that… The dark sauce spots on your torso confirms you had food. Wings again, right?" He pointed to the small splotches of the wing sauce and you smiled and shrugged. He kept going, not letting you say a word just yet.
"Also, I can clearly smell a garbage scent. It's not pungent, not enough of it to signal it was on you. But it is enough for me to tell that you were in close proximity to someone that maybe was filthy?" He asked and you tried so hard to keep calm. You'd never avoided telling him the truth before, but alas, you did smell a little. You couldn't even be mad at the comment.
"I was just talking with a friend. We grabbed pizza and wings." You tried to say, and Stephen just chuckled softly.
"Ah, I see… Who was this friend? Were you in uniform?"
"Yes, I was in uniform. His name is Miguel. He's from out of town." You explained and Stephen raised a brow.
"Also, judging by the fact you're not as chatty as you initially were when Peter was conscious, informs me you don't want to talk about this friend. Am I right?" By now the man was so smug looking.
"Fuck! Of course you're right, doc. I don't want to discuss my friend."
He was quiet for a moment as you squirmed, his smirk getting wider.
"Ah, I see. Is it a love interest? It's good to get back out there." He said, that damned grin not leaving his face.
"Uh, sure. Look, doc, I am really tired, and I have to get up early and-"
"No you don't. You planned on staying in and taking over Peter's gaming station. You made a big deal of it and everything with that new small animal town game that just came out. You even made me go to the store and get it." Stephen explained as he produced the game in question and waved it in your face. Damn him and his magic tricks and his stupid perfect memory. You snatched it from his hands and looked away.
His words made you sigh and rub the back of your neck sheepishly. You almost wanted to cry in frustration and exhaustion. Stephen noticed how you got quite stressed. His face softened and he sighed right back as he put his hands up in defence.
"Look, it's none of my business, but when you didn't call or text, I was getting worried, and Peter was as well. He asked me to check up on you, and when I did, you were sitting with another Spider. One that Peter doesn't know and has never seen before. He did, however, freak out, because he looks exactly like your ex…"
"Ah, fuck."
"Is that what Jake does at night? Is he a Spider-Folk and just hid it from you? I ask, because I only had a visual, and no audio. I remember you telling me about his peculiarities, before. I want to make sure you're safe. Peter was all ready to suit up and go kick his ass."
"May I sit down for this?" You huffed and motioned to the lounger. Stephen rubbed his face and nodded.
"Okay, look… The guy I was talking to looks like Jake, but he's not. He has proof that he isn't. Jake has some Egyptian symbols on his left arm, this guy did not." You said as you drew out the symbols on a piece of paper.
Stephen watched as you copied down the tattoo. His brows furrowed as you managed to write almost each symbol correctly from memory. Once he was done reading them, his brows shot up.
"That's… You're sure of the tattoo Jake has?" He asked as he took the paper and squinted at it.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry those pictures suck."
"They are actually quite good. You only made a mistake on this one, at the end. It's supposed to have a different bird to it, but otherwise, it's surprisingly accurate." He explained softly.
"Well, what does it say? Some lame ass thing, like 'live, love, laugh' or something?" You asked.
"Uh, yeah. It's very close to that, but in more words." Stephen huffed.
He had a look of concern on his face, which betrayed his words. He tried hiding it by rubbing at his tired looking eyes. You could tell he wasn't exactly telling you the whole truth, but he was tired and you were willing to drop the whole conversation, just because you got to skim over who you were with. Turning away, you hoped that was the end of the talk, when Stephen shifted in his seat.
"What's his name?" The doctor suddenly asked. It made you freeze on the spot.
"I… I don't want to out him"
"I won't tell Peter, or anyone else. I just want to make sure he's not on my watch list."
"Oh… Okay… His name is Miguel O'Hara."
The moment the Spanish Spider's name was mentioned, Stephen crinkled his nose.
Oh shit. Was Miguel on his list? If he was, that meant you had an obligation to help the wizard find and catch the new Spider. It would be so easy for Stephen, and you didn't want to have to go hunt this poor man down…
"No idea who that even is." He finally announced and gave a long yawn. It encouraged a yawn from you, and you gave him a smile.
"So, are we good? May I go to bed now, doc?" You asked while rubbing at your face. The wizard moved forward and gave you a weak smile.
"Sure… But, please don't go jumping into anything blindly. I know how much you miss Jake, and trying to fill that void with a look a like, doesn't help. Trust me, I know." Stephen patted your shoulder and turned away to leave.
"Yeah…" You muttered and went into your room.
***
It should have been warm, but it wasn't. It wasn't cold, either. It felt like the absence of both and it wasn't bad or good. It felt like a dream, and maybe it was. Everything was off, like an artificial intelligence program that was trying really hard to replicate reality and failing only slightly. It was enough to know it wasn't real.
It was dark, but everything was crystal clear and it was breathtakingly beautiful. A rolling landscape lined with buildings of all sizes and shapes, colors, and lights. They went on forever into the sparkling night like an 80s retro synthwave album cover.
"It's amazing to look at, isn't it, doll?"
That voice.
You knew it anywhere. The distinct gravelly drawl was thick with a mix of Spanish and American tones. That was unmistakably Jake Lockley's voice. Hearing it now, made you feel stupid that you ever thought Miguel sounded like him. They were somehow two entirely different sounding accents, even though their voices were nearly identical.
"But of course, none of it compares to you, mi estrella." As he spoke, your vision blurred a little as you were turned to look at him.
He was stunning as he sat there in a grey tux, his legs dangling from the ledge where he sat. He had his customary bloodied plaster over the bridge of his nose, and his hair was slicked back with a few stray curls over his eyes. It was weird to see him lacking his hat, but he was wearing those gloves he was so fond of.
You tried to speak, but unfortunately nothing came out, save for a sigh. Jake's grin got wider and he tilted his head, almost looking past you. He looked so crisp and clean, when you were used to him looking like an overworked cabbie. Sure, he did clean up well, but never like this.
The suit was just too perfect. Not a detail out of place. Everything an expensive suit should have, was there. Dress shirt, tie, vest, pocket square, and pants. Even his shoes were tailored, looking like a nice shined up Italian leather. Everything was that rich charcoal shade, with the tie, shirt, gloves, and pocket square all being black.
The small detailing on the suit was phenomenal. The patterns on the fabric all appeared to be related to his interests in regards to Egypt, with everything from hieroglyphics to stylized patterns from that time period. It was subtle and stylish, but it was throwing you off.
"I miss you, you know. Every night I think about you. It helps to keep me going, knowing you'll be there when I get back." He murmured softly as he reached out to take your hand.
You looked down and felt your heart beating wildly in your chest. He was always so romantic, you know, when he was around. Of course this dream was projecting that positive trait. Missing him felt awful, and boy did you ever miss him.
Jake took your hand to his lips as he dipped his head down to kiss it. You squirmed, trying to will yourself to take your hand away, but you didn't budge. Jake took it as a sign to keep going and he pulled you closer, kissing his way past your wrist up your arm, and to your shoulder. It shot a shiver down your spine as your body reacted to him the way it always had.
"Do you know why I call you, 'mi estrella'? I consider you like the sun, and myself the moon. You're so brilliant and warm, and your greatness shines so brightly. It reflects onto me, making me feel like my heart is full." In the blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting in his lap as he husked out romantic words of adoration to you in Spanish.
You didn't remember doing so at all. His hands were roaming all over you, his rough voice groaning into your ear. His kisses had moved to the spot by your ear, nibbling, sucking, and licking the skin there. Every touch and every whisper was setting you aflame. It was so familiar, it felt safe, and you gave in to the motions of the experience.
Just as you surrendered to the dream, everything decided to go screwy. The night sky and the lights of the city all went dark. A low growling came from behind Jake, and when you looked, there were two small red dots staring at you. When you blinked, everything shook, and then they were gone.
When you looked back at Jake, he had changed subtly. At first you didn't quite know what it was, until he opened his eyes and shot you a toothy grin.
Sharp fangs and twinkling crimson eyes shown back at you.
"Don't think about him. His pretty words mean nothing when he keeps breaking your heart." Miguel's distinct voice hit your ears. You felt a ripple of heat go through you when you realized you were still in the same position you had been with Jake.
Right in Miguel's lap.
"Miguel." The words came out soft, like a whimper as you felt Miguel pull you closer. He whispered your name and dipped his head down to capture your lips. You closed your eyes, sighing happily as you felt him tip you backwards.
"Él no te merece." He groaned as he pushed firmly against you.
Oh.
Ooohhh…
Things sped up, like a choppy and thrown together home movie. Miguel's hands seemed like they were everywhere and his mouth was busy nipping at your neck. You could feel the drag of his teeth along your throat, which made you shudder at how easily he could tear it out if he so wished.
The scene switched to him tearing your clothes off, starting with your top at the arms. He started out by slipping your gloves off and throwing them behind him carelessly, then moved on to popping one of his claws out and slicing your sleeve, all the way up to your neck. He did the same to the other sleeve and then sliced downwards, going carefully, yet dangerously close to your skin.
"So beautiful… Hermosa." Everywhere he cut open, his mouth followed suit as he kissed and licked at your flesh. He was passionate as he gently rutted against you. You could only whimper, whine, and squirm as he worked, tearing and peeling your suit away from your body.
Your pants were swiftly taken from you, and somehow Miguel was also lacking any attire. The moment didn't last much longer, because he quickly kissed you as he grabbed at your thighs and hoisted you up to meet his hips. He was quick to kiss down to your neck again, this time biting and sinking his fangs in.
Pleasure rocketed through your body as he filled you just slow enough for you to get used to the feeling of him. He felt so good as he hit the back and stayed still. He growled, while you gasped and wriggled in his grasp, but finding all it did was move him around inside you.
He started to move, slowly at first, but the dream chose to slow it down even more as he increased his pace. You soon found nothing but a cloud of pleasure and felt his claws digging into your hips as he pounded into you. It didn't hurt like you thought it would, and instead, it was a wonderful sting of euphoria as the man ravaged you to his liking.
You had no idea how long this lasted for. Every time you closed your eyes and opened them, you were in a different position, but it was still Miguel. Nearly all of them where he could reach your neck, he had bitten you each time, and each time, it filled you with a thrill like no other.
All the noises were down right pornographic.
Skin was slapping against skin.
Lungs burned as you made obscene noises.
Miguel snarled and growled like a beast as he kept up his assault on you.
A much welcome assault, mind you. You felt so good through the whole thing. Every part of you reacted accordingly.
But as dreams go and flow, they would eventually end.
There was the most wonderful climax you had ever had in a dream, and then everything was black.
"Don't forget about me, mi estrella."
Those words hit your heart, and everything suddenly felt heavy.
Note:
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Series Master List
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Rise and live again as my fist of vengeance. My Moon Knight
Is written on Moon Knight's pants. Stephen reads something similar in the hieroglyphics the reader presented to him.
Estrella is 'star' in Spanish. Hermosa is 'beautiful'. Él no te merece. is 'He doesn't deserve you.'
I use Google translate, so if it's wrong, sorry about that. Feel free to correct me.
***
Special thanks to:
Beta Reader:
@einno-arko
Proof Reader:
@iceclaw101
Ideas and discussion:
@einno-arko @howaboutcastiel @theaussiedragon
***
Tags:
@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog
#moon knight#marvel moon knight#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley x y/n#jake lockley x you#18+ fanfic#jake lockley x fem!reader#jake lockley smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#jake lockley x spiderwoman!reader#spider man 2099 smut#spider man 2099#moon knight smut#poisoned empanadas
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So so so so intrigued by your Dad!Higgins fic. I hadn't really thought about Higgins in that way but despite bad advice to Jamie about his dad, Higgins is one of the best examples of dad figure that we see on the show
If you want to share any more then please do!
Ahhh thank you! So I am on a mission to just give Jamie all the dad figures and the same thing hit me. Like he does give bad advice but we see so much more of Higgins being a supportive figure to the lads and even in S1 genuinely caring about them!
Despite you asking for Dad!Higgins, I've just finished a scene that's been haunting me this morning with something from that fic that might be even more important ... Mum!Julie 😂 Julie who's husband announces he is bring home an injured and troubled 23 year old who is known for chatting shit and trying to antagonise people. Julie who looks at this boy and sees a lost teenager under all the posturing and immediately goes into "I'm going to parent this boy so hard he won't know what's hit him" mode. Julie Higgins has raised 5 boys and has a football team invade her house every Christmas Day, what's one more son?
“Oh fucking hell,” Jamie groaned and Higgins watched him slowly straighten and fumble for the remote as soon as his own face appeared next to the Sky Sports pundit.
“Language Jamie,” Julie softedly scolded. Jamie turned the TV off and froze in place. He turned to look at the table and frowned.
“Um, what?” he replied, straightening up and throwing the remote onto the cushions next to him.
“Don’t swear in front of the children,” Julie prompted, returning her focus to her laptop. Stevie and Dana both looked at Higgins in shock and then at each other with slightly fearful glee. It had been a long time in this house since someone had talked back to Julie. If Jamie had an ounce of sense in his body he would apologise and never say another swear word in Julie’s presence. Instead, he scoffed and leant back on the settee.
“Ain’t nothing they haven’t heard before I can assure you and I’m an adult, in case hadn’t noticed, I can say what I want,” he smirked, waving it off dismissively.
“Not in my house you can’t. For as long as you are staying here you need to follow my rules. Therefore no swearing when the children are in the house,” Julie closed her laptop, turning in her chair to hit Jamie with the patented mum glare. Jamie’s smirk shifted through a fair few different emotions before his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“That’s bullshit. Free speech and all that,” he huffed.
“Last warning Jamie. You don’t have to stay here if you are not willing to make some concessions to sharing your space,” Julie glared back.
“Fuck it, then I won’t!” he levered himself up from the settee with his good arm and stormed past the table to the door. “Didn’t even want to be here anyway. Might as well be at home,” he grumbled, kicking on his shoes. “Fuck all of this,” he exclaimed and then the door swung in his wake. Higgins jumped as it slammed shut. The house was left in silence.
“I’ll go after him,” Higgins sighed, placing his hands down on his knees and sighing as he prepared to get up. Julie pressed her hand down on top of his.
“Give him time to calm down,” she sighed, smiling sadly. “Boys you mind going to your rooms to play for a bit,” she suggested but all three of the present Higgins men knew it wasn’t a selection. They left their homework scattered around the table and sprinted off up the stairs pushing each other.
“I’m sorry. We can tell him to go,” Higgins muttered. He had hoped more than anything that being in a positive atmosphere might somehow fix Jamie like Ted always thought it might but it seemed not. He was still the smug and sarky fool that Richmond knew.
“I don’t want him to go. I don’t even particularly care about the swearing love,” Julie chuckled. Higgin’s head shot round to frown at her. “Oh Leslie he’s a hundred percent right. The boys have definitely heard worse language than that and Jamie is an adult and adults swear sometimes,” she added with a shrug.
“So why did you make a scene about it?”
“From what you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen, Jamie’s probably never been parented. It’s one of those stupid things about the football system. You control these kids then move them from their parents often as teenagers and give them so much money, so so much money, and fame and then expect them to make good choices. Mentally Jamie is around 15 but with the resources and freedom of a 23 year old celebrity. Someone needs to set him boundaries and show him that no matter what he can do with his right foot, he needs to show respect if he wants to be treated with respect. And that is something that a parent should teach their child,” Julie finished her monologue and thesis on childhood development. Higgins just stared at her. How on earth had he got so lucky? “Now I am going to open that bottle of incredibly expensive wine that Jamie got us. We are both going to drink a glass and pretend that this is a blissfully child free day and then you are going to go find Jamie,” she kissed him on the cheek.
“Will he be fine out there? He doesn’t know the neighbourhood that well,” Higgins frowned but Julie’s kiss moved to his lips.
“Well as he explicitly told us, he is an adult. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she smiled.
#candle writes#ted lasso fanfic#jamie tartt#ask box is always open#leslie higgins#julie higgins#gfylm tag
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My Star
MINORS DNI !!!!!!!!!
♡ [a/n]; I am so fucked up from S2 still oh my god 😭💔 huffing so much copium you have no idea lads
✧ Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley
✧ Word Count: 4,781
✧ Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy a nice day out of town. Crowley has never told Aziraphale that he cannot see the stars. Eventually all of this leads to sex somehow.
✧ Warnings/Tags: third POV, Crowley snake eyes theory, minor emotional angst, fluff, eventual smut, Crowley has a vulva, Aziraphale has a penis, softdom Aziraphale, oral (m receiving), praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, orgasm (f and m), queer sex, foreplay, beta read, lmk if I missed any!!!!
✑ You can find all my stories here!
✑ My request guide is here (and you can place a request here)!
-
It was a nice day. Crowley hated those. Well, not really- he hated them in the same way that landlords hated affordable housing. A habit created by the profession, a habit that sticks with you long after you’ve resigned. A habit that you can’t quite shake.
No, good days weren’t all that bad, really. After all, they were a perfect excuse to spend time with Aziraphale. Though Crowley again noted that he didn’t much need excuses anymore. Another habit he couldn’t quite shake.
Aziraphale had called that morning and proposed that the two partake in a road trip to somewhere a town or two over, and who would Crowley be to refuse such an offer? He adored driving his angel around in the Bentley.
They had set off at around 10 and had arrived in a quaint little town around noon. They had lunch in some small local cafe and Crowley had indulged in an extra, extra, extra, extra, extra long black coffee while Aziraphale had tried an assortment of the establishment’s homemade pastries and cakes.
Crowley didn’t care much for eating but couldn’t help himself from trying a nibble here or there at Aziraphale’s earnest request. He simply couldn’t find it in him to refuse the angel, and the bright smile he always received for gingerly consuming a morsel of whatever Aziraphale had offered made it all seem worth it in the end.
They had spent the rest of the day mostly walking hand in hand through the streets, Aziraphale occasionally dragging them into lame little knickknack stores or local grocers. Now they were meandering around a small park together, Crowley listening intently as Aziraphale chattered away about some book he’d been reading.
Crowley glanced at his watch when a moment of quiet passed over them. “We’d better be on our way, soon.” He pointed out. “Getting late.”
Aziraphale seemed to become nervous for a moment. “Oh, is it? I hadn’t even noticed. I suppose we should.”
They continued on their lap around the park until the Bentley came into view, pulled up in front of a very obnoxious-looking “NO PARKING” sign.
Aziraphale pulled ahead suddenly and moved to stand in front of Crowley, their hands still linked.
“…Yes, angel? What is it?” Crowley asked suspiciously after a moment.
“I was just wondering,” Aziraphale began, trying- and failing miserably- not to fidget with Crowley’s hand. “You drive the Bentley an awful lot.”
“Yes. It is my car, funnily enough.”
“Well, I have driven it once, so doesn’t that technically make it our car?” Aziraphale argued.
“I don’t like where this is going,” Crowley grumbled.
“Come now, Crowley. Always so dramatic,” Aziraphale teased. “Won’t you let me drive the Bentley home just this once? Please? You’ll be right there to monitor my speed, and there’ll be no funny business on my end, I can assure you. I know you take driving the Bentley very seriously.”
Crowley couldn’t half tell if Aziraphale was mocking him or not.
“Ffff… ffffffine,” Crowley all but spat out through gritted teeth. “But you will not make her yellow,” he said firmly.
“Of course not,” Aziraphale agreed, bringing their entwined hands up so that he could place a delicate kiss on Crowley’s knuckles. The demon couldn’t stay mad at him no matter how hard he tried, using his free hand to push his glasses farther onto his face.
Before Aziraphale could point out the sudden redness in his complexion Crowley moved to open the driver's side door for him.
“Come on, then. Let’s get this over with,” he said.
“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale replied warmly, climbing into the car before Crowley closed the door behind him again.
【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】
It had taken barely ten minutes before Aziraphale took a turn that Crowley wasn’t anticipating, throwing the demon for a loop.
“Uh. Angel. You do know that we didn’t take this turn on the way out here, don’t you?” Crowley had sat up noticeably straighter.
“Yes, Crowley, I am aware,” Aziraphale responded carefully, continuing down an unpaved country road.
“There’s a sign right there that says ‘private property’. Can you see it?” Crowley pointed to somewhere ahead of them from behind the windshield.
“Yes, dear, I can see it. Rest assured this property has been abandoned for many years- I doubt it is even owned. Though, I find your comment amusing. You’ve never been one to obey the rules, hmm?” Aziraphale gave his demon a sly smile.
“Yes. Sure. I’ll give you that one, but it doesn’t make me any less worried about where you’re taking us.” Crowley had begun to tap his finger nervously on the dashboard. He didn’t like changes in plans very much.
They had begun approaching the end of the lane and a chained-closed gate was in sight. There was another one of those “PRIVATE PROPERTY” signs attached to the front of it.
Aziraphale waved his his hand rather quickly and suddenly the chains fell to the ground, the gate beginning to push itself open through the overgrown greenery.
“Don’t worry, dear, I won’t get a scratch on the Bentley,” Aziraphale seemed to voice Crowley’s concerns, patting the steering wheel affirmingly.
They drove through the gate and continued until there was no longer a road to drive on, ending up atop a grassy hill that was gentle enough of an incline that Aziraphale could get the car to the top. When they stopped and Aziraphale put the car into park, Crowley looked at his watch again.
“Angel, I don’t know what you’re planning, but if we don’t leave soon we’ll be driving home in the dark. I know you don’t like it very much when we drive at night.” Crowley looked up to see that Aziraphale was fiddling anxiously with his hands.
“I know, dear. I do appreciate your concern, though.” Aziraphale smiled brightly and leaned over to Crowley, putting a hand on one side of the demon’s face as he leaned in to give his beloved a peck on the lips.
When he pulled away Aziraphale noticed that Crowley seemed flustered again. He suppressed a chuckle.
“Stay here a moment, will you? And please close your eyes.”
“Ngk,” Crowley complained, though was too dazed to argue further as he obliged his angel and closed his eyes.
“And no peeking!” Aziraphale added, and Crowley heard as he exited the car and his footsteps began to trail away.
Some amount of time had passed before Crowley was jolted awake by the passenger side door opening. He caught himself before he could fall out of the car, thankfully.
“Darling, were you asleep?” Aziraphale asked. “I wasn’t gone more than five minutes.”
“Nonsense,” Crowley snapped. “Just caught me off guard, is all.”
Aziraphale tried to hide a playful smile behind his next words. “Well, come on, then.”
Crowley stepped out of the car finally and closed the door behind him, taking a moment to stretch his stiff limbs in the dusk air.
“Right, then, what is it you wanted us out here for, angel-?” Crowley stopped short once he’d laid eyes on what was ahead of him.
Aziraphale was standing beside a large picnic blanket that had been set out- tartan, of course- with a picnic basket and a couple of wine glasses laid out by battery-powered candlelight.
“Oh.”
“Is it too much?” Aziraphale had begun to fret. “I can miracle it away if you’d like,” he added quickly.
Crowley stood still for a moment, stunned.
“Oh, you don’t like it, do you? I’m terribly sorry, my dear. I just thought that it was such a nice day and it was supposed to be a clear night as well, I imagined that maybe we could do some stargazing and look for those odd star patterns that the humans had made up- oh, what are they called?” Aziraphale had started muttering to himself in a tizzy.
“Constellations,” Crowley added suddenly, causing Aziraphale to fall silent.
Aziraphale walked tentatively closer to the demon. “Yes, well, I know how much you love your stars… and I know they are often obscured by the city smog and light pollution, so I thought that… maybe… you would have liked to come out here to see them. With me.”
He reached out to take Crowley’s hands.
“But if you’d rather we go home then I do not mind.” He smiled softly, almost apologetically, and Crowley faltered for a moment.
Crowley glanced up at the night sky. It was dark. Like it always was. Dark and empty. Save for the moon, ever-present and mocking him with every night that passed.
He looked back down to Aziraphale, meeting his gaze. How could he tell him without breaking his heart? Crowley knew that his angel would feel terribly bad. Not just about the botched date idea. About how Crowley had been denied the beauty of the stars he had created. All these years and Aziraphale had never known.
At least he would understand why Crowley didn’t often like talking about the night sky.
“I- No, angel. S’great. Lovely. Looks very lovely. Thank you for this.” Crowley moved to place a kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead.
He didn’t want to ruin the moment now.
Crowley led Aziraphale over to the blanket and they both sat down, the demon moving to pour them both some wine.
“How long have you been cooking this one up for, then?” Crowley asked, gesturing around them.
“Well, it has been on my mind for a while, now…” Aziraphale took the glass offered to him and gingerly took a sip from it. “And there’s been a bout of good weather lately, so I started planning this at the back of my mind. Scouting for places we could stargaze from, not too far from a quaint town where we could spend a lovely day out. And not to toot my own horn, but I do believe that everything turned out quite nicely.”
Crowley couldn’t agree more. It had turned out quite nicely, perfect, even. He suppressed a sigh as he spared another glance above, seeming frustrated.
“I’m sure you’d be able to see an awful lot more if you took your glasses off, dear.” Aziraphale pointed out suddenly. Crowley realised he had been more or less scowling at the sky and turned quickly to take a large gulp of his wine.
“Come here, darling,” Aziraphale said softly, and Crowley slowly turned to look at him. The angel reached up to grab the temples of his glasses, pausing for a moment, before Crowley bowed his head slightly in compliance.
Aziraphale delicately removed his glasses to reveal that Crowley’s eyes were brimming with tears. Crowley glanced at the sky again. Empty. Dark. The same as it had always been for the past 6000 years.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale began, the demon dragging his eyes back down to look at him. Aziraphale’s voice was frail and worried. “What’s wrong, my love?”
They sat in silence for a moment as Crowley thought, his head held gently in Aziraphale’s warm hands.
“I… I can’t see them.”
Aziraphale was quiet.
“The stars, I mean,” Crowley clarified. “I can’t see them.”
“Really?” Aziraphale’s voice was small and somewhat apologetic and Crowley felt his heart clench. What a perfect way to derail a date- make your boyfriend feel guilty about something nice he tried to do for you. Not a regrettable decision whatsoever. Nice one, Crowley.
“Yeah. S’my eyes. After I fell, she-” Crowley stammered for a moment before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Heaven took my eyes. Changed them to these odd snakey ones.”
There was a small pause as Aziraphale scrambled for something to say. Crowley thought of something first.
“Did you know that snakes can’t see the stars? Their eyes are better suited to the dark but they can’t focus on small details very well. Guess that includes stars.” Crowley laughed dryly, a tear spilling down his cheek.
Aziraphale wiped the tear away with his thumb. “Oh, my dear, I’m so- I’m so sorry. That’s horrible. And especially after you… and all this time… oh, dear boy…”
“S’okay. Not your fault, Angel. You weren’t to know.” Crowley felt bad for dumping this onto his angel so suddenly.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, dear?”
“Dunno. Didn’t want to think about it, s’pose. Makes me sad sometimes.” Crowley chuckled again and moved to put his hands on top of Aziraphale’s.
“S’not all bad, though.” Crowley sniffed, trying to recompose himself. “I can still see one star. The most important one, if you ask me.“
“Oh, really?” Aziraphale perked up, turning to look back up at the sky expectantly. “Which one?”
“You,” Crowley replied breathlessly. Aziraphale faltered as he processed what his demon had said.
“Oh! Well… thank you very much, my dear,” Aziraphale replied meekly, pulling his hands away and turning to hide his flushed face. “Though I’m sure I couldn’t be nearly as bright as the stars you’ve created.”
“S’true. Dwarf my stars in comparison, you do.”
“Oh, how you charm me, my beloved serpent,” Aziraphale replied warmly.
“Look at me, angel,” Crowley cooed. He grabbed Aziraphale’s face gently with one hand and turned him.
Aziraphale’s eyes shone brightly in the moonlight, his face flustered with adoration.
“There’s my star,” Crowley purred delightfully. He leaned over until he was on top of Aziraphale, the angel holding himself up on his elbows by this point.
“Crowley,” he chided, though made no attempts to stop the demon as he leaned down to place a delicate kiss on his lips.
“What’s wrong, angel?” Crowley said, pulling away and moving to straddle Aziraphale’s hips. “I mean, I can stop if you want me to…” he teased, though Aziraphale knew that Crowley was absolutely serious.
“Well, I never said that…” The angel replied sheepishly. He leaned upwards to kiss his partner again and Crowley deepened the kiss ever so slightly.
“That’s my angel,” Crowley murmured against Aziraphale’s lips. He tangled the fingers of one hand into white curls while his other hand began trying to pull off the angel’s coat.
“We should really find somewhere more private,” Aziraphale crooned, gasping slightly as they parted.
Crowley chased after his lips, his next words dripping with longing and that of someone whose mind was clouded with need. “Sure. Yeah. ‘Course. S’whatever you want, angel,” he said breathlessly.
They met each other again in the middle and Crowley used his free hand to snap his fingers, and at once they were on the large bed in Crowley’s apartment. Aziraphale trusted Crowley to take care of what they’d left behind on the hill.
Crowley shouldered off his jacket and Aziraphale sat up to do the same, though while the angel miracled his waistcoat and outerwear into a neatly folded pile on the nightstand, the demon threw his haphazardly across the room. Their shoes quickly followed in similar manners before they both returned to the bed, kneeling in front of one another.
Crowley began to unbutton his shirt and found himself with his lips on Aziraphale’s again. Aziraphale had moved forward and pressed a thigh between Crowley’s legs, causing the demon to let out a loud and involuntary moan which he was bound to deny in later discussions.
Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s waist with both hands and the latter began to loosen the angel’s bow tie. Then suddenly Aziraphale’s mouth was on Crowley’s exposed neck, kissing trails up and down his jawline and back and forth along his collarbone.
“Ngk, angel,” Crowley moaned again, faltering for a moment before he finally finished unbuttoning Aziraphale’s shirt.
“What is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, sucking lightly at a particularly sensitive spot on Crowley’s neck.
“Ngh,” Crowley replied.
“Come, now, use your words for me, lovely.” Aziraphale pressed his thigh further between Crowley’s legs and felt him begin to grind softly against it. “Now, one more time for me, dear. What do you need?”
“Y-You,” Crowley eventually moaned out. “You, in me.”
“Now that’s a tad crude, don’t you think?” Aziraphale teased, but Crowley didn’t much care. Instead, he responded with another strangled sound that seemed just as eager to escape his throat as all the rest before it.
Crowley’s hands had found their way back to Aziraphale’s hair and the angel delicately began to trace his fingers along the waistband of Crowley’s pants. His hands eventually met at Crowley’s belt buckle and made quick work of unfastening it before moving to unbutton his pants next.
Crowley groaned into Aziraphale’s hair and gripped his shoulders. He opened his mouth to say something but all thoughts were lost the moment that Aziraphale slipped his hand down the front of what remained of Crowley’s pants, delicately pressing a finger to his slicked pussy.
“A-Angel,” Crowley moaned out, stopping himself from rolling his hips into Aziraphale’s hand.
“So wet for me, hmm?” Aziraphale murmured into his ear. It was all Crowley could do to nod absently in agreement.
“So needy, aren’t we? So needy for me, Crowley.” Aziraphale moved his hand so that his finger could begin stroking lengths against Crowley’s vulva.
“B-Been thinking about you all day, angel,” Crowley admitted, eyes fluttering for a moment at the sudden stimulation. “Like this, with me,” he groaned out.
“Is that so?” Aziraphale teased, his voice low and smooth. “You’ve always had such an active imagination. Would you care to reenact some of your devilish thoughts with me?”
Much to both of their surprise, Crowley had managed to overcome his arousal enough to softly push Aziraphale off of him and back against the headboard. He caged the angel in with his arms.
“Angel, I’ll do whatever you desire of me,” Crowley muttered, his eyes half-lidded and eager.
Without waiting for a response he leant down to kiss Aziraphale’s forehead, then his flushed cheeks, his neck, and his exposed chest; slowly moving farther and farther down with every peck from his lips.
Eventually Crowley reached Aziraphale’s lower stomach and continued to kiss until he was met with the fabric of the angel’s pants, trailing along his clothed thighs and sending a pleasant shiver down Aziraphale’s spine.
Crowley looked up from between Aziraphale’s knees, making careful eye contact with the angel as he moved to place an especially soft kiss to the prominent bulge that was forming between his legs.
Aziraphale buried his face into the crook of his arm and suppressed a whimper as Crowley began to prod the fabric of his crotch with a serpentine tongue.
Crowley was always like this. He liked to be in total control whenever Aziraphale gave up even the slightest hint of dominance. Not that Aziraphale minded all that much.
Crowley’s fingers snaked up to unbutton the angel’s pants and wasted no time in removing the remaining layers that Aziraphale was wearing, turning back to his erect cock with a certain amount of pride.
“Mm, I’ve been anticipating dessert all day,” Crowley drawled, leaning forward to kiss the weeping head of Aziraphale’s penis. He began stroking the length of it, slowly, deliberately, trying to drive his angel to the brink of insanity.
“C-Crowley, please,” Aziraphale moaned out suddenly, and that was all the demon needed.
Not even a moment later Crowley had buried Aziraphale’s entire length deep into his throat, as far as he could physically take it, leaving it there for a moment as Aziraphale gasped and groaned fervently at the feeling of Crowley’s warm, wet mouth encapsulating his cock.
Crowley hummed his approval when Aziraphale reached to grasp fistfuls of his red hair, feeling the angel’s cock twitch against his tongue from the vibrations his voice had caused.
Then without warning Crowley began bobbing his head at a steady pace, listening intently as Aziraphale moaned out his name again and again.
“S-So perfect, my dear, always so perfect,” Aziraphale managed to murmur, gazing down at his demon with adoration.
Crowley, upon realising he was being carefully observed, hollowed his cheeks and used one hand to stroke the remaining length of Aziraphale’s cock, already slicked with drool.
“C-Crowley,” came Aziraphale’s broken voice, his head turning away slightly.
Crowley hummed again in response, feeling his lover twitch below him at the action.
“Crowley, I’m…” Aziraphale cut himself off with another moan, but the demon already knew what he was meaning.
Aziraphale’s grip on Crowley’s hair grew more earnest as his whole body began to tense, the demon not letting up his furious pace for even a moment. Suddenly Aziraphale cried out in a mixture of a muffled scream and a moan and Crowley felt hot strings of come hit the back of his throat, gulping down every last drop ardently.
Aziraphale was left panting and gasping a few moments later as he came down from his high, the demon slowly beginning to remove himself. Crowley sat up and gazed at his angel with a satisfied look on his face, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth clean.
“Such a good demon for me, Crowley. Always so well-behaved,” Aziraphale murmured lovingly after he’d recovered. “Though I must say, I much prefer it when you end up a mess.” He put a hand on Crowley’s chest and pushed the demon back until they had essentially swapped positions, Crowley now lying flat on the bed while Aziraphale hovered over him.
“Now, what may I do to return the favour?” Aziraphale added sensually.
“Well,” Crowley’s throat bobbed for a moment. “If you must know… I’d rather like if you would just get on with it and shag me already,” he replied cheekily.
“What, and skip all of the fun?” Aziraphale complained lightheartedly.
Crowley hummed. “Thought you already had plenty of fun,” he joked. Aziraphale blushed a little harder.
“Well, my dear, for your information, I’ve barely gotten started,” the angel said, leaning down to kiss Crowley’s chest. “Quite peckish myself, actually.”
He looked up at Crowley through his eyelashes and the demon felt his breath hitch.
“Ngh,” Crowley said.
Aziraphale tugged at Crowley’s pants, which were still in the act of being worn (more or less).
“Though I’m afraid that either way I’ll have to remove these,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley spared no time in kicking them off and tossing them to the floor.
“Much better,” the angel thanked him, beginning to trail his hands over Crowley’s bare body.
“Mm,” Aziraphale hummed after a moment of thought. “I need to return the favour, I think. Just fucking you isn’t enough.”
Crowley felt his pussy throb at even just hearing Aziraphale mention sexual intercourse. He wanted him so badly. In every way, all at once. Though he knew that was quite impossible.
“Ngk,” Crowley said again, though this time it was a much more choked sound. Aziraphale smiled at this.
“Surely you’d spare me a moment, my love? Sometimes I drive myself mad simply thinking about the way you taste, how you feel against my tongue. So delightfully tempting and incomparable to anything else I’ve ever known.” Aziraphale slowly began trailing his hands down Crowley’s body until he could grab him by the hips again, rubbing small circles with his thumbs.
“You’ve been so good for me, darling.” Aziraphale moved one hand to start stroking Crowley’s clit, the demon arching his back suddenly at the unannounced stimulation. “Allow me to return the favour, won’t you?”
“N-Ngk,” Crowley moaned out, trying to settle himself. His freshly recollected thoughts were scattered again when he felt Aziraphale slip two fingers into his aching vagina.
“Just like that. So lovely for me, Crowley. So well-behaved. So many lovely sounds falling from your tongue. Say my name, won’t you?” Aziraphale was cooing from above the demon.
“N-Ngh, A-Aziraphale,” Crowley managed to squeak out, earning more approval.
“Well done, Crowley. So obedient, hmm? So obedient for me. I love making you feel good, my beloved. It’s always such a treat, seeing you like this.” Aziraphale continued spilling praises to Crowley, working him up more and more with each word.
“P-Please,” Crowley whined. “Fuck me, Aziraphale. Please.”
Aziraphale seemed as though he were considering the request- not that Crowley was aware enough to observe this fact.
“Hmm… Well, I suppose so. I’ll just have to treat you on another occasion, then,” he concluded fondly.
Crowley felt an abrupt absence as Aziraphale removed himself, about to complain when suddenly he felt himself being lifted amid the haze in his brain.
“Is this okay?” Came Aziraphale’s voice, and Crowley opened his eyes to see that he was now kneeling over the angel, one leg on either side of his hips.
“Yeah,” Crowley replied affectionately. “Perfect.”
He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders and they both guided Crowley up and then gently back down onto Aziraphale’s waiting cock. Both parties took a moment to adjust, letting out their respective gasps and moans, before Crowley looked back up to focus on his lover.
“You ready?” He asked, and Aziraphale nodded.
“Whenever you are, darling.”
Crowley set a slow pace at first and Aziraphale let him have total control over that aspect of the situation. Aziraphale had also resumed his steady grip on the demon’s hips, aiding him slightly where necessary.
There were barely any words from Crowley past that point, replaced instead by a cascade of whimpers and moans and gasps.
“You’re doing so well, love- perfect, just like that. You’re doing so well for me, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured warmly between huffs. “Oh, you feel so lovely, my dear. So perfect, hmm? Never was there another creation of god so perfect as you.”
Crowley buried his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, struggling to form coherent thoughts as he quickened the pace until it was steady and fast. He snaked his hands back up to the angel’s head and tangled his fingers into the fluffy white hair there.
“Ngk,” Crowley whimpered as he continued to bounce up and down on Aziraphale’s lap. Suddenly he began to roll his hips with each thrust and they both let out graphic moans.
“A-Angel,” Crowley gasped. “Ah- m’gonna…!”
“Me too, love,” Aziraphale replied, breathless. He dug his fingers into Crowley’s hips and the demon let out another loud moan, coming undone at the action.
Aziraphale felt Crowley tighten around him and came a moment after, the both of them crying out in ecstasy as their bodies gradually stilled from the overstimulation.
Crowley all but collapsed against the angel and Aziraphale let out a breathy chuckle, the both of them exhausted.
“You did so well for me, hmm?” Aziraphale said softly, pulling Crowley back so he could look at him. “So pretty and loud for me, darling. Are you alright?”
“Mrrrnng,” Crowley replied, eyes closed as he leaned into Aziraphale’s touch. Aziraphale laughed again and let Crowley fall back against his chest.
“We need to get up, dear,” Aziraphale reminded him after a few moments.
“Hng.” Crowley said.
“I need to clean you up, hmm?” Aziraphale pointed out.
“Hrrfk.” Crowley said. He opened his eyes slowly. “Thought you preferred it when I ended up a mess,” he added sleepily. He couldn’t see it from where he was, but Aziraphale had begun to blush again.
“Do you mind if I move you?” Aziraphale asked, avoiding the question.
“Ngh,” Crowley said. (“No, I don’t mind.”)
Aziraphale gently lifted Crowley off of himself and guided the demon to lie down on the bed.
Crowley dozed off for a moment and when he woke up again he realised that Aziraphale had cleaned the both of them up (probably using a miracle, he’d thought) and was lying beside him now.
“Everything alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked, reaching out a hand to cup Crowley’s face.
“S’Perfect,” Crowley murmured, leaning into his touch. “S’Always perfect with you, angel. My star.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it,” Aziraphale replied brightly, moving to kiss Crowley’s forehead. “But please know that I am sorry about earlier…”
Crowley thought that Aziraphale was the only person on the planet who could manage to fret over something so unrelated during sex.
“I wish I had known, though I do understand why you did not tell me,” he continued.
“M’sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Crowley said, moving closer to Aziraphale so he could bury his face against the angel’s chest.
“Not at all, my love,” Aziraphale reassured him, running his fingers soothingly through Crowley’s unkempt hair. “I’m sorry for the distress I caused you tonight.”
“I wasn’t upset with you, angel,” Crowley clarified. “Was just upset that I couldn’t enjoy the date you’d planned. I really did like it, though.”
Crowley tilted his head so he could kiss Aziraphale on the cheek.
“That does put my mind at ease,” Aziraphale chuckled.
“I love you so much, Aziraphale,” Crowley said suddenly, squeezing his angel in an embrace.
“I love you too, Crowley.” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his demon.
#fern writes#ineffable husbands#good grief i love them so much#i feel like this oneshot switches on a dime though like thematically 💀#i need to write for them more lol <3#fluff#smut#fanfiction#good omens#aziracrow#gomens#aziracrow smut#ineffable husbands smut#smutshot#ineffable husbands oneshot#oneshot#long oneshot#minor angst#gos2#gos1#crowley x aziraphale#ineffable husbands fic
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Hii! For mermay prompts, how about depth for geraskier (ofc)
WHY YES OF COURSE FRANKSTER!
and uh, I made you choose between prince and amnesia, because both of those popped into my head at the prompt. Prince was chosen and here we are!
Hope you enjoy! <3
(also feel free to prompt me, here or on tumblr, i am on a writing spree and olsdfkj sorry for posting like 4 times in a day)
Send me a pairing and a word and I will make you some words? ❤️
On Ao3 here
Jaskier has been gone for too long. Geralt has been pacing their room for hours.
Yes, he did promise to stay put for a couple days, to wait for Jaskier’s… whatever he is doing. Or who.
The shoddy fisher village is gray, cold, everything covered in a thin layer of salt the spray of the waves offer in its violent rage.
Wind is whipping around the little wooden houses– sheds, really.
It’s been three days since Jaskier left. Three days, and he was supposed to be back this morning.
Is this how it feels to be left behind when Geralt himself leaves for a contract?
Possibly, because no matter how much Jaskier had told him to stay put, to wait, to just fucking trust him damnit, Geralt is fretting.
Finally he gives in.
Leaving the room the kind elderly lady is lending them, Geralt stalks outside. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.
The people here are not afraid of him, but seem to keep a distance from the bard. Everything about this place seems grey, but still it seems like the ever colorful Jaskier returns here, over and over again.
He starts with the aldermans house. They don’t have a tavern, the little gathering of houses far too small for such luxuries.
“The bard? You should check by the docks, or the boat house. He usually is out with the boat this time a year.”
He..what? Boat?
What the fuck is Jaskier doing?!
Geralt leaves without saying good bye, and the bard would have scolded Geralt for his bad manners, but he isn’t fucking here, is he?!
The boat house is, predictably, just down by the water. There is a long dock leading into the water, two smaller fishing boats tied to it.
An elderly man and someone who looks like his son sits by the house, mending nets.They look up when he approaches, shielding their eyes against the setting sun.
“Have you seen a bard around here? Jaskier? Brown hair, blue eyes, a lute and the worst fashion sense known to man?”
The elderly man presses his lips to a thin line and ducks his head. His son studies the witcher for a long moment, sizing him up, before responding.
“Aye,” he says, “What is it to you, witcher?”
“He’s my friend.” Geralt manages, working hard around a word that feels so inadequate. “And he is missing.”
“No more, lad,” the elderly man mutters, “Bad luck, it is.”
Geral frowns, trying not to let his impatience get the better of him.
“I’ll make it worth your while. Six crowns.”
“Florens.” The son corrects. “Ten. And I’ll take you to where we left him.”
-
The elderly fisherman refuses to come. Speaking of ill omens and bad luck, of not talking to the sea. The son takes him anyway, the sea getting oddly misty as they go further out with the boat.
“Coin is sparse out here, but my niece is sick. I’d rather leave the sea altogether than see her hurt,” the son says, rowing the boat towards a previously hidden little rock formation, barely an island. “Da doesn’t want to speak of it, speak of evil and it shall come, he says. We don’t need more sirens, he says.”
Geralt eyes him, then the sky. He can’t hear any flapping of wings, nor splashing of their tails. The water is calm, but the mist lays thick and hides both sight and sound.
The little boat touches the edge of the rock with a soft sound when they arrive.
“This is where I let him off every year,” the son says. “And pick him up after a few days. Know nothing but that.”
The florens trade hands, and when Geralt gets off, he pushes back into the water.
“I’ll be back in an hour. It’s probably superstition, but I don’t much like this place.”
-
Inspecting the area, Geralt finds it bare of both bards and life. He climbs around it, eventually finding an expensive looking chest with a solid lock on it.
It looks strange out here, oddly devoid of the wear and tear one would expect wood around the shore. Geralt picks the lock with ease, and when opens the lid, it doesn’t make a sound.
Inside it is a very familiar lute, and neatly folded clothes. Geralt’s heart sinks, but he has a trace now, something. He rummages around, finding everything Jaskier had brought but his jewellery. Even his underclothes is here.
Geralt closes it again, locks it carefully.
There should be traces here, anything to lead him to where Jaskier is.
The scent is old, barely there and hidden by the salty smell of the sea. Geralt will never complain about Jaskier’s perfume ever again.
It leads him to the other side of the little island, across the rocks on a path that looks surprisingly smooth and well walked.
Geralt stops when water starts lapping at his feet.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Either Jaskier has been hiding something from him, or something very bad has happened. And either truth still means Jaskier is missing, and that he went into the water. And from the sound of it, has been coming to the water for years.
Geralt trails back to the chest, takes off his boots and heavy armor. Takes off everything but his trousers, and two silver daggers.
The stone is smooth under his feet, and quickly gets slippery as it continues out into the water.
It’s cold, his skin pebbles when he gets as deep as his knees. Then the rock abruptly ends. Geralt breathes deep, and dives. Cat and killer whale would have been useful, but he didn’t know he would have to go swimming when they got out here.
Geralt has almost swum around the entire island when he notices the formations. Runes carved into stone, worn smooth by time and water.
With another deep breath, he follows it down, down, down, and what little sunlight was left quickly disappears down here.
There is an opening a bit further down.
And eyes. Many eyes.
Geralt realizes too late that he is surrounded, and there are clawed fingers and webbed hands pulling him deeper still, and into the opening.
His lungs are burning for air, and he is quickly disoriented, his elbows scraping against stone and harsh hands making him unable to reach for his knives.
Suddenly, they breach the surface, and Geralt pants harshly as he is dragged onwards and thrown onto a slimy rock. Broken shells of crabs and clams are spread out, and bones of fishes of all sizes lie spread among them.
Now free from his attacker, Geralt reaches for the dagger and turns to face them, but a beautiful face filled with fangs hisses at him as they retreat backwards, and another set of hands grip him hard.
Geralt can’t entirely make out if it is siren or mer people or something completely else, but more hands grip him, wrestling the knife from his hand.
“Walk!” one hisses, “You were looking, and you found us. Walk!”
Her voice is almost human, but her tongue is unused to his language. They shove him forward, deeper into the cave. It gets darker and darker, until suddenly Geralt realizes the walls are glowing.
Aluminescent is probably the right word for it. Algae covers the walks, swirling lines make patterns he feels like he has seen somewhere before.
It takes him until the now narrow walkway opens up into a bigger space that Geralt realizes where he recognizes it from.
The embroidery of Jaskier’s clothes.
When Geralt locks eyes with Jaskier across the room, the bard’s jaw is slack with surprise when he sees him
“Geralt,” he says, but oh.
Oh.
Jaskier doesn’t have a tail, but his skin is glimmering with the same pattern as the walls. He is sitting in the middle of the open space, on a rock slanting out to a deep, clear pool.
It almost looks like a throne room.
Around his feet are merpeople of different shapes and sizes.
The guards shoves him back when Geralt attempts to take a step forward, and Geralt bares his teeth to them.
“Stop it,” Jaskier says, voice commanding.
The guards, now that Geralt sees them, look like a strange hybrid of fish and man. Claws and fins and webbed fingers and hissing breaths, but they keep their distance, as they are told.
Jaskier is still wearing his rings and his necklace, but little else. On his brow is a circlet, thin and adorned with shells and crowned with a mother of pearls.
“I told you to wait,” Jaskier says, tilting his head.
“You didn’t come back. It’s been three days,” Geralt says, feeling foolish without not really knowing why.
“Has it? I’m sorry, time passes strangely down here.”
They just look at each other for a long while, for once the bard too seems at a loss for words.
“You don’t look like them,” Geralt says finally, indicating at the more fish-like guards behind him.
“I don’t,” Jaskier agrees, “Many mer these days are closer to sirens, but those close to the royal family are more humanoid.”
Jaskier gives a crooked smile when he sees Geralt wracks his brain.
“I told you I was a noble, didn’t I?”
“You said viscount.” Geralt suddenly remembers. “Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenove.”
“Ah yes, well. That is some of the truth, yes. Don’t give me that look, Geralt, I didn’t lie to you. I just happen to be a prince too.”
Geralt blinks, and Jaskier looks back at him, sitting proudly despite the light frown.
“Mer prince? Is that why you don’t have a tail?” Geralt asks carefully, and the guard next to him rolls his eyes so hard his head moves with it.
“I do have a tail, my friend. When I choose to. The perks of royalty, wouldn’t you say?” he says with a smirk, “Now, as happy as I am to see you here, and for you to meet my family, this is… not ideal. I wish… It doesn’t matter. You are here now. Ligeia, let him through. I think it is time he is given the tour.”
“But my prince-” Ligeia says with her weird, hissing voice, but Jaskier waves her off.
“I have spent more time with him than you are old. Let him come to me.”
Geralt is let through, and Jaskier offers his hand. It is not something they usually do, not while awake, but Geralt accepts it anyway.
Jaskier is cool to the touch, but his hands feel the same. Same callouses, same scar just over his thumb from a stupid accident with a branch.
He is led towards the other side of the rock, into the clear pool.
“Not the way I wanted to show you, but I’m glad you are here,” Jaskier whispers, like a confession. Hand in hand, they dive.
-
When they return to the outside world, the stars are out. When Geralt worries about how they will get back, Jaskier waves him off.
“They always kind of know when I need to go back. I think that is a part of why they don’t trust me.”
Yeah, that makes sense. Splashing of ores breaks the serene silence around them, and the son stares at them a bit wide eyed.
The ride back is more tense than last time, despite Jaskier’s chattering.
When they get back to their room, Geralt realizes they are still holding hands.
“Well, my prince,” he says teasingly, “I think we have some talking to do.”
#the witcher#geraskier#but kind of inspired by all the canons#jaskier is missing#geralt of rivia#jaskier#mermay#prince!jaskier#mer!jaskier#dapanda writes#pre slash#the witcher 3#a little bit at least#the witcher fic
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i love my psychiatrist like 80% of the time but today is not one of those times bc my normal pharmacy is out of Vyvanse generic (ofc they are everyone is) so I called around and found a place that had exactly enough left in my dosage to do my prescription on Monday. I called my doc to get my prescription moved - bc even though it's legalized for pharmacists to transfer controlled medications one time only for refill purposes my pharmacy has a policy that they won't transfer them at all (fuck that) but anyway - I left a voicemail at the doctor's and the nurse practitioner called me back like an hour later to get the details and said she'd forward it up (this is at like 1pm on Monday) anyway yesterday morning I stopped by the pharmacy and they hadn't received my script yet and I thought "hey I'll trust my doc to get it done she hasn't left me hanging before" (we can all see how that worked out for me) but they still had the generic in my dosage so I said "great I'll check back tomorrow" and I stop by this afternoon. give them my birthday, no dice. double check under name, nothing. other pharmacy tech I talked to yesterday hears me and comes over and goes "you're looking for the vyvanse right" and then sadly shakes her head when I say yes indeed I am and ask if they still happen to have any. so lads, it looks like I'm in for a Bad Time
#vyvanse shortage#medication shortage#OH also i posted like a one sentence thing about this on twitter just like about the vyvanse shortage#and then a fuckin bot replied to me with something like 'if you need vyvanse try [link to sketchy Twitter profile that sells psychedelics]“#like bestie if you can get me acid that's cool and all (not counting that you're trying to conduct illegal business on fuckin twitter)#but full offense I'm not getting my vyvanse from you
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Hecatemoon87 Presents An Alternative Universe: Alfie Solomons
Chapter Seven: The Competition
For more chapters - masterlist
The next morning, Alfie felt like he’d been through hell. His body ached and his face ached even more. Looking in the mirror, he could see that his face was black and purple. He wondered what William looked like. That was if the man had woken up from being knocked out cold by Alfie. Nailah had still been sleeping and she groggily got up from bed. Upon seeing Alfie’s face, she brought up her hands to her mouth and gasped.
“Oh, Alfie!” she said, coming over to inspect him.
“Don’t you worry about me, I’m gonna be fine,” he said, shooing her hands away.
She shook her head with dismay.
“We have an important meeting today about the dig, you can’t go looking like this,” she said.
“So you’re more worried about some meeting instead of my wellbeing?”
She placed her hands on her hips and frowned at him.
“Of course I worry about your wellbeing you brute, but of all nights you chose to box, it had to be last night,” she fussed.
She walked over to the privacy screen and began to undress.
‘Well, why don’t you go by yourself?” he said, walking over to pour water into a basin.
He splashed the water onto his face and dried with a towel.
“No, no, no. You need to be there, my contact, Rahim, he won’t sign off on the papers unless you are there. He admires you and he told me you needed to be there for him to know you joined the expedition,” she said, throwing her silk night shift over the screen.
“An admirer, eh? Well I don’t wanna disappoint a fan,” Alfie said, getting dressed.
He heard Nailah scoff and then emerge from behind the privacy screen. She was wearing a white short sleeve blouse, tan medium length skirt and short black boots. She looked like a dream to Alfie.
“Come here,” he said.
She frowned, going over to him, arms folded. He gently moved her arms away from her chest, then unbuttoned a few buttons on her shirt.
“What are you doing?” she said, bring her hands up to slap him away.
“Wait a minute,” he said, opening up the shirt so her cleavage would show.
“Alfie, I don’t want my breasts on display,” she said.
“They aren’t, just a little peek for the lads. Believe it or not, it helps with negotiating,” he said.
“How on earth do you know that?” she said, walking to the mirror to make sure he hadn’t shown too much.
“Cause, anytime a woman with her cleavage showing is in the room, I always make a dumb deal,” he said. “Same applies with a lot of gents.”
“And the world is still somehow ran by men, how is that?” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Before it was even nine a.m. the two traveled across Cairo to meet with Rahim. When they arrived, Rahim was in awe of Alfie.
“Dr. Solomons, sir, you…you are a legend,” Rahim said, shaking Alfie’s hand.
Alfie looked over at Nailah and grinned. “Hear that, I’m a fucking legend.”
She rolled her eyes and took a seat in front of Rahim’s desk.
“Mr. Gamal, shall we?” Nailah said, trying to get the documents signed as quickly as possible.
“Oh, did you not get my message?” Rahim said, frowning.
He walked behind his desk and took a seat. Nailah shook her head with slight confusion.
“No, I did not…” she replied.
“I had to sign off for another archeologist…the RGS had granted him full permission…I had to give him the approval instead.”
“You what?!” Nailah said, standing up in alarm.
Alfie had taken a seat and clasped his hands together.
“Right…par for the fucking course, then,” he muttered.
“Ms. Nailah, I am very sorry, but the RGS is very powerful. If I rejected their request…it would look bad for my company.”
“What…who?” Nailah stammered, she was so upset she didn’t have words.
Finally she resorted to Arabic, her first language.
“Mr. Gamal, who is the archeologist? And where does he plan to dig…furthermore, what does he plan to dig for?”
Rahim spoke back to her in Arabic.
“The archeologist, his name is Dr. Dankworth. He is going to look for An’Kah…”
Alfie clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth.
“Those…fucking…cunts,” Alfie said.
Alfie could speak Arabic fluently, so he hadn’t missed any of the details. Standing up from his chair without saying a word he left the office. Nailah chased after him, placing a hand on his arm. He pulled his arm away and proceeded down the path they had come.
“Alfie? Wait…please, I cannot walk quickly in these blasted boots,” she said, tottering after him.
He slowed and seeing her toddle over to him made him smile. At least he and Nailah back in his life.
“So the RGS tells me I’m a fool for looking for An’Kah, eh? Then they go fund some other cunt to do the dig?”
“I…I really had no idea. I’m just as stunned as you are…the RGS never mentioned it in any of the newsletters.”
“Who the fuck is Dr. Dankworth?”
“Oh, he’s…well, he’s rather good. You’ve never heard of him because he only recently joined the RGS…a bit of an outlier, but he did some very good work in Mongolia,” she said.
“You know him?”
“Yes, I do. Maybe…maybe we can talk with him, see if we could convince him otherwise?”
Alfie agreed so they returned to Nailah’s flat so that she could make a phone call to the consulate and then get patched over to Dr. Dankworth’s residence. By noon, the couple waited outside a medium sized sandstone home with a large black gate in front. They were let in by the butler and they then waited again in the lobby drinking tea.
“Hurry up and wait, then…” Alfie grumbled.
Alfie was seated on a red-velvet covered couch with Nailah perched next to him. She fussed with her blouse, buttoning at least one of the buttons he had undone earlier. Just then Dr. Dankworth entered the room. Nailah and Alfie both stood up. Dr. Dankworth was very handsome and young. He had a barrel chest, dark blue eyes and well kept black hair. His smile was white and bright and he carried himself like a soldier.
“Afternoon,” he said, smiling. “Nailah, so good to see you again.”
He went over, took her hand and kissed it. Then turned to Alfie and shook his hand firmly. Dr. Dankworth was about six-one and stood over them both.
“Please, take a seat,” he offered.
They returned to their seats and Dr. Dankworth sat across from them in an Egyptian reed woven chair.
“Henry, I wanted to see you…about An’Kah,” Nailah said.
Alfie frowned, he didn’t care for how they knew each other on a first name basis.
“Yes, amazing isn’t it? I mean…about your first try, Dr. Solomons, commendable, really. I can’t believe that the RGS didn’t stay patient with your progress,” he said.
“That’s because there was no progress,” Alfie said, flattly.
“Right, well…hopefully, on this dig there will be,” Dr. Dankworth said.
“Well, honestly, Henry, how do you think you will fare better? I just don’t want you to end up like…um, well…”
“Like me,” Alfie finished.
Dr. Dankworth chuckled. “Oh, you always worry so, Nailah. I have an ace up my sleeve, so I’ll be fine.”
The butler walked into the room.
“A telephone call, sir,” he said, then turned back to the other part of the house.
“Oh, will you excuse me for just a brief moment,” Dr. Dankworth asked.
Once Dankworth left the room, Nailah opened a few more buttons on her shirt.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Alfie asked.
“Obviously, this meeting isn’t going well, maybe…this will help?” she asked.
“You know, in this case, put the girls away, eh? I think he likes you a bit too much,” Alfie said.
In the end, their mission to dissuade Dr. Dankworth from proceeding with his dig failed. They left the premises slightly disheartened. It was nearing one p.m. and they had not taken lunch yet, so they stopped off at a café. They ordered and as they waited Alfie had to ask Nailah a question.
“Why is every other man sniffing around you, eh?”
“Pardon?”
“William, now this bloke. And well, almost every other man that encounters you looks at you a certain way…I don’t like it,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Are you insinuating I’m sleeping with every man I encounter?”
“No, I just think…maybe you’re being a bit too flirtatious.”
“Oh good lord, being polite and friendly doesn’t mean I am flirting. You men, you think just because a woman smiles and acts cordial that she wants to drop her knickers for you, but that is certainly not the case. I would pose the question, what is wrong with men?”
Alfie stroked his beard and thought about it.
“I dunno, luv, we're always randy, that’s the problem,” he said.
“I don’t know why you’re jealous, it isn’t like we are married,” she said.
“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?”
She didn’t say anything and gave him a sheepish look.
“On the boat, I didn’t fucking mention it, but I’m gonna say it now. I proposed to you twice and what did you do?”
She looked off to the side, not wanting to answer. Alfie leaned forward on the table, giving her a hard stare.
“Nailah…what did you do?” he asked again.
“I said no,” she said, annoyed by him pushing the subject.
“That’s right, no, each bleeding time,” Alfie said, gruffly.
“I told you why,” she said.
“Yeah, “I’m a free and independent woman, I shouldn’t have to rely on a man”,” Alfie said, making his voice higher, trying to imitate her voice.
“I do not sound like that,” she said. “Nor did I say that.”
“It ain’t verbatim, but it sums it up, luv,” he said, sitting back in his chair.
“Nevermind all that now, what about the dig?” she asked.
“It’s fucked innit?”
“No…there has to be another way,” she said.
“Give it a rest, Nailah,” Alfie said. “You don’t know when to give up.”
“No, I don’t know when to give up because that’s not what Avrom taught me, nor you,” she said.
Alfie shifted in his chair.
“You can accuse me of not wanting to get married, but you abandoned me when I needed you most,” she said.
“Abandoned you?” Alfie asked in disbelief.
“Alfie, I’ve been writing you letters for the past two years, you responded to one out of dozens. I wrote to you three times since I’ve been in Egypt, giving you my address. And when father…” She tried to speak, but her voice broke.
She covered her mouth and tears filled her eyes. Then she found her voice again.
“When father died, where were you? I needed you…I was alone. Alone in that big house with so many memories…and no one to talk to. Mother died all those years ago…and so I decided to move back to Egypt…to find you, but you…you didn’t care!”
“Nailah, if we had gotten…” Alfie went on to say.
“Don’t you dare say married! I gave you my heart all those years ago. Marriage? What is that but a piece of paper?! I see so many men and women married, but they aren’t in love. Love is what binds you, not marriage! And I love you, Alfie Solomons, you stubborn, stubborn man!”
They were sitting outside on the patio of the café and Nailah was speaking to him in a harsh whisper. Alfie was dumbfounded and had nothing he could say to defend himself. Their food was served and they ate quietly. On their way back to her flat they walked in silence.
Alfie spotted a park gate as they walked down the pathway. He slipped his hand into her hand and guided her into the park. It was like a mini oasis, green flora and tall palm trees filled the small enclosure. A large fountain sat in the center and was surrounded by a brilliant array of yellow, orange, pink and red flowers.
Although she followed him willingly, she refused to look at him. He sat her on a bench and crouched down in front of her, there was no one else in the park.
“Nailah?” he asked.
She looked away dismissively.
“Habibti,” he said, turning her chin so he could see her eyes.
Her light brown eyes were still filled with tears and it made his heart ache badly.
“You are my heart, you know that, yeah?”
She closed her eyes and fresh tears fell from them. Alfie brushed them away with his thumb.
“What I did…I was a fool. I am sorry, habibti,” he said, earnestly.
He could tell it was working, his apology.
“I’ll make you a promise?” he said, thinking of another way to end her sorrow.
She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He gripped her hands tightly.
“I will never ask you to marry me again,” he said.
She stared at him then tried to stifle a laugh. Through Nailah’s heart, he knew, was humor. She started giggling and shaking her head at his joke. He smiled and sat next to her on the bench.
“You’re a madman, Alfie Solomons,” she said, kissing him.
“Yeah, and you’re a madwoman for sticking by me,” he grinned, kissing her back.
requested tags - @quarterpastmidnight @rikki-b-lake @noz4a2
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(in the interest of) burning (everything down) ch5
link to ao3
ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4
it’s not a coping mechanism, it’s a lifestyle
DAY 02 ~0530
He is Ghost when he wakes well before dawn, when he showers and dresses, carries out his morning routine without extraneous action or thought.
He is Ghost when he runs through two protein bars in lieu of a real breakfast and he is Ghost when he sets up for the day’s training as if nothing had happened just hours ago. It isn’t an active choice. That suggests there’s another option. Wielding duty as a scalpel, Simon excised all emotions from himself a long time ago. The resulting soldier is stronger for it, unburdened by something frivolous as guilt as he surveys the empty training grounds.
In less than an hour, the place will be crawling with jackasses to whip into shape. He will do his very best to whip the jackasses into shape, go at it for several hours, and call it when the recruits start flagging something awful. Piss, shower, eat, tackle some paperwork, rinse, repeat—everything else is extraneous and therefore unnecessary, and therefore he will not do it.
Several jackasses trickle in, chatting animatedly amongst each other despite the early hour. His stomach twists, seeing in them the same vivacity that drew him to Soap in the first place. He quickly shoves that thought away.
He is there to work. He is a soldier. His duties do not include socialising, pining, nor groveling. He will not be promoted for playing cards with the lads; it won’t save anyone’s life. If bright, grey eyes fruitlessly seek him out, if the lips below them fail to spread into a smile, then so be it. They’ve both made their beds; Ghost made the tactical decision to change the sheets beforehand. Hopefully Soap did, too. For his own sake.
He greets the jackasses with a nod when they arrive.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” one of them says, now buttoned up into some semblance of professionalism. Ghost responds with a grunt and decides that he will put them all through hell today.
So he does.
None of the soldiers complain as their commanding officer runs them ragged, or at least, Ghost doesn’t hear any of it. They have the good sense of keeping their shit to themselves in front of their Lieutenant. Common knowledge, Ghost assumes, but common knowledge isn’t always a common thing. He’s unsure who this thought targets, but it definitely targets someone. Or several someones.
He dismisses the men around noon and hardly feels bad when they stagger towards the showers.
He is Ghost when he takes his dinner alone and he is Ghost when he holes himself away in his quarters to bang through some paperwork. Ghost’s hands do not shake and Ghost’s heart doesn’t feel juvenile emotions like regret.
DAY ?? ~????
Soap pushes him back abruptly. “Is this a joke?” he asks incredulously.
Even with the mask, Simon’s confusion reads clear on his face.
“You ice me out, actively screw me over, make me look like an idiot in front of everybody” Soap says, spitting the words, “and then you come to me like this? What is your fucking damage?”
Simon thought he understood. Honest mistake. The pressure of Soap’s ire strangles him, so he tries for honesty. “I was fucking terrified. Still am.”
“Of what?”
It’s too tender to say, so Simon doesn’t say it. He desperately wants to, gathers up courage to come clean, makes salient the urgency, but the words hide in the safety of his throat.
Soap continues before they have a fighting chance. “Scared of having everyone find out about your dirty little secret?”
“No,” he says quickly, certain. This is easier to respond to and it chips away at the aphasia. “I’m not ashamed of you, Johnny; never was, never could be. I told myself I couldn’t play favorites because we’d be in deep shit if they found us out, and we would be.” Soap makes to protest, but Simon raises a hand to stop him. Surprisingly, Soap acquiesces. “That’s not what I’m afraid of. Makes sense, though, and it’s easier to accept, so I committed to it.”
“Jesus, cut to the fucking chase,” Soap barks.
“I don’t play favorites because I don’t have favorites. Never thought I would, but you—I didn’t think I could—“
“Simon, what the hell does that even mean?”
“You’re too close—“
“I can give you—If you wanted space, you could’ve asked and I’d give you space. What the hell?”
“No—fuck,” he sighs, “I don’t fucking want space. I want less space, fucking none, and I don’t get it.”
“What?”
“I don’t get close to people.”
“I can tell.”
Simon nods, laughs bitterly. “You don’t want to be close to me, Johnny.”
Soap’s jaw clenches. He’s pissed. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
“I am trying to protect you.”
“Jesus fucking wept. Protect me?” he yells. “You act like you’re the only person on earth with baggage, Simon. Everyone’s got something. Everyone’s fucked up—I’m fucked up. Doesn’t mean I’m just gonna stop living. You do. You think you’re the single most fucked man in the world, beyond all fucking help, but you’re not.” Soap’s jaw clenches, he presses his eyes closed.
“You don’t know that.”
“Not for a lack of fucking trying, you absolute fucking psychopath. I just want to fucking know you, I want to be close to you. If it blows up in my face, at least I’d have chosen that. Let me choose, Simon.”
“I’m giving you an out. Don’t want you to find out the hard way that I—” he swallows, “I’m not an easy person to love—”
“It isn’t hard to love you,” Soap growls, irritated as if Simon’s missing the whole point. Maybe he is. Maybe this is worse than it seems. Simon’s spirits sink. Slightly. Soap then deflates. Slightly. “It isn’t hard to love you, “ he repeats, gentle this time. “I don’t even need to try.”
Whether or not Soap understands the force of his words, they land. Hard. Striking squishy, weak flesh, sensitive from lack of exposure. Like a nail cut too short. No more of this shit, Simon decides. No more of anything like this ever again, ever. The walls come down. Rubble.
“Maybe you will one day.” Thank you.
“Then we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” The pleasure’s mine.
Simon casts sideways glance to the wall, sucks his teeth. “Okay.” Surrender never feels easy. He squeezes shut his eyes, opens them when he feels something at his hand. It’s Soap, interlacing their fingers with a fragile smile that flickers with dancing flames. The evening air is cool against his back, but Simon can feel the heat roll off the blazing house. Soap walks toward it, urging him forward.
“C’mon, Si. Trust me.” It’s a terrifying sight, but with a nod, he acquiesces. Hand in hand, Soap leads them across the wet grass, stopping at the threshold. “Shall we?”
Tongues of fire lap against their arms, feeling almost sweet. Soap drags him through the door frame, grinning as their shirts, their trousers go up in flames. Everything drops away into ash and molten plastic, but not them. It doesn’t even hurt. After all, it’s not like you can burn down the thing that does the burning.
It’s just awfully hard to breathe, hard to breathe
hard to breathe
hard to breathe.
CH 5 it’s not a coping mechanism, it’s a lifestyle
DAY 02 ~0530
He is Ghost when he wakes well before dawn, when he showers and dresses, carries out his morning routine without extraneous action or thought. He is Ghost when he runs through two protein bars in lieu of a real breakfast and he is Ghost when he sets up for the day’s training as if nothing had happened just hours ago. It isn’t an active choice. That suggests there’s another option. Wielding duty as a scalpel, Simon excised all emotions from himself a long time ago. The resulting soldier is stronger for it, unburdened by something frivolous as guilt as he surveys the empty training grounds.
In less than an hour, the place will be crawling with jackasses to whip into shape. He will do his very best to whip the jackasses into shape, go at it for several hours, and call it when the recruits start flagging something awful. Piss, shower, eat, tackle some paperwork, rinse, repeat—everything else is extraneous and therefore unnecessary, and therefore he will not do it.
Several jackasses trickle in, chatting animatedly amongst each other despite the early hour. His stomach twists, seeing in them the same vivacity that drew him to Soap in the first place. He quickly shoves that thought away.
He is there to work. He is a soldier. His duties do not include socialising, pining, nor groveling. He will not be promoted for playing cards with the lads; it won’t save anyone’s life. If bright, grey eyes fruitlessly seek him out, if the lips below them fail to spread into a smile, then so be it. They’ve both made their beds; Ghost made the tactical decision to change the sheets beforehand. Hopefully Soap did, too. For his own sake.
He greets the jackasses with a nod when they arrive.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” one of them says, now buttoned up into some semblance of professionalism. Ghost responds with a grunt and decides that he will put them all through hell today.
So he does.
None of the soldiers complain as their commanding officer runs them ragged, or at least, Ghost doesn’t hear any of it. They have the good sense of keeping their shit to themselves in front of their Lieutenant. Common knowledge, Ghost assumes, but common knowledge isn’t always a common thing. He’s unsure who this thought targets, but it definitely targets someone. Or several someones.
He dismisses the men around noon and hardly feels bad when they stagger towards the showers.
He is Ghost when he takes his dinner alone and he is Ghost when he holes himself away in his quarters to bang through some paperwork. Ghost’s hands do not shake and Ghost’s heart doesn’t feel juvenile emotions like regret.
DAY ?? ~????
Soap pushes him back abruptly. “Is this a joke?” he asks incredulously.
Even with the mask, Simon’s confusion reads clear on his face.
“You ice me out, actively screw me over, make me look like an idiot in front of everybody” Soap says, spitting the words, “and then you come to me like this? What is your fucking damage?”
Simon thought he understood. Honest mistake. The pressure of Soap’s ire strangles him, so he tries for honesty. “I was fucking terrified. Still am.”
“Of what?”
It’s too tender to say, so Simon doesn’t say it. He desperately wants to, gathers up courage to come clean, makes salient the urgency, but the words hide in the safety of his throat.
Soap continues before they have a fighting chance. “Scared of having everyone find out about your dirty little secret?”
“No,” he says quickly, certain. This is easier to respond to and it chips away at the aphasia. “I’m not ashamed of you, Johnny; never was, never could be. I told myself I couldn’t play favorites because we’d be in deep shit if they found us out, and we would be.” Soap makes to protest, but Simon raises a hand to stop him. Surprisingly, Soap acquiesces. “That’s not what I’m afraid of. Makes sense, though, and it’s easier to accept, so I committed to it.”
“Jesus, cut to the fucking chase,” Soap barks.
“I don’t play favorites because I don’t have favorites. Never thought I would, but you—I didn’t think I could—“
“Simon, what the hell does that even mean?”
“You’re too close—“
“I can give you—If you wanted space, you could’ve asked and I’d give you space. What the hell?”
“No—fuck,” he sighs, “I don’t fucking want space. I want less space, fucking none, and I don’t get it.”
“What?”
“I don’t get close to people.”
“I can tell.”
Simon nods, laughs bitterly. “You don’t want to be close to me, Johnny.”
Soap’s jaw clenches. He’s pissed. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
“I am trying to protect you.”
“Jesus fucking wept. Protect me?” he yells. “You act like you’re the only person on earth with baggage, Simon. Everyone’s got something. Everyone’s fucked up—I’m fucked up. Doesn’t mean I’m just gonna stop living. You do. You think you’re the single most fucked man in the world, beyond all fucking help, but you’re not.” Soap’s jaw clenches, he presses his eyes closed.
“You don’t know that.”
“Not for a lack of fucking trying, you absolute fucking psychopath. I just want to fucking know you, I want to be close to you. If it blows up in my face, at least I’d have chosen that. Let me choose, Simon.”
“I’m giving you an out. Don’t want you to find out the hard way that I—” he swallows, “I’m not an easy person to love—”
“It isn’t hard to love you,” Soap growls, irritated as if Simon’s missing the whole point. Maybe he is. Maybe this is worse than it seems. Simon’s spirits sink. Slightly. Soap then deflates. Slightly. “It isn’t hard to love you, “ he repeats, gentle this time. “I don’t even need to try.”
Whether or not Soap understands the force of his words, they land. Hard. Striking squishy, weak flesh, sensitive from lack of exposure. Like a nail cut too short. No more of this shit, Simon decides. No more of anything like this ever again, ever. The walls come down. Rubble.
“Maybe you will one day.” Thank you.
“Then we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” The pleasure’s mine.
Simon casts sideways glance to the wall, sucks his teeth. “Okay.” Surrender never feels easy. He squeezes shut his eyes, opens them when he feels something at his hand. It’s Soap, interlacing their fingers with a fragile smile that flickers with dancing flames. The evening air is cool against his back, but Simon can feel the heat roll off the blazing house. Soap walks toward it, urging him forward.
“C’mon, Si. Trust me.” It’s a terrifying sight, but with a nod, he acquiesces. Hand in hand, Soap leads them across the wet grass, stopping at the threshold. “Shall we?”
Tongues of fire lap against their arms, feeling almost sweet. Soap drags him through the door frame, grinning as their shirts, their trousers go up in flames. Everything drops away into ash and molten plastic, but not them. It doesn’t even hurt. After all, it’s not like you can burn down the thing that does the burning.
It’s just awfully hard to breathe, hard to breathe
hard to breathe
hard to breathe.
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The Maven's Avatar
Franklin Fullmoon stood outside the abandoned and now condemned building of Johnny’s Toys in a three piece business suit complete with a green vest under it, his hands folded behind him. “He did THIS?” he demanded.
“Yes Patriarch.” came the reply from one of his personal guard. They were all dressed the same, black suit, black tie, white dress shirt, and aviator glasses. They weren’t FBI or CIA of course, but they found that dressing in such a manner tended to dissuade all but the most mad or stupid of mundanes from giving them too much attention and those ones could be easily dismissed as cranks if they weren’t outright ignored anyways.
“Hm… this is going too far. Bad enough he’s using magic but unleashing a demon this brazenly?” he frowned, then turned and stalked back towards the car. “Is she still dealing with that beshilu nest that was located outside of Cleveland?” he asked.
The guardsman actually stumbled at this, “Her?! Patriarch Sir, far be it from me to question you but… isn’t that a bit extreme? She knows nothing about restraint!” he replied, lowering his sunglasses a bit to reveal emerald-green eyes.
“Restraint?” he growled, gesturing to the ruined toy store. Inside the members of Clan Fullmoon were placing C4 charges around support pillars. Within an hour of their leaving they would initiate a controlled collapse of the building to destroy the evidence of what had happened here. “RESTRAINT?! Look at it man! That building looks like a giant bear attacked it! Its already shown up on ten urban legend websites and the SCP wiki! There was even a spot on the National News this morning! Every time we’ve tried ‘restraint’ the traitor has slipped through our fingers, and now this!” he shouted, glaring at his aide, “I am done with restraint! Call her!”
Two nights later
Nelen dove for cover inside what was, until about twenty minutes ago, a CVS Pharmacy. Now it was mostly rubble. He held an exhausted Dawn in his arms, the Cheshire back in her cat form so he could carry her. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” he gasped out, his eyes wide and wild.
"ON YOUR LEFT!" came a scream in his head.
Nelen dove out of the way just in time as a broadsword sheared the shelving unit in half with a metallic screech!
“ACH! Yer bein’ a’ real poor sport ‘ere lad! Its nae like I want tae kill kin, Hellmage or nae!” came a voice with an Irish accent as thick as potato soup.
Nelen gasped for breath, then scrambled towards the door just as he heard a click, then saw a grenade bounce past his head… he let out a strangled cry, conjured a blood tendril, tore the fire escape door off its hinges, and bolted just as the entire wall buckled and the smell of burnt potato chips filled the air! He ran for the far building and leapt up, grabbing the fire escape one handed and managing by sheer adrenaline-fueled terror, to pull himself up it one handed, scrambling up the fire escape to the roof of the next building.
He stumbled to a halt ontop of it and looked around frantically. He was bleeding from his cheek, side, left arm, and upper thigh. “Fucking hells, Franklin sent HER?! I thought she was just a legend…” he gasped, his eyes wide with terror. He’d heard of her, everyone in the clan had, but nobody really believed it.
Men had the muscle, women had the magic, that’s how it always was with Clan Fullmoon! But...
A clattering came from the ladder nearby, then a woman burst up over the side, landing with a thud on the roof across from him and straightening up.
She grinned at him in the moonlight. She had short cut crimson hair and shining green eyes, and her body had enough scars to rival Nelen’s. She wore a black tank top over what appeared to be a sports bra and a pair of cargo pants with pockets bulging with all sorts of nasty tricks, a sword belt on her hip and the blade itself balanced on her shoulder, still showing the red splashes from where it had hit him.
“C’mon now boyo. Be a good lad ‘n I’ll make it fast.” she nodded, striding forward… then getting knocked backwards off the building and down into the alleyway as a bird-like scream pierced the night sky. “OI! FOUL!” came an angry cry from the alleyway.
Dawn coughed, her eyes barely open, the small Cheshire too exhausted to even remain awake. “Nelen?” she gasped, completely burnt out from the effort of trying to teleport them to safety so many times. He looked out across Covington, seeing flickering fires showing a trail of destruction from under the bridge where he’d arrived leading all the way here.
“Dammit…” he grunted, looking up at the sky, “Steffi get the hells outta here or she’ll come after you too!” he snarled, the warlock leaping across to the next rooftop, then the next. Below police sirens blared, it looked like every cop in the next three counties was in the streets below! “Franklin must have lost his godsdamn mind! No mundane on Earth could possibly miss this!”
Yes, the inborn traits of Clan Fullmoon had their rules, but apparently exceptions were made.
Loren Fullmoon, the Maven’s Avatar, the Madwoman of Clan Fullmoon who had once strangled a whole pack of rogue werewolves to death with her bare hands, who had taken out an entire ghul nest in Calcutta with just a box of fireworks, who had passed through the Bermuda Triangle and came back with three trophies for Castle Fullmoon… and for whom ‘collateral damage’ was a challenge, who Franklin apparently kept as far away from population centers as possible so that people would write off her actions as sinkholes, volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and the like, and who was even more mad than the Patriarch himself.
Now she was in Covington with orders direct from his grandfather: ‘Bring me Nelen’s head, to Hell with the consequences.’
Well, there were consequences aplenty now! He couldn’t hope to stop long enough to open a door to the Wulfshead with her on his heels and going up against her in single combat was even more suicidal than jumping off London Bridge would have been! How on Earth was he supposed to get out of THIS one?!
An hour earlier
The Brent Spence Bridge was one of the main thoroughfares into Cincinnati from across the river, it was a piece of local history, and it was also a rather convenient place to leave the Wulfshead. Pick the right time of day and foot traffic was almost nil, just bring a bottle of something strong incase any of the local homeless were squatting there and you were golden.
Nelen opened the door and walked through, followed by both Stephanie and Dawn, then let it shut behind them and just like that it was only a wall. “Right, well, lets get you to the bus depot and get you home.” he nodded to his sister, walking out from under the bridge.
Stephanie nodded, “Yeah, pity we couldn’t have hung out in London a bit more. Never been to England.” she replied.
Nelen shook his head, “Too risky. Franklin has a ton of spies in the UK. He’d love an excuse to take out the Crown Necromancer.” he replied.
Stephanie looked at him, “The what?”
Nelen snorted, “The one who keeps bringing the members of the Royal Family back to life when they croak. You saw that picture of Prince Philip? Someone got a shot of him before the rigor mortis wore back off.” he replied.
“Ah…” she replied.
As they got to the main road Nelen’s phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it, “Hey Mom, we just got back into Covington. I’m heading for the TANK stop now… I… huh?”
“FORGET IT!” came the frantic voice of Catherine Fullmoon, mother to him and Stephanie, “Take your sister and get the hell out of here! Go back to England, go to Canada! GO ANYWHERE! Dad has gone off the deep end!” she shouted.
“Mom hey! Slow down! Whats going on? What did he do?!” he asked they came to a stop, the two girls sharing a worried glance.
“He called her back! Loren! She’s already in town! Dad doesn’t care about the consequences anymore!” she shouted.
Nelen blinked, “Wait what? I thought she was just made up. I mean, that’s not how Clan Fullmoon works…” he muttered.
“Look you’re too young to know the truth of it bu…” was as far as she got before a loud bang echoed across the air, his phone shot out of his hand and crashed to the pavement in pieces with a smell of hot lead.
Standing across the way from him was a woman, but one with a body that said, ‘I work out a LOT.’ Her hand was on the hilt of a sword, still sheathed in a scabbard but worn openly as if she didn’t give a shit who saw, and a massive handgun with smoke still rising from the barrel. “Evenin’ cous’…” she grinned, “Ol’ Frankie saw yer handiwork at th’ ol storefront ‘n he’s officially run outta shites ta give.” she nodded, stepping forward and unsheathing her sword. “Ye gonna give me a good ol’ chase?”
Nelen stared, his blood running cold. This wasn’t some random boogeyman, this was a trained monster hunter! Whats more, she was a member of Clan Fullmoon, and if the rumors of her were even half true…
“Dawn, get us out of here. ANYWHERE!” he shouted, holding his hand back behind him. Dawn nodded and grabbed his hand, then Stephanie’s, then with an inrushing of air they all reappeared four blocks over.
In the distance they heard a loud scream of ‘FOUL!’
“Steffi, go. Get home, catch a bus or fly there, I don’t care how.” he nodded to her, the girl nodding back and immediately pulling off her shoes, not even bothering to keep them as she spread her wings and shot up into the air.
“Okay, so we’ve got an advantage, she likely doesn’t know which direction we teleported, for all she knows we got across the river into Cincinnati… if we’re quick we can be back in the Wulfshead and the hells out of Covington before…” he started…
"DUCK DAMMIT!" screamed Merihim’s voice in his head!
Nelen dove for cover as a chunk of wall was blown away, looking back at the entrance to the alleyway. “HOW?!” he gasped.
“Would ye believe luck o’ th’ Irish?” replied Loren, still pointing her gun at him, then there was a loud bang and he gasped as his jeans suddenly sported a tear, his skin split along his thigh. “Tch, ah told ‘em this bloody thing pulls to th’ left…” she frowned, tossing it away, then unsheathing her sword, “These be funner anyways.” she grinned.
Then reality inverted as they were across the street in an empty laundromat. “Nelen? Explaaaaaaaaain?” asked Dawn with an anxious grin.
“If that’s who I think that is, her name is Loren Fullmoon.” he replied, “Franklin uses her against the kind of shit that could eliminate entire cities, mostly because she’s more batshit than a vampire elder’s haven and…” he froze as he heard a crash from the front window, then saw a small egg-shaped object skitter across the floor. “… GRENADE!” he shouted.
Reality burped again and they were on the rooftop next door just in time to see the roof blow off the building! “Fucking hells, that’s no normal grenade. The Clan use those to take out ghul nests!” he gasped. They had to be the kind of bombs that would blow up entire buildings, one ghul got away and they may as well have not bothered. “How did she know where we went?!” he stammered… then there were four more blasts and now five buildings nearby were on fire.
“Neeeeeelen! Stop bein’ a poor sport lad! Ye had yer fun but Frankie ran outta patience!” she called from the street.
“She… she didn’t know where we went, she’s just blowing them up at random?!” he stammered as Dawn let out a low whine in the back of her throat. “We gotta get the fuck outta here!” he hissed to her. The rumors were that Loren’s main battle prowess wasn’t that she was just super strong, it’s that she didn’t give a single wet shit about anything but her goal. If the target died then that was her goal, anything else was an obstacle to be removed.
Dawn grabbed Nelen’s arm and they reappeared on a rooftop four blocks down, the Cheshire beginning to breathe heavier as three more buildings went up.
Present
Nelen jumped down into an alleyway and ran for his godsdamn life.
"Nelen! The seal! Cut me loose and I’ll have her all over the damn walls!" demanded Merihim.
“Are you nuts?! He sent her because I used that on one of the Gentry! If I kill one of the Clan with it he’ll dump Agent Orange over all of Covington!” he hissed back.
"WHAT CHOICE DO YOU HAVE?!" snarled the demon. "I told you I don’t want to go back to Hell either and this woman is willing to blow up entire buildings to kill you!"
“I’ll… I’ll figure out something!” he nodded, rushing along as he heard another crash from behind him. “Just… keep an eye out… or… however the fuck you’re sensing her!” he grunted, a stitch forming in his side.
As he ran however, he heard a voice, “Nelen! This way!”
He looked over to see the moonlight shine off a pair of glasses, a small hand waving to him. He turned and bolted, question it later SURVIVE NOW! He dove into the doorway, rolling to a stop and holding up his hand in case it was a trap… then saw Stephen Fullmoon shutting the door behind him and bolting it.
“That won’t stop her, but from the outside this looks just like any other patch of wall now.” he nodded.
Nelen blinked, looking around. It looked like an old beer hall, but everything was covered in dust and abandoned. Stephanie was there too, the girl looking like she was getting her breath back.
“Where…” he started.
“It’s an old speakeasy, they designed them to be easily hidden. I can’t promise it’ll keep us totally safe, but it’ll at least slow her down.” he nodded, then shrugged at Nelen, “What? You know how many times I’ve had to hide out from my dad? I know most of the boltholes in the city! Though there’s about…” he counted on his fingers, “Four less now.” he nodded, then the room shook and dust spiraled down from the ceiling. “… five less, that sounded like it came from over by Greenup Street.” he corrected.
Nelen coughed, getting to his feet as he cradled Dawn in his arms. “Look, thanks for the save, but you kids gotta get the hells outta here! Loren is a complete psychopath! She won’t hesitate to cut you two down if it means getting me!” he nodded.
Stephanie frowned, “You think Steve and I can’t back you up?” she huffed. “Since that mess with Blake and Lisa I’ve taken down four hobgoblins, exorcised the old St. Luke hospital, sealed two pathways to Arcadia, and defeated a rogue vampire! Steve and I have been protecting the area for two years now! We can help!” she glared, “Grandpa Frank may be an idiot about magic, but I’m a Fullmoon Witch and dammit I’m going to protect my home whatever he says!”
“And I may not be able to fight, but I know Covington better than most historians! I had to just to survive around here!” nodded their cousin, “I’m the reason she was able to find those hedge gates in the first place!”
“He really was! We may be kids, but we’re still Fullmoons! We know about this stuff, we want to protect people!” insisted Stephanie.
“This is different guys! If we take out Loren then Franklin will throw everything he has at us and he’ll come after you guys too! This is my problem so just let me…” he looked up as the door crashed open, ripped right off its hinges.
“Hoy cous…” grinned Loren, looking down at the two kids, “… ugh, dunnae suppose I can ask ye wee ones ta skedaddle? Got words ta be havin’ wit’ Nelen.”
Nelen glared, yeah okay so Franklin would lose it, but he’d be damned all over again if he let her harm them… then paused as the two kids stood infront of him, throwing out their arms.
“Hey! C’mon Loren, isn’t setting Covington on fire enough?!” demanded Stephanie.
“Yeah, so Nelen had a demon! I’d be some faerie’s plaything if he hadn’t torn apart that store!” insisted Stephen.
At that however, Loren paused, “… come again lad?” she asked, then looked up at Nelen. “Ye used yer demon ta drive back one o’ th’ Gentry?”
Nelen blinked slowly, “… Franklin didn’t tell you?” he asked.
Loren looked down at the kids faces, raising her eyebrow, “… nae, ‘e said ye made a pact with one o’ th’ Pit ‘n that ye were ta die fer it.” she replied, her voice taking an edge to it. “He dinnae say anythin’ else…”
“Y-yeah! Its true!” said Stephen, “Isolde, the Everblooming Rose! She was the faerie that was after me! Nelen had to unseal his demon, but he tore her minions apart and drove her back to Arcadia!”
Loren narrowed her eyes, then sheathed her sword, “… ‘scuse me a mo’.” she said, pulling a phone out of her pocket and pressing a button with her thumb, “Oi, ol’ man.” she said, “At wut point were ye gonna tell me th’ lad used that demon ta beat back one o’ th’ Others?” she asked.
A loud angry voice came from the phone.
Loren snorted, “AYE! I’d say circumstances be pretty bleedin’ important ‘ere Grandad!” she retorted, “Ah’ve been tellin’ ye th’ moratorium on th’ magicks be ah bloody stupid idea, ‘n shite like this be why! Ya cannae fight th’ Gentry wit’ just a length o’ sharpened iron! A couple hobs aye, but one o’ them?!” she snapped, “Even I’d wanna have some extra backup against that!”
Franklin’s voice was unintelligible to the other three, but Loren just got more annoyed, the woman spinning in the doorway to turn her back to the group, “NAE NAE NAE OL’ MAN! Ah told ye I was gettin’ sick o’ this! First ye send me after that witch’s coven wut was givin’ magical cures ta people who couldnae afford proper doctorin’ without tellin’ me, THEN ye wanted me ta take down th’ werewolf pack in’ Australia wut was keepin’ th’ bloody jackrabbit population under control, now this?!” she snapped, “Oh?! Ye’ll send th’ lads after me?! BOYO I JUST BLEW UP HALF A BLOODY CITY TA GET NELEN YA THINK I GIVE A SHITE?!”
Nelen felt like he'd just been the victim of an elaborate and twisted prank, “Whaaaaaat is happening here?” he asked.
The two kids looked back and forth at each other in shock. They’d heard rumors about the mad warrior woman of Clan Fullmoon… but, in hindsight, they’d heard rumors about her.
“Banish me? Ye’ll banish ME? Frankie ye ol’ scrote ah can kick th’ arse o’ any o’ th’ lads ye care ta name!” she snorted. “Nae gramps, ye canna fire me…” she nodded, tossing the phone over her shoulder towards the other four, then in a flash of steel she spun, drew her blade, and sliced the phone in half with a crackle of electronics. “… ah quit.”
Nelen stared down at the wrecked smartphone, then looked up at Loren with an expression like he didn't really believe what he'd just heard, “You… quit?”
“Aye, ah bleedin’ quit. Ah warned ‘im, ye send me after anythin’ that ain’t actually harmin’ people again, ah bloody walk ‘n ta hell with th’ lot o’ ‘em.” she nodded, grinning at them. “Frankie needs me ah sight more ‘n I need Clan Fullmoon, ah’ve been considerin’ goin’ independent fer a while now.”
Nelen blinked slowly, “Huh… well then…” he muttered, slowly coming to grips with the fact that his life may not be immediately in danger anymore.
“Aye, well, ah’d best be moseyin’ on afore Johnny Law comes by ta ask ‘bout dem burnin’ buildin’s…” she muttered, turning to leave, and then Nelen remembered what his mother had said right before Loren had shot his phone out of his hand.
“Hey, hang on. Something that’s been bugging the hell outta me Loren.” he said, taking a step forward.
“Aye?” she paused, looking back.
“The men of Clan Fullmoon are all superhumanly strong, but…” he trailed off, gesturing to her.
She laughed, “Ah yeah, Frankie been tellin’ everyone ta shut up ‘bout dat lil’ detail!” she smirked. “’tis th’ Maven’s magicks what gives us our power boyo, ‘n magic dunnae care about yer body. It be an expression o’ whats inside ye, th’ soul aye?” she nodded, tapping her chest, “Ye think ah be wearin’ this binder fer th’ fun o’ it?”
Nelen cocked his head at her, “Wait… so… you’re… what, transmasc?” he asked.
She shrugged, “Eh, dunnae if I wanna say that, but ah ain’t one fer pretty dresses ‘n tea parties. Definitely leanin’ more lad ‘n lass if ye ken me meanin’. Dunnae give a shit what someone calls me neither. Ah can kick anyone’s arse, man or woman or whathaveye, so what do I care?” she grinned.
Nelen nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. This was the first he'd ever heard of any of this at all, “Okay… huh… that happens with the clan?”
Loren grinned, “Aye… it does, both ways too.”
“Both… ways…” muttered Nelen… and then both he and Stephanie turned to look at the skinny, small, and very deep in the closet Fullmoon boy standing between them.
“… buh?” blinked Stephen Fullmoon, the ‘runt’ of Clan Fullmoon.
Loren nodded, “Aye, both ways.” she smirked, “If ye know a scrawny Fullmoon lad, have ‘em give ye a whistle sometime.” she said, then blinked as she heard sirens nearby, “Ah bugger. Nelen, mind makin’ one o’ yer magic doors?” she asked.
Nelen nodded, “Yeaaaaaah… we should get going.” he replied, “Um, see ya later kids.” he said, putting his hand to a wall as the door to the Wulfshead materialized and saying the words, then the two adult Fullmoons and Dawn vanished into the club as the door vanished.
Stephen blinked slowly, “… she… they… what?” he muttered.
Stephanie looked at him, “I… uh… huh so that’s a… thing…” she said, looking back at the wall they’d vanished through.
It was a long while before Stephanie could sneak out again, her mother watching her like a hawk after the incident that had left a good chunk of Covington a mess. Thankfully however it seemed that a lot of the rumors about Loren were, indeed, just that. Rumors. While she had used grenades to try to flush out Nelen, she’d purposely aimed at storefronts which were guaranteed to be empty at that hour.
After about a month of the more conservative politicians screaming ‘terrorism’ and wanting to use it as an excuse to crack down on anyone who looked too Middle Eastern for their liking, the blowback from the ACLU and anyone with two braincells to rub together, and such had settled the stores got their insurance payouts and everything slowly got back to normal.
Stephanie stood inside another former speakeasy that Stephen had known about, waiting for him to come out of what was once their restroom, a portable lantern sitting on the old bar. Covington was along the Ohio River and had been a major destination for illegal alcohol during prohibition, the city had its share of secret beer halls.
Eventually the door opened and he timidly walked out, looking up at her.
He was wearing a sleeveless green button-down top, one of her spare denim skirts, and a pair of leather velcro-strap sandals, his face flushed. “Um… w-well?” he asked.
She pursed her lips, tapping her chin, “Hair needs work, like, a lot of work… but not bad. You wanna go sleeveless when you can so it doesn’t get in the way of your wings when you transform, same with your legs. Shorts and skirts are your friend. Winter is really sucky for us since it gets too cold to fly properly.” she nodded.
“… for us.” he blushed, squirming at that thought.
She nodded, then blushed herself, “So, um… any thoughts on your name?” she asked.
He hesitated, “I… don’t really wanna get rid of it entirely… I mean, mom picked it out.” he replied, “Dad got rid of all the old stuffed animals and such she gave me when we were little during one of his more sober moments, so besides a quilt my name is really all I got left from her anymore.” he admitted. “So, uh… yanno how we call you ‘Steffi’ sometimes? Maybe… me too? ‘Stephy,’ but with a ‘pee ech why’ on the end?” he tried.
Stephanie tilted her head, “Hmm…” she hopped up, padding over to him across the dusty floor, “Yanno, you do kinda look like a Stephy.” she giggled, then fished a hairbrush out of her bag, “Now, get on one of the bar stools, I’ll see what we can do there.” she grinned.
“Uh, aren’t we gonna go out and deal with, I dunno, stuff?” he asked.
“Eh, they’re all laying low incase Loren comes back. Tonight’s Girl’s Night.” she grinned.
Stephen, or rather Stephy, gave a sheepish grin back, “Yeah… girls night…” he replied.
Stephy wasn’t ready to drop the ‘he’ part either, he was still feeling things out, but Loren’s reveal showed him he wasn’t as powerless as his father believed him to be. He didn’t dare try it at home, but Stephanie had told him she’d help him however she could and even teach him what she’d found out about her own powers, as well as help him figure out his own identity.
Magic moratoriums and gender norms, nobody broke rules like witches.
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tagged by @evergardenwall
it's a long one. it's late so i let myself get carried away, particularly in one question (if you scroll you'll know what i mean).
i'd feel kind of bad tagging anyone in this post since i just ramble a lot. but as always (even though i know no one ever accepts these open invitations), if you want to do it and you haven't been tagged, tag me as having said i did. i'd like to see.
1. what book are you currently reading?
technically none? i've mentioned before but i was reading New Finnish Grammar by Diego Marani a while ago and it's been sitting in my 'to finish' pile for months now but since i do English and have to read for that it's just been sitting on the backburner.
i have since bought about eleven other books that i'm determined to read over the course of 2023 that i'm really excited for but i'll finish New Finnish Grammar hopefully before the new semester starts.
2. what do you usually wear?
a t-shirt, a jumper and jeans. i am but a simple lad.
i pretty much only own jeans and i've been trying for years to expand my wardrobe but alas...
3. how tall are you?
164cm. yeah yeah. i know. i'm small. yuck it up.
4. what’s your star sign? do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event?
sagittarius and i don't think so
5. do you go by your name or a nickname?
online i always go by Yellow, i probably recognise it as my name more than my actual name at this point.
6. did you grow up to become what you wanted to be as a child?
what i wanted to be as a child was a vet (then when i figured that wouldn't work like a year later, i decided i wanted to work in an animal shelter before 2015 hit). so no, considering i'm not on that career track.
outside of careers though also no. unfortunately, somewhere along the line i found out about genders and that kind of fucked shit up a bunch. don't think young me would be impressed that i actually wear trousers now
7. what’s something you’re good at vs something you’re bad at?
man i dunno what i'm good at. i'm pretty alright at the trombone. similarly i don't know what i'm bad enough at that it's notable. maths in general i guess.
8. if you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year?
i actually... it feels kind of narcissistic of me to say but i have a few favourite sections from my writing this year i like and yes i will share them. anyone who ends up reading this i know will skip this section but it's for my own sake.
the first two are from the chapter A Night Seems Termless Hell (Lang’s the Night Frae E’en to Morn) which is a set of loosely connected one-shots. this particular one i remember being really happy with after. i still kind of am (as you can probably tell). the third is from my portfolio piece - the second half of which was rushed and i don't particularly like but i love the first part still.
"Wandering the streets he no longer knew, towards a guiding light artificial in a way he’d once been familiar with, he felt out of place. Too big for the city he had grown up in. Too small for the world he’d once felt suffocated in. Tears pricked at his eyes but he’d already cried all of his tears back in Hisui and had none left for his own world."
___
"He didn’t know how to cook before he left for space. He’d always assumed [his mother would] be the one to teach him [...] she’d tell him on the rare occasions he was home before dinner and willing to help that it was alright for him to stay her little boy for a little while longer. He didn’t need to help and she’d let him know that that was alright.
He could cook now, taught by a man that lived in a mountain that had taken him in when he hadn’t needed to. A man that Yuga knew his mother would love but would never get to meet."
___
"She’d skipped that step, of course, because she was one step ahead. She always was, because she read a lot of books and books were made of paper which came from trees. That meant that the wisdom of old trees had transferred into her as she read. She understood things that her parents and brother didn’t. Her mum read but was too busy to read as much as her. Her dad and brother weren’t big on reading. That was fine. Anya could be smart enough for all of them."
9. dogs or cats?
i don't really have a preference. i like them both for their own reasons.
10. what’s something you would like to create content for?
amatsuki!! i have an idea but i probably won't do anything other than think about it. it's written down though so i won't forget, so who knows.
11. what’s something you’re currently obsessed with?
amatsuki and yugioh, big shocker there i'm sure. also sea slugs and dictionaries.
12. what’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?
i don't think i went into this year particularly expecting anything
13. what’s a hidden talent of yours?
if i have any talents they're hidden from me too
14. what’s something you wish to have at this moment?
money
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favorite crime ✧ t.holland
summary: all the things you did for this relationship, you were really hoping that you were his favorite crime.
warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, a little bit of crying, Harrison being the best lad ever, leaving Tessa.
a/n: oh god this song hit in the wrong places but anyways, this not have a lot of conversations and it's short but painful so yeah, hope you like it! request are open, also english it's not my first language so i'm so sorry about any mistake. take care of yourself pls <3 (not my gif)
You took a big breath of air and stood on your tiptoes to reach for the purple suitcase on top of the closet. It was already decided, today you would leave.
The house was beginning to feel empty. Some of your pants were still in the drawers, waiting to be put away. But, your favorite mugs along with your shoes were already packed in another suitcase in the living room.
"You'll be right here when i get back, right?"
"Of course, Tommy."
Bullshit.
Those were the last words you shared with your "boyfriend" in the morning and the last words you would share for a long time. You ached for those two sentences, because you knew that somehow you would always wait for him no matter what.
Memories began to flood your mind as you opened a drawer and Tom's scent wafted into the air for a few moments. It was going to be hard to get used to a new smell.
Your relationship had probably started in the worst way; you and Tom met in a bar, the night fell and you fell into his bed only to find out later that he had a girlfriend and you were the "other".
At some point this wasn't sitting right with you, it wasn't just casual sex anymore, the two of you were falling in love without thinking about what might happen in the future and that was just fucked up.
He finally broke up with her, that meant he was all yours. Although, your heart was broken when you found out that the Spider-Man filming was over and he had to go back to London with his family.
The two of you agreed to have a long distance relationship, and so it was, for five months the only thing that kept you close to him was a screen and video calls at three in the morning because of the time difference.
Until you came up with the idea of buying an apartment in London and surprising him. Probably the best and worst idea of your whole life, but you were living your love story, who cares?
You met his family and friends some time later. At this point you knew it was serious and you knew what you were getting into.
Then came the move, and finally you could share a bed with him for the rest of your days.
Or that's what you thought.
Thursday last week, 4 am. Your need to make pee woke you from your sleep and so you had to leave the bed to head to the bathroom as quickly as possible.
Tom's cell phone was "charging" in the bathroom socket, although it really was plugged in wrong and didn't even have 2%.
Nothing bad was going to happen if you checked it, right? You knew it was wrong, but Tom's indifference these past few weeks told you to do it.
Tears started to fall in the sink when some messages with "Samantha" didn't look like friends, but something else.
It took you a week to process whether you should stay and deal with it, or if you should just run away and pretend this never happened and start over in another country.
And the latter option was the one that caught your attention the most.
You plopped down on the couch, taking a second to watch as the house looked lifeless and the two suitcases in front of you were packed.
You started crying again, you still couldn't believe that your fairy tale had ended right here. And just as it started, with a cheating relationship.
Tessa came up to you as soon as she heard your sobs and started licking your face to wipe away your tears, having no idea what was going on.
"Oh Tess, i'm sure that you are the only one who's gonna miss me." you ran your hand and over her head and pushed her a little so you could get up and put water and kibble on her plates.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later and you mentally prepared yourself for what was to come. You opened it and found Harrison, who pursed his lips into a line when he saw you.
"I'm gonna lock the doors and leave Tessa outside, 'm right back." you told him and he just nodded, giving a quick glance around the house, noticing the sadness overflowing from the walls. You really were the joy of the place.
When you returned your things were gone and Harrison was waiting for you in the car, so you assumed he had already taken them up.
The drive was silent, only the faint melody of the radio could be heard. And somehow you were glad it was like that.
"Are you sure that you want to do this?" he asked as he lowered the last suitcase from the back seat.
"Yeah. I mean, I don't belong to London and I have nothing to do here. He's got a new girl and I'm sure he'll be fine." you replied with a bittersweet smile.
"What about you? You're gonna be fine?" his question really got you thinking, you'll be fine without Tom? Sure he'll be fine without you, but what about you?
"I guess I'll find out eventually," you grimaced and nodded, then checked the time on the watch on your left hand. "Thank you for bringing me here, and for everything, i guess."
"It's nothing, what you deserve." he shrugged his shoulders and moved closer to you so he could hug you, resting his chin on your head.
"I hope when you see the chain you are now wearing you will remember me." you broke off and played with the chain hanging from his neck, for you had given it to him on his birthday.
"I will, i promise." he said between a little laugh and the atmosphere was silent for a moment.
"Come on, Haz. Give me another hug." you moved closer again and when your head made contact with his chest you felt your eyes get wet again.
"Don't cry because i'm gonna cry, dumbass." he said as he felt his shirt get a little wet and tears began to fill his eyes.
"Goodbye." you sighed and picked up your suitcases to start carrying them to the entrance.
"Have a good flight." was the last thing he said before he opened the car door so he could get in and drive home.
The flight was leaving in an hour and a half but you had to be there earlier to check in and you had already done that, so there was nothing left to do but wait for the call.
You turned on your phone and your wallpaper caught you, realizing you hadn't changed it yet. It was a picture where you and Tom were sitting on the grass, away from everyone and in your faces you could see the happiness, at what point did it vanish?
Time passed quickly and when you remembered you were already climbing the stairs to get on the plane, until you felt your phone vibrate and you knew instantly who it was.
Tom's name next to a heart lit up your screen, and you stepped out of line to think if you were really doing the right thing and not overreacting.
"It's everything okay, miss?" the flight attendant asked when she noticed you stopped moving forward and you were practically the last one left to board the plane.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry." you apologized and turned off your cell phone to enter the plane, accepting your fate, without turning back.
"Welcome to flight 230, London to Canada."
When the plane took off, you were hoping that you were his favorite crime.
#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland imagine#tom holland fluff#oneshot#tom holland angst#tom holland x you#peter parker#tom holland smut#peter parker smut
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if fate permits
chapter twenty two: i love you
previous < masterpost > next
note. i am sorry for the veeeery long wait; i finally finished it tonight (after fucking up with it for two whole months) but yeah, my emotions are quite unstable right now so this was affected by it (in short, this is a roller coaster ride so pls be ready)
playlist. stay (acoustic ver.); never let me go (both sung by ghostly kisses)
You absolutely had no idea what you were doing right now. As far as you could remember, you were the playwright, the writer of the script. You never had any interest in acting in plays, musicals, nor acting in general… none at all – so why is it that right now, you were standing right on the side of the stage, waiting for the cue for you to come out, dressed up as someone you weren’t supposed to be, someone you were only supposed to have written for?
You swear, this was the most chaotic crowd you have ever seen your whole life. You only watched, alongside Hajime, as people lined up right by the entrance of the university’s theater, murmuring and gossiping about the play that was less than an hour away from starting, “I gotta say, they look way too excited for a story that they should know like the back of their hands by now. It’s kind of funny,” Hajime chuckled, letting out a quiet ‘yeah’ as he shoved his hands in his pockets, watching you cringe on the girls that were obviously here for your best friend. You swore you heard one of them say they’re going to ask him out after the play and you almost wanted to drag her out of the venue by her hair.
“I would say it would be a waste of a ticket for people who are here just to gush about handsome faces instead of the story itself but then again, it’s us who are benefiting from it anyway.” You huffed and muttered a few more things under your breath, beginning to walk to the direction of the entrance for the crew members which was on the farther side of the theater, Hajime silently following and shaking his head out of amusement for your obvious jealousy. I can’t wait for the time when it’s me you’re being jealous for, he thinks.
You thought the crowd outside was chaotic? Nothing could have prepared you for the view you were welcomed to as soon as you entered the backstage. Literally, almost all of the crew members were running around frantically, pushing the small and large props here and there. Hajime, as if he had his ‘danger’ instincts set on, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to his side just right when a random lad passed by where you were at a while ago, struggling to carry what looked like a heavy log on his shoulder (you figured it would be for one of the scenes that were supposed to be in the forest). You were sure as hell that if you weren’t moved out of the way by your friend, the lad would’ve collided with you and that thing he was holding would’ve fell on you because he was too busy looking back and chatting with his companion who was carrying other props.
Irritated by their carelessness, Hajime clicked his tongue and spoke up, “Oi, you two have to be careful and watch where you’re going. You might just cause an accident with what you’re doing.” The boys replied with an insincere apology, immediately going back to their business. You were soon brought to your senses as well and realized that you were still in his arms. Blushing profusely, you muttered a quiet ‘thanks,’ too flustered to think of a more decent reply. Hajime raised an eyebrow, smirking before leaning his head close to yours again, foreheads touching each other, much like the other day.
“You’re red. Are you feeling sick?” If it was someone he wasn’t close with, it would look like he’s just being concerned but you know better because you can practically hear the teasing behind his voice, so, you punched him right by his shoulders, muttering with a hint of shyness in your tone, “Asshole. Stop trying to tease me, it’s way too much for me. When the fuck did you even get so brave to act like this with me? Jerk.”
He cackled, slinging his arm around your shoulder, and beginning to pull you deeper inside the backstage. You both stood idly by the corner of the backstage, watching the actors get ready. From your position, you could see your blonde best friend, eyes looking lost as they wandered around the area until it stopped right to where you were. You think you held a staring contest for about twenty seconds until your companion spoke up, “You know, I personally think it would be better if you go to him and say your good luck, yeah? Nothing’s going to happen if you just stare at each other all day. I’m willing to share you with him… just for today though. After this, no more.”
A confused expression formed on your face, wondering what he meant, though he just snickered and ruffled your head, “I said… go to him before I change my mind and pull you away from here.”
“I can’t. These days, I’ve been feeling way too many feelings and I don’t know how to control them. I feel like… I might just burst and tell him everything but I don’t want to. I’m not ready yet,” you admitted, fiddling with your fingers as you looked down, only for your head to be raised up again as Hajime held it up using your chin, a tender smile plastered on his face.
“Tell you what… if you lose control and everything goes astray, just look at me and I’ll save you, like a knight-in-shining-armor,” he whispers, patting you on the head before pushing you towards your best friend who was still looking, by the way. You took a deep breath, stopping right in front of him, biting your lip before opening your mouth to say something but Atsumu beat you to it, arms immediately going around your form and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, “I’m sorry,” He mumbles into your hair, while you nod, reciprocating the gesture, “I… I’ve been such a shitty best friend, huh?”
“Yeah, right,” You huffed, trying to look mad and intimidating but it only came off as cute in Atsumu’s vocabulary, “After this, I’ll treat you to this really good restaurant. We can talk about anything and everything you want to tell me, even if they’re bad, I’ll listen, yeah?” He suggested, his hold on you still not loosening as he looked down on you, “I’d prefer it if only good things come out of your pretty mouth though.”
You rolled your eyes, getting ready to retort as usual but a loud crash and a cry of pain interrupted you. Looking to the source of the sound, your eyes, as well as Atsumu’s widened. You can only watch as Yui, who was on the floor, clutching her ankles, angrily screech at the boy who was bowing his head and apologizing, the large piece of wood you luckily avoided a while ago found its victim and it’s the main actress of the play, “What the fuck! Why weren’t you watching where you’re going?! Look at what you did!”
Your best friend jogged towards her and once again, you were left behind. Love seriously sucks, you thought as you watch him try to shush Yui’s cries. The director, who heard about the situation, ran to where you are, asking what happened. “I think her ankles are injured, Miyu-chan,” you quickly replied, anxiety beginning to arise within you because what was supposed to happen now? You can’t cancel this play; you all have been working for months for this! Besides, the theater must be full of the audience now. As if she was reading your mind, she spoke up, “We can’t cancel this now, but we can’t force her to act as well. She can barely stand up, look. Mina, tell Mari to ask the audience to wait for a little while more, we have to think of a solution.”
By now, Atsumu was supporting her, making their way towards you with Yui limping, “Miyu-san…” “No, Yui. I know what you’re going to say but I won’t let you do that. Go to the infirmary and have your ankles checked. Your well-being is more important than this play,” the director firmly said, much to the brown-haired girl’s dismay.
“But you can’t cancel it! The people who bought the tickets will get mad! I can do this, it barely hurts, Miyu-san!” Yui pleaded, even going as far lifting her injured foot in a pathetic attempt to show that she was fine but it only put her to a worse situation as soon as she winced. Miyu only gave her a look of ‘I told you so.’
“Don’t worry about the play, Yui-chan. YN can replace you in your role.”
“What?!” “WHAT?” You simultaneously yelled out, obviously not expecting the sudden decision to be made, much less one that has something to do with you, “Wait, wait, wait… Miyu-chan, aren’t you being a little rash right now? I’m not a good actress!”
“She’s right!” Yui scoffed, “I’ve been practicing this for so long and you’re going to replace me with someone who never did?!”
“That’s right,” Miyu nodded, crossing her arms, “She knows the script and the lines better than anyone here. And don’t try to fool me, YN, you know you can act.” Her unrelenting eyes told you that she knew everything there was to know; she’s been your friend for more than a year now, after all.
“Oh, well. You won’t change my mind no matter what you say, so just go, Yui. Iwaizumi-kun, sorry for this sudden request but can you take Yui to the infirmary after what we’re going to do?” Hajime blinked but nodded, nonetheless. He feels somewhat sorry for the brunette who was on the verge of tears as she was helped by the crew members into one of the changing rooms to undress her costume.
It’s definitely not the first time in your life but you felt like vomiting the breakfast you had this morning.
You already lost count of how many times you took a deep breath in hopes that your heart will calm down. You listened as Mari neared the end of her welcoming rites and speech for the play, placing your hands on your chest as a final attempt to get tranquility within. The fairytale-like background music began to play and soon, a younger version of your character appeared on the stage; it’s the beginning of your Cinderella play. To be honest, you don’t even know where they got that child actress and how they managed to convince her to join the play but right now, you couldn’t care less because all you’re thinking of right now is how to not mess up your lines and deliver them with the proper emotions.
Your brother, Osamu, Tooru, Makki and Mattsun, who you were sure as hell were in the audience, will never let you hear the end of it if you mess this up. You don’t want to live the rest of your days in Japan being a laughingstock. No way, you refu–
“You’re thinking too much about it. Calm down,” A voice from behind you interrupted, hands beginning to massage your shoulders to get your stiff muscles to relax. Turning around, you were met with the one and only Miya Atsumu in a prince costume. Right there and then, you felt like your heart’s going to burst for a different reason this time.
Goodness heavens, Lord Jesus, thank you for blessing me with this beautiful man and letting me meet him, you thought as you savored the view in front of you, also thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Miya for successfully creating Atsumu and delivering him to the Earth, it must have difficult to produce such fine masterpiece.
“Ya look… beautiful,” the blonde mutters, a hand rubbing his nape and sheepishly grinning, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, “Ya should dress up yourself from time to time, yanno? It really suits you.”
“Gee, thanks for calling me ugly on my normal days,” you scoffed, giggling when he let out a sound of disagreement, “No! That’s not what I meant, idiot!”
“I know.”
Before you can continue your conversation, the signal for you to come out is finally closing in as the “stepsisters” appeared onstage. Rather shakily, you took a step forward, almost tripping on your dress due to your nerves. You were fortunate that Atsumu was attentive enough to grab your wrist, “YN, I told you to calm down.”
You gulped, nodding and taking a deep breath. He smiled upon seeing the determined look on your face and for some reason, his body moved on its own - placing a hand on your cheek with his thumb rubbing it, he approached you and placed his lips on your forehead. Maybe it’s because you were so nervous or maybe it’s because you longed for this moment for almost your whole life. Whatever the reason is, you just find yourself tearing up a little bit as he whispers, “That’s my girl.”
Never in your life had you wished that time can stop this much before. As you stood still in Atsumu’s embrace, you felt your heart being squeezed with so much love yet pain at the same time. How is it that he’s so close yet he’s someone you can’t have?
“I love you, Atsumu,” you tell him, eyes still watery; heart hoping that it reaches him, that he picks up the meaning behind your words. But he doesn’t, as he stops to look at you, he squints his eyes in a joking manner as he speaks, “Hey, why do you look so emotional today?”
Disappointment grows in the depths of your whole being, though you don’t show him that. Because perhaps this was enough, you can try again another day. You’ll try and try until he finally understands. You can do that… you’ve been holding on pretty well the past fifteen years, so you huff instead, ignoring the painful thump of your heart, “Nothing, you jerk! Is it really that weird to hear me say I love you to you, hah?!”
You hear the dialogue of one of the stepsisters, calling out as your cue. You start to trudge forward but before you could fully go, he replies, “I love you too, YN, always remember that although I’m so shitty sometimes.”
Yeah, this is enough for now.
Perhaps, you shouldn’t have been so confident in saying that; you should’ve just been straight to the point because nothing has ever compared to the agony engulfing your insides as Miya Atsumu sat in front of you in a random booth of a restaurant, speaking the words you’ve always dreaded to hear as a Moira and as his very own soulmate, “YN, I think I’m done waiting for my soulmate. Can’t you just cut my thread off please?”
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu smau#atsumu x reader#iwaizumi x reader#atsumu headcanons#iwaizumi headcanons#atsumu smau#iwaizumi smau#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu angst#haikyuu texts
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THE SLEEPOVER FIC | Part 9 The Fluff
Summary: You and James have put yourselves into trouble, but you think maybe it’s hotter that way.
Notes: James Acaster,
Pairing: James Acaster x Reader
Genre: Fluff, , Slow Burn fic
Words: 1,472
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9
In the evening there came a knock at your door. Four gentle raps and you recognised the tune. Ed. He stepped inside your apartment, and you graced him with confusion.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, am I okay to come in?”
The two of you stood in your hallway, plagued in an awkward silence. The corner of his mouth flicking up in amusement. You felt nervous, as though he somehow miraculously knew about the things you’d done the night before with James.
James was (you presumed) back at his own place after having gone to work with Ed. He’d agreed with you when you opened the suggestion of keeping things on the low in relation to Ed knowing about your casual dating. Still somewhere you didn’t know entirely if you could trust James yet. And so Ed being here moved you into a panic.
“Are you okay?” Ed said inquisitively as he walked into your living room, brows furrowed, fronting his entertainment by your nervous disposition.
“Yeah yeah. I just wasn't expecting you at all.”
“Oh sorry are you expecting someone?”
“No its fine, place is just a bit of a mess that's all”
You looked around your apartment. Having just returned home there still sat yours and James’s glasses from the night before, as well as your discarded underwear beside the sofa. You hurried over to them, while Ed lingered beside the television.
“Wild Sunday night?” He teased.
You blushed, nodding. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, although stopping as soon as you began from the jolt of pain it caused you. Their sensitivity and tiredness still lingered from James’s rough treatment.
He’d walked you all the way to your studio building this morning. Even offering to bring you some lunch later on as you hadn’t had a chance to prepare anything last night. You declined thankfully, saying you didn’t mind the opportunity to visit a cafe close to work as Olive kept raving about their lunchtime menu. He left you with a polite smile, by asking when he could see you again.
“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone y/n”
“Um yeah. Just sort of happened”
“Ah. I see” Ed moved closer to the now tidied up couch area, gesturing with his hands. “Is there anywhere I shouldn't sit?”
Images of you and James presenting themselves in the forefront of your mind unclothed and in bliss covering the sofa. You paused for a moment to consider where the purest area was. Your stomach doing flips upon realisation that on every cushion you had (unforgettably) fucked his best mate. Pointing to the left you figured was safest. Cunnilingus didn’t seem too bad compared to cowgirl.
“There.” you suggested and Ed sat down.
“Oh I invited James by the way. He’s not got much on since Sarah’s out of town so I figured we could keep him company. Hope that's alright.”
Your bloodflow stopped, unsure of whether or not you could handle the pressure of being around the two of them together. Another knock came at the door, James entering in a panic.
“Y/n I’m sorry I-” He spoke hurriedly before cutting himself off upon noticing Ed already plopped on the couch. His eyes went a little wide before he composed himself. You could see him picturing the two of you in his own mind for a hot minute.
You stood dumbly with your underwear and wine glasses in hand. “Come on in James, don’t be shy.”
“Sorry I” He came up with an excuse for his hurried entrance. “I thought I was late?”
He of course didn’t think he was late. The underlying truth in actuality was that he’d ran to your apartment in an attempt to arrive before Ed and explain away the coincidence.
“No you’re alright, I just got here mate.”
“Ah, right then.”
A numb silence ensued and you took the opportunity to regain some dignity and toss your pants into your bedroom. James watched you nervously, he was still dressed in the cl0othes you’d given him this morning. It was starting to feel as though he lived there.
“Shall I order takeaway?” Ed opened into the flat. And as James made his way over to the sofa he gave him a polite nod - stating “I wouldn’t sit there if I were you.”
However - James ignored his remark sitting comfortably, one arm on the rest. Ed pulled his phone out as you disposed of the glasses in your kitchen sink.
“Sorry Y/n, you’re not busy are you I should have called ahead mate.”
“No no, I’m free its okay!” You insisted, trying to haul yourself through the awkward air.
James was staring at you. His quietness giving you a hint of anxiety. He looked devilish sitting in that spot so comfortably, as though he was non the wiser to the things that’d happened on it last night. Catching you meet his eye he flashed you a knowing smile as you took a seat across the coffee table. He seemed to be enjoying this, as though it was a game only the two of you knew about.
“Nice to see you again Y/n,” The smug bastard nodded at you. You knew he was doing this to slip you up.
“You too,” Two could play at that game. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh just living life.”
“Do anything special at the weekend?”
His cockiness sank from his facial expression. The corner of your mouth twitching with amusement as he scrambled for words. Ed chipped in when he didn’t respond right away. “James?”
“Er yeah. Just trying to think.”
“Don’t strain yourself Jesus.”
“Haha. No, just the usual.”
“Right,” Ed questioned, “Should we get a takeaway? My treat?”
Your mouth watered at the thought. You couldn’t care less if it was a Monday, you’d had a stressful week already.
“God yes.” You moaned, causing James to look at the floor. Crossing one leg over the other. “Wagamama?”
“I’m not bothered either way.”
“I’m fine with Wagas”
Time passed of you ordering food and casual chats between the three of you. You and James occasionally chatting to each other for too long before catching yourself out. Ed didn’t seem to mind all that much as he kept checking how close your order was to arrival the moment that you’d placed it.
It was about 45 mins later when Ed received a phone call from the rider, being unable to locate your flat he was making his way out to door to find him. You and James finally alone in the kitchen, preparing bowls for the three of you.
“Y/n,” He said, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I swear Ed suggested this I would never just invite myself back I was trying to get here before him, but my phone was dead. God I’m sorry.”
You turned to him, holding back a smile from how flustered he was.
“Its alright, Ed already said he’d invited you before you arrived. Plus,” You started, “I guess I like spending time with you.”
“You guess?”
“Hmm,”
“That’s not what you said last night.” He responded sarcastically, encouraging you to playfully tap his chest.
“Shut up,” You laughed, a gentle smile forming on your mouth. You were beginning to get more comfortable in the solitude of his company. Something you hadn’t felt yourself doing in years. It felt easy now the air had been cleared between the two of you. You just wanted Sarah to come back so he could finish things properly, then you wouldn’t have to worry about Ed. “How was your day?”
“I’ve not sopped thinking about you.”
“Quite the romancer aren’t you?”
“What can I say. Born this way, Lady Gaga behbeh.”
You looked into his playful eyes. A warmness overcoming you, you thought maybe you might allow yourself to fall in love this time. You deserved it after so long. You arched your heels away from the floor, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. You could not resist it. A shy smile grew on his face, and you swore you could see a faint tinge of pink forming on his ears.
The two of you heard the door open, quickly pulling away from one another in an unnatural manner. Hurriedly making yourself busy with cutlery and bowls.
“Found the feast!” Ed’s voice called out from the corridor, as James lent over to whisper in you ear.
“I like you” with a stupid, cavity inducing grin.
“I like you too James”
HI HI! Long time no see lads. Bit of a shorter chapter today as I’ve been in a little bit of a writing slump with this fic. Trying to plan the direction I want to take it in, Hopefully now I’ll be a bit more on track with updates as I’m aiming for for quality over quantity moving forwards. Thank you for your patience, support and love! - Lu xoxo
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Come Home With Me
Pairing: Thomas Raggi x GN!reader
Wc: 1.6k
Cw(s): Lil bit of swearing, friends being dicks, drinking, smoking, nothing bad really (tell me if it sucks)
Summary: Thomas spots you at the bar one night, and its as if the two of you are soulmates *not a soulmate AU, just really fluffy*
Masterlist
"Come home with me."
What the fuck was wrong with this boy? This drunken stranger at the bar? He was beautiful, he was a grace to look at. But he was still young; young enough to not quite be able to hold his liquor well.
You smiled to him and leaned against the brick wall behind you, taking a deep drag from the fag between your fingers. "And who might you be?"
"The man who's gonna marry you!" He announced as he leaned beside you, against the wall. His eyes closed heavily but his smile had never weakened. Innocence came off of him in waves, with just a hint of allure. It was a strange mixture, but not unheard of. Just as the stranger relaxed, his friend came over; seemingly, he had been looking for your handsome stranger.
"Thomas! Jesus, Man, we've turned the joint upside down for you," he laughed, putting his hand on your stranger's shoulder. Thomas' friend smiled you, as he pushed his dark hair over his shoulder. "He saw you in the bar and had been wanting to talk to you for hours. I'm really sorry about his state."
Once again, your small chuckle filled the air along with your smoke. "He's quite sweet." Your eyes drifted from Thomas' friend to Thomas, himself. He was looking at you with a face red from bashfulness along with a boozy glow. You looked back to the friend. "Is he always like this? Even sober?"
"Not quite," Thomas' friend chuckled, looking at Thomas and shaking his head. He looked back to you as you threw the butt of your fag into a tray. "What're you doing out here? You can smoke in there."
"My group ditched me. I was waiting out here to see if anyone would come back for me, but alas I am on my own," you explained with a numbed smile.
Perhaps it was an overshare, but you couldn't control your words. Not entirely. It was your friends' faults for feeding you drinks, then abandoning you like a kid at Sunday school. Honestly, it was sort of rude, and now you had to walk about half an hour back to your flat in heels. You were allowed to be at least a little bitter.
Both boys frowned as you tucked your hands in your pockets. "I've got a hike ahead of me. Adieu, Lads."
Just as you began to step away, you were stopped by Thomas, "Woah, wait, you can't walk alone!" His peace had been broken by your statement. You turned your head as he came up beside you, being a bit taller than you. "Streets are dangerous at night, especially for such a vision as you." Thomas smiled at you, his eyes twinkling in the street light. "Let me walk you to the top of your street. I don't even need to know your address, I just need to know you're safe."
How could you refuse?
"You're a peach," you sighed contently. Thomas beamed at you and back to Ethan. He seemed a little surprised in Thomas' chivalry, but he smiled to both of you and waved as you both began to walk off into the distance.
"Did your friends really leave you?"
"One fuck of a topic to jump into, right off the bat."
Thomas seemed embarrassed. "I didn't-I didn't mean to-"
"I'm just being an asshole, Man," you laughed, walking into him and shoving him lightly. Thomas' worry faded into a very natural smile. As if he didn't know he was smiling, yet it seemed to occupy his features so kindly. You had to tear your eyes from his intoxicating smile, to focus on the road ahead. "Yeah, they really left me. Stranded me at a bar on a Saturday night, to be walked home by a total stranger."
"That's shitty."
"Fucking right." A chuckle was shared just before you dug your cigarettes out of your pocket. A tin of hand rolled cigarettes. You extended the tin to Thomas, "Care for a blem?"
God, that smile was sure to be the death of you, especially tonight. He scooped one out lazily, but with the most relaxed movement, as if he was meant to be doing exactly that, in that exact moment. "You're a peach."
Another laugh. You stopped to light your cigarette, as well as Thomas'. He leaned in so close that you could feel the heat come off of him, and you also picked up on his smell. Thomas was potentially the best smelling human you'd ever met. He smelt as if a pine forest went up in flames, a couple months ago, while the wood was perfectly dried out.
Your feet knew their way home better than you did, so you both followed them as you both partook in mindless conversation and countless fags. Footsteps matched footsteps, minds matched minds, laughter bounced off laughter.
That is, until you found yourself in front of your flat complex, but walking right by it as if it didn't exist at all. You were on a mission now. To take Thomas to your favourite hill, that overlooked a bit of Rome and a lot of trees. It was where you usually went to collect your thoughts, and it hadn't even occurred to you that Thomas would be the first person you'd ever taken there. The man who was apparently going to marry you - no better person, in your mind.
"You're homeless?" Thomas asked as you plopped down in your grassy spot. You laughed and pulled him to sit beside you, which he did without much effort.
"No, we passed my flat."
His beautiful eyebrows drew together under that immaculate hair of his, as confusion layered Thomas' face. "Why didn't we stop?"
"I didn't want the conversation to stop, and this is my favourite spot in the city," you said, looking from Thomas to the view ahead of you. Thomas looked as well, seemingly softening to your favourite spot. You admired his side profile for a second before adding, "But, if you'd like to go back to your place, I'm more than okay with that."
"Who said I wanted the conversation to stop?" As he spoke those words, Thomas turned his head back to you. His eyes held the light of the sun, and the kindness of some manner of deity. You found yourself smiling in the exact same way Thomas was smiling.
For a little while, you sat in silence, looking over your view, stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. It was broken only for a second, to share the final cigarette in your tin. Even without words to fill the air, the air felt full. It was like a full pool of still water that you had no problem disturbing, but why ruin it? You'd never felt so comfortable, and you never wanted the moment to end.
All good things must come to an end, you knew this. And this good thing came to an end at the butt of your cigarette.
"C'mon, Man," you smiled, disturbing the water. You stood up, then looked down at Thomas. His eyes were heavy, but content. You offered him your hand to help him stand, which he took gratefully.
"Where are we going?"
"You're coming home with me." Thomas seemed a bit wary. You sighed as you began marching back in the direction you came. "I'm supposed to let you, still half in the bag, stumble home to God knows where, all alone?"
A deep chuckle came from Thomas as he rubbed the back of his neck. His strides were in perfect sync with yours, despite him having longer legs. "I suppose you're right."
"Thank you for your approval," you laughed as you looked to the horizon that you two had had your backs turned to all this time. The sun was beginning to break the clouds. "We've been out all night."
"We left the bar at 3."
You looked to Thomas as the walk switched from grass to pavement. "A 30 minute walk was turned into a 2 hour trek." Thomas' face heated up a tad as he looked to the ground beneath his feet. You looked forward. "No way I'd rather spend my morning."
The same comfortable silence filled the air while you approached your complex. You both walked in very casually, as if Thomas was an old friend who visited very often. But the second you both crossed the threshold, you began throwing your shoes and jackets off. Tiredness had finally settled in.
"Okay, my bedroom is yours, goodnight." You rubbed your eyes, starting to make your way to the couch. Thomas caught your forearm, making you look at him.
"I should be the one on the couch."
Your lips fell in a straight line and your brow dropped. "You're the guest, Man. You get the bed."
"Y/n, I have no problem with the couch," Thomas insisted. You sighed and turned you both around to the bedroom. Thomas' hand was still around your forearm, until you arrived at the bedroom door. "Goodnight."
"Oi, Asshole, come back here," you said just as Thomas began going to the couch. Now you grabbed his forearm. "The couch is shitty, and you don't deserve that, but you're relentless. We're both adults, we can share a bed."
Thomas smiled sleepily. "Okay."
His voice was almost giddy as you both flopped onto the bed. Thomas whispered a soft goodnight to you, but you were already in a land beyond this one. With a smile, Thomas laid on his back. Your room smelt just like you, and Thomas loved being surrounded by it. It was a strange feeling, but one he never wanted to lose. Soon enough, he followed suite and drifted off right beside you.
It was the best sleep either of you had had in months.
Part 2
#måneskin#maneskin#maneskin fanfiction#thomas raggi#thomas raggi x reader#thomas raggi fanfiction#thomas maneskin#ethan torchio#x reader#one shot#oneshot#fluff
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heeey! so back when @eirianerisdar posted chapter 12 of their fic the ransom of the house of fëanor - that’s the one where they finally let the brothers hellspawn and their idiot dad out of the void, but they have to throw elrond in, all very sad - i thought up my own somewhat fluffier vastly dumber au for the end of that chapter. in honour of the fic being finished, i’ve decided to write up the various scattershot ideas i’ve had for it, with the caveat that i’ll be working off my own slightly different background headcanons
the divergence point is roughly when elrond announces that he’s totally going into the void now, for realsies, the local ainur are nodding solemnly, and the fëanorians are running preliminary can-we-take-them calculations. except for maedhros, who’s very sad to hear that they must sacrifice his nephew to the eternal dark for their freedom, ‘tis truly a shame, they will honour his memory and GET THE BOAT, BOYS
or, the original elf mad scientist, his murderous blood-hungry spawn, a guy who’s extremely grouchy about not getting to do his dramatic self-sacrifice, and their somewhat-less-reluctant-than-he-should-be getaway driver go on the lam
how they got away from the valar:
námo: already knew this was going to happen, but it’s not like anyone ever listens to him, is it? in the moment, was a little more concerned with how morgoth had started belly-crawling towards the doors of night
manwë: never wanted to throw elrond into the void in the first place, and has been silently hoping elrond would call his bluff for the past week. the children are all safe and inside like they should be, and isn’t that what really matters?
eönwë: no it isn’t boss the fëanorians are a completely unpredictable wildcard we cannot afford to let them run around unsupervised!!! would probably have at least delayed the family hellspawn until backup could arrive, except
olórin: realised what maedhros was planning almost immediately and had to consciously force down a shit-eating grin. as soon as the brothers started moving, divetackled eönwë
-
[from a note attached to a harpoon lodged outside the highest window on the white tower of the isle of seabirds]
elwing - it went better than i expected, honestly. the sons of fëanor took about as much offense to elrond’s plan as everyone else has, except when words didn’t work they resorted to action. they dragged him onto vingilot and i followed them, and then we cast off together. we’ve set sail for as far away from the doors of night as we can get. i’m coming with them, of course, i’m not letting these lunatics crash my baby
i’m not entirely certain when we’ll be back? the fëanorians seem worried the valar might come after us, which wouldn’t surprise me, really. i’m taking us out towards middle-earth, we’ll see where we go after that. they’re all screaming at each other and running across the deck, i’m not convinced they have much of a plan. elrond is yelling too, he’s arguing with either caranthir or curufin, can’t tell which. the one i suspect is maglor has wrapped himself around his neck and refuses to let go. our son is alive and healthy and not in the eternal darkness, and for that, at least, i am grateful
the redhead who’s co-opted the harpoons says we’re coming up on your tower. no one’s done anything to threaten me or elrond, or even looked at the silmaril. there’s something nice about sailing with a crew again, no matter who it is. i love you, and i’ll be back as soon as i can - eärendil
[from a note attached to a harpoon found among the ruins of a house in the tirion stonecarvers’ district]
you were right, nerdanel. you were right about everything, and i was wrong. i’m sorry. the boys and i are going on another adventure right now, but we’ll come back to you someday, i promise
[from the same note, in much neater handwriting]
tell tyelpë i love him, and also that the coordinates are [rest torn off]
-
the first sign of this mess that reaches arda is the morning and evening star disappearing from the sky. gondorian astronomers, haradren scholars, avarin priests all stare flummoxed as the star of high hope simply fails to appear before the sun. no matter how unsuperstitous they are everyone agrees this is a really bad omen, and all across the globe the high halls of power tremble in fear over the new horror this must portend
the first sign of this mess that reaches the shire (except for that one took who’s really into astrology) is when eight-year-old elanor gardner rushes into bag end the next day, all ‘dad! dad! there are elves in the woods!’
sam is pretty chuffed to hear this. the fair folk don’t pass through the shire half as often as they used to, and it’s been some years since he heard their song. if they’re in the neighbourhood, why, it’d only be polite to say hello, wish them luck on their journey, hand them a letter. he packs up a nice tuck-box full of goodies to share, and then sam and elanor (and frodo, who’s going through a following-his-big-sister-around-and-copying-everything-she-does phase) set out to meet the elves
first they hear the shouting. then they see the smoke
at the end of the path his daughter leads him down, sam finds the wreckage of what looks like a crashed boat strewn across the forest, still faintly smouldering. at least a dozen elves are rushing between and up the trees, yelling at each other in the angriest quenya he’s ever heard. in the middle of the impact crater stands a blonde elf carrying a stone that shines like the phial of galadriel, wailing something sam knows just enough sindarin to recognise as ‘MY SHIIIIIIIIIP’
as sam’s gaze pans over the unfolding catastrophe, his eyes land on one of the last elves he’d expected to see, master elrond. elrond is rubbing his temple, groaning like someone who knows he’s the most responsible person around and really wishes he wasn’t. a vaguely familiar sketchy-as-fuck elf is clinging onto his shoulders, in a not-dissimilar way to how frodo-lad is currently riding on sam. elrond catches sam’s gaze
‘greetings, master samwise,’ says the wisest elf-lord of the west, ignoring the scuffle that’s breaking out behind him. ‘i must apologise for my relations’
(fëanor and elanor become fast friends, teaching each other their languages and exploring the shire together. absolutely no one else is okay with this)
-
fëanor, dragging an incredibly-put-upon elrond around the citadel of minas tirith: grandbabies!
fëanor, marvelling over the embroidery arwen is showing him: great-grandbabies!
fëanor, carrying a tiny giggling eldarion all the way up the tower of gondor: great-great-grandbabies!
fëanor, staring fixedly at an increasingly apprehensive aragorn: great-great-great...
celegorm, on dad-watching duty: actually if you lay the maths out it’s very likely every human in middle-earth is descended... from... elros... fuck
fëanor: has gone completely still
fëanor: massive grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling like the two trees brought back to life
fëanor: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
#feanor is basically that one hishe darth vader 'i have a SON' skit brought to life change my mind#i love the demographic-math everyone-in-me-is-descended-from-elros thing and i'll bring it up at every possible opportunity#i'm sorry eirian i needed to exorcise the brain worms#anyway#my terrible fic#fic#house of feanor#elrond#earendil#feanor#samwise#elanor#pretty much all my fic content for this fandom is stupid feanorian aus i'm sorry#the sons of feanor do indeed get a bag end breakfast. it is deeply weird for everybody#they're also way way way too eager to potentially fight the eagles#feanor is having the time of his goddamn life and doesn't care what he breaks along the way#earendil may be exploiting the opportunity to talk to humans again#and elrond is the designated driver more or less by default. poor guy#they go on adventures. elrond gets to see his kids again. shit happens#i figure elwing eventually catches up with them but there's pretty much no way i can make a scene with her and the feanorians funny#the cool calm lady of the white tower front is going up FULL FORCE#also idk what's up with those coordinates curvo told tyelpe about but there's no way they don't lead to chaos
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Chapter 01
Gracie’s POV
“Wait, Ames, is it the cake first or the gift”
“It doesn’t matter, I’m waking her up”
“Wait- no hold on, we forgot to light them up”
“Theo! Does it look like i fucking care? No, I don’t. I'm waking her up”
“But-”
“What is going on-” I said with a groggy voice and squinted eyes as I rose from my bed onto my forearms.
“Great, you’ve woken her up, thank you.” Amelie said as he turned around to glare at Theo.
“Hey! She wouldn’t have woken up if you hadn’t been so indecisive” Theo said as he glared back.
“Me? Do you even hear yourself Theo?”
I missed these lunatics.
“Hello, I’m still here” I said with an amused smile, trying to draw back attention to the fact that the two of them were in my bedroom, at 6 in the morning, with no explanation whatsoever.
“Oh right, happy 17th loser,” Amelie said as she nonchalantly threw what appeared to be a gift bag onto my bed. I let out a small laugh and placed it on my bedside table before my face slowly fell.
Oh fuck, it’s my birthday.
“Hey it’ll be fine-” Theo started as I dragged my palms down my face.
“No theo, it’s not going to be fine, he’s coming-” I said as i looked at him.
“Wait, huh? Who’s coming? Did I miss something or-” Amelie said as she glanced back and forth between me and Theo.
“Oh god,” I said as I crept under my cover, waiting for it to swallow me up and never show me the light of day again.
“What the fu- Theo who’s ‘he’?” Amelie asked as she swiveled to face him with a confused expression. Theo let out a sigh that clearly meant ‘you’re so dumb’
“Miles.” He replied. “Miles is coming.”
“Miles- So?” Amelie asked, completely flabbergasted. “We meet him every single day, he’s one of our best friends!” She said with an amused laugh, looking at us like we had gone absolutely mental.
“Ames,” I said as I looked up at her. “It’s my seventeenth birthday”
It took her a second but I saw the realization slowly creep up her face.
“Oh shit.”
Oh shit indeed.
In the Abbot household, there is a multitude of unspoken traditions. And being a part of them since I was a tiny baby meant that I have grown up to love and cherish them.
Like the way my parents always gave our maids a break on Sundays and made breakfast for them with me, or how they always bought my friends their favorite pastries for them on their birthdays, Or the way that they wrote me a letter every Saturday, despite knowing very well how to operate their own laptops when I’m away at Brookfield.
But there is one tradition that I will never, ever grow to understand, well, two of them I guess.
Being friends with the Connors.
Now don’t get me wrong, Mr. and Mrs. Connor are lovely people. A tad bit snobby for my liking, but I’ve definitely seen worse. What really irks me out to my core is their devil spawn of a son; Miles.
Even saying his name makes me want to break a table to stab myself with one of its legs.
This brings me to the second, sick tradition that my family has.
2. Making me constantly hang out with Miles.
You see, I meant it when I said that he was devil spawn. Because I have never met someone who can charm everyone so well that he’s perceived as this gentlemanly, proper, and sweet ‘young lad’. Hell, even I was fooled until I started going to school. But he’s not so bad in group settings, it’s when we’re alone that the insurmountable annoyance starts.
And listen, I’d be fine if I had some sort of upper hand on him. But no, the little bitch HAD to be good at everything.
He is the living example of ‘everything you can do, I can do better.’
I learned a new law about Germany? He comes the next day and recites the whole German constitution.
I write a research paper on a Midsummer night’s dream? He’s composed a musical, written a play, and has shot a documentary about it within two weeks.
Little bitch.
Now, here comes my family’s fascination with him.
He is a Connor. And the Connors are known to have a lot of money and power in this country. He is young, I am young and well, It needs no explanation.
And in our crowd, 17 is a pretty special age. It’s when the parents subtly hint at engagements and proposals and exchange knowing looks when their children blush. And I’d be happy to go through all of that with someone, I’m a romantic, I love love. But God doesn’t love me so he gave me a Miles to go through the whole ordeal with. And I don't love that.
And with the dinner party that’s happening later tonight, I’m pretty sure that I’ll be forced to spend the whole evening with him, making small talk and faking smiles and tucking my hair behind my ear, secretly wishing that someone will serve me poison instead of wine.
Someone kill me now.
…………………………………………………………………………………
Miles’s POV
It’s the day.
It’s the day that I have been dreading this entire week. And it’s actually here.
Fucking hell.
“Mum, Do I really have to go, I meet her every day.” I said, sitting on the foot of my bed as my mother perused through my collection of shirts, looking for something that’ll ‘make me seem interesting’ when Gracie sees me today.
Interesting my ass, I know their intentions for tonight, and in no way do I look forward to it.
“No darling, we’ve talked about this before.” My mum said. Spitting out her reflexive reply to many of the questions I ask her. And back to shirt perusal, she went. I lie on my bed and look at the ceiling.
“Why do you do this to us mum?” I asked her after a while.
She takes a moment before sitting next to me on my bed.
“She’s a nice girl, sweetheart, you should give her a chance. This is a good opportunity for the both of you” my mum said as she raked her hand through my hair.
An Opportunity.
That’s all we are to our parents. At least in our crowd. Just another source of income, another connection, and another level up the social order.
The lack of response made my mum get up and start going through my clothes again.
“The white will do.” She said as she picked a shirt out. As I walk over to her to look at it, I notice that it’s the one with the first two buttons missing. I smile as I remember why. It was a wild night.
“Mum, that’s the one with the-”
Hold on.
An idea flashes through my brain and I feel proud of myself.
Might as well try to have fun.
“Yeah. I think that’s good, it's fine” I say as I smile and take the shirt out of her hands. Hoping she hasn’t noticed the buttons or the lack thereof.
She smiles back at me and walks to my door. “Alright then, we’ll leave at seven”
I nod at her as she closes my door.
…………………………………………………………………………………
A few hours later, I’m folding up the sleeves of my white shirt as I look in the mirror. And I get lost in thought.
Gracie is a sweet girl, she really is, but I find it unbelievably obnoxious that she can just be smiley and happy with this arrangement that they have planned for us. We’re seventeen for god sake, we have an entire life to live before we start thinking of marriages and babies.
We’d have good-looking children.
I almost choke on my own spit. Where the fuck did that come from?
No Miles, No. You hate her. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it’s always going to be.
I wash my face once to get rid of whatever the fuck came over me and leave my room.
Someone kill me now.
#Dear you#romance#rivals#drabble#writeblr#him and her#im excited#their chemistry is >>>#have a nice weekend#love ya!
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