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coleskingdom · 3 months

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Mine Pt 5

The promo

Genre Smut

Jay White x reader

Warnings NSFW Minors DNI

I came back from being in glam for my first on screen segment. I had just put on the gold heels that were easily the most expensive uncomfortable shoes I’ve ever owned. I appraised myself in the mirror, the gold switchblade really setting off the black ensemble. “ There’s my girl” Jay smiling as I turned around, the leather jacket in his hands. “Here let me put it on you” He put the jacket on me, and came around to turn me back to the mirror. “Is it too much?” I ask, I look like a person I don’t recognize. “You look fucking amazing. It’s perfect you’ll get used to it, then when you come back through the curtain you become you again….thats who I’m in love with. Though if this alter ego ever wants to play I wouldn’t tell her no.” His wink made me laugh. “ Are you going to be able to superkick in any of this? “ I turned into the move resting my heel on his shoulder. “Well that’s some move you got there. I apologize for ever doubting the ability of your kick.” He moved my leg to around his waist grinning pulling me forward into him. “ I don’t know that I can do this. I’ve never been a character.” My forehead resting on his, he dropped my leg, putting his arms around me. “I won’t let you fail, I’ve got you. If not me the boys have got you.”he said.

As if on cue, Matt , Nick, Cole and Page, walked in. “Hey, Ospreay is here for his match he wanted to see if it was okay if he came in.” Matt said. A grin broke out on my face. Matt stuck his head into the hallway, and Will came in “Holy shit, you’ve always been beautiful but this this is something else” Will said I could hear Jay inhale but instead of ripping into him, “ She is isn’t she.” He agreed. The rest of us let out the breath we’d been holding. “ You’ll kill it out there love” giving me a hug “ I think I’m opening the show, I’ll be in gorilla watching, we should go out and celebrate after.” He left the locker room. “He’s a cheeky fucker isn’t he. “ Jay said somewhere between annoyed and amused.

We ran through how everything was going to go. I wasn’t going to have to speak, just stand there. Jay was going to take the lead in an explanation that flirted the kayfabe reality line a little to closely but given everything it was for the best. A worried look passed Jays face “ Guys if something happens out there just get her out of the ring and safe.”

Matt “What do you think is going to happen?”

“ I’m just thinking if I’m Finlay and I’m at risk of losing Bullet Club and have been humiliated in the dirt sheets. I’m going to attack tonight, and I’m coming full force. Fuck how did I not see this coming.” He’s pacing now like a caged animal

“Should I stay back here?” I asked cautiously The chorus of No’s rang in the locker room.

Just then Tony knocked on the door, “It’s time” his big smile not matching the room. I feel the weight of everything on my shoulders, I gripped jays hand tighter, Matt and Page directly behind us, and Nick and Cole behind them. Jay kissed my hand and I felt Matt’s hands on my shoulder, the original Bullet Club music hit. The crowd exploded, but I found my eyes scanning the arena. Jay and Page sat on the ropes to let me in, I entered followed by the guys. Jay is talking when six men jump the barrier and enter the ring. Why did Jay have to be right this time? Each of the war dogs has one of the guys , a war dog has Jay in a hold and Finlay takes his microphone.

. “Hi Princess remember me?” Finlay sneers, “ I’m actually surprised you had the courage to run out on me, at our wedding but don’t worry my boys and I had a really good time at the reception.” I step to the side of the ring knowing that I have to grab a mic. I reach for the mic and my eyes lock on Jays and I know I have to do this.

“ You know what’s funny David, you may have had fun at our reception with a coked up pop tart, but on our wedding night I was learning to breathe with the switchblade “ the crowd reacting to the realness of the statement. “ I have never seen a more impotent leader of bullet club David, hell it’s only a matter of time before the rest of your dogs realize what a bitch you really are.”

Danger flashes in David’s dead eyes, “ You really have them all fooled don’t you, that they think you’re something special when you’re just a ring rat with her daddies money. “ he smirked

“Oh the irony of a fifth generation wrestler who can’t even get himself over, even with the power of the club behind you. You are pathetic.” I see over David’s shoulder that Jay has almost got his guy off of him.

“ I’m going to make sure that you beg me to stop beating Jay. It’s going to be a pleasure as I break his body down with you ringside watching me do it.” I start walking away from him shaking my head, the rage and humiliation taking hold I pause I turn back and dropped him with a Superkick. The dogs let go of the boys and were on Finlay, Nick got me out of the ring and back up the ramp, I watched as the guys trade punches with the war dogs and kicked them out of the ring. The punches looked stiff and I was worried but they were on the way back up the ramp and we came through the tunnel and Kenny waved smiled and walk away.

“ Tony , what the fuck was that?” Jay yelled, “Kenny said it was a work.” Tony said “He was back here in gorilla the whole time.” “ God damn it, it was a fucking shoot, why would we do that to her? Why would we have her go toe to toe with Finlay.” Jay fuming “ it’s okay, I’m okay I think” I said trying to get Jay to calm down.

“ Actually it was pretty fun, how did it look?” I asked Tony smiled “ it looked fantastic honestly I thought it was planned.”

We walked back to the locker room, Colten and Austin were on their phones, “hey bullet club gold is trending along with coked up pop tart and breathe with the switchblade colton said. “Oh shit, I can’t believe I said that.” I tried to laugh “You also called him an impotent bitch” Austin chimed in.

The tension broke and everyone laughed, “Then it was like the power of hbk came over you when you hit that kick, he actually dropped “ Cole said “ I want to know if her shoe print is tattooed on his face” Page said “ Next time we can make you a thumb tack heel “ Matt offered.

“ I’m so fucking proud of you. “ Jay said putting his arm around me kissing me on the cheek.

“ Guys, I think I’m done for the night.” I said “ I just want to get back to the hotel.”

“ So she can breathe with the switchblade “ Colton said.

“I’m never going to live that down am I ?” I started to further explain I could feel my cheeks turn red

“Not for a while sweetheart, now gentlemen you heard the lady, we are done for the evening. Colton grab our bags”

I got a hug from each of the guys as we walked out to the car. In the car I reached for Jays hand. “ You okay?” I asked him, “Yeah you shouldn’t have been out there in that position but I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re gonna have to watch it back, when you said breathe with the switchblade I popped and the crowd popped. “ I smiled, “ Hey what’s wrong? “ he asked as I squeezed his hand in mine realizing I’ve been using it as my grounding point. “ Nothing, I just have never loved anyone as much as I love you.” looking at him. The rest of the car ride was quiet, the ride up the elevator was quiet.

Once in our room Jay dropped the bags, he stalks back towards me. He reaches me in only a few steps, his body colliding with mine as our lips meet. He doesn't stop moving, walking me backward until my back is pressed up against the door, and then he pins me against it, his lips hungry and forceful. I kiss him back the same way, going up onto my tiptoes to try to get more as my hands roam over his muscled shoulders and back. I slide my fingers through his hair, gripping his head as if I need something to hold me steady as his tongue delves into my mouth. "Fuck," I gasp into his mouth as he nips at my bottom lip with his teeth.

He makes a noise in his throat and soothes the sting away with his tongue before sealing his mouth over mine again. His hands are just as restless as mine are, seeming unable to settle any-where. He slides them over my sides, my arms, groping my breasts, kneading my ass. It's like he's trying to touch me everywhere at once, and every bit of skin that his rough palms travel over lights up like it's on fire.

"Oh god," I whimper as he wrenches his lips away from mine, trailing hot kisses along my jaw.

"Not quite." He scrapes his teeth over the column of my throat, making me shiver. "No god would do the things I'm planning to do to you,sweetheart but your fiancée would. "

The promise in his tone makes me shiver, and when he captures my mouth again, I moan. He hooks one of my legs beneath the knee, lifting it to give himself better access as he grinds against me. He's so fucking hard, the bulge of his cock straining against his pants, and I roll my hips against him, more desperate than I've ever felt in my life. He slips the jacket over my shoulders , I raise my arms so he can take off the tank. He sucks in a breath as he sees the black lace bra, and the necklace resting between my breasts. He unhooks my bra in the back, pulling away just long enough to slide it down my arms and get rid of it. Then his mouth is on my breasts, switching between them as he sucks and teases my nipples. I whimper as sparks shoot through me, electric currents of pleasure traveling straight down to my clit.

Breathing hard, I reach down to fumble with the button and fly of his pants. He moves my hands

“ Not yet, sweetheart , I have a much better plan, I said I was going to take care of you and I am.” He kneels in front of me, removing each of my heels delicately, slowly he moves his hands back up my legs as he reaches for the button of my jeans and works them down my hips and I step out of them. Jay stands taking off his jacket, his shirt, I can’t take my eyes off of him, his chiseled chest, his abs I draw in another breath.

“ follow me, sweetheart, I want you to ride my face?” as he laid down on the bed. “ You what!?” I stumbled over my words “ You heard me, I can tell you did your breathing changed, I want you dripping on my face, I want every drop of you on my tongue, that only happens if you’re sitting right here” he tapped his bottom lip. He reaches for my hand,

“ Take off the last piece of lace, sweetheart .” I take them off giving him a show bending down as I took them off. He groans. I get on to the bed straddling Jay, he moves me into position his hands on my hips guiding me. He tugs on my hips, getting me lower. “ wait wait, you still have to breathe.” “Sweetheart you already take my breath away come on baby sit on my face let me taste you.”

I let him position me where he wants me, I’m rewarded with him licking me with the flat of his tongue on my clit again again and again before he stiffened his tongue and started to fuck me with it. “Jay” he pulls me down further on his face I start to rock my hips matching the thrust of his tongue my thighs start to tremble around his head, my moans fill the room and my hand reaches down to grab his hair. “Jay I’m going to….” He changes his focus back to just my clit, his mouth began to suck on it hard, my pussy clinched and I came hard and soaked his face and he began licking me as I came down.

“Oh my God” my muscles are relaxed as I roll off of him collapsing on the bed he rolls on his side a grin on his face. My eyes on his jeans that show his hard cock, “ Greedy girl” he chuckles as he takes off his clothes.

He lays his body over mine, nudging my legs apart as his hips settle between them. "Fuck, sweetheart ," he rasps. "I need you so fucking bad."

"Need you too," I whisper, I don't care about anything except feeling him slide into me. I need that connection between us more than I need air. His jaw is tight as he braces himself on his forearm and lines himself up with my entrance. He presses in slowly for the first few inches, and our groans mingle in the quiet room.

"Fuck me, Jay," I gasp, reaching down to dig my fingers into his ass, pulling him toward me. "Please."

With a harsh grunt, he drives all the way in, rocking the bed beneath us as I cry out his name.

My name is a whisper, and it sounds like it comes from somewhere deep inside his soul. I cling to him, wrapping my arms and legs around him to keep him as close as possible. He doesn't move for a long moment either, as if he can't bear to pull out, even to start fucking me.

"I've never loved anyone as much as I love you," he murmurs, kissing my neck before scraping his teeth over my earlobe. "You fucking own me." He shudders, his cock pulsing inside me. "You feel what you do to me? I'm wrecked.”I squeeze around him, kissing his neck and shoulder as his familiar scent fills my nostrils. “You’ve wrecked me to” With that, he kisses me again, plunging his tongue into my mouth as he draws his hips back and drives back in.

My legs fall away from his waist, opening for him and giving him room to move as he fucks me with long, deep strokes. Pleasure builds inside me, a slow burn that starts in my clit and travels all the way out to my skin, making every brush of his body against mine feels like an electric charge. I tilt my hips, changing the angle a little, and he growls, gripping my throat lightly as his thrusts turn erratic.

"Won't last long," he grits out.

"Fuck, I can't. I need you too much, and you feel too damn good. Come for me first. I want to feel you milk my cock. Show me that you need me." He slams in and grinds his pelvis against mine, putting friction on my clit, and I hook my heels around his calves as my head tips back. "Right there," I breathe, my spine arching. "Right there, oh fuck, Jay." “ I love you.” His voice turns to gravel on the last words, and that's what pushes me over the edge. I let out a sobbing cry as my orgasm crests, and Jay explodes a second later, burying his face in my neck as he comes deep inside me.

He collapses on top of me, and even though he's heavy, his weight is the most perfect thing I've ever felt. I melt into the bed, my chest pressing harder against Jay with every inhale as I try to catch my breath. My arms are around his shoulders, my fingers drifting over the muscles of his back, and I can feel his ribcage vibrating with the heavy thuds of his heart. We stay like that, for a long time. When he pulls out and rolls off of me I miss him immediately.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, and comes back with a warm wash cloth and a glass of water. He rubs the wash cloth delicately over my body cleaning me and placing soft kisses on my body. He pulls the covers up over both of us, I curl in to him, he takes my hand and interlaced our fingers holding my hand as I fall asleep.

#AEW smut #jay white x you #jay white x reader #jay white smut #jay white imagine #jay white fanfiction #switchblade Jay white smut

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leiawritesstories · 4 months

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PART SIX: JUNE

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: swearing, violence, breaking and entering, fuzzy science, scheming, flirting and more flirting, innuendo, a villain, more violence, blood, minor character death

shout out to @house-of-galathynius for beta reading this hot mess and to @backtobl4ck for encouraging frederick

I don't know if I should say this, but...enjoy!! 😁😈

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“Moon Moon!” Aelin clapped her hands twice as she strolled past Fenrys, who lounged against the Boss’s office door like it was the most natural place for him to be. “Thanks for showing up.”

The blonde man shrugged, a half-smirk curling his lips. “Like I had a choice.”

“You always do.” She threw him Celaena’s sweet little grin that usually made people either piss themselves, cry, or start babbling. “You can choose to show up, or you can choose to die.”

“Not much of a choice, Boss,” he drawled. He flopped into the chair across from her desk. “So tell me, who’s the mark?”

Aelin tapped on her computer for a few minutes before she slid a single sheet of paper across the desk. “Have a good long look, Moon Moon, because this is the only time you’ll see all of this info in one place.” As the Boss, she was many things, and stupid was decidedly not one of them.

Fen picked up the paper, his dark eyes scanning each line of text and small, grainy photo. He cocked one blonde brow. “Rourke Farran, eh?” Not looking up from the paper, he huffed out a breath. “The man’s whole fuckin’ house is a booby trap, Boss.”

“I’m aware.”

“So what’s this bastard done to…god damn.” Before he could even ask the full question, it was answered. “He’s got a front for a front.”

“I have never tolerated, nor will I ever tolerate, the treatment of human beings like commodities,” Aelin said softly, lethally. Celaena Sardothien’s notorious steel undercut her tone. “Farran thinks he can get away with it because I haven’t come for him. Yet.”

Fenrys whistled lowly and set down the paper. “What’s your timeline, Boss?”

Aelin liked this man more and more with each interaction. “I need Farran at the river warehouse by the 10th. You can use whatever means necessary, beat him up a little, get him nice and ready for his session with me, but don’t even fucking think about killing him.”

“Don’t worry, Boss.” A lazy, hungry grin unfurled across Fen’s handsome face, the dim lamplight reflecting off the scars on his cheeks. “Softening up bad boys is my specialty.”

“That’s why I hired you.” Aelin took back the paper and tossed it into the shredder next to her desk, which ate through the single sheet with a brief mechanical grinding of teeth. She burned the shreds at the end of each day, never one to take any chances with documents that could potentially be stitched back together. Fenrys stood up to leave, and she waited until he was almost out the door before speaking again. “One more thing, Moon Moon.”

“Yeah?” He paused, alert, his stance striking an oddly familiar chord in her mind.

“Farran isn’t dumb enough to put all of his guard dogs in one place.”

He nodded slowly, working over that little tidbit of information. “Noted. I’ll tell you when he’s ready for you.” With a wink that was far too flirtatious for anyone’s good, Fen left her office.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she returned to her computer. Her encoded list of targets was shrinking by the week; really, there was only one name left after Rourke Farran received his one-way ticket to her riverside warehouse, and it called to her every day. Some days, it took all of her willpower to stick to her typical Boss hours and Galathynius hours when she knew that if she spent just one more hour as Boss, she could solidify the plans that she’d been simmering for so fucking long. Just before she slit his throat, she’d once murmured to a criminal that she was cleansing the world of villains. In the months since then, that cleansing had nearly been completed.

She slid her gaze down to the end of the page, following the trail of crimson lines that struck out each name up through Farran’s, and stopped, musing on the last name left. Five letters. One name—the villainous criminal was possibly more elusive than Celaena Sardothien herself.

Maeve.

On the one hand, it made complete sense that Arobynn’s lover—ex-lover—would have taken over his business, diminished as it was when all of his cronies started fighting over their pieces of the trade after Arobynn died. On the other hand, Aelin had wondered just why the hell Maeve would have wanted to take over Arobynn’s drug- and gun-running business; surely the money couldn’t be the only reason. The more she dug into the grimy, seedy backchannels of truth, though, the more she came to understand why Maeve had done it.

The woman had been madly in love with Arobynn Hamel, and now she was madly out for blood.

In the prep room of the Gal Inc. labs, Aelin snapped on a fresh pair of sterile blue latex gloves, checked her badge where it was clipped to her lab coat, and nodded at her reflection. It had been seven weeks since Ren had come into the labs to have his SecondSkin changed—she and Nehemia had decided to extend the wearing period to seven weeks, as Ren’s use of SecondSkin was an experiment—and she was curious to see if anything was different.

“About time,” Nehemia said dryly as Aelin walked into the small, sterile lab, the one that Nehemia typically reserved for experiments that needed to be kept quiet. “I was just about to assume you were in a meeting and start the removal process without you.”

“Hello to you too, Dr. Ytger,” Aelin returned, just as dryly. “I just had to primp a little longer, you know how much effort it takes to look this good.”

Nehemia snorted. “Galathynius, if you spent that much time primping, I’d never let you in my lab.”

“Don’t I know it.” Aelin sat down on the second rolling stool and scooted over to Ren’s side. “Okay, Nemi. It’s your experiment.”

Quickly but clearly, Nehemia ran through her usual list of removal instructions, then dismissed Ren to go take his shower. He emerged about half an hour later, wearing his robe, his hair damp and his face…

“Aelin, come here.” Nehemia motioned for Ren to sit down and scooted her stool up close so she could examine his ruddy face. “This doesn’t look like a typical hot-shower flush.”

Aelin scanned the redness on Ren’s face and nodded in agreement. “Allsbrook, does it itch?”

“Not on my face, no,” he answered.

“Are you itchy anywhere else?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Chest, elbows, upper arms, torso, knees, feet, most of my back, some other areas. It’s not bad, it’s more annoying, like when you have a mosquito bite that you want to scratch.”

“Would you please remove your robe so we can see if there’s anything visibly wrong with your skin?” Nehemia asked.

“One sec.” Ren hopped off the chair, went into the shower room, and came back out a moment later. “Just wanted to put my boxers on.” He took off his robe, hung it on the hook in the wall, and sat back down.

“Too much information, Allsbrook,” Aelin grumbled.

Nehemia ran her analytical gaze over Ren’s body, charting the red rash spread over the areas that he had said were itchy. It looked like an ordinary chafing rash, the skin irritated and slightly split in some places, and some of the redness faded, indicating that it was probably sensitive to the heat of the shower he had taken to remove the SecondSkin.

“Are you allergic to latex or any of its components?” Nehemia inquired.

“Not as far as I’m aware, no,” Ren said.

Nehemia hummed. “Ae, I have thoughts. What do you think?”

“Prolonged exposure?” Aelin asked. “It almost seems like what happens when you wear the same tightly fitting garment—like a leotard—for an extended period of time and it chafes.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. It could also potentially be compounded by bacteria and dirt buildup under the material. It lays atop the skin, and as much as we want to claim that there’s no gap, we know there has to be a microscopic distance between the material and the wearer’s skin that could allow that to happen.” Nehemia gently touched two gloved fingers to the rash on Ren’s chest. “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

She pressed down. “Does it hurt when I do this?”

He shook his head. “No. Itches, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s a good sign, at least.” Nehemia sighed. “Okay, Galathynius, we need to talk before we can decide how to move forward.” She beckoned Aelin towards the back of the room. “Should we go ahead with another application?” she asked, her voice lowered to a whisper.

Aelin pressed her lips together. “Well, we can’t exactly have him disappear while we try and work out the rash.”

“I don’t want it to spread or get any worse because it wasn’t treated, though,” Nehemia said. “I think we need to at least treat the rash.”

“Yes, I agree, but how will that work with another application?” Aelin’s brows furrowed. “And how should we treat the rash if we’re not fully certain of what it is and how it works?”

“We haven’t yet agreed to do another full application,” Nehemia reminded her, “and my instinct is saying to treat it like it’s a normal chafing rash—hydrocortisone cream, Benadryl, that kind of thing.”

Aelin nodded. “Okay, that sounds fine. How do you think we should apply the SecondSkin?”

“Hmm.” Nehemia tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “We could selectively apply it and avoid the rash areas. Theoretically, he’s not going to be stripping down in front of anyone for any reason, so he really only needs to have the right fingerprints and face, maybe footprints too. I vote we just apply the SecondSkin to his hands, face and neck, and feet.”

“I think we should apply it from hands up to elbows, just to be safe, but that sounds like a solid plan. Do we have hydrocortisone cream here?”

“Should be in the first aid bin.” Nehemia returned to Ren’s chair. “Okay, Allsbrook, here’s how we’re going to proceed. We’ll treat your rash and reapply the synthetic to your hands and lower arms, face and neck, and feet, which should hopefully give the rash time and breathing room to heal. You should apply this cream every day, as often as necessary, to the parts that are most itchy or inflamed.” She took the tube of hydrocortisone cream that Aelin handed her and applied it to Ren’s rash.

“Is this something I can find at the pharmacy?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s a common treatment,” Aelin replied. She walked over to the safe built into the far wall, keyed in the combination, opened the compartment, and retrieved a sleek steel canister from inside. She closed the compartment back up and brought the canister over to the prep table next to where Ren sat.

Nehemia took off her used gloves and replaced them with a fresh pair. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Ren confirmed.

Working in tandem, Aelin and Nehemia carefully laid the almost-invisible film of SecondSkin over Ren’s hands, forearms, face, and feet, carefully molding it to his skin. The pieces had all been prepped beforehand, since it took a significant amount of time to press fingerprints and other distinctive blemishes and markings into the synthetic material, and the SecondSkin molded to Ren’s skin flawlessly, leaving almost no evidence that it was there.

“Come back in two weeks,” Aelin instructed him as she disposed of her gloves. “We’ll want to see if your rash has improved, which will help us decide how to move forward.”

“Got it.” Ren went back into the bathroom, got dressed, and came back out as Chaol Westfall, contact lenses placed and bland grin on his face. “See you in two weeks, Dr. Ytger, Galathynius.” He left the lab.

“We should have seen this coming,” Nehemia groaned when Ren was gone, chucking her gloves into the trash bin. “Honestly, Ae, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Nemi, you are a genius,” Aelin reassured her. “You’ve been so busy with development and research, and we didn’t even know this could happen until we saw it today.”

“Yeah.” The chief engineer sighed. “I need to go chart all of this, and you probably have meetings or whatever shit you do in your big fancy office.” She smirked at Aelin.

Aelin rolled her eyes, nudging her friend in the shoulder. “I’d say something smartass, but I do have a meeting pretty soon. Let me know if anything comes up with Allsbrook, yeah?”

“Of course.” Nehemia waved and turned down a side hallway towards her office. Aelin headed back to the prep room, put her lab coat in the laundry basket, and collected her things before heading to her office and the inevitable day of meetings.

Two weeks later, Ren came back to the labs, his rash significantly improved. Nehemia removed and reapplied the SecondSkin in the same few areas and instructed him to keep treating the rash, as she didn’t want to move forward with full SecondSkin application until it had completely healed.

“It’s a good sign that the rash is healing,” she told Aelin over the phone later that day. “In theory, that means the SecondSkin could cause a rash from chafing, irritation, or prolonged use, but the rash can be treated like normal.”

“Definitely a good sign.” Aelin jotted down that note. “Hopefully, that means SecondSkin can be used for the wide audience we’ve been intending all along.”

“How much longer do you think this is going to be in development and testing?” Nehemia asked. “It’s been over two years, Ae. Shouldn’t this be about the time where we start to consider trial groups?”

“I’d say yes, but we’ve only just learned about the rash, and we’re not yet sure if the current formula won’t cause that rash.” Aelin was partially thinking out loud. “My gut says to wait until the Ren trial isn’t getting a rash, and then move into trial groups.” Which will give me more time to get rid of Maeve before she can make a move for the SecondSkin tech like Arobynn did, she added silently.

She was the only person who knew why Arobynn Hamel had died when he did—the former crime lord had taken one step too close to her highly guarded technology, and she’d had no choice but to retaliate. It was…not unexpected that Maeve would try to do the same.

Fenrys Moonbeam might very well be insane.

People had told him that frequently, ever since he was a reckless kid jumping off the playground structures at school, but he’d never had the thought himself until he was strolling into the Night Owl—a popular nightclub that was rumored to be the primary front of Maeve’s organization—in tight leather pants, a silver sequined jacket, and no shirt. Because rumor also had it that Maeve, the so-called Queen of the Night, had a…taste for handsome men, and he had it on good information that Rourke Farran was a frequent guest at the Night Owl.

He sauntered up to the bouncer with a lazy, easy grin sprawled across his face. “Hey.”

The bouncer, who could accurately be depicted as a concrete brick, stared flatly at him. “Invitation only, fancy boy.”

“I’m with Cadre,” Fen returned, sliding his hand into his jacket to retrieve a beautiful ivory card with purple script embossed across its fine surface. He waved the card at the bouncer. “And they’re expecting me in ten minutes, so it would be great if you’d let me get my pretty ass through the door.”

“Fuckin’ performers,” the bouncer muttered as he swung open the door.

“Thank you,” Fen crooned, blowing a kiss at the stone-faced man. The door slammed behind him, and he tucked the invitation—expertly forged by Celaena’s man Nox—back into his jacket and slipped into the crowd of dancing bodies. He winked and smirked his way through the crowd, letting the thumping beat of the music ease his rhythm, until he reached the bar.

Sure enough, Rourke Farran lounged on a barstool near the far end, one hand around a bottle of beer and the other around the waist of a blonde woman whose lipstick was littered all over his neck.

Fenrys muffled the snort he wanted to let out and waved over the bartender. “I’ll take a Sex on the Beach,” he purred, giving the guy, who was probably in his early twenties, a wink.

The bartender’s blush was faintly visible in the flashing strobe lights. “Want that extra strong?” His gaze flicked ever so quickly to Fen’s bare chest.

“Give it to me as-is, and then we’ll see.” Fen lowered his eyes to half-mast and watched the bartender make his drink. The other man threw the drink together effortlessly, sliding it across the bartop to Fenrys with a little smile of his own.

“I get off shift in an hour,” he said softly, dark blue eyes alight with hope and a little hesitancy.

“Good to know.” Fen took a long sip of his cocktail and nodded appreciatively. “Delicious.” In his periphery, he noticed Farran push the blonde out of his lap and stand up, swaying a little, and turn towards the dancefloor.

He brushed past Fen on his way over. “Get a fuckin’ room,” he slurred, his glassy-eyed gaze flicking once over Fen’s glittering jacket and tight pants. “Goddamn fancy boy.”

“I’ll be back.” Fen drained the rest of his drink, tossed a twenty on the bar, and rose, following Farran into the sea of dancing bodies. He kept a discreet distance from the man, far enough away to not be noticed but close enough to watch the man’s moves.

As he had suspected, Farran oozed sleaziness. What he was doing on the dancefloor barely passed for dancing; his gyrating hips and roaming hands were just barely short of outright having sex in public. He moved from girl to girl, changing partners as often as the music changed, leaving a good number of people giving him dirty looks for being too handsy. Fen snorted, knowing that the man probably deserved their scorn. Farran began to move towards the doors, and Fen slipped onto the dancefloor himself, moving fluidly through the crowd, keeping a constant eye on Farran’s steady, subtle escape route.

Time to move, Moonbeam.

Feeling a twinge of guilt for not staying to meet the cute bartender, Fenrys watched Farran leave the club and waited exactly a minute and a half before he headed out as well, putting enough unsteadiness in his step to indicate intoxication. Once he was out of the club, he glanced down the street in both directions and then went left. Even if he couldn’t track Farran, he knew where the bastard lived.

After a quick pit stop in an alley to swap out his flashy jacket for a closely fitted black knit turtleneck, Fenrys headed into the tidy grid of streets that made up western Orynth, taking a meandering route towards the tidy, wealthy neighborhood where Rourke Farran lived. The neighborhood was decked out with security cameras, as Celaena had warned him, so he looped around through the expansive back yards, slinking easily through the landscaped trees and plants until he came to the fence that marked the edge of Farran’s property. There weren’t cameras along the back fence, primarily because of the rotating patrol of guard dogs and security guards, so Fen swiftly scaled the fence and hopped into a tree.

He waited for the first round of patrols to pass before he carefully reached into the thigh pocket of his pants, withdrew a slim, vacuum-sealed package of meat, quietly cut open the plastic, and tossed the meat in a gentle arc directly onto the grass beside the paved walkway that wove around Farran’s house. A pair of guard dogs came barreling around the corner within sixty seconds, barking and growling and quickly discovering the meat. The second and third patrols weren’t far behind, and it was only a few minutes before all eight guard dogs were tearing apart the meat.

“The fuck is happening?” A security guard rounded the corner, breathless from sprinting. He saw the dogs calming down and settling back into their patrols after having finished the meat. “God. Which idiot dropped snacks everywhere?”

Another guard sprinted around the corner. “Everything okay?”

“One of you jackasses dropped the dogs’ snacks,” the first guard snapped.

The second one raised his hands in innocence. “I’m not the snack keeper tonight, dude.”

“Whatever. Just get your ass back to rounds.” The guards nudged the dogs back onto the path and headed away.

Mentally, Fenrys started counting minutes. He got to four, then five, then slowly and carefully slid down from the tree and darted across the lawn and onto the shadowed back porch. A moment later, he’d scaled the drainpipe leading up the side of the house and was perched on the balcony directly outside the master bedroom.

Wherein Rourke Farran was fully naked in front of his mirror, with his—

“Fucking hell,” Fen groaned to himself, shaking his head. “Disgusting.” But also enough of a distraction for him to slip down onto the balcony, pull a slender silver tube from his sleeve, raise it to his lips, and blow a tiny needle dart straight into the back of Farran’s neck.

Farran crumpled to the floor.

Good work, Moonbeam, Fenrys complimented himself. Now you just have to get the asshole out of his booby-trap house and over to the river warehouse.

Easy.

Right?

“He’s all yours, Boss,” Fenrys drawled as Aelin strolled past on the way out of the storage warehouse.

She glanced at her smart watch. “It’s only the eleventh, Moon Moon. That was quick.”

He shrugged, irreverent as always. “What can I say? I like to work fast.”

“Hopefully not all the time.” She smirked wickedly. “Your bartender boyfriend might be disappointed.”

Fenrys flushed a delightful shade of pink. “How the fuck—”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, Moon Moon.” She winked wickedly at him. “How’s our special guest doing? Is he adjusted to his new home?”

“It took him some time to get used to the room,” Fen returned, casually pulling a set of brass knuckles from a pocket of his cargo pants and spinning them over his fist.

Aelin chuckled, soft and lethal. “Not surprising. Thanks, Fen.” She paused just in front of the side door, her gloved knuckles resting on the doorknob. “Oh, Moon Moon?”

“Yeah?” He froze, his posture still as a…soldier’s.

“I’ll need you for cleanup on the twenty-seventh.”

He nodded. “Got it, Boss.”

Aelin keyed in the door code and left the warehouse, satisfied that she had set the wheels of her plan in motion. While she trusted Con’s assessment of his brother, she wasn’t fully convinced that she could completely trust anyone on her payroll, and Fen’s easy charm masked a cold, heartless willingness to carry out whatever depraved task she demanded of him. Furthermore, that stance of his—the utter stillness of his posture when someone ordered him to stop—had been pricking at her memory for days, and she’d only just realized why.

Fenrys stood like a soldier. More than that—he stood like one of her uncle’s men, one of the Terrasen Special Forces.

And Aelin knew the day one of Gav’s men got into Celaena Sardothien’s business would be the day her double identity began to crumble. Even if she wanted to trust Fenrys, she had to confirm for herself that she could, and that meant giving him a fake kill date in case he needed to report back to someone in the military.

If he did, if he turned out to be a spy, then the TSF would come sniffing around for Rourke Farran when it was already weeks too late.

Aelin laced her fingers with Rowan’s as they strolled through the fancy restaurant’s glass front doors, something settling deep in her chest at the simple, casual intimacy of holding his hand. Her mind had been running in overdrive for the last two weeks, and even now, with ten days left in the month, she hadn’t been able to slow the constant dizzying whirl of her thoughts.

Rowan was one of the only people who’d brought her a glimpse of peace recently, in the few scattered dates they’d been able to snatch between both of their busy schedules. He flicked her a tiny, secret smile, one that only she ever saw, before approaching the hostess stand with the same confidence that cloaked him when he was in his investigator clothes and badge. And dear god, the things that confidence did to her already throbbing pussy—she was half tempted to slip off her panties and sneak them to him under the table.

But she was a mature woman, so she wouldn’t.

“Whitethorn, party of two, seven-thirty reservation,” Rowan said to the hostess.

The young woman—probably a college student, if Aelin’s guess was correct—tapped a few things into her tablet. “Your table is ready, Mr. Whitethorn. Please, this way.” She led Rowan and Aelin through the low-lit restaurant towards the far wall of windows. Through the glass was a breathtaking view of Orynth, the city cast in shades of bronze as the sun began to drift downwards.

“Gorgeous,” Aelin murmured, captivated by the view.

Rowan’s thumb brushed across the back of her hand. “Not half as much as you.”

She blushed. “You’re quite the flirt, you—oh!” Unexpectedly, a man’s shoulder brushed hers as they wove through the restaurant floor. She looked up to find none other than Police Captain Chaol Westfall, wearing a nice suit and a mildly shocked expression.

“M–Miss Galathynius,” he finally managed, clearing his throat. “And, ah, Lieutenant Whitethorn. I…I apologize for running into you.”

“Westfall, what are you doing here?” Rowan inquired, polite on the surface but with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“Considering we aren’t at work, it’s none of your business, White-horn, but I was at dinner with a friend of mine,” Chaol shot back. There was definite animosity underlying his words.

Rowan raised a brow. “You…have friends?”

“Ah, lighten up, darling,” Aelin interjected before either man could resort to fists. “We don’t all live at our workplace, as we seem to have discovered. And Ro, darling, we’ve left that poor hostess floundering.” She wrapped her hand around his arm and tugged him towards their table.

He shot Chaol one last suspicious look. Chaol returned the look, but broke the stare-off to nod respectfully at Aelin as she passed. “Ms. Galathynius.”

When they reached their table, Rowan pulled out Aelin’s chair before seating himself across from her. Questions brewed in the shifting of his eyes. “Question, Ae—do you know Westfall? How?”

“That was two questions,” she teased. “Yes, I’ve met Captain Westfall before. It’s all part of the business; I’ve met just about every notable figure in Orynth at some function or another. I probably met the police captain at some kind of gala.”

Rowan nodded slowly, digesting the information. “That makes sense. All those faces probably run together after long enough, yeah?”

“I try to keep them separate, but yeah.” She flashed him a sheepish grin. “There’s only so many names and faces you can memorize before they all start to appear the same.”

“Why, Miss Galathynius,” Rowan drawled, his face alight with mischief, “are you implying that there are too many men in suits in this fine city?”

She shrugged, meeting the gleam of his humor with her own dry wit. “I’m simply observing that if a few less of them were to bother me at every function I attend, my mind would be clearer.”

“I thought you had a mind like a steel trap, love.” Raising a brow, he sipped his water.

“It sometimes takes a moment to pull out a name from the file cabinet,” she returned. “And—oh look, here comes our server.” Their server, a sandy-blonde-haired man in his late twenties wearing the restaurant staff’s uniform of white shirt, black trousers, and maroon tie, wore a pleasant (if tired) smile as he pulled his notepad from his apron pocket.

“Good evening,” he said cheerfully. “My name is James, and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to hear about our specials this evening?”

Aelin glanced at Rowan, whose eyes had visibly narrowed as he scanned the server. The look was so blatantly male, she almost rolled her eyes, but her possessive buzzard relaxed when he saw the silver wedding band adorning the server’s left ring finger. “I actually think we’re ready to order, if that’s alright?”

James the server just about melted to the floor in relief. “Are you serious?” he asked, lowering his voice to an incredulous whisper. “I—I haven’t had a single easy table tonight, and it’s the last two hours of a double and—I’m so sorry, that was completely unprofessional of me.”

Aelin chuckled. “Don’t worry, James, was it? Customer service is a rough job.”

“Tell me about it,” the man grumbled.

Rowan shot Aelin a confused look. “Ae, love, I haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“Do you trust me, love?” she asked.

He pursed his lips, not quite used to letting someone else order his food. “All right.”

“Perfect.” She blew him a subtle kiss. “Okay, James, is it alright if I give you our order a few steps away?” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, keeping it still loud enough for Rowan to hear. “I want to surprise my boyfriend; I’ve been here more than once but he hasn’t ever been.”

“Of course.” James smiled, a genuine one this time. “I brought my wife here once when we were dating—took half my paycheck, but it was worth it.” He stepped aside a few paces and Aelin followed, quietly giving her and Rowan’s order. The server’s pen flew over his page.

“And say hi to Chef Emrys for me, would you?” she concluded.

“You…you know the head chef?”

“Bit of a long story, but yes. Tell him Aelin Galathynius says hi, please. Thanks!” She came back to the table and slipped into her seat, leaving the very nice but very shocked server to collect his wits after realizing just who he was talking to and go to place the order.

“Poor guy looks like he just got hit by a truck,” Rowan observed, smothering a laugh.

Aelin smirked. “I may or may not have given him my full name.”

“Ah, the name drop.” He nodded sagely. “Just what every famous CEO has to do to the poor server who got their table.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth for a soldier, you know,” Aelin mused, her words slowing to a near- seductive pace. “A respectable man would never insinuate that his date uses her job title for perks.”

“I never said I was respectable.” Lazily, his gaze roamed down her upper body, admiring the way her little black dress scooped beneath her collarbones, accentuating the gleam of the single small teardrop diamond pendant that nestled in the hollow of her throat.

James came by with two glasses of white wine and an appetizer platter with two sharing plates, breaking the dangerous haze of the moment, and Aelin thanked the server as he headed off, no doubt to take care of his other tables.

Rowan’s jaw slacked just a bit at the sight of the cured meat and prawns arranged on the plate. “Please tell me you didn’t order the most expensive things on the menu, Ae.”

“Of course not.” She reached across the table and linked her hands with his, the gesture as natural as breathing. “I got us an appetizer to share, a first course, a meat course, and a dessert, and I’m not the kind of person who orders expensive items just to flash her money around.”

He breathed out a deep, controlled exhale. “I know, love. It’s just…” His thumb rubbed across her knuckles. “I’m not used to any of this—the fancy restaurants, the fancy food, the way people don’t bat an eye at spending thirty dollars for some toast.”

She cracked a grin at that. “Let me introduce you to the fine, fine work of Chef Emrys, then. I actually used to work for him, way back when I was eighteen and my parents decided I needed to experience real-people jobs.”

“Way back when,” he drawled, teasing her.

“Hush, old man,” she teased right back, plating up a sampling of the appetizer plate and sliding it over to him. “I know I’m only twenty-seven, but my stint as a hostess feels like forever ago.”

“Kind of like how basic training feels like forever ago for me.” Rowan agreed. He bit into one of the cured prawns and nearly moaned, his eyes closing in joy. “God, this is incredible.”

She beamed. “Wait until you taste Chef Emrys’s filet mignon, Ro.”

The conversation flowed freely between them after that, only interrupted by the arrival of new food and wine. A mushroom and herb risotto accompanied by an aged Riesling. The promised filet mignon, which almost made Rowan cry with joy, and a spectacular six-year Merlot. And finally, individual blackberry cobblers, the berries ripe and fresh and perfectly sweet-tart, paired with the restaurant’s signature Cabernet.

“I don’t think I can move,” Rowan sighed as he set down his last empty wineglass. “But it was absolutely worth every bite.”

“I think I’m going to dream of this cobbler,” Aelin added, regretfully nudging her empty dish towards the end of the table. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave, yes?”

“Gonna need three to five business days,” he mumbled.

Her laughter rippled across their low-lit table. “I love when you let that humor of yours loose.”

A different kind of hunger flickered in his forest eyes. “And I love when I have you all to myself.”

“Possessive much?”

He just shrugged. “Call me whatever you want, love, but we both know you only come for me.”

Flames flickered through her blood at the deep, sinful timbre of his voice. “That’s only because I haven’t introduced you to my drawer full of battery-powered boyfriends.”

The banked embers simmering in his expression flared into a bonfire, and he sat upright and beckoned their server over. “Suddenly, I’m ready to go home.”

James was at their table within two minutes. “How was everything for you tonight? Can I get you anything else?”

“It was absolutely mind-blowing, as always,” Aelin said. “And no, I think we’ll just take the check.” Covertly, she slipped James her credit card, and he gave her a small nod as he went over to the server computer to process the payment.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you,” Rowan murmured, the velvet caress of his voice stroking down her spine. “Mind-blowing, Ae?”

“Would you happen to know anything about that?” she asked, innocently.

In response, he trailed a brazen stare down her figure. “Seems like you need a refresher.” He stood up far too smoothly for someone who had just finished his fourth glass of wine, gave her his hand for stability as she rose, and then rested that hand against the small of her back, his touch burning through her dress.

Their server returned with a check folder in his hand and passed it over to Aelin, who glanced over the receipts, signed her name, and tucked her credit card and her copy of the receipt back into her small handbag. “Thanks, James.”

“Ah, thank you, Ms. Galathynius, Mr. Whitethorn. You might have been the best table I’ve had all day.” He tucked the folder into his apron pocket with a wry grin. “Have a good one!”

“If it’s good, it won’t be just one,” Rowan whispered into Aelin’s ear.

A shiver danced down her neck. “Is that a promise, Lieutenant?”

He held the door open for her as they left the restaurant. “Ask me again when you’re begging for my cock, love.”

Ren Allsbrook, alias Chaol Westfall, was expecting Whitethorn’s visit, but the man’s presence in his office still gave him an oddly unsettled feeling.

He pasted a bland, blasé expression onto his face. “Yes, Whitethorn?”

Rowan dropped into the chair opposite Ren’s, regarding him with a piercing look that almost seemed to pierce beneath the layer of SecondSkin cloaking his true identity. “How the hell do you know Aelin, Westfall?”

Ren shrugged. “We met at some city leader event a while back. Some big thing the mayor hosted so the big names of Orynth could pretend to be civil to each other.”

“Yeah? How long ago was that?”

Fucking think, Allsbrook. Chaol Westfall had been the police captain for about three years, Ren had taken over as Chaol six months ago in January, and the mayor’s Leaders Gala was always held in…the fall…“Last October, I believe. You’ll have to give me a little grace on the estimate, since I was damn busy with actual work.”

“Cute of you to think you can get away with sneering at me from your soapbox, Westfall,” Whitethorn said dryly. “Well, I checked the dates, and the mayor always holds his little party in October, so I’ll buy your story.”

“My story, huh? When did you get so desperate for leads that you started accusing coworkers, Whitethorn?”

“Shut up,” Rowan grunted. “I’m just making sure you haven’t been doing anything shady with my girlfriend, jackass.”

“Ooooooh, we’re using official terms now?” Ren couldn’t resist the urge to press Whitethorn’s buttons. “I thought you were allergic to that kind of commitment.”

“I wouldn’t get smart-mouthed with me, Westfailure,” Rowan grumbled. “I’ve seen you going to the Galathynius labs. What the hell are you doing there?”

Ren muffled a rather creative string of curses. “Whitethorn, I know you’re terse, but what the hell was that subject change? Give me some goddamn context, for shit’s sake.”

“Fine.” Rowan pulled up some security camera footage on his tablet. “This is a record of the feed from the Galathynius, Inc. lab complex’s security cameras, and before you open your mouth, I have clearance. Two and a half weeks ago, on June 4th, you went to the labs. You went again yesterday.” He tapped on the video, and the footage played, clearly showing Chaol walk into the labs and walk back out after a period of fast-forwarding through nothing.

“Well.” Think, you fucking idiot! “Since we are currently quietly investigating a connection between Galathynius, Incorporated, and the, uh, Shadow Killer—”

“Shadow Assassin,” Rowan corrected.

“Whatever. That person. You think there’s a connection, and I’m pursuing it. I happen to know a scientist who works in the Galathynius labs, and I set up a couple of meetings to speak with her.” Ren folded his arms across his chest. Buy the story, Whitethorn.

Whitethorn frowned. “Why didn’t I hear about these meetings?”

“Because I was being discreet, duh.” Ren poured a heavy dose of sarcasm into the last word.

Rowan grumbled something that sounded like a string of cussing. “I didn’t get sent to this investigation for the laugh track, Westfall.” He stood up and left the office, carelessly banging the door shut behind him.

“Jackass,” Ren grumbled. He turned back to the endless slog of paperwork and files he had to get through, because the job of police captain came with a lifetime supply of that shit. Against all beliefs, he’d actually come to enjoy this job, this role, and he was just as invested in the case as Whitethorn was.

He just happened to be on a different side.

This is fucking insane, this is fucking insane, this is fucking insane. Those were the words running through Fenrys’s head as he and his twin strolled down the secret back stars of the Night Owl. He was barely able to focus on the opulence of the hallway—plush velvet lining the walls, fine mahogany banisters, and black wall torches and overhead lights giving the whole space a deep purple glow—when his mind was so focused on what lay at the end of the walk.

“Relax,” Con muttered. “Don’t get us fucking killed before we’ve found out what she wants.”

“I’m trying,” Fen grumbled. He straightened the lapels of his jacket, the same sequined one he’d worn to the Night Owl three weeks ago. “But—”

“But nothing.” Con cut him off. “Remember why we’re here.”

“Right.” Because Celaena had trusted the two of them with infiltrating Maeve’s lair. Because they were the key to taking down the last obstacle in Boss Sardothien’s path, whatever the hell it was.

The masked guard in front of the twins stopped at a dark wooden door at the end of the hall. “Wait here,” he said, expressionless. He went into the room, closed the door behind him, and came out a few minutes later just as expressionless. “Maeve will see you now.” And he opened the door.

Fenrys took a quick, deep breath and strolled into the dark-paneled office, Con at his side, both of their gazes immediately locking onto the woman who sat behind the imposing black marble desk at the far end of the room. Her face was pale, nearly opalescent in the darkness, her lips were stained scarlet, and her unnervingly violet gaze was fixed on the twins.

“Thank you for being willing to meet on such short notice, boys,” Maeve said, her calm, cold voice slicing through the room like a blade.

“Our honor,” Fen replied. Maeve gestured at the pair of leather chairs opposite her desk, and the twins sat down.

She steepled her fingers under her chin. “I have a job for you.”

Con shared a loaded look with Fen. “Both of us, or just one?”

“Both of you. I need one of you for each side of the job.”

Slowly, Fen nodded. “Alright. What can we do for you?”

One corner of Maeve’s scarlet lips curled upwards. She retrieved a thin manila file from her desk and slid it across the desktop. “Fenrys, kill this man.” The order was as clearly and casually enunciated as if she was asking for a glass of water. “Connall, you will stay here to monitor Fenrys’s task.”

Beside Fenrys, Con’s posture stiffened. “How?”

“We have an advanced tech space that will provide all the equipment you need, as well as the chance to experiment with some of the devices we’re working on.” A gleam flickered briefly through the Queen of the Night’s unflinching stare. “And I require company.”

“Alright.” Con dipped his head in acquiescence, flatly refusing to meet the sharp, concerned gaze Fen shot towards him.

“Excellent.” Maeve smiled, and it sent a shiver down Fenrys’s spine. “You may go, Fenrys. I expect it won’t take you too long to get the job done.”

“I pride myself on efficiency,” he smirked, masking the oily chill in his blood with a lazy, half-wild grin. He rose, nodded at Maeve, and strolled out of the room and then out of the club, his steps sure and unfaltering until he was around the corner and out of sight.

Then, he ducked into a side alley and slumped against the wall, his veneer of easy confidence dropping to reveal his hidden terror. Fuck! He’d left his brother in that spider’s lair; gods only knew what could happen if either of them failed to do what Maeve commanded. Hands shaking, Fenrys reached into the hidden inner pockets of his jacket, his fingers closing around the comfortingly cold steel of his favorite twin flat knives and the envelope containing the thick piece of cardstock that had been in the file. The least he could do—for himself, for Connall, and for the man he had to kill—was carry out his task quickly, before the Queen of the Night could hurt his brother.

And so, heart heavy, Fenrys Moonbeam adjusted his jacket and the weapons contained within it and began his prowl towards Orynth Police headquarters.

Rowan arrived at Orynth PD unusually early on the morning of June 30. After a restless night—he’d tossed and turned far into the wee hours of the morning, snatched probably three solid hours of sleep, and had a muddled collection of dream snippets—he’d just decided to bite the bullet and drag his ass out of bed at five in the morning. Shortly before six, he keyed in his code at the door of the police station, let himself into the quiet, chilly building, and dragged himself to the locker room to dump his bag and splash some icy water on his face. With his vest strapped on and his badge around his arm, he grabbed his laptop bag and trudged up the stairs to the offices, ducking into his office to drop off his things and try to form a to-do list.

Fuck, he needed caffeine. He needed it badly enough that he’d even drink the bitter shit from the common-room carafe. So he pushed his chair in, left his office, and went down to the bullpen, following the faint scent of the first batch of coffee. Operating on autopilot, he was halfway to the break room before he smelled it.

Blood.

That coppery tang was unmistakable.

Fuck.

Coffee forgotten, Rowan whirled around and strode back to the bullpen, following his nose like some kind of hound. A bloodhound, whispered the traitorous part of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Aelin’s witty laugh. In any other context, he might have laughed along. But not this time. Head down, he tracked the metallic stench of blood across the bullpen, its tang growing heavier with each successive step he took. The blood, wherever it was, was still fresh enough to be that strong, but old enough to have spread its scent through a significant part of the floor. Both of those things worried him. A lot.

Hand straying to his holster, Rowan rounded the corner towards the cluster of desks where the detectives and Westfall worked whenever Westfall was in the bullpen. He inhaled, catching a lungful of blood-scent, so strong it nearly knocked him back. That part of the floor was still shadowed in the early-morning dimness, so he flicked on the nearest light for a better visual.

The flashlight in his hand clattered to the floor. His other hand clenched around the cold, smooth handle of his gun.

He’d found the source of the blood stench.

He blinked. Shook his head. He snapped his jaw shut, swore at himself a few times, imagined Gav yelling at him for losing his mind like a goddamn fucking green idiot, and took one step forwards.

He froze.

Sprawled facedown in a pool of his own blood, the back of his skull concave as if bashed in with a heavy, blunt object, with a bullet hole ripped through his temple and knives pinning his now-limp hands to the desk, was Chaol Westfall.

Rowan locked up the side of himself that immediately started screaming questions and approached Chaol’s…corpse…carefully, forcing the investigative side of himself to take the lead. He cautiously nudged Westfall with his baton, noting the lack of response. With that amount of blood loss, he’d be more shocked if the man was alive, but he still had to go through the steps. As much as he could, Rowan circled the body, clocking each new wound he found on the man’s body. It was…more brutal than he had initially noticed, slashes and cuts scattered over the body, as well as the knives stabbed through the hands and the obvious point-blank range of the bullet, marked by its entry and exit wounds.

As he came to the other side, Rowan stopped once again, because there was a goddamned note tacked to Westfall’s forehead. No—nailed to his forehead.

Fuck.

He pulled on the pair of latex gloves he kept tucked into his belt and gingerly reached for the note, lifting it up enough to read it. He didn’t remove it; he was too experienced to fuck with a crime scene like that. He did, however, lift up the paper, which was surprisingly thick and high-quality for a fucking assassin signoff. Three words were printed onto the note in dark ink. He tilted the paper slightly, and the black ink shimmered with a dark purple sheen, indicative both of its quality and probably of the signature colors of whoever the hell had written the message.

Tread carefully, Lieutenant.

There was no signature. There was, however, a symbol stamped beneath the short, threatening message. Rowan peered at the stamp, sharp gaze scanning it until the shape came into focus. It was an almost photographic image of an owl, the bird posed in eerie stillness, its inked eyes large and unblinking. And atop the owl’s head sat a crown, a perfect arc of five jeweled spikes.

It was the mark of the Queen of the Night.

~~~

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#my writing #until proven guilty #criminal/investigator au #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #throne of glass fanfiction #tw: big bad villain hehe #tw: violence #tw: fighting #tw: blood #tw: minor character death

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starsunderwaterr · 2 years

Text

Sleeping with the Idols + Cap’n 3 + 8! (pt. 1)

Okay for all you dirtballs out there, this is NOT that kind of sleeping. I’m splitting this into 2 parts just because there’s 9 characters including 3 and 8 and I don’t want this post to be as long as my mental disorders

Update: I added more to these babies because my other parts are longer and I wanted it to be fair <3 enjoy loves!!

(Y/N) — your name

(N/N) — nickname

All characters involved are 18+

Minors DNI

Warnings: swearing

Callie!

girl is literally the cutest thing ever I stgggg

She has 2 settings when she naps/sleeps

Either she curls into a tight ball and cocoons herself into her corner of the bed

Or she is sprawled out all over taking up all the space

Don’t be surprised if she snags the blankets from you a lot

Or kicks them off

She requires likes when you kiss her forehead before going to sleep or nap because it makes her feel loved

Can get cuddly with you if she’s cold and really needy

Will nuzzle right up to you in tight ball form but will also shove her cold ass feet onto you and startle you awake

Is literally the queen of the burritoed girlfriend trend

Will make you hold her in a blanket burrito to fall asleep sometimes, especially if she’s had a hard day or isn’t feeling too well

Will whine if you don’t snuggle with her (for the most part it’s playful)

Like the princess she is, feed her snacks when she’s cuddled up with you

Girl has it rough enough as is, a little pampering here and there from her favorite person ever (don’t tell Marie) wouldn’t kill her

She will feed you too, because she’s just that much of a sweetheart

After feeding Callie a small cookie, she smiled, grabbing one for you

“Open, hun~” She cooed, and you obliged, rolling your eyes as you ate the sweet treat

“Such a cutie..” She mumbled to herself, making you die

Will occasionally be found in the weirdest sleeping positions ever

You found girlie with her body half off the bed once like she was doing gymnastics and she was unbothered, dreaming away

You had to pick her up and place her on the bed normally because her face was turning bright red PFFTTT—

When you did, this girl straight up wakes up and goes “I was comfortable!” “Babe, you were asphyxiating-” “Well excuse me if I want to be a gymnast when I dream”

Speaking of which, not the first time you’ve had to carry her to bed so she didn’t die

One time, she fell asleep at the recording booth over a bunch of sheet music and almost banged her head on a huge amplifier

Secretly loves when you carry her to bed bridal style and just melts into you

Wraps her arms around your neck and plays with the hairs on the nape of your neck and gives you a look with the most love ever

Overall, a needy lil baby, who’s a lil concerning, but so adorable

Marie!

Miss Marie man

She’s typically a side sleeper, so she really enjoys when your hands are on her waist or wrapped around

Doesn’t always like to cuddle but when she’s in the mood she’s very into it

Also loves to be the big spoon

She’ll literally hold you as you’re passed out on her chest, rubbing your head with one hand and will be reading a book or something with the other hand LMFAOO

Would literally do taxes with you asleep on her LMFAOO

When she’s needy, she loves to be kissed all over her face and held tightly

She will bury her face in your shirt and hug you so tight, like you’re going to disappear

It’s a side of her that not even Callie has seen, and don’t you dare tell a soul about it because she’s never this vulnerable with anyone

Typically doesn’t move much during sleep but will say some funny stuff from time to time

It’s because she’s so stressed, poor baby

One time, at a sleepover with you, her, and Callie, she went on a whole rant about why her charger should get a full course meal

You and Callie couldn’t breathe from how adamant she was about it

“*loud groan* Ugh, someone get me my charger!”

You and Callie, who were laying down in your sleeping bags, exchanged a look with each other before looking back to Marie

You had to be sure you were hearing this ish straight bc she was still asleep

“Mmpfh...give him the tuxy driver...the tuxedo driver”

Bruh...WHAT

You and Callie were so confused, but you didn’t realize how good it was going to get

“Make sure he has his cape!”

You both looked back at each other and began to laugh, not really understanding what was happening

Out of sheer amusement, you decided to try responding to her to see what would happen

“Why?”

“HE NEEDS HIS SPECIAL PEAS!”

Instant laughter from the both of you, cameras out

“This is not a laughing matter...it’s SERIOUS.”

Okay, that’s it

You and Callie laughed so hard that you ended up waking up Marie

When she got out of her sleep daze, you both showed her, and she evaporated in shock

That Marie’s breaking point regarding stress LMFAOO

Pearl!

Wowie it’s the skrunkly creature

She is exactly that when she goes to sleep

Will emerge from thin air and will stand in your doorway at 3 AM in her big ass hoodie demanding she gets in bed with you

Doesn’t care if she scares the shit out of you, she’ll just stand there menacingly until she gets what she wants #richkidcore

You were sleeping soundly, just enjoying your rest when you felt the urge to wake up, you felt like someone was there

When you finally did and sat up, you almost shit your pants

In your doorway stood Pearl, her arms crossed in her oversized hoodie and socks

Her expression was sharp, but her eyes showed you how she really felt

You jumped, holding your chest, “Pearl?! What the hell?!” You had given her the key to her apartment in case she ever needed it, but you didn’t think she would come this late

“I tried texting you and calling you to see if you were up, but you didn’t answer, so I came.” She said, matter-of-factly, making you sigh

If you could SEE you would notice that there was a small smirk on her face

You made a gesture for her to come forward, and like wildfire she ran to you, getting into bed and settling in

Instantly, she hugs you, her arms gripping the fabric of your shirt tightly

You rested your chin on her head, feeling her sigh with content into your neck as she finally relaxed

“You’re such a shrimphead, you know that?” You sighed, giggling a little near the end

Pearl only grumbled, mumbling a “shut up...” somewhere in there

Don’t you dare ask her why, she doesn’t want to explain that she’s needy and wants attention

Let her come to you unless prompted otherwise

Rub her head, bro

She loves that shit sm but she hates to admit it

If you stop, she’ll grab your hand and put it back so you can continue

And you know damn well that she’ll give you that look too

Usually will wrap her arms around your torso super tight or will climb into your hoodie or shirt and just stay there

Will sleep like that while you do other stuff like go on your laptop or scroll through your phone

Sometimes if she wakes up, she’ll glance at what you’re scrolling and make a comment or will watch videos with you all the while she’s literally underneath your shirt in the crook of your neck

Minding your own business with your skrunkly girlfriend sleeping in your shirt, you scrolled online, watching some random art video

Out of nowhere, you hear a quiet, “I like the colors they used”

You almost shit yourself

You jumped, looking down at her as she smirked up at you like “haha, yeah, I did that, bitch”

Girl knows exactly how to give you heart attacks and your sleep paralysis demons inspiration but she’s adorable and a whole 10/10

Marina!

bruh you ain’t sleeping with Marina, Marina’s sleeping with you—

Girl is almost always the big spoon and is unapologetic about it

She absolutely loves giving physical affection to her loved ones, so if she can hold you from behind or even have you rest on her chest boobies, she’ll be the happiest girl alive

Is the type of girlfriend to ask you how your day has been when you’re getting into bed

If the answer is not a favorable one, she’ll give you a hug and try to get you to open up about it because she genuinely cares

You got into bed, just wanting to go to sleep and get the day over with when you heard the velvety voice of your beloved, “How was your day, (N/N)?”

You glanced over at your girlfriend, feeling tears instantly swell in your eyes

Noticing, Marina’s face grew concerned, and she placed a soft hand on your blanketed thigh, “Are you okay?”

....goddddd....

That’s all it took for you to burst into tears and be swooped up in a hug

Made sure that you got your tears out and let you rant out your woes while also giving you plenty of kisses and damn good advice

Will 100% read you to sleep if you want

Her voice is just,,,HHHGHGHGHGHGH

It’s literally perfect and soft asf, so you’re able to drift off within minutes

Although, her favorite thing you do at bedtime is when she’s reading to you, and she thinks you’re asleep, but then she’ll hear a super sleepy, “Why did you stop? It was getting good...”

With that she will literally smother you and tell you how cute you are there is no denying it

Will always make sure that you’re warm and cozy

She definitely sleeps with a plushie and if you aren’t there, and hugs it when she sleeps because she misses holding you

When you come home from a trip or vice versa, she gets super needy and cuddly because she’s been without her bub for awhile!

Will be borderline sobbing when she can hold you again because you mean that much to her

Literally sleeps like an angel and is always looking her best when she does

You have so many pictures of her saved on you phone of her when she’s been sleeping or napping because she’s just so adorable

When you two were cuddling once, she saw that your lockscreen was a photo of her sleeping in a pile of blankets, the sun hitting her face in the perfect angle

Girl was so flustered she couldn’t speak a proper sentence

Overall, a soft angel who only wants the best for you

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behindthewanderlust · 9 months

Text

Noodle’s Gift

Characters - Noodle, Murdoc, Russel, 2D

Summary - It’s Murdoc’s birthday and all he wants is to get the day over with. It’s a good thing Noodle’s a good kid

Word Count - 1,284

Warnings - Everyone is OOC (sorry), Murdoc wallowing in his own sadness, this is ooold

A/N - A really bad fic I wrote last year😭 I gladly welcome constructive criticism! Anything that’ll help me improve :)

——————————————————————————

The sun shining through the window awoke Murdoc. He did his best to avoid it by rolling over, but the stubborn sunlight kept invading his room. Accepting defeat, he grumbled as he kicked his sheets off and got out of bed. Murdoc started to make his way to the bathroom, each step reminding him of what day it was.

Step.

June

Step.

Sixth

Step.

2005

Step.

Your

Step.

39th

Step.

Birthday.

His face naturally twisted into the usual scowl it always carries. Birthdays had never been great for Murdoc. As a kid, all he wanted was a nice birthday party. As an adult, he couldn’t care less about the day.

His scowl grew deeper as he remembered the pencil his father got him for his eleventh birthday.

Fucking Sebastian, he thought, couldn’t have at least pretended to care for a second and get me something I didn’t already have.

Sharp rattles were suddenly heard on the door and Russel’s deep voice was heard. “‘D and I made breakfast, you should come eat.”

“Fine,” Murdoc grumbled, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Russel’s feet shuffled away while Murdoc quickly put his pants on and made his way to the kitchen, wanting to get breakfast over with so he could come back to his room and be miserable.

Breakfast was quiet. 2D and Russ tried to celebrate Murdoc’s birthday back in ‘98, but were met with his shouts and curses, so they never uttered a word about his birthday since. Russel had shared what had happened to Noodle, who never mentioned his birthday, heeding Russel’s warning. This year was different. Noodle was stubborn. Some may say she was too stubborn.

Noodle scarfed down her breakfast despite multiple warnings from Russel and 2D. She didn’t bother listening though. She was excited! She took another bite of food and prepared to speak with her mouth full before she was interrupted by heavy coughs.

Russel, who was closest to her, immediately began patting her back to get her to stop choking.

“Now I don’t know how many times we told you to slow down while you eat,” Russel gently scolded once she stopped choking, “slow down and stop eating like an animal!”

“Sorry, Russ!” she began, “I just-”

“We don’t know what we’d do if this turned into something serious!” 2D jokes, not meaning to interrupt.

“Sorry, I just-“ interrupted again.

“I don’t know any of that CPR stuff, love, Dents here would’ve had to revive ya, and I don’t think any of us would like that,” Murdoc half joked.

“Sorry-“

“You gotta start listening to us when we tell you things! We don’t nag just to nag, y’know,” Russel continued.

Noodle internally groaned. Today is her day to make Murdoc feel nice! And here they are, fussing over her.

“Sorry,” she finally managed to say, “I’m just excited.”

2D was the first to speak up, “about what?”

“You’ll see!”

Breakfast continued to be uneventful, with the boys sneaking glances at Noodle to make sure she ate slowly.

2D had offered to wash the dishes, and began collecting them to put in the sink. Noodle beamed, she could finally do what she wanted to do! With a quick, be right back!, she darted to her room. She gently collected her gifts for Murdoc and walked back to the kitchen.

“Surprise! Happy birthday!” she shrieked, setting her gifts on the table in front of Murdoc, who looked at her in shock. A small red velvet cake, a birthday card with crudely drawn art of the members on the front, and a green balloon sat in front of him. He sat there in shock, not knowing what to do with himself. He had never seen that many birthday gifts before, and he never thought he’d see so many presents addressed to him.

“…do you like it?” she squeaked out.

Murdoc had gone quiet since she walked back in the kitchen. Noodle began to second guess this decision, but a soft hug from Murdoc killed those thoughts.

“…I appreciate this, Noodle,” he managed to get out. He ruffled her hair and frowned, “didn’t have to get me anything, though.”

“I wanted to! I’ve never gotten you anything before,” she smiled.

At first, Russel and 2D were quiet. They were both worried Murdoc would react poorly to the gifts. Russel, relieved to see Murdoc hugging Noodle, broke his silence.

“Happy birthday, Murdoc. Hope it’s a good one.”

2D quietly stood and started to walk over the counter. Murdoc glanced over, suddenly remembering how he yelled at him and Russ the last time he tried to celebrate his birthday. Murdoc began to speak before 2D cut him off.

“I brought plates for the cake,” 2D began to nervously say, “happy birthday, Mudz.”

“Thanks Dents, you too, Russ.”

Noodle clasped her hands together, glad that her gift had been so well received. She quickly grabbed the knife to cut the cake, the fact that she should probably sing the ‘happy birthday’ song slipping her mind. She gave the first piece to the birthday boy, then Russel, 2D, and finally herself. The band enjoyed a nice and quiet moment while happily munching on their slices. Noodle occasionally looked up at Murdoc, curious to see if he was enjoying the cake as much as she was.

On the other end, Murdoc snuck glances at his bandmates (mostly Noodle). He’d never had a birthday celebration, he didn’t exactly know what to do. Still, he felt content. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

While eating their last bites, Noodle asked, “how do you feel?”

“The same as always, love.”

“But it’s your 39th! You really don’t feel anything? I’m gonna feel so grown-up when I turn 15 later this year! 15 is so different from 14, which feels even more different from 13.”

Her bandmates shared a laugh, much to her confusion.

“Once you get older, kid, each day feels like the last. 38 and 39 aren’t too different compared to 15 and 14,” Murdoc replied. Noodle nodded, not exactly liking the answer she got.

Finishing his slice of cake, Murdoc placed his plate in the sink.

“Right, I’m off to the showers,” he stated. 2D and Russel shared their plans while placing their plates in the sink. Noodle wasn’t finished though, and wanted to spend more time with everyone.

“Wanna watch a movie?” she asked, giving the three her best puppy dog eyes.

“I’ve got nothin’ better to do,” 2D shrugged, before turning his attention to dishes.

Russel smiled, “of course, Noodle, I’m always down to watch movies with you.”

Murdoc ruffled her hair once again. “I’ll be down once I finish showering, alright?”

Noodle nodded before rushing off to pick a movie.

Murdoc began the walk back to his room, balloon and birthday card clutched in hand. He slammed the door and locked it before collapsing on the floor. Broken sobs escaped his mouth, unable to stop the sounds by covering his mouth. He tried to wipe his tears but his eyes were like waterworks - no use at all. He stared at the balloon in his hand. He always wanted one as a kid. His father never let him have any normal kid things.

Murdoc remembered seeing a bunch of balloons at birthday parties on TV, and how his dad slapped him when he asked for one. All that didn’t matter though, he finally had one of his own! And it was all thanks to the kid he at first thought nothing of.

Murdoc glanced and the card Noodle gifted him. He didn’t know what he would do with that girl, but he did know one thing:

She would have the best 15th birthday ever.

#2d gorillaz #gorillaz fanfiction #gorillaz headcanons #murdoc gorillaz #russel gorillaz #noodle gorillaz

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mydemonsdrivealimo · 4 months

Text

Halloween (chapter 6)

Book: Open Heart

Chapter: 6/7

Character(s): Jensen Valentine (MC), April Smith (OC)

Rating: Teen

Words: 1186

Chapter Summary: A tense meal between Jensen and his mother

Lyrics:

I know that you fear that I'm wicked and weary

I know that you’re fearin' the end

But I only tell the truth when I'm sure that I'm lyin'

So I'm settin' sail once again

He glanced at the clock on the wall, the second hand ticking away at a record time. He made it there early—for probably the first time in his entire life—after Lenora, his foster mom, dropped him off at a semi-decent diner only a few blocks away from her house.

She asked a few times if he’d rather her stay, but he didn’t think that’d go too well. It was a miracle enough that they granted unsupervised visits. Though, he had a feeling his mom wasn’t too happy about it at all.

The last time he saw or spoke to her was the fifteen minute recess in his last hearing. She stopped on her lunch break, barely spoke two words to him, then left again. It had been over a month since. She had surely received a number of letters on the terms of their visits, considering that she had been ruled unfit to care for him, and this was their first allotted meeting time that she agreed to.

Outside, the sky was still gray but the snow had ceased. He had attended his new school for only two days before winter break, and now there were only a few left until he’d have to go back. They were having their new years celebration tomorrow night and he would be surprised if they let him stay up past 9:00 PM.

He wanted to tell her about how they were. About how sterile their house felt, how his room was made for someone much younger than him, with a toy chest in the corner of the room decorated with classic kid’s toys and little pictures on the walls.

Maybe he should leave out the nice bed with new sheets and blankets, built with a frame and box spring. And maybe the little basket of fruit sitting on their kitchen counter. And the fully stocked fridge, family photos on the walls, and the desk, beanbag, closet doors, and full dresser in his room.

Maybe he just shouldn’t bring it up at all.

A waitress walked by and gestured with a pot of coffee. He shook his head no before checking the empty parking spots outside again.

It had been another ten minutes and she still wasn’t there. Lenora was supposed to be back after an hour, and at this rate they wouldn’t be able to finish their food, even if it was done by then.

He picked at the napkin in front of him, pulling off little pieces and crumpling them up. Snacking on the little crackers in the basket in front of him, he finally heard her shuffle in, trying to take her coat off as the hostess led her in.

She settled in, shoving her coat and purse onto the chair next to her and giving the waitress a smile as she poured her a mug of decaf.

“Hi,” he said as she added her sugar and two creams. She hummed in reply, setting the garbage off to the side of the table, swapping it out for her menu.

He already picked what he wanted before she got there, waiting for her to choose before starting the conversation again.

“How has work been?”

“Oh, just great. The car stopped working again, so I couldn’t get there on Tuesday.”

He never really knew how to respond to her. He knew that things went wrong for her often, and maybe there weren’t many positive things to look for, but it was hard to come up with a response to only negative options. She kept going, talking about how shit work was and the people at work, as he quietly waited for her to be done.

Thankfully the waitress came around again before he had to say anything. They both ordered and sat in silence once again.

“So how are they? Your new parents?” she asked. It didn’t sound like it was in an accusational way, but it was hard to tell when he knew how good she was at hiding it.

“Fine. They’re kinda boring, but it’s okay.”

She gave him a look that told him to keep talking.

“There’s not a lot of color in their house. It looks like it’s a show house, I guess. And they have kinda boring jobs. It’s just not very exciting.”

“Well maybe you should be a little more grateful—raising a kid is fucking expensive, you know that.”

God, he couldn’t fucking tell if she was on his side or not. One minute she was shit talking with him, and the next she was ridiculing him for not being grateful, or appreciative, or thankful enough. Maybe he was reading into it too far, but he wished just once they could have a casual conversation without feeling like he had to worry about saying the wrong thing.

Their food got there and he was quick to start eating, both of them sitting in silence. It was usually like this. Most of the time their conversations couldn’t stay civil, so saying nothing was the safest option.

He thought she’d miss him. Even though it was easier for her—not worrying about getting him to school, not worrying about keeping them in a big enough space, not worrying about putting food on the table for both of them—he thought that maybe they could throw away the tension for one breakfast together.

Something was wrong, though. He didn’t even try to call her in the last month when they were apart, too busy with his new school and new life to even make an attempt. He knew she was probably busy, too, but he couldn’t help but be upset that she didn’t make an attempt either. Even asking more than one question would’ve made it feel semi-normal. Maybe about his school, or what he had been up to, or what they did for the holidays. Even though it wasn’t much, it was better than nothing. It was better than pretending this was how he wanted her to react after not seeing him—truly seeing him—for two months.

But maybe it was wrong that he didn’t miss her as much as he should have, either. He probably should’ve felt bad for not calling—he did every once in a while—but at the same time, it was refreshing. It was refreshing to be away and stressed for different reasons; not ones that threatened his quality of life.

And even now, maybe he shouldn’t feel so bad. Sitting in silence across from her for a brunch she didn’t seem that she wanted to be at. Sitting in silence after two months of barely speaking, after being taken away from her. After a month in a juvenile detention center he shouldn’t have been at. After being made into a fucking spectacle in front of his peers, the community, for a crime that shouldn’t have even gotten him arrested but somehow his two best friends got off with nothing and he was made to look like a whole ass criminal. Where was she then? After years and years of struggle, you’d think getting out of it would be just the miracle they needed.

tagging: @jerzwriter @cariantha @kyra75 @gutsfics @inlocusmads @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations

#jensen valentine #open heart #open heart mc

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astra90x · 2 years

Text

Flufftober Day 16 - “I hate you” — “I love you too”

@flufftober

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Pairing: Sebastian x Reader

Word Count: 1222

Reader Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: Cursing

This is one chapter of an entire linear story! It can be read separately but is better when read as a whole. Enjoy!

❤❤❤❤♡♡♡♡

You’ve never really considered yourself a tabletop board game person, but when Sam invites you along to his session of Solarian Chronicles with Sebastian, your curiosity is piqued enough for you to say yes.

The next Thursday evening, you meet up with Sam and the two of you walk to Sebastian’s house together, where they’ll show you the ropes of the game and you’ll run through a very basic campaign together. It is exciting to be trying something new for once. You hope you’ll enjoy it and maybe this can be another weekly activity on top of Fridays at the saloon.

When you get to Sebastian’s house, he opens the door before you even reach it, beckoning you inside with a wave of his arm. He seems to be quite excited because he doesn’t even wait for you before hurrying into the basement.

Sebastian’s room looks mostly the same as usual, except for the table he has set up in the corner, which is now full of papers and miscellaneous dice. Sebastian and Sam both sit down, looking very comfortable, so you follow their lead and sit down as well.

“Welcome, (Y/N), to your very first game of Solarian Chronicles,” says Sebastian. “I set up a campaign for us to play today, and it’s a short one, so we should be able to get through it all in just a few hours.

“How do I play?” you ask, looking confusedly at all the random papers and dice of all sizes that you’ve never even seen before.

“It’s pretty simple, I’ve already made a few character sheets so you just have to choose whether you’d rather be a warrior, healer, or wizard.”

“Warrior sounds pretty straightforward. Just stabbing things, right?”

“...sure. But once you’ve got your class picked, we’ll run through the campaign, and you’ll have to make decisions for your character and determine how well they go by rolling dice.” Sebastian gestures around the table at the dice strewn around. “The most common is what we call a D-Twenty, twenty being the best number and one being the worst.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“It’s not too bad,” Sam assures you. “I want to be the healer though, if she’s being the warrior.

“I’ll take the wizard, then.” Sebastian gathers together some of the papers and taps them on the table to straighten them out. Once he makes sure that everyone is ready, he starts to read.

The game is pretty easy to get the hang of, and two hours later, when the three of you are walking into the boss’ castle, you actually feel quite excited to be taking down the imaginary antagonist. Sebastian doubles up on leading you through the castle by reading his sheets of paper and fighting along with you, which is impressive, how he manages to switch between both so seamlessly. You figure that he must have gotten used to it, having only Sam to play with him.

After a trek through the castle, you finally make it to the boss room, where Sebastian describes a large demon creature made of fire and smoke. It gives a little bit of dialogue, but then Sebastian has you all roll dice to see who goes first in battle; highest number gets priority.

You end up going first with a roll of 17, and you decide to go a simple route and aim to stab the demon in the heart. Sebastian asks you to roll the dice to see if you hit, which you do with a 16, and then you get to roll for damage.

You pick up the D20 once again and shake it around in your hands, feeling somehow that a lot is relying on this dice roll. Your hands separate and the D20 falls to the table, clinking a few times on the surface before landing on…

…a natural 20.

Sebastian’s jaw drops, and he scrambles for one of his papers, asking, “How much is your attack modifier!?”

“Um, plus four, I think?”

“You just one-shot my fucking boss!” Sebastian drops the paper he had picked up, staring at you in complete disbelief. “I had this whole ass boss fight planned and you killed him in one hit!”

“I’m, uh, sorry?” you say, unable to hold back some snickers when you see Sebastian’s face. Sam snickers beside you as well.

“I hate you so much,” groans Sebastian, his head falling down to rest on the table. “This was going to be so cool.”

“You don’t hate me!” you argue. “You’re just mad I dominated during my first campaign.”

“Exactly. Hatred.”

“Oh, shut up. You know you love me.” The words are out of your mouth before you really think about them, and both Sebastian and Sam look at you in slight surprise. “Like. You know you like me. Fuck.”

“Aww, Sebastian, she loves you,” teases Sam. You shoot him a panicked glare.

“I said he loves me!” you cry. “And I didn’t even mean that!”

“It’s alright, (Y/N),” Sebastian chuckles. “But since you’ve defeated my boss, yada yada, final dialogue, campaign over. Good job.”

It’s a little underwhelming, after a whole adventure just ending it like that, but you’re still pretty content. Checking the time though, you realize you should be heading home if you want to get a good night’s sleep. You inform Sebastian and Sam of this.

“I’ll see you out,” says Sebastian, standing up from the table with you. “Back in a second, Sam.”

You head up the stairs to the main level of the house, Sebastian following right behind, and when you get there you discover the notable absence of anyone else. Usually Robin is at her desk or Demitrius is in his lab, so it’s strange to see the house empty.

“Mom and Demitrius are outside,” Sebastian explains. “They like to sit by the cliff together in the evenings.”

“That’s really cute,” you answer, but the roll of Sebastian’s eyes shows that he doesn’t agree. You figure it’s a touchy subject so you distract him by saying, “Thanks for having me over.”

“I just hope you had fun, even though you ruined my awesome boss fight,” Sebastian replies with a grin. “But anyway, thanks to you too for coming.”

“Have a good night, Sebastian.”

“Yeah, you too. Get home safe.” Sebastian opens the front door for you and you wave goodbye, departing out into the night.

When you get back to your house, you pull out your phone and see that Sebastian has messaged you. It’s one of the first times he ever has, aside from the occasional text asking if you’ll be going to the saloon or something similar. When you check the message though, all it says is, I don’t actually hate you.

I know, you text back, but thanks for clarifying anyway :)

You don’t expect another reply, but your phone buzzes just a few seconds later. You’re sure you liked the game? It wasn’t too nerdy or anything?

You look at the time, realizing that it’s already past nine and you’re feeling pretty tired, but talking to Sebastian seems like a better option than sleeping. You reply, and within another few seconds, he’s gotten back to you, and you’re having a full-on conversation.

You both wake up the next morning with your phones still clutched in your hands.

❤❤❤❤♡♡♡♡

#flufftober2022 #day 16 #stardew valley #sdv sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #x reader

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padfootagain · 1 year

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Because We Are Made of Dreams (II)

Chapter 2 : Kiss and Resolutions

Hello!! Here is chapter 2 for my rewriting of my first fic ever!! Things are slowly set into motion…. I hope you like this new chapter!

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Pairings: Sirius Black x Original Female Character + Jily

Warnings for this chapter: None! Just cute and… nothing particular, really, just setting things into motion.

Warnings for the series: graphic depictions of violence and torture, graphic depiction and mentions of child abuse, mature themes.

Summary: The Marauders come back to Hogwarts to begin their sixth year there, and many things will change for them during these coming months. Outside the safety of their school, the world is growing darker. Inside the Castle, they'll find both new friends and enemies.

Word Count: 5895

"Potions and then Divination,” James announced, letting the sheet of paper fall right into his plate. "I think they're trying to kill us..."

The first day of classes was always a busy one. In the Great Hall, it was time for an early breakfast spent chatting with friends, meeting new people, and most of all it was time to discover the timetables that would organize their lives for the entire year. And sometimes, students were everything but satisfied about it all…

"And again the Slytherins in Potions," muttered Sirius, "It's like they actually want get us into trouble. I mean, haven't they realised yet that it's never a good idea to put us all in the same room?"

Remus nodded, barely touching his food. The full moon was only a week away, and he was already beginning to feel the first effects of his monthly transformations.

“Some of them are alright, though,” Peter tried to cheer his friends up. “Meg’s very nice!”

“I know, Wormtail, I am aware,” Sirius mumbled, chasing his remark away with a quick gesture of the hand. “When I talk about the Slytherins, I mean the idiotic ones.”

“The wannabe Death Eaters,” James nodded, shoving a mouthful of pancake into his mouth.

“And sadly, there are quite a few of these here,” Remus heaved a sigh. “I’ve heard that Jackson - the seventh-year Ravenclaw, you know? – I’ve heard he wants to be a part of it too, after he passes his NEWTs.”

“How nice,” Peter groaned, a dark expression passing on his face, before he would take a sip of pumpkin juice.

“I’m giving us two classes with Snivellus and co. before it all goes to shit,” Sirius predicted, shoving some egg and bacon into his mouth.

“Yeah, well… we’ll see,” Remus shook his head, taking a tiny bite out of his toast. “What else do we have on Mondays?”

While the Marauders were busy talking about their timetables, Clara, Alice and Marlene came to sit next to the four boys, filling the last spots still available around the Gryffindor table.

Professor McGonagall handed them their timetables as well, and Alice soon let out a moan.

“Divination…” she groaned, desperate.

“You should have taken Ancient Runes,” Clara chanted to annoy her some more, until Alice shoved her away. They two of them let out a merry laugh.

Alice was distracted from thoughts of her terrible class though, when her boyfriend took the empty seat next to hers, and dropped a sweet kiss on her forehead.

“Where’s Lils?” he asked, looking around with a frown.

"She's coming. She still had some things to… organize… plan… schedule… or whatever," Clara answered with a vague gesture that clearly indicated that she had no interest in whatever Lily was busy with at the moment.

Casually listening to the girls’ conversation, Sirius couldn’t help but chuckle at Clara’s disgusted expression.

"Now… are you telling us that you’re unorganized, Clearwater?" Sirius asked in a mocking tone, his mouth full of bacon again.

"Very much so," Clara admitted.

“I thought you’d be like Evans: uptight.”

Clara was about to answer, an amused smile on her lips, when she was interrupted by Marlene suddenly grabbing her by the arm

"Oh! Love is in the air..." said Marlene excitedly.

They all followed her gaze towards the doors. Indeed, Liam and Lily were talking, standing on the threshold of the Great Hall. The girl nodded, blushing and grinning, and finally headed towards her friends at the Gryffindor table, whilst Liam was joining the Ravenclaws. Lily sat down next to her friends as if nothing had happened, but no one around the table was fooled.

"All right, spit it out, Lils! Now!" ordered Alice.

"He just wanted to talk to me," the prefect answered, picking up a toast in the most casual fashion she could manage.

"And...?" her three friends encouraged her in unison.

"And... we're going to take a walk at noon."

Marlene was so excited that she almost emptied the bottle of pumpkin juice all over Peter.

"Girls, you really are ridiculous, " Lily admonished, but she couldn’t refrain her grin.

She suddenly stopped eating, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth.

"Do you think I should wear lipstick?" she asked bluntly.

The boys all rolled their eyes, all of them listening to the girls’ conversation by now.

"Pink!" Clara answered in an instant.

"Red!" replied also Alice, in chorus with Clara.

The two girls exchanged a look, before focusing again on Lily.

"Definitely red!" confirmed Alice. "Your lips are perfect, Lils, show them!"

"Don't trust her," replied Clara. "It's not an official date, is it?"

"No, we're just going to talk," Lily shook her head, taking a bite into her toast.

"Then follow this crucial rule of make up: "no date, no red"!"

"This rule is bullshit, Clara," Alice fired back.

The young witch narrowed her eyes and pointed her fork at Alice.

"It's one of my Mum's rules, it's not bullshit! By the way, here is the explanation: it's not an official date, you're just going to talk with him, which means that there is a high probability for nothing to happen at all. After all, you could realise that he doesn't want the same thing as you, that he’s jerk... whatever. In this case you will not want your lips to be irresistible, quite the contrary. But, if everything goes fine, and you want something to happen, you will need lipstick. So, wear pink lipstick. And by pink lipstick I am obviously referring to this lovely one you have, you know the very light one..."

"I don't have any bright pink anyway," Lily smiled.

She seemed to think for a moment, eating slowly, before she could take a decision.

"Sorry Alice, but Clara's right. Pink lipstick it is."

"But Lils, your lipstick is not even pink, it's too discreet!"

"Discretion is good for you, 'cause it's leaving you a way out," replied Clara.

Lily shook her head.

"Pink lipstick, definitely."

James was still half-listening to the girls' conversation, half-listening to the debate that had resumed between Peter and Remus concerning their classes of the day. Had he been asked about the matter, he would have told her not to wear any lipstick at all. She was already perfect, and she didn't need red or pink lipstick to improve the delicate curves of her lips. He always wanted to kiss them anyway…

He shook these thoughts away. He had to stop thinking like this. James had taken a decision, an important one, and he needed to stick to it. Lily was the past. Lily was the past. Lily was the past...

The ginger girl finally took a look at her time table.

"Potions and Ancient Runes, which means Divination for you two."

Alice groaned again.

"Oh, come on Alice, it's not that bad," Frank laughed at his girlfriend.

"It is," Sirius joined in. "It is and has always been utter bullshit."

"Why did you take this class then?" asked Marlene.

Sirius pointed an accusing finger at James, and the four girls rolled their eyes.

"Your problem, Alice, is that you're too honest in Divination," stated Clara. "You have to make things up!"

"I don't know how! What would you do?"

Clara heaved a dramatic sigh, and her four friends already had amused smiles on their faces, knowing that whatever she was going to say next ought to make them all laugh. It was a talent of hers, really.

"I don't know, Alice, I can't answer that question. You have finally discovered my darkest secret: I have the Inner Eye, and I can prove it."

"Prove it then!" Sirius challenged her, already chuckling.

Clara closed her eyes, throwing back her head and making her hands tremble above the table. She took a deep and theatrical tone.

"I see... I see that Lily is going to burn her tongue with her tea..."

At the same moment Lily choked and put her napkin on her mouth, tightly closing her eyes. She had clearly burnt herself with her tea…

They all burst into laughter.

"See? Nothing complicated really," Clara winked.

“How did you know I’d do that?” Lily frowned, but stopped her friend when she was about to answer, knowing all she would receive as an answer was some teasing. “Actually, you know what? Never mind…”

They all laughed again, and for the first time in years, all the Gryffindors enjoyed their breakfast together in a merry gathering.

After breakfast, they all headed together towards the dungeons. It was a bit weird to walk with the boys, but it turned out to be quite pleasant. It was a nice surprise to start their first day. James and Lily barely spoke to each other, and so the girl didn't scowl at him, nor made a scene. And James chose not to ask the girl anything, and merely enjoyed the casual conversations that crossed the group. Clara was grateful, as she was enjoying her own conversation with Sirius. It turned out that he wasn’t as superficial and childish as she had thought he was. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad, after all…

They were walking down the magical staircase, holding the railings as it turned smoothly to the left, pivoting while suspended in mid-air. They had barely reached the entrance of the corridor, leaving the stairs behind, when they passed by a group of fourth-year students. Most of them were Slytherins, but there were a couple of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors as well. Sirius froze at the sight of a dark-haired boy in their midst, sporting the green and silver colours of the Slytherin house. It took him a few seconds to muster the will to walk again, but he did so anyway, following his friends. Clara had stopped to wait for him, a frown on her brow, but she asked nothing. She followed Sirius’ stare instead, glued onto the Slytherin boy, and she was quite taken aback by the striking resemblance between the two teenagers: this boy was an almost-identical replica of Sirius, only two years younger.

Sirius walked past him.

"Reg."

He nodded his head to his younger brother, but Regulus only replied with a disdainful look and strode away, without another look towards Sirius.

The Gryffindor clenched his jaw, looking over his shoulder to stare at his younger brother as he disappeared up the stairs.

"Your brother?" Clara asked.

"Yeah..."

Sirius had managed to avoid Regulus on the train and at the feast the previous night. Though it was obvious that he couldn't escape from his little brother forever in this way-too-small castle, Sirius had hoped that their first confrontation since he had run away from his parent's house would be delayed as much as possible. And he couldn’t hide it, the way it still hurt to have his younger brother look at him this way. Because this… this wasn’t Sirius’s fault. None of it was…

"He didn't seem very happy to see you," Clara added.

"Long story."

She noticed that he Sirius didn’t seem eager to speak about it, so she dropped it. Instead, she picked up the conversation where they had left it, and asked him again about his favourite Queen song. Sirius smiled. He felt grateful for it.

When both James and Remus turned towards him, wearing worried frowns, he gave them a reassuring nod.

He would be alright. He was always alright.

Lily could feel Severus’s stare burning a hole in her skull, and she hated it.

After what had happened at the end of the previous year, she couldn’t be his friend anymore. She couldn’t talk to him, let alone sit next to him and partner with him for this class. After all, he had insulted her; he had betrayed her, in more ways than one.

His loss. She was determined to not let him ruin her new year at Hogwarts.

She was now sitting next to Marlene, but she couldn’t ignore the disappointment in the Slytherin’s eyes as she walked past him, as she took her seat next to her Gryffindor friend. She couldn’t ignore the way he stared at her now.

And she hated it. She hated it because it made her feel guilty, when none of this was her fault. He was the one who had fucked up, insulting her, becoming friends with people who looked down on her as their inferior, at best; as some kind of vermin to get rid of, at worst. She couldn’t be his friend anymore, and it wasn’t her fault. He had no rights to glare at her like this, as if she was the one making the other suffer…

She tried to focus again on the task at hand, writing down the ingredients for the first potion they would study this year.

Moonstone, seaweeds, dried grass…

She had noticed Avery sitting down next to Severus. And Avery was not a kind person at all. He was part of the most fervent followers of Voldemort’s ideology in the school.

What was Severus doing with this kind of people?

She shook her head, copied the list of ingredients written on the blackboard again.

Mandrake, salt, a pinch of silver dust…

She hated herself for feeling guilty, as if she was abandoning him, somehow. She wanted to believe he could still be saved, but what was the point? Over and over again, it seemed, he kept on proving her wrong.

Was it truly selfish, then, to push him out of her life? He could only bring darkness, and there was enough fear and hurt outside the protective walls of the school. No, it wasn’t selfish to push him away. He was the one who was wrong, she reckoned she had been patient enough with him. If he wanted to follow the wrong path, it was his choice. She would be sad for him, still. Maybe, one day, he would realize how wrong he had been…

Again, her quill wrote down instructions, although her brain wasn’t registering any information for now, it was too busy thinking about the past.

Stir for fifteen minutes until the concoction becomes grey.

She heard some quiet laughs coming from somewhere behind her, and wasn’t surprised when she caught Sirius and James trying their best to stifle their laughter. She saw Remus glimpsing over his shoulder too, and shaking his head at his two friends, amused, while Peter smiled at the mere sound of his friends’ quiet laughter.

It was strange to start her sixth year spending time with these guys, but James seemed willing to let her be and it was a great improvement, for sure. And then, there was Liam, that she was about to take a walk with, and maybe… maybe he would be her boyfriend by the end of the day.

It was a crazy year already, for sure… full of surprises.

The lesson passed by rather quickly, even though it was a little dull. But as she was throwing her bag on her shoulder, Slughorn asked Lily to stay for a moment. She couldn’t refrain a wince as he asked Severus to do the same. The teacher waited for his classroom to be empty to speak to his two students.

"Why aren't you two partnering anymore?" he asked, crossing his arms before him. “The two of you work so well together, it’s a shame!”

"It's personal, professor," Lily answered quickly, so Snape would not have a chance to give his own excuse, "I don't think I can work with him anymore, that's all."

"Well, I'm quite sad to hear this. Is everything alright, though, Ms. Evans?"

"I'm sorry, professor. But yes, everything is fine. I simply don’t want to work with Severus for now."

Slughorn seemed to hesitate, but chose to drop the subject. Next to Lily, Snape was remaining silent, but he clenched his fists, hiding the gesture behind his back.

"Well, off you go then,” their teacher added with a smile. “It doesn't matter very much I guess, and you can't be late for class on your first day, not on my account!"

The two students exited the room in silence. It was heavy, painfully so. Too much to last for too long. Severus ended up taking a deep breath, before trying one more time to convince her…

"Lils..."

"Sev, don’t,” she quickly interrupted him, unwilling to listen to arguments she had heard a hundred times before. “There's nothing you can say that will make me forgive you for what you did last year. You insulted me and humiliated me in front of the whole school..."

"I'm sorry, Lils. How many times will I have to apologise?"

She stopped walking and heaved a deep sigh.

"It's not just about last year, Sev. It's everything. I don't recognise you anymore, and the gang of Slytherins you've become friends with… they aren't good people, and they'll get you into trouble."

"But Potter and his gang won't get you into trouble, will they?" he snapped.

"What?"

"I saw you at breakfast with them this morning, and you came with them to the dungeons. They aren't good people either, Lils! Have you forgotten what they’ve done? What Potter has done?"

"You're acting like you’re jealous again, Sev, and this is another reason why I can't be your friend anymore."

She strode towards the staircase, but she stopped and turned back one last time towards the Slytherin as she was climbing upon the first step.

"And just so you know, James Potter may be something of a git sometimes, but at least he and his friends have nothing against muggleborns, against people like me and my friends. He's annoying, but he doesn't insult me. And he drives me insane, but he’s never been mean to me or tried to control me. So, I guess between the two of you, my choice is easy to make."

She ran up the stairs, fleeing from Severus's hurt gaze.

She felt guilty, terribly so. She hated to see so much pain in the eyes of someone who used to be her friend… And yet, she knew she had taken the right decision. Maybe, one day, things would get better between the two of them. But for now, she couldn’t simply forgive and forget.

Sirius was starting to doze off, partly hidden behind his crystal ball. Their extremely old teacher, Professor Needles, was trying to explain how they could all use this extraordinarily powerful tool to glimpse into their future, but no one was really listening; except for Remus, as always. But as the boy was listening to every class anyway (even History of Magic, and Merlin knew that was the worst), it didn't really count.

The classroom in itself wasn’t helping the bored students to remain focused. It was dimly lit with only a couple of tiny round windows, decorated with stained glass that painted colourful shapes upon the wooden floor. The walls of stone were covered with heavy tapestries, making the air of the room heavy with the dust that settled between the threads. They were old, dusty, and their colours had faded long ago, making some of the images barely readable now.

In this heavy atmosphere, it was hard not to feel tired; and the boring monologue of their teacher, spoken with a monotonous voice, was not helping.

"By the way, Prongs, are you alright?" Peter asked, sitting straighter again, in an attempt to stay awake.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" answered his friend, taking off his glasses and rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"Well, I don't know, Lily and Liam will probably be officially together by the end of the day, so..."

"How delicate, Wormtail, as usual…" Sirius replied dryly, while keeping his eyes closed, his cheekbone resting in his palm.

Peter scowled at him.

"I'm fine, Wormtail, thanks," answered James.

It was a lie, obviously. He wasn't fine at all, actually. How could he be fine? Lily would soon be snogging some stupid Ravenclaw, how could James be alright?

The mere thought of Liam kissing her made him nauseous…

But he was determined to not let any of his feelings show. He was going to get over Lily, and he had no intention to wallow in self-pity. She was moving on, and he was going to do the same. Or well… moving on… He guessed Lily wasn’t moving on, as she had never felt anything for him at all…

He cleared his throat, folding and unfolding the corner of his parchment in a bored gesture. He was fine. Everything was fine…

"You know what, Prongs? You should do the same as Lily," Sirius told him, finally opening his eyes to look at his friend.

"What do you mean?" James questioned him, resting his chin in his palm, still playing absentmindedly with his parchment.

"You should find yourself a girlfriend."

"I’ve already tried this Sirius, remember?” James answered with a wry chuckle. “Many times. And it never works."

Sirius shot him a mischievous smile, a triumphant glint alit in his grey eyes as he sat straighter again and leaned a little above the round table towards his friend.

"Ah, but you’ve tried to heal yourself with snogging and sex… I'm talking about the real thing right now."

"What do you mean?" asked Remus.

Even he couldn't focus too long upon the nonsense their teacher kept on speaking.

"You should try to have a real girlfriend, to have a serious relationship," Sirius added.

James didn't answer. It didn't sound that stupid, actually...

"I mean," Sirius went on, "maybe if you're with someone who actually wants to be with you, you'll want to be with her too after a while. And then, you'll forget Lily."

James nodded slowly.

"That's a good idea, I reckon."

"It's weird, but sounds logical," agreed Remus.

“I’m a little hurt that you both seem surprised by the fact that I’m having a brilliant idea.”

“Those are pretty rare, coming from you,” Remus teased him, owning himself a playful glare.

"Now, we have to find you a girl, Prongs,” Sirius stated with a bright grin on his lips. “Operation HGP is on!"

"Operation what?" asked Peter.

"H.G.P: Hot Girl for Prongs."

The four boys chuckled, choking on their own laughter as they tried to remain as quiet as possible. But their teacher kept on monologuing, and he didn’t notice a thing. He was slowly pacing through the classroom, his dark robe making a soft sound as it brushed upon the floor at every step.

"I know, I'm the best with codenames," said Sirius, "no need to remind me."

"You're the best, Pads," agreed James.

"Or the most idiotic, it depends on the point of view," replied Remus mockingly.

They doubled over with laughter, choking as they tried to remain as silent as possible.

But as they grew calmer again, James grew unusually weary, his shoulders slumping down as if a heavy weight had been thrown onto them.

"Do you think she will go out with this jerk?" he asked his friends, staring blankly at the crystal ball in front of him.

"I'm afraid there's a rather high probability for her to accept, Prongs," Remus answered slowly, a sad smile full of compassion on his features.

James sighed, straightening his glasses.

"Well, operation H.G.P. it is, then."

He smiled, but didn’t manage to fully hide his sadness, while he kept on staring at his crystal ball, wondering what would happen at noon...

He saw her coming his way across the grass. The sun was blue and bright despite the heavy rain from the previous night. The air still smelled of it though, of the raindrops that covered the earth and grass and trees for a while. The ground was still a little muddy, but Lily didn’t seem to care as she strode towards him, shooting him a bright smile as she spotted him. It was quiet in the grounds: a gentle breeze drawing ripples and strange patterns across the lake; in the distance, the Whomping Willow slowly swayed; a steady white smoke escaped towards the sky from Hagrid’s hut.

And as she walked closer to him, Liam reckoned that Lily truly was beautiful in this September sun…

She joined him by the Lake, at last. He noticed that she looked nervous, her freckled cheeks slightly coloured with a blush.

They spent some time casually chatting about their summer holidays, about their first classes of the morning. But Liam was becoming more and more nervous with each passing minute. So, when the conversation died down by itself after a while, he slowed down their pace, lingering on a spot of the shores of the lake where merpeople sometimes dwelled during the summer.

It was empty now though, a patch of pebbles and sand bordered by high grass and calm water.

She turned to him, frowning a little as if to silently ask him what this was about. He took a deep breath, and dived, even though his voice was uncertain and a little weak.

“We should talk about what happened yesterday."

Lily nodded, but didn't say anything. She looked down at the ground instead, clearly nervous now.

"All right, I guess it's better if I'm direct," Liam announced.

He inhaled sharply, trying to control his shaky voice, to gather his courage, to calm his crazy nerves...

"I really like you, Lily,” he blurted out the words as if he was afraid to grow too scared to speak them out loud again if he waited, if he tried to say it in a more delicate way. “And… I'd really like you to give me a chance."

"You do like me?" Lily cautiously asked him, looking up at him once more.

Her gaze was intense and hypnotic, made of vivid shades of green under the bright sun. The Ravenclaw had to force himself to answer.

"I do. And yesterday, it felt like you liked me too, right?"

Lily blushed hard, but nodded.

"I like you too,” she confessed, her words passing slowly her lips, as if with reluctance. “But... I would be lying if I claimed that I’m confident with all this. So, I don't want us to go too fast... Now, that being said… I’m really happy with what happened yesterday on the train."

Liam grinned at her. She was wearing a discreet, but beautiful pink lipstick, and her lips were even more tempting in this shade. He was sure that she wasn't wearing it that morning, she had probably put it on just before meeting him… for him. His grin doubled in size at the thought.

"It's fine by me. I mean… I get it. I’m not particularly used to this either, so… We should take things slow. But I'd love it if you wanted to be my girlfriend, Lils."

She smiled, nodding again.

"I'd love that too," she answered, blushing even more.

He smiled, his voice soft and gentle when he asked his next question.

"Is it alright if I kiss you right now?"

She nodded once more, and he took her face in his hands, kissed her softly on the lips by the shore of the calm Lake.

"SO?" Marlene asked the moment Lily sat at the Gryffindor table at lunch.

Lily didn't answer, but her grin and the reddening of her cheeks spoke volumes. Her three friends almost shouted in the middle of the Great Hall, causing their classmates to look at them. Frank almost choked on his chicken as he started laughing.

"I told you to wear red lipstick!" Alice winked, full of mischief.

"Pink was perfect," Lily replied with a laugh.

"So, you finally have a boyfriend. Definitely not too soon..." commented Marlene.

Lily threw some bread at her friend, shushing her.

"It's weird though that James hasn’t said anything about it," Alice pointed out. "Even this morning when we were talking about you and Liam in front of him, he didn't react at all."

"I hope it stays that way,” Lily answered in a sigh. “I'm tired of his stupid game, really."

"You know, I was thinking about this and…" Clara said slowly, choosing carefully her words. "I'm not sure that it was just a game anymore. Yesterday, he asked on the train what was going on between you and Liam, and he really did look hurt when I told him you were close."

But Lily rolled her eyes.

"It just hurts his monumental ego that he couldn't change my mind. He doesn't care about me, Clara. I'm a challenge, that's all, and he was disappointed because he didn't win."

"I don't know, Lils, I think he's more honest than you think about you two," replied Frank.

"No, he's not. Trust me, he's not."

Frank and Clara shrugged. After all, Lily didn’t like James, and she had chosen, Liam who seemed to be a nice guy. He was a prefect, he was a safe choice, he seemed to suit the girl quite well. As Clara glanced over at the Marauders further down the table, they were laughing and joking merrily, as if nothing was wrong. She shrugged again, focusing on her mashed potatoes. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe it was nothing serious at all...

James took out a bottle of ink, a quill and a piece of parchment.

He was sitting with the rest of the Marauders in the empty space at the centre of their dorm. It was night already, they were coming back from dinner in the Great Hall. But it was not time to sleep, the Marauders had some work to do.

It was a tradition, really. As Remus passed the bag of jelly beans to Peter, he couldn’t refrain a smile. It was nice to have these rituals with the boys. It made him feel at home. It made them all feel like they were more family than mere friends…

Since their second year, the four boys gathered like this after their first day of class, sitting on the wooden floor while eating treats, in order to write down their list of resolutions for the year. The list would then be hanged next to Remus’s bedpost, and he was the one in charge to remind the group of the missions they decided to fulfill before the next summer break.

James cleared his throat, dipping the tip of his quill into the dark ink.

"All right, fire away!"

Behind him, Frank closed his curtains, laughing softly and thanking himself for the sound-proofing spell he had cast on the curtains during his third year. This spell really was saving his life... or well, his nights at least...

"I'll start the list with 'getting over Lily Evans', I reckon it's an important point," James added, half-joking as he began to write. “What else?"

"No Exploding Snap for Peter in the dorms," said Remus.

"Hey!" Peter protested, but he was quickly interrupted by James.

"No Wormtail, Moony's right. You really did scare us last year when you set your curtains on fire..."

The boy added Remus's remark to their annual list of resolutions, straightening his lopsided glasses.

"Don't accept students in their second year on the Quidditch team," said Sirius wisely.

James nodded and wrote it down, sadly remembering how the second-year boy he had selected the past year had vomited on his broomstick at the beginning of their first match…

"Clean up the dorm," said Remus.

Sirius and James looked up at him with surprise.

"You still have hope? After five years?"

Remus sighed.

"Write it down anyway," said Peter. “For Moony.”

James shrugged and bent over the parchment again. He ran a hand through his messy hair as he quickly went through the list.

"Prepare a good prank against the Slytherins before the end of September," James added.

His three friends enthusiastically nodded.

"Spend more time with the girls," said Sirius.

They all frowned at him.

"Which girls?" asked Peter.

"The Gryffindors, of course. Who else could I be talking about?”

Remus rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"Padfoot, we've already talked about that, and there's only one tiny rule concerning your passion for girls and boys you must follow: do not touch the Gryffindor girls in our year. Is that really that complicated?"

Sirius glowered at him.

"I didn't mean that, Moony. I said talking to them, not snogging them. Besides, you’re saying that as if I was only thinking about sex, which is not true at all."

"Why do you want to talk with them anyway?" asked Peter.

Sirius shrugged.

"I don't know, they're okay, I guess. And you can't deny that we had a good time during the trip to Hogwarts yesterday. Clara's funny."

James narrowed his eyes.

"Do you want to talk to the girls or to Clara?"

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"The girls. I'm just pointing out the fact that they might not be as boring as I thought they were."

Remus threw him a stern look.

"Sirius, I know them better than you. And Clara is funny, it's true. And she's clever, and kind-hearted, and she's also a human being whom I appreciate very much. I officially forbid you to try anything with her. Do you understand?"

"Moony, again, I said talk, not snog. She's a Gryffindor in our year, I know, thanks, and I don't intend to 'try anything with her'. I just enjoyed talking with her. It's not like I've been flirting with her, anyway. Why are you so upset?"

"It's not like you usually care about girls, Pads," replied James.

"Okay, you know what, don't write it down. I just meant that we should try to be more friendly with them, and know them better, because we've all enjoyed their company today, but as you seem to think that I can't control myself..."

"That's not what I meant, Padfoot," said Remus. "I just don't want you to hurt her, that's all. She's very pretty after all, and..."

"I didn't say all this because I thought she was pretty, I just genuinely enjoyed talking with her. For Merlin’s sake, I’m not a pervert. I’m not obsessed with sex..."

"So, you don't find her attractive at all?" asked Peter, propping up an eyebrow.

Sirius sighed and shook his head, annoyed.

"Of course, I think she's attractive, Wormtail. I'm not blind. But she's a laugh, I enjoyed myself with her today, and on the train. End of story."

James bent over and started to write.

"Prongs, don't write it down, it'll upset Moony."

"No you're right, Padfoot. We should talk to them more."

"All right. But also write down the fact that Sirius can't touch Clara, nor any of the girls," Remus said.

"Already did."

"I can feel your trust and faith in me, guys," replied Sirius, glowering at them.

"It's not that way, Pads..." said Remus. “I’m just… you can’t handle a relationship, don’t try to deny it. And I know Clara, she wouldn’t settle for anything less. So… just… don’t…”

"It's okay Moony, I understand. I’m well aware of the fact that I’m emotionally unstable.”

“Pads…”

“What? It’s true,” Sirius shrugged, genuinely unphased by the statement. “They’re nice, though.”

“Alright, I’ve written that down,” James nodded, looking up at his friends again. “What else should we put on there?”

They spent most of their night chatting and laughing and joking, while adding another item to their list from to time to time. It was a merry night in the boys’ dormitory.

A good way to start a new year…

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

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black

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tanushakyrano · 1 year

Text

febuwhump day 11: fever

we will pretend that it is not a couple minutes after midnight please and thank you,,, bit more light-hearted one today!

characters: Gordon, Alan, Kayo

additional warnings: none

_____________

The thing that finally takes him out is the flu, because of course it is. Two years of WASP and two more in iR refusing to be kept down by injuries, but he catches the common cold and suddenly Gordon is confined to his bed for a full week.

It had started out as a sore throat. Not too bad, he just downed a honeyed tea in the morning and hoped for the best.

Then, like an idiot, he'd gone on a rescue to Antarctica.

That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He wakes on Saturday morning feeling like he's been dragged through a hedge in his sleep. Every limb aches. He has a headache that ranks easily in his top ten most painful over the course of his life, and that's including all the concussions. The light hurts his eyes. Gordon groans, and curls up under the covers as if he's five again, and not being able to see the world will mean the world can't see him and therefore his problems will magically disappear.

It doesn't work.

He's too hot and too cold all at the same time, but in the end the hot overpowers the cold and he struggles out from under his tangled sheets to try and get a breath of fresh air. His skin feels all sort of sticky, which really, really sucks.

The sheets aren't completely enveloping him any more, but he's still too hot and he kicks them off. It takes him a minute; clearly he’d tossed and turned so much in his sleep that they’ve coiled around him, trapping his limbs.

All of a sudden he just really wants a nice cool glass of water.

Down to the kitchen it is, then. The world spins alarmingly as he pushes himself up off the bed, which is fine, right? It's fine. He's fine. Just needs a second for his head to clear.

The bare floorboards are delightfully cool on his feet. Gordon pads out of his room, one hand on the wall as he heads downstairs.

Unfortunately, the kitchen is not empty when he gets there. Alan is mid-fridge-raid, eating pickles straight out of the jar, looking distinctly like a raccoon rooting around for scraps in the trash. Gordon tries to sneak past him quietly, just get a drink of water and head off somewhere else, but his body is not having it. His limbs are all disjointed. He catches his foot on the tiles and all of a sudden Gordon is lying face-up on the floor, a wide-eyed face staring back at him in concern.

"You look like shit," Alan deadpans, crouching next to him.

Gordon groans.

Alan sits him up carefully against the island. Gordon's head is pounding even worse after it slammed full speed into the ground, white-hot needles sticking into his skull. His brother's hand rests against his forehead, wonderfully cold against the fire in his body.

"Dude. You're like, really sick." Alan's kneeling by his side. "You should be in bed."

"Bed is for losers," Gordon mumbles. Alan raises an eyebrow. Clearly, he's not impressed.

"Alan? Are you still-"

Kayo stops mid-sentence, head poking round the doorway. "Oh. What's wrong with you?"

"He's sick," Alan informs her, despite Gordon's attempts to speak over him and claim that he's fine, actually, he just needs a glass of water. "He fell over."

Kayo sighs, coming over to crouch at his other side. "How about we get you somewhere comfier than the floor?"

Being not on the floor sounds pretty great to Gordon about now. He nods, and Kayo slings one of his arms around her shoulders and hauls him up. It sets the whole room off spinning again.

"C'n I have… some water?" he asks, the words tripping over themselves on his tongue.

"Course." Kayo raises her eyebrows at Alan - still hovering round them both, unsure of what to do - and he nods in understanding after a second, heading over to the cupboard with the glasses in it. "You can have a drink once we're sat down in the den, okay?"

" 'Kay." He chuckles. "Get it? Cause…I said okay. 'N you're Kayo."

She shoots him a look. "Your endless wit continues to astound me."

"Love you too…"

They're halfway to the couch when Gordon's brain shorts out. He's trying his best, he really is, but his head just hurts so much and his ankle's still twinging from when he fell in the kitchen. It doesn't faze Kayo, though; she simply scoops him up, carrying him the rest of the way before laying him down on the couch, propped up by the cushions.

Alan helps him sip at the water he's brought in from the kitchen. Kayo tucks a blanket over him. It's nice. Better than lying on the floor, anyway.

The drowsiness that's been deep in his bones since he opened his eyes that morning finally takes ahold of him. Surrounded by his siblings, Gordon sleeps.

#thunderbirds are go #cora writes #gordon tracy #alan tracy #kayo kyrano #febuwhump23 #whump

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benbunny · 11 months

Text

@missyling asked how I use Excel sheets to organize my AG collection, so here’s an explanation! This is so obnoxiously overkill, but I love lists and organizing and keeping track of things, so I find it really fun. Pretty long post with images ahead, so see below the read-more.

I’ll use Ruthie’s collection as a block-by-block example, but I’m slowly doing this for all of my dolls.

I have one Excel Sheet document, but each doll has a “page” at the bottom, so I’m not just looking at one massive sheet for all of my dolls. Pages are listed left -> right in chronological order, since most of my dolls are historical. I put friends doll collections on the same page, so Ruthie and Stirling are both on Kit’s page. The names highlighted in green are the ones I’ve finished formatting and filling in sets from the AG wiki (if there are any - I have a few OC/non-AG characters). The others are still works in progress. Super tiny, unreadable image up ahead, just so you can see what a full “page” looks like, but my other screenshots are zoomed in to just a few boxes, so they’ll be legible and not overwhelming.

So each page has a big section for each doll. If there’s only one doll on the page (for example, Kaya, since I don’t have any of her “friends”), it is much less overwhelming. For Kit’s page in the screenshot above, there are three main sections, one for each doll. It’s super small, but you can kind of see that the top row has KIT in the far left corner, then about 5 columns, then a blank column, then RUTHIE, then another 5 and a blank column, then Stirling and another 5. I’m only ever looking at one character at a time, so I never have it zoomed out this much.

This is what I’m usually looking at. This is one sub-section within Ruthie’s collection. I have a fixed/frozen row at the top with the character name and column titles: set/item name and year, the contents of the set, the value (I’ve been trying to do this for insurance purposes, or so I would have a reference point if I ever needed to quickly sell anything -- I’m not super good about remembering this, but I try to fill in the cost of the set when it came out and how much I actually purchased it for on the secondhand market or wherever. Most of this column is blank and I’m still working on this; I feel like I also might need the current “going” price for this set, if I ever wanted to use this for like insurance-related stuff. I’m not sure though. This column is most definitely overkill, but I like to Know Things), a column listing any of the items in a set that I’ve DIYed or replaced with something else (this is also where I note any damages, for example one of Kit’s meet shoes has a stain - I’ve noted that in this category), and any pieces that I’m missing from that set. When I have a full, completed set, I’ll fill the name box with green. If I don’t particularly care to have a full set, I’ll fill the name box with red (though this used to mean that a set was almost complete, so it’s a little inconsistent). The bold MEET on the side is just to organize the sets into “sections.” The others I have are BEDTIME, WINTER, SCHOOL, etc.

For AG-released dolls like Ruthie, I list every set that was ever released for her (whether I want to own it or not), as well as “new” sets that I think fit her collection. In the first column, where the “section” goes, I put in parentheses if I’ve stolen the set from another character. For example, I think Kit’s Striped Nightie should be Ruthie’s, so I’ve put it under Ruthie’s BEDTIME category, with (Kit) in parentheses, so I know where the set originated. This means that there can be duplicate sets on here, but each set has a dedicated “owner” that doesn’t change, even if other dolls borrow it. So the Striped Nightie is firmly Ruthie’s -- it is still listed under Kit’s collection, but it says (Ruthie) in the far left column, so I know it’s listed twice. This may be a little nonsensical, but it’s the way that works best for me at the moment. If I’ve made up a completely new set for a character, I put (New) in the far left column. See the Winter Coat set, which I plan to sew based on the book illustrations; this isn’t a coat taken from another character’s collection, nor is it an AG original for Ruthie, so I label it (New). You can see that I added a (New) Plaid Holiday Dress set -- since this Etsy dress isn’t meant to be a reproduction of the original AG Holiday Dress (it looks totally different), I created a new “set” for it. If I had sewn a reproduction of her AG Holiday Dress, meant to look like it, I would write that in the official Holiday Dress row, and note that it was handmade under my Repro/off-brand/damaged column (I really need to rename this column “comments” or something).

I also have a MISC OUTFITS section for other items that don’t really have a better place. For long-running AG dolls like Kit, I usually have several “MISC” sections: outfits, accessories, etc. As you can see in this screenshot, I have plenty of ideas for Ruthie’s collection, but I don’t actually own any of these. As I said, I don’t actually intend to own all (or even most) of the sets I put in the Excel sheet, but I’m a little forgetful and just like to know what’s out there (AG Wiki is great, but the ads make it difficult to use for long periods of time, so I like to keep my own running list of all the sets released).

Here’s Stirling’s current collection. His looks a little different than Ruthie’s, since he was never an AG-released doll, so has no “official” collection. Everything on here is something that I (theoretically) would like to own for him. You can see that I’m still kind of testing out the best place to put the shop name for handmade items that I purchased -- I would really like to keep track of this, but I’m not quite sure where. If I write “handmade” with no other info, it means that I handmade it. You can also see where I flip-flopped on the meaning of the red box; when I wrote this out for Stirling, I was still thinking that red = almost complete. By the time I went back and did Kit’s, I had decided that red = a set that I don’t really want. I’ll go back and fix it at some point....

For a more familiar, classic collection, let’s look at Kit’s MEET section. I have all of her meet sets listed, both classic and BeForever. Again, the red here means that I’m not really interested in owning these sets. I do want to keep track of them, because I like Knowing Things, but I don’t want to own them. You can also see how inconsistent I’ve been with the Value column; I can never decide if I should put the original price (for Kit doll, from 2000), the price I paid (a gift in 2008/9), or the price it would cost to replace (now, currently, on AG’s website). It doesn’t really matter, but I just like to keep track of stuff, I guess.

Like I said, I find this really fun; I am absolutely an Excel Sheet Girlie. I’m also working on it super slowly; I’ll take an afternoon to sit down and copy over all the sets from AG Wiki, then maybe another afternoon to add in my “custom” info -- the pieces I have, the add-ons I’ve made, etc. It’s a fun way to engage with my collection and, weirdly enough, it does help curb my doll hoarding habit. Knowing that I have all this info and can check it at any time really quiets that little voice in the back of my head telling me to buy every AG set as soon as it releases for full price because What If It Retires And Never Comes Back? -- with this, I can remind myself that I already have SO MUCH DOLL STUFF and that the fun of collecting (for me, at least) is less about the buying/owning, and more about the Lists and Knowing and Sorting, lol. It also helps when I’m “spring cleaning” and trying to downsize -- if an item doesn’t have a “place” on the Excel Sheet and I’m not 100% in love with it, it probably deserves a new home.

#my posts #american girl dolls #doll collecting #again...the autism really jumped out methinks

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 8 months

Text

Just gonna talk about my current WIP

... and life. Because this is a nice cozy place where I can do that and only one of you knows me IRL.

So, in July, I was laid off. Well, my team was laid off. One of the many casualties in the "who needs DEI" wave. I can't even be particularly mad about it because that job was horrible. I dreaded work every day and I'm pretty sure that had I stayed, my health would have suffered more than it already had.

Then came the burnout. That shit hit me like a freight train. I've spent the majority of the last 2.5 months trying to give myself space to rest as much as possible (while also job hunting because I'm not exactly in a position that I can just BE unemployed). And y'all, rest is hard. Like really hard. But we're working on it.

While I 100% view this as a time I can and must rest, it also feels like an opportunity to actually focus on writing.

Hell, if I'm being honest, it feels like the universe went, "You said you would do this if you only had time to dedicate to it. Here you go." Now I've just gotta do the thing. Which... is also hard.

I've had several WIPs bubbling away for years now. Ones I've shared with folks, ones people ask me about. But the one I'm focusing on right now I haven't shared with anyone.

It's too personal, but not in a way that folks would assume. It's not autobiographical (though it is set just outside of Boston, where I'm now calling home) or anything of that sort. It's simply that I'm so in love with the two main characters I'm nervous to say anything about the story to folks close to me until it's finished.

But no one is likely to see this so I'm gonna share a bit here:

Toni. Bless Toni. She's a little me and probably a little you too. The definition of someone running toward something even though far too many people think she's running away. She is a woman who refuses to accept good enough and deals with the repercussions of that--especially as a fat woman (a through line in most of my femme MCs). In her case, she chose to end a relationship with a man most people considered a catch--ya know a catch who thought he could convince her to have a baby she said she didn't want--and move across the country rather than allow herself to stay in a situation that made her miserable. Now, alone--save for her best friend a few towns over--she's rebuilding her life and unpacking the baggage that says she's unreasonable and unreliable for choosing her happiness.

And y'all... Cillian. Lord. He's a local boy--complete with that Bahston accent--and built like a tank. Everyone around him can see how golden his heart is, not because he wears it on his sleeve but because he has an aura of goodness that is almost impossible to miss. Were you to tell him that, he'd tell you you're full of shit. The thing about Cillian is that he's the kind of good that comes from going through hell. In his case, hell was literal war. Now, 10 years out of the military and 8 sober, he's still reconciling with parts of himself he'd rather bury. Think a little Bucky Barnes with a dash of Frank Castle and then the rest, well the rest is just Cillian: The boy who should have been a musician, not a soldier. The man who runs his family's bar and escapes to his property in New Hampshire when the world is too much. The 6'2" 275lb brick of muscle that collects floral robes and buys expensive sheets and falls so in love with a gorgeous plus size powerhouse of a woman that it undoes him a little.

I love them. I love how they're going to open up with one another, to allow the other to see the parts of them that are still bleeding and know that it will be ok.

(They also fuck like rockstars so there's that.)

I'm still working on the first draft, but I think I can have it done in the next couple of weeks. From there, revisions and then MAYBE eyes that aren't mine.

Hopefully, someone other than me cares about their slow conversations, the softness of their fall, the low stakes but high emotion of it all.

-sigh-

Anyway. That's been my world of late. Thanks for being the void tumblr.

Love ya.

#wip #original fiction #personal #writeblr #author life

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

The Daughter Of Yule

Media IRL

Character Tbs

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Spooky

Concept Dance in the Yule tide flames

I laid between the small cotton sheets attempting to keep out the chill of this... strange unearthly cold. My fire burnt well breaking away at the many logs I had loaded onto it the flames rising high yet no heat reached me. The only light that lit my small cottage was that of the flames causing haunting shadows to dance across my walls and floor. I tried to get some sleep unsure how late it must now be and I had a full day of work by dawn. I sat up in bed holding my breath and listening closely. I could have sworn I heard someone. someone singing. I listened as close as I could trying to see if I could hear it and I most certainly could. I moved setting my feet on the floorboards feeling this strange vibration. I picked myself up slipped on my boots and my jacket looked out the little window seeing flickering lights beyond the trees. I hurried out of my little cottage shutting it up behind me being quick but soft on my feet as I headed down the little pathway out towards the woods following the flickering light of flames, feeling the ground below my feet shaking and almost pounding I headed deeper and deeper into the woods the deeper I headed into the woods, the warmer it became, the stronger these feelings of vibration in the ground below my feet, I kept hearing in time with the vibrations these loud drums. even on the wind was this sweet whistling like the sounds of someone playing the flute or other type of instrument. The deeper into the woods I got and further away from the village the louder this hypnotic drumming became, my feet feeling the shaking of the earth along with each of the drum beards, the sweet song playing.

When suddenly the thick trees cleared and revealed to me the source of all this.

There stood a tall thick tree with many logs stacked at its roots, said logs were aflame the tree sparking and sending embers fluttering into the dark starry sky the heat coming off alot where the whole tree was burning. I could hear the drums almost deafening but I couldn’t see anyone playing them the ground shaking so much It almost made me fall over. And there stood a woman.

Barefoot in A long brown skirt and white off-shoulder shirt. A little clay item in her hand that she was blowing into making sweet flute-like sounds, her long hair allowed to be free. As she skipped and danced around the burning tree.

I was fearful and unsure of what I should do.

But she saw me.

She giggled seeing me there and encouraging me closer.

I nervously moved closer unsure if I really should but she took my hand and tugged me closer so barely an inch was between us

“Uhhhh hi” I smiled

“Hi” she giggled holding my shirt and pulling me to kiss her I happily kissed her back cradling her waist softly as we kissed

“Whoa- uhh hi.”

“Hi”

“Uhh I’m Thomas.”

“Y/n, shall we?”

“Ohh uhh yeah sure”

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Note

Thunderstorms prompt for summer stories!! Any characters you like!

My dearest Razzy, of course...

So...this is another prequel for my main event story for THAUC...@dimdiamond if you want to maybe read this lol

Special thanks to @aeonianarchives for the encouragement and the pairing brainstorming ❤️

Words: 1,5k

Warnings: Storm, slight angst...

Characters: Thorin & Dís (implied past Thorin x Thranduil), Thranduil x Bard

Thorin rubbed a cold hand absent-mindedly over his stiff lips as the angry howling of the wind outside his window rose in a deafening crescendo.

The consistent summer rains – a regular occurrence out here – having overshadowed the last days had escalated into a full-blown thunderstorm, battering against the sturdy glass panes with a thousand furious hands that exploded upon impact with the unyielding shield.

Cheery laughter and desperate exhortations to save the game in progress drifted down the stairs and into his study like ghosts; he welcomed the distraction and smiled to himself.

The boys were evidently having fun, despite dreading that the power might be cut off and that their precious progress in whatever nonsensical game they were engrossed in these days might be lost, and it lightened his morose mood a tad.

It had been a night much like this one, he remembered, when he had stood facing a man he had never expected to lose.

“You have to make up your mind! Right in this moment, Thorin, or I’m going to walk!”

Even now, Thorin could remember the strangled quality of that melodic voice and the reflection of a flash of lightning illuminating those eerily pale eyes, awash with either tears or rain with perfect clarity; oh, how he had loved that creature, even in that very moment, his almost colourless hair plastered against the shapely skull like a helmet of finest silver and white gold, and yet, he had merely shrugged.

“I cannot wait for you anymore. I’m worth more than casual meetings in the rain.”

As he closed his eyes and let the roaring of the wind, ruthlessly whipping sheets of water into a frantic dance, take him back in time, Thorin could envision him standing there again – Thranduil the flawless – soaked to the bone and snarling with barely contained frustration.

He had been right. Thorin knew that and being keenly aware of how shamefully he had deserted the one he had sworn to cherish prevented this wound from ever really scabbing over.

“I should get home,” he had said tonelessly, feeling his words being torn from his very lips and carried away by the icy fingers of the storm, “the children will be nervous in this weather. Dís needs me.”

“So be it then,” Thranduil had replied, every promise of violence and spark of tenderness drowned in the relentless downpour, “you have chosen.”

Thorin had never really felt as if he had been given much choice – neither at that moment when his furtive lover turned his back on him for good nor now – when it came to how he lived his life.

Duty and honour had ever taken precedence over selfish needs and desultory desires; nothing had changed since that night, and it probably never would.

“They are going to drive me insane,” Dís groaned as she entered his study, two tumblers of whiskey and a plate of cold meats and cheese in her hands, “they’ve eaten four pizzas already and another three are in the oven.”

Thorin’s head snapped up as he emerged fitfully from the whirl of memories the falling rain had submerged him in until he could barely breathe.

His sister, of course, remembered that night as well and she saw the echoes of an old hurt flicker in Thorin’s eyes as the sky was cleft by a flash of lightning.

“You could still reach out,” she said softly, setting down one of the glasses beside his right hand and stroking his hair tenderly.

“It’s too late for that,” Thorin smiled wistfully as he looked up at those features that were so similar to his own, “this love was dead before the pavement was dry. The deluge came and washed it all away.”

He took a tentative sip.

“I don’t hurt about it often,” he then mused in a hollow voice, “he’s moved on after I’ve chosen you and the boys, and I truly hope he’s happy. As I said, I don’t think about it…except when it’s raining hard.”

Dís nodded – they all had their heartaches and silent regrets bound to heavy clouds and sunny days – and took a swig of her own drink; she sometimes wished that her brother had prioritised his own happiness, but she was also not naïve enough to ignore the fact that she and her sons would never have made it to the point they were at nowadays without Thorin’s indefatigable support and love.

“Why don’t you go up and watch them play a little?” Dís asked carefully, “They’d be glad to see your face – despite what they say, they still get skittish when the storm is at its worst – and there shall soon be pizza.”

“Which pizza?” Thorin seemed to perk up as he considered sitting in the boys’ room – a sanctuary he had built with his own two hands and in which he was still always a welcome even if rare visitor – and listening to them bully poor Ori into committing a fatal mistake in the game.

“Go up and bide your time, Thorin,” Dís chided with the severe and slightly impatient tone only mothers ever perfected, “and tell them to bring their laundry down.”

As Thorin stomped up the narrow stairs – already hearing the three youngsters screech and hoot – a smile crept onto his face; yes, he hoped that Thranduil was happy now because – for Thorin – there had never been an alternative to this: his sister, his nephews, and their friends.

It had been worth it, he told himself stubbornly, and it still was.

The beaming smiles that faltered as soon as the boys realised that he was not indeed Dís holding pizza made him chuckle out loud; this was where he belonged and that would have to suffice, even on rainy nights when his soul was aching for another kind of love that he, theoretically, had given up on a long time ago.

Thranduil was not happy.

His hands were white-knuckled and cold – gripping the iron railing of the small balcony overlooking the mooring area mercilessly – and his hair was whipped across his face by the shrieking winds.

He barely heeded the rain falling like ephemeral needles onto his bare arms as he screwed his eyes almost shut in hopes to make out that single boat finally coming home on the horizon; the weather had turned so quickly and Bard had been caught in the storm unexpectedly.

Thranduil was worried beyond what was reasonable; Bard was an accomplished professional and – no doubt – had seen worse storms than this before.

Of course, there was no way of getting through to him on the phone and so – like millions of wives of fishers and sailors since the beginning of time – Thranduil stood there like a statue and waited patiently while looking out fixedly on the wind-tossed waters.

He, as well, remembered that long ago night of tempest when his heart had been torn apart by Thorin’s refusal to take a risk like the night sky was cut by the white-hot blade of lightning; ever since that incident, thunderstorms held a bitter-sweet taste of loss for him.

Fear was creeping up his spine like ice-cold vines and he shook his head impatiently to dispel the urge to curl up on the slippery ceramic tiles and crumble under the weight of painful memories and unsurmountable dread.

It was a ridiculous notion, and he would have laughed at it being worded thus, but Thranduil was afraid of violent tempests; oh, it was not the darkness, the surprising flashes of blinding light, or even the eery voices roaring their displeasure in ever thunderclap, no, it was the ghosts that crept in through the pervasive shadow.

Memories – sweet and bitter alike – were dissolved in the looming clouds overhead and poured down his neck and into his heart like fragrant acid until his skin was crawling with that dull ache of reminiscence.

Bard would come back, he reminded himself, unlike Thorin, this sweet, reliable, tender sea captain would return to him – unharmed and smiling – at the end of the day.

And yet…

The ambient chaos seemed to whisper of abandonment and loneliness and the rain streaming down his stubborn, stony expression tasted of salt and regret.

Thranduil shivered, finally letting go of the railing to hug himself, veiled in the relentless cascade of water and shrouded in darkness streaked with pure light.

At long last – after what felt like endless hours – a small vessel pushed through the black-on-grey background and, not bothering to put on a coat or shoes, Thranduil hurried out and onto the mooring deck, slithering and slipping as his bare feet slapped against the slick wood.

“My sweetling,” Bard exclaimed, pulling off his sealskin coat and wrapping it around Thranduil’s trembling form, “what are you doing out here?”

“I…” The other’s teeth clacked so violently with shudders running through him like pulses of pure electricity that he could barely speak, “I was worried about you.”

“It’s less bad out there,” Bard immediately assuaged the wild, feral fear in those beautiful, pale eyes he so loved, “let’s get you inside! I’ll make you a hot chocolate and we can talk about it. I’m here, we’re both fine, let’s go!”

As he was led back into the house, Thranduil smiled weakly; sometimes, he thought dazedly, the storm gave back what it had taken against all odds and despite his bleak despair.

So, that was another small sneak peek on the upcoming event story :D

As promised, some Barduil as well...

I hope you liked this <3

Lots of love

#fotfics #fotfics summer stories #thunderstorm #razzy's prompt #Barduil #Bard #Thranduil #Thorin & Dís #sneak peek on event fic

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