#I mean I hardly remember anything we did but I still miss you. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatgirlwithasquid · 2 days

Text

letters that i can never send

words: 25,571

beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.

so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3

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Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies

words: 5,739

June 20th, 1986

Dear Chrissy,

I wish I had known you before everything went mad.

I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each other’s direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.

My mom took me out to the mall the other day—there’s a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. It’s full of people and stores and it's loud. I didn’t like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. There’s too many people talking and smiling and I can’t see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.

They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if that’s what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.

I miss you.

Tina.

—

The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, it’s the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.

Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dad’s leg bounces up and down. She’s not sure if he’s aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.

Tina doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesn’t matter that, rationally, Tina knows her mother’s injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.

She’s never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her mom’s arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she can’t even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction weren’t even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.

Thankfully, it’s not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, they’re more than ready to see how she’s doing.

With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her mother’s side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets.

IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesn’t even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her mom’s weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.

The nurse goes over her mom’s condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a word—the moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.

Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tina’s dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.

“Tina,” her mom sighs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to look so worried.”

Tina shakes her head.

“I was so scared,” she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, baby,” her mom says, voice softening. “It’s going to be okay now, okay? Why don’t you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.”

Tina can’t help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. “I look exhausted?”

“Well,” her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. “I’m already laying down and getting rest. I’m more worried about you.”

Guilt stabs Tina’s heart like a blade. Her mom’s the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tina’s the one acting like the world’s weighing down on her shoulders. It’s shameful in its own way.

Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parents’ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everything—every annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing out…

And here she is now. Comforting Tina like she’s a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.

Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesn’t leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her mom’s eye. She nods back at him.

“Why don’t you see about finding some dinner for us two? I won’t be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.”

What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? She’s obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s sure she’ll be visiting her mom as often as she can until she’s discharged.

So, it’s fine. All this is fine.

When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she can’t make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her father’s face pinches into a concerned frown.

Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her.

Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.

By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.

—

School doesn’t reopen until a week later—a week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girl’s bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little space—seemingly so much smaller than her own room was.

She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone else’s bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.

There’s nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed it’s not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dad’s work friend—Mr. Daniels—took them in, but that doesn’t stop her longing for what she’s lost.

Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shifted…

All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends she’s not sure she’ll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tina’s life.

So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didn’t sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that there’s only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.

Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he can’t seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesn’t know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, she’s surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasn’t enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isn’t going to help them learn at all.

She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. He’d been a nice enough teacher. She’s sure he’s still nice enough, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. She’s not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?

Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasn’t understood a word of. She can’t help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.

She doesn’t know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.

Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least that’s the plan.

Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.

“Jason,” someone whispers.

“Carol,” says another.

“Nicole—”

The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as it’s shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.

Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesn’t want to deal with this today. They’ve only been back at school for a day.

She isn’t ready for this yet. It doesn’t feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school and—

“Tina!”

Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. It’s Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, she’d been so trapped in her own mind.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asks.

It’s just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.

“I—” Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. “I asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.”

She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?

“I don’t know. With my mom in the hospital everything’s changed. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesn’t know how to play at being normal, doesn’t mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. It’s not like she has many friends left after everything, either.

Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesn’t. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vicki’s eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.

“Bathroom,” Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.

“Tina…” Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.

The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her mom’s been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. She’ll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.

The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. She’s probably smudged her makeup now, and it didn’t even help at all.

With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But that’s not all she sees.

A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eye—something hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to see—

Nothing.

Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.

It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?

—

Tina’s pen taps restlessly against the Daniels’ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.

Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, it’s empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.

She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.

Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tina’s parents aren’t here. It’s just her, alone with her anxious mind.

She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesn’t matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still can’t help but feel sick with worry.

And she’s so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just can’t take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. It— She’s just tired…

She can’t sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And what’s more, her mind hasn’t been able to stray far from the thought of what she saw—or what she thinks she saw—in that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.

She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin… Now, every sound—every creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noise��leaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if she’s being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.

She should know better than this, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.

With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. It’s like she can’t escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she can’t when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.

Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.

Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her.

The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. It’s hard to remember that she doesn’t need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.

She wishes she believed that.

Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she can’t recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isn’t doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? It’s like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilot—to keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.

She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where she’s ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.

It’s not something she’s that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, it’s only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.

Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they don’t know what they mean. Like they don’t know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she can’t quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.

Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munson’s trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.

It’s like time has stopped.

Tina doesn’t realise she’s stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.

Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.

—

Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the school’s gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.

She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.

At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.

When they’re finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.

Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.

“You want to tag along with me? I’m heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so we’re going to meet up and let off some steam.”

“Samantha Stone?” Tina clarifies. “Since when do you hang around with Samantha?”

Vicki scoffs. “Since almost everyone else is gone.”

Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasé statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.

“Anyway, we all have people’s memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?”

Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, it’s not like she’s got any better ideas.

The crowd that gathers at the edge of the school’s field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesn’t have the energy to entertain.

Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what she’s doing as listening.

Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldn’t be there with them.

Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her minds’ eye.

At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tina’s side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when she’s really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.

There’s another kid who could probably benefit from the same. He’s pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.

“Didn’t get lost taking a piss then?” his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.

“I think I just saw a ghost,” he says in a daze.

Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.

The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.

“Shit,” she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.

Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, she’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she didn’t actually vomit.

Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.

It’s a girl. It’s too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.

This could be it. This could be that same hallucination.

Tina should just go—whether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tina’s business. Hell, she’s had to step away for private moments herself and it’s not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then… Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.

Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesn’t react at all, as if she can’t even hear her.

The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood… She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.

She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isn’t actually in her hands. She’s covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina can’t quite make out without getting closer.

Tina’s mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.

“Chrissy?” she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.

Chrissy’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if she’s preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.

Tearful, blue eyes take in Tina’s face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesn’t relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.

Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tina’s sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal… trapped between this world and the next.

“Are… Are you real?” Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.

The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it.

Shouldn’t she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts aren’t real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?

“Am I real?” she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re the dead girl here.”

“What?” Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.

“You’re dead,” Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?

Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.

“No. N-no. I’m not, I can’t be. What are you talking about?”

“You died. In the Munsons’ trailer.”

“You’re lying. I’m right here—I can’t be—” Chrissy’s voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. “This isn’t funny. What kind of joke is that? I just—I need to get home.”

Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.

“I went to your funeral. You’re dead. And I must be going crazy…”

The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. It’s a fact she’s resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People don’t just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they can’t be dead if they’re not mad.

Chrissy’s expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.

“You’re lying,” she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesn’t want it to be true.

Or Tina’s mind thinks Chrissy shouldn’t want it to be true—if Chrissy’s ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isn’t, because that would be preposterous. She’s just had too much to drink, and she’s been feeling paranoid, and it’s not as if she’s been able to rest since all of this began.

She doesn’t know why she’s indulging this in the first place.

Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her.

Damn, she’s been out here for too long. She’s not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.

Right, that decides it, she’s leaving. This—all of this—is something she doesn’t want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while she’s drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, she’s mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.

“Please, don’t go. I’m scared to be alone…”

Tina pauses, her heart pounding.

“I need to get back,” she says; to herself, because there is no one else there.

For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.

“Will you come back?”

Tina’s heart stutters in her chest. This isn’t real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen.

“Tina!”

“Yeah,” Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group.

---

chapter 2

#stsapphicminibang24 #chrissy cunningham #tina stranger things #chrissy x tina #cheerparty #fanfic

15 notes · View notes

sciderman · 9 months

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opinions on the name 𝘎𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘥? Something about the name tickles me. 𝘎𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘥. "𝘫𝘦𝘳-𝘩𝘢𝘶-𝘥”, Very silly, just been giggling about it thought I'd share.

anyone in this thread smoke weed

#sci speaks #the first friend I ever had back in preschool was named gerard. he was from Australia and he was born without hands. he only had thumbs.#and he was my first and best friend. wonder where he’s at now. I think he went back to australia.#missing you gerard.#I mean I hardly remember anything we did but I still miss you.

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bth3cowboi · 6 months

Text

love conjeture, lh44 x reader

masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x mathematician!reader

summary: sometimes algorithms win championships, other times they help find love. (social media au)

mercedesamgf1

liked by yninmath, georgerussell63 and 879.301 others

mercedesamgf1 This year we want to give a special thank-you to Dr. Yn Ln! With the creation of her new algorithm focused on data analysis and her extensive collaboration this season our view in analytics evolved to unimaginable levels. We are forever grateful for her contributions and what they mean for the future of Formula 1. Thanks again Dr. Ln, and good luck with the thesis! 😎💻

tagged yninmath;

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yninmath thank you for the opportunity🫡💙 it was an honor to work alongside this great team

mercedesamgf1 👏💙

user1 omg work girlll!!

user2 just googled her and im going crazy like how do you have 3 phds at 27😭?

user3 graduated super early too shes kind of a genius lol

lewishamilton thank you miss yn💙

yninmath your welcome sir champion🥹

user4 ok this is cuteee

user5 you should be thanking him bffr

georgerussell63 Outstanding!🙌 Make sure to come back Dr. Yn

yninmath oh but the travelling😮‍💨

lewishamilton nah you’ll make it back

yninmath if you say so haha

yninmath

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yninmath currently picking up trash couches, writing thesis and remembering the friends ive made along the way 🤓💘

on a serious note, if anyone is interested in reading about topology feel free to read my new paper abt it (link in bio #influencer)

tagged bestfriend, roscoelovescoco;

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roscoelovescoco working’s hard🐾😵‍💫

yninmath or hardly working🤔

bestfriend surprised the couch didnt bring rats or something

yninmath no rats or fleas!!! its been a great couch #trashcouch #luckygirls

bestfriend please never use # again

user1 great paper dr yn😍 is there any way I could get your paper on the hodge conjeture for academical porpouses? magazines are too expensive, help a girl out🙏

yninmath dm me girl that should be free so make sure your class gets it too

user2 dr yn youre saving the nyu maths class of 25’🫡

lewishamilton no rest on break miss yn?

yninmath you know me already haha💞

user3 suspicious…

user4 what? they cant be just friends?

user5 I thought she worked for merecedes, what is this?

user6 she was only there to develop part of her thesis tho still won them another championship

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f1paddockgossip

liked by pierregasly and 903.443 others

f1paddockgossip BREAKING! Lewis Hamilton was caught while vacationing in France with mathematician and Mercedes’ collaborator Dr. Yn Ln. The pair are rumored to be in a months-long relationship already, starting in the middle of last season.

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user1 NOOOOO

user2 isnt she like way younger than him? weird

user3 shes literally a grown woman lol she can be with whoever she pleases

user4 no cause they actually look really cute🥹 so happy for them

user5 right! she seems super nice

user6 i just know that man is confused everytime she talks numbers lmao the curse of dating a stem girlie

lewishamilton

liked by yninmath, f1 and 3.478.139 others

lewishamilton congrats on the finished thesis miss yn😉💙 love you

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yninmath love u and ty for the championship😘 would have failed otherwise

lewishamilton 😂😂

lewishamilton anything for my girl

yninmath 🥹

yninmath

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

yninmath you best believe he sat on the #trashcouch #dearlordwhenigettoheaven

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bestfriend did it have fleas lewishamilton?

lewishamilton no but I was worried

yninmath booo tomatoes

bestfriend just buy a new one please

yninmath i believe in sustentability🫡🍃

lewishamilton there has to be a limit

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yninmath love you sm

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——

a/n: ty for reading and i hope you enjoyed🩷 maybe ill be writing more for different drivers soon, so if anyone is interesed keep that in mind!

#f1 #lewis hamilton #lh44 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader

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cloudwhisper23 · 4 months

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I'm too lazy to format, so if you want proper formatting on this, I've posted it on Ao3! This is a continuation from the last art trade I did with @pixlokita about their Werebunny Jeremy AU (we've decided to call it Cut Right Through Me)

Below the cut is the link to the story on Ao3, and the full part that I just completed! Fair warning, this is a pretty decent length, roughly 9k words. Enjoy!

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

“I don’t care. He’s dangerous, Jeremy.”

“Dangerous, yet you apparently have been calling him,” Jeremy muttered, slouching in the chair.

“To find you! Speaking of, where were you this week?”

“Around.”

“Not home.” Ramona shot him a glare as she backed out of the driveway. “Which by the way, I went to your house. It’s an absolute mess. And you know how to get bloodstains out of things-“

“I was going to get to it.” Don’t mention Percy, please don’t remind me. Jeremy wished he was back in Michael’s house, still being interrogated for being there. It was much better than the absolute grilling he was getting from his sister.

“You’re lucky I helped clean up,” Ramona sniffed. “And you owe me for Percy’s vet bills, by the way. I know you’re a disaster on a regular basis, but whatever crisis you had will not get you out of your responsibilities mister.”

“Vet bills?” Jeremy echoed, flinching slightly when she mentioned Percy.

“Yeah, I had to take Percy to the vet. Some animal must’ve broken into your house after you ran off or something because he was hiding in your room scared out of his wits and covered in dried blood. He’ll be fine, but honestly. What could’ve been so important that you ran off and left Percy to fend for himself?”

“I didn’t know Percy survived,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Well, you should’ve checked,” Ramona replied grimly. “He’s only still alive because I went to find you.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy pulled his shirt up over his head to bury the way his eyes were swimming. Everything was just too much for him right now. “Can you just- Can we go back to your house? I don’t think I can go home right now.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Ramona answered gently. “I’m sorry to yell at you, Jer. I really am. I was just worried.”

“I know…” Jeremy rubbed his face into the soft fabric of the shirt. He wished he could’ve had a chance to apologize or make some kind of effort to befriend Michael before they’d abruptly left. “If it helps, I hardly remember anything from the last few days.”

“I noticed.” Ramona’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Hey, maybe we could go visit Becky for a bit. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I’m guessing you haven’t seen her lately either.”

“I can’t,” Jeremy said softly. He didn’t know when he’d transform again, and he couldn’t bear to have it happen around his family, not when he knew that Becky would dig straight for the cause of it, probably making him have to go through it longer than he wanted anyway. He wanted to have something for his friend to work with when he shared the problem.

Or maybe he wanted to handle something himself for once.

“Jer, are you sure? Not to push you or anything, but I’m probably going to head there at the end of the week. I was already planning the trip before you vanished, and now that you’re back-“

“I wouldn’t want to stop you from going,” Jeremy interrupted firmly. “I need to finish up some loose ends around here before I’d go. But if you could take Percy with you, I’d appreciate it.”

Maybe it would be best to just disappear. To be hunted and killed like the monster he was while Ramona was out of town. While she was safe.

“If you’re sure,” Ramona said, sounding hesitant still. “I’ll take Percy with me. I’m sure Becky misses him as much as he probably misses her.”

“Well, he is the son of her old dog. I’d be surprised if she didn’t miss him,” Jeremy answered, finally peeking out of his shirt.

“You’re such a big baby sometimes, Jeremy,” Ramona said softly, shaking his shoulder. “We’ll get you sorted out. Maybe find you a man to help you relieve your stress. You certainly need that-“

“Stop, stop. We’re not having this conversation-“

“If you just tried to have a relationship-“

“I thought you were all about not having a man to rely on for everything,” Jeremy countered.

“Well, I have different biases.”

“You only agreed because Becky said it first,” Jeremy accused, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, no assaulting the driver. Besides, I never said you have to rely on him for everything. Just… some things.”

“I’m less shallow than you,” Jeremy replied, huffing as he returned his gaze to the window.

“Oh, I doubt that. I saw the way you were eying up Michael. You wanted him,” Ramona teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m allowed to think a guy is hot, Mona! And he’s-“

“Just your type. Except I don’t think his personality is right for you. He’s too bitter, too grouchy. Not good enough for my little ball of sunshine.”

“I have four inches on you,” Jeremy argued.

“Not where it counts,” Ramona hummed in reply. “But seriously. I’m going to emphasize this, so pay attention. Don’t you dare go pining after Michael Afton.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you already burned that bridge too badly to rebuild.”

“Good. But if there’s still a silver of doubt in your mind, I’m going to update you on everything once we get home. That man has a bloody history.”

“So you’re calling him some kind of monster?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on, he called you right away when he found me, didn’t he?”

“How do we know it was right away? Maybe he drugs people for kicks and-“

“Just because I don’t remember the last few days does not mean I don’t remember last night. And nothing happened! We didn’t have sex, I promise you.”

“Mhm,” Ramona sounded unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m never going to get you to believe me on any of this stuff, am I?” Jeremy groaned hiding his face as it burned. He shouldn’t be thinking of Michael in that context, especially now. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy went to take a nap when he got to his sister’s apartment, crashing immediately on the couch. He needed to fix his sleep for work later that night anyway.

Ramona dragged him away from his nap to give him a bunch of information about the background of Fazbear Entertainment, and the whole reason she was suspicious of Michael. Clearly, she wasn’t done with their earlier conversation. She really doesn’t believe that I’ll leave it alone, Jeremy thought to himself as she dropped a bunch of newspaper clippings into his lap.

“He killed his little brother, Jeremy.”

“Allegedly.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed the newspaper.

“And his father killed a bunch of kids back in 1985. At the same location you’ve been working at.”

“They never proved that,” Jeremy argued. He shoved the paper away, avoiding looking at the image of Evan Afton. The kid gave him an uneasy feeling.

“You can’t deny the evidence. Just because they weren’t convicted of murder doesn’t mean they didn’t kill anyone.”

That’s exactly what that’s supposed to mean, actually. Jeremy’s mouth thinned. He gave the newspapers back to his sister. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

“Jeremy-“

“Can I please just take a nap in peace?” Jeremy begged. “I don’t need this extra stuff.”

Jeremy was glad to be able to get away again later that day. He knew his sleep was skewed, and he’d probably be exhausted for work, but he didn’t care. That was one thing he could rely on to be consistent. They’d be fine so long as he clocked in on time and clocked out. And if the animatronics caught him off guard, so be it.

He’d missed enough shifts already, and even without his uniform, he’d be fine going into work. Who was going to see him anyway?

He clocked in early, fiddling with his flashlight as he started his patrol. It was considered dumb to do things like this, he knew, but he hadn’t had any issues with walking around during his shift yet. And even if he did, he doubted the animatronics could do much to him anyway, now that he remembered the incident with Toy Bonnie.

The only real question was whether or not that golden bear would come back to kick him out again, but since Jeremy had never seen the bear before that time, he guessed it was a very rare occurrence thing that only happened if an animatronic was hurt or damaged. Then why wouldn’t it be protecting Mangle?

Shaking the weird thought out of his head, Jeremy stepped into Parts and Service, hoping he’d see the glint of his keys somewhere on the floor. Fritz usually forgot to lock up, and Jeremy had taken up the habit of locking up behind him. Since he’d lost his keys the last time he’d been in for a shift, he figured they’d be around somewhere.

He found himself out of luck. Sighing, Jeremy checked that all the old animatronics were still on the floor. Bonnie was still around, and with a twinge of guilt, Jeremy spotted Toy Bonnie’s mangled remains tucked between Bonnie’s torso and his arm. Best not to think too hard about that, Jeremy told himself, turning the beam to the rest of the room.

The faintest rustling noise had Jeremy immediately back on his guard. He turned to see a locker door falling open, revealing a golden suit. His grip on his flashlight tightened as he stared at the golden rabbit costume. It didn’t seem to move much more.

Maybe it was something they used during the day shifts? They were short a Bonnie after all. Still, a golden variation seemed odd as it was on the complete opposite end of the color spectrum from the other two Bonnie models Jeremy had seen.

He was almost tempted to look closer it at, but he knew better than to mess with the animatronics. Especially after his run-in with Toy Bonnie. He did not want to stir up the crazy bear thing again, no thank you.

Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back toward the door. Then he hesitated. The red light on the security camera was blinking at him. Who was in the security office?

Deciding to forget the rest of his early patrol for now, Jeremy made his way back to the office to see a very grumpy Michael shining a flashlight down the hall at him, a small boy also looking at him from a perch on top of the desk.

“Uh… hi?” That’s not Scott, Jeremy’s mind supplied. The realization hit him a moment later as he recognized the boy from Ramona’s newspaper clippings. Evan Afton.

His eyes seemed almost hypnotizing as he glared at Jeremy. “Huh. So you did survive then. Fancy that.”

“I… thanks?” Jeremy finished making his way into the office, weary of the kid on the desk. “Do I know you?”

Evan snorted. “Don’t be stupid. No.”

“Oh. Okay?”

Michael made an impatient noise. “Jeremy, don’t just stand in the doorway like a lost animatronic. Sit down if you’re going to bother me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jeremy hurriedly went to sit down in the rusty folding chair next to Michael. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. That chair has just been here every shift I’ve worked,” Michael answered, checking through the cameras. “I can’t believe you’re insane enough to do that though.”

“Do what?”

“Go into Parts and Service. Cassidy doesn’t like it when people come in there,” Evan supplied. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there at night.”

“It’s part of my patrol,” Jeremy said defensively.

“You’re insane for doing a patrol in the first place!” Michael exclaimed. “I thought you’d broken in or something, and I was going to handle it, but Evan said that’s Cassidy’s job. Which, you had to be testing her patience with how long you stuck around in there.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“You should be.” Evan assessed him as Michael went back to focusing on the cameras. “I thought the rabbit thing killed you, you know.”

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable as the ghost boy studied him. He made Jeremy exceedingly uneasy, and he couldn’t describe why.

A helpful thought decided to interject for a moment, thankfully making him feel a little bit safer. Michael couldn’t have killed his brother. Otherwise, why would they be working together like this?

“Yeah.” Evan tossed a crumpled hat into Jeremy’s lap. “This is yours, right?”

Startled, Jeremy scrambled to catch it, seeing the black stains spotting the rim and front of his hat. Because it was his hat, the one he’d been wearing the last time he transformed. Battered and covered in black oil and whatever that other fluid was, his hat was mostly still intact.

“Where did you get this?” Jeremy asked, smoothing it out to shove it back over his head.

Amused, Evan let out another scoff. “Do you even have a brain? I lost half mine, and I can still connect the dots.”

“His sister is much quicker than he is, that’s for sure,” Michael replied before Jeremy could sputter out a reply.

“You guys are mean.” Jeremy crossed his arms with a pout.

“If you’re going to be here, you can check the hallway and the left vent.” Michael tapped his flashlight, ignoring his words.

“Right, yeah okay.” Jeremy shone the beam of his flashlight down the hallway. “So, what? You’ve just been in the pizzeria the entire time?”

“Yeeep,” Evan answered, leaning across the desk to change the camera and wind the music box. “Most don’t usually live to see the sunrise after they’ve seen me though.”

“Lucky them,” Michael muttered, pulling the camera monitor out of his brother’s reach. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a big grouch,” Evan retorted. He peered into the left vent. “Eugh, that stupid balloon kid is here. Scram!” His shout made whatever was in the vent squeal and scramble away.

Jeremy blinked. “So the animatronics are just scared of you?”

“Not all of them.” Evan answered with a meaningful look at the camera. “Just the insignificant ones.”

“Which translates to, all of them except the Puppet,” Michael added.

“I don’t scare Cassidy.”

“Cassidy’s not an animatronic, Evan.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Evan sighed. “She hates me.”

“I still doubt that.” Michael clicked to the Parts and Service camera, frowning. “You didn’t touch anything while you were back there, did you?”

“Not a thing. I was hoping to find my keys, but-“ Jeremy yelped as Evan tossed a set of keys at him. His flashlight crashed to the ground as he scrambled to catch them before they hit him. “Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” Evan peered at the camera his brother was looking at. “You’re sure you didn’t touch anything?”

“I didn’t!” Jeremy protested, even as both brothers looked at him suspiciously. “I was tempted to touch the yellow rabbit guy when he fell out of that locker, but I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yellow rabbit?” Evan’s eyebrows scrunched. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael seemed worried too, his own mouth tightening into a thin line.

“What’s the deal with the… yellow rabbit?” Jeremy ventured to ask.

“Don’t worry about it I’m guessing you must not have seen him the night he was in here. Were you attacked by Toy Bonnie or something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy chuckled nervously, his spine prickling as he realized that they were probably talking about him. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any yellow rabbits before today.”

“Weird. Evan said he and Cassidy scared it off the last time.” Michael frowned deeper. “It crammed itself into a locker?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But it was in a locker. I thought it was an animatronic though.”

“It is,” Michael supplied stiffly. “But it’s harmless. It shouldn’t be able to move at all.

“…” Jeremy opened his mouth to ask another question, but he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Evan’s got it handled,” Michael replied sharply. “Just keep checking the vents.”

“Right, got it.” Jeremy retrieved his flashlight. “You seem to have a bad experience with it.”

“I guess you could say that,” Michael answered shortly. “And you really never saw it when Toy Bonnie attacked you?”

“Uh, nope. I remember working on my shift and then waking up naked in your house. That’s… about it…” Jeremy lied awkwardly.

“Hmm…” Michael didn’t seem too sure about that, but he let it go. “So you didn’t see the giant golden bunny in my house either?”

“Nope!” Jeremy scratched his neck nervously. “Do you think it was the same one Evan was worried about?”

“Can’t be,” Michael replied. “The one I saw was a literal rabbit. This one is animatronic. There’s no way those two are the same thing.”

“I suppose not.” Jeremy shrugged, regretting holding up this conversation. “You seem… less grouchy than earlier.”

Michael turned to Jeremy wearily. “I had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I just… I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior this morning.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “And um. I was wondering if, like, there was a way to sort things out?”

“Oh, you mean about borrowing my clothes? Don’t even sweat it, I don’t need them back.” Michael returned his focus to his work.

“I know Ramona can be awful sometimes-“

“I don’t care about that, Jeremy.” Michael finally gave him proper eye contact, shooting a jolt up Jeremy’s spine. Damn, that was hot. “I don’t care that your sister thinks I’m a killer, or that she thinks my father is also a killer. I couldn’t care less, because she’s right.”

“Oh.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, surprised. “Who did you…?”

“Evan. My baby brother.” Michael turned away again, his voice leaving no room to continue the conversation. Jeremy struggled to find a way to resume it, but he couldn’t.

It was all too comforting when Evan reappeared to confirm that Jeremy hadn’t touched the suit.

“Cassidy can’t figure out why it would have moved,” Evan said, peering at the camera suspiciously. “Music box.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Michael grumbled, but he wound the music box.

“Hey, so how did you die?” Jeremy asked, even though he knew the answer.

Evan raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “That’s such a brash question to ask a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, but depending on how long you’ve been dead, technically you aren’t nine anymore.”

“Leave him alone,” Michael growled.

“You don’t need to coddle me, Mikey.” Evan rolled his eyes. “What year is it?”

“1987,” Jeremy supplied, pretending to be less afraid of the way Michael was glaring at him. He checked the hallway with his vent to try to divert attention. “It is November.”

“So I’ve been dead for like four years then. My dad killed me.”

“He did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Michael, who scowled.

“He’s lying to you. I was the one who killed him.”

“The accident was an accident,” Evan argued. “You’re not a murderer, Mike.”

“I’m close enough to one,” he shot back.

“So wait, why would you say your father killed you?”

“Because he did.” Evan crossed his legs and peered at Jeremy. “I see why the others like you so much.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re so…” Evan snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word. “Honest. Genuine. Something like that.”

“Candid, maybe?” Jeremy offered.

Michael made an irritated noise as Evan brightened. “That’s the word! Yeah, you’re just so candid and blunt about everything. It’s refreshing. No handholding or coddling.”

“I don’t coddle you more than you try to coddle me,” Michael grumbled.

“Anyway,” Evan shot a pointed look at his brother. “What actually happened was Mikey tried to play a prank on me regarding Fredbear. One of the animatronics of the original diner.” When Jeremy looked confused, Evan elaborated. “The first place wasn’t Freddy’s. Our father and Uncle Henry opened the business as Fredbear’s Family Diner. There were two original animatronics. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “I stuck him in Fredbear’s mouth, and the bloody bear bit down on his head. It was my fault.”

“Your fault I was in the hospital, but not your fault I died,” Evan countered. “Michael was all about apologizing, promising to be a better brother if I just woke up. But when Father came to visit, he told me that this attention-seeking was ridiculous, that I should just open my eyes so the bad press would go away.”

Evan’s tone grew quieter, and even Michael paused, his expression softening. “He said that if I didn’t get up, I didn’t deserve to live. And then I was in the suit, with only Fredbear to keep me company.”

That’s the golden bear then, Jeremy thought. “So, your father is your killer?”

“Not just mine. All the missing kids too.” Evan shrugged. “We’d tear him to pieces if we could find him, but there’s only so many hours ghosts are awake.”

“Presumably only during this shift,” Michael added. “I don’t think Phil ever mentioned the haunted animatronics, and Ramona only mentioned rumors about them.”

Evan and Michael both didn’t seem very inclined to speak much after that. Michael did try to stop him when he went for his next patrol, but he didn’t care too much. The patrol was something he’d always done, and just because he was sharing a shift with someone in the office now didn’t mean he was going to stop doing it. It just gave him a longer time limit.

Maybe at some point he could ask about this mysterious ‘Cassidy’ that Evan kept mentioning. But for now, he checked corners and looked in the camera blind spots, knowing that most didn’t ever bother to check. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica didn’t seem too interested in leaving the stage tonight, which Jeremy was grateful for. The Puppet was sealed away, the music box wound tightly to keep the music playing.

And he remembered Evan’s words about Cassidy preferring to have people stay out of Parts and Service. Instead of entering the room, he just whispered at the door, “I’m trusting you to have everything handled in there Cassidy.”

A cold feeling enveloped him, and he shuddered as he walked away. It was weird to miss Mangle on a shift, but he supposed they wouldn’t come around while Evan was guarding the office. He checked the back door quickly to ensure it was locked and was glad to find that Michael had indeed locked it behind him.

“I wish I could complain about the job you’re doing here, but it seems to be fantastic,” Jeremy said with a sigh as he plopped back into his chair.

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, the constant frown relenting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got the door locked and everything. Better than Fritz does, anyway.”

“Door was already locked when I got here,” Michael said. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Huh. Interesting. Jeremy was curious about Michael’s sense of humor though, so he poked a little more. “Of course, I can’t really give you all the credit, since it seems that Evan and Cassidy are the ones who are actually in charge around here. They just tolerate you.”

Evan snorted at that, covering his mouth as Michael’s expression returned to a scowl. “I don’t know that you can say you’ve been doing much either, Jeremy.”

“I’m not claiming to. But the animatronics like me, according to Evan, so I have a one-up on you.”

Michael shook his head, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The rest of the night passed in somewhat stiff silence.

“See you tomorrow night, I guess. Fitzgerald.” Michael rose, offering a hand for Jeremy to shake.

“Same to you, dude.” Jeremy shook his hand cheerily, trying not to visibly wince as Michael crushed his hand in the shake. “Until next time, Afton-“

As soon as he started to say the last word, Michael shoved him back against the wall, covering his mouth. A thrill ran through Jeremy as pain shot up his back. He couldn’t help a startled whimper as Michael glared at him with icy blue eyes.

“Never call me that. Understand? Never.”

“I… I understand! Yep! Never going to call you that ever again, never ever!” Jeremy chirped back, knowing his enthusiasm was way more than the situation required.

“It’s Schmidt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Then… I’ll see you tonight, Schmidt.”

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket to start chewing it before he walked out of the security office. Evan had disappeared somewhere around 5, so Jeremy remained to tidy up a tiny bit before walking out to his car.

Michael was still on the sidewalk, presumably going to walk home, and Jeremy did not accept that he was just going to be walking in the chilly air in only his work uniform. He drove alongside Michael, rolling down his window. “Need a ride home?”

“No.” Michael kept walking, not even glancing at the car. “I’m used to walking everywhere.”

“You could catch a cold!” Jeremy protested.

“Good thing I’m not the only one on shift then,” he shot back, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Go home, Fitzgerald.”

“Alright fine. But if you get sick, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m so terrified of the threat,” Michael replied sarcastically. “Goodbye.”

Rude, Jeremy thought with mild annoyance. But this was progress from last time! Last time, Michael hadn’t had much to say except “fuck off,” so at least Jeremy got through it this time without that. And he’d also gotten information that Ramona hadn’t had, which meant she was wrong about Michael Afton.

“So ghosts are real?” Ramona pressed as Jeremy hung up the phone after receiving a call from his friend Sebastian.

He was so lucky Seb was willing to give him a discount, so lucky he was willing to do repairs without questioning things. Jeremy had already gotten rid of the couch and burned his old sheets. The last step to making the whole rabbit nightmare a forgotten memory was the torn flooring.

“Yeah. And Evan has a much better sense of humor than his brother.” Jeremy shot his sister a skeptical look. “You’re not surprised by anything else I said?”

“Like what? The kid forgiving his older brother? You said he was like nine?”

Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like she was completely right either. “But-“

“Jer, you’re being dumb about all this. You need to think with your brain at least some of the time.”

“I am using my brain! I was asking all the questions I needed answers to.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still so blatantly defending Michael Afton?”

Because if he’s a monster, then so am I, Jeremy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Forget it.”

“Jeremy-“

“No, it’s not worth arguing about. But Evan gave me back my keys.” Jeremy stood up moodily. “It was nice talking with you, Ramona, but I gotta get some sleep before tonight’s shift.”

“Jer, what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me about it, right?” Ramona pressed.

“I know. I just don’t feel like getting into it right now. That’s all. Have a good day, Mona.”

“You too, Jer.” Ramona hesitated for another moment. “I’m here for you, if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Ramona shot him a worried look as she got through the door, careful to avoid catching her pants on the splintered wood that Sebastian was going to replace.

After his sister left, Jeremy stripped, unsure of what triggered him to turn into the rabbit. He didn’t want to ruin clothes that didn’t belong to him though, so he wasn’t taking chances as he went to rest properly for the first time in ages.

Michael let himself back into his house with a heavy sigh. That shift had been long. He undid his tie, ignoring the impatient meowing at his feet while he changed out of his work clothes. “Give me some time, Logan.”

Logan meowed again, pawing at his empty bowl.

“One second, Logan.” Michael pulled a new shirt over his head before giving the cat a scratch behind his ear. “I’ll get that bowl filled in no time.”

After feeding Logan, Michael was tempted to go out and look for the bunny again. Surely it couldn’t have gone far, right? Even if it had been gone for a day, maybe it was just hungry and hunting. Maybe it had tried to return while Michael was gone and couldn’t get back in. Maybe-

You’re overthinking this. God, you are such a freak Michael. Michael shook his head, walking toward the place where he’d last seen the rabbit. Maybe the dumpster was its home?

His hopefulness diminished as he approached the dumpster. He couldn’t see any sign of it anyway. Shoulders slumping, he prepared to walk back, so he could let Logan have his own walk.

A soft thumb behind him made him hesitate though. Michael turned, excitement growing as he saw the giant shape of the golden rabbit who’d appeared very suddenly. “There you are!” Michael exclaimed, beaming as he reached out for the bunny.

His new friend nuzzled into his hand immediately, rubbing its fluffy face against his hand. “I missed you buddy,” Michael whispered into the overwhelmingly soft fur.

A soft rumble in the bunny’s throat soothed him, making all the irritation and torment from the last day completely vanishing. “You can’t just disappear on me, you know,” Michael said, trying for a scolding tone.

The bunny thumped his back foot as a reply.

“What? Are you going to say you didn’t miss me? Because I think you’d be lying.”

The bunny nosed at his neck. A soft, wet feeling made Michael’s neck prickle in the cold.

“Is that a way of saying you did miss me?” Michael asked, scratching up behind the rabbit’s ear.

He stumbled a bit as the rabbit rocked forward, knocking him off-balance a little bit. The rabbit kept nuzzling him until he was completely knocked to the ground. Startled, he didn’t even attempt to get up before he was completely enveloped in soft, warm, golden fur.

“Hey, hang on a sec-“ Michael tried to protest before the bunny squished its head down over his, keeping him even more safely enveloped in warmth. “I need to let Logan out for a bit! You’re going to make it so a poor little kitty can’t stretch his legs, is that what you want?”

A grumbling noise resonated in the back of the bunny’s throat, but it let Michael get to his feet. “Thank you.”

Michael walked back, knowing that the bunny was going to follow him back this time. He didn’t even need to stress about it. Michael grabbed his mail from the box on his way back into the house, tossing the pile onto his table before shaking the harness to get Logan to come running.

“Time for your walk, you crazy cat,” Michael said, pretending to ignore the rabbit who’d opted to lurk on the front lawn instead of coming in this time. Maybe it likes to be free to roam, he thought to himself.

Logan was happy enough to take his walk, purring as they returned. Shortly after Michael walked through the door and started undoing Logan’s harness, the rabbit wriggled into the house, looming behind Michael.

After he’d shut the door, Michael let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes briefly. Gotta check the mail first, he scolded himself as he yawned again.

Glancing at the top of the stack, Michael felt himself pale. It was another letter from his father, this time marked as urgent. He hadn’t even opened the last one, and now he was getting another? Michael was just grateful his father didn’t know his phone number, but then actual horror struck him. He could just come to my house.

Michael twitched, grabbing the letter so tightly the edges crinkled. With a solid grip, he ripped the envelope and the contents in half. The rabbit flinched, clearly not expecting such a violent action. Logan was unaffected, as usual.

He tossed the torn remains into his trash bin and stalked to his bedroom, trying so hard not to start trembling or crying. The bunny nudged the door open and sniffed at the edge of his bed. Michael patted the side of his bed, giving it permission to jump up. The bunny took the permission easily, pressing comforting warmth into Michael’s back as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Michael sobbed quietly. “It’s bad enough knowing that I did something monstrous, but he does it on purpose. I bet he’s out there doing it to some other poor kids now, and I’m just not strong enough to stand up to him.”

The bunny rumbled out a growl at the blame Michael placed on himself, but it still soothed his pain with soft fur. He rolled over and buried his face properly into the fur, his fingers tangling into the strands. So soft, he thought to himself, tears dampening the fur of the bunny’s chest.

Not that it seemed to mind, pulling Michael closer as he started drifting off to sleep. “I just don’t get it…” Michael trailed off, finally relaxing enough to let go of consciousness.

Jeremy woke up with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Michael. Why am I not surprised? he thought to himself, carefully untangling himself from his sleeping coworker. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.

Unease sank into Jeremy as he realized he was yet again left to try to sneak out without clothing. But at least he was in Michael’s room this time, and he could just grab clothes without getting caught.

His foot hit something soft and warm, and a disgruntled meow made Jeremy realize the cat was also here. Oh shit. Directing a glare at the cat, Jeremy climbed out of the bed without causing the cat or Michael to wake up completely. The black cat nestled back into his paws, purring loudly as Jeremy snuck a new pair of clothing out of Michael’s drawer.

He left quickly, pushing open a window and crawling out of it, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet as he landed on rocks. Jeremy glanced around before hurrying toward his house, memorizing the address as he left the place.

He felt bad for ditching, but he also knew he could not just stay after all that. Not after how upset Michael had seemed the first time. Until he could control when he turned into a rabbit and maybe stay as a rabbit when around Michael, then he wasn’t taking any chances.

Back home, Jeremy slipped socks onto his feet and glanced at the time. He had plenty of time to spare before work, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. I’m not supposed to know where he lives, Jeremy thought glumly.

The phone ringing pulled Jeremy away from spiraling in his obsession. Maybe Ramona was right about all that stuff anyway. “Hello? Jeremy Fitzgerald here.”

“Jeremy! What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice. No offense, but we all thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael told me,” Jeremy chuckled nervously, wondering why Lloyd was calling him.

“Hey, you’re not too opposed to just sharing that shift with him, right? I mean, I know you said you absolutely did not want to have to deal with kids, and I completely understand. Michael had the same qualms about the shift, but this is the only shift where no one is stuck hanging around children. But you’re all good with that? You’re fine sharing the workload? It's probably better anyway, having two people check on the place during those hours. Keeps the place safer- I mean, more secure!” Lloyd blabbed on, talking so fast Jeremy could barely keep up with what he was saying.

“I’m okay with it. Is he?” Jeremy leaned back against the wall, a finger hooked absently into the phone cord. An excuse to spend more time with Michael? No way was he turning that down.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, he actually seemed more than happy to have someone else there. I guess he doesn’t have the same familiarity you have with the job yet. He’s probably a bit jittery about the atmosphere. You know, he’s never had a nighttime security job before, actually.”

“Lloyd, is that all you needed from me, or is there something else?”

“Oh, that’s it. Uh, except one thing. We found a bunch of the torn remains of your uniform. Did you want a new one? I’m guessing that you’ve been using the spare, but you should really have more than one.”

“By that logic, I should have at least three,” Jeremy pointed out. “In case one is misplaced or ruined, or another incident like the other night happens.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Toy Bonnie came after me. I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I don’t need to fill out an incident report or anything do I? I mean, as far as I’m aware, no one got hurt.”

“Nobody was hurt in the incident. We didn’t actually know that until just now actually.” Lloyd laughed nervously. “No, we don’t need anything from you, don’t worry! It just would’ve helped us if you’d remembered something about Toy Bonnie attacking, or maybe Fritz coming in-“

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I can be in in a couple minutes if you have extra uniforms ready.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can totally do that. Yeah, if you come in before 6, I can totally get you set up with some new uniforms.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 5 then.”

“Fantastic!”

Jeremy hung up the phone feeling more awkward than ever before. At least he’d have a uniform again.

When he saw Michael at the next shift, he set out by tipping his hat at the other man. No response. Evan seemed a bit distracted today as well, somewhat of a frown crossing his face.

Jeremy sat down awkwardly in his chair, remembering Lloyd’s words from earlier. If he had to guess, maybe Michael had been relieved to have an excuse to make sure Jeremy wasn’t in any danger after all the personal risks he took at work.

“I’m going to do a patrol,” he announced abruptly, picking up his flashlight.

“Don’t die,” Evan said, peering over Michael’s shoulder.

“Right…” Jeremy looked at Michael hopefully, but the other man gave him no indication that he was going to say anything in reply.

The night was somewhat quiet. It was weird having the toy animatronics remaining onstage every night, and Jeremy almost wished they’d move so he could at least know that Toy Bonnie hadn’t been a fluke. Even Mangle hadn’t sought him out since he’d turned, presumably too afraid of him now to approach.

It made sense, considering how Percy was taking the exact same approach with him, but it still stung to know that his dog and his favorite animatronic no longer seemed to see him as a safe person. Even Evan didn’t trust him in that form, if Jeremy’s memory served correctly.

Nobody saw him as more than a monster aside from Michael. Was that why he was so magnetized to the other man? Physical attributes aside, Michael seemed well-guarded, not trusting other people. But he seemed to have a secret affection for animals. Even with the amount he swore at his cat, he seemed to love the cat enough to care for it when he was not in the mood to care for the poor thing.

Sighing, Jeremy started to head back toward the cold atmosphere of the main office. He stopped upon hearing what sounded like sobbing coming from Parts and Service.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Jeremy asked, hoping for a gentle tone.

“No!” The door flew open, nearly hitting Jeremy in the face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the small girl glowering at him with thick black tear streaks running down her face. “He’s come back, and I can’t stop him!”

“Who came back?” Jeremy asked, crouching down to her level. “Sorry for asking, but I seem to be a bit out of the loop.”

“You take things more seriously than most,” she huffed. Then she blinked at him. “Wait, you’re that security guard guy. We all thought you died!”

“That seems to be the common consensus,” Jeremy sighed. “But who came back? Clearly he’s no one good if you are unhappy about it.”

“No. He killed me, and he’s gonna kill more kids.”

“Oh.” A prickle of fear made Jeremy tremble a bit at that. “When did he come back?”

“Not too long ago. We didn’t notice the changes in his suit, but-“ she glanced at the darkened area for a moment. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist, and he was startled to discover that apparently ghosts could in fact touch people.

“So, originally, he was in that locker there, right?” the girl gestured at the locker Jeremy had originally spotted the animatronic at.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s not anymore. Now he’s on the floor over here,” Cassidy pointed directly at where the golden bunny suit was slumped next to the old Freddy model.

“Oh. And this suit’s not possessed right? Nobody should be moving it?”

“No one should be moving it. Employees can get fired for touching it, much less moving it. And I haven’t seen it move on its own.”

“Ghosts can only do things at this time of night…” Jeremy trailed off thoughtfully. “You think it’s the same guy who killed you?”

“I know it is. I had to ask a bunch of times to get anywhere with Evan. That kid is so tight-lipped, I swear.” The girl shook her head. “But apparently, this suit here can only be activated by a key. One person had that key.”

“Your killer.”

“William Afton,” she confirmed. “At least, that’s what Evan says, but he’s been wrong about so much lately, that I’m just worried he’s wrong about that too.”

“Did you try asking Michael?”

“Evan doesn’t think I should talk to the security guards.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks I’ll just kill you guys. But I’m not that murderous. I still have a brain, unlike some people.”

“So you must be Cassidy?”

“Yep.” Cassidy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to complain because it makes sense that Evan wants to spend time with his brother, but I miss being able to roam the pizzeria freely. Ever since Toy Bonnie got dinged, I’ve been checking in here to make sure Spring Bonnie hasn’t been used. I think we scared him off pretty well though.”

“Spring Bonnie…?”

“The yellow rabbit suit,” Cassidy pointed, rolling her eyes. “Oh! One more thing. I know you’re like, nocturnal or whatever like we are. But you can actually wake up during the day. Could you like, keep an eye out for someone wearing the suit?”

“I mean, I suppose. Did Evan bring that up to Michael?”

“I doubt it. He hates the idea of getting you guys involved.” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Something about trying not to cause more deaths than necessary, but he’s not going to kill an adult out in the open like that. I think it’s fine.”

“Huh. Okay. I mean, I can try…”

“Whatever works.” Cassidy seemed satisfied, finally noticing the red light on in the camera. “Oh! Say cheese!”

“That’s a live feed, Cassidy. It’s not a picture camera.”

“You’re no fun.” Cassidy stuck her tongue out at him. “Bye bye for now. I’ll expect results later.”

“I hope I’ll have results for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy said cheerfully before disappearing.

Resigning himself to the blinking light of the security camera, Jeremy went back to the office. If he hadn’t been sure before, Evan’s scowl told him plenty about what he needed to know.

“What were you thinking?” Evan hissed, his eyes so dark there was absolutely no color aside from the darkest of dark pits.

“Uhh…”

“She could’ve killed you!”

“She dragged me in there!” Jeremy said in protest.

“Did she now? Maybe she’s just lonely because she lost her best friend.” Michael shot a pointed look at his brother.

“Cassidy can’t stand me,” Evan scoffed, but he let up on Jeremy a little bit. “What did she want?”

“Help with her little investigation into Spring Bonnie.” Jeremy dropped into his chair and peered at the camera monitor in Michael’s hands. “Still no animatronic movement, huh? Almost like they were told to stay put.”

He raised an eyebrow at Evan. The kid rolled his eyes, the frown not relenting. “Toys aren’t our thing. We watch over the others.”

“So the toys not moving is also suspicious behavior?” Jeremy asked. “Hey, not to be dumb or anything, but how much did your dad work with the animatronics?”

“He helped create them, so a pretty significant amount,” Michael answered. “Evan, I just think you should make up with her.”

“There’s nothing to make up! She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ll stay out of her space, and she can take care of the others!”

“She said you told her to stay in Parts and Service,” Jeremy said.

“You’re going to believe her over me? Mikey, you can’t believe this, surely!”

“I mean, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never spoken to Cassidy before, and if its your word or Jeremy’s, then I’ll take your word for it. But I do still think you should try to resolve this conflict you have with her-“

“Think what you want then! I don’t care!” Evan’s eyes flashed before he abruptly vanished.

Jeremy sat in stunned silence as Michael just continued checking things. “Well that was…”

“He’s just pouting. We’ve had this argument before, don’t worry.” Michael didn’t glance over at Jeremy as he talked. “So, Cassidy let you off with a warning or something I’m guessing?”

“I already said she dragged me in. She wants me to go in during the day and look out for a guy in a rabbit costume.”

“That could only be one person, you know,” Michael said grimly, sitting back to start giving Jeremy his attention. “My father only made one key for that suit.”

“Cassidy said that. She also seems a bit weary of taking information from Evan since he seems a little…”

“Mixed up?” Michael shrugged. “Yeah, don’t put too much stock in what he says. I don’t think he fully knows where he’s at.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Jeremy wasn’t fully appreciative of that response. “So, you still think your dad killed those kids?”

“Without a doubt. He was always a bit more bitter when he had to deal with them, and if the other kids say it was the golden bunny man, then who am I to say they’re wrong? It makes sense.” Michael shook his head. “I still don’t understand what kind of monster could willingly decide that kids couldn’t get to live their lives though.”

“A kind that’s actually a monster as opposed to someone who thinks of himself as one?” Jeremy offered.

Michael turned his gaze on Jeremy lazily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“Not more than Evan’s assurances. Listen, I made my peace with what I did a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Jeremy laid a reassuring hand on Michael’s arm. “You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you and your dad are even remotely in the same league-“

“Yeah, but a monster is a monster, aren’t they? Killers are monsters, Jeremy. Simple as that.” Michael slipped his hand away and went back to the cameras. “It’s not like it’s possible to always spot a monster on the surface anyway. Maybe you’re just telling yourself I can’t be a monster because I don’t look like one.”

Jeremy stiffened at that. You don’t have to look like a monster to be a monster. Did that mean the opposite was true too? He wanted desperately to know the answer.

Michael tried to give him a smile. “Look, it’s no big deal, really. If you aren’t actively saying I’m following in my father’s footsteps, then I think things are okay, you know? Like, I may not really like you, but I don’t think you’re a complete twat.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that, instead shining his light into the vent to avoid the heat that rose to his face at what he was guessing was meant to be a compliment.

“Anytime.” Michael chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s going for a full night sulk tonight. Guess it’s just us now.”

“Think you’ll be able to handle the office once I go on my next patrol?” Jeremy asked teasingly.

Michael snorted. “With the animatronics the way they are? I’ll be more than fine.”

“Good to know.”

A few nights passed like this, Michael offering minimal conversation during the shift, Jeremy taking his time to do patrols and update Cassidy on what he saw during the days.

It wasn’t much more than he had during the night, but Cassidy seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. And if he showed up to work tired, then that was fine too. Michael would shake his head, and Evan was still pouting about his argument with Cassidy, so he didn’t care.

Still, he felt a little bit bad whenever he realized he’d nodded off, insisting that Michael wake him. And evidently, that was not happening every time it happened. It hadn’t hurt anything so far though, so Jeremy was willing to let it slide.

It had taken him ages, quietly arguing with Evan while Jeremy slumped in his chair, to convince his brother to try and work things out with Cassidy. Evan had been furious that Cassidy was putting Jeremy in harm’s way, but Michael thought he probably knew the risks of what he was getting into.

Why should Cassidy get the blame anyway? She wanted help, not to doom another man to die. And Evan had given plenty of warning, so Jeremy could’ve backed out whenever he wanted to, so it was fine. There was simply no need to keep blaming Cassidy.

Michael spared a glance away from his constant checking to look at the uncomfortable way Jeremy had passed out in his chair, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, hat knocked askew. On impulse, he reached over and fixed Jeremy’s hat, before deciding to move him to the floor.

Jeremy’s head knocked into Michael’s chest, and he felt sure that the man would wake. Jeremy hardly stirred, so Michael continued to lay him down, removing Jeremy’s jacket to tuck it beneath his head like a pillow. There, Michael thought to himself, somewhat satisfied before he went back to flick through the cameras absently.

Unfortunately for Mike, however, he’d missed the sound of an animatronic crawling into the vent, too focused on making sure he didn’t wake up Jeremy to pay much attention to the world around him.

The loud static did eventually catch Michael’s attention, and he set the monitor down, forgetting to wind the music box as he glanced at the phone. It was in its cradle, and belatedly Michael realized that noise meant animatronic, and he turned to check the vent just as Mangle swung down to attack.

Michael yowled in pain as the impact knocked him from his chair and plastic teeth tore through his face. The edge of the desk caught the other side of his face, making his vision blurry as he faintly caught the sound of tearing fabric and an angry growl.

Something warm ran down his face as the animatronic screeched, hiding away from the giant shadow looming over Michael. Struggling to push himself upright, he found himself surrounded by golden fur. Oh. Michael blinked blood out of his eye, struggling to process the scene around him, only slightly frightened now that he knew his rabbit friend had somehow appeared to aid him. I hope it doesn’t step on my coworker. That’d be awkward to explain.

“Mikey!” Evan’s voice echoed in the quiet environment. “Michael?”

The bunny was growling, a low rumble vibrating through its body. Cool hands cupped both sides of Michael’s face as Evan’s face came into view.

“Oh my god,” Evan breathed, smudging the blood stream ever so slightly. “Where did Jeremy go? I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Michael answered slowly, still struggling to focus on his brother’s face. “Your hands are cold.”

“Of course they are.” Evan huffed in exasperation. “Wait, you’re totally in shock. Mikey…”

“The music box…” Michael trailed off as he registered that a completely quiet room was not a good thing.

Evan’s eye widened. “Oh no.”

The sound of aggressive music echoed in the halls as the Puppet made its approach. Not that it was much of a problem, seeing as Michael’s bunny pinned the animatronic to the ground before it could do much.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Evan said hurriedly. “Uh, I need to-“

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” Michael’s eyelids fluttered shut as Evan went away to shout at the bunny who was currently having a very intense stare down with the Puppet.

Jeremy hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep on shift that night. Waking up tangled in bindings made of shimmery thread had not been the most reassuring thing. More startling than that, however, was the pooling blood around Michael’s head as Evan argued with an unfamiliar girl.

Cautiously he untangled himself and dug into the duffel bag he started to bring to every shift, grateful for his planning as the remains of his uniform remained littered across the floor. The bickering children didn’t notice as he slipped his uniform on quickly before pressing his jacket (which for some reason was folded on the floor) to the wound on Michael’s head. Jeremy managed to pull the man close so he could hold the fabric to the wound while still being able to dial for the hospital.

Jeremy didn’t know how Michael had been injured, but based on the teeth marks, he had a sinking feeling Mangle had done something to the poor man. He did look a bit too similar to his father for Jeremy’s liking. That had to be the real reason Michael was so vigilant and why Evan was so paranoid about him missing things in the cameras.

The children stopped arguing to look at him when he was explaining things to the emergency operator, seeming to realize that maybe there were more urgent things to deal with than whatever they’d been arguing about. Jeremy clutched the plastic tightly in one hand as he clutched to Michael’s injury with the other.

Evan was the first to approach Jeremy, looking more disheveled than Jeremy even knew ghosts could be. “You’re the rabbit thing.”

Jeremy nodded awkwardly. He knew they’d discovered him the minute he’d woken up and was tangled in that same shimmery stuff that he’d seen under his skin before he transformed the first time.

“Our conversation isn’t over, Evan,” the girl said, impatiently. “Sure, Mike takes priority, but the fact that you guys tried to lock me away is absolutely insane.”

“How about we skip the interrogation until we know that Michael’s okay,” Jeremy said weakly.

“I guess that’s a good way to put things.” The girl crouched at Michael’s side, brushing bloodied hair out of his face. “Although you and me need a talk at some point, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“I’m long overdue for talks with a bunch of people now,” Jeremy muttered.

Please be okay.

#cloud writes #werebunny au #jeremy fitzgerald #ramona fitzgerald #michael afton #evan afton #cc fnaf #cassidy fnaf #cw violence #cw injury #cut right through me

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artethyst · 6 months

Text

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!OC/Reader

“You know, I am High Lord.” Eris murmured against your exposed neck, “I could so easily decline the invitation-“

“No,” you grinned, moving his wandering hands to cup the ever so slight bump that rested above your womb- one that had turned Eris feral when it had finally made its hardly noticeable appearance days before. “We cannot keep it from them forever.”

“I can do as I please,” he retorted as you sighed, watching him in the large mirror you both were stood in front of.

“So can I.” You smirked. “You made me High Lady, remember? I have just as much power as you.”

“How could I ever forget…” He mumbled with a lazed smirk as you drank in the sight of him- dressed in fine maroon layers laced with gold, his crown perched lazily upon his auburn curls. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his veined hand splayed protectively over your growing babe.

“It is only one evening, I am sure even you can tolerate that,” you mused, straightening your vermillion skirts and joining your much smaller and softer hands over his. “No matter how you feel on the matter, Rhysand will still be their uncle.”

“No need to remind me,” Eris grimaced, his feelings for his brother-in-law still very much apparent after all those years.

The two males coming to some sort of unspoken agreement they would remain civil for the sake of the most treasured female in their lives.

“Is Big Bad Wolf of Autumn afraid of my older brother?” You began to laugh as he nuzzled his head against your collar as one of his hounds might. “Worried he might castrate you for impregnating his little sister?”

It was Eris’ turn to smirk then.

“Bunny, if that is what will bother him, I can assure him I have done far worse.”

You rolled your eyes, a light blush on your cheeks at the insinuation of his words, softening when he spun you around to force you to face him properly.

With his slender hand angling your chin, amber irises burning an impassioned fire through your own, there was nothing that could escape him.

Not even the small pout that had come to rest on your full lips. The ones he had to fight himself not to lose himself in right there and then.

“You know I only jest my Love, I will behave how you ask of me. Anything you desire-“

“I-It is not that,” you breathed, eyes brimming with tears you could only blame on the growing flame in your stomach. “It is just…”

“Tell me,” Eris’ usually composed face flickered with concern, his sharp brows pulling together in worry, his senses ever so more heightened since news of your newfound state broke. “Whatever is wrong I will resolve-“

“I miss my home,” your voice was shaky as you refused to meet your Mate’s eye, unable to bear the hurt that flickered across his face. “I…I miss my family, and…And times like these just remind me that my child will not be raised the same way.”

Eris did not know how to respond.

He would have liked to think he had made you feel comfortable in Autumn- that his home was just as much yours than anyone’s.

That if you ever wanted to leave, you would tell him- not that you ever had to. He never stopped you from visiting, hell, would always accompany you- begrudgingly, whenever you wished for him to

He would never be like that sorry bastard Tamlin and have you locked away.

Were his worst fears finally coming true? Had you realised what he had known all along? That he did not deserve you? That you should have never accepted the bond-

“Are…Are you not happy here?” He could not hide the disappointment in his tone. “If you wish to leave-“

“No, Eris,” your tears began to fall at the sight of him- so vulnerable, thinking that he could never be enough for you. “That is not what I mean I…I never wish to be apart from you again, you…You are my true home.” You felt worse when he began to comfort you, sending waves of love down the bond as he gently thumbed circles into your lower back, his gestures more delicate than ever since your pregnancy.

“Whatever you want, Bunny, I will ensure you have it,” his words were sincere and you couldn’t help but break into small sobs, knowing just how far he would go- the things he would sacrifice for you.

It might have terrified you once, but now you understood why. You understood because you would do the same for him.

“I just…I just wish things were different,” you knew he had been trying, that your brother had too, but tensions were still rife amongst the courts. With loyalist Advisors Eris had yet to wheedle out and men like Keir who respected your husband than his own High Lord, politics were never simple. “O-Our child will not be brought up with same customs, attend school with their cousins-“

“If that is what you wish who is to deny you, High-Lady?” You couldn’t help but laugh through your tears, melting into your husband’s arms as though his muscled chest was the only salvation from the rest of Prythian.

“No I…I-I want them to know of their heritage- this heritage. To be part of their own Court’s customs…Be like their father,” Eris couldn’t help the way his own heart tightened at that, having to remind himself if not by anyone else, you were proud of him. “I just…I just wish we could have both…”

“Who says we cannot, hmmm?” He wiped away your tears, thumb lingering beneath your glittering eye, the ones it had only taken him one look in to be hooked on for the rest of his breathing days. “I shall see to it we spend a quarter of our year in Velaris. We will have a family residence where our children will be able to live freely in such a place that is theirs too to call home.”

You noticed the way he had said children.

Plural.

Despite his anxieties, he subconsciously was hoping for more.

“B-But what about you? Your duties-”

“My Love, why do you think I have delegates? And what else is Lucien useful for if not performing tasks that are below me?” You scoffed at that as he chuckled, tucking a stray curl lovingly behind your ear.

And no matter how unsettled he felt in Night- the stares that would follow him, the distrust certain members of yours- now his by proxy, family still scathingly looked upon him with, he would stomach it.

He would compromise anything- everything to ensure your happiness.

“Is residing in my old apartment no longer good enough for you?” You let out, trying to lighten the mood. Chin coming to rest at his sternum, reminiscing of the times when the only way to see him was to sneak him through the wards of your private quarters.

“My darling, I would buy every property in that wretched place if it would bring back your smile.”

You poked him in the ribs as he groaned.

“You just wish to show off your riches and have us live in a grander estate than my brother’s…On his own land.”

“You know me too well, My Love.”

And so that night, when you broke the news, with happy tears from Feyre and Cassian, drunken squeals from Mor (who had already known) and crushing embraces from Azriel and even Nesta, Rhysand did not have the heart to slight Eris.

And in return, neither did your Mate.

A warm smile on his hardened face as you tried to explain to a babbling Nyx- who couldn’t understand a thing, that he was to have a cousin. Watching you flourish with a new glow, surrounded by your family- surrounded by love in your childhood home.

Your home which you had opened to him.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris x reader

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raineydays411 · 1 year

Text

My Fathers Daughter pt 10

A different perspective

Dick Grayson has always been used to being the first.

He was the first Robin, the first son, the first to be picked for almost anything.

Hell he was the first child as far as he knew. So imagine his surprise when he finds out his mother not only has a whole secret daughter, but one that she completely abandoned.

He could still hardly believe it.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they found out about her. The look on Christine's face, it was one he's never seen before. The look of shock and almost disbelief, like she had seen a ghost.

In a way she did.

The ghost of the life she left behind with Tony and Y/n Stark. Now Christine was trying so desperately to revive it. As if she didn't murder it with her own hands. And while Dick himself had reservations with these actions, Christine was his mother before anything, and he was going to help her no matter what.

So here he was, standing outside the bedroom of his mothers long lost daughter, trying to figure out something to say. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as Jason of all people managed to get you to open up.

And yet, here he is. Unable to muster up the courage to simply knock on the door.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Dick thinks to himself, "Just knock, what's the worst that can happen?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Dick didn't notice the shadow under the door, and was startled by the sudden swing of it opening and you standing there.

"I can hear your thinking over my music." You said a little annoyed," Is there something I can do for you or...?"

Dick blinked trying to gather all of his thoughts, he really didn't know what to say to you. This is the first time you've said more than three syllables to him.

You stared back, face revealing how uncomfortable you were getting with this prolonged eye contact.

"Riiiight, so im just gonna" You say taking steps to shut the door in his face

"Wait!" The raven haired man shouts, "Wait, please."

You stop with a sigh and open the door, inviting him in, " Alright, come on."

Dick walks in, looking around at the room that actually used to be his when he first moved in.

He mentions as much trying to break the awkward silence.

"Hm, and you were okay staying in a room that was copied from a dracula movie?" You say snarkily

"Well to be fair I was 12 and watched my parents die in front of me, I wasn't really looking at the decor." He says half joking.

You made a face and looked away, feeling even more awkward.

"Anyways, I just wanted to you know...see how you were settling in" Dick starts, " Its been a few months and it feels like we hardly even see you."

You pause, thinking of what to say. But before you even have a chance to say anything Dick continues.

"You know, moms really excited that you're here." He starts, " Honestly I don't think I've ever seen her this excited over anything. She's usually very level headed."

You stare at him

"I mean, you know how she is I suppose she is your mother too."

You stare

"I know she probably really missed you, she gets lonely sometimes you know? Everyone here usually has their own thing going on and we don't really get to see her as much."

Nothing from you

" Well, I guess she see's Damian more than any of us but that's because he's basically her baby."

Okay...that hurt

"I mean, I think he was the youngest when he came to use, I think he was like nine or something. And he was not the easiest to get along with. So don't worry that he hasn't warmed up to you yet."

You hum, already irritated with this conversation.

"He's also really protective of our mom, she's done alot to make sure their relationship is as good as it is." he says offhandedly, " Actually she's done it for all of us."

"Oh really?" You ask with no real intrest.

"Yeah! I remember one time when I was little she always made it a point to spend time with me even though she was so busy." He says fondly.

You decide to play along and remince on the memories that you buried long ago.

"You know, when I was younger, Christine used to take me out of school and take me to see ballet shows." You say with a slight smile, " I was in classes back then and loved watching the older girls dance."

Dick smiled, feeling as if he made some progress with you, " Really? I think she actually takes Cassie and Steph to those sometimes, you should ask to tag along I'm sure she'll love it."

You cringe, feeling another needle in your heart. Not even your memerioes were sacred.

"Yeah no thanks." You reply harshly, " I don't like ballet anymore."

Dick pauses, shocked at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"I--"

And before he can say anything you cut him off, feigning a yawn

"Hey look, not that I don't love our little chats, but I am beat."

"Oh! right, sorry I guess it is getting a bit late.."Dick say hopping up from your bed and walking to the door, " Y/n, you know its really nice talking to you. You should try and open up more."

You smile sarcastically, " you know, something you and mother have in common is that you both like talking at me, not to me."

And with that you shut the door, promptly ending the conversation and sending Dick spiraling.

In fact, the statement bothered him so much that he went seeking a second opinion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yeah... I don't know how to help you man."

"Oh come on! Jason, you and her are like...bosom buddies or something."

"Bosom buddies? How old are you?" Jason scoffs, " Look, what you and everyone here doesn't understand is that Y/n has a family waiting for her. She's not going to except mom as her mom because her mom is still alive and well."

"But...technically our mom is her mom." Dick says hesitantly, " And if I were her I'd be thrilled to have my mom back."

"Dick. Your mom didn't abandon you for a different family." Jason says annoyed he's not getting it, "What the hell is wrong with you, you're usually so level headed about this stuff?"

Dick pauses.

To be honest he doesn't know why he's being so hard headed about the whole situation.

He knows that he doesn't like seeing his mother sad, and lately seeing her face when you reject every move she maked to make amends is heartbreaking to him.

That was his mother. The woman who took him in as her own when his biological parents died.

The same woman that stayed by his side no matter how moody, rude, and bratty he first acted when he first arrived. She took his grief on as her own and basically put him back together along with Bruce. He can still remember the night he considered her his mother.

He had just started out as Robin, and had just got back from patrol. It was a rough night.

First, it was the middle of autumn and raining heavily, he and Bruce weren't getting along this particular night and he overall was just having a bad night. So needless to day he was a little rougher with the baddies he was fighting tonight.

Bruce had already reprimanded him throughout the night about his unnecessary force but Dick did not want to hear it. It got so bad that Dick was just going off own his own without Batmans orders, and thats where the trouble began.

Dick had jumped the gun again, throwing himself into a fight with some drug dealers , not realizing that there were one too many for a fourteen year old to handle by himself. They quickly overpowered him, and ganged up on the poor boy.

He was given quite the beating before Batman caught up to him and basically saved him.

In pain and with a bruised ego, he had to listen to yet another lecture from the irritated (actually extremely worried) dark knight, and one from Alfred who was also extremely worried while he cleaned up the child.

He has finally marched to his room in a huff and after he shut the door, was finally able to reveal in the fact that he almost died. He was lost in thought, finally feeling the fear and pain in every move he made as he tried to crawl under the covers when he heard a knock on the door.

In she came, with a tray of goodies she personally made,staying home from a business trip he had known she was going to go on. She crawled into the bed with him, held him to her chest and allowed him to cry.

"You may be a big brave superhero" She said to him, " But here in this home, you're my son. My baby, and you are allowed to cry if you need to. I won't judge you. I won't say a word."

And he did. He cried.

He cried because he was hurting. He cried because he was angry. Angry because he was beat up. Because he was lectured all night. Because he missed his parents.

But most of all, because he felt as if he was forgetting them. He was having such a good time at the Wayne manor, grew to love the Waynes as the parents they intended to be to him. He felt as if he was betraying his parents. The parents that had raised him up to that point.

And here he was, laying cuddled up to Christine the same way he would with his mother. But at this point the two of them are blurring together, to the point where he can't tell where his mother ends and Christine starts.

This woman, took him in and wrapped him in love.

Love that he thought he would never feel again after that tragic night.

A love that, he honestly cannot imagine never having.

It was something that he couldn't begin to repay her. He wouldn't know how. Where to start.

Rekindling his mother with the daughter she lost. Gave up.

That was the least he could do. He'd do it for her.

But, after the conversation he had with Jason, he went home and thought about it. Actually really thought about it.

The year he came into the Wayne's lives, Christine stopped going on her business trips.

Not all at once, but she would push them back.

Usually because Dick had needed her.

She pushed her trips back until eventually, she just stopped going.

She hadn't said much, just saying that she realized that she was needed at home more than they needed her over there. But even at that age, Dick noticed she was sad. She kept her composure around the family, but once Dick had seen her crying in a pantry deleting something off her phone.

He had thought it was weird but after a few months she was okay.

No crying, no sadness.

And... now that he thinks about it. While he was being wrapped up in love there was another child in New York, who's life was being completely unraveled. All because of him.

And maybe...the reason he was trying so hard to rekindle you and Christine wasn't really because of Christine.

But because since that night, the night you were revealed to be her daughter, he did the math. And he just wanted to give you back the mother he unknowingly stole away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

@loxbbg

@its-emma-asinme

@zagreusdaughter

@animealways

@dead-sane-stuff

@avitute

@khaleesihavilliard

@d3m0n8ch1ld

@almostjollypizza

@anniebannanie0315

@tracysnook

@edlothia-baby

@noom147

@justanotherravenclaw

@gamocity

@eposadomd

@defiantbalde12

@lilyalone

@sillypastasludeland

@cassini-aming-the-stars

@pietrosbae

@bring-it-on-home-johnb

@romanoffmaximoff0096

#marvel x reader #avengers x teen!reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #x reader #reader insert #dc comics x reader #marvel #batfam #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader

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simpforfandoms · 1 year

Note

If possible, would you be willing to write Remy LeBeau x reader on their first date. Please and thank you

💜

I tried really hard to write a first date but I just can’t so this is as close as it gets

You don’t know how you got here, one second you’re chaperoning a prom and the next Remy is asking if you want to get out of there. And maybe it was the spiked punch (did they really think you wouldn’t notice?) or the fact that you had the slightest bit of a crush (god you sound like a highschooler) on the red eyed mutant that made you say yes. So that’s how you end you’re taking a stroll with Remy throughout the courtyard looking for any teenage mutants doing scandalous things and talking about pointless things

“In France is french kissing just kissing? Or french fires just fries?” You ask

Remy gives you a look, “I’m not French”

“But you know French?”

“Yes but I’m Cajun not French”

“Okay but you can still answer the question.”

“probably just called fries.”

“I thought so.” You shrug, you pause before adding, “not that you have to answer but, what happened between you and Rogue.”

You have been curious. You had heard rumors that they had gotten a divorce so in your eyes his response could be “I don’t know what your talking about” or just confirm that they had divorced. Nevertheless you convince yourself that they’re still together, as not to get you’re hopes up.

He shrugs, “we wanted different things”

You stay silent even though you know you should probably comfort him. Thoughts running through your head a hundred miles per hour. Wait so if him and rogue weren’t together does that mean that this wasn’t just a friendly stroll, could it be like a date? No. Remy could never see you romantically. You hardly know the guy besides secret glances and friendly conversations. Plus Anna Marie is so cool. After being with her he would never go for you. He’s an x-men, you’re just a teacher that teaches at the academy. Nothing special. Not like you save lives or anything. Unless you count evacuating the school as it blows up for the hundredth time.

He eventually notices your long standing silence and asks you a question, one that you didn’t hear but mumbled a ‘yes’ in response.

“do you wanna go somewhere to eat?” He asks

That brings you out of your daze, and you shoot him. A questionable look, “what? We still have to chaperone”

He rolls his eyes, “I never signed up to chaperone”

“What? Then what are you doing here?”

He lets out an oh so attractive chuckle, “isn’t it obvious darlin? I wanted to be with you.”

What. Why would Remy Lebeu of all people want to be with you. As previously discussed, he was an x men and you were, well you.

“So you went to a boring school dance just to be with me?” You almost laugh at the absurdity.

“it’s almost summer, you’ll leave soon and I won’t see you”

“And that’s a problem how”

“God do you play dumb.” He chuckles, “cause I’ll miss you.”

You? He’ll miss you?!?! You?!?!

As if he can sense your questions he answers, “I’ll miss over hearing your lectures every morning, and you always saying goodnight to everyone in the building including me, and how you remember my coffee order after I told you one time-“

“That’s because it’s just black.”

“My point is, I’ll miss you”

“I’ll be back in 3 months” you say

“To long to go without seeing you”

You laugh, “fine I can go for a burger”

…

“This is the best burger I’ve had in my whole life,” you state before taking another bite

“I’ve had better”

“Yeah sure.” You roll your eyes

You look at the time, “oh shit we have to get back before Charles realizes we’re gone.”

“I’ll handle it, don’t worry darlin.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

After some delicious burgers Remy walks you back to your dorm or living quarters.

“Sooo…” you pause, “I had fun.”

“Me too.”

“goodnight Remy” You go to turn around but he grabs your arm before you can. And gives you a goodnight kiss. Was it everything you imagined? Maybe.

…

#gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #x men x reader #first date #fluff #Remy LeBeau fluff #marvel x reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 25 days

Text

Blankie

Summary: Astarion makes a blankie for Alethaine (and she, surprisingly, remembers it even centuries after).

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, fluff, visions of the future

Alethaine's age: 8 months old (and 305 in the second part)

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine looks at Astarion with her pitch-black eyes. Her lower lip quivers as she gets teary with every passing moment.

“Oh no,” the vampire mutters. “Did I do something wrong?”

Alethaine stretches her arms to him and Astarion lifts the dhampir up as the girl nuzzles into his chest using her father’s white shirt as a napkin.

“Princess,” Astarion caresses her back. “What happened? “

He feels a rising panic. Alethaine is only eight months old and the whole experience of parenthood is so new and weird to him that he barely knows what to do with the toddler crawling around the house and demanding all his and Tiriel's attention.

And he is oh so afraid of doing something wrong!

“Tiriel.” Astarion approaches the red-headed half-elf who’s busy cooking a stew for herself and the baby. “I definitely did something wrong, but I don't know what”

Tiriel puts away a spoon and kisses his cheek.

“If you had done something wrong, she would not have ruined your shirt,” Tiriel bends towards her daughter and touches her left ear, so elongated and different from hers. “Kitten, did you just miss Daddy?”

Alethaine makes a weird sound which is easily interpreted as an agreement.

“She wanted you to hold her,” Tiriel smiles. “You are doing well, Astarion, trust me. I talk to local women a lot and they keep telling their husbands that even a vampire is a better father than them.”

“I am afraid to hurt her,” Astarion says. “I am afraid I will do something unacceptable, something that will leave her damaged… “

As he worries, he presses Alethaine closer. The girl has a loud heartbeat, but her chest doesn't move, her breath stolen by dhampirism a few months ago.

A half-undead baby. The primal source of Astarion's anxieties and joy.

“Astarion,” Tiriel says, her focus back on the simmering dinner. “I have a request for you.”

“Anything you want, my sweet,” Astarion leans towards her to inhale her scent.

“Could you make a blanket for Alethaine? Not a regular one, though. One with a toy stitched on it? Like you know… She can sleep under it and hug a toy. I saw it at Nandaek and Ruligith’s house, and I thought that thing was really cute.”

“I am sorry, I can hardly imagine what you mean,” he laughs.

Alethaine suddenly has enough of being held and demands to be put down. Astarion complies and the toddler runs up to the wall to watch a spider crawl up the ceiling.

“And I think we need more pillows,” she adds.

Astarion blames either his lack of imagination or Tiriel’s eloquence and decides to go straight to the neighbors, a Dwarven couple who also live in the underground part of the town. They are both of Duergar descent and prefer the caves to the woods and mountains.

Rutha is the same age as Alethaine, but she still cannot walk and mostly sits in her cradle. When Astarion enters, invited by Ruligith, Rutha watches him carefully as if feeling the guest was not a regular visitor.

“Tiriel keeps mentioning this blanket and I am more than willing to make one for Alethaine, but I have no idea how it's supposed to look!”

Ruligith approaches her baby and takes the blanket out of the cradle. Rutha makes a fuss even though she was barely touching it.

“This one?” The dwarf hands the blankies to Astarion.

It is rather small, more like a big napkin but enough to cover a toddler head to toe. It is crocheted and a tiny bear is stitched to it.

Well, of course, Alethaine would not enjoy a bear nor soft pink colors. It needs to be pitch black and the toy… a bat. Yes, a cute bat will do!

Astarion thanks the dwarf, wishes Rutha a good night (as if she were an adult lady), and goes looking for a crochet hook. He mostly prefers needles and threads, but there is something meditative about working with such a simple tool.

He finds a small market in the central square on the surface part of Daggerlake. The seller doesn't even question why someone would need so much black yarn but decides to give a lecture that spokeshaves would be better.

When he finally returns home, Tiriel has already had dinner and is cleaning the table on the side where Alethaine sat.

Astarion gives Tiriel a kiss and goes straight to the fireplace to make the blankie.

Astarion finds stitching so relaxing that he gets completely lost in the moment. Soon the black blanket is ready and it is time to make the bat. It is a bit more difficult since he has never crocheted toys.

Intrusive thoughts keep appearing despite all his concentration. Pathetic, miserable, useless. Deserving to be beaten and punished. Astarion keeps crocheting faster, hoping the thoughts will leave him.

It’s like a dark storm. No reason to fight it, it will kill you. You just need to wait till it goes.

Finally, the blanket is ready.

Astarion adores his work. Will Alethaine remember having it? Or she will soon ruin it and forget all about it?

He stands up and goes to the bathroom where Tiriel is bathing Alethaine in a small tub. Thanks to the dwarven pipes, there is always hot water in the town, a luxury even by Baldur's gate standards.

Alethaine starts laughing, baring her fangs when she notices Astarion entering the bathroom.

“Hello, princess!” Astarion says. “Look what I made for you!”

Tiriel takes the blanket out of his hands.

“It is so beautiful,” she says. “And you made it so fast!”

“Well I am a fast learner,” he chuckles. “My ancestors were named Ancunins for a reason, the ones who learn by hand!”

Astarion wraps Alethaine in the new blankie and warms her up.

He unwraps her and wipes the toddler dry while the girl laughs and tries to grab the little bat.

Astarion kisses the girl's cheek. Then he kisses her chest and shoulders. Alethaine giggles feeling her father's cold lips and tries to grab his curls.

“Aren't you the sweetest baby?” he chuckles, grabbing her little body. The feelings of awe and excitement overfill him. Such a small and delicate creature, such a lovely girl. Astarion plants kisses along her belly and hands and then a wave of shame hits his mind like the darkest tide.

He lets go of Alethaine who is very unhappy with his sudden mood swing.

What is he even doing…

Can a father kiss his daughter like that? Or he has just ruined something important for his daughter, or done something inappropriate?

He steps back.

“Is anything wrong? “ Tiriel asks, coming to the room with fresh clothes.

“I… I… “ he can barely say anything.

Tiriel puts a black onesie on Alethaine and covers her with the blankie. The girl immediately hugs the toy.

“What happened in those few minutes I was away?” Tiriel takes his hand.

“I… I did… I was kissing her.”

“And? “

“I think I shouldn’t have.”

Tiriel laughs. The wave of shame fades.

“Astarion you are her father, of course, you can kiss her!”

“And what if she didn't want me to?”

“She would show you. Astarion, listen, I know almost every form of intimacy is tainted for you, but there is nothing wrong with kissing your daughter as long as she doesn't mind. A couple more years, and she won't let you do it anyway.”

“I have seen fathers who… “ he can’t finish the sentence. For some reason, the atrocities men of every race occasionally do to their own children now feel much less understandable.

“Astarion, don't wind yourself up, please,” Tiriel smiles. “She will remember her father being attentive and kind and she will demand it from every man she meets in her life. And she grows fast so use this opportunity to squeeze her.”

Astarion feels shame again now because only in his sick head caring for a baby could gain a perverted connotation.

“Astarion, do you trust me?” Tiriel whispers.

“I do, my love.”

“Good. Do you trust me to believe you are a good father?”

“I think so?”

“Good. Because you are,” she smiles and tugs him closer. Alethaine is already asleep.

Astarion leans to kiss his baby’s forehead. The dhampir smiles and presses the crochet bat closer to her chest.

305 years later

The storm clouds are so dark that it feels like night above Darknest, the castle home to an unlikely alliance between vampires and dhampirs, the Blood Guild, .

Astarion studies the list of requests. Running a castle isn't an easy job, but he likes it.

After the war with the demons that were turning the vast lands of Faerun into a wasteland, there was nothing more satisfying than managing a property.

It is over, he reminds himself. The abyss is sealed. The world has changed and Astarion barely recognizes the maps and towns – but, well, every victory has a price.

He knows he is witnessing the end of one era and the beginning of another.

Astarion remembers an elven army like the world hasn't seen in 10,000 years. He remembers the hordes resurrected by Alethaine marching through the cursed wastelands right into the abyss’s maw. He remembers the Blood Guild’s vampires and dhampirs joining the fight because they all had more in common with mortals than demons.

Alethaine was heavily wounded in a fight. He was not sure, but it seemed like the necromancer had fallen down from a great height. When the battle was over and the demons had faded into oblivion, Alethaine’s husband, Elren Goldenroot, tried to go search for her even though he had been wounded too (not surprising considering he led the elven army, slaughtering demons with his sword Rilyamacil). Astarion ordered him to stay put and soon found Alethaine at the foot of the mountain.

She may have been one of the strongest necromancers. She may have been a dhampir. For fuck’s sake, she was the High Queen of Elves chosen alongside her husband to rule what remained of Tel’Quessira.

In that moment, she was his helpless daughter barely alive and covered in ash and dirt.

Astarion remembers how he knelt beside her and how he prayed to hear her heartbeat, only to hear two.

It shocked and mesmerized him so much that he just sat with Alethaine in his arms listening to the second heart.

He brought Alethaine back to safety and then had to retreat back into the shadows. When the darkness fell on the world yet again, the elves had already left for the Isle of Evermeet, their kingdom in the seas protected from the demons and the undead by a strong veil of magic.

Astarion doesn't even know if Alethaine got better. If her pregnancy ended well. The mere thought he could be a grandfather right now weirds him out.

“Astarion,” Theris, his so-called nephew, a tiefling-dhampir he co-founded the guild with, enters his room. “We have guests.”

“Who?” Astarion asks. The Blood Guild has a lot of clients, but rarely anyone is so bold as to come in person. Usually, mortals send letters asking someone to meet in a neutral place.

“Come and see,” Theris says and disappears on the high ceiling.

Another annoying thing about dhampirs. Those fuckers are almost invisible to vampires.

Astarion goes to the tower which belongs to the dhampirs and is used for the rare mortal guests.

No, it can't be…

The elf in traveling armor smiles when Astarion enters the room.

“Nice to see you, Astarion!” Elren smiles. High King of elves or not, he is still the monster slayer and folk hero he used to be.

Astarion hugs his son-in-law.

“I—I am happy to see you. Though I expected someone of your standing to travel with a whole troop!”

“I have ten archers with me, but they all waited in the safety of the camp. I decided not to put them at risk.”

“So you think you are safe here? "Astarion chuckles.

“I have been killing much scarier things than vampires, Astarion. And Alethaine is a much more intimidating presence than anyone here.”

“How is she? "Astarion asks. " Is everything all right? “

Elren smiles. “Yes, she is great! Well, she can't enter the druidic groves and there are dozens of them on the Isle, but she also built a whole dungeon for her dark arts and I guess we are protected from anything thanks to that. And… Tiri already tries to steal my arrows,” he adds somewhat proudly.

“Tiri..” Astarion echoes.

“Oh, I am sorry! You have a granddaughter. Alethaine called her Tiriel. Tiri. She has red hair, the color of fire, and blue eyes.”

Astarion must be smiling like an idiot. A granddaughter!

Elren proceeds to talk about the baby elf. That the first thing she tried to do once she managed to make any coherent movement was to run away to the woods. That she rarely cries, but is easily scared by anything necromancy or monster-related. That Mordo, a skeleton butler Alethaine made out of three people she hated, now has to live in the dungeons and never leave them. That she, the oldest child on Evermeet, has already befriended all other elven toddlers on the Isle. That she speaks both Elven and Sylvan but keeps mixing them together and sometimes Alethaine doesn’t understand what she wants.

“Listen, if it is no bother for you…” Elren finally says. “Alethaine told me that when she was a baby you made her a blanket with a crocheted toy. And she wonders if you could make a similar one for Tiri.”

“Of course! But considering what you told me about her, I doubt she would enjoy a black bat.”

“She likes dragons, “ Elren smiles. “And the color green.”

The green blanket turns out perfect. Astarion adds golden symbols to it – protective runes and simply beautiful things. He wonders how his granddaughter looks. She is definitely not similar to Alethaine, the pale dhampir. A mortal redhead girl with blue eyes of her father, who tries to steal arrows and wants to explore the world around her. Who clings to her mother demanding attention but avoids dark and scary things at all costs.

Then, Astarion proceeds to crochet a little dragon. He doesn't have to rush. Elren said he will come back with his people in a week, so he takes his time.

God-forsaken elven magic that doesn't let Astarion go to his granddaughter and see her in person! He feels like he is being left out and deprived of a very important thing in his undead life. But you can't have everything. Besides, Tiri will grow up soon… And maybe she will even remember the blanket he has made for her.

Elren comes back in ten days. Now his archers wait for him by the castle walls – they want to sail to the Isle before winter starts and the waves get too high.

“You look more like yourself,” Astarion laughs seeing his son-in-law. His cloak is torn, his armor is missing the right shoulder pad and a deep cut crosses his cheek; Elren looks exhausted.

“Yeah, you know, fighting something ten times bigger than me is definitely out of my comfort zone,” he says. “At least I don't need to worry about who will ensure my armor is neat and clean.”

Astarion hands him the blanket. Elren unfolds it and watches closely the runes and the toy.

“Astarion, I hope you are aware of how truly talented you are.”

“Just centuries of practice.”

“I doubt I will be able to do anything remotely close to this even when I am 800. Thank you! Alethaine will be thrilled.”

“I made it bigger than the one she had so Tiri won't grow out of it any time soon.”

Elren puts the blanket in his sack and hugs Astarion goodbye.

“Listen, if it was up to me I would invite you to live with us.”

“I know, Elren. But truly, that elven kingdom of yours would be boring to me”

“True,” The High King of Elves presses his right hand against his heart. “Cuio vae, Astarion.”

Alethaine presses the blanket against her face. It’s made of different types of yarn and Darknest is half a world away from where Daggerlake used to be.

But the blanket smells like home.

It’s the color of wet green and has intricate golden symbols all over it. The little dragon is detailed and reminds Alethaine of her childhood plushies, also made by Astarion. Thanks to the fact she’s finally learned how to reverie, memories of her long life are back and she even remembers her childhood even though elves usually forget everything that happens before 50.

Elren thinks that’s because they were raised in human communities, though Alethaine would place her bet on her human ancestry.

Alethaine feels like the blanket slips off her hands.

“Here, Tiri. Ma nás mára tyen?”

“Ná!” Tiri wraps herself in the blanket and goes to check on Elren who is in a deep trance after a long journey where he and his warriors barely had any rest.

“Don’t disturb him,” Alethaine asks. “Come on, Little Fire.” She lifts her daughter up and kisses her forehead. “Let’s put you to sleep.”

Quenya vocabulary

Ma nás mára tyen? - Do you like it?

Ná! - Yes

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ginsengkitten · 2 months

Text

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Sixteen

Never Tear Us Apart

A/N: Thank you so much for all your love and support. I have had so much fun writing this and am very proud of it.

☆smut warning

☆ highly recommended song listen for prior or during this chapter : Never tear us apart by INXS

Smoke bore through the neon lights in the private dance room. A compact stage adorned with moody lighting and luxurious red shag carpeting everywhere. Slash reclined his body into the couch. His stature at spread legs, taking up the entirety of the velvety sofa. The outside world shut out. He had to see her. His girl. His curiosity burned as soon as he first saw you up on the main stage before. He put down half a tours worth of money to reserve a private dance then and there. It was not in your jurisdiction to object, while you wanted to, there did lie a part inside of you that wanted to show him what he was missing. What he- walked out on? No, remember, he just revealed that wasn't the case and he maybe still lo-nevermind that. This is your job, your profession, your livelihood. A check was a check. Anything to keep a roof over your head. While confusion simmered at your fringes from the earlier interaction, the hurt still remained and caused you to entertain this idea. A bitter angle that made you want to torment him with your skills. To fill him with desire and regret. To cause him pain. Pain in the way that he caused you-although you suppose- he didn't-mean to? You repress the thought and take one last bump before your private dance. You looked like a vixen starlet in fishnets. The epitome of beauty and desire. To show him all that he could have had, to show him just how good you were doing for yourself now. Without him.

The lights lowered to a sultry glow. Slash leaned forward, elbows on his knees curiously as he watched the stage.

The beginning synths of 'Never Tear Us Apart' by INXS bleeds into the room. He watched the empty stage, awaiting your appearance, when to his surprise, he felt a light touch, slide its way from the back of his shoulder, and down his arm. You made a dramatized entranced from behind, with a sexy waltz in your stilettos. His eyes immediately began to drink you in. The deep bass lines of the song filled the room with a deep yearning. Something romantically inclined and full of want between the symphony.

The song continued

"Don't ask me-

What you know is true-"

You and him connect eyes and hardly break. You circle in front of him and to the other side of him, like a tiger encroaching on its prey. A part of him wondering if he should be afraid of you in this moment. He wants badly to reach out and touch your skin. You can feel it too. You swipe his cigarette from his lips and take a drag of it before putting it out in the ash tray in an effort to fuck with him.

"Don't have to tell you-

I love your precious heart...-"

He watched you.

You escape his reach and dangle yourself in front of him as you turn around and walk up the stage.

"I , I was standing,

You were there,"

Watching you leave was almost as good as see you approach. The corset bound neatly around your figure, leaving little to his imagination.

"Two worlds collided..-"

Did you still have that freckle under your left breast? He thought. Or that birthmark on your inner thigh? He yearned for more of you. Already having to adjust his seat to remain comfortable with the added pressure his jeans now withheld.

You took the stage as dramatically and the song entered a heavy bass guitar lick as it dropped into a more intense and sensual tune. Using the rhythm of the song to begin dancing for him. You grabbed the pole and wrapped yourself around it in the most talented way that made slash sweat with desire.

"We could live-

For a thousand years."

He had never witnessed something so tantalizing. The memories of days past flooding his mind.

"But if I hurt you,

I'd make wine, from your tears..-"

You tried to focus on your craft. You felt his eyes on you at every sway of your hips.

"I told you- that we could fly."

The urge to be close to him overtakes the choreography and you move your way back down to dance in front of him again.

"Cause we all have wings"

With your back turned rhythmically to him, you felt a shocking touch as his fingertips glided down your spine across the corset bindings, departing his touch right before reaching below. You turn around, out of choreography. Meeting his gaze. That one familiar gaze you knew so well. The one that hunted you down and tore you open like an animal. That poured into you like a river or a blade. That warmed you. Kindled you.

"But some of us- don't know why-"

You had altogether halted your choreography to meet him. To examine his matured face in the dim neon hues. It was gruffer now. No longer fresh of youth but a more rugged and chiseled canvas. Up That face that you had yearned for, that plagued you.

You took at step closer to him inquisitively. The years worth of dreaming of you every night, how your face was attached to every woman he had met. How the curvature of your smile and hips had tortured him for years. Your image playing in his mind on a loop. Begging for more. Memories of touch, sound, taste, infiltrated his mind as he looked you up and down.

The air growing thick as the song amplified to its most dramatic part.

"-and they could never, tear us apart..."

As if on key, connected through the melody, the both of your bodies collide in an instant. He gets a taste of your sweet lips and goes feral. The two of you connected as if one was supplying the other with the only oxygen in 100 miles. Both satiating a lifetime of hunger and yearning. "Fuck it" you thought. As did he. The imaginary parameters that had placed themselves under the guise of time, fell apart. It was as if no time at all had passed. You felt his large, rough hands, sculpt the outside of your body. Your hands flush with his wild curls. His breath was a spice of cigarettes and whiskey and you tried to taste all of it. Quickly, clothes were ripped from eachothers bodies. You took place straddling his lap. The two of you maneuvering without breaking lips. Your breath heaving and moans of relief and rescue escaping. How long you both had yearned for this. His hands mold to you. Running up and down your now bare skin, giving you goosebumps. He peppered wet hungry kisses across your neck and chest, as if trying to devour you whole. While his years of romantic yearning came to fruition, he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss your body. Fantasizing about the way you felt, the way you sounded when your sweet gasps of pleasure would escape your lips.

Your tongues dance recklessly with another as he effortlessly lifts you onto his sprung and hard cock. You instantly felt the years of his maturity, manifest inside of you and a moan sprinkled laugh of shock and pleasure lets out of you. Slash lets out a devious grin. That signature devious grin. And begins ushering you to up and down motion on top of him. He lets out a deep heavy moan and holds you close to his face as the two of you cease to break eye contact. Your foreheads press together as the frantic fucking continues. “Fuck Foxey girl, you feel so good.” Slash moans breathlessly.

Slash quickly lifts you off of him and adjusts the position now. He grabs you and gently but firming lies you on the red shag carpet and enters you missionary now. He wanted to fuck YOU. To make love to you on his own power. He thrusts harder into you and pumps in and out passionately. He hangs over you as one of his necklaces dangles above you. His golden brown abdomen drips with speckled sweat as he pants like a dog. His dark curls fall around you. He cradles your head in his arm and uses the leverage to fuck you faster and harder now. You are speechless and seeing stars as he pounds into you incessantly. The rapid passion increases as the two of you breathe into eachothers lips.

“My Foxey girl. I miss your sweet pussy. So fucking good.” He whispers to you and his adornment sends you spinning.

“Slash I’m - gonna -“ you cry. He cradles you firmly and thrusts into you. You feel his entirety inside of you. He holds you close and encourages you.

“Cum for me Foxey girl. That’s it baby.”

You release, sending echos of gripping pulses around him, which send him over the edge as well. You feel warm hot spurts inside of you as you both cum.

“That’s my- girl.” He grunts into you.

It was minutes before either of you dared to break away from your post sex embrace, to utter a word. No words could satisfy what ecstasy this was.

Alas, with tears brimmed in your eyes, he pulled away and held your face in his hands. He examined you fully. He was enthralled with your beauty. With how you had grown into such a beautiful woman. "Look at you Foxey.." he said trancelike in awe of you and your beauty. Tears almost brimming his eyes too. His thumb grazing your cheek and your lips. "My girl. My girl." He cooed.

A softer song played out in a melancholy romantic melody. He lifted to his feet and the two of you began a silly, tired, haphazard slow dance to the song. He presses his forehand down against yours and smiles at you. You interlock fingers as You return a smile and two of you exchange a chuckle. How strange a place to find yourselves in this time and place.

Your tears fill with regret of time wasted and your let out a sad sob as you curl into his chest.

"I'm sorry- slash- " you cry. "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to leave like that. Slash I loved you, I loved you so much I still-

You short circuit to debate the next word but he clutches you harder and soothes you.

"I know baby, I know." He whispers through tears. You break away and meet eachothers gaze again.

"My Foxey girl..." he says.

" I love you. I loved you then, and I love you now. I never stopped loving you. I'm know I'm from washed up junkie -“

“No honey no.-“ you try to interrupt, holding a hand to his face.

“but I swear to you If that's the one word I'm good for it's that. I thought of you every single day. I dreamt of you every single night. Every breath I took was to hoping maybe if I just tried one more day, maybe I'd see you.”

“Come with me…” he says calmly.

“W-what?” You pull back to look at him again curiously.

“Come with me. Be on the road with me. I know it’s not much it’s hectic and it’s crazy but I swear I can’t be another day apart from you. It could be us. I can take care of you.” He says

The thought of letting someone in to nurture you like that made you nervous. You had built yourself like a guard dog. Ready to bite when needed and always watching your back because no where was safe.

Slash could see the apprehension inside of you and grabbed your face again.

“Let me take care of you. Please.”

After a teary eyed session of goodbyes to everyone at Sparkplug, an especial thank of gratitude to Dee, it had taken little convincing for you to leave with slash. He’s right. It was hectic and it was crazy but it was you two. Finally together, free to love and laugh and live together. Peace befalling you both and you spent your days recounting that summer, the war stories of the time that had past, and riding the rollercoaster of the rock world once more. This time as seasoned veterans of life and loss, making the reunion of your hearts all that much sweeter.

It was beautiful, it was dangerous, it was love.

#gnr #slash #slash gnr #saul hudson #slash fanfiction #slash x reader #gnr smut #gnr x reader #saul hudson x reader #slash smut

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aquanova99 · 1 year

Text

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕞

Azriel x reader(kinda)

Part 1 Next >>

A/N: okay be easy on me I haven’t written for ACOTAR before. But at the end of the day I always say I write for myself so 🤭

A/N: i do genuinely hope everyone who likes this series enjoys! Have a beautiful day ♥️

��───────────────❥

The snow was stuck to the ground. It was high time they started. But he was late. The white crystals crunched under Cassian’s heavy pacing. Rhys leaned against a tree, tapping his arm, periodically and pointlessly searching for Azriel’s shielded mind. A mind that had never been off limits to him before. He knew Cassian suspected him of doing something to upset Azriel, and he had in fact used his authority as ruler to forbid him from conversing with Elain. But he could have never imagined he’d go radio silent. And certainly, he would never miss this. It was tradition, what brought them together. He had hoped this day would be what finally allowed him to see his own point. The following weeks after the order was passed had met Rhysand with nothing on Azriel’s end unless there were necessary updates on whatever was happening in Prythian. Any attempts to communicate were met with, ‘anything else?’ ‘Is that all?’

Feyre had finally demanded for him to tell her why Azriel didn’t want to speak to her or Elain anymore. Safe to say if it wasn’t for Nyx, Feyre would be giving him the silent treatment as well.

“Alright. What did you do?” Cassian growled

“Nothing.”

“Rhys.”

“I told him to stay away from Elain. The last thing we need is for a war to break out against Autumn Court. They may just take Lucien sides if he decides to duel him. She isn’t his mate. I thought he would understand. Its been a year. I thought Mor--”

He could see Cassian shaking to control his anger, “Told, as in ordered?”

“…Yes.”

“Because all mated pairs work out so well.” He scoffed. “Where is he?”

“I…I don’t know. He’s only been communicating whatever’s been necessary.” Rhys hears Cassian think about how perhaps Nesta was right and flies off. Rhysand can only sit down, exhausted. It was the winter solstice. They would be exchanging gifts soon, how would he explain his brother’s absence? “Where the hell are you Az?”

➽───────────────❥

He could have easily traveled through his normal shadows, but flying the distance hurt more. And he deserved it. He told himself it was pure curiosity, but he knew he was running. Or flying. He reached Vallahan and still… he kept flying. Wondering what he would find beyond the expansive faerie realms. Maybe more possible allies even further west. Days he flew until his wings physically couldn’t hold him anymore. This was dangerous, he should star flying lower, not so high up. He looked at his hands shaking at the sheer exhaustion of his travels.

Pathetic, he thought. Pining for centuries for someone who showed him time and time again she would never be interested. And why would she be? He was nobody. Strong, sure but what else? His own family rejected him, hated him. Then Feyre came into their lives, and subsequently her sisters did too. Two of the three mated to his “brothers,” the third…the kindest, the only one who seemed to have even noticed him, mated to someone else. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t owed Elain, by any means. But when would he find a mate of his own. Would he even know if he found her? Was he so desperate to have someone he would focus on Elain, so he, like his brothers had an Archeron sister? No, Rhysand was right. He needed to stay away from her. From all of them, until he could figure out what was wrong with him. Maybe he should just disappear forever…save himself any more suffering. Suffering. Endless suffering. He could hardly remember a time where he was happy. Within the Inner Circle, he suffered at seeing Cassian and Mor. Never really forgetting that betrayal. When he was young…

A pain wracked through his body. He’d pushed his body to its limits. He began falling. Making no effort to help himself. Somewhat glad it could all be over. He was falling backwards, not seeing the giant trees about to break his fall. He groaned as his wings took the majority of the impact, vines intertwining and suspending him halfway above the ground. Any movement he made everything hurt. His eyes looked at the sky, his eyelids fluttering shut. Finally giving in to his exhaustion.

‘I’ve never seen wings like that.’

‘Where do you think he’s from?’

‘Both of you quiet. He will be waking soon. Go. We may need to hide.’

He should disappear right now. Use the shadows. But he didn’t even know where he was, let alone where to go. East, he supposed until he reached something familiar. But then he’d have to explain himself. Allies. Looking for allies. Azriel struggled to open his eyes. Worried about what he would see. Or wouldn’t see. The room seemed to glow around him.

“Before you decide to run, or even move. I would suggest you move slowly.”

Even with warning, Azriel’s head snapped towards the voice. He ignored the pain as he took her in. A woman he could only describe as regal. She looked serious, her skin seemed to shimmer in the warm orange glow of the room. Her wings were down but even he could tell they were magnificent. Dark hair flowed down to her waist, different braids woven in and small flowers adorning it. Azriel blinked a few times, trying to get his voice back. Trying to memorize this place. Trying to memorize her, “Where am I?”

“You crash landed in our home. This is Luminia Grove. Now, where are you from?” Azriel grows quiet, “Listen, we took you in, last I checked. If you don’t want to talk, fine. Try not to get tangled in anymore trees, yes?”

“I’m from Prythian.” Azriel spoke softly, embarrassed. Here he had gone crashing into their home, they had taken him in and still he demanded answers.

“Should I know where that is? How long were you flying for?”

“A few days…I think.” How far exactly had he gone? She only nods and leaves the room. When she enters she is followed by two others carrying in plates of food, meanwhile the one who been waiting for you to wake, carried a pitcher of something.

“Eat and drink. We can get you more if you need. You need to rebuild your strength to get home. I’m Callista. These two are Aurora, and Venia.” They both nod in your direction before leaving. She leans down next to him, When he flinches, her voice softens. “I’m just going to help you sit up, okay?”

She is careful about his wings, still healing from the magic she must have used when he slept. “Thank you.” he whispers hoarsely

“If you need to rest longer do so, but only as long as you need to heal.” Azriel nods, and begins eating some of the food he was offered. Before he can thank her again, she exits the room leaving him alone.

You could leave. It would be as if you were never here. He thought to himself, but he also wasn’t ready. He couldn’t go back, continue living in the shadows. Both figuratively and literally, it had drained him. He was so tired. Worthless. Maybe a couple days, if they allowed it. Callista certainly didn’t seem keen on his presence. But her words did not sound impatient, but rather worried. He wonders if she was trying to give him a warning. Azriel decides to shift his focus on the meal in front of him. The food is better than anything he’d ever had anyway, so much so he had to stop himself from licking the plate. The drink seemed to replenish any lasting pain. Reenergizing him. Aurora and Venia entered the second he was finished.

“Would you like more?” Venia asked

“No. Thank you. I was won—” The second they got their answer they left again. Azriel immediately regrets it. In truth, more food sounded wonderful. He got up and stretched his limbs, slowing testing his wings. He could have sworn he heard them crack but he felt next to nothing now. Just some soreness. Azriel realized the room he was in was very simple, a few beds lined up on one side. A couple dressers on the other. There was a single closet, locked. He decided to explore whatever place this was alone, maybe he could find figure out why no one had ever found this place, and if they had why had no one mentioned it? Not fast enough. Callista opened the door as he reached for the handle.

“Escaping already?”

“No. Just…I just wanted to see more. I can stay here…if you need me to.”

“You’re welcome to walk around. You may get some questions. Just so you know, since you don’t seem like the talkative type.” She was right, his lips formed a tight line. When he took a few steps back, she reached for his hand. “I’ll show you around.”

When he grabbed it he glanced down, suddenly ashamed at the sight of them. When she followed his gaze, Azriel pulled his hand back. He didn’t want to talk about them. Callista noticed, but her face remained unchanged. She grabbed his hand again and led him out the door. Azriel’s face felt red. He didn’t pull away this time. He was thankful the lady had said nothing, acted as if there was nothing. The door led directly outside, Azriel realizing he had been in some sort of infirmary. A whole room somehow built into and concealed by trees and foliage. The branch the two stepped on was wide. When he looked up he could only see glimpses of the sky. He wondered how long he’d fallen, how hard he crashed. And how long he’d been out.

“Yeah, I don’t know how you fell all that way. You must have been up pretty high.” Azriel stared, wondering if she could dig into his mind like Rhys could. “It looks a lot better at night.”

“What is this place?”

“A hideaway of sorts. We don’t get many visitors. And the ones we do get…well they can never find this place twice it seems.”

“I could.”

“Maybe. You do have some ability, I assume. There’s a power that surrounds you. And those things adorning you. They give off some very powerful energy.”

“Syphons. They allow me to control my power in battle. Magic.”

“Hm. So do you want to talk about what it is you were searching? Why risk your life flying for that amount of time?”

“I- I don’t know what I was flying for.” This was true, Azriel had decided to start flying. To escape, to find allies, whatever. He figured he could find a reason on the way. He looked back down at Callista. She was studying him, curious. Probably worried about the shadows that never seemed to leave him, he thought. She tilted her head and motioned for him to follow. Her wings unfurled into four beautiful leaf shaped wings, with colors he could only describe similar to the sunrise. Only more breathtaking. Yellows turning into pinks, purples barely touching the edges. Her wings shifted colors depending on where the light hit. He’d never seen wings so beautiful. They were almost translucent, they looked as if they could shatter like glass. His own wings, the same ones that he had always hated seem to pale in comparison. He’d never felt more like an Illyrian. Filthy. Unworthy. A monster.

He followed her down into the deep thicket of the woods. He could see the homes concealed through magic. Still most fae should be able to find this place, if they so desired they should see through the glamour. So how has no one returned upon finding this location? She landed on what appeared to be a giant root, a home hidden on the forest floor. Azriel sat down next to her, face serious, determined to get more answers.

“You carry much pain.”

“Do I? Tell me what you see.”

“I do not know. I just see sadness, pain.”

Azriel scoffed, “You think you know me. You don’t even know my name.”

“I do not need to know your name. You will be gone soon. You have unfinished business. Everyone who finds us, they always have some kind of unfinished business.”

“And if I wanted to stay?” He means this as a threat. He was a stranger, surely they would fight to keep their precious village secret. She pauses but after a moment Callista only shrugs.

“Then you would stay.”

“Wait…what?”

“You will not stay. But if you chose to, we would welcome you.”

“You know nothing.” Azriel could feel his anger rising, his guard up. Years of being silent threatening to spill from his lips.

“Then teach me.” Callista offered, her voice unwavering, “Tell me about your life. From the beginning. We don’t get many guests here. I would love to learn about your life. Learn how others grew up.”

“You cant just dig into my mind?”

“Why would I do that? Your thoughts should be yours and yours alone.”

“So, you have the ability to?”

“No.” She giggles, “It is good to know that there are those with those kind of abilities. Sounds like a nightmare to never be able to hide anything. Besides, what if this person shares secrets that aren’t his to share?”

“It is useful--”

“I’m sure. Listen—you are under no obligation to speak to me. You are more than welcome to fly up to the room you were in when you woke. I would suggest you make your decision soon. Time seems to move differently here, or so I’ve been told. You will have been gone longer than you think upon your return home.”

“Who is the high lord here?”

“High lord?”

“Who rules these lands?” If he did want to make alliances or threats, he supposed it was best to know who he should be directing his questions towards. Azriel was already warming up to Callista, he’d rather not involve her. Of course, as usual, luck was not on his side.

“I suppose I do, along with a council of peers my parents selected before they died. I have no interest in leading, and more voices and ideas are heard that way. Not that we’ve called a meeting in a few centuries.”

“I…apologize. I did not mean—”

“You are avoiding my questions. I don’t find that very fair. I have answered all of yours honestly. Am I not owed the same respect, or do you not do that in Prythian? Is it only High lords that talk over each other?” She smirked, and Azriel couldn’t help return a small smile. It was a habit to go straight into interrogations, he supposed. And if he could really never find this place again, it couldn’t hurt. Maybe she would have advice to carry back to Prythian. He would say the facts, avoid emotion. Make it quick and painless.

“I suppose I’ve been rather rude. Where would you like to start?”

“The shadows. Tell me about them. Are they always there?”

“They’ve followed me since I was a child.”

“Do they hold a purpose?”

“I can travel in them. See and hear things others don’t.”

“So, you were running from something.” She says this so matter of factly it is almost enraging. Callista studies the creature in front of her. His eyes, almost golden seemed so tired. As if he had been tired for far longer than the days he had flown to get here. The despair so evident, she wondered if he had anyone at all. Her words had set something off, “I only say that, because if you can travel in the darkness why fly at all? Does it take a lot of energy?”

Azriel’s shook his head, cursing himself for jumping to conclusions again, “Not anymore. I suppose you aren’t entirely wrong, I wanted to distract myself. So, I just…flew.”

“I would be careful using your gift prematurely here, there is a chance you get lost. And you need at least one more day until you are fully healed to fly the same distance.”

“Has no one really come back?”

“None in my time. There’s always something that they really need to go back to. One had been in a long battle, he was weary…he’d lost so much. He stayed here for years, one day he was suddenly heartbroken about his wife. Swore he would bring his family here, he never came back. He stayed the longest but there have been others. They stay as long as they need and continue their journey. Like you.”

Azriel wanted to argue but she was right. He couldn’t disappear from the night court for long. But this place… something about this place sang to him. He wondered if this is what Callista had meant. The thought of having to leave was becoming more difficult, if there was some kind of enchantment over these lands then Azriel may well have to concede and leave sooner than he’d like. He was likely already wearing down Callista’s hospitality.

“Have you ever left?” Azriel asks, curious of whether she was, in her own way, trapped. His theory was unfortunately, proved right. She bit her lip, trying to figure out the best way to explain her situation.

“For a while, I got so bored I couldn’t seem to care about ever finding this place again. I would fly for miles in one direction, somehow always ending up back here. The people here have had children of their own, and we have expanded but…its like a dome of some kind growing with us but not allowing anyone to escape.” She was right, he could see a faint outline surrounding the sky.

“My home had something similar. A protection spell. Several actually. Kept us hidden for years, only known to those who lived there.”

“By the same person who reads minds, I assume.” When Azriel nodded, she looked towards the sky, with a look he was longing. A freedom so close yet still, out of her reach. “If there is a spell it wasn’t placed by any of us. The elders have mostly passed on, and no one has left me any information. We can only learn so much, many advancements were made by those who happened upon us. Even then, we don’t always have the resources.”

Azriel decided then that he had to go back. He could figure out how to undo the spell, he was sure of it. At the very least he could bring back more books for them to entertain themselves with, he could contribute to their peaceful home. If he could make it back anyway. He enjoyed a good challenge. When Callista looked back at him she smiled sadly, knowing he too would leave, same as all the others before him. They both knew it. A guilt tugged deep at his heart, if he couldn’t return, he would be the same as all the others who had come and gone, she may forget him with time. But he knew he would never be able to forget her… or this place. He wondered if this is what Velaris was to the Archeron sisters.

“Would you really want to know how I can move through shadows?”

“No.” Azriel’s face dropped for a moment, “I want to know why you can move through shadows. That is not something you learn, and I doubt something you’re born with. The magic around you shaped itself that way for a reason, yes?”

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” Try as he might, the words got stuck in his throat. He had his hands clasped in front of him, but now one of his hands began picking at the, pushing back his nail bed. A habit he had long pushed away. His legs shook nervously, and no training could have prepared him for startling at Callista’s touch. Her hand resting gently on his thigh. She smiled, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Azriel forced himself to take a deep breath and recount those horrible early years.

‘Please!’ He screamed into the darkness, ‘Please! It’s too dark!’

‘Please…’ the screams turned into whimpers, ‘I’ll be good. Please…’

‘Please…’ His voice was hoarse by the end of the day. Close to no sound coming out. The following days would be him curled into a ball humming to pass the time.

Then his weekly day of freedom came. His moths arms almost crushing him in an embrace. He begged for her to let him stay. Pleaded for her to run away with him. He had to be dragged away at the end of day, the following day he would worry about possible claw marks on his mothers arms. He was always thankful for their ability to heal quickly if only for that.

The cycle repeated. On and on for years. His pleas went unheard to everyone except himself. His voice bounced of the walls and eventually even his whispers that reverberated back sounded crystal clear. His eyes grew adjusted to the dark, making out every chip on the wall, every groove. An ability others would always be wary of. He didn’t mind, it kept him safe. kept him from feeling the almost endless pit of loneliness and despair. The singular hour he would be allowed out for a meal was often forgotten, but never long enough to let him waste away. No, he would live a long life, his stepmother would ensure that, a long and miserable life.

If they came and got him out it would be at the same time without fail, he could count the seconds of every day and know immediately whether or not he would be allowed to see the sky, the sun, eat whatever scraps they served him. So, when he was blinded nearly an hour earlier than normal he knew it couldn’t be good. His brothers had planned it out so perfectly. The light, unexpected at this time, blinded him, and they all knew the two older boys were stronger, never knowing a day without a full belly. One forced him down onto the ground, the other quickly throwing oil in his direction. Lack of training or not, Azriel had the mind to know he needed to protect himself. His reflexes fast enough to shield his face.

The he heard the match strike and the smell of burning flesh lingered in the room for weeks. At eight years old, a part of him hoping the fire would finish the job. But someone cared enough to put the fire out. Some guard who pitied what they were doing to the child. A child who should have been learning how to fight, how to fly. He had a full day out to recover, his hands now always holding a reminder of where he stood in. He held no hope he wouldn’t be thrown back into his dungeon. But for the following week, at least he got some better food. This incident caused him to try and remain hidden. No matter who was opening the door he focused his entire being on being undetected, and eventually he began to blend into the darkness. He realized his anility to move within the shadows, panicking a few guards into thinking he’d escaped and then suddenly reappearing behind them. He kept silent about this until he was thrown into the Illyrian camp. It became a tool used to not discard him, to continue training him. And he had trained well.

He learned to defend himself. He was sought out by Cassian and Rhysand, at first curious of his abilities and soon after for fighting practice. His memory was foggy on how eventually they all agreed to remain allies, then friends, and eventually brothers. The wars they had fought, the battles they would have to fight…

Had he been foolish to think his friendship would be anything more than a convenient alliance. He knew his ability made him valuable, he didn’t want to let it define him. As much as he tried to rationalize it, Azriel couldn’t help feel as if Rhysand had chosen Lucien over himself. An alliance over his “brother.” He shouldn’t feel this way at all, Rhys was right, everything was in a delicate balance right now. Still, Azriel couldn’t release the hurt, the resentment that had grown in him until he collapsed here. He flinched at the sudden touch, frozen at the hands intertwining themselves with his own. He hated pity. He wanted to pull away but instead he found himself returning the gentle squeeze.

“I could remove them.”

“What?”

“Your scars. I quite like them actually, but I can remove them if it’s something you want.”

“How?”

“I’m not the only one who feels trapped here, nor the only one who has tried to escape. There was a fire. Someone felt death was a better option than an eternal bubble of isolation from the rest of the world. The trees were so bare then…” Her eyes seem to glaze over the memory, as if she remembers an entirely different forest than the one they sit in now.

“Everyone was working to control it, but the damage was done. Many of us didn’t want the reminders of what the fire had taken. For the following years everyone focused on learning and perfecting different kinds of magic; healing, elemental, conjuring, protection.” She chuckles dryly, “All that learning and we still cant figure out how to escape.”

“It helps with ignoring the pain.” He thinks out loud

“Yes. I lost my father then. Got several burns myself trying to drag him out.”

“And you got rid of them?”

“No.” She released his hand and waved it on her opposing arm, the burn marks appearing immediately after her hand passed, it seemed to stretch across her entire arm, like tree roots stretching up to her neck. “ I got off fairly easy. Its just this arm. I had thrown my body over my father once we were out of harms way and shielded my face. They found passed out with my arm and a lot of my hair singed off.”

“I thought you had said you could get rid of it.”

“It used to be worse believe it or not. Had scars on parts of my face and neck, so when we figured out a salve for it I immediately slathered it on those parts first. I ended up regretting it. I only hide my arm so others aren’t so uncomfortable. No one likes to think about those times.”

It was his turn to not pity her. He became even more determined to be able to return. To find his way back. He could technically try and take her with him when he traveled but he only had one day left. Certainly not long enough for her to trust him.

“I’ll keep them.” Was all he could say, he hated the scars but they had reminded him of how far he’d come from those awful years.

“Good.” She waved away the scars and stood up, “It will be dark soon. Feel free to rest some more before you leave. I will ask Aurora and Venia to bring up some more food. Thank you for letting me get to know you a bit more.”

The shadows around him began whispering, Azriel could not tell if it was warning or not. One, she still had no idea what his name was, and two for the first time since he was a child, he was not able to see her glamour. She had told him how many of the people here had studied magic intensely, but even then she had underplayed it. These people would undoubtedly be useful in the war, but their numbers were small. Most courts would rather them all be dead than give another court even more unnecessary power. Azriel would never be able to reveal this location, but unfortunately his High Lord had the ability to drag it out of him no matter how unwilling he would be. His best chance would be Feyre, but ultimately she was loyal to her mate, maybe with enough guilt she would at least tell him to not invade his thoughts. Maybe the fae here would have the ability to make some sort of mental shield or him, or at the very least teach him how to make one himself. He would not give these people up. He flew back in the room he woke up in and decided to try and rest.

Callista gently nudged him, Azriel shot up. He should have heard her come up, been warned she was coming up. Were his own abilities weakening while he was here?

“Sorry, I didn’t want the food to go cold.”

“Its fine. I apologize for being so on edge.”

“You’re in a strange place, far from home. Its normal for you to be more guarded.” Guarded as he may be, he still felt more at peace than he had in months. He had been silent, brooding for an entire year. Claiming to be busy with his duties to Rhys. He had maintained normalcy with Cassian and Nesta but that was about as much as he could manage. He finally felt like he could breathe here. Not so restricted by the formalities he would have been forced to placate during the solstice. He would not be able to stay away for much longer. He would need to head back, assure Feyre everything was fine, assure Rhys that he was only doing as he was told. Continue following instructions. Nyx’s birth was plenty of reason for the Night Court to maintain diplomacy, but it wouldn’t hold out forever. The courts were patient, Amarantha waited ages to win Tamlin over, things had been mostly quiet but they would not remain that way forever. And he couldn’t risk the other’s lives over a petty dispute. He had to remember his place, and his place was an Illyrian bastard who got lucky.

Callista stared at the anguished soul before her, desperately wanting to comfort him. She had already pushed to much in asking him to relive his past. She knew even then he had kept his retelling brief. Whatever was plaguing him seemed to chipping away his own health. He’d healed miraculously quickly with the salves and medicine they had placed on his wings for them to heal. She wondered if whatever healing magic was inside of was the only holding him together most days, surely most people that went through even half of the mistreatment he had would have broken, turned cruel. This man was just…guarded.

Azriel blinks and finds her staring, “Is everything alright?”

“You just seemed troubled. Do you have to leave soon?”

“Unfortunately, I have to admit you were right. I do have to leave soon, I worry in the worst of circumstances others could find this place. You can clearly control magic to a degree even I cannot see through. There are people who would hurt the people here to even get a sliver of it.”

“It is nothing for you to be concerned over.” Callista’s sudden sharp tone takes him by surprise, not knowing his concern for them was making it harder for her to deny any feelings of amicability. She enjoyed his company, and that was dangerous for someone who could never leave her forested prison, and who likely never be able to meet with again. She’d learned early on to never get too attached to those who stumbled into her home. It always ended with disappointment. But it had never felt like this before.

“Perhaps not, but it should concern you. Does anyone here have anything they could do to put a shield of sorts on my mind. I don’t think Rhysand would dig too deep but I don’t want to take any chances. Please, for my own peace of my mind.” Azriel would never be able to live with himself if something happened to Callista because of him. And her people had suffered enough. Callista softened at his genuine concern.

“I can think of something that may work. But I should discuss it with some of the elders. They have all specialized in very specific magic I can only do so much. Please stay here, eat. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Will you join me? I’d like to go with you.” He had to admit to himself that if he was going to leave he wanted to see more of this place. And he had no interest in being alone any longer, he wanted company, her company.

“Of course.” They continued learning about the others lives. Azriel admitted why he decided to fly so long he put himself at risk. How the one who he thought he was in love with continued to disregard him, how he felt constantly used but could never blame her. How when he finally felt like he could move on, he was immediately forbidden from having any communication with. Callista became aware of how serious things were in his realm, it was no wonder he worried it would reach them. She decided she wasn’t fond of his friends at all, his retelling of his life being miserable at camp until the others conceded into an alliance infuriated her. He told her how he had always hated what he was born into, how he hated almost all of his kind. She didn’t want to agree but the hurt they were encouraged to enforce on another was completely barbarian to her.

“Are you alright?”

“You speak about these things as if they are completely normal experiences, I admit I feel… sad for the hand you were dealt. You’ve done quite a bit for others,” she says thinking about Mor and some of the nymphs he saved. “You should be proud. I feel honored to have met you.”

Azriel smirked, she was right in a sense. Her words made him feel, warm? He told himself, it was nothing. He was surely redirecting everything he wanted Mor to feel, and what he believed he should for Elain with her. And he could never do that to her, “Does this mean you’re ready to know my name. I mean wouldn’t you want to know the name of someone you’re so honored to have met?”

“Am I going to regret being nice to you?” She laughed, as she turned to lead him out of the room she tried not to let her disappointment show on her face, “I’ll think about learning it before you go.”

“I could just tell you.” He teased her

“You could, but you would have done that already. Come, I think I know of someone that can help.” She held her hand out, and Azriel only realized he did not hesitate to take it after they landed on the balcony of another concealed home. She called out, “Syra?”

An older woman hobbled out to meet the two of you. “Is this our latest guest?”

“Yes. He has a bit of a possible dilemma,”

“Hm.” Her eye unsettled Azriel. They were a deep set of purple, so dark they were almost ba;cl. He’d never seen a fae age like a human. He wondered if they lived long enough they would eventually get that way. He supposed some of the workers didn’t always appear young but it was something that had never crossed his mind. Guilt crept up inside of him. His entire job was to be aware of everything happening around Prythian, when did he become too good to ignore the lesser fae? Had his powers gone to his head. Callista squeezed his hand, breaking his train of thought. Reassuring him.

He cleared his throat, “I know someone who read into my mind. I’d prefer to keep this place hidden due to some upcoming conflicts. There are a lot of people who would hurt the people here in order to gain a fraction of your magic.”

“They may not be able to take us out of here.”

“Theres some that would die trying.” Azriels mind races to the Autumn Court desperate for power, easily tempted by powers like Amarantha, Hybern, Koshei. Enough power can make even the strongest turn on one another, betray once strong connections.

“Is there anything we can do?” Callista interrupts

“There is always something you can do.” She sits, mixing and grinding various kinds of flowers and herbs hes never seen. A few liquids that look like a mix of starlight and fire. They both hear her mutter something gin a language they don’t understand.

“An ancient tongue,” Callista whispers, “She was one of the few who came from some other land before my people were forced to stay here.”

“Do you know it?”

“No. She refuses to tell anyone what it means.”

Azriels on alert, how could they trust this woman? What if she knew exactly what was trapping them here? Was she the one who trapped them? Voices whispered for him to hush. The shadows reacted similarly to when he would speak to Gwyn. Whoever this woman was, apparently the shadows didn’t perceive her as a threat. If anything they danced around her eagerly, as they were impatient for her to finish with whatever she was making.

“It is ready. I need something from you Callista.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Something to hold this.” The words were slurred. The womans eyes glazed. It was as if she wasn’t fully there but Callista seemed to understand. She pulled a necklace over her head gently, a thin gold chain with a circular pendant.

“What are you doing?” Azriel asked, panicked.

“Trust me.”

Syra took the chain and threw it in the mixture. When she pulled it out, the clear jewel in the circular pendant turned black as night. A shaky hand held it out, her eyes returning to its previous state. “You will wear this.”

“I—” Azriel was stuck on what to say. Should he thank her? Refuse the necklace that belonged to Callista? Be wary of whatever effects the necklace may have? “I cant take this. This isn’t mine.”

“It is only a necklace. Think of it as a parting gift. Something to establish trust or whatever it is you need to explain it. Gesture of good will.” She shrugs. When she sees Azriel’s concern she once squeezes his hand, “I have plenty more just like it.”

“My arm tires, are you going to take the necklace or not.” Azriel finally looks away unable to have read Callista’s face. To figure out whether this is of any importance to her. He grabs the necklace with as much care as he can manage. Syra begins to explain, “When you have this on any nonphysical magic will cease to affect you. Including your friend’s mind reading. Your own gifts shouldn’t be affected. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe.”

“How do you know?” Azriel looked at the older fae’s deep violet eyes. She smiled wryly.

“I simply do.”

Azriel nods, “Thank you.”

He turns to Callista who quickly places the necklaces over him, tucking it into his shirt. “I wish you the best.” She says as she gently taps where the amulet rested.

“I will be back. I’ll figure out how to come back.” He turns to Syra who he can feel studying him, “I will make it up to the both of you.”

“You will not see me again.” The old lady waves him off and he chuckles dryly.

Azriel tries to find the words for the various different emotions bubbling inside him. Callista stops him from saying anything, only echoing her last sentiments. “Best of luck, safe travels.”

She takes a couple steps back, making an effort not to show the jealousy and hurt she feels etching itself in her heart. He smiles, a mischievous smirk growing, “You should know. Its Azriel.”

Callista blinks, not expecting him to say anything more, “W-what?”

“My name. Its Azriel.”

Her face only shows a faint smile as Azriel can only bow his head before easily blending into the shadows of the dimly lit room. Though he had warned her of his ability it was still shocking to see him disappear so easily, mesmerizing. She told herself this was inevitable, that no one ever stays forever. It was wise to have not gotten attached. And while she wouldn’t admit it, it was hard to not be glad to know his name. His departure seemed to steal some of the warmth from the room. She wondered how long it would take him to travel that way. If he maybe could make it back. No one ever had the ability to travel like that.

“You worry too much child, you will see him again soon.”

“Syra, you said so yourself that we wouldn’t be seeing him again.”

“I will not be seeing him again.” She hobbled back to her bed, “You. You will see him soon enough.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

➽───────────────❥

He took a sharp inhale of breath as he arrived at the house of wind. At the training area he had often helped Nesta, Gwyn and Emery. Did he mean to come here? He was barely able to take a few steps as he is almost immediately he is nearly tackled by Nesta.

“You’re back!”

“I am.” He looks around, noticing the lack of snowfall. He remembers Callista’s warning, “How long has it been?”

“You don’t know?” When he shakes his head, Nesta worries of where exactly hes been, “Its been almost three months.”

“That’s…impossible.” How long was he asleep? Did he forget how many days he had been there? How could he forget anything?

Almost immediately everyone had winnowed or flown in. They were all talking at him but he was still getting his bearings. Eventually Amren makes her voice cut through the crowd, “So are you going to tell us where you were?”

“I just remember flying to look for more possible allies.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mor asked

Because I was upset, he thought. “I thought I had. I wasn’t in the mood for another winter solstice at the time.”

He can feel certain faces drop: Elain, Rhysand. He could see the rest of them looking or glaring at the two. Mor tries to lighten the mood again, giving him a hug he doesn’t return, “Well it wasn’t the same without you, we can celebrate late. Right?”

She asks everyone else but Azriel is the one to respond, “No. That’s all right. I think I just need to rest. Nesta can I use a room here?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Azriel nods but he feels numb…empty. When he finally does sleep he think about Callista. Her face, her smile, her scent… He was half tempted to see if he could make it back, but moreso was determined to go back with a kind of solution first.

“Somethings off.” Amren states

“He could just be tired.” Elain tried

“No, shes right.” Rhysand interjects, “Wherever he went, I cant read him. At all. I didn’t even know he had come back. Couldn’t tell.”

“Well, maybe hes practiced blocking you.” Nesta moves her head, daring him to challenge her. “Something’s happened, but we don’t need to accuse him of not caring. We’ll just push him away.”

Feyre flinches, knowing exactly what her sister went through after she finally opened up to her in private. Rhysand is aware of what shes feeling, she wouldn’t speak to anyone for weeks when she found out why Nesta had been so down. She would only talk to Nesta and pretend around Nyx. The rest of time she would be in her room crying about not feeling enough for her sister.

“So what do you suggest Nesta?”

“Watch it.” Cassian growled

“Me and Cassian will be here. Its better if don’t all overwhelm him. Can we at least agree on that?” Everyone mumbled an agreement.

“I should talk to him. Just to let him know we’re here.” Mor states

“No. Nesta’s right. He knows he will have people in this house. Leave him alone.” Feyre voice was steady but everyone knew it was a command. Mor eyes seem to flicker with rage but she nodded. Nesta shooed everyone away, and asked the house to get him some food. Cassian was silent, Nesta squeezed his hand. Leading him to their room.

“Did you see it?” She whispered as loudly as she dared

“What?”

“His shadows.” Cassian shook his head, “When Mor approached him… they didn’t go away this time. They grew.”

➽───────────────❥

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x you #azriel x oc

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ronearoundblindly · 9 months

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Autumn in a blanket burrito on the sofa late night waiting for steve to come back from a mission he sees autumn wrapped like a burrito slight shuffling missing him 🥹

Yeah, so I'm having some real ups and downs lately. Scrolled through a bunch of old asks to spark some joy and creativity, and this one caught my eye. No one's asked about Autumn in almost a year actually. Makes sense, of course, I'd choose a tale from a series buried in the dark of tumblr...but alas, I need this. I need coziness like life didn't fall apart, like life wasn't a huge lie, like any of it mattered. Steve helping a fellow traumatized does that for me 💜. RIGHT--comfort! Here we go. WC 1.8k

Steve Rogers x super soldier!reader

Full-Sized Throw, an Autumn Is Healing short story

Some days, well, some days are bad.

They’re full of memories. They’re full of pain. Most…most are real memories of real pain. Some are unclear.

The compound is quiet while the Team is away. Everyone busies themselves, too flustered to babysit you. It rained all day. You couldn’t go outside, so there’s nothing to do but think.

Was that you or the Soldier? Did the Soldier feel that or did she inflict it? Is this feeling the worst or are more buried?

Real or not, you still feel it.

The pain lingers. It crawls across your skin, and it melts down your spine. It drips like a leaky tap in your brain. Never ending. It just moves. It just hides. But it never leaves.

Loud music in your headphones drowns out the drip-drip, laying down cuts off that sickening flow along your back, and blankets—usually four of them, wound over every inch of your body—stop the vicious and incessant flutter of fear.

Hydra won’t stop. Agents will come for you.

But…what if…

What if Hydra isn’t coming? What if they wrote you off as a lost cause? What if you mean nothing to them now? Is that…worse than being hunted?

The only support—the only family, in a sick way—that you’ve known for decades—however many hours, days, or years of them you were awake—is gone. All gone. Maybe they don’t even want you anymore.

Some memories aren’t as bad. Not every moment was hell.

Not all of the guards scowled at you, not all of them leered, and in the absence of overt hatred, you told yourself they as good as smiled. If the look didn’t instill more fear in you, it was a smile. Had to be. You hardly remembered what those looked like anyway. The absence of bad is good, right?

To you, absence is as-good-as.

You pull your top blanket tighter, wriggling your feet in the direction of your swirled, lowest layer.

Absence was as good as kindness, you think. Absence was as good as freedom.

Hydra is absent. You are free. That’s a kindness. It’s their only kindness—to go away, to be gone.

Their absence makes you feel as good as happy. It’s still raining. You’re still in a room. You still need a ‘minder’ to go anywhere, but that’s not as bad as before because sometimes your ‘minder’ is Steve.

Steve is kind. He’s full of kindness and real comfort. You remember those things. He makes memories of them. He helps on bad days, even in his absence. That’s clear.

Steve’s been gone on a mission for however many hours, days, or years though, so Blankets 2 and 3 anchor your torso and hips to the couch for the long haul, just in case.

Rumor has it the Team comes home today, but that’s what the rumor was yesterday, too. Not that anyone really tells you anything since you aren’t on their team and you aren’t their fighter. You aren’t one of them because only Steve looks at you like you’re bathed in sunshine, always. The rest see shadow and darkness, an absence of light, an absence of trust.

Absence still feels kinder than the alternative: the leering, the scowls, the…memories.

The blankets hold you firm while it’s dark outside the window behind the back cushions. The foot throw is a standard, almost scratchy thing that came with your cell (for safety), the hip throw was an upgrade once you moved to this room, this bed’s comforter wraps your torso, and covering your head, shoulders, and arms is a gift from Steve.

He said it was a trade for all the lovely sachets of lavender you put together for him, for all the herbs you grew to spice foods you’re cooking for the first time, for “all the things we don’t know about.”

It’s the fluffiest and softest of the blankets, and it smells like Steve. You snuggle your whole face into—

The elevator dings out in the hall.

Maybe they’re home. Maybe he’s back.

You hear talking, not whispers but not loud enough to understand. Footsteps come all the way up to your closed door…and then jog away.

Was that Steve? Why’d he go? He always visits.

Fabric thickened legs swing off the couch. You don’t even register the release of pressure from your back or the loss of complete encapsulation as the foot throw unfurls onto the floor. It’s a mad shuffle to the door, a peek at the clock.

2:29 AM

Did he think he’d wake you? Doesn’t he know you don’t sleep well when he’s not at the compound? Wouldn’t he—

Knock knock.

His footsteps were muted by your racing thoughts.

“Rosie?” he whispers. “Rosie, you up?”

You weakly respond, a single syllable that’s enough to have Steve opening the door without waiting.

“Hey, I brought you this—“ he looks up your body, which is not at all visible save for your eyes and forehead “—candy…”

Big blue eyes soften, illuminated by a solitary, warm lamp by the door and harsh slices blazing through the hall.

“…to try,” he finishes. “What are you doing? Are you cold? Rose, you gotta tell someone if it’s uncomfortable.” Steve tosses the candy onto the lamp’s table and crosses straight to you, his arms wrapping you a little tighter. “You don’t have to—“

“Always,” you mumble.

He only calls you ‘Rose’ when he’s disappointed, but you never want to disappoint Steve.

After a gentle rub up and down your back, he pulls away, but only enough to see your face, turning you a little until the light hits, his gaze like the sun. The sun does shine on you whenever he’s there.

“What was that?”

“It’s always uncomfortable,” you elaborate, poking your chin over the fleecy muzzle. “I wouldn’t know what to ask for. I—I don’t know what will fix it.”

He smiles; Steve simply smiles at you sweetly. It looks easy and real, not as if he fights it, not as if it’s painful.

“Well,” he starts carefully, “if it can be fixed, we’ll figure it out. But you don’t have to be in here alone and uncomfortable.”

“I was waiting. I missed you.” Your words are quiet enough to test even super soldier hearing. “I…I like the…”

You glance down as a gesture to your burrito form and shrug.

“Yeah? So this helps? Being hugged in blankets?” Steve immediately pulls you back into his chest, musk-saturated t-shirt covering everything your throws don’t, and it’s like a balm to your wounded psyche.

Your mind calms, and your body releases.

You know he’s real. You know he’s present.

Steve makes the absence of pain shock your insides like a drug.

He stays there, pressing against you lightly, hands splayed over your head and hip, and he just breathes for a long time. In and out.

This could go on for however many hours, days, or years he’s willing to stay, and you’d relish every instant.

Since you know he can understand the garbled words, you say into his chest, “how was the mission?”

A big in, a quick out, Steve sighs, and when you look up, there is no smile. The absence means something different, but with this, you can help.

“I know what you need.”

You toss the fluffy throw around him and squeeze the soft, stretchy fabric tight.

Steve’s hands land on yours, keeping you connected skin-to-skin. His shoulders sag a little.

“But I liked that, too. I liked—“ He chuckles before a different kind of shadow falls over his face. His eyes flatten and shy away from you. “I want the hug. I need it, Rosie.”

He almost seems ashamed, and that just won’t do. Not at all. You can’t have your sunshine dim for lack of—you jump right into his arms and cling.

One tiny snort of amusement is all Steve lets out. He buries his head in the soft fabric between you, sighing deeper the harder you hold him, lacing his arms around your waist, unyielding. He won’t let go. He walks you both slowly over to the couch and sits.

“That bad, huh?” you prompt. “You need some lavender?”

His fingers dig in. He doesn’t say anything. He stays quiet while you maneuver your loosened covers to tuck him further.

Maybe he’d like to talk but not talk?

“Lot of rain today,” you whisper, settling against the shared body heat of two enhanced humans. “I bet the lawn flooded.”

There’s something lovely about your body equaling his. Sure, the average person feels warm and alive, but to you—and you hope to Steve—this is a novelty. You two account for a not-insignificant portion of the supers on Earth who run this warm. It feels like matching puzzle pieces to unlock a prize. You feel comforted by being comforting.

Some days are just like that

Steve finally lifts his weary head. “Made the whole ground smell like a creekside. Wet dirt—“ he spins you both to lay flat “—fresh grass—“ he shimmies to make you relax your weight onto him, your full weight “—open air.”

A long, long out. When you peek above your head, his eyes are closed. Steve looks peaceful as he mutters.

“Took my boots off in my room, they were so muddy. I’ll take you out to check the garden,” he trails off, “tomorrow…”

His hold on you is still tight but not restrictive, so you shift, your arms crossed beneath your chin, watching him as the absence of worry spreads through the room.

You tap his sternum playfully. “You don’t have to be out there alone and uncomfortable either. I’m right here.”

Steve smirks lazily, barely moving. “I know, Rosie.”

He probably doesn’t know; you doubt he can fathom what you would give to make him never feel how you did today. He deserves all the comfort, all the kindness, and all the happiness. You don’t ever want to dim his sunlight with your darkness, but that’s a hard thing to predict.

“We’ll get you some blankets of your own,” you offer softly and begin to lean back down.

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, rolling to the side, pinning you between the couch cushions and his body. “Just have to stay close…to fit two…for now.” He nuzzles in, curling and contouring till it’s perfect. You’re cocooned again by four blankets.

That's clear. That's real. This will be a good memory.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling into his chest. “Of course. We can do that.”

The steady, slowing, in and out of his breathing lulls you to sleep, a nice deep sleep, for the first time since however long ago he left.

Some days, well, some days are bad, but they don’t have to end that way.

Stick me in a blanket burrito I'm done 💚 💜 Thank you, anon! Sorry you waited or didn't wait a year for this.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

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