#I’m too old to stay up past midnight 😂

[mikaelsrose]

one: let's meet again, for the first time

Pairing: currently ambiguous, f!MC (Niamh) x Cal, f!MC (Niamh) x (m!OC) Xander

Book: Nightbound

Word count: 3450

Rating: T

Warnings: cursing, mention of drugs

Category: (according to choices) horror; short-series, supernatural, romance

A/n: I'm not sure how my brain works and I don't think I want to find out, but this was first inspired by toss a coin to a witcher, but here we are. Bon appétit. 

I’ve teased about writing it for years (literally), so I’m just as surprised as those of you who remember me talking about it, that I’m actually publishing it 😂

Quick introduction:

Initially, Niamh stayed in NOLA for a few months but eventually left

Throughout the events of the book, Niamh and Cal did not romance each other, but they had a short-lived fling several weeks after the fight with Thomas

By any means, I do not promise to be faithful to the original in terms of... anything. If something is not as it was in the book, it's because I deliberately changed it. 

Setting: a year after the events of Nightbound

Tag list: @ladylamrian @lazypartridge @ginnyginsposts @brycesgirl @cashweasel @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations (if you wish to be added or taken off the list, dm me! as usual, sorry if I forgot about someone)

pinterest boards for the vibes: niamh | cal | xander | crystaval / lamrian

Nothing can prepare you for grief. There is no handbook of conduct, and it does not get easier the second time. 

Until forced to spend hours by herself in a spacious chamber, Niamh never thought of her as a survivor or as bearing any trauma. It was half past midnight by New Orleans’ time, the air was heavy and suffocating despite the downpour outside. She's been in Crystaval for over a year, learning the ways of conduct, history, military strategy and magic when despite Lady Avyanna’s motto of nipping one’s emotions in the bud, Niamh fell into panic. She always thought that grief only concerned those who lost someone dear to them, but having spent many hours in isolation she realised that she was grieving her old life, the one she was ready to leave behind before agreeing to stay in Crystaval.

"My Lady, a visitor has arrived."

She nodded almost imperceptibly as her eyes continued to observe the reflection in the mirror. A young woman was staring back at her, clothed in luxurious fabric, wearing a thousand-year-old jewellery, one that created the impression of a powerful, steady leader. 

Straightening her back, Niamh rose up, and followed her aide towards the Grand Hall.

“Is everything ready for the announcement?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Who is the guest?”

“A young man from your birth realm. A nighthunter. He said the matter is urgent.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but her face remained impassive. The clicking of her heels reverberated in the spacious hall, blending with the happy chirping of the dwarf kingfishers, birds native to Crystaval, until a high-pitched ringing forced her to stop and lean against the wall. Alerted, Xander scanned the surroundings and, having found nobody around, placed a hand on Niamh’s back. “Breathe, Nia,” he said softly, stroking her skin.

The sense of duty threatened to blow his chest apart. Xander knew that this condition was unusual, possibly life-threatening, thus could not be taken lightly; however, Niamh made it very clear that this should stay between them. Since he was subordinate to her and not the Queen, Xander was obliged to follow the orders of the heiress to the throne.

Niamh bit her lip when the ringing became louder, clouding her mind and making her lose her balance. 

“We should tell someone about this, it’s potentially dangerous and happens too frequently lately,” Xander murmured while delicately wiping the golden tears off her cheeks. 

“Don’t you dare,” she threatened. “I have it under control.”

Closing her eyes, Niamh took a couple of deep breaths, waiting for her heartbeat to slow down. When she opened her eyes, she found Xander piercing her with his gaze.

“Let’s go.”

Familiar laughter echoed in the spacious room.

“What brings you to Crystaval?” 

“What the actual fuck, Niamh?”

The royal guards eyed the nighthunter, looking alerted, but the blonde did not pay them any attention. Xander stepped closer, his hand already on the hilt of his dagger. Noticing the mobilisation, Niamh intervened: “At ease, he's a friend. Why don’t we step outside?”

In comparison to Crystaval, Lamrian's gardens were mundane, stale, boring even. The water had a purplish tint, the sky was adorned with two suns—Halcyona, the crimson giant, and Eirele, a smaller one, yet still bigger than Earth’s sun was slightly peachy. The scarce clouds were pink, and the air smelled of the lush greenery surrounding them. Nik found himself fascinated by the landscape, especially because he’s never been allowed to Crystaval, but his eyes never left Niamh's silhouette. 

“You said you were coming back home,” Nik started, fumbling with his leather glove.

“This is my home.”

“Don't play dumb, rookie, you know damn well what I mean. All of a sudden, you decided to become, what, a queen? How come no one in the supernatural world knew about this? How is it even possible? Elric wasn't exactly that much of a big shot."

Niamh sighed quietly and began smoothing out her baby blue dress in an attempt to hide the trembling of her hands. “The throne is rightfully mine, but no, I am not a queen yet. Since Lady Thalissa preferred to remain in the colony, it became my duty to care for the folk of Crystaval as well as maintain peace among all seven realms,” she looked up and was immediately met with a pair of piercing grey eyes. “The kind fae of the Lavender City were asked to keep the new administration a secret until told otherwise, as we did not want unfit creatures knowing the authority was weak and unstable. Soon, the news will spread. I have gone through extensive teachings of Sir Xander about the history, politics, and militarization, as well as Lady Avyanna's magical training. Tomorrow, we’ll issue a statement of Crystaval’s readiness to aid other realms should they need it.” 

Nik chuckled at the ridiculousness of this situation and averted his gaze, letting it fall on a peculiar looking plant, transforming right in front of his eyes. The flower’s petals were similar to regular lilies in shape, yet its colour differed from what Nik knew back from his realm. The pitch black of the petals was brought out by the elongated, luminescent cyan stamen, and the longer he looked, the more drawn into them he was.

“Don’t stare for too long, or you’ll hallucinate for several days,” Niamh warned. The nighthunter reluctantly obeyed. “Cyan Lily Regina, the hidden treasure of the realm. These stamens hide the dose of cyanide that could easily kill entire kingdoms. The most dangerous poison in all seven realms.”

Nik coughed. “I assume Sir Xander is the one watching me like a hawk?”

“Yes. He’s the royal advisor and the head of the army, you can trust him.”

“Sure I can,” Nik mumbled mockingly and lowered his voice to make Xander’s eavesdropping job much harder. “Niamh, what actually happened?” 

“Queen Nymeria of Crystaval visited me in a vision two weeks after I left and requested that I visit her urgently. During the meeting, she explained that my father was her son, fourth in line to the throne. The rest of her children died under the attack of Svarvali tribes two days before she contacted me, which made me the last rightful heiress.”

“Elric must've been the long-lost child, I suppose,” Nik commented, gathering his thoughts. Ever since it was brought to his attention that Niamh might have indeed resided in either Lamrian or Crystaval, he began studying the fae’s politics, history, developing an unhealthy obsession with the royal bloodline. He noticed discrepancies within the official family tree, and according to his research, at least one heir was removed from the official data. 

He made a mental note to update his notes. His gaze kept coming back to the flower.

“Her Majesty is approaching her final days. Having in mind the balance of all the realms, Lady Fate warned the Queen that she must train the heir and since I had demonstrated magical abilities, I was considered a prospective heiress immediately. Now I serve as the Queen's First Lady. With the aid of the royal advisors, I carry out Her Majesty's duties as she is no longer able to perform them. May I ask what brought you here?” Niamh resumed. 

Nik squared his shoulders and sighed heavily as his fingers caressed the engraved hilt of his dagger.

“You ain't gonna like it, I'm afraid,” he admitted. “Something’s goin’ on in the bayou, it’s messing with the pack's minds," Nik continued, averting his gaze when Niamh finally looked at him. He cleared his throat. "They're nervous, angry—well, angrier than usual. Kinda hard to explain. They say they can hear the voices of their dead loved ones convincing them to give in to their primal needs, to kill, slaughter. Embrace the wolf, or some bullshit. One of them attacked a witch coven last night. They barely made it out alive."

Niamh frowned. "You came all the way here to bother the Queen about a vengeful evil spirit? It's a good thing you met me instead."

“I’ve checked every position in the bestiary, so trust me when I say it ain't no evil spirit, rook— Niamh. It's been going on for weeks, people keep disappearing and the pack's becoming a real pain in the ass, so you might wanna move your royal ass to New Orleans and play Moulder and Scully to figure out what's going on because neither me nor Kathy have a clue how to stop it. Besides, I had a hunch I might find you here.”

“You had no way of knowing that.”

“You’re underestimating my detective abilities.”

"Do you mean pestering Lady Fate for information for so long that she either gives it to you or curses you?" Niamh raised her eyebrow, smiling softly, and Nik averted his gaze yet again. She noticed a fresh scar on the left side of his face, which he skilfully hid until now. "What happened?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Your local werewolf leader wasn't a fan of my interrogation techniques."

"Octavia isn't a fan of you as far as I remember. She probably just waited for an occasion."

His brows knitted. "Last I checked, Octavia got her ass beaten during the competition. She was licking her wounds for weeks."

"Competition?"

"Ain't you supposed to know all that's hanging in our realm?"

Niamh blushed. Indeed, she was supposed to know that, and to a great extent she did—she just didn't want to receive any updates on the NOLA werewolf pack. 

Quickly realising his mistake, Nik added: 

"There were two candidates and neither wanted to step down, so according to some kind of their law they had to fight for the position. Cal spared her life, which was apparently very controversial, but yeah, he won anyway."

"Cal never wanted to be the Alpha, why did he change his mind?"

He shrugged and pointed towards the scar with his finger. "Take it up with him, we ain't on the best terms."

"Very well," she agreed, breaking eye contact. "Give me fifteen minutes."

“I hate portals,” Nik mumbled and took a look around. “You took us to the bayou already, great, it’ll save us some time.”

Niamh took a look around at the familiar wooden houses, the lake she used to watch every evening as Cal promised her to see fairies there, and the common bonfire area they used to spend many nights by. Her mouth felt dry at the thought of meeting him again. 

“Alrighty, so a little heads-up—the chick you see next to Cal is Vivian, his unbearable, sassy girlfriend or whatever they call it. A real bitch, if you ask me, embodies everything I hate 'bout werewolves. Massive pain in the ass, too.”

Niamh nodded, ignoring the pinch in her chest at the sight of Cal’s arm around the woman’s waist. You have no right to feel that way, she reminded herself as they made their way towards the small congregation of men. Pack meeting. She remembered how Cal would ask her to stay home until he came back from those meetings, so she wouldn't accidentally interrupt. Pack meetings were in a way sacred to the participants, but the blond nighthunter paid little attention to that detail. Following him, Niamh soon stood in front of the pack leader, giving a stern look to a wolf next to him, ready to pounce on her. Suddenly changing his mind, he backed down and others followed suit. 

Nik cleared his throat. "See, I brought in help."

Holding his gaze turned out to be one of the hardest tasks she’s ever been granted. She felt her eyelids twitch and hands shake, her brain was telling her to look away and run, but as a representative of Crystaval on official business that was not an option she could use. Straightening her back, she tightened her jaw and assumed an impassive expression. Cal could hear the pounding of her heart, she knew that. There was no fooling him. However, having observed him for a few weeks, she also knew how to read him, thus it was easy for her to see his confusion and the perplexed look on his face.   

"How the hell is she going to help?" 

Nik's gloved hand flipped Niamh’s long hair onto her back, revealing a string of golden runes on the side of her neck, old-nymetic runes that every supernatural creature knew about and was taught to respect. The runes said as follows: a high-ranking Crystaval royal, under royal guard's protection, powerful magic wielder, dragon protector. Child of the storm. And an augury rune, mysterious and portentous. 

Crystaval royals were considered a very specific, hermetic group. They were those who held true power and ruled the supernatural world in all seven realms, those whose power far exceeded even the Fate's. Extensive training and versatile knowledge made them the most skilled, knowledgeable magic wielders in the universe. Hardly ever they were to leave Crystaval so as not to meddle in ordinary affairs, all of them marked with a person specific number of ancient golden runes, unforgeable, known to everyone. 

Cal remembered his mother telling him not to ever cross people with golden runes, especially those with the augury rune. He never learned what it meant, but seeing one on his ex-girlfriend’s neck worried him.

Vivian spoke up. "Do you expect us to bow? Cause wolves don't do that, especially not in front of half-bloods."

Nik's brows perked up in surprise, yet he couldn't contain a mocking chuckle. "Feisty. And stupid."

"Viv," Cal warned, growling deep in his chest, his grip tightening on her hip.

"I don't care for your bows," Niamh responded calmly, her gaze pining the woman in front of her. "However, be advised who you're speaking to, as the next time I’ll order my guard to have your head impaled and exhibited as a warning."

The coolness and self-confidence in her voice made Nik's heart skip a beat in the most negative sense of the word. Sensing the threat, Vivian, unwillingly, bowed her head a little in a gesture of apology. Cal spoke up.

"So I assume you're here about Mason. We already interrogated him, he doesn't remember much more than I've told you over the phone," he addressed Nik. "I'm afraid you came here in vain."

"That remains to be seen, our neighbourhood fae queen-to-be appears to have some new powers to show off."

"Queen?"

In her head, she punched Nik in the arm with all her might. In reality, though, her eyes shyly met Cal's and despite the sudden urge to run at the familiar warmth, she spoke up.

"Yes, Queen Nymeria's journey in the far realm is coming to an end, and I was appointed her successor."

Cal choked down the urge to say "the hell?" hearing the manner of her speech. Niamh seemed brainwashed, perhaps indeed trained to become one of the most powerful figures in the supernatural world. It wasn't the same person he woke up to every morning last year. 

"Listen, it's a mystery to me too, but we have more pressing matters on our hands now, don't we?"

Cal nodded. The pack meeting was rescheduled, and he led his guests toward a small wooden cabin, hidden deeper in the forest. Mason let them in wordlessly.

Niamh observed Mason while him, Nik, and Cal gave an account of the events of the night when he "lost control" as he called it. Finally, she addressed her companions. "Isn't it similar to the case of Jimmy?"

"Jimbo," Nik corrected her. "I mean, kinda, but not entirely. Jimbo, as it turned out, was poisoned and with him being a werewolf it didn't kill him but made him go feral. Mason was aggressive, but he kept mentioning voices."

"He got into a fight with several other pack members and mauled them pretty badly, but he was still able to obey me. I'm no expert on spells and witchcraft, but could it be that? We do have beef with another pack and several witches, maybe they decided to take revenge?"

Niamh shook her head. "I would feel it. There's no magic involved. Are you sure it's not some illegal substances from a new source?" she addressed the man on the sofa. 

He looked up at her, shyly, unsure how he should show her respect. "I don't use, Lady." 

Having pondered over the possibility of using magic on him long enough, Niamh proposed going through the werewolf's memories "It's not going to be comfortable, but I need you to stay as relaxed as possible and don't block your memories," she instructed, taking a seat on the armchair next to him. He nodded. 

Cal nudged the nighthunter on his right, focused on polishing his pocket knife. Niamh kept instructing the werewolf in the other room. "Do you feel it?" 

"Feel what?"

"The power she holds. It's… I've never felt anything like this. It makes you obey her even, the air feels different around her."

"What about last year?"

"Not to that extent. You can easily tell she's from Crystaval now."

Nik hummed, thinking of Cal’s words. "Fascinating," he muttered, watching one of the runes on her neck shimmer as she worked her magic on Mason. Leaning across the door frame with his hands crossed on his chest, Cal observed it as well, trying to wrap his head around the fact of how much she has changed in a year. "Well?"

"There's nothing,” she said, calmly, taking her time with the answer. Her hand touched Mason’s cheek as if in a soothing gesture.

"So maybe magic after all?" Cal suggested.

"No, there's nothing. Absolutely no recollection of that day. That's dark sorcery. You must have made enemies with someone more important than a local witch coven, Cal."

Take it easy today, she addressed the werewolf and exited his house. Cal followed.

"Should I call you your majesty now?"

"Not yet."

Taking his place next to her, the werewolf folded his arms. 

"Nik told me you're the Alpha now. How come? The last time we saw each other, you wanted to leave this place and lead a quiet, peaceful life."

"A lot has changed since you ran away."

She turned her head to the other side, pretending to be looking at a passing dog. Of course, he held a grudge, she would as well. She left for no apparent reason. Cal sighed.

"The pack needed a strong leader. We've been having some issues with the Texas pack, and Octavia would just escalate the conflict to the point of a war."

"What do they want from you?"

"Beats me," he crossed his arms on his chest. "They're just sending threats for now. No demands."

“There’s something about him that just doesn’t sit right with me,” Nik interrupted, closing the front door. “You sure didn’t see anything suspicious?”

“No. How did you know how to find me? The court made sure the information would not get out until the right time."

"Yeah, believe me, I've noticed. Your secrecy cost me another round of stripping for the Fate and almost getting cursed, but she budged."

"Why were you looking for me?"

"Cause of Cal, obviously. He said your disappearance was weird, that your phone number no longer existed, and your mother said she hasn't seen you in months. Kristin was surprised as well. It got me thinking you might've fled to Lamrian, but it looks like you managed to made enemies there," he nudged her shoulder playfully. "Come on, spill, what'd you do to poor Thalissa?"

Cal looked up at her, his interest piqued. 

"She believes I'm unworthy of taking my father’s rightful place on the Crystaval throne," she shrugged. "Don't believe in Lamrian's mushy sweet facade, Nik. Those who live there are expatriates from Crystaval, often times criminals who found refuge in Lamrian, which is basically n outlaw colony. Thalissa's protective domes aren't for bloodwraiths, they're for Crystaval's officials."

"What about Garrus?"

"As far as I know, he's free to come back."

"Does he know that? Cause he sure doesn't seem to."

"We've notified him several times. It was the first decree I issued when I gained influence."

Nik sighed heavily, looking around the bayou in thought. “Can we talk about this over a drink or is your curfew up?”

[facultyloungecosplay]

Happy birthday, Oz!! I hope you have yourself a relaxing one and treat yourself! 💚

｡◕‿◕｡💕

Why, thank you, friend! We had a lovely party and now it’s just me, Qrow, Oob, and Tiger, settled in for funny movies before a reasonable bedtime. All around a very nice birthday. 💚

[writtenwhalienreads]

this fic is an absolute gem and i don’t think i can find the words to really explain how it makes me feel in detail, but i’m going to try. in short, it feels like a warm, comforting hug after a really shit day, one that melts away the worries and leaves me feeling happy ❤️

the start is so well written that it’s easy to get immersed in the atmosphere, especially when she sees the bar from across the street, and then the whole bumping into old classmates is such a perfect vibe for the holidays. 

trevor is annoying LOL, especially when he sits next to her, and he also seems kinda clueless, like the dumb jock kinda guy. but then hoseok comes and i love this:

“Being a nurse is important,” Hoseok says, sort of glaring at Trevor. The dumbass is implied.

especially that last line 😂 also, oc’s short sassy responses, love it too. then when they go up to the roof, it’s easily my favourite part as they both just touch on their pasts -- it’s super nostalgic and i love how they respond to each other with just the right amount of caution, like they’re so easy to talk to.  + the humour between them is so cute as well, especially when he admits that he paid the stripper prom date 😂

then the storytelling in parentheses in line with the present is just so perfect! the placement of each one makes it so real to see how the love would grow between them 🥺 like hoseok asking her to stay, and then the new years kiss, agh it’s just so perfect! even the tiniest detail like it not being at midnight -- it’s just so real! and this line:

“...and I like being the person who gets to take care of you.” Hoseok takes a deep breath. “It isn’t complicated.”

it makes me swooooon 🥰🥰🥰🥰 and literally everything that comes after -- the “please tell me you like me too” + “wanted to kiss you for so long” + oc’s dazed but smooth responses “i thought you were gonna kiss me”.. LOVE IT! thank you so much for writing! 💘

All I Want for Thanksgiving | jhs |

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre/au: Thanksgiving fic, everyone is trying to figure their shit out!au

Words: 6.4k

Tags: angst, SAD backstories, and a very happy ending. If you want to know the specifics of the sad backstories, scroll to the bottom for the end note after the x’s.  ao3 has such an easy way to give detailed spoilers of difficult topics, so I wanted to do the same here.

a/n: Whatever you celebrate this time of year, I hope you are happy and well-cared for and not spending the holidays with people you would rather not. If you are, hold on and be kind to yourself.

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