#astrids fic

[mahoganyrust]

I missed my wife.

Hiccup won in life.

(Also updated my com stuff link in bio my dears)

[r3leee]

having thoughts rn…

needy!billie who just can’t seem to keep her hands off you at the hotel.

you in her lap, sighing softly as she’s sucking beautiful purple hickeys into the soft skin of your neck

“shh…gotta stay quiet, baby, right?” she nodded towards the bathroom.

for this business trip, you booked a connected room for you two and finneas. his bathroom’s shower was under maintenance, so he was using yours.

you nodded as she whispered “good,” then continued attacking your neck. her hand eventually came up to your mouth. “keep your mouth shut or i’m stopping.”

[essektheylyss]

I do keep coming back to the thought that there is no reason to have stopped to see Astrid before going to Aeor if the point wasn't to try to recruit her for chaperone duties. It doesn't exactly seem like she's with the Vanguard or she wouldn't be hiding in a smut shop in Zadash.

Please, Astrid, come to Aeor with us. You can take potshots at your ex's new boyfriend the whole time. And he can't even say shit about it, because he's the one who invited you.

[spacenintendogs]

(gushing about deadly nadders and stormfly specfically)

[gebediahhhhhhh]

me on the bus, looking literally dead because I’ve spent half the night reading beetlebabes fanfiction and barely slept

[funkytoesart]

Ch2 | P12 | The Breaking of the Waves [Mermaid Hiccup Au]

Masterpost of Pages | Read on Tapas

hmm, me thinks Hiccup didn't like being sidelined for the past 4.5 years since he last appeared in the comic... or, y'know, the 5 minute convo between Astrid and Eret in-story 😅 Hoping to have ch2 page 13 posted within a week or two if i can!

Comic Summary: Astrid Hofferson has wanted to be a marine biologist since she was a little girl. Finally getting her dream job as an intern at the Barbaric Archipelago Aquarium, she finds things not as they seem and a little more than she expected when she befriends a merman named Hiccup.

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Shadowblumendrei Rec List

This week, we're going with wizard polycules! Here are nine fics that feature Caleb/Essek/Astrid/Eadwulf in some form - some a little cute, a lot that are at least a little angsty, and a good amount of hotness besides. Check them out beneath the cut, and comment and kudos if you like them!

amongst the things left unforgiven by nonwal (63958, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Discussions of suicide; panic attacks

Astrid and Eadwulf keep showing up on Essek's doorstep. Complicated wizard flirting ensues.

Reccer says: The character voices are magnificent and I love the way the relationships are developed. All of them keep trying to out-twisty each other and it's good.

in the light of long-dead things by Anonymous (3426, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Panic Attack

Astrid needs to stop gasping. If she doesn’t, they will be caught, and it will be Wulf who will be beaten instead of her. Wulf who will spend the week alone in the tower, half-frozen with cold. “What – what are you talking about? Who is Caleb?”

Reccer says: Astrid rarely gets comfort in fic, but this was soft and heartbreaking and a great look at what lies beneath the surface

fledgling pledges by Anonymous (3100, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

an attempt is made to court the former Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty

Reccer says: great fun bits of cultural misunderstanding!

the best of you (belongs to me) by quothhh (2525, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Werewolf sex/knotting

ssek returns home smelling of someone else. Astrid and Eadwulf fix it. Set in an au where the scourgers are werewolves and Bren never broke.

Reccer says: Extremely hot werewolf smut. Enjoy!

The Four of Us Are Dying by Defiler_Wyrm (6892, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent

After dinner and too many drinks, Wulf and Astrid invite Caleb and Essek to their bed. They quickly come to regret it

Reccer says: The turn in feelings and vibe part way through is amazing! All the messy feelings are so well portrayed

of the animal saving me by quanshi (burningdarkfire) (2727, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb gets a new cat. It took Wulf a full two weeks longer to catch on than he wanted to admit.

Reccer says: Great fun and fluffy

tell me about despair by hanap (10411, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

In which the new Archmage of Civil Influence, her sole annex, the former Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty, and a weary transmutation professor at Soltryce Academy knit themselves back together, hand in unlovable hand.

Reccer says: This is what I love about the ship- all these damaged people tearing at each other then learning to love again? Yes plz

i'll meet judgement by the hounds by necromanticomedy (yelenavasilyevna) (6553, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

A casual dinner party somehow turns into an 'insane psychosexual foursome'

Reccer says: I think the 'sex that is astrid holding essek at knifepoint and they're both fully dressed' and 'eadwulf being submissive the way a guard dog is submissive' tags sum up why I love this fic so much. They're all a bit fucked up in the best kind of ways

fill me up (don't break my heart) by SandSunSiliceousOoze (7974, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek asks Caleb about fisting. Caleb is more than happy to demonstrate, with Astrid and Wulf as teachers

Reccer says: I love the teacher roleplay with Caleb as the enthusiastic demonstration subject, as well as the amazing dynamic between all of them

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with Hallmark/Romcom Vibes!

[bignostalgias]

gee Astrid, how come you get to have THREE girlfriends

TLOA Astriana by @alkalinefrog! ⚔️✨

+ heathstrid doodle

[astrid-beck]

Do you guys ever think about how Archmage Astrid probably inherited a class of volstrucker trainees. Like that program was alive and well when she took up her post and even if she wanted to change it eventually you cannot end a program like that overnight. You still have to look at a teenager with rocks in their arms and decide what to do with an abandoned science project soldier who doesn't even have the consolation of being finished or powerful or old enough to drink

[artificialstardust]

Not bestfriend!noah fucking you in just a black cowboy hat 😵‍💫😫💀

Okay, let me add my spin to this

Bestfriend!noah that has you in missionary with your knees pressed to your chest as he gives you slow deep strokes. The hat resting on his head, his chain dangling in your face. “God it’s like this pussy is just begging for my cum baby. Want me to pump you full? Want me to breed you?” He teases with a smirk on his face, occasionally groaning. He’s biting his lip so he can hear your pretty little noises rather than himself. He drops his head forward and squeezes his eyes growling when he feels you clench around him after hearing his words. After a little longer he’s sinking as deep as he can into you and filling your cunt with cum. “There you go baby, take every drop” and he’s still trying to press just a little deeper. He’s rubbing at your clit so he can feel you cum on him and squeeze every drop from him.

Then he moves so he’s on his back and has you on top. He takes the hat off and places it on your head. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy baby, go on” he smirks and slaps your ass. He smiles lazily watching you try and straddle him because you’re so wobbly, so he just grabs onto your hips when he feels you’ve lined him up and just pulls you straight down onto him making you cry out. He moves your hips for you, your hands are on his chest bracing yourself. You look at him with a fucked out expression and he’s just looking down at his cock disappearing inside of you, looking at how much of a mess you’ve made on his lap. He ends up planting his feet onto the bed so he can fuck up into you. “Look at you ride baby-hmmph- let’s see how long you can stay on” and he brings his hand to rub quickly at your clit. He starts counting from one, trying to get you to cum on his cock. By the time he gets to twenty seconds you’re crying and falling forward slightly and cumming on him, leaving even more of a mess on him. He’s moaning at the feeling, talking you through it, praising you so nicely. “M’almost there baby, just a little more” as he uses you to help himself finish. He’s bringing your body down to meet his hips and then holds you there as he cums. His head throws back into the pillows as he lets out a string of moans.

When he relaxes, he take the hat off you and throws it to the floor by the bed. He holds you close to him, telling you how good you did for him, giving you kisses, just being so sweet. He grabs his water from earlier and has you take a few drinks from it before taking one himself.

“Fuck I love ruining that cunt for anyone else. You just need your best friend”

[kathrahender]

What if the Berserkers went to Berk before the beginning of HTTYD 1 and everything was almost the same, except that Dagur was the one discovering Hiccup's secret (that he became a dragon's friend and trained him) instead of Astrid?

At first Dagur is jealous (because Hiccup could hit a Night Fury with one of the viking's weapons, something no one did before) and angry (because what kind of viking Hiccup is if he helps a dragon?). Dagur is less willing to give the dragons a second chance than Astrid was, and although he doesn't tell Berk the truth about Hiccup, he still tells the Berserker Tribe they have to control/kill a Night Fury (he didn't tell Berk because yk, he wanted to control/kill Toothless himself).

(Hiccup still finds the truth about dragons being controlled btw, and obviously Dagur doesn't succeed in controlling/killing Toothless)

Stoick eventually finds out the truth about Toothless and Hiccup, and for "safety" reasons one of the Berserkers tells Dagur to stay in Berk with Hiccup, Astrid, Snotlout, Tuffnut and Ruffnut. It's hard to convince him at first (because it's Dagur and he doesn't follow orders from other people) but there's something in the way they say it that makes him agree (as if they knew something Dagur didn't).

At some moment, when Dagur sees Hiccup is not with them, he starts looking around, thinking he went with the tribe without them noticing, but later he finds him in his house, looking at the horizon with sadness and pain. At first Dagur wanted to make fun of him, but the way he says "Congratulations, you're here. You won't have to see your tribe dying. And you were right about me. I'm truly the worst viking" makes his heart hurt. And against his own will, he can't avoid helping Hiccup. He never saw him destroyed inside and he knows he wouldn't recover if he lost his best friend and his father the same day.

Then, all of them (Hiccup, Dagur, Astrid, Snotlout, Tuffnut, Ruffnut and Fishlegs) go to Dragon's Den. The fight follows the canon, except that Dagur is more involved in the fight than any other dragon rider. And when he sees how Toothless saved Hiccup's life, he finally believes Hiccup. He believes dragons are capable of being good.

After making a truce with the dragons, Berserkers and Berkians become allies, and Dagur (as well as Astrid, Snotlout, Tuffnut, Ruffnut and Fishlegs) gets his own dragon. He helps the other riders to defend Berk, redeeming himself, and although his behavior at first isn't very different than before (except when he's with Hiccup, because he is "kind" with him), eventually he softens.

(And later the fic would continue the same timeline as Dragons: Riders/Defenders of Berk and Race To The Edge, but with Tuffcup and Heathstrid instead of Hiccstrid. Viggo also would live in this AU because I refuse to accept his death. Oh, and Dagur is single because in this AU he's more interested in defending Hiccup and Berk than having a love interest)

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I need a How to Train Your Dragon x BBC Merlin crossover where Hiccup discovers the dragonlord in order to save a lot of dragons from dying and Arthur returns. Maybe the other knights too?

Or maybe something about saving Aithusa from Morgana

I don’t know, I haven’t got far with fleshing it out more than that but it’s been stuck in my head all day so I thought I’d share

[thefallennightmare]

För Alltid: Jolly Karlsson x OFC! Astrid-One Shot[JP Universe]

Pairings: Jolly Kalrsson x OFC! Astrid[Just Pretend Universe]

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut( unprotected p in v while Jolly sits in the computer chair, slight biting, slight masturbation, Jolly suddenly realizing he has a breeding kink)

Words: 4,011.

Summary: The rope that binds Jolly and Astrid together is bound to snap. Can they tighten it before it's too late?

Authors Note: I've realized we haven't had an update into this couple since Fika came out so I decided why not! A little insight into the JP world without posting the next chapter. Also, I didn't tag anyone because I'm currently working on my tag list.

ASTRID

With a soft yawn, I scratched at my stomach as I walked into the apartment, the bag from the pharmacy clutched tight to my chest. My heart beat wildly in my chest with the only thought in my mind was making it to the bathroom. Thankfully, Jolly wasn’t home so he wouldn’t question what was in the bag. Even if he did catch me, it wasn’t like Jolly would say anything. He barely spoke more than five words to me since this morning; since our fight. He left almost immediately after our fight with a simple love you and I hadn’t seen him since, which was almost eight hours ago

The fighting had been more recent, almost every day one of us would bicker about something. It was like this months ago when I was dealing with the aftermath of my fathers death. Jolly suggested I talk to someone, outside of our relationship, about how I felt about his death. I took his advice and started seeing Dr. Poulos, which helped immensely. Jolly and I were good again, our relationship was thriving like how it had been in the beginning; back when he came to Fika every day. 

I kept up my therapy appointments until recently. The last two weeks, the only thing I had energy for was working at Fika from open to close and then coming home to sleep off the exhaustion. Jessica and Tori quit, both deciding to move onto better things which I couldn’t hold against them. I still had Sean and a few other new employees but none of them were management material. So all the extra behind the scenes work fell on my shoulders. Jolly would come and help out when he wasn’t busy with Bad Omens but that wasn’t nearly as often. 

It was four in the afternoon on a Thursday and I had plans on staying at Fika till close but after getting sick, I decided to come home for the evening, not before stopping at the pharmacy. 

Setting the bag on the counter in the kitchen, I glanced around the quiet apartment and felt my heart sink when I still didn’t see Jolly’s Bad Omens sweater hanging on its normal hook. I pulled out my phone to check if I had any new messages. 

I had five. Four from the girls group chat and one from Jolly. 

My hands shook as I clicked on the one from Faye first. 

Faye 🩵🧚: I’m going to throw up. I’m shooting for The Ghost Inside tonight while Matt works their front of house. 

Tay 🍓: Meanwhile I’m going to cry because I’m looking at huskies for adoption but my apartment doesn't allow dogs. 

Y/N 🐦‍⬛: Don’t get me fucking started on crying. 

Tay 🍓: Shit. 

Clicking out of our text thread without saying anything, I clicked on Jolly’s text. 

Joakim ☕🩶: I’ll have dinner for us after you get home from therapy. 

Fuck. 

My therapy appointment was in two minutes but even if I wasn’t sick, there wasn’t any way I’d make it in time. 

Right, were you sick the last two times you skipped therapy?

Typing out a quick excuse to Dr.Poulos about needing to cancel for being sick this time, I set my phone on DND and let it rest on the kitchen counter. As I reached into the bag from the pharmacy, the front door opened revealing Jolly who wore his typical sweater and dark glasses hiding his eyes as I locked mine with them. His hood was pulled over his hat but his long hair poked out down his shoulders. 

“Shit,” I murmured when I noticed his shoulders stiffen. 

“You’re supposed to be at therapy,” Jolly noted with a deep voice. 

I rubbed my elbows. “Yeah-uh-I haven’t been feeling well.” 

Jolly took off his sunglasses, setting them in the bowl on the table next to the door, and furrowed his brows while resting his hands on his hips. “Is that the excuse for missing the last three appointments?” 

I blanched. “How did you know?” 

“Dr. Poulos’ office sent a letter home,” he held up a letter that was ripped open. 

“You read my fucking mail?” I seethed while slicing my eyes into him. “That’s an invasion of privacy!” 

“I had no other choice, Astrid! You’ve been keeping shit from me,” Jolly sneered while throwing off his sweater and not bothering to hook it up. Instead he let it rest on the back of the couch. 

I bit my tongue trying so hard not to have yet another fight today. Mentally I was exhausted and needed to remember what it felt like to be loved by Jolly. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” I blew out a shaky breath while running a hand through my white hair. 

The brokenness in my voice made Jolly’s stern face soften just a tad. “Karaste. I just want you to talk to me.” 

I scoffed. “Talk to you? Why would I when I try to, it always leads to a fight.”

“You’re lying to me!” His voice boomed in the space. “Are you even sick? You had no problem going to work all day.” 

Every word he spoke dug the knife deeper and deeper into my chest because while I didn’t look sick on the outside, I knew what was wrong on the inside. Jolly wouldn’t understand, not unless I told him what was wrong. I just needed confirmation first. 

I looked away from his assessing eyes and casted my gaze down at my feet, kicking my scuffed up VANS along the hardwood floor. When Jolly first moved in, he made the emptiness in here feel like a home. Now with all of our fighting lately, it was as if the love had been sucked out. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jolly,” I held up my hands exasperated. “It’s not like you’ll believe me since you think I’m lying.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest and I did my best not to gawk at how his thick muscles clenched underneath his tight black shirt. Somehow with him throwing off his sweater, Jolly was still able to keep the black hat on. I let my eyes linger too long on the tattoos covering his left arm, up to the typical cross earring he wore, and finally over the dark facial hair that covered his face. He always made it look so good. 

I clenched my legs together hoping to curb the fire that festered low inside of me. It had been so long since we touched each other but both of us were too angry with each other to even think about sex. 

“Do you plan on getting back into therapy?” Jolly wondered. 

My lips parted but nothing came out because truthfully, my therapy sessions were the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. 

“I-I don’t know,” I answered honestly. 

“You fucking promised,” Jolly scoffed while running a hand over his jaw. "Everything is a lie. Every fucking thing!" 

The door slamming in the small confines of my apartment echoed causing me to jump, doing whatever I could to keep the tears at bay. I wouldn't cry, not for him. Not for Jolly.  Even though the moment he walked in the door, all I wanted to do was cry not only because of the constant arguing but because I missed him terribly. He was here physically but emotionally, Jolly was checked out. 

"Asshole," I grumbled under my breath, eyes boring daggers into the closed door of his office/studio. 

Well, you did lie to him. You've been lying to him. Keeping secrets.

Ignoring the thoughts plaguing my existence lately, I blew out a shaky breath and forced myself to turn back towards the kitchen counter.  The exhaustion had been buried deep in my bones for the last couple of weeks and I didn’t think it had anything to do with working almost every day. All I wanted to do was curl in bed to sleep the rest of the evening away. Even though Jolly's words from our fight this morning before I left for work kept pestering me. 

"I haven't thought much about the future. I'm trying to focus on now." 

I asked him in the middle of yet another argument where he thought this relationship was going because I made the mistake of mentioning how I felt like things were stale between us. Jolly didn't think of the future. Of our future. He only thought of the now. 

It had been weeks of arguing. Weeks of walking on eggshells around each other. Weeks of not having sex. And weeks of keeping a secret to myself. Now that I knew how Jolly felt, I couldn't decide on if I should continue to keep it to myself or tell him which could potentially ruin everything. 

The urge to cry burned in my throat as I snatched the bag off of the kitchen counter and locked myself in the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long moment, noting the dark circles under my eye and the dark roots of my hair indicating I had not only skipped out on my therapy session but my hair appointments as well. 

Averting my gaze away from the mirror, I dug out the box from the bag and nearly choked on a breath when I read over the letters once more. I nearly dropped it in the pharmacy when the realization began to sink in. 

Pregnancy Test. 

I had missed my period last month and it was coming up on when I was supposed to get it this month but with how I’d been feeling, I knew I wouldn’t be getting my period this month either. 

That night was a night where we had a huge blowout argument, both of us questioning if we loved another. Deep down we knew we still loved each other and it was wrong for us to question it. But both of us were stubborn so instead of admitting our love, we decided to fuck out our frustrations; Jolly dragging me to the shower with him as I wrapped my legs around his midsection, marking his neck as mine while his cocked slammed into me.. Afterwards, Jolly helped me to our bed and apologized for the fight as he held me against his chest. I took the morning after pill later that afternoon once we realized we weren’t safe which is why I was hoping the test would be negative. Maybe the reason why I missed my period was because of all the stress I’d been under. 

“Might as well get this over with,” I grumbled under my breath while ripping open the box. 

It came with two tests and I figured it would be better if I used both so after peeing on both sticks, I set them on the counter and washed my hands. These next five minutes were going to be incredibly slow so after I changed into one of Jolly’s shirts and opted out of wearing pants,  I paced the bathroom. I thought about maybe texting the girls group chat but knew with what Y/N was going through, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I didn’t want it to seem as if I was rubbing it in her face if I was pregnant. 

“Shit,” I clutched my chest when the timer on my phone went off. 

As I reached for the tests which were overturned, I paused for a moment wondering if maybe I should have been doing this with Jolly. 

“If he wasn’t such an asshole,” I muttered to the thought in my head and turned over the two tests. 

My heart was in my ears, in my throat, and in the depths of my stomach when I saw the one word that sealed our fate. 

Positive. 

Both tests were positive. 

“Fuck me,” I breathed while resting a hand on my stomach, the tears finally falling. 

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that even though we were fighting, Jolly would be fine with whatever I decided to do. It was my choice. But would he stay with me? Bad Omens had been working non stop on touring and recording their next two albums. Hence why Jolly had been in a mood lately. I knew his anger wasn't directly related to me but because he’d been overworked. I also knew that didn’t give him the right to take it out on me. 

Pulling up Jolly’s text thread on my phone, shaking fingers worked out a text even though he was still in the next room. 

Me: I need to talk to you. It’s important. Can you meet me in the living room please? 

Joakim ☕🩶: I’m busy working. 

With a snarl, I snatched the tests off the bathroom counter and stormed out into his office, letting the door smack against the wall. Jolly didn’t bother to look away from his computer, one of Bad Omens new tracks on display, as I dropped the tests on the desk in front of him. 

“Congratulations. You’re going to be a father,” I snapped before turning to walk away. 

The chair creaked as Jolly leaned forward to gaze down at his desk, a soft breath catching in his throat. 

“Karaste,” his fingers grazed my wrist, halting me. “Wait.” 

“What? Are you going to claim I’m faking this again?” I snapped, slicing him with my gaze. 

“I-,” Jolly’s face softened as he looked back at the pregnancy tests. “You’re pregnant?” 

I let the anger fade momentarily when I heard the sincerity in his voice, the slight excitement. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I missed my period last month and I’ve been so exhausted lately. Not to mention my boobs have been really sore,” I cringed while running a hand over my chest. 

Jolly glanced up at my breasts with a small smirk but then he let his gaze lower on my stomach where it rested for a long few beats of silence. Fear of what he would do or say weighed heavy on my shoulders causing me to remain frozen in front of him. The air in the room was thick with an unreadable tension and the ringing in my ears was deafening. I couldn’t even hear our shared breathing as Jolly continued to stare at my stomach before his large hands rested there.

“Hi,” he breathed. “Jag är din pappa.”

Over our time together, Jolly had been slowly teaching me Swedish so immediately I knew what he said. 

I’m your dad.

I dragged a finger over his cheek, those amber eyes I adored so much gazed up at me underneath his black hat. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what, Astrid?” Jolly asked with furrowed brows. 

“For lying to you. For not going to my therapy appointments. For avoiding fixing things between us by working nonstop.”

I rattled off which made him link fingers with me and brought me down onto his lap, both of us now sitting in his computer chair. He rested his hands over my hip, slowly raising up the hem of my shirt so he could drag calloused fingers over my skin. It was the most contact we’ve had in a week and I leaned farther into him. His nose dragged over my jaw, breathing me in. 

“I’m sorry for all of the hurtful things I’ve said. I’m sorry for reading your mail when I should have asked you up front what was wrong. I’m sorry for locking myself away with work instead of fixing things between us,” Jolly apologized. 

Removing his hat, I looked deeper into his eyes, taking in the slight freckles on his face. 

“Can I be honest?” 

When Jolly nodded, I continued. “You freaked me out when you said you never thought of our future and now that I’m pregnant, I’m worried you’re going to leave.” 

“Absolutely not,” he cupped my cheek, dragging his thumb just underneath my eye to wipe away the stray tears. “I’ve never thought about the future until you came into my life, karaste. I might not express it enough, which is my fault but please know you’re in my future. Especially now.” 

His free hand grazed over my stomach and I nodded into the grasp on my cheek, leaving a kiss on the inside of his palm. 

“Can you promise me one thing?” I asked. 

“Anything.” 

Biting my lip, I spoke. “Can you promise not to propose to me just because I’m pregnant? I want you to propose because you want to, not because you feel like you have too.”

Something flashed in his eyes but Jolly eventually nodded. “Of course.”

While sitting on his lap, the chair continued to creak underneath our shared weight and I sighed, ready to get off which caused him to tighten his grip on me. 

“Stay,” he breathed in the crook of my neck. “I need to show you how sorry I am.” 

Quickly, Jolly’s lips were on mine in a leisurely kiss. It started off like how our first kiss did, like he was testing the waters again. I nearly sobbed into the kiss when I felt the love pour out of him. I’d been desperate to feel this way again. With his hands on my hips, he began moving me up and down his lap, the hardness of his cock pressing against the thin material of my panties. His name fell from my lips, almost immediately swallowed by his tongue as it explored my mouth, tasting me. 

Tattooed fingers slinked up my shirt to graze over my back before Jolly tossed it over my head and down to the floor, breaking our kiss. Lust bleed in his already dark eyes as he looked at my stomach, his cock straining in his jeans. 

“Shit,” he groaned while pressing kisses along my chest. “I can’t wait to see you round with my baby.” 

A moan fell from my lips as I exposed more of myself to Jolly, his teeth now grazing over my nipples. Along with my sore breasts, my nipples were extra sensitive. 

“Jolly,” I pulled on his shirt. 

He immediately understood and helped me work it off. Immediately my nails raked over the familiar tattoo along his chest as my lips met his again in a fiery kiss, this one more intense than the last. With a gentle tap to my ass, I raised my hips slightly so Jolly could drag down my panties with a bit of maneuvering. However with his jeans, it would have taken way more maneuvering on his part to slide them off completely. 

“We should move to the bed,” I suggested, breathless. 

Jolly shook his head, keeping his lips on the current mark he was working on my neck. “Absolutely not. I want you to sit on my cock while I sit on the chair.” 

Feeling feisty, I pulled away from him slightly to gaze down at him. “Really? This has nothing to do with Noah making it slip the other day how Y/N and him did something eerily similar to this.” 

He rolled his eyes with a groan. “Please don’t bring up Noah having sex right now.” 

When he motioned towards his unzipped jeans, I let out a soft giggle and then reached my hand in his briefs to grab his cock, already so warm and hard. 

“I’ve missed this,” I whispered, gathering his precum to drag it over the head. 

“Astrid,” my name came out through gritted teeth as Jolly rested his head on my shoulder. “I need to be inside of you. Please.”

Pulling his cock out from his briefs completely, I dragged it between my folds a few strokes before sinking down on him; both of us letting out a loud groan of pleasure.  It had been so long since we’ve felt this so I knew we wouldn’t last long. 

“Fuck,” Jolly strangled out while wrapping his arms around me to bring me closer. “I can’t wait to watch your belly get round with my baby.”

I mewled in response, mouth busy with leaving dark marks across his neck while one of my hands slipped between our bodies to press circles on my clit, bringing me closer to the edge. 

His cock twitched inside of me, indicating he was close when his hips stilled. “You'd look so beautiful pregnant with my kid. Your belly and tits-oh shit." 

“Don’t stop,” I begged while riding him faster this time, the chair nearly falling over. 

For the first time since I walked into the room, I noticed a soft tune emanating from the computer speakers, instantly recognizing the voice. 

“What if we got even for all the wrong reasons? What could it change?”

“Astrid,” Jolly’s voice now pulled me away from the song back to him and I brushed away the hair from his sweat slicked forehead. “I’m going to fill you up over and over again.” 

I nodded as the coil in my stomach began to ignite in a blaze of ecstasy, my orgasm about to snap. 

“I love you,” I cried out when my body finally snapped, arousal coating Jolly’s cock. 

With one final thrust, he followed me over the edge as he filled me with his cum and a breathless Jag älskar dig mer, karaste in the skin of my neck. 

I love you more, dearest. 

Falling into him with exhaustion, Jolly lifted me from the chair and carried me through our apartment towards the bathroom. 

“Are you alright?” He questioned while still carrying me. 

I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Setting me on the closed toilet seat, he turned on the shower and removed his pants while we waited for the steam to bellow around us. 

“First thing tomorrow, you’re calling Dr. P to reschedule your appointments,” he said while running a brush through my hair. 

“I will,” I promised. “I never meant to skip them. I just got overwhelmed with everything. Work, feeling sick, and our fighting.” 

Putting the brush down, Jolly kneeled in front of me so he could rest his hands on my thighs. 

“What do you say we get away for a bit? Just the two of us. We could head up to Big Bear. I know how much you loved it the last time we were there.” 

I nodded eagerly. “I would love that. Fika is doing so well that if I closed it down for the weekend, we’d still survive.”

When the steam began to gather on the mirror and stuck to our skin, Jolly helped me up to my feet and rested his hand on my stomach where our baby was growing. 

“I need to call the doctor to get an ultrasound scheduled so I can figure out exactly how far along I am,” I said while covering his hands with my own. 

“Tomorrow?” He asked with bright eyes. 

I couldn’t help but giggle as I led him into the shower with me. “I don’t think I’d be able to get in that quick. Plus it’s Y/N’s birthday tomorrow. Noah wants us all there by four p.m.” 

As Jolly set me underneath the stream of water, he reached for my shampoo and lathered it up in his hands. 

“We should probably keep this quiet, for multiple reasons,” he noted while working the shampoo in my hair. 

I hummed in agreement and settled into the tranquility of Jolly washing me first and then me doing the same to him. 

Even through all of the fighting we’d gone through recently, it was evident our love remained just as strong as the first day he walked into Fika asking for a black coffee with two spoonsful of sugar. Almost two years later, he still took his coffee the same way. Just like our love had remained the same, regardless of the fighting. While I was unsure of a lot of things recently, there was one thing I knew for certain now besides our baby growing inside of me. 

För alltid.

We were forever. 

[ameagrice]

The Wanderer

jeremy frazier x fem oc.

chapter one: hey, sadie, it’s 1999.

From Jeremy’s window, you get a good view of the town. The trees all turning brown and gold, the leaves which fall from them in varying shades of reds and yellows. Some are dead, with only branches to spare. Then there is the winding road, of course, and the small stores that tunnel it.

From Jeremy’s window, people are putting together Christmas decorations on their houses, string lights in multicolours, and Santa Claus signs in the yards.

From Jeremy’s window, she stares down into his backyard. Her backyard. Their backyard, as it has been for so long. There’s the stolen bike propped up on the inside fence, waiting for the cops. There is the eyesore pile of leaves laying crisp in wait for the kids from next door to come and dive into when they’re feeling daring. There is Jeremy’s childhood treehouse, its paint red and faded but standing strong. And sitting at its edge, strumming a guitar, is Jeremy himself. His long fingers dance along the guitar strings, long legs hanging over the edge of the doorway he sits in. Today, Jeremy’s dressed in her favourite teal sweater of his, and black jeans. His head is bent over the guitar ever so slightly, chocolate curls brushing his eyes. It’s strange, how she gets the urge to grab his curls and slam his face into the treehouse wall. Strange indeed.

As if he can sense her watching, Jeremy raises his head and tilts back, lifting a knee up to his chest under the guitar. Milky skin is unchanged in the cool weather, darling pink lips turning up to a smile. A set of dark brown eyes meet her’s, and they set there. He’s calm today, apparently. He’s kind.

Sadie isn’t.

Today she feels…angry. They’re always conflicting emotions, the two of them. A match strikes inside her, and she raises a confident hand to her neck, swiftly moving it across in a slicing motion, clenching her teeth.

Jeremy’s mouth only tugs upward, perfect white teeth on display. He tears his eyes away and down to the guitar strings, and begins to play again. The song is familiar, but she’s never learned its name. He won’t tell her. She can’t help but latch her eyes on his hand, strumming the strings like they’re the most delicate things in the world. Memories cast phantom fingertips along her wrists, searching somewhat softly for a pulse. She’d had one, then, at that particular moment in time.

Which was why he’d swung the bat again.

“You should come down!” His voice calling pulls her from the past. It’s like honey, not at all uncaring, and it does the trick. “The fresh air’ll do you some good!”

Sadie scoffs harshly. Fresh air…Is he trying to be funny?

“Move away from the window, Sadie,” he chastises, he advises, he urges.

She folds her arms and waits heavily on one hip, tapping her fingers along her arms, and steps backward until she’s definitely out of his vision. The street is busy, today, but the treehouse is just behind the fence and out of sight. She could really annoy him and open the window, throw herself out—that usually gives him a bit of a shiver, at least. Or maybe—

“I know what you’re thinking, Sadie! Stop plotting and come down!”

He knows her too well. Being house-bound for twenty years will do that to a person.

Tilting her head, she allows herself to consider the options:

One—leaving their room today would be a nice change of scenery. She hasn’t left it in exactly a week, rotting in desperation and depression. Eyeing the movie posters on the walls, Sadie thinks of all of the things that could go wrong by going outside. Absolutely nothing, to be real. She just risks blowing up on Jeremy for the third time this week.

Two—Jeremy would try to serenade her with a sweet word and deescalation techniques, and she couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t try to throw herself and him out of the treehouse.

“What do you think, Prisoner Panda?”

Sadie turns to their bed. There are Jeremy’s old plushies of course, only an alien from the movies in Montana, and a blanket. But there is also her panda, a small and ragged thing left here by chance many moons ago. He’s cartoonish and limp, now the stuffing has moved so much. But he’s still smiling, and he smells like home. Prisoner Panda is Prisoner Sadie’s only best friend.

The other one killed her.

Prisoner Panda does not answer her.

“I should go out, right?” Sadie nods to the inanimate object. “A change of scenery will make me feel better, huh? Yeah. I think so, too.”

She takes a jacket from the back of Jeremy’s desk chair and pulls it on over her outfit of red dress and tights. The next step is getting out of the bedroom. Jeremy’s music is still playing away from the yard, as Sadie slips through the hallway. The yellow patterned wallpaper smells faintly of cigarette smoke and baking, the smell of which only becomes stronger the closer she gets to the ground floor and the kitchen.

The staircase is somewhat creaky, the banister painted dark brown, like old varnished mud, and the steps are the same. She can’t count the times she fell on these stairs, all the times Jeremy’s mom would help her with an ice pack to the knee, or the head.

As if she can sense Sadie thinking about her, Jeremy’s mother comes hurrying by the staircase just when Sadie reaches the bottom. Her long blonde hair is tied up today in a pretty bun, and stuck through with green sparkling pins. She has a rag and a bottle of cleaning detergent in her hand, peering at Sadie with her one good eye. She bursts into a bright smile exactly like her son’s.

“Morning, Sade.” Her pale hands wipe down every inch of the walls. Always cleaning, is Sara. Obsessively so.

You’d deduced together, you and Jeremy, that his parents were completely unaware that they were dead. To them, it was just another day. The kitchen utensil sticking through Jeremy’s mother’s eye was nothing to her, and the same for the one in his father’s head. The weapons their son had used didn’t phase them in the slightest, because to them it never happened. Life went on as normal. Was it a coping method, she wondered? Or hadn’t they reached the level of self-awareness in the afterlife of which she and their son had?

Passing by the living room, Sadie clears her throat. “Morning, Ted.”

Ted Frazier is by all means, a couch potato. While Sara cleans, Ted hogs the television. “Mornin’. Think Jeremy’s outside…”

Through the homely hallway, decked in frames of she and Jeremy in Montana, the last one at their graduation, and snapshots of Ted and Sara’s life together, including small images of baby Jeremy, and other family members Sadie only met the once. It smells strongly of lavender and lemon cleaning products, like a little trail of Sara.

Through the dining room, past Sara stress-polishing the table, Sadie strolls to the open back door, and out into the world.

There’s the plain garden fence, encasing the small bench on one side (where Jeremy can’t reach), the red treehouse, and down to the open driveway.

The wind blows firmly today, but not enough to put her off coming outside. It kisses her skin like she’s still alive, and the grass is cool under her feet, bare beside the material of her tights. Jeremy’s coat blows, forcing her to wrap it tighter with her arms crossed around the front. Sadie raises her gaze to the sound of strumming, the high notes blending softly together.

“Hey, Sade,” his voice comes down, gentle, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “It’s a nice morning.”

Across the damp ground she approaches him, staring from the bottom of the ladder at first. She wishes to scare him, get her own back. Not that she hasn’t done so in the past twenty years, but it’s long overdue since the last time. Two weeks, exactly, since she’d tried to throw him down the stairs. Jeremy had the upper hand, and pushed her over the banister instead.

“If you came here to stare at me and say nothing I’d say just go back inside,” he drawls. “You’re being boring.”

“You’re an asshole.” She spits, full of spite.

“You said that last week. And then you couldn’t get enough—”

Quickly, she raises her hands and claps them around his thin ankle, feeling the bones grind beneath her fingers. And she yanks, hard on his weight. He shifts only once, enough to be startled, the guitar falling hard to the wood beneath, and then she pulls again, unforgiving this time. Jeremy yells in surprise and pain, body landing with a thump on the thick tree roots at the base. Groaning on his back, a hand stronger than it looks takes a fistful of her hair and twists, as her own balls up and pounds into the junction at his neck—right where he broke it.

“Get off!” He’s angry, now. And good, she thinks, he deserves to feel what she is feeling, and slaps her palm across his face. It’s only eleven in the morning, but they’re about to have many, many fights today. “You little psycho, go back inside!”

Sadie laughs, and then cries out. Jeremy slides his fingers through her hair to her temple, digging firmly into the place of injury.

“Ow! Ow, fuck!” She lets go of his collar. Jeremy wrenches himself from her grip.

They’ve had this particular back-forth situation happen a million times. She knows how to hurt him—digging into his broken neck—and he does her—by pushing on the spot of impact.

“You told me to come out!” She manages to yell, pushing a hand free between them both to take a dig at his bruised neck. “You—told—me!”

“I thought you were feeling angry, not murderous! I can deal with angry.”

“Shame I had to deal with murderous!”

She bites at his wrist, grazing it, and Jeremy laughs like he can’t believe it, taking a handful of her hair to pull her away. They’ve done this a million times, and he still acts shocked.

It makes her think of his twentieth birthday back in 2001, play-fighting in the front room. They’d just watched a rerun of some army movie and tried to replicate their moves. Surprisingly, she’d had him on his back, watching in glee as he wrestled her over, hovering carefully between her knees and complaining about a girl being stronger than him.

Such a shame things went the way they did back then.

She doesn’t stop fighting him because she wants to; they stop because of his mom. She yells from the doorway.

Sara sighs heavily. “Jeremy! Not again, guys! Back To The Future is playing in five, don’t you want to watch it?”

The two of them are quiet, just breathing hard, adrenaline running. Jeremy moves away slightly, giving her space. He lightens the hold on her hair, brushing the bloodied dip of her skull from the incident so long ago. His thumb brushes over it, a loving touch and a tender warning all the same.

“Yeah!” He calls, stumbling back to his feet. “We’re coming now.”

“Well, don’t be late for it! You know what your dad’s like.” Sara laughs nervously, tittering in place. “I’m going to get started on lunch!”

Lying on her back watching the clouds float by, Sadie waits to catch her non-needed breath. After a few seconds, she sits upright, and uses the tree to get to her feet. Jeremy stands a little way off with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, observing her.

“Feel better, psychopath?”

She nods her head, and hums. “A little.”

Jabbing his thumb to the house, he lets that smirk appear. “Can we go watch a movie now? You’re not gonna smash the television over my head are you?”

Sadie pushes him aside, passing. “Don’t push your luck.”

They settle on the couch for the movie, and stay there until it’s nearly time for dinner. There’s no benefit of eating in the afterlife—the food is nice, but pointless. It has no nutritional value whatsoever, but Sadie does it to appease Sara, who has never known she’s dead.

That night, in the dark coziness of their bedroom, tucked under covers and blankets galore, Jeremy presses a mirage of kisses along the impact zone on her skull, raining love along the violence. He noses at her neck, and breathes in the flat of her collar.

“I’m tired,” mutters Sadie, laying a warm hand against his bruised neck. She feels the blood pooled under his skin, tiny fragments of bones dancing around under there.

“So sleep,” he says.

For the first time in weeks, she does.

—

“We really should put out the Christmas decorations. I’ll ask Ted and Jeremy to go get them down from the attic later…”

It’s raining hard this morning of December seventh. The sky cries, presenting itself in dark blue. The stand mixer whirs, and so does Sara, spinning back and forth around the kitchen for the things she needs to make cupcakes. Sadie’s supposed to be helping her, but the Vogue magazine from 1999 that she has read a million times is just so damn interesting…

Rain cracks down on the windows. Lifting her eyes, she watches the droplets slide down the glass, and pool at the dip in the window ledge.

“What do you think, Sade?”

She looks to Sara, now. The cooking utensil sticking out of her face used to bother Sadie greatly, but now it’s like looking at a friend—the abnormalities don’t bother her much anymore.

“What?”

Sara smiles but rolls her good eye. She waves the bowl of batter. “I said, vanilla or strawberry flavoring?”

“Strawberry,” she decides, looking back to page four. “We had vanilla last week didn’t we?”

“Right we did, Sade. Right we did…”

It’s boring, being dead. Trying to find ways to pass the time when you’re aware that you’re no longer living is difficult. At first, they tried everything, she and Jeremy. Football games in the yard (once they got past the initial hatred stage); moving household furniture around; and other things. But there’s only so much time that being intimate and pushing furniture pieces around can fill.

They started to get creative.

By trying to kill each other again.

“Bet this isn’t what you thought came after death,” she told him once upon a time, trying to gather a bit of broken skull off of the floor.

“Not. One. Bit.” Jeremy seethed, trying to crack his neck back in place.

It’s been twenty-two years since this Vogue magazine came out, but when she looks out of the window, the style is coming back around. The two-thousands never dies, it seems. She’s seen it come back about five times, now.

The chair shrieks across the tiles when she stands up. Sara grimaces and casts a look to the hallway, where Ted’s programme can be heard. It hasn’t gone amiss that there’s been a lack of arguing on Ted’s part this past week—he’s bound to blow up anytime now. Every little noise Sadie makes is like pulling on the tense wire that is Sara’s nerves.

She leans down to the windowsill, her head down on her arms, watching the world go by. School kids wait for the yellow busses, a couple of teens bike on by, laughter high on the rain. The headlights on the newer cars shine down the street, whizzing past at a speed waaaaay over the limit. Longing pulls at her heart.

A shuffle somewhere behind her draws her eyes up, refocusing on the reflection of the lit kitchen in the glass.

“Morning,” Jeremy sighs, pulling a chair from underneath the table and sitting heavily. He’s in black pyjama pants and a loose-fitting red sweater, and he takes the bowl of cereal his mom offers him, digging in straight away.

Ugh. Sadie looks away, out of the window again. This time, she swears a kid looks right at her. Probably not—Jeremy’s always said living people can’t see them one bit. Unless they’re Lydia Deetz, but she’s a bit of a folk story in their world. A could-be, whom people want to believe can give them a way out. There are whispers, and shouts, but nobody has proven her to be the real deal yet.

“Did you get a good sleep?” Sara lays a gentle hand in her son’s curls, shifting them. “Your father and I didn’t keep you awake yelling did we? I tried to tell him to quieten down; that he’d wake the two of you. But…well, you know how he is.”

As a matter of fact, yes, Ted did keep them awake. Something about slipping on the stairs because they’d been polished too much. Unable to sleep, Sadie had turned on some alternative rock from Jeremy’s player, and watched the world go by all night at his desk chair, contemplating life and the afterlife. Nearly twenty-three years of the same posters on the walls, twenty-three years of Ted and Sara, twenty-three years of Jeremy sleeping with his back to her, tossing and turning, like he can’t face the consequences of his actions.

In the middle of the night, governed by moonlight, she had even dug out Jeremy’s copy of the Handbook for the Recently Deceased and had a good old flick through. Hers had been thrown under the bed when she missed her target of Jeremy the week prior, and she couldn’t be bothered to go crawl under there and grab it.

Seven-hundred pages of illustrated explanations, incantations in different languages of all kinds. Nothing particularly helpful, besides the whole ‘draw a door!’ thing it offered, for those who wanted to talk to a case worker.

They’d done that in the early days, when the desperate need to escape became too much for even him. See, Jeremy’s death had been an accident. Hers, an unfortunate consequence. Wrong place, wrong time. In another life, she might have stayed home. Jeremy wouldn’t have come out to the garden to find her. The cops would have found him in the house and arrested him before taking him to prison, and her life would have continued in a decent deal of shock, but at least it would have continued.

Jeremy had drawn a messily-etched door on the wall, tearing down his precious posters, and knocked three times. It materialised and opened up into winding hallways passing grotesque endings and frightful things. It was a whole city—dry cleaners and police forces in terrible hues of reds and greens, dirty and depressing; a waiting room, and an immigration centre, for those wanting to reach the Pearly Gates, the Fires of Damnation, Elysium or the Great Beyond, governed by the dead. Their case worker, Juno, in her last year working, sat them down and explained the basics.

They were dead. This was the afterlife. No, Sadie, there hadn’t been a mistake. No, Jeremy, he couldn’t go back. But the good news was that they weren’t stuck forever! Sadie blew her nose noisily at this on a tissue Juno handed over the desk as Jeremy side-eyed her, clenching his fists. This was not what he’d hoped for.

“One-hundred-seventy years for you!” Juno slapped a stamp down on a business-like card, a bit of slip with Jeremy’s name in blood-red ink looped along the top line. “For soul redemption, and per the guidelines.” She slapped it down in front of him. “Don’t lose that, young man!”

She turned to Sadie next, human-looking with permed blonde hair and kind eyes. “Sadie, darling, I know this is hard to comprehend.” She touched Sadie’s hand, before offering a glance to Jeremy, as if willing him to understand. “Murder victims are often the hardest to console—the shock.” She picked up her pen with the other hand and began to write out another card.

“Only fifty years for you, my dear. Your life review deemed it unfair to have you repent for his sins. But, per the guidelines, you also have a lot of reviewing to do.”

“What happens after the time is up?” Snapped Jeremy at her side. His foot tapped anxiously at the ground. “What does it mean?”

“You’ll come back here and head on over to immigration! Show them your passports—they’ll arrive in a few days, so not to worry about that. You’ll have a choice: reunion at the Pearly Gates with other family members. Damnation if the council decides you have more repentance to continue. Or the Great Beyond, if you would like another shot at life. We give significant wait times between your death and your departures overall to allow those who have passed into our current side the opportunity to really think through their choices.”

Jeremy shifts, leaning forward. When Sadie shifts her gaze away from Juno to her boyfriend, there’s this look on his face. Anger, shock, mixed with a bit of terror that this is what the afterlife is.

“So this happens to everyone?” He asks.

Leaning back, Juno shakes her frizzy hair. “Not everybody, no. Some people become ghosts, others don’t. Luck of the draw. We aren’t completely sure why only certain people end up in our state, but it happens more often than you think. The live people think it’s down to unfinished business. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, both? You’re very new here. And oh, so young! Twenty…what an age! Not to worry—we have some pamphlets I can give to you. We run acceptance classes on a Thursday night, all about accepting you’re dead. It helps some dead to make peace with their circumstances. And of course if you ever have any queries or complaints, we’re always here to help!”

Thunder cracked, and the book in Sadie’s hands slid from them, falling to the floor with a heavy thud. It fell open, face-up. She leaned down to it and examined its pages contents. The book only displayed the contents when it deemed the reader ready for them. The pages her book showed would not necessarily be the same ones as in Jeremy’s.

SO YOU WANT TO EXCHANGE YOUR AFTERLIFE FOR ONE OF THE LIVING? READ ON NOW, WE CAN HELP!

The bed sheets ruffled, Jeremy rolling over in his sleep. Ted screamed at his wife two floors below, and Sara’s words came through among the sobs.

Creeping across the room on light feet, she sat down at her boyfriend’s side. “Hey, Jeremy…you’ve got to get up.”

He opened his eyes, seriously unimpressed, rubbing them.

Sadie leaned down, smugly smiling. “I’ve got an idea.”

The following afternoon, residing in the same chair after a fight with Jeremy and an aching heart, Sadie thought back on her whole twenty-two years in this house. Her parents were somewhere out there in the big wide world, in their sixties. Her siblings would be grown with families of their own, having been to college, or travelled. Maybe she was a sad reminder in a photo frame on the mantelpiece somewhere, or a candle lit in memory on the anniversary of her death, or her birthday. She might be a story shared at Christmas, replayed every few years on the news. She missed them terribly.

She thought long and hard about the lead up to her death, and spiralled. For the rest of the afternoon and well into the night, curled up beside him, she thought over first encounter with Jeremy in the town, and a long drive into what became her new home.

She thought way back when, to 1999.

CHAPTER 2 -> to be published.

[leverage-ot3]

side characters that are invited to the ot3 wedding, in no particular order:

nana hardison

jim sterling

archie (blegh. we accept him for parker’s sake)

todd mcsweeten

the rest of the hardison family

tara cole

billy spencer

astrid pickford

jacob stone (eliot’s twin)

alex walker (eliot’s other twin) (they are triplets)

kai and ernesto (alex’s partners)

maggie collins

quinn

jack hurley

actually, any leverage international member that wants to come and is available (I’m thinking lee tae joon’s crew)

cassandra and ezekiel (ezekiel is on thin ice. he and parker have a thief rivalry that has been going on for years. frenemies!!!)

paul orozco

colonel vance

mikel dyan

olivia sterling

shelly (from the boys night out job)

edit: people I have been told I forgot

agent taggert

peggy

cheryl from the mile high job (she and hardison continued to be WoW buddies. she is bisexual because I said so and is a queer gaming elder to breanna that breanna totally doesn’t have a crush on)

patrick bonanno

[royalwhumpness]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice - Reimagined [Fanfic]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice didn’t quite live up to my expectations. I was disappointed by some of the creative choices, particularly in how certain characters were portrayed and the story direction. This fic is my re-imagining of the movie, reflecting how I feel the characters and story could have been better developed. ’ve removed the fiancée/manager character entirely. I found him unnecessary, and his execution felt lacking. The overuse of mental health terms to villainize him and, by extension, the mental health movement, struck me as lazy and problematic. While his manipulative nature was meant to control Lydia, there was no positive representation to counterbalance his portrayal, leaving the audience with little context for his misuse. Instead, these issues were treated as punchlines, which, in my opinion, trivialized the subject matter. In my version, Betelgeuse’s ex is introduced more subtly, with hints of her greater role as the main antagonist in a potential third installment: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetljuice. Her character was completely underutilized in the film, and I felt she was given one of the most anticlimactic ends for any villain. Bob is not in this story. I’ve slightly re-imagined the detective, a character with a lot of untapped potential. On the other hand, Jeremy was the standout character for me and should have been the central antagonist. I’ve developed his relationship with Astrid more deeply, creating a stronger emotional impact leading up to his betrayal. Astrid, in my version, is a more realistic teenager—not the stereotypical brat she was in the movie. She and Lydia have a complex relationship, which, while strained, is more balanced. (Let’s not forget that Lydia herself was once a moody, gothic teen. She had personality, moped around, and resented her stepmother, but her characterization felt more nuanced and authentic than Astrid’s does here.) I was also disappointed by Delia’s treatment in the sequel—she felt like a mere caricature of her original self, and I believe she deserved much more. As for Betelgeuse, he went from being an outcast in the first film—someone you were warned against—to having an office and a legitimate business? That felt completely out of place. Much like Delia, he seemed like a caricature of his former self, and he’s significantly overpowered in this version. I’ve returned him to the chaotic, outcast anti-hero we all know. If you enjoyed the movie, that’s great—everyone has different tastes, and I respect that. But I hope you’ll give this version a chance and maybe find something to enjoy here too. If, like me, you were left wanting more from the sequel, perhaps this re-imagining will help scratch that itch. It’s been a cathartic project for me, and I hope you enjoy the read.

You can visit my AO3 if you'd like instead of reading here! Kudos would be much appreciated <3

PART ONE

“I can’t believe he survived that crash,” Lydia said, kneeling beside Delia and her daughter Astrid in front of her father’s gravestone. His likeness was etched into a chunk of stone shaped like a shark’s fin. Under the portrait, the inscription read:

Charles Deetz Husband, Father, Grandfather Peace Embraces the Dead Ones 1946-2024.

“Yes, well, I can’t believe that dreadful shark has his head in its belly.” Delia replied wryly, dabbing her eyes with a black handkerchief.

Silence hung in the air until Delia broke it with a sharp, ill-timed squawk: “Welp!” She slapped her knees and stood up abruptly. “Time to sell the house.” Lydia’s mouth fell open as Delia walked away, and after a brief moment of shock, she scrambled to chase after her. “Sell? Wha-why? You can’t, I-“ Lydia stammered. Delia silenced her with a raised, gloved hand. “Lydia, I’ve tried dressing this house in as much metaphorical gold as possible, but it’s still painfully clear that it is shit.” She lowered her hand, “I only stayed because your father loved it, but now I can finally rid myself of its stench. Not to mention that it is now an ugly reminder that my husband is no longer here.” With that, she stormed off, leaving Lydia frozen, watching her retreat. Every fragment of her life she held dear seemed to slip through her fingers, and with each heartbreak, the weight of grief grew heavier. She started bracing herself beneath the looming shadow of yet another impending loss.

Astrid came to stand beside her mom, gently placing a hand on her arm. Lydia glanced down at her daughter, and for a moment, she marveled at the beauty she had brought into the world. She saw herself in Astrid’s smile, but her inky black eyes, high and rounded cheekbones, and even her cute, small ears were all her father’s. At 15, Astrid had endured more than her fair share of losses. For years now, it had been just her and Lydia. Before she turned four, her grandparents had been a constant presence, always nearby. Then one day, with arms full of suitcases, they drove off, their car shrinking into the bright summer horizon. Only her grandfather reappeared from time to time, sitting with her to watch the birds while her mother tended to grieving clients. And instead of growing up surrounded by the warm, steadfast presence of her father, Astrid and Lydia had to confront his absence, mourning him when she was barely seven. Lydia placed her hand gently over Astrid’s. “I’m not going to let her sell the house.” Astrid remained silent, but she didn’t need to say anything. Astrid had never shown any affection for the house or its bygone charm. She had never known its vibrant, ghost-filled days. The town was small, and Astrid had eagerly accepted the chance to go to boarding school when she started her freshman year. To Astrid, this place, steeped in Lydia’s memories, was just a house. Instead, Astrid extended a soft, comforting smile before quietly following Delia’s path.

A little while later, Lydia found Delia in Charles’ office, researching how to list the house for sale and how soon after a death it could be done. “Delia, you don’t even live here anymore. I live here, and Astrid lives here. Doesn’t that mean something?” Without looking up from her screen, Delia replied, “You live here. Astrid goes to boarding school.” Lydia just stared. Where there should have been a beating, pulsing red glob of muscle in Delia’s chest, Lydia saw a yawning, gaping void. She watched as it seemed to draw in and distort the light around it, bending and warping everything towards its dark, insatiable center. Noticing the silence, Delia looked up. “Why are you so determined to stay? The Maitlands have moved on, Astrid is rarely home, and your ex-husband and father are both gone. I don’t see-“ She paused, her gaze meeting Lydia’s. The expression on Lydia’s face made her feel foolish. “I’m making an ass of myself, aren’t I?” Lydia responded with a slow, exaggerated nod, her eyes widening and lips pursed as if to underscore the obviousness of the answer. “I have a business here,” Lydia said quietly, “and memories.” Delia’s face softened. Lydia could see that her usual scowl had melted into something of a motherly expression of genuine compassion and sympathy. “Oh, Lydia.” She rose from her chair and approached her, reaching out to gently touch her face. “We’ve never really gotten along, have we? But you’re still my daughter, and we only have each other now.” “Then why are you uprooting my whole life right now?” Delia had no answer. She hadn’t lived in the house for over a decade. She and Charles had bought a condo in New York, allowing her to pursue her artistic endeavors and escape the ghost house. Charles would often travel back and forth, spending months at a time with Lydia and Astrid to indulge in his seasonal bird watching hobby. Meanwhile, Lydia remained behind, raising Astrid, supporting the house with her psychic business, and keeping Charles company during his visits.

“Alright,” Delia began, “I’m going to wait. But I still intend to sell the house.” Lydia started to interrupt, but Delia raised the same gloved hand to silence her. “I’m going to sell it eventually. But I’m not doing this out of spite. I want you to have the chance to move on, Lydia. I’m giving you a year.” Lydia sighed, lowering her gaze. A year might as well have been next week. The pause stretched long. An overwhelming urge to argue or plead spread through her bones and soaked into her throat, but she swallowed it down, managing a quiet, “Thank you,” paired with a soft, sullen smile. Delia’s expression brightened, and she gave Lydia’s nose a playful boop before leaving the office.

Astrid found her mom sulking on the couch, playing with her wedding ring. “You haven’t worn that in forever,” she said, sitting beside her and resting her head on her shoulder. Lydia returned the gesture, gently resting her own head on Astrid’s. She showed Astrid the ring and the inscription inside: ‘I will be with you, always.’ “Why can’t you see him, Mom?” Astrid asked softly. “I wish I knew, Astrid. Why can’t you?” Astrid lifted her head abruptly and shifted towards the edge of the couch, as if preparing to leave. Lydia, sensing Astrid’s frustration, said, “You can see them.” “So you say, but I have never seen one.” “You saw one when…“ “That I remember,” Astrid interrupted, cutting Lydia off before she could remind her, yet again, of the ghost she saw when she was four. It had been just over ten years since then, and she hadn’t seen one since.

“I’m going to ride my bike around town. I’ll see you later.” Astrid said. Lydia reached out to lovingly rub Astrid’s back before she left. “Okay. Be safe.” Astrid gave a slight smile and stood up. She often felt frustrated whenever her mom brought up her ability, or inability, to see ghosts. Thoughts swirled in her mind: Why can’t I see them? Am I not good enough? Are they even real? Would my mom really lie about something like this? She found it best to distance herself in these moments to avoid lashing out at her.

It had happened once before. Lydia was attempting to teach Astrid how to see ghosts, despite not fully understanding her own abilities. Frustrated by her failures regardless of her mother’s guidance, Astrid snapped. She accused her mother of being a fraud, claiming her psychic abilities were fake and that her business cheated clients out of their money. Astrid instantly regretted her harsh words. Though she didn’t see her mother’s reaction, she sensed it— the subtle shift—and prepared herself for what felt like the beginning of a strained relationship. It became routine then that at the first sign of rising anger or frustration, Astrid would remove herself from the situation to avoid confronting it altogether.

Astrid walked out the front door without a backward glance. Lately, her words had grown fewer, the once-eager stories about her day fading into silence. She barely met Lydia’s eyes anymore, and though small gestures of affection remained, the growing distance was unmistakable. Lydia’s heart ached as she watched her daughter go. Rising from the couch, she looked around the empty house. It was now haunted not by spirits, but by the echoes of a time when it was alive with the Maitlands’ presence and her family’s warm company. Longing to reclaim those cherished moments, she wandered through the house. Her eyes settled on her room, and a deep wave of sentimentality washed over her. An irresistible pull drew her toward the attic, driven by a quiet hope that revisiting the past might help her reconnect with what had been lost.

In her room, Lydia pulled out a small drawer from her jewelry box and carefully took out the old, familiar skeleton key. She smiled at it wistfully before heading for the attic. The stairs were draped in cobwebs and spider silk, hinting at years of neglect. Lydia unlocked the attic door and, after a struggle to unstick it, pushed it open and stepped inside. Waves of familiarity and longing enveloped her. Everything was covered in thick sheets and layers upon layers of dust undisturbed on top. It was clear that neither Lydia nor any other Deetz had ventured into this attic in years. She pulled the sheet off the town model and flicked on the switch. The model illuminated, instantly rekindling its old charm and wonder. Lydia leaned on the table, taking in the intricate details of the small buildings she hadn’t seen since before Astrid was born.

“Oh, I miss you so much,” Lydia said with a sigh. “I wish you had never moved on. We could have stayed a family, even in death.” She spoke aloud with the same reverence and cadence as one might when addressing an unseen deity. Speaking with the departed had always come easily to her—unless they had crossed beyond the reach of the afterlife. At that point, she was merely talking to herself. She knew they couldn’t hear her, but she needed to talk to them anyway. She lowered her head. “Why did you leave me?” She poked absentmindedly at a red toy car in a miniature driveway. “I wish you could have met Astrid. She would have loved you both.” She saw visions of Astrid coming home with her class drawings, eagerly showing them off to the Maitlands. She wanted Astrid to experience the joy she felt when they used their silly ghost powers. “You barely knew Richard before you were given your ticket to the Ethereal Express. Gone forever. And now Richard is gone, too. I can’t even see his spirit. My father is gone, my daughter is unreachable, and Delia is going to sell the house.” Lydia rested her head lightly on the table. She could feel the emotions bubbling up in her eyes, but she wasn’t willing to cry just yet.

She straightened up, sniffling back her tears and swallowing the sob in her throat. She lingered for a moment in silence, watching the dust particles swirl around the model town. Her gaze, initially soft, allowing herself to be at ease watching everything blur, suddenly sharpened. A vivid neon red light flickered on in the model, casting eerie patterns across her face. A soundless gasp escaped her as she saw Betelgeuse’s gravestone had materialized, and above it, a marquee sign surrounded by bulbs flashing in a captivating chase illuminated the words: "I'm still here, Lydia." Panicked, Lydia yanked a sheet over the model, turned off the lights, and rushed out of the attic, locking the door behind her before bolting down the stairs.