#bree writes occasionally

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Restlessness

Summary:

She usually only lets Astarion feed on her while she is asleep. Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better. But she can't get to sleep tonight, so she is just going to have to make do.

Contains: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood stuff (comes with the territory) Word Count: 5,143 Read on AO3

Astarion has been feeding on her almost every night for the past month now. Most nights while she is still asleep, though he is always surprisingly insistent about obtaining direct consent before she moves to her tent for the evening, by this point she has just assumed that the agreement is mutual and that there is little need for him to keep asking. Though she doesn't have it in her to be upset about the courtesy. 

She generally prefers that he drinks while she is sleeping, only knowing that it happened when she wakes up the next morning with a dull throb in her neck and Astarion giving her a knowing smirk from across the camp. 

Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better. 

Being the vampire’s resident midnight snack does occasionally earn her some uncomfortable looks from other members of their little group. Especially after one of the few nights she had been awake for the ordeal and the feeling of his hand moving to her hip caused her body to jolt so intensely that Astarion accidentally tore her throat up with his fangs. Shadowheart dutifully healed it, but gave her a stare so oppressive that even a slight uptick of the half-elf’s judgemental eyebrow would surely have killed her on the spot. 

Astarion did apologize, but then quickly switched to insisting that she needed to let him know next time she decided to experiment with interpretive dance while he was firmly latched to her throat. 

That was the night they both agreed, it might be better if he only feeds while she is out cold. 

This night, however. Sleep will not come. She knows that it has been nearly a day and a half since Astarion has last eaten, any and all the fighting that took place today in the dark remains of Shar’s gauntlet were against foes severely lacking in the blood department, and tomorrow will likely be the same. To be honest, they were lucky at all, to find somewhere safe and quiet enough to camp in this miserable place. 

She rubs her eyes, still sitting upright in her tent despite all efforts to lull herself to sleep. She sighs heavily, tucking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, usually a long day like this tires her out completely, and she is a very heavy sleeper, but today’s journey has left her so exhausted that even sleep evades her. 

The rustling of her tent flap nearly has her topping over with shock, hardly expecting any visitors after the terrible day they had all endured. The realization hits her when Astarion climbs in.

“Oh.” He says, freezing halfway into the tent, “Apologies, you are not usually so…well, conscious, at this time of night.” She had agreed to him feeding on her again this evening, assuming that she would be well asleep by now like usual. She sighs and gives him a wan smile, “Sorry, I can’t sleep.” “I suppose dinner is off the table then, isn't it?” He replies, wearing a smile that seems far tighter than his usual lazy smirk. 

“No!” She says quickly, “Gods no, there’s nothing else for you to eat down here and it’s been almost two days.” Astarion frowns, suddenly becoming very interested in his fingernails, “I can always go back to eating rats if I must, there is certainly no lack of them in this miserable place.” He tries to maintain a casual air, but there is venom behind those words. His voice does return to being playful when he says, “Or, should the situation become incredibly dire, I’m sure that our resident hero would let me have a bite if I asked very nicely.” For some reason, the thought of Astarion feeding on Wyll instead of her causes a thick cloud of jealousy to build behind her ribs. She ignores it, “Just come inside, we’ll figure something out.” she says, shuffling backward a little to give him more room, “And close the front of the tent, please.” 

When he turns back to her and takes a seat on the hard ground, she can’t help but notice just how etherial he looks in the soft orange glow of her lantern. Even on the nights when she does sleep, she prefers to keep the lantern on, both because the darkness makes her uneasy, and because (even though she knows he can see in the dark) it feels like common courtesy to leave a light on for Astarion. 

“So.” He says

“So…” she replies

Astarion sighs, “Look, darling. If you are simply too delicate for me to have my meal while you are awake, I’m sure that I can find a way to occupy myself for now.” He levels his gaze with her, “Something more entertaining than just staring at each other.”

She bristles, “I’m not delicate, I’m just-” she can’t finish the sentence. She’s just what? Too shy, embarrassed maybe, certainly nervous, “I’m fidgety.” she lies, “and I don’t want to cause another…incident.” He laughs, “Oh yes, not willing to suffer another of Shadowheart’s glares, are you?” “No.” She begins, averting her eyes as she feels her cheeks burning, “Not at present.”

“Then what do you suggest? Since you don’t seem to be planning on getting your beauty sleep anytime soon.” She chews on a knuckle, mulling it over. There’s no way she could handle him leaning over her like that again, his scent surrounding her, one of his hands cradling the back of her head as he finally sinks his teeth into the side of her- 

“It might be better, if i’m sitting upright.” She offers. Astarion blinks, “Upright?” “Maybe. I think.” 

It would at the very least, be far less intimate, more clinical. Astarion hums to himself, “As you know, i don’t have all that much experience in the matter, but i can hardly see how you would expect to stay upright and the last thing we need is you cracking your skull open on the ground.”

“Then I would just need something to lean against.” She says quickly, “I just think I would be far better at sitting still this way, that's all.”

“Well, I’m right here, darling.” He says, almost dismissively, upset that she wouldn’t consider it herself, “You could always lean against me.” 

Her eyes widen. That would defeat the purpose of this whole exercise, but she can’t very well tell him that. 

“As long as it wouldn’t make things more difficult for you.” She begins, choosing her words slowly and carefully, “I would at least be happy to try.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” He says, leaning backward a little and letting his thighs fall open, “The last thing this could possibly be for me is difficult.” She stares down at him, eyes wide as she realizes that she has only managed to make this situation worse. 

“Oh….kay” She says, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. In the end she opts to face away from him, sitting cross legged between his legs and shimmying backward until she feels his chest pressed up against her back. She sucks a difficult breath in through her teeth and though he isn’t warm, he might as well be, the way she immediately breaks out in a nervous sweat. 

“Come come, my dear.” He says, his tone hushed as he carefully draws her hair away from her throat, “I’ve had plenty of time to practice being gentle all those nights you were asleep, no need to be so nervous.” She’s more than a little embarrassed at how instinctively she tilts her head to the side for him, almost beckoning him to bite down. It’s not that part that makes her nervous, not at all. It’s that she recalls a conversation, brief and quickly dismissed, that the two had by a campfire many nights ago. A mention of disgust, words spat like bile about the man who forced him to use himself night after night. A disgust of her own, when she remembered how many days she’d spend staring at him, nights under his body as he fed, wishing and wanting for him to touch her. 

She had been far too forward that night, prodding where she shouldn't. Astarion had just laughed, dismissed her concern and refused to elaborate. 

“I trust you.” She whispers when she feels the ghost of his breath on her neck.

Astarion tenses behind her, and she closes her eyes as he descends, waiting for the bite that never comes. His lips press against the side of her throat, softly, lightly, the way a lover might kiss. She gasps aloud, and quickly covers her mouth with a hand, trying to hide the sound. 

One of his hands wraps around hers, gently removing it from her mouth, “No.” he says, pressing another kiss to the cut of her jaw, “Let me hear you.” 

A whimper climbs its way up her throat when he wraps a possessive arm around her, his thumb gently brushing across the lower swell of her breast. She feels his teeth against her neck, not biting, gentle and tantalizing. 

This is what she had been afraid of, that she would encourage something like this and then lack the restraint to tell him no. Her head inclines backwards, resting on his shoulder and releasing a keening moan when he sucks on her pulsepoint. 

“Astarion-” she tries, breaking off into a moan when he slides his hand up and squeezes her breast in his palm. 

He chuckles against her throat, “I do so love hearing you say my name like that.” he croons into her ear, his hand sliding down the collar of her loose linen shirt to cup her breast directly, “Say it again for me, would you?”

“W-Wait, please” She forces out, trying to ignore the growing warmth between her thighs, and the cool press of his palm against her breast. 

At her words, Astarion freezes completely. She can barely even feel him breathing anymore. 

“Yes, of course.” He says quickly, too quickly, there’s something that sounds like panic in his voice, “I- well, I hope i didn’t misread the situation.” “No! That’s- that’s not what I meant, it’s just-” She reaches her hand up backwards until she finds his face, cupping his cheek in her palm, “Astarion…you don’t have to if-“ if you don’t want to, if it doesn’t mean anything, if it hurts too much, or Gods forbid if you think you owe me something. 

He stays still for long enough that she begins to worry she said something wrong, that she overstepped a boundary and he was just going to laugh dismissively again. Instead, he turns his head so he can lightly kiss the palm of her hand. 

“I know.” He breathes, and it somehow soothes all her worries at once, “I know I don’t have to, but I do want to.” She can almost hear his smile when he says, “That is, of course, provided that you don’t want me to stop.”

“Gods no…” she exhales, leaning back against him, “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Good.” He nearly moans, his hand jumping to the laces at the front of her shirt and quickly undoing them until it hangs wide open all the way down to her sternum. It surprises her a moment, how familiar he seems with undoing her clothes, but then she remembers each morning, waking up with a bite at the join between her shoulder and neck. A courtesy, so none of the others would see it, but he would only be able to reach that low by loosening her shirt. 

She feels herself growing warm at the thought, smirking when she asks, “You’ve undressed me before, have you?”

Astarion huffs, licking a stripe up the side of her neck, “Nothing more than was necessary to get at your shoulder, darling.” his cold hands grab both her breasts at once, and he groans, “I was trying to save you from any judgemental stares.” 

Her head lolls backward and she moves her hand to his hair, tangling her fingers in tight. His hands are cold against her bare skin, but she is already so warm all over that any reprieve from the heat is a welcome one. 

“Is this why you could never sit still while I was feeding on you?” Astarion breathes, one of his hands sliding down the front of her torso to rub over the front of her woolen breeches, “Because you couldn’t stop imaging this?” his hand slips beneath her breeches and into her smalls, “Gods…” he hisses through his teeth, “You’re so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Don’t act so coy.” She replies, gasping aloud when his talented fingers dip inside her just enough that she is quivering in anticipation for more, and when his thumb reaches up to circle her clit, she whimpers desperately, “You have all the clarification you need right here.”

“Do I?” He asks slowly, fully removing his fingers from her cunt and resting his hand on her hip, “What if I want to hear you admit it?”

She whines, missing his touch already, “Please…” “No no no, you know what you have to do.” He murmurs, breath ghosting across her neck as he presses another kiss to her skin, “You did lie to me about it earlier, don’t I deserve to hear the truth from your delectable lips?” “F-Fine.” She mutters, shame dissolving into something far more sinful as she finally confesses what she is certain he already knew, “The real reason I asked you to only feed while I was asleep, was because I-” his free hand joins the other on her hips, slowly edging her breeches and smalls down over her thighs, “Because I didn’t think I could control myself.”

He laughs warmly against her skin, fingers just barely skirting around the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, “My my, with talk like that, you’d think that it is I who should be afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should.” She says, trying and failing to maintain a casual air even as his fingers slowly descend, “After all, who knows that I might- nhg!” “Hm? Sorry, what was that?” Astarion asks, two of his fingers now knuckle deep inside of her. 

“I’m h-hardly in a state to offer much witty banter, Astarion.” She stammers, barely even able to speak as his fingers start moving, slow and precise, like he is savoring it. 

“But I do so love when you try.” He smiles against her neck, a third finger easily wriggling in alongside the other two. She goes practically boneless against him, unable to keep her hips still as he curls his fingers upward just right and when his thumb teases another utterly devious circle around her clit she feels herself tightening around his fingers. Astarion groans, hiding his face in her shoulder and grinding himself against her lower back, “Hells, darling, you are perfect.”

One of her hands moves to his thigh, struggling to find purchase as she completely loses herself to the pleasure. If the full weight of her body essentially collapsed against him gives Astarion pause, he doesn’t show it, his fingers never falter. The pace he maintains is utterly languid, slow and warm and wet, fast enough that she wouldn’t call it teasing but like he wants to work for it, to enjoy the luxury of taking his time with her. 

She moans when his other hand returns to her breast, rubbing addictive circles around her nipple with his thumb. Everything starts to turn hazy at the edges, her body is twitching and desperate. 

“Gods…” She hisses through her teeth. Astarion chuckles against her throat, “Come now, darling. There’s only one god here.” she feels the light graze of his sharp teeth, “and he’d much prefer you call him by his name.” “Astarion…” she tries, “Please.” He exhales a shaky breath, but otherwise maintains his composure, “Please what, my sweet?”

She’s on the exhilarating precipice of her climax, barely even able to speak, her body feels so hot that Astarion’s hands nearly burn in their coolness and she can scarcely imagine a world where she doesnt have them pressed against her. Whimpering and mewling under his touch and so unsure of what it is she even wants until: “Bite me!” comes bursting out from her mouth.

Astarion chokes on a breath, and she feels the soft lick of her tongue over his pulsepoint, “Are you sure?” “Yes!” She hisses, practicaly fucking herself on his fingers now, “Gods yes.” She feels more than hears the rumble of his moan, “Do try to stay still.” he purrs, and then sinks his fangs into her throat. The immediate pain feels almost electric jumping from her throat, to her fingertips, to her toes, a quick sharp jolt that is near instantly replaced with a nauseating bliss. 

Her head lolls to the side, relishing in the feeling as he begins devouring her. The beat of her heart is loud in her ears, and the pump of his fingers is no longer so tender, with each movement his thumb brushes firmly against her clit and her whole body tenses. He curls his fingers upward, and her hips cant forward violently. 

Unlike last time, Astarion is quick to pull his fangs from her throat, before any real damage can occur, “You really can’t sit still, can you?” He groans in her ear, his voice void of any of its usual musicality as he grinds himself up against her in time with his fingers. A bubbling laugh escapes her mouth as she revels in the feeling of his length pressed firmly against her lower back, at the way his own hips don’t seem to want to stop moving, “N-Neither can you.” she says through her moans. “What can I say?” He murmurs, mouth slowly returning to the open wound on her neck, “You are positively delicious.” He does not bite again, instead lapping and sucking at the blood as it flows freely out of her. She can barely breathe, lost in utter exhilaration as the lightheadedness takes hold, his fingers curl and thrust inside of her, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she finds herself completely unable to hold back her whimpers and moans. 

Astarion completely covers the bite mark with his mouth, sucking with true fervor now as she teeters closer and closer to her climax. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she frantically grinds herself against his awaiting fingers, the warmth builds and builds in her belly until she feels like she is about to turn to lightning in his arms. 

“A-Astarion, I-” Her words collapse into a desperate, aching moan as she tumbles over the edge, the world turning white behind her eyes and the heat rushing out from her core all the way to her fingertips. The euphoria is so encompassing that she nearly sobs as his fingers begin to slow their movements within her. 

He has the sense not to say anything, at least for a moment, and she can scarcely imagine how she looks right now. Her hair clings to her forehead with sweat, tears are beading in her eyes and- oh gods had she been drooling? She quickly raises a hand to wipe her mouth, and as she is doing so, she turns her head to look at him and oh.

Astarion blinks down at her, and the look in his eyes is heady and lust drunk, but there is something else to it as well, bordering on reverence. His cheeks are flushed, and she knows that can only happen when he has just fed. She swallows thickly at the red colouring of his lips, where her own blood is currently spread. Curiosity does something sinister to her, and she wants to taste it herself. 

His eyes go wide when she kisses him, and wider again when she darts out her tongue lick over his teeth. Astarion’s chest is heaving when she pulls back, his red eyes watching cautiously, as though unsure of her next move. She reaches out and takes his cheek in her palm, his skin is warmer than it was before.

“Your turn.” She whispers, trailing her hand from his cheek, down his sternum to the waistband of his breeches. She looks up at him quickly and is emboldened by the desire she still sees in his eyes, untucking his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He’s all perfect, smooth, porcelain skin, but her eyes can’t help being drawn to the way her rough undressing has left his hair disheveled. She tangles her fingers in it, smiling at how boyishly handsome he looks with his hair in disarray. 

“If it’s all the same to you, my dear.” He breathes, beginning to sound impatient, “I’ve waited for you long enough.” She laughs, edging his breeches and undergarments down over his hips, “So impatient for someone with your lifespan.”

He frowns at her, but she is surprised to find how easily she can tell he doesn’t mean it, “If anything, that should speak to just how much I crave you.” He croons as she swings one leg over his hips, hoving just over his lap, “You should be flattered.” “I am.” She replies with not a hint of irony, “I consider myself incredibly lucky.” Astarion reaches up to her face and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “As do I.”

She wraps her arms around his shoulders to steady herself as she slowly lowers herself down, stutting a gasp when the head of his cock meets her entrance. It’s as cold as the rest of him, and she has to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out when she takes in the first inch. She’s still incredibly sensitive from her first climax, and the coolness of him feels so alien and utterly addictive that she is already panting and whimpering by the time he bottoms out inside of her. 

Astarion lets out a shaky moan when she finally sits down fully, his hands jumping to her waist and his head falling to rest on her shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, just clinging to each other, no sounds but their breathing and the rapid tattoo of her heart. 

When he looks up at her again, Astarion’s smile is utterly salacious, “You have me now, darling.” he whispers, pressing a cool kiss to her shoulder, “Perhaps it would the perfect moment for you to show me some of those, things you have been thinking about doing to me all this time.” 

Astarion isn’t usually that much taller than her, but even still, there is something addictive about their current positioning and the way he has to peer up at her. She tilts her head to the side, taking in the sight of him, his blood flushed cheeks and the glint of his teeth behind his wide smile. 

“Would it be…strange-” she begins, tangling one of her hands in the back of his hair, “-If said that i had often imagined biting you.” “Hah!” Astarion exclaims, grinning broadly, “Well, it would be hardly fair for me to ask you to keep your teeth to yourself, wouldn’t it?” Her brows pull together, “You can say no, Astarion.” His eyes go wide for a moment, and his face is awash with a sudden vulnerability, “I- Yes, I know that I can.” His smile returns, but now the look in his eyes is warmer, softer, “But I don’t want to.” He inclines his head to the side, exposing the length of his throat, “Go on, darling. Let me know how I taste, would you?”

She leans into his neck, breathing in his scent as she presses a soft kiss to his skin. He makes a noise, a startled intake of breath, his hands on her waist gripping tighter and she opens her mouth and bites. Astarion cries out, and his hips stutter his cock deeper inside of her. She moans against his skin, grinding her hips down to meet his and languishing in the feeling of just how well he fills her. 

Her teeth are far blunter than his, and actually drawing any blood would take a considerable amount of force and cause a considerable amount of pain, but even without the taste of blood in her mouth there is still something so delectably perverse about biting down on him, about burying her face in his throat. She moans, kissing from the base of his neck and up to the curve of his jaw, sucking gently on the skin there and smiling when she pulls away to see purple marks blooming on his pale skin. 

Astarion’s breath is heavy when he looks at her, but his eyes are soft and relaxed, “Admiring your handiwork, are you?” He laughs a little, peering up at her coquettishly, “Does it suit me?” She traces a finger over the crescent shaped bruises left by her teeth, smiling at him as she whispers, “Very much so, and now I believe we are even.” “Are we now?” Astarion replies, a mischievous look crossing his face as his hands move down to her hips, “Because as far as I can recall, only one of us has seen stars this evening.” 

“We’ll need to rectify this situation then, won’t we?” She says, her breath quickening as she grinds down on him. 

Astarion’s grip on her hips grows tighter and he chokes on a groan, “You look beautiful up there, my dear.” he thrusts up into her, slowly and deeply, “Sitting pretty on my lap, just for me.”

Her head lolls forward, whining as his cock brushes against that perfect spot inside of her. 

“Look at me.” Astarion whispers, and she tilts her head up to meet his eyes. His breath stutters when he sees her expression, desperate and adoring, “I want to see your face as I’m fucking you, darling.” She giggles shyly, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands and Astarion smiles, “Good girl.” 

He uses the grip on her hips to lift her up and she whimpers as his cock leaves her, only to cry out when he drops her back down. Shifting her weight to her knees, she follows his lead bouncing on his cock to meet him on the upstroke. He never breaks eye contact, staring as her breath leaves her, watching reverently as she pants and moans with each of his movements. 

“A-Astarion…” She moans, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his, “You’re so good, you feel so good.”

He laughs breathlessly, “Would you believe that you feel even better?”

One of his hands moves from her hip around to her front, his talented fingers rubbing encouraging circles on her clit. She keens loudly, digging her nails into his shoulders, “Didn’t I say it was your turn.” She forces out, “You really don’t have-” “You greatly underestimate just how much making you climax arouses me, my sweet.” He groans when he rubs her a little faster, feeling her walls clench around him in response, “I have been thinking about it, constantly.” 

She can feel her orgasm building again, the combination of his fingers and his cock driving her absolutely wild. He’s so warm now, her own growing heat slowly warming his cold skin over time, she wants to grab onto him and never let go. His hips are losing rhythm beneath her, driving his cock up into her with short, stuttered thrusts.  Gods she can feel him throbbing. 

“I’m-I’m close again.” She breathes. 

He groans at even the thought of it, “Good. So am I.”

“Fill me, Gods, Astarion- please” She moans, tightening her arms around his shoulders, pressing him flush against her. 

His own arms wrap tightly around her waist as he fucks up into her at an utterly desperate speed. His breath coming quick and fast, he buries his face in her shoulder, mouthing at the side of her neck, waiting as always, for her permission. 

“Fuck! Yes, Please, bite me!” She cries out, feeling the warmth of her oncoming climax already blooming in her belly, “Gods, Astarion, I am all yours.” His breath hitches at that, the frantic movement of his hips stopping for only a moment, “Mine…” he breathes, and then sinks his fangs into the side of her throat. She can barely comprehend what she is feeling, him all around her, inside her in more ways than one. She’s open, vulnerable, yearning and Astarion is all she ever wanted. 

Her second climax of the night is louder, twitchier, her whole body quivers as it feels like she is shoved over the precipice, her insides clenching desperately around him and her hands digging into his hair as she howls into the open air. 

“H-Hells!” He stammers at the feeling of her coming undone around him, clutching to her as tightly as he can before emptying inside of her. 

There’s warmth, for some time, as the two of them return from the white hot afterglow. She gently runs her fingers through his hair, and Astarion softly laps at any of the mess left on the side of her neck before kissing tenderly over the bite mark left behind. 

“Would you stay?” She whispers, hiding her face in his shoulder, nervous for his answer. 

Astarion chuckles, “Are you that insatiable, my dear? Can’t get enough?” She shakes her head, “No, I mean it. Stay with me until morning, we can talk, or sleep, I don't mind.” His breath is shaky now, and one of her hands comes up to rest on the back of her head, “I don’t really know what we are doing.” he breathes, “But I’d like to try, with you.” She sits up a little, meeting his eyes. There is apprehension there, yes, but more than that there is something warm and real. She smiles, “I guess we’ll have to figure it out together.”

His smile is lopsided and effortless, “Though I’m sure Shadowheart will have something entertaining to say, come morning.”

She laughs, “I’ll have to get used to withstanding her glare, I think, as I plan to make, well, whatever this is, a regular occurrence.” 

Neither of them feels a need to define what they are feeling, or even what comes next. But she smiles when Astarion presses a kiss to her temple, and decides that for now, it hardly matters. They’ll figure it out eventually. 

[mcybree]

rewatching jimmy’s last life pov to ground myself in what his character actually is so I dont let my horrible skewed visions win

[agaypanic]

can u write a chase davenport x baddie like everyone knows she’s fine asf and has no clue why she’s dating him and he’s just super lovey and fluffy

Chase Davenport Dating a Baddie Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: a bit suggestive in one part but that’s it

***

Everyone’s surprised that he pulled someone, period

But seeing that he pulled you specifically?

They act like this is earth-shattering news

Lowkey thought that it was a prank or that he was paying you 

“So, Chase, when are we gonna meet this girlfriend of yours?” Leo asked as he and the bionic trio entered the school. To be honest, they half thought Chase was joking when he told them he was in a relationship, but wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Uh… Oh! Seems like right now.” Chase left his siblings to go to his locker, where you were waiting for him. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him.

“Oh my gosh, she’s gonna slap him,” Adam said as you raised a hand to Chase’s face. But to everyone’s surprise, you used the hand to pull his face to yours and kiss him.

Adam, Bree, and Leo slowly approached you and Chase, clearly shocked. When you pulled away, you noticed them and gave a wave.

“Hey.”

“This can’t be real.”

Chase is absolutely smitten with you

Follows you around like a puppy

He just wants to do anything that’ll make you happy

“Chase, you don’t have to carry my bags.” You tell him, but you still let him take the bag of things you just bought from your hand. Watching his muscles flex as he grips the multiple bags is definitely a plus.

“I want to.” He shrugs, jutting out his elbow to signal you to take it, which you happily do. 

The two of you go through the mall, occasionally popping into another store. Before getting to the food court, you stopped in front of Victoria’s Secret. Getting an idea, you bite your lip to stop from grinning and turn to look at Chase.

“You know Build-A-Bear?”

“Yeah.” Chase nodded, soon perking up. “Oh my gosh, we should go and make mini us’s.” You couldn’t help but smile at the idea and his excitement.

“I was thinking something similar to that.” You say, looking at the store, yourself, and then back to Chase. “More of a… real-life Build-A-Bear.”

Despite being a genius, it took Chase a minute to realize what you were insinuating. But when he did, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really?” He asked. You nodded, and the next thing you knew, Chase was running into the store with the excitement of a child.

Before you left the mall, you did end up going to the real Build-A-Bear.

If you like getting your nails done, he insists on paying

When you let him pick the color, he gets all giggly

Almost always chooses blue tbh

When he chooses the color, you ask for his initial on one of your fingers to surprise him

“Hey!” Chase greeted you as he entered the salon. Whenever he dropped you off, he’d always pick something up for you after your appointment and would come back right when you were finished.

You met him at the counter, where he gave your nail tech his card before looking at the hand you were holding up for him. He held your hand, smiling as he looked at the nails.

“You got my initial.” He softly cooed, thumb brushing over the white ‘C’ on your ring finger. “So pretty.”

You blushed as he kissed your knuckles, taking his card back before leading you out of the salon by your now interlocked hands. Even though Chase had treated you like this since the beginning of your relationship, and you should’ve been used to it, he never failed to turn you into a giggly, bashful mess.

“I got your favorite,” Chase said when you got in the car, handing you the bag of food. You took a bite, moaning at how delicious it was.

“Ugh, I love you.” You said, grabbing his face with a freshly manicured hand and kissing him. He gently latched onto your wrist, thumb rubbing over the joint.

“I love you too.” He said, stealing another kiss before reaching over to steal some of your food.

[panlight]

What is something that you thought when you first read the books and how did that develop over time?

My opinion of Renee was initially a lot more positive when I first read the books. She reminded me of my mom, and my mom isn't by any stretch of the imagination a bad or neglectful mom. She was just the kind of carefree extrovert who liked to try on new hobbies that Renee initially seemed to be. I also didn't read Bella's "I've been running the house since I was six" as literal, I read it as hyperbole. I read the "at least Phil will make sure the bills will get paid" as a joke, since my dad has always been forgetful (but again! in no way bad or neglectful!) and we make similar jokes. I still maintain that Renee wasn't initially meant to be terrible and as SM kept writing books she wrote her worse and worse. Again, I don't think SM would have named the miracle baby "RENEsmee" if she had a poor opinion of Renee. Remember, she wrote Forever Dawn right after Twilight; all the other books, including New Moon and Eclipse, came later. I've since accepted a more negative view of her based on how she has been written in Life & Death and Midnight Sun, and come to realize that maybe SM/Bella DID mean it literally when Bella was doing the taxes as a child.

I thought the James bite was going to be a Big Deal. Bella was, as far as we know, the first person to be bitten by a vampire and NOT die or turn, and that, to me, should have been a big thing?? But it's not? It never went anywhere? Other than to occasionally look at her silvery scar. I had initially thought it could have gone in so many interesting directions (did the experience work like an inoculation and now she's immune to venom? could they use her blood to great a cure? conversely would it slowly be turning her into a vampire? or give her some kind of powers?). I still feel like this was a HUGE missed opportunity, and while i still wouldn't have loved the halfpire baby and 'Bella's the best newborn ever' plot points, using this one-of-a-kind situation with James' bite could have at least been a way to explain them better. Maybe she was able to conceive BECAUSE she had that exposure to venom; or maybe that exposure was what made her able to skip all the newborn stuff. Like this one was thing where Bella WAS legitimately special and unique and SM didn't really do anything with it.

A minor one, but when I first read Eclipse and it talked about how Bree surrendered and "only Carlisle would think of offering" and I originally read that as Carlisle offered surrender to all the newborns and Bree was just the only one who accepted. I had this image of him standing on a rock in the clearing being like, "We don't want to fight! This isn't your battle! If you surrender we will spare you! We are merely defending ourselves and the town!" as the raging newborn horde is running toward him until Jasper and Emmett have to drag off the rock before the newborns overrun him. The Eclipse movie and Bree Tanner book ruined that interpretation, haha.

[dolladooley]

there was you | chase davenport

cw: spike

a/n: first time writing fr for this blog ! it was fun and i hope u enjoy :) this takes place in season two. gif credit goes to me 💯

-

chase was never the most... socially adept kid. he wasn't objectively cool, popular, or even likable. he was the odd kid. the nerdy one. even before he was allowed out of the lab, there was a clear and noticeable difference between how adam and bree behaved and how he did.

it had its consequences.

too many people had pushed his buttons, one of them being his very own brother, and he snapped. before he could process it, spike had come out to play.

it didn't take long for spike to start wreaking his havoc. cafeteria tables were flipped, the jocks were (once again, for some reason) covered in pudding. students were shouting both instigations and admissions of fear.

you could hear the commotion from the floor above. curious, you slowly wandered down the stairs, immediately taking notice of the panicked silhouettes beyond the cafeteria door's blurred glass. you looked around awkwardly as if anyone else was in the area before you continued your adventure towards the noise, gripping the handrails. and just as you were slowly reaching out to the cafeteria door open, it flung open and you were pushed back. laid out flat on the floor, you rubbed the back of your head and looked up, and the sight you were met with was not at all what you were expecting.

chase.

as if he didn't see or feel you, he aggressively walked toward a locker and ripped the door off its hinges. you squinted at him before you were startled by him throwing the blue metal on the ground. it slid beside you with a loud clang as he turned back to the cafeteria.

"who wants to join that pathetic piece of metal?!"

oh.

of course that wasn't chase. you knew better. you remember learning about this side of him.

the bionic side, that is.

how could you forget it? when you saw him nearly wax the floors with his own body at the sound of the school bell, you couldn't just turn a blind eye. no way. that's when leo just told you everything. he had new bionic siblings. you struggled to buy it, and thought maybe chase was just really autistic or something, but after they demonstrated with a feat of strength, speed, and a forcefield, you opened your mind a little more.

you'd heard of chase's hulk mode, but you never saw it first hand. you were unsure of what to do, but looking towards his siblings, it didn't seem like they had any ideas either. bree and adam were rather frantic. they never knew how to neutralize chase when his commando app was activated. leo tried to play hero and run at him with a chair but he got scared and dropped it, retreating to hide behind adam. you resisted an eye roll.

as for spike, he was on an absolute rampage. he felt great. but then he turned slightly to the right... and there was you.

in chase's eyes, you were a saving grace. an angel. yeah, he liked you. it was hard not to. fortunately for him, it wasn't obvious to you, only to everyone else.

he often thought about the day he met you. he freaked out at the bell, and you offered him your headphones for the day. he never realized people could be so kind. his whole life, he'd been belittled by his brother and his father, and even his sister would poke fun at him occasionally. but then there was you. you were there for him. you hadn't even known him, and you were there for him. the following days and weeks that ensued, you continued to be friendly, and thus continued to be a highlight of his life. deep down, in spike's subconscious, chase was there, and he knew you would be the one to release him from his mental prison.

he was so busy throwing stuff, he didn't notice when you started barreling toward him.

"chase?!" you stood up, running towards him and pulling him aside with all the strength you could muster. "chase! calm down, man-- breathe!"

he snarled at you, and you stepped back cautiously with an glint of fear in your eye.

he huffed.

commando app disengaged.

"...[name]?"

"yeah! yeah, it's me. are you okay?"

he pondered on the question. looking at you, he could see concern had replaced the fear in your eyes.

and now that you were here, he felt fine.

"yeah... yeah, i'm okay."

[1heartfanfics]

5 times John B helped clean JJ up and one time JJ did the same for John B

Okay so tarlos from 9-1-1 lonestar won the poll by a landslide but I'd already started writing this. I'll do that one next I promise.

This will be long.

TW: depictions of vomit, violence and abuse

Shouldn't really be any spoilers cause none of this is specifically canon. Also definitely canon divergent from season 5.

...

#1: 10 years old

John B saw it happen in slow motion. JJ was popping a wheelie on his new bike when the back tire caught on something, sending JJ flying over the handlebars to skid through the dirt.

"JJ!" John B yelled, running over to where his friend was laying on the ground. When he reached JJ he dropped down onto his knees in the dirt. JJ looked like he was in shock. He was laying on his side, staring blankly at one of his hands, which was scraped and bloody.

"Hey, JJ, are you okay?" John B asked, shaking his shoulder gently to try and snap him out of it. Still no response. "Jesus Jay," John B muttered, starting to look over JJ to assess his injuries. He had road rash all up his arms and down his legs where skin was exposed. His shirt was ripped, exposing a long cut on his side.

"John B?" JJ asked, having snapped out of his shock from the accident. He started to try and roll over but froze as soon as he moved, hissing in pain.

"Woah, hey, try not to move okay J?" John B said quickly, "You're pretty cut up but I need to make sure nothing's broken. Did you hit your head?" John B asked.

JJ shook his head, "Don't think so."

"Okay, good," John B continued inspecting his friend for injuries, checking each of his limbs and feeling for any bumps on his head. Thankfully nothing seemed to be broken, but JJ was bleeding a lot from all of the cuts and scrapes.

"Alright, nothings broken or anything serious, but we need to get you cleaned up. You think you can walk?" John B asked.

JJ nodded, managing to slowly get to his feet with John B's help. He draped his arm over John B's shoulder and let his friend help him walk back to the chateau. John B brought him to the bathroom and helped him sit on the closed toilet lid, then ran to grab the first aid kit.

When John B got back, JJ's eyes were closed, squeezed tightly shut with pain as all of his wounds throbbed. There were tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Hey," John B said, crouching down in front of him with his supplies. "It's gonna be alright J, I've got you bro," he said.

JJ opened his eyes and gave John B a watery half-smile, nodded worriedly.

"This is probably going to hurt, but I promise it'll feel better after. You can squeeze my shoulder or something if you want," John B offered.

JJ nodded again, "Just do it," he gritted out, leaning forward slightly to grab John B's shoulder for something to hold onto.

They were just kids, yes, but this wasn't the first time JJ had gotten himself hurt doing something stupid. John B had seen his Dad do this for both him and JJ many times, so he knew what to do. He used a damp washcloth to clean the blood and dirt from all of the wounds, one at a time. Then he used spread some antibiotic ointment over them, and covered them with bandages as best he as he could.

JJ's grip on his shoulder got tighter and tighter as they went, but John B didn't mind. Occasionally JJ would grunt or hiss in pain, but he otherwise kept quiet.

"All done Jay, that was the hard part. Now we just gotta get all the dirt off of your face and out of your hair," John B said when he was finished.

JJ nodded silently, tears cutting tracks down the grime on his face. John B used a new rag to wipe the dirt from JJ's face, then helped him turn to lean over the side of the bathtub so he could clean JJ's hair using the sprayer. When he was done, he helped JJ towel dry his hair and then got him some advil to help with the pain.

"Thank you Bree, you're a good friend" JJ said once he was all cleaned up, laying in John B's bed, eyes already drifting shut with exhaustion.

"Anytime dude," John B answered.

...

#2: 12 years old

"John B?" JJ's voice called from the front of the chateau. He had a habit of just showing up, but it had been like that their whole lives so John B was used to it.

"Hey man I'm back here," John B called back, he'd been trying to patch up a hole in the ceiling that kept leaking water. It had been raining for like 3 days and the bucket he'd put under the drip kept filling up.

"Hey," JJ said, voice closer now. But something was wrong. John B turned to look at his friend. JJ was soaking wet and filthy, covered in mud up to his knees and elbows, even smeared on his face. Thankfully he'd taken his shoes off so he wasn't tracking it everywhere, but he looked a mess.

"Jesus christ what happened to you?" John B asked, stepping down off the step stool he'd been using.

"It's like a swamp out there dude, kept falling over cause my feet would get stuck" JJ said, forcing a laugh.

"Did you walk here?" John B asked incredulously. This was the worst storm they'd had in years.

"Bike wouldn't start," JJ shrugged, avoiding meeting John B's eyes.

"You must be freezing," John B sighed. JJ shrugged again, but an involuntary shiver gave away the real answer.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." John B said, gesturing for JJ to follow him to the bathroom.

He turned the shower on, then grabbed a towel from the closet and set it on the counter. He reached under the sink to grab a plastic bag for JJ's clothes.

"Alright, put your clothes in here and we can throw them in the wash. I'll grab you something of mine you can wear for now," John B said.

"Thanks JB," JJ nodded, still not looking John B in the eye.

"Hey. Are you okay?" John B asked, ducking his head to meet JJ's eyes.

JJ shrugged. His favorite answer today apparently. "I'll be alright," he finally answered, looking away from John B again.

John B sighed. He knew something must have happened at home, but sometimes JJ was like this and he knew better than to push.

"Alright, I'll grab you some clothes and then I'll just be in my room trying to fix that damn leak. Take all the time you need okay? And holler if you need anything," John B said, reaching out to give JJ's shoulder a quick squeeze.

JJ nodded slightly, then turned away and started to get undressed. John B stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to his room. He grabbed a t-shirt and some sweatpants that he thought would fit JJ and slipped them in to the bathroom through the cracked door. Then he pulled the door shut behind him and headed back to his room.

And if John B heard JJ crying quietly while he cleaned himself up, no he didn't.

...

#3: 14 years old

"You're not driving home are you?" Kie asked as JJ walked - more like stumbled - toward his bike.

"S're I'am," JJ slurred.

"You're not letting him drive home are you?" Kie asked, turning her attention to John B.

"No. Jay, come on. You're staying here tonight," John B said, grabbing JJ by the elbow and pulling him away from his bike.

There had been a party on the beach, which had just wrapped up, and JJ was drunk. No, not drunk, wasted. Smashed. Plastered. Whatever word you wanted to use, it applied.

"M'kay," JJ shrugged, falling against John B as he tripped over his own feet.

"Jesus dude," John B mumbled, wrapping an arm around JJ's waist to help keep him upright as they walked the rest of the way to the house. While John B was nowhere near as far gone as JJ was, he wasn't exactly feeling the most stable himself either.

"Alright," John B sighed, "Let's get you inside J," he said, although he wasn't sure JJ was even with it enough to know what he was saying. He was leaning more and more heavily on John B as the seconds passed.

John B managed to drag JJ inside and deposit him onto the couch, where he slumped over the arm ungracefully.

"I'm gonna go get you some water okay? I'll be right back," John B said. He didn't get a response, but he hadn't really been expecting one. JJ might be blacked out.

He walked to the kitchen and filled up two cups of water, taking a few sips out of one himself before walking the other back for JJ. It was going to be kind of a chore to try and get JJ to do anything in this state, but he knew his friend would be hurting pretty bad tomorrow if he didn't at least drink a little water before passing out.

"Hey, brought you some water. I need you to try to drink some," John B said, sitting down next to JJ on the couch.

JJ groaned in response.

"Come on man, you'll thank me later I promise," he said, wrapping his arm around JJ's shoulders to pull him into an upright position.

"JB? Think m'gonna puke," JJ mumbled.

"Like right now?" John B asked, looking around for something he could quickly grab.

JJ answered him by puking all over himself.

"Crap," John B jumped up off the couch, hovering in front of JJ for a minute, unsure of what to do.

JJ looked up at him, seeming about as surprised by this development as John B was.

"Okay," John B said, taking a deep breath to pull himself together. He was not sober enough for this. "We gotta get you cleaned up," he said.

John B grabbed JJ under one arm, pulling him to his feet. JJ was immediately unsteady, stumbling then sagging against John B's side.

"Move your feet JJ," John B instructed, dragging JJ forward. Although very uncoordinated, JJ did manage to take some steps, helping John B get them to the bathroom.

John B sat JJ down on the edge of the bathtub, leaning him against the wall so he wouldn't fall over. He reached over to start the shower, then turned his attention back to JJ.

"Think you can manage a shower by yourself?" John B asked.

JJ looked at him, blinking slowly, but his eyes weren't focused, almost like he was looking right through John B. The only verbal answer John B got was a groan, which he took to be a 'no'.

"Alright," John B sighed. "I'll leave your boxers on, but I'm gonna have to take these clothes off you," he said.

JJ didn't respond, so John B forged ahead. He carefully pulled JJ's tank top over his head, managing to avoid getting any of the puke on either of them in the process. Then he pulled JJ to his feet, letting him slump against his chest as he pulled JJ's shorts over his hips. He quickly tossed the clothes into the sink then moved to help JJ into the shower.

John B cringed as he wrapped an arm around his practically naked best friend to help him into the shower and lower him down to sit in the tub. They'd always been close... but this was a line they'd never had to cross. John B hoped JJ wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow.

John B let go of JJ for a second to reach up and grab the showerhead, when JJ pitched forward with a gag, bringing up more of the alcohol in his stomach. At least this time it went down the drain instead of all over his pants.

"Alright man, easy, I've got you," John B said, crouching down to rub JJ's back as he continued to heave over his lap.

"M'too dr'nk JB," JJ groaned in between gags.

"Yeah Jayj, I know," John B sighed. He pulled his own shirt off too, as it was getting soaked anyway.

Thankfully, JJ seemed to be done actively puking and was now just hunched over in the shower spray, breathing hard. John B reached up to grab the shower head to spray the rest of the mess down the shower, then to hose off JJ.

"JB? Dizzy..." JJ groaned, sagging against the shower wall.

"You'll feel better soon bud, we just gotta get some water in you and get you to bed," John B said, reaching over to turn off the shower then grabbing a towel off of the rack behind him. "Try to dry off okay? I'm gonna go grab you some clothes," he added, before heading to his bedroom.

When he returned with a change of clothes, JJ had managed to stand up and was drying himself off, leaned against the wall. Maybe the shower had sobered him up a bit.

"Think you can get dressed or do you need help?" John B asked.

"Can do'it," JJ answered, holding a hand out. John B gave him the clothes, thankful that JJ could at least do this part on his own, since it would require him being truly naked.

"I'll just be right outside if you need me okay?" John B added as he saw himself out, shutting the door behind him.

A few minutes later JJ stumbled out of the bathroom, fully clothed and free of vomit, which was a significant improvement over his state for the last hour or so.

John B managed to force a cup full of water into JJ before he passed out. After draping a blanket over JJ, John B grabbed the trash can from the bathroom, placing it next to the bed near JJ's head, just in case. Then he drank his own cup full of water and fell into bed next to his friend. He had a feeling they were in for a rough day tomorrow.

#4: 16 years old

John B hadn't heard JJ come in. He usually announced his presence, rather loudly. But this time he just appeared around the corner, sagging against the doorframe to the living room.

"JJ? Woah, hey, what's wrong?" John B jumped up off the couch. He moved to JJ's side, grabbing him by the arm to support him. JJ didn't answer, so John B helped him over to the couch.

And then he got a good look at JJ in the light and he knew exactly what had happened. Luke.

John B had known about what often went down at the Maybank house for years, but they never talked about it. Not that John B hadn't tried. He worried about JJ, and things had only gotten worse as they'd gotten older. But JJ always brushed it off, made a joke, and changed the subject.

This was worse than usual though. The black eye and the split lip was pretty standard, but the gash dripping blood down the side of his face and the hand shaped bruise on his neck? Fuck.

"JJ, what the hell?" John B asked softly, unsure of where to start.

JJ didn't answer, he just ducked his head, looking away from John B.

John B sighed, "Alright, let's just get you cleaned up," he said. He reached out and gave JJ's shoulder a quick squeeze before leaving to grab some supplies; first aid kit, damp rag, ice pack.

"Here, take this. Wherever hurts the most," John B said as he sat down in front of JJ, handing him the ice pack. JJ silently took it, pressing it against the side of his neck.

Then John B set to work cleaning up the cut on his face. It started above his left eyebrow and arched back into his hair. It was jagged, broken beer bottle he was guessing?

Once he had dabbed away most of the blood, he taped down a bandage down over the cut as well as he could. He swiped the cloth over JJ's lip, which was already looking swollen, making JJ wince in pain.

"Sorry," John B said, "Anywhere else?" he asked.

JJ still didn't say anything, but silently pulled up one side of his shirt, revealing another decent sized cut across his ribcage. John B bit his lip. This was bad. But JJ clearly still wasn't ready to talk about it. So he just nodded, and cleaned up the cut quietly.

"There, all fixed up," John B said. "You okay?" he added hesitantly.

JJ shrugged, which was more of a response than he'd given so far, and it was far from his usual joking deflection, so John b supposed that was progress.

"You want some tylenol? Water? Just tell me what you need man," John B continued.

This wasn't the first time he'd cleaned JJ up, not by far. There had been many biking accidents, drunken nights, and yes, fights. But they usually pretended he'd gotten the black eye from some kook, even though they both knew who had really done it. This felt different, heavier. And John B didn't know how to handle it.

For a long moment, JJ still didn't say anything. Then quietly, "I thought he was gonna kill me."

"Oh JJ," John B sighed, opening his arms to offer his friend a hug.

And before he knew it JJ was sobbing into his shoulder. John B wrapped his arms around JJ's back, holding him tightly as he cried.

"You're safe here Jayj, you're safe," John b repeated, over and over like a mantra. He didn't know what to say. Because it wasn't alright or okay and it wasn't going to be anytime soon. But as long as he was here, with John B, safe was something he could promise.

#5: 18 years old

"Yo, JB!" JJ called, already rounding the corner into John B and Sarah's room. He wasn't exactly good with boundaries, something Sarah had been forced to come to terms with.

"What's up dude?" John B asked, glancing up from the book he'd been reading.

"I need a favor," JJ started, sitting down on the bed next to John B. "So, I'm trying to do a thing today..." he trailed off.

John B set his book down, raising an eyebrow at his friend, who was acting strangely. JJ was fiddling with his hands and staring down at the floor. He seemed... nervous?

"You're doing a thing?" John B prompted.

"Yes. With Kie." JJ said.

"You're doing a thing with Kie? I'm gonna need a little more than that Jay," John B replied.

"I'm gonna ask her. To marry me," JJ finally spat it out.

"WHAT?! Oh my god JJ that's amazing," John B jumped up off the bed in surprise, hauling JJ up with him and wrapping his friend up in a big hug.

"Pipe down big guy," JJ shoved him off, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

"So?" John B asked, "What's the favor?"

"Can you help me, like, look decent. Or whatever?" JJ asked, recessing back to the squirmy, nervous demeanor he'd had when he first came in.

"Aww look at you, getting all dressed up for Kie," John B gushed, wrapping an arm around JJ's shoulders and making him blush furiously. "Come on, let's get you all cleaned up," he continued, laying it on thick.

"I hate you," JJ groaned, pulling away from him.

"No you don't," John B laughed. "You go shower up and I will find you something to wear," he said, shoving JJ down the hall toward the bathroom. "And you should actually use a comb for your hair!" he called after him.

"Yeah, yeah," JJ muttered just before he shut the bathroom door behind him.

Truthfully, John B couldn't have been happier for his best friend. He was so damn proud of him. JJ had come so far in the past few years, and it seemed like he was finally happy.

About 10 minutes later, JJ came back into the room with a towel around his waist, hair combed. John B nodded in approval, then showed JJ the options he'd found.

JJ settled on a short-sleeved Hawaiian button-up situation with a pair of khaki's and some sandals. It wasn't exactly business casual, but for the outer banks, this was about as dressed up as you could get.

"How do I look?" JJ asked, doing a little spin for John B once he'd gotten dressed.

"You look great man," John B said, clapping him on the shoulder, "You clean up pretty good."

JJ laughed and rolled his eyes, but John B could tell that he was happy with the look. "Thanks JB," he said.

"Of course man," John B nodded. "Hey, seriously though dude? I'm proud of you. And I couldn't be happier for you and Kie," he added.

"Slow down tiger, she hasn't said yes yet," JJ joked.

"She will Jayj, she will."

*P.S. she did

#6: 20 years old (John B)

JJ was awoken to someone banging on their front door and Kie shaking his shoulder.

"Wha?" he asked groggily. It was still dark outside.

"Go get the door," Kie whispered, nudging his shoulder again, as if trying to push him out of bed.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, sighing as he slid out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of shorts before heading downstairs to see who the hell was banging on his door at god knows what hour of the night.

He flung open the door, ready to go off on someone, but then "John B?" JJ asked, shocked to see his friend standing in front of him.

"Hey," John B said quietly. He was soaking wet from the rain, ghostly white in the light of their porch, and shaking like a leaf despite the muggy summer air.

"What the hell happened to you?" JJ asked, grabbing John B's arm and pulling him inside, shutting the door behind him.

"S-sorry, I k-know it's late but S-sarah's visiting w-wheezie and, and-"

"Woah, hey, it's all good man, just relax," JJ interrupted, "I've got you," he added, grabbing John B's shoulder to pull him in for a hug. He could feel the warmth radiating off of his friend, which explained the feverish delirium John B seemed to be in.

"JJ? Who was it?" Kie called, slowly moving down the stairs to see what was going on since JJ hadn't come back right away.

"I got it Kie, you can go back to bed," JJ told her.

She took a few more steps down until she could see JJ and, “John B?” she asked in surprise. "Is he okay?" she added, watching as John B leaned more and more of his weight against her husband.

JJ gave her a half-shrug half-nod and a small smile to let her know that he had it under control. She nodded in understanding. John B and JJ had always had a special bond, sometimes they just needed eachother. So she headed back upstairs.

"Alright, let's get you cleaned up with a shower and then we'll find some medicine cause boy you are burning up," JJ said, shifting to wrap an arm around John B's waist so he could guide him to the bathroom.

He helped John B sit on the counter while he got the shower turned on and grabbed a towel. Then he slipped out for a moment to run upstairs and grab some spare clothes for John B to wear.

"What's going on Jay?" Kie asked as he entered the bedroom.

"Don't know exactly yet, he said Sarah's gone for a couple days and he's kind of out of it. Running a pretty good fever, but he seems freaked. Nightmare maybe," JJ shrugged, grabbing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that he thought were just big enough for him that they'd fit John B.

"Poor thing, he walk here in the rain?" she asked in concern.

"Think so," JJ nodded, "Don't wait up okay? I might be a while," he told her, leaning over to give her a quick kiss before he headed back downstairs.

John B had managed to peel off his wet clothes and get into the shower. JJ picked up the wet clothes and tossed them into the washer in the mud room next door, then returned to set the fresh clothes out on the counter.

"I brought you some clothes JB, they're just on the counter," JJ said.

He could see John B's silhouette through the shower curtain. He was sitting down on the floor of the shower, knees to his chest.

"You okay in there?" he asked when he received no response. John B hummed in what JJ hoped was agreement.

"I'm gonna get you some water and some medicine and then you can meet me out on the couch when you're done okay?" JJ told him. "Holler if you need me," he added.

"Mkay," John B mumbled back, which was a slightly better response. So JJ stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked so he would be able to hear John B if he did need anything.

He walked to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water and grab a few advil tablets from their designated medicine cabinet. When he got back to the living room, he could still hear the shower running, so he set the water and the pills on the coffee table then worked on gathering some pillows and blankets to get John B set up on the couch.

A few minutes later, John B opened the door to the bathroom, walking slowly over to JJ and sinking down next to him on the couch. Almost immediately, he leaned against JJ's side.

"Shower help any?" JJ asked, draping an arm over John B's shoulders.

"Yeah a little," John B shrugged.

"Good, good. Think you can tell me a little bit more about what happened?" JJ said.

John B sighed, "Sarah left on Monday to go visit Wheezie." After taking a shaky breath, he continued "You know it's, it's still just hard sometimes, like at night. Being alone." John B looked down at his hands, which JJ could see were shaking.

"Nightmare?" JJ asked in understanding. He was no stranger to them himself, especially when Kie wasn't home. John B nodded.

"I still get 'em too," JJ said, "You're also running a fever, which probably didn't help," he added.

"Yeah, woke up shivering, with my head pounding as bad as my heart," John B said.

"Here, take these," JJ handed him the pills and the water, which John B obediently took.

"Thanks Jay. Sorry, I know it's late. I can get out of your hair now, I just needed someone for a minute," John B said.

"Woah, cool your jets bro, you're not going anywhere. If you think I'm letting you walk back home in the rain when you're sick and shit then you've got another thing coming," JJ told him.

"Are you sure?" John B asked, although he looked relieved.

"Of course, couch is all made up for you," JJ said, gesturing to the pillow and the pile of blankets.

John B nodded, moving to lay down. JJ stood up, grabbing a couple of the blankets to drape over his friend.

"Thank you," John B whispered, eyes already drifting closed.

"Anytime Bree, we're just upstairs if you need us," JJ said, giving John B's shoulder a squeeze before he headed upstairs to get some sleep himself.

[goodstories08]

Chase x m!reader fic where they’ve been trying to get alone time all day and when they finally do and start making out they get caught by Bree

Alone Time

Chase Davenport X Male Reader

Ability: Force Field (The Bionic Ability to create and manipulate force fields)

“Don’t be a pusy, get back up and fight him,” I yell at a whimpering dark haired boy. In front of him stood one of my top students, Jason, a powerful pyrotechnic who I might have turned into a killing machine. “Please I…” The boy was cut off by the sound of Jason roaring, a flame erupting from his mouth.

I sighed and flung my arms out ahead of me, a blue glow spreading through my veins and projecting out in front of the scared boy, blocking the fire from harming him. “W-what he could have killed me, you can’t do that!” He yelled while picking himself up from the cold concrete floor. “Ahh correction I can do that, I’m the teacher here. And no you were not going to die, I wouldn’t have allowed it. Yet…” I mumbled the last part sarcastically before turning to Jason. “Good job, but next time take it easy on the scariness,” He mumbled something in an annoyed tone before walking away. “Just practice ok, you’ll get there eventually.”

The boy nodded and opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off, “Sorry got to go, talk later ok.” He simply stood there as I ran toward Chase, my boyfriend who also happened to be training annoying and immature bionic kids all day. “Chase, Oh my god I’ve missed you so dam much.” He giggled as he pulled me in for a kiss. “I’ve missed you to. Had a whole new team to train, drained the life out of me,” I smiled and looked around the empty room. “Looks like no one’s here, how about we…”

“SLAM!” I looked over toward the door where Mr. Davenport stood, “Hey you two, I’m not interrupting anything important right?” We both sigh before sadly saying “No”.

“Great, I have some paperwork to fill out. I was gonna ask Chase to help but your here too so why not. I need all the help I can get so let’s get started,” I looked up from the table I sat at as a giant pile of yellow folders and loose papers came crashing down in front of me. “Dammit,” I muttered under my breath before grabbing a small pile and beginning to fill it out.

As the day grew longer we both longed for each other more. And any chance we got we would be pulled away by someone else.

Currently me and all the other trainers where sitting around a huge table listening to some boring lecture Mr.Davenport was droning on about. No one was really paying attention except Chase, who was scribbling notes on his little planner. I looked around the room bored out of my mind, except for the occasional times Adam would make a funny face or add a stupid comment that made us all laugh.

I turned toward Chase and rubbed my leg against his. His head shot up and he mouthed “What?” I looked him up and down while licking my lips before turning back around to face the board Mr. Davenport was pointing at. I smiled as I heard Chase shift in his seat uncomfortably. Was I evil I’m for teasing my boyfriend in the middle of a meeting, yes, I was but I did not care. I did know that he was definitely gonna see me after this thing though.

The meeting ended after about 10 minutes, it was supposed to go longer but there was a bionic meeting emergency with two kids getting injured in a bad fight. But I mean hey, at least we are finally gonna get some alone time. Chase stood by my side like a shadow as everyone left the conference room, I felt his eyes burning into my skull as he adjusted his tie. I finally turned toward him and slowly walked closer. “I see you got a little exited during the meeting,” I say in a seductive tone as I pulled his tie down toward me, drawing his lips closer.

“Maybe I was, but who’s fault was that,” He mumbled before pulling me by my waist into a passionate kiss. I moaned into it as he lifted me on to the table, I wrapped my legs around his waist as my hands wondered his muscular chest. I unbuttoned the first button on his shirt before, the doors to the room swung open, I quickly pushed Chase off me. My eyes widening as I realized it was Bree. “Wow! My brother couldn’t keep it I his pants for just a while longer could he?” Bree muttered before running away with her speed, probably on her way to tell Adam. “Screw it! I haven’t seen you all day come here!” Chase demanded causing my smile to return.

[drunken-devotion]

lil intro!

my names bree! i rant a lot. any pronouns i hardly care :3

usually yapping about les miserables or phantom of the opera, occasionally something else

absolute nerd for classic literature and musicals

i do art and cosplay and sometimes dabble in writing every once in a while, never hesitate to send me a dm about my interests too!! i’m a lil awkward but i LOVE talking to people who share my interests <3

banner gif made by me !! from lasagnatrades

[luna-redamancy]

Thank you so much for your reply! I'd really hate to make you uncomfortable...

But since you said that and your requests are still open, could you, please, write one post-sex fluff with Fili? Last night in Bree, before Fili has to go to Bilbo's and set on the quest, he wants to bide his kinda secret (Kili knows, but the 'lovers' are yet to come up in conversation with anyone else) lover goodbye...? Neither is crying, but when he leaves the inn, it still tastes bitter-sweet.

Thank you so much!! 🌸💜💜💜💜🌸💜💜💜💜🌸💜💜💜💜🌸💜💜💜💜🌸

Awe no worries!! I appreciate being asked ahead of time, it's always so nice to double check!

I hope you enjoy this!

“I didn’t know what I wanted from the future,” Fili’s voice broke the after-sex silence as you two laid in each other’s embrace. Neither of you had moved since you met your peaks and snuggled up under the blanket. You knew you had to clean up eventually, however, you didn’t want to move as you realized this may be the last moment you share with him. 

His hand was warm as it encased your own, thumb rubbing on the back of your hand in soothing circles. 

It was just the two of you in this moment, no sneaking from prying eyes of Dis and Thorin, no fear of having to separate in case someone knocks on the door. Everyone else in the inn had gone to bed, and even if they hadn’t, the room was reserved under a pseudonym, no one could know it was you two. 

The only sounds were the fire crackling in the background and the occasional groan of the trees outside as winds pushed and pulled on their branches. 

“Didn’t?” You replied, voice barely above a whisper as to not shatter the tranquility. An unspoken question in your reply- what changed?

“Yes…Didn’t. I didn’t know what I wanted from the future but then I met you,” His words drifted off as his unoccupied hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face towards him. 

“Ever since then, all I think of when I think of what I want from my future is you.”

“Oh Fili,” You slipped your eyes shut, clinging onto the sensation of his hand cupping your cheek and for a moment tomorrow was not a thought. Tomorrow wasn’t an expectation nor reality, just a fleeting nightmare. 

“I love you,” He spoke so softly, it was almost hard to hear. “I love you with all my breaths,” He leaned in to press his forehead against yours. An act of love and connection. 

“And I love you, Fili,” You opened your eyes to stare into his, the cerulescent oceans of his eyes were something you could stare at for hours, if time would let you. 

The two of you fell into silence once more as you stared at each other, trying to imprint the other into memory.

Once upon a time you had hoped that at the last moment he would tell his uncle he couldn't go, to admit to the world the love he shared for you. But no, that was selfish to think of and to want as you know how important this quest is to him and to his family. 

“Please be safe,” This time it was you who broke the silence, rubbing your nose against his as he kept your foreheads gently pushed together. 

“My heart couldn’t bear it if you got hurt,” Or worse, you thought but didn’t speak it as he adjusted his position to press a kiss to your lips. 

Usually his kisses felt vibrant, exuding love and excitement to be in your presence. But this time it felt almost woeful, like he was grasping a way to hold onto you whilst knowing he had to pull away. 

“I will do my best, my love,” He reassured when he pulled back, not moving very far as he kept himself as close as he could to you. 

“That’s all I can ask.” Those were the last words you two shared as the two of you fell into a deep slumber. You wished to have said more, however, not wishing to taint this last moment with sadness you curled into his embrace even further, his heartbeat lulling you. 

-

As the morning sun rose and spilled in through the inn window, you awoke. Turning over, you reached out to Fili to grasp onto him, the sheets warm and cozy, almost lulling you back to sleep. 

However, as your hand fell upon coldness, you were brought fully into reality. You examined the rumpled fitted sheet, clear that he had slept there, but the blanket and top sheet were wrapped in you. He had tucked you in as he left. 

You grasped the pillow he slept on, the smell of him still lingering. As you brought the pillow under the blanket to hold onto like it was him, you let out a shaky breath as your eyes slipped shut and you deeply inhaled through your nose. With your eyes shut, it was almost like he was with you. 

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[daveth-isnt-dead]

Coalescence part 1/3

Part Two

Summary:

She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter. The question rises once again, unbidden. What are we? AKA: She works with Viktor for seven years, she is in love with him for five of them.

Contains: she/her pronouns, supremely slow burn, me pretending to know what science is

Word Count: 7,722

Read on AO3

What are we? She wonders, sitting across the room from the two brilliant minds behind Hextech. Not friends, certainly; colleagues barely. Strangers, probably. She hadn't exactly been looking for assistant work, but after years of flitting between different fields of study but never finding anything that really stuck, an assistant position offered her the freedom to study whatever she pleased without the looming threat of expulsion should she continue skirting the requirement of choosing a major. Heimerdinger had a hand in this, of course. She’s noticed recently, he’s had a hand in a great many things. Didn’t want to forsake a bright mind over some simple indecision, he’d argued, and then tossed her headfirst into the very new Hextech lab without much of a warning. 

She mostly sits in the corner, brings coffee even though neither of them ever actually asks for it, and works on her own research well out of the way of whatever potential explosion brews on the other side of the room. They had a lengthy discussion the day she first joined, both of them up in arms as if Heimerdinger had just assigned her to keep an eye on them. He had, but she had very little interest in doing so and told them as much. 

“I keep to myself.” She’d said, “You’ll forget I’m even there.” Then, remembering that she was supposed to be an assistant, added, “Unless you need something, of course.”

They rarely ever need something, at least not something that they can’t already work out between the two of them. She feels a bit like a hanger-on, and an unwanted presence, but it’s better than expulsion. So she ignores the other side of the room as best she can and quietly flips through a textbook about whatever has her attention that month. Most recently it’s pottery, and she hopes that she might be able to sneak out of the room and try her hand at the wheel in the fine arts wing of the academy before it’s locked for the evening. 

She peers up from her textbook to look at the clock on the wall. It’s just an hour until then and from what she can hear behind her it seems they are still very much in the middle of something. They probably wouldn't even notice if she were to go missing. 

So she closes the cover on her book and tucks it under her arm, spinning around in her chair to announce that unless they need anything, she’s headed to another department for the end of the day, only to stop in place when she realises that Jayce is missing. “How long has he been gone?” She asks, more to herself than anyone else. 

Viktor, who’s hunched over a pile of notes on the other side of the room gives her a dismissive gesture over his shoulder and doesn't even bother turning around. “Only fifteen minutes, he’s getting dinner.”

“I could have done that.” 

He shrugs, “He thought you seemed busy.” and then, peering at her over his shoulder, “He also thought the walk might help clear his head.” She clutches tightly at the book under her arm, suddenly feeling a bit guilty about her plan to leave early, especially with the sun already setting and Viktor now alone in the room. She bristles, almost defensively, “He really should have asked me to do it, that’s the only thing I ever do around here.”

Viktor hums, “Indeed.” She wants to get angry at first, to snap at him. It wouldn't help any though, it’s not like the two of them really wanted an assistant. How infrequently they ever ask for her help is proof enough. They wanted her here as much as she wanted to be here: very little. Even still, they’re stuck together and letting Viktor have it over something that wasn’t his fault would only make things worse. So she bites her tongue. 

“What did he need to clear his head of?” She asks, trying to wrench something from him that might result in at least a shred of goodwill, “Are you having trouble?”

In the month or so that she’s been sequestered in the back corner of the lab, she hasn't overheard anything more than a minor setback, the occasional explosion. Though in her mind, an explosion is still at least a lesson in what not to do. Progress is progress. This is the first time she’s seen either of them truly stumped. 

“We’re at the edge of a breakthrough.” Viktor replies, “But we cannot seem to get over it.”

Decision made, she places her book back down on the desk and starts walking over to the other side of the room, “Hard spot to be in, are you just going through your notes?” He sighs, “For now, yes. Though it hasn’t helped any.” 

His desk is large enough that there’s space for her to lean up beside him. He looks tired when he peers up at her, though from what she’s seen of him, that’s pretty normal. Positioned where she is, she covers up most of the setting sun as it streams in through the window, all but for one perfect beam of it that slices down the right side of Viktor’s face, straight across his eye. Her head tilts, had they always been so golden?

“Do you want to talk through it? I’m a good listener, and saying it out loud is probably more helpful than just re-reading your notes for the hundredth time.” His brow creases, and he leans back a little further in the chair. The beam of light hits his hair now, making it shine almost orange, “Eh, I suppose it couldn’t hurt, at least until Jayce comes back.” he tilts his head in the direction of Jayce’s desk, “Go get his chair, he won’t mind.”

She does as he says, wheeling the chair over and parking herself beside Viktor, resting her elbows on the desk. He shoots her a look out the corner of his eye, and she quickly removes her elbows. “Sorry.”

“Be careful with the things on my desk, I’d prefer it didn't become more disorganised than it already is.”

“Duly noted.” She replies, instead resting her hands in her lap and rotating her chair to face him a little more directly, “Ready when you are.”

She doesn't understand all that much about his explanation, though there are little moments here and there that resonate with her, or that sound familiar enough that she can grasp the concept. Some parts she recognises from hearing the two of them talking about it behind her, but overall she’s just stunned at his retention and how quickly he elaborates on such complex topics. She leans forward in her chair, watching intently at his sharp gesticulation and the way his brow creases when he struggles to find the right word. She nods along even though she doesn't completely understand because the important thing is to get him thinking about it, whether she understands doesn't matter one bit. 

“-but we’ve already established that it cannot be done that way, so all of that work just needs to be thrown away and-” “Why not?” He stops mid-thought, eyes darting to hers, stunned to hear her speak after so long. He laughs, incredulous, “Why not ? We’ve already tried it and imploded.” She still doesn't quite understand the difference between imploding and exploding, but it's irrelevant, “Did you figure out why?”

“It was too hot. We couldn’t produce enough power inside of the casing without it imploding. We did try reducing the power and adjusting the-” He cuts himself off, suddenly turning back to the desk and resting his chin in his palm. His eyes dart across the various notes and blueprints sprawled there and then after a few agonising moments he lets out a breathless chuckle, “We never tried adjusting the casing for airflow.” She smiles, the feeling of it on her lips aching with an unfamiliar fondness, “There you go.” she stands from the chair and heads back over to her desk, “I suspect you’ll be busy until Jayce gets back, then. So I might head home.” a glance at the clock confirms that the fine art wing will be well closed by now, but she finds herself not minding all that much, “Enjoy your dinner.” At first, she thinks that he isn't going to answer, the room filled with the sound of a desperate pen scraping on paper, but just as she reaches the door, he whirls around in his chair and says, “Thank you, for permitting me to talk at you for almost an hour. It helped.” What are we now? She wonders. 

“I’m glad.” She says.

___

What are we? She can’t help but ask herself, giggling at Jayce’s face when his finger is met with a strong zap from a prototype that Viktor had just told him not to touch. 

She still sits on the other side of the room, still makes her way through a growing pile of assorted textbooks (philosophy, currently, operatic theory last month). But now it’s different. Now Jayce calls her name with an excited wave whenever they make a new development, and Viktor regularly uses her as a springboard when he can’t get his own thoughts straight. Her favorite thing though, is when she and Jayce sit cross-legged on the floor to eat lunch, unwilling to move any of the notes and prototypes strewn across the desks to create space for eating. Viktor is hard to pull from his desk, even at lunch, but with enough prodding from Jayce, he will at least spin his chair around to face the two of them while he eats instead of remaining hunched over his work. 

“Okay! Okay!” Jayce says, instinctively shaking his injured hand as if to dissipate the last of the electricity, “Don’t touch, I get it.”

Viktor huffs, but she can tell he doesn’t really mean it, “All this time and he still doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.” his head inclines in her direction, his expression of false irritation shattered by the crooked curl at the corner of his lips, “Can you believe this? Even after my warning.” Another laugh bubbles up and out of her, “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s touched something he shouldn't.” Jayce points an accusatory finger in her direction, “Hey! You know I didn’t realise that pastry was yours, you can’t keep holding this over my head.”

Viktor quips back with something that she doesn't quite hear, and she just laughs before spinning her chair back around and returning to her textbook. The three of them must be friends now, she thinks, peering over her shoulder to see that Jayce and Viktor have returned to working on the prototype. At the very least, they like her well enough to tell her what they are working on, even though that information is still strictly confidential outside of the lab. She has their coffee orders memorised, which must mean something. It's been over six months now and while she doesn't have much to offer scientifically, she likes knowing she's there to bounce ideas off when nothing seems to stick. She smiles to herself, flipping through her newest textbook, but retaining very little of it. The new prototype behind her is loud , it's the sort of sound she could easily tune out if it wasn't constantly stop-starting and fluctuating in pitch. 

From behind her, she hears a sudden panicked stream of consonants leave Viktor’s mouth and then the aching pitch of the prototype’s whirring begins to climb and climb until there’s a loud thunk when Jayce shuts off the power. Though her shoulders tense up beside her ears, she doesn’t feel the need to turn around, “Everyone alive back there?” 

Jayce lets out a breathless, nervous laugh, “Yep!”

She hears the rhythmic click of Viktor’s cane as he crosses the room and then after a moment he says, “Just having trouble getting the new prototype to resonate the way the older one did.” “Hah.” She replies, “Just be careful, another interval up and we will have lost our windows.” Silence for a moment, and then Viktor asks, “ Why? ” She spins around in her chair, the two of them are standing by the prototype, both blinking at her owlishly. Her brow furrows, “The sound.” she says, gesturing in the direction of the machine, “It’s hitting just an interval down from a high C. It’s the resonate frequency of glass, a loud enough noise matching the pitch will-”

“Yes!” Jayce exclaims, beaming wide, “The glass would begin to vibrate and then shatter.” Viktor hooks his cane over his arm and leans backward against the desk, “And this is good news, how?” She stands from her desk, buzzing with excitement, “Your resonance problem. Maybe it isn’t just about the power being produced by the crystal, maybe it’s also about the sound .”

His eyebrows jump, and then settle into a thoughtful crease as he cups his chin with his palm. “If organic magic is cast by humans, it wouldn’t be a far reach to assume that there is also a vocal component.” he hums, “If we could find a way to adjust pitch without reducing power then…” he smiles and his eyes meet hers, “You spend a good deal of time in the music wing, yes?”

She nods, “Tuning forks?”

Viktor’s smile grows wider, “Ah, like you’ve read my mind.”

She isn’t used to walking around the halls of the academy with another person beside her. Though she’s pretty comfortable with Viktor and Jayce inside of the lab these days, they rarely, if ever, spend any time together outside of it. She arrives later than they do in the mornings and leaves earlier than they do in the evenings. These days she also goes out for lunch on her own and brings the food back with her. So she keeps peering over at Viktor to make sure she is matching pace with him, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides because she doesn’t know what she should be doing with them. 

“You study music, then?” Viktor asks after several minutes of walking in complete silence. 

She startles at his voice, not expecting to hear it, “On and off.” He hums, “You keep busy.” “I usually lose interest if I stay with one subject too long.” She admits, tucking her hands in the pockets of her slacks.

The silence returns, thicker than before. Viktor’s cane clicks on the tiles, the sound at least keeps her in tempo with him, so she doesn’t need to focus as hard on how quickly she’s walking. She takes a quick peek at him and sees that he’s just staring forward. The two of them are passing by a set of windows and his profile looks very sharp when backlit by the afternoon sun. It isn't often that she sees him outside the dim lighting of the lab. His eyes turn to meet hers and she quickly busies herself with picking the already cracked nail polish on one of her fingers. 

“Have we been of interest to you, then?” He says, the corner of his lips turning up in a smile, “Enough that you haven’t lost it?” She hadn’t really thought about it, for the most part, she still considered her time in the lab a requirement from higher-ups at the academy, but was that all it was anymore? She shrugs a shoulder, “For now.” she smirks, “Hard to lose my attention when you continually blow things up.” Viktor tuts, “There hasn’t been a single explosion this past month, besides, it’s all part of the scientific progress, yes?”

“If you say so, I’m not exactly an authority on the subject.” The two of them turn a corner and the angle of the sun changes, Viktor squints a little when the light hits his eyes, he sighs, “To think I was about to say that it’s nice to be out in the sun.” He lifts his free arm to cover his face from the light. 

She laughs, ducking her head to hide her smile, “It’s just upset with you for spurning its advances for so long.”

His brows settle in a scowl, but she can’t help smiling wider when she realises that it doesn’t reach his eyes which instead shine with a playful warmth, “Very funny.”

“I try to be.” She increases her pace a little, turning around to face him. Her backward steps slow at the sight of Viktor awash in the bright light of the afternoon sun, squinting his eyes to keep her in focus. Her continued smile is almost involuntary as she beckons him closer, “C’mon, just down the hall. If we’re quick we can get you some more sun exposure on the way back.”

The older version of the prototype hums on the bench before her, crystal spinning in a consistent whirl. It’s far less refined than their newer attempt, still assembled with whatever pieces they could find around the lab and the metal casing jitters and quakes a little under the strain. She still likes the older prototype better, all its rough edges and shaky frame, it’s a whole lot less commercial than that new chrome casing they’ve been working to perfect, but progress is progress, she supposes. As she lays three of the tuning forks out in front of her, Viktor and Jayce peer down at her expectantly and she isn’t used to feeling intimidated, so she doesn’t like it all that much. 

“I’m pretty good at picking notes by ear.” she begins, “But it’s more uh…mechanical sounding than I’m used to, zippy-” her brow creases, “or zappy? Maybe?” she gestures to the forks, “it’s somewhere within this range though.”

“Go on then!” Jayce says enthusiastically, “Give it a try!” She sucks a breath in through her teeth and grabs the fork that’s tuned to a G4, lightly tapping the prongs on the corner of the bench. The vibrations run up from her fingertips all the way to her elbow and the sound is inconsistent at first, until she raises the fork up vertically and holds her hand still. From behind her, she hears a sharp exhale of breath and then Viktor’s voice much closer than she was expecting. 

“Got it in one.” He says, and she peers over her shoulder to find that he’s leaned in closer to observe. He smiles, “You do have a good ear.”

He’s right, the sound emanating from the fork matches the ethereal pitch coming from the Hextech prototype so exactly that the two sounds begin to merge. She can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips, “Well, I guess the two of you need to figure out how to get your new prototype to hit a G4.” She spins her chair around and passes the tuning fork to Viktor, the sound comes to an abrupt stop when the prongs make contact with his palm, “My work here is done, I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

She has the weekend off, and the day she comes back Jayce immediately grabs her hand and tugs her over to the other side of the lab with such enthusiasm that she almost topples over. She doesn't even have time to put down her bag. He beams from ear to ear as he positions her in front of the bench the prototype has taken up full-time residence on. Viktor is sitting at the bench, finishing up some last-minute wire connections when she arrives. He spins his chair to face her, and removes his goggles (leaving red rings around his eyes that she resists the urge to tease him about later) before rolling himself out of the way.

“Watch!” Jayce says enthusiastically, stepping towards the device and turning it on. As before, the crystal begins to spin, faster and faster, the casing whining under the pressure as the power builds but fails to resonate. Then from the other end of the desk, Viktor picks up a small remote connected by a set of wires and as he adjusts the knobs, the sound that the crystal creates adjusts in pitch, warbling and quivering until it settles confidently on a perfect clear G4. 

A laugh escapes her, unbidden and she oddly feels like she might start crying. Jayce grabs both her hands and exclaims, “We did it!” “You did it!” She returns excitedly.

“ We did it.” Viktor corrects, and she suddenly realises that we now includes her. 

Friends. She confirms to herself, standing up on her toes so she can wrap her arms around Jayce, she gazes at Viktor from over his shoulder and is pleased to find his eyes look especially warm when he smiles. Friends, she reiterates. 

___

The next six months pass quickly. With the resonance problem fixed, the rest of the research and prototype building seemed to come easily, with only a few notable explosions. Most of the work was still theoretical and Viktor spent hours glowering at the blackboard while Jayce put things together and then pulled them apart. Lots of the original prototypes were cannibalised for parts and she hates to see them go. Jayce was a good sport when the first prototype they ever made had to be put in storage to clear up space, laughing with her as they wrote a terrible farewell poem for it. Viktor did rest a comforting hand on her shoulder as she acted out an exaggerated goodbye to the project because even though the faux waterworks were in jest, it was as if he could somehow tell that her insides ached at the ever-persistent march of change. 

Much of the stress in the lab was around the looming threat of presenting their ideas to the council for more funding, diagrams needed to be drawn and chicken scratch notes needed to be copied into a much more legible format. That was her job for a while, hunching over her desk and transcribing notes, yelling at Jayce over her shoulder for his miserable handwriting and calling Viktor over for translations on what she started affectionately calling ‘Viktor-isms’ 

“You can’t keep giving new concepts names without explaining what they relate to.”

He scoffed, “I think it’s fairly obvious what an AOE Expansion Stabalisor is.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, incredulous, “Will it be obvious to Councilor Hoskel?”

Viktor cringed, “Ehh…allow me to draw up a diagram.”

Her best asset these days is her ability to boil down complicated concepts to their most simple forms. To essentially translate the inner workings of geniuses to something comprehensible by the layman. She has a large bound book that she is compiling all of the most essential notes into and a presentation that she is helping Jayce to draft. 

“Oh, I’ll help you write it, but I’m not speaking.” Jayce huffed, “But Viktor says he doesn’t want to speak either! It’ll just be me up there.” She laughed and gently punched him in the shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll knock ‘em dead, big guy.”

They aren’t just friends anymore. They’re something else. Something closer to family. She spends more time in the lab than she used to, abandoning her textbooks to instead work on the presentation, to sit and listen as Viktor goes on one of his hour-long rambles that slowly starts to become more comprehensible the more she listens to them. She likes listening to them. The smiles on their faces when she first decided to come in on a weekend even though she didn’t have to are still burned into her brain. Jayce’s smile was as bright as it always is, while Viktor’s was subtler, quieter; but to her, it was utterly incandescent and she couldn’t shake it from the corners of her mind for the next few hours. 

“Miss?” A voice says, ripping her from her musings and back into the present.

She blinks a few times, remembering where she is and then replies, “Sorry, Professor Heimerdinger, what did you ask?”

“No worries at all, dear girl.” He says, adjusting himself in his seat, “It’s been over a year now since I first asked you to work in the Hextech lab and I just wanted to make sure the three of you were getting along.”

“We are.” She replies sincerely, “Very well.” Viktor falls asleep in the lab sometimes. One winter afternoon she found him asleep at his desk and couldn’t bear to wake him up, so quickly and quietly, she left the lab and hurried across campus to her dorm room to grab one of her spare blankets. He hadn’t stirred while she was gone, so she took the time to tuck it around his shoulders before returning to her desk. Jayce cames in an hour later and she gestured furiously to Viktor’s sleeping form before he could let out one of his usual, very loud greetings. Holding a finger to his lips, Jayce nodded and they both silently returned to work. The blanket lives in the lab now. 

“That’s good, very good,” Heimerdinger says with a nod. His white eyebrows curve in a sympathetic arch and he leans forward in his chair, “I know that it was a shock to find that your patron had withdrawn their support last year, and while this likely wasn’t what you wanted I hope that it was of some value to you.” He laughs, “Though I do also think those boys need someone keeping an eye on them.”

She laughs, “Even now? They’re making steady progress, I’m not certain they need much monitoring.” “I know from experience that a scientist can so easily become trapped in a box of his own making, but with all your studying and your knowledge across such a wide breadth of subjects, I’m not sure those boys could keep you in a box if they tried.” He smiles softly, “They need that, or they won’t get anywhere.”

“Oh… thank you.” She mutters, pretending to be very interested in whatever is going on outside the window to avoid having to reconcile what sounded like a very genuine compliment. 

“You don’t have to stay in the lab with them if you no longer want to.” Heimerdinger says quietly, “I’m essentially your patron now and I can easily assign you to another department if-” “No!” She says sharply, then shakes her head, “Sorry, that was rude. Um, I mean, no thank you. I’m happy where I am.” Heimerdinger chuckles to himself, “Well then, are you majoring in the sciences after all?” She snorts, “ No , I don’t have the brains for it.”

Two weeks ago she caught a miscalculation in Jayce’s notes, prevented the destruction of yet another prototype. It was just pattern recognition though, she’d become so familiar with the strings of numbers and formulas in their notes that the anomaly practically screamed out to her in bleeding red writing. She was better at understanding what they spoke about now, and able to help with wiring when either of them needed extra hands, but that’s just retention, muscle memory.

Despite her depreciation, Heimerdinger smiles knowingly, “That, I find hard to believe.”

Just a week later she sits next to Viktor in the council room, eyes darting across the expressions of the council members trying to gauge any sort of reaction. She knew they had Councillor Medarda’s vote at the very least, but she’d never even been in the council room before now and had absolutely no way of knowing what direction each of them swayed. 

He must see the look on her face, because, in hushed tones, Viktor starts giving her the limited information he has, “Hoskel will vote the same direction as Medarda” he begins, leaning close to her ear,  “Kiramman has a soft spot for Jayce, Heimerdinger has hopefully swung in our direction but other than that, I have no idea.”

She swallows and turns to look at him, “No, thank you, that helps.” she heaves an uneasy breath in her throat, “I don’t like it in here.” Viktor chuckles, “Me either, but look at Jayce go, there’s a reason he’s the face of this operation.”

It’s true, he’s a natural. While she sits completely tense in the shadows, he gesticulates just enough and speaks at just the right volume. She spent so long helping him to perfect the script for the presentation that she can practically follow it along with him. 

Then it comes time for him to show the new prototype, the final version, the one that sings a perfect G4 and resides in a casing that doesn’t rattle or whine even when the gemstone is generating full power. She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter and they both hold their breath as Jayce activates the prototype. 

A clear and beautiful G4 fills the room, an angelic hum that sounds like magic in and of itself. When all the tensed muscles in her body release, it takes all her willpower not to burst into tears or laughter of utter relief and when she turns to Viktor he looks exactly the way she feels; exhilarated, soft and warm after months of anxiety just melted from him. He smiles and oh god. 

The question becomes more singular, we now refers to two people instead of three and oh god , what are we?

___

What are we? She wonders one year later, frozen in the doorway of her childhood bedroom, holding her breath as if it will prevent him from noticing she’s there. Viktor stands beside her single bed, weight resting on his cane as he leans forward to peek at the old doodles she pinned to the corkboard years ago. He’s smiling. 

Bringing both Jayce and Viktor to her father’s house had not been on the docket earlier in the day, but sometimes fate has its own ideas. The next and hopefully last presentation to the council is coming up tomorrow morning and they have spent the last few months working on a 1:250 scale recreation of the final idea. It took a long time, but it’s finally gotten to the point that they can reliably transport a medium-sized object from one side of the room to the other and if they push the power, they can even manage to move something halfway across campus. 

It was her idea to provide a more accurate visual aid, that if they were planning to push the project as a vessel for trade routes, the council would likely grasp the idea better if the object they were transporting actually looked like a dirigible, instead of the old metal crate they had been using during tests. While Jayce agreed with the idea, it had come pretty late during preparation and he was worried that there wouldn’t been time to get it finished while they also worked together on drafting the presentation. It was Viktor who insisted on building it. 

“I used to assemble these sorts of contraptions for fun .” He’d said, already arranging a collection of metal pieces on his workbench, “Besides, I’m going to be far more useful working on this than I am working on your script.” He peered at her from over his shoulder, “I don’t share your gift for linguistics.” 

So while she and Jayce poured over notes and collected the most legible blueprints they had available, Viktor tinkered at his desk, welding and folding metal. It didn’t take him long at all to finish it, two whole days in the lab with very brief breaks for meals when she or Jayce forced him to eat something and a trip or two to the textile department for the fabric components. She had a great deal of fun inflating the miniature airship and shooting it back and forth through the miniature Hexgate, but the night before the presentation they were overcome with concern at just how long it took for the dirigible to appear on the other side of the room. 

Viktor huffed and pushed his hair out of his face as he stared at it, “It should only take a second for it to make the journey, but now it’s taking four .” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “It must be something to do with the shape? Previously we were using a square object, far less complex.”

So he and Jayce set to adjusting the prototype while she made a few last-minute changes to Jayce’s speech. The problem came when they tested the Hexgate one last time, they had overcorrected and the dirigible emerged on the other side of the room at a greater forward velocity than they had been expecting and collided directly with a pile of discarded scrap metal. Her head shot up from her desk just in time to watch as it started falling to the ground, kicking her chair out from behind her and diving for the airship, letting out a grunt as the heavy object landed in her arms. 

Luckily she had been quick enough on her feet to prevent any structural damage, but the collision had torn a hole in the fabric and unless they managed to get that fixed before the sun came up, it wasn’t going to fly during the presentation. 

“It’s okay!” She said quickly, the moment she caught the look of quiet horror on the inventors’ faces, “The textile wing will be closed, but I have a sewing machine.” “In your dorm?” Jayce asked, expression quickly losing the air of misery it had just a moment ago. 

She grimaced, “No. not in my dorm and you’ll both have to come, I can’t carry this thing on my own and I probably need to disconnect the fabric so I can put it through the machine.”

Presently, her hand grips tightly to the open doorway, still holding her breath as she watches Viktor rest his cane against the bedside table and take a seat on her childhood bed, leaning down quickly to rub at the muscles in his bad leg. When his eyes dart up and he sees her, he freezes, “Oh, hello.” he clears his throat, “I got lost.” She snorts, “How could you get lost in a two-bedroom house?” she leans against the doorframe, unable to stop her smile, “You’re a terrible liar.” “I wasn’t lying.” “If you say so.” She replies, looking down at her toes just to avoid the broiling gold of his eyes, “I’ve got the machine set up on the kitchen table, so if you’re done snooping -” “I wasn’t snooping .” He interrupts. 

She crosses her arms, finding that she likes the incredulous expression he’s making, almost as much as she likes seeing the sharp lines of him juxtaposed with her soft floral bedsheets, “Then what were you doing?”

He sits up straight, loosely gesturing to her corkboard, “Admiring your work.” His expression settles into a soft smile, “Were you looking to study textiles when you joined the academy?” It’s been a long time since she’s been in this room. She visits when she gets the chance, but always heads back to her dorm instead of staying the night. The corkboard is covered with old clothing designs, swatches of fabric, and a button here and there. She shakes her head, “No, not really. It’s uh, it’s the family business. I haven’t thought about it all that much since taking up studying.”

“You said that your father wouldn't be here.” She nods, “He’s at the workshop, tomorrow is the busiest day of the week. He usually stays there the night before so he can get a head start in the morning.” a sigh escapes her, “My mother used to force him to come home every night, but, well…” Viktor doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. 

“My patron was one of my father’s customers. He offered to do his alterations free so long as he took care of my patronage at the academy.” She chews on her lower lip, not really sure why she is telling him all of this, “I think he expected to make some money from me, that I was some sort of genius, but I was indecisive and refused to major in anything, so he withdrew support.” Viktor laughs, “Bad luck for him then.” he says, wincing a little as he pulls himself back up from the bed, “You’re one-third of Hextech now.” She hums aloud as he crosses the room, shifting in the doorway to give him space to slip past. “Yeah,” she replies and the hand not on his cane rests briefly on her upper arm as he passes, lingering maybe a little longer than it needed to, “I guess I am.”

Her body goes slack against the doorframe, her chest expanding with a warm sigh as she watches him turn the corner to the kitchen, clearly not lost. Their relationship hasn’t changed all that much in the past year, they joke around a lot more and physical contact is more common, though it’s little more than a hand on a shoulder or the usual tight handholding at any and all presentations they give to the council. They’re friends, she reasons and whatever in her heart is telling her that it’s something else is just causing problems, an unnecessary ache. She sighs again, peering into her bedroom and imagining him still sitting there, smiling at her. It’s only when Jayce calls her name that she manages to recollect herself, calling out a quick, “I’m coming!” before they start wondering why she’s lagging behind.

___

Has something changed? She wonders. Even with the tall ceilings and open windows, the ballroom she’s trapped in feels suffocating. She sucks a shaky breath in through her teeth and continues clutching the stem of a champagne glass she’s been holding for over an hour now without actually drinking it. Jayce is planning to give an address shortly, about the success of the recently completed Hexgates, but he rightly refuses to start until Viktor arrives and it’s been long enough that she’s starting to worry he may have decided not to come altogether. 

The last two and a half years were the most difficult for the three of them. A project of such an enormous scale takes up a lot of time and a great deal more hands than the team alone could provide. Viktor quickly learned that he hated working with other people, and most nights at the lab were spent making changes to blueprints, running tests and complaining about the construction team. 

“I swear-” Viktor began one day, furiously scribbling notes on a blueprint, “-I wouldn’t be surprised to find that one of those people ate all of our crystals just because I didn’t specially label them inedible .” She’d laughed, sitting at the desk next to him and updating the construction resources with less technical language, “Be nice. If I hadn’t been eavesdropping on you for three years I probably wouldn’t know what any of this stuff means either.” Viktor sighed, “You’ve done much more than eavesdrop .” his pen stilled for a moment and his golden eyes met hers, “I can be nice, I promise.” Without thinking, she’d let her head drop to rest on his shoulder, “I know you can.” He made no move to shift her off of him, even though the weight of her head was surely going to affect the use of his dominant hand. After a lapse of comfortable silence, he let out a chuckle and inclined his head in her direction, “That cannot be comfortable.” “It’s not.” She admitted, “Your shoulder’s pointy.” “and yet you are not moving.” “That’s right.” 

“Suit yourself.” He replied, his voice barely a whisper. Before quietly returning to his writing.

Jayce grabs her attention from across the room, gesticulating wildly. She knows him well enough to immediately recognise that he is asking if she has any idea where Viktor is. All she can respond with is a concerned shrug before pointing to the nearest door, implying that she will go look for him. Jayce smiles in thanks and then returns to the gaggle of investors surrounding him. The champagne finally gets drunk, it probably would have been nicer an hour ago when it was still cold, but she needs two hands to maneuver her dress. The glass clinks when she leaves it on the nearest flat surface and starts heading to the doors, half considering never coming back, whether she finds Viktor or not. 

Not that she ever makes it through the door, because she almost bumps headlong into him as he makes his way inside. 

“Viktor!” She exclaims, half shocked and half relieved to see him. 

His mouth twitches up in a smile, “Sorry I’m late, outfit problems.” Her eyes dart down involuntarily. His suit is mossy green and the colour brings out the gold in his eyes. He looks good and she is about to say so when she notices the rudimentary steel and leather brace on his leg. Her chest cavity fills with the ice-cold chill of dread and Viktor must see it on her face because he quickly supplies an explanation. 

“Never many chairs at these things.” he says, gesturing to the brace, “A precautionary measure.”

She wants to believe him, wants so badly to believe him. The calculations all match up in her head though, him an hour late, the brace clearly made and not purchased. Four and a half years is a long time to watch someone, especially when watching as intently as she has been for at least the last two. He places more weight on his cane than he used to, and struggles to do anything that involves both hands while standing up. Even from across the lab, she can hear the way he hisses each time he has to rise from his chair and when the setting sun streams in through the window the same way it did that first month in the lab, the shadows settle deep in the hollow of his cheeks. 

“Good idea.” She forces herself to say, ignoring all of the evidence because any other explanation would be preferable. Instead, she returns to what she had intended to say from the beginning, a truth far less daunting, “You look very nice, by the way. Can’t even tell you had outfit problems.” He laughs, though it sounds a little too much like a wheeze, “You’re too kind. Anyway, let’s go find Jayce before he starts worrying.” They’ve already missed the boat on that one, Jayce is in the midst of a nervous sweat when they make their way over. His eyes also dart down to the brace on Viktor’s leg, but she watches in real-time as he dismisses the thought, gives the both of them a quick hug and shakes the nerves off before his address. 

“I’m surprised you survived so long without me,” Viktor says cheekily as Jayce heads over to grab Councillor Medarda’s attention. 

“So am I.” She replies, peering up at him with a smile, “You know I hate these big events.” Viktor returns her smile and his face melts into such a warmth that all the signs of deterioration seem imaginary for just a moment. Somewhere across the room, Councillor Medarda clinks her glass to grab the attention of the room, but right before Jayce begins his address, Viktor leans down to her ear and whispers, “You look very nice too, sorry I didn’t say so earlier.”

The feeling of those words resonates so warmly in her chest that she can’t resist holding onto them and just as Jayce steps forward, just as the usual nerves begin to set in, Viktor’s hand reaches out and grabs hers tight. The way it always does. She smiles softly to herself and rubs her thumb across the protrusion of his knuckles in thanks. Maybe nothing has changed, not really, she might just be imagining it. Even if the bones in his fingers feel more pronounced. 

Applause fills the room when Jayce finishes, at one point he even has the good grace to point out where she and Viktor are standing in the crowd, which she hates , but knows she should appreciate. He’s his usual ball of sunshine self when he comes over, beaming wide and wrapping his arms around the two of them. 

“That went great !” He exclaims, hands still shaking with the usual adrenaline associated with speech giving, “I can’t believe that we’re closing the chapter on Hexgates, whoo!” Viktor chuckles and pats Jayce on the arm, “It’s still early days yet, lots of time for things to go wrong and lots of modification on the horizon.” “I know, I know . It still feels good though, doesn’t it? To have finished something?”

She laughs, “This is probably the first thing I’ve ever finished in my life, so thank you.” her eyes drift to Viktor and then quickly back to Jayce, “Both of you.”

“To finishing things!” Jayce exclaims suddenly, and follows up with, “Wait, we need drinks, one second!” “A veritable font of energy as always,” Viktor says a few seconds after Jayce disappears.

“Pretty sure he’s already had a few drinks.” Viktor looks at her cheekily, “For the nerves, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, definitely just for the nerves.” She replies, watching as Jayce gets caught by another throng of investors on his way over to the bar. She sighs, “Poor guy, I’m glad I don't have his charisma.” Viktor hums aloud, “Do you think he’ll know to check the balcony when he comes back?”

“It’s only the place we always frequent at these events.” His eyes light up, “That’s a yes, then?”

“Always will be.” She replies, trying not to get lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. She clears her throat, “Let’s hurry, it’s too hot in here.”

It’s like a shock of electricity when his free hand presses against the small of her back and when she peers up at him to find he is already looking down at her, the question rises once again, unbidden. What are we?

[medium-bloodcrafter-scion]

WHY DOESN'T NATASIA VISIT /TRY TO RESCUE SEL? : A Theory Spiral

The problem with having huge gaps of time between books is that my imagination goes haywire and starts filling in the gaps with all sorts of theories, from the plausible right down to the completely ridiculous.

I've been so gripped by Natasia's story in LB Cycle and am writing a fic (editing it currently, may or may not post, will see 😊) focusing on conversations between Natasia and Sel during his "curing" process.

So with my mind on the Natasia Kane Train, here's my compilation of theories (yes some are ridiculous) explaining why she never tries to connect with her own son.

1. She's wracked by guilt and regret and other complicated feelings so doesn't bother.

3. She's accepted that he "belongs" to the Order and trying to connect with him would only bring up questions that would endanger both of them (most plausible one I feel). Knowing Sel, he'd probably assume Natasia was a demon and try to kill her (pre- LB discovery).

4. She shapeshiftts into a crow/pigeon/squirrel and watches him from afar throughout his life.

5. She secretly falls pregnant with Erebus' baby #2 just before her escape and can't risk too much contact with the outside world, except to occasionally visit Faye, who knows about the secret child.

6. Erebus warns her that if she tries to contact Sel, he won't try to keep her off the Order's radar so she concludes it's too risky.

Side theory: Natasia has been really careful to avoid being caught. That being the case, did she deliberately mesmer Bree at the hospital, knowing that she would have inherited her mother's ability to break mesmer and hoping that Bree may dig deeper to find out what was going on? Or was it just a slip up?

7. Something horrible happens to Natasia if she tries to see Sel. Like some kind of Oath /curse situation. Sel being brought to her, however, doesn't trigger it because technically she didn't break it (we've seen how Oaths are really sensitive to technicalities).

8. Lastly, she just doesn't care. I sincerely hope this isn't the case, because poor Sel really deserves a break :(.

We can see him grappling with this possibility in BM when he bitterly says his mother "only makes special appearances for you (Bree) and your mother." Maybe I'm optimistic, but the "Natasia doesn't care" theory doesn't seem plausible to me because from our brief glimpses her, it's implied that she's at the very least more empathetic than most Merlins (she befriends a Rootcrafter!) so I can't imagine her completely not caring that she has a son running around somewhere, even if she can't /won't reach out to him for various reasons.

Anyways that's where my mind is at.

[e-b-reads]

Books of the Summer: 2024 (June-Aug)

Back into the routine: of creating Books of the Month posts about halfway into the following month. Hey, I'm caught up now, though! As always, it was fun to look back at what I read this summer now that my routine and schedule and focus have shifted so fully (out of summer camp mode). Here are my books of the summer!

Marple: Twelve New Mysteries (various female authors): This was a fun read: short stories by current mystery authors, featuring Christie's Miss Marple. I enjoyed that several of the authors chose to write about situations dealing with things like race in a way that Christie probably couldn't have, with the assumption that Miss Marple (as, occasionally, opposed to her creator) would be capable of being logically open-minded and kind.

The Invisible Library (Genevieve Cogman): I reblogged a post recently with some notes suggesting that this is a series that some people really don't like? (Possibly because they didn't feel like it lived up to the neat premise - adventures in a series of universes with varying levels of magic connected by a reality-bending library.) So, you know, don't just take my work for it, check with other readers you trust. But I really enjoyed this book (and sequels) as something engaging and fast-paced to read during my busy season. Large twists were sometimes predictable, but the smaller details of how characters would extricate themselves from situations weren't, so it kept me reading! I also liked the relationship between three of the main characters (though was disappointed not to end up with a poly threesome by the end. Oh, well).

Becoming (Michelle Obama): And now for something completely different: I've had this book for a while but only finally read it this summer (slowly, in between various mysteries). I really enjoyed it; it painted a really sympathetic and detailed picture of her (and her husband's) priorities in terms of both political ideals and personal family life, and the ways they have tried to balance those. Also was reassuring to read a book about hope as a political force in the current U.S. political climate (or to be more precise: I read it before Biden dropped out, so during that climate especially).

The Body in the Attic (Judi Lynn): I tried various cozy mystery series this summer, and I am shouting this one out not because of the mystery plots (which were fine), but because of the cozy part. Jazzi Zanders works with her cousin and a friend (swiftly her boyfriend and then her husband) flipping houses. Only they keep finding bodies, and after the first case, their new detective friend keeps asking her to tag along and help him solved the mysteries. (I also enjoyed that aspect; instead of this being a series where the amateur is getting in the way going "let me help!" the 60-something detective [not a love interest] keeps being like "hey, want to help?" and Jazzi goes along reluctantly.) What I really liked is that the mysteries are almost an excuse the author to write the cozy mundane details of Jazzi's life: shopping with her man, dinner with family, the work they do on the houses. Not a series for when you're looking for drama, but a nice one for escapism.

Dishonorable mention:

Live and Let Chai (Seaside Cafe mystery series; Bree Baker): Haven't done this before but I need to call this (cozy mystery again) series out! To be fair, I did read all seven books in it, so it's not like it was so bad I stopped reading. But part of why I kept reading was because I thought maybe the main character was going to learn. In the first few books, she stumbles on a body, insists on trying to solve the mystery despite the handsome broody detective character telling her to stay out of it, and then gets kidnapped or otherwise harmed by the murderer, which does at least do the service of letting the handsome detective find and arrest them. This wouldn't be so bad, except that as the books go on, she begins to insist she needs to help investigate, because she is so good at it. Lady, you keep getting the murderer wrong! She does snoop and gather clues, but she doesn't usually put them together properly until the actual murderer is trying to murder her, at which point she figures out her mistakes (too late!). When this happened yet again in book 6, I finally realized she wasn't going to learn, but at that point I went ahead and read book 7 partly to make sure and partly to read the resolution of the tortuous, twisty romance between her and the detective. Anyway, this isn't even to mention the issues I have with a modern white character super proud of her southern heritage and ancestors without even a consideration for any bad things those ancestors might have done? But that's another post all its own.

[inastarlesssky]

About Me

Hi! Name's Ella. Pronouns are She/Her. You can call me Ella, Starless or Star. I'm 28, currently studying a difficult foreign language, writing fics in my free time and pining after fictional characters. I'm into more fandoms than are listed here, but these are mostly my main ones. Currently obsessing over The Umbrella Academy.

(Basically the fandoms I'm a part of and my respective ships)

⚜ The Sandman ➵ Dream x Calliope (OTP, I love them, your honour.) ➵ Dream x Johanna Constantine (Doomed to fail but I just love the idea of them, alright. Let me.) ➵ Dream & Hob Gadling (Do I even need to say why I love them?) ➵ I'm currently working on write-ups/analyses of the episodes as I re-watch them. If you're interested, you can find those under #the sandman write-ups ⚜ Dead Boy Detectives ➵ Charles Rowland x Crystal Palace ➵ Charles Rowland x Edwin Payne ➵ Edwin Payne & Niko Sasaki ⚜ Doctor Who ➵ Ten x Rose ➵ Ten x Clara ➵ Eleven x Clara ➵ Twelve & Clara ⚜ Good Omens ➵ Crowley x Aziraphale ➵ Eric the Disposable Demon & Muriel (I don't really legit ship them, but come on, they'd be kinda cute) ⚜ Harry Potter ➵ Draco x Hermione ➵ Harry x Hermione ⚜ Marvel ⚜ Pirates of the Caribbean ➵ Will x Elizabeth ⚜ The Legendborn Cycle ➵ Selwyn Kane x Bree Matthews

About Me

Firstly, if you're running a blog that's The Sandman, Good Omens, Dead Boy Detectives or The Umbrella Academy and you see among your followers but realize I don't really post any of that stuff, this is my main blog and where I can follow from. You'll see below but I do have seperate sideblogs for those fandoms and am posting stuff there for such content, so just to keep in mind. C: ❦ Tags & Their Uses ❦ It's pretty self-explanatory. Fanart, fic recs are what it says on the tin. I usually tag fandom specific with the particular fandom, so by topic, my tags are: Fandoms - (really it's mostly the Sandman here fyi) The Sandman - #the sandman netflix #the sandman Harry Potter - #dramione #harry potter (though I post about this very rarely now) Personal Stuff - me and life stuff, #my ramblings Art - #fanart (for art from shows, movies etc) #my art (MY art as you can see below)

❦ My Stuff ❦ Fanfiction: I'm an author, so I'll occasionally post links to my works here though I post firstly and primarily on AO3 which can be found here. I always tag my fics with #ella writes stuff and #my fic: [insert title of the fic here] so anything related to a particular fic can be found under that tag. You can also find a list of my current projects organized by in-progress and completed here organized by in-progress and completed. (But that particular spot needs to be updated bc it's been a hell of a long time since I updated it and things have changed since) Art: I use a pencil sometimes when I'm so inspired. I tag that with #ella draws stuff. Meta: I sometimes write this when I have strong emotions about things I've seen or have really big unanswered questions or wonder things. It'll be tagged mostly with #my ramblings and the respective fandom it pertains to, though you'll find it's mostly The Sandman right here. So until I find a better tag, #the sandman meta will be that for now.

❦ My Sideblogs ❦

Good Omens: ineffablenlghtingales

Dead Boy Detectives: ghost-husbands

Pirates of the Caribbean stuff: ofblacksmithsandswanns

The Umbrella Academy: snarkyfivehargeeves

The Legendborn Cycle (mostly stuff about Bree and Sel): kingsmageandlionheart

I do have discord! If we're mutuals, you can definitely ask for it via message. :]

Lastly (if you've come to this point, wow, you're amazing], I am not a minor and I do not take special care with the things I post here. That being said, I don't post much content that's explicitly adult, but if you are a minor, please be aware I am not.

Note: If you'd like to translate my work into another language, I think that's awesome and that would make me super happy, but please do ask first. C: There's currently a Russian translation of When the Day Loved the Night in progress, so I'll have a link to that on the original work on AO3

That's about it. Come say hi if you like, I'm into a lot more fandoms than the ones I've just listed, so if you're curious, ask.

By the way, my messages ARE open, but maybe just gimme a heads up or something or ask before if you wanna chat about any of these above fandoms. Sometimes I get random ass messages and I'm a little bit confused about them...you're welcome to! Don't be afraid, I love chatting about my fixations, just gimme a heads-up, eh? ^^

[you-are-my-king-now-cariad]

I need motivation to write, so I’m sharing all my fic ideas with y’all-let me know which ones sound good so I have a reason to open Wattpad again and actually get started. I want to write, my brain just refuses to give the happy chemicals until I have an excuse to weave those words.

Fairly long timeskip, 4 years at minimum, and just kind of exploring how everything’s changed. (Also Willark would be 100% canon and I’d probably kill off Tor for my own enjoyment.) May or may not end with a ruby ring and our favorite Merlin on one knee.

Let’s take that fluffy energy and run with it-a mixed bag of scenes that are post-kiss and pre-Mageguard, in that perfect universe where there is occasionally time to relax. Inspiration drawn from several ‘what would they do if they had the time’ posts.

Time to ruin everyone’s lives with a Sel death and Bree pleading with her ancestors to let him in, please, do whatever magic you have to, I just need to see him again, I would do anything. Unsure if Order spirits/non-blood relatives could access Mediums in the same way, but I feel like if anyone can it would be Selwyn.

Alternative BM ending of Sel not fully succumbing-I don’t know exactly what would have to change but basically he finds out about Bree’s deal (which would still happen-in this case it’s probably something close to demanding protection/stopping the hunt for her friends, idk-) and… let’s just say Nick and William don’t do a very good job of explaining anything to a Very Emotionally Unstable cambion and it goes badly for everyone involved. Partially because there’s a lot of bloodlust once Sel learns it was Erebus that took her.

Traumafluff at an Order event-probably a Selection Gala a year or so after BM/Camlann, everyone having to pretend they haven’t seen their friends suffer at the hands of the Order, it’s very much ‘we murdered SO many demons look at us isn’t this so awesome’ so I’m sure all those traumatized teens won’t be at all upset… fortunately, it doesn’t last forever, and the physical manifestation of you’re safe here doesn’t leave her side.

Alice being Alice. Just oh my god, Matty, are you even trying to be subtle you keep running off with the damn incubus-do what you want but you don’t get to be surprised when I ask if you two are a thing now-

And that’s most of them. Again, lmk the one(s) that y’all are most interested in!

[lighthousenewsnetwork]

ENGLEWOOD, CO - In a move that surprised absolutely no one familiar with the NFL's endless loop of "rebuilding," the Denver Broncos have secured the coaching services of Sean Payton, a man who seemingly possesses the magical ability to transform any team into...well, a team that consistently finishes 8-8. Yes, folks, rejoice! Gone are the days of frustrating playoff misses and the existential dread of watching Drew Lock throw interceptions. With Payton at the helm, Broncos fans can now look forward to years of a meticulously crafted offense that consistently stalls inside the opponent's 10-yard line, gut-wrenching fourth-quarter collapses, and post-game press conferences filled with Payton uttering the phrase "we just have to execute" with the air of a man unveiling a revolutionary new philosophy. Let's not forget the media frenzy surrounding this "dream team" pairing. Analysts are practically salivating at the prospect of Payton working his magic with Russell Wilson, a quarterback who, if recent trends hold, is about two fumbles away from requesting a trade to a team with a functioning offensive line. The narrative writes itself: Payton, the offensive mastermind, will unlock Wilson's true potential, turning him back into the scrambling, interception-machine of his Seattle glory days. It's a win-win! For fantasy football enthusiasts, at least. Because when it comes to the actual outcome of this "retooling," one can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. After all, wasn't Payton brought in to elevate a team with a shaky foundation? Didn't the Saints already possess a generational talent at quarterback in Drew Brees? Sure, Payton maximized Brees' potential, but let's not rewrite history and pretend he magically transformed a mediocre roster into a perennial powerhouse. Speaking of that "coaching carousel," wasn't it just yesterday the Broncos were convinced Vic Fangio was the answer to their prayers? Now, after a single underwhelming season, he's been tossed aside like a week-old bagel. It's a vicious cycle, folks. Teams desperately fling money and draft picks at coaches, hoping that somehow, someway, the coaching magic dust will finally stick. Newsflash: it rarely does. And let's not forget the real stars of the show: the fans. Broncos Country, once a haven for passionate (and sometimes frighteningly orange) supporters, has become a land of cautiously optimistic delusion. "This is our year!" they chant, seemingly oblivious to the fact that "this year" has been every year for the past decade. But hey, who are we to rain on their parade? Let them bask in the warm glow of Payton's arrival. Let them dream of hoisting the Lombardi trophy. After all, isn't that what professional sports are all about? A carefully crafted illusion of hope, punctuated by the occasional heartbreaking disappointment? So, buckle up, Broncos fans. The Sean Payton era is upon you. Prepare for a future filled with strategically timed timeouts, questionable play calls on fourth down, and the ever-present knowledge that, no matter how close they get, a Super Bowl victory will likely remain as elusive as a competent offensive line. But hey, at least you'll be consistently mediocre! Share this article with your fellow Broncos fans and let them know they're not alone in this thrilling journey to perpetual disappointment. And who knows, maybe Sean Payton will eventually coach the Cleveland Browns just for the challenge. #Coaching #DenverBroncos #Football #Humor #nfl #Satire #SeanPayton

[cafeconbrujeria]

a couple of new people here, it looks like! presumably from Bree-land?

this is my occult side blog where I routinely fail to document anything I'm actually doing. occasionally I reblog some stuff or yell into the discourse void.

I am a South American and Caribbean blend Latina and grew up practicing what you might call Santeria, or Lukumí, and neither of those words exactly conveys it right but I usually use the former. I was initiated as a child and I am, proudly, a daughter of Oshun.

Here is my thesis statement: the sexy and rebellious thing to do if you grow up in one of the Afro Caribbean Diaspora traditions is to go through a very cringe Wiccan or Nordic magic phase. This is actually vital. Everybody I know who carries any aspect of their cultural specific practices into adulthood went through a sulky teen phase via Silver Ravenwolf or whatever.

Thesis two: a lot of the people writing about the ATRs right now are grifters.

These things are actually connected. IRL, your average real deal latin occultist carrying the torch into adulthood is a fucking nerd. Particularly if you're from an immigrant family, if you grew up doing legit magic, and you enjoy it, you end up learning about a lot of different magic, based on whatever else is around you when you are, specifically, not in the homeland anymore.

so while there are many, many workings that are done strictly as taught, and if you add a crystal to it, no, it's not the same--

most real people incorporate a ton of syncretic stuff into their practices.

anyone who makes their living screaming at random people about how their personal practices are invalid because said person is also into runes or yoga? red flag. that's somebody playing a role, and not very well. it's someone embodying a stereotype to bully their potential competition out of the market. it is someone weaponizing your guilt to make sure you buy THEIR brand of candle/oil/whatever.

and they probably don't actually know any old traditional shit, either.

that said, it's not fucking "road opener" oil without Abre Camino in it. it's the name of a fucking plant. the end.