#ground staff course near me

[airwingacademy11]

Best Aviation institute in Udaipur

First, one needs to understand what it means to be a cabin crew and what Cabin Crew Training in Ajmer looks like. The cabin crew is a group of flight attendants to proceed with the rules and direction of work provided by pilots or co-pilots who stay outside the cockpit. They timely inform the passengers about the ground rules and ensure their comfort and safety.

[mochinomnoms]

Silly JadeYuu idea but!!

I've seen it so often in fanfics where Jade can dig up info on literally anyone in the school, so he decides to get his hands on any and all information on The Prefect as he can.

Except, there really isn't a lot to dig up on The Prefect, is there? Don't get him wrong, Jade loves a challenge but it seems like he forgot that Yuu didn't even exist in Twisted Wonderland before September, there is no digital footprint to doomscroll through, no hometown he can research and become an over night expert on. Crowly doesn't even have your birthdate recorded on file!!

All Jade has to go of off learning anything he can about Yuu is your besties Adeuce and Grim (awful, he'd die before he let's himself owe Ace Trappola a favour) or ask you all about yourself which...sounds almost too easy to work, right?

Or something 💦

Aaaaa it's such a predicament for him! At first, he didn't really need to gather too much information on you, but now that he's interested and needs to know you inside and out, the weirdly limited amount of information about you is concerning....

this can take place in the later chapters of ptm when you are starting to pine back for jade~

tags: @ghousus

Jade had meant an unfortunate roadblock. Which was rare for him, especially when it came to intel.

It only took him but a few days to compile the intel on his dorm's freshmen for Azul, he even managed to find students' secret social media accounts.

Yet you were simultaneously NRC's worst and best kept secret.

He's positive that Crowley had intended to keep your transdimensional status a secret to but himself and the staff, yet it became increasingly obvious as the last school year progressed that you were not from this world.

If the lack of basic magical knowledge for didn't tip someone off, the gap in basic history facts and the random things you spewed out did.

"WHY IS THE CAT'S EARS ON FIRE? AND BLUE?" "Is that, like, your actual ears and tail or?" "Wait, so you're not an elf? Isn't that the same thing as a fae?" "Oh yeah we have a story about a kid and a beanstalk too! No guns on school grounds though, too many school shootings." "HOLY FUCK WHY DO YOU HAVE SCALES?" "I'm not making it up, people back home go to space, we have flags on the moon! You mean to tell me you guys didn't have a space race or something? ...What do you mean what's the point!? IT'S THE MOON!"

No one could really fault you for your cluelessness, thought Jade found it quite cute.

Unfortunately, that made it difficult to find information on you, especially back when Azul task him with finding dirt on you to get Ramshackle.

"I'm sorry to say Azul, but there is no information on Ramshackle's prefect prior to their attendance here. Not even evidence of their birth." "Well look harder! It's not like they popped out of nowhere! I need that dorm Jade, so do your job and find me something I can work with!"

After Azul's...outburst shall he say, and their discovery that the Prefect did actually pop out of nowhere, Jade has held it over his head quite smugly.

He wasn't so smug anymore, though, not when he was so invested in getting your heart and keeping it all to himself. Hard to do when there was little to no information about you.

Here's what Jade did know:

You liked dancing, though you weren't particularly good at it. Same with singing.

Silver had taken to teaching you how to use a sword, and you were quite good at it.

You tend to split your meals with Grim, even when offered your own plate.

Sam's soda that Azul had acquired last year was your favorite drink. You also liked the milkshakes at the lounge, though you rarely got them.

You scare easily and are near incapable of scaring someone else.

You were reckless when it came to your friends, to the point that you've nearly died about 9 times since arriving to their world.

And, of course, there were the little things that Jade noticed. Like the way the color in your eyes brightened in the sun.

Or the way you picked at your nails when nervous.

And the way you purse your lips when you get confused.

Oh! He thought the way you chewed on your pen was awfully cute.

Ah, the way you looked at him sometimes with an embarrassed look was something he's come to memorize. He's memorized many of your various facial expressions...like the one you made when you caught him staring at you. Despite his best efforts.

It's like you knew he was thinking about you...

He also knew that you liked to hide your smile and laughter when either got too big, big enough to show your teeth and gums. Big enough to make you snort and cackle like a witch from one of those human children shows someone showed him once. He knew your laugh like the beat of his heart.

Jade knew a lot, and yet nothing at all about you. What was your family like? Friends back home? What did you study? What were you wanting to be? Did you have a pet? A partner?

Don't worry about the last question! He's just a bit curious about the company you keep is all.

In any case, your little group of friends throwing you your birthday party was the perfect excuse for him to delve into your personal life with a plausible excuse.

"I thought Grim would be doing the interview questions for them? It's all we're letting him do so we can throw the Prefect a decent party this time."

Most people remembered the 'party' that the group of five then freshmen tried throwing you. It was hastily put together, no white suit as traditionally provided for a first year's birthdays, and the cake was a pile of tuna cans that Grim placed several small candles on top of. Which promptly fell over, caught a window drape on fire, and nearly brought the whole of Ramshackle into a blaze.

It also wasn't your birthday at that time. (That at least is a piece of information he could get his hands on.)

Now Ortho was involved, and Jade wasn't positive if that decrease or increased the potential fire hazard.

"Last year he did, yes. However, since the new freshman have been taking residence in Ramshackle, they've taken over the yearbook duties."

Usually, Jade would be able to gather his intel with little to no help from others, especially considering most of the school logged their activities on their social medias by the minute. Plus, his father's “questionable” career provided him with ample access to private investigators and databases.

But when it came to you? He didn't have much of a choice other than to depend on others. How troublesome.

"Aspen offered to take over the interview along with his other party tasks, but the poor thing has been struggling to juggle all his duties at Ramshackle and in Octavinelle."

Lies. Aspen was doing perfectly well, but when Aspen complained rather loudly in the Mostro Lounge kitchen about having to do the interview, Jade was more than happy to offer to take all the tasks from him. No future payment or favor required.

Aspen, with pink cheeks and hearts in his eyes, was more than happy to hand all of his tasks over to Jade with little thought.

"Oh, I guess then…" Deuce looked back at Ace in the kitchen with Trey on a video call. Saying that he was attempting to make a cake would be generous.

"…You know what, it's fine. We got a lot going on here. But, uh, when you're asking the Prefect about their ideal party, the sort of presents they like, and the usual stuff, try to be discreet. It's supposed to be a surprise!"

Jade raised a brow in amusement. "Really? How did you manage to get them fitted for their birthday jacket? I imagine that would be hard to keep a surprise."

Ace turned around, cradling a bowl in one arm and waving a wooden spoon. Jade is positive he could hear Trey cry out at him to not wave the batter around.

"Epel told them that Vil wanted them to come by to that film festival we when to last year, and needed to measure them for it."

The ginger flinched at Trey's voice chastising him through the phone.

"Hey! You asked for my help now pay attention before you drop the entire bowl and have to start over!"

"Okay! Okay! Jeez, you're almost as bad as Riddle when it comes to baking…" Ace grumbled, scrunching his nose like a child being scolded by his parents.

Jade withheld an amused snort at the thought, turning back around to Deuce to give him a polite nod and smile.

"Well then, it seems that you both have your work cut out for you. I'll leave you to it then."

Turning to leave, Jade ignored Deuce 'whispering' to Ace.

"Are we sure he should be asking them all these questions? You know how they'll probably get…"

Their voices faded out as he left Heartslabyul's kitchen, out the lounge, and to the entrance. He had previously been joined by Floyd, but his brother took off to find his favorite person entertainment.

Based on the rising voice of Riddle somewhere off in the rose maze, Floyd was successful.

Now, it was his turn to find his own favorite person.

You weren't hard to find, just follow the loud direbeast's noises, and you were bound to be there. It also helped that Jade had memorized your weekly schedule.

They should be finishing up their flight class soon, so I'll check the fields first.

It wasn't a particular trek, but it was a bit a walk from the Hall of Mirrors. Though, with how vast the campus was, it was expected.

Maybe he can stop at Sam's to grab a nice cold water to offer you. After all, he needs to demonstrate just how caring and dependable he is for you, and he'll start digging his place in to your heart!

Though, it seems that you were ahead of schedule, currently making your way to Ramshackle. Limping, even.

Oh dear, did you get hurt my pearl! I hope you're alright.

Like always, you seemed to sense him before he could even process your presence.

Those pretty, mesmerizing eyes widened, blinking at him with a piercing stare.

"Jade, hey, what are you doing here?"

Jade had to keep himself from running towards you like he wanted, instead taking a leisurely pace as you jogged towards him.

"Hello Prefect," My darling pearl~ "What a coincidence, I was just on my way to see you."

You gave him a knowing smile, eyes squinting as you did.

"Birthday, right?"

"Oh? And here I thought it was a secret~"

You snorted, covering your mouth to cover your grin. Cute.

"I have my...ways!" You looked to the side, pursing your lips before looking back at him. "But I'm guessing you got wrapped up in helping somehow?"

Again, that look, like you already knew the answer to your own question.

"Yes, I offered to help get a list of important party preferences for your friends. I do believe Deuce in particular is worried about your gift preferences."

Personally, I think the sea glass ring I had commissioned is going to be your favorite. But I'd rather exchange the gift privately, more intimately...cherish your reaction.

The thought of you, looking at him completely dazzled and struck by his confession was a fond thought. To finally make you his and his alone would be a dream. He just needed to know your idea date, which is what this little mission of his could help with.

"You know Jade, you don't have to find an excuse to find things out about me." Jade blinked, feeling himself warm up under your gaze.

How do you always...

"Oh?" Jade chuckled, hiding his smile behind a fist. "Did I give off that impression? I'm simply providing my assistance to those in need."

You rolled your eyes, pausing as you made eye contact with him and looked at your feet in embarrassment.

"No you don't—I mean not intentionally—I can just tell..." Jade let his smile soften into something more fond as he watched you stumble over your words.

"It's alright, I am always curious." And you just happen to be a strong topic of interest. "There is very little known about you, are you aware that you didn't have a student file up until a few months ago?"

Squinting your eyes at him in suspicion, you poked an accusatory finger into his chest.

"And why do you know that? I thought Azul didn't need you to dig up dirt on anyone since last fall."

Placing a hand on his chest, Jade pouted. "That's rather harsh little pearl, I prefer the term 'conducting research', it sounds much nicer. Besides..."

Jade couldn't help but give you a smug smirk, curling his finger for you to come closer. Hesitating, you leaned in on your tiptoes as he leaned down. His gray strand brushed against your cheek as he heard you take in a sudden breath.

In a soft, low, almost heady voice, he whispered, "...you're just something I'm particularly interested in. I want to know you inside and out~"

Oh, how he delighted in seeing you fumble back and clasp your hands together in a fluster. Though, from the heat in his cheeks, he's probably no better off right now.

Covering your lower face in your hand, Jade could just barely make out your muttering.

"When did you get so direct..."

As quickly as he got that sweet reaction, you straightened up and smiled at him.

"Well, as long as your helping the others, I can give you my free time." You gestured for Jade to follow you to your dorm, swinging your arms as you walked.

Before you even made a few feet, you stopped and turned back to Jade with a shy expression.

"Um...but you don't need an excuse to go out or anything like that." Jade felt an electric shock fly up his spine as you gingerly reached for his right hand.

Your thumb rubbed over his hand in a tender gesture, like you were trying relax him as the tingling sensations and the rapid beating of his heart increased.

"I'd like to be with—or, I mean, be around you more." You looked like you were burning up with embarrassment, while he rejoiced internally.

YES YES YES! I want to be with you! I want you, let me have you! You will won't you?

"...Of course, I'd like that too." Jade brought the hand holding his up to his lips, barely brushing the skin with a kiss. "I'm more than happy to indulge my whims, why not take advantage of you offering?"

You both made eye contact, staring into each other as if waiting for the other to make a move.

Gods, I love you...

It didn't take long for you to jerk your hand back, looking up at him with a like he just confessed his love and offered his soul to you.

He didn't say that out loud...right?

"Um, let's head to Ramshackle to talk." You turned back around and started quickly walking, leaving Jade to catch up to you, though with his legs it wasn't hard. "I wanna get out of my uniform..."

I could help with that~

"I'll just change into something really baggy! Nice and comfy!" You let out a nervous laugh as you continued walking.

Makes for easier access~

He wasn't sure what was in your way, but somehow you managed to trip over air and smack into the ground.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

*crawls onto desk and looks up upon you* oh dear and glorious author god who graciously feeds us by humble request,I have arrived once more to give asking for blessings of feed for my brethen and I. Please gib the jealous scenario. It is finally time to gib us. The jealous monke. Please and thank you.

((my beloved, i take as this request as a joyfull presents. I NEED MORE! PEOPLE I NEED MORE!))

"Well, it looks like you're getting quite good at it, huh?"

Turning around, you noticed Shen coming closer from his spot. You took the chance of a small chat with the forefather to get a small break from your training with your new-found powers. Being able to use some of the same skills that Yuán Fèn had was handy, but he was such a natural with them while you needed to focus a little more. Of course, your friend decided to help you out with them. That's why you both decided to head to the Zodiac Village to not gain attention. Of course the two of you were under the wathfull eyes of Bajie, sitting on a giant case near the furnace.

And of Shen, of course, but he had a strange glim in his eyes that day.

" Yes! Is exciting! I never imagined that even I could do such things as these!"

"You're a Natural One, y/n! We still need to fix a few mistakes, but you're on the right path!"

Yuán Fèn has nothing but pure pleasure; seeing you so excited makes his heart slip a bit a few times. And of course, many had noticed, and someone wanted to use another approach with you two.

"Is that so? Well, good to know, good to know... Since she's a natural with these staff, do you mind if I take your little friend here for a few tests? I should really need a palate like hers now."

Shen put his arm around your shoulder, poking your nose, glancing a few. Look to the other one. His tone, usually so relaxed and aloof, was strangely sweet to the younger monkey ears that time. To be honest, it felt less genuine and a little more suave. 

"I...ehm...yes, why not? If y/n is fine by that."

"Well...okay! I needed a break!

"Good! Now follow me, dearest."

After that nickname, that gesture, and another side glance from the forefather, Yuán Fèn felt itchy, his foot tapping the ground light, and his tail wiggling in a strange behavior.

///

From there on, you cannot shake away the feeling that Shen was onto something. 

He was closer, very closer than usual, to you while he let you taste a few of the wines that he was able to produce, and he kept letting you use the sober stone to avoid any kind of surprise. He wanted you vigilant, that's what he said.

He was funny; he had always had this easygoing behavior, but this time he had never let a chance slide for making you laugh or making some compliments that led you to a blushfull state.

And while he was acting in this behavior, as trying to show you around, someone seemed to be in an agitated state. From time to time, when you heard movements or something being touched by a foot, you were able to see a certain destiny around, looking at the two of you. You tried to call for him, trying to ask him if he was okay or if he needed something, but Shen was always ready to take away the words from your mouth and question the other male.

Yuán Fèn, with some scoff, just avoid the questions.

You were trying another wine when you felt Shen's hand on your shoulder.

"But enough of it; tell me, Y/n, do you have a special one?" You almost choke on the wine.

"M-me?"

"Of course you! Someone that caught your eye? Someone that let your heart skip a beat?"

You tapped the cap a few times, your eyes avoiding to meet Yuán Fèn and confirm something.

"Wel... I don't think. No..."

"Oh! So you basically free now, uh?" Why was he so close? You get so small between his hands. "In this case...why don't we-"

And in one swift second, two other hands grabbed you, taking you away from Shen's attention. A tail was wrapping around you like a cobra, and a shadow loomed over you, covering you from everything.

Yuán Fèn, with his teeth grinding, was looking at Shen with a pair of eyes that could set fire to a forest.

"HANDS OF OR-" as he had taken that stance, he suddenly stopped, one hand leaving you to cover in teeth in shame.

"Or...what?" Shen had that smirk again, unmoved by that show.

Yuán Fèn lowered his eyes on you; his shameful eyes met your incredulous ones. As he had come, he darted off, mumbling something for himself. You stood up, looking at him with a worried expression.

"Yuán Fèn! Wait! I'm so sorry, Shen! I'll go talk with him!"

You followed the Destined One, while Shen waved his hand with a sneaky eye.

///////

You were able to reach it only when the same monkey stopped in his tracks. You had called him a few times. but it seemed that he didn't quite register you at all.

"Yuán Fèn! Wjat happened! Why did you act like that?!" You looked at him with concern.

He had never reacted with someone like that, especially with you as an audience! When he turned around, his face was covered in a pure red shade, making him look more like a fire bell than anything.

"I don't know what happened to me! He-he was just...and you were...and I started to... I'm so sorry! I shouldn't act like that to the forefather!"

"Wait, wait, wait..." you take his hands in your "breath, then speak."

He did what you asked; he needed more minutes to completely calm himself.

"I'm so sorry that you have to witness that shameful display. I felt something bad from the moment he took you to testing those wines. I know he was planning something, but I didn't know what. And these things, this emotion—I felt this itching sensation that I needed to take you away from him!"

He seemed genuinely hurt, so you guessed that he acted as an idiot. After all,. he may be the destined one, but he was a monkey too. And, by the way, he was explaining it...

"Were you jealous?"

By hearing these three words, his expression of shame became one of pain. Like the idea of having such feelings made him sick of some sort.

"It's horrible; I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!"

"Calm down," you giggled. " Is...fine! ...Flattering even."

"Flattering? How?" He looked at you, now confused by that statement.

"Well," you continued, "no one ever had jealousy as me as the motive. It's a new thing and a tiny tipsy cute."

"How can that be cute?!"

"Well, just a little! It's showing that you care, but just a bit! I'm not someone; I want to see you fight over people!"

At least you took it in the most rational way. He massaged his eyes, sighing deeply.

"I'm still sorry...in front of the forefather, a deity even!"

"Let's go and apologize. Besides, he was acting off, and I felt a little...hoverwelmed by him. As long as we make our piece, I think we're even." Your warm smile gave him a little more of a relax; at least you weren't angry. If it was necessary, he would have talked to the other zodiacs too; for now, he let you take his hand and guided him towards the village.

/////////

"You old monkey, have you no shame?!" Bajie could give a damn to the fact that the monkey was come kind of deity; he was ready to hit him with his rake. Shen just kept drinking with a very satisfied face.

"Brother,"Chen stepped in. "He's right! Poor girl, you must have scared her for life! And that poor boy, have you no shame to embarrass your youngling like that?!"

"Easy, my friends, easy! Look!" His finger pointed to the figure of you two, talking to each other and...holding hands. You were smiling, reassuring him. He was calming down, cinfessing something. " See? They just needed a small push."

"That's not even a real confession if you ask me," retorted Bajie.

"You may be right, brother pig, but if we don't set the base, we'll never have a house!"

@sleepingdramaqueen

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[shitsndgiggs]

hi girl

can you write something about hector fort.

something like a rival player is flirting with y/n and is provoking hector.

and there is a little fight between them during the match.

after it’s all like fluffy stuff where she just tell him he’s the only one she loves etc

i got this inspiration when i saw your imagine with kenan.

PLAYING WITH FIRE - HÉCTOR FORT

Héctor is standing up for you

Héctor Fort x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The tension in the stadium was palpable, the roars of the crowd intensifying as Barcelona faced off against one of their fiercest rivals, Real Madrid.

The rivalry between the two clubs had always been fierce, but tonight, it felt personal. I sat in the stands, my eyes trained on Hector, who was giving his all on the pitch, his movements swift and determined.

As the game progressed, I noticed a familiar figure from the rival team—a player who had been persistently DM'ing me for months, despite knowing full well that I was with Hector.

I had never responded to him, but his messages were getting bolder. And now, seeing him on the pitch, I could sense that he was up to something.

As soon as Hector and the rival player came into close proximity, the tension between them was clear.

They exchanged words I couldn’t hear, but the heated glares and clenched jaws said enough.

Then, the rival player leaned in, saying something directly into Hector’s ear that made him stiffen.

Hector’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he glared at the other player. They squared up, and before anyone could intervene, the rival shoved Hector, and Hector shoved back.

The confrontation escalated quickly, with the rival player throwing a punch that landed squarely on Hector’s nose. Hector retaliated with a hard shove, knocking the rival to the ground, his lip already split from the impact.

The referee's whistle pierced through the air, and chaos erupted on the field. Both players were separated, and after a quick deliberation, the referee brandished a red card at Hector, signaling his ejection from the game.

The crowd reacted with a mixture of boos and shouts, while I rushed down to the sidelines where Hector was being checked for his nosebleed.

I reached him just as the medical staff were dabbing at his nose. His expression was a mix of anger and frustration, and despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he relaxed slightly when he saw me.

“What were you thinking, Hector?” I scolded softly, concern lacing my voice as I crouched beside him. “You shouldn’t have done that. Now you’ve got a red card, and we’re down a man.”

Hector's eyes met mine, still blazing with anger. “He was talking about you,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “Saying things he had no right to. Only I can talk about you like that.”

I sighed, my expression softening. “You know that he’s just trying to get under your skin, Hector. You can’t let him win like that.” I reached out and gently touched his cheek, my fingers brushing over his jaw. “You know I only love you, amor.”

His features softened at my words, and he reached up to hold my hand against his cheek. “I know,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “But I can’t stand the way he talks about you. It drives me insane.”

I leaned closer, my forehead almost touching his as I whispered, “I’m yours, Hector. No one can change that. Let him talk—it doesn’t matter.”

Hector’s eyes closed briefly, as if my words were grounding him. He let out a deep breath, the tension in his body easing as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer for a moment. “I just hate seeing someone disrespect you,” he murmured. “I’d do anything to protect you.”

“I know you would,” I replied, kissing his forehead gently. “But you also need to stay focused. The team needs you.”

He nodded, and as the medical staff finished checking him over, I could see the determination returning to his gaze. “You’re right,” he said, giving me a small, appreciative smile. “But if he comes near you again…”

I interrupted him with a light laugh, shaking my head. “He won’t. I’m not interested, and he’ll get the message.”

As Hector stood up to rejoin his teammates on the sidelines, some of his friends from the Barca squad came over, having noticed the interaction.

One of them grinned, pointing at the dried blood on Hector’s jersey. “Damn, Hector, getting in a fight over your girl?” he teased. “You’re a real romantic.”

Another teammate chimed in, “Guess the guy didn’t realize who he was messing with.”

Hector just shrugged, casting a sideways glance at me. “He’s lucky that’s all he got.”

I rolled my eyes, playfully smacking his arm. “You’re supposed to be a football player, not a fighter.”

“Can’t I be both?” Hector joked, his eyes twinkling as he glanced back at me.

“Only if you keep winning,” I teased back, squeezing his hand before letting him go.

As Hector returned to the bench to watch the rest of the game unfold, he glanced back at me one last time.

The intensity of his gaze told me that he didn’t regret standing up for me—even if it cost him a red card.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Hi! Are you still taking orders or something? If so, I have an idea for you~ For example, a werewolf × a Fox!the reader is like enemies-lovers. Where we tease him all the time, and it really annoys him, ho-ho~

I was listening to a song when I got the inspo for this. It's in Croatian, by a band called Tutti Frutti, and the lyrics go like this (my translation):

Kao srna gonjena preko snijega duboka (Like a pursued doe in the deep snow) Iza moga ramena skloni se od lovaca (Hide from hunters behind my shoulder) S oba oka sklopljena (With both of your eyes closed)

Thank you for the ask! This fic got a bit long so I'll split it in two, I apologize ^^'

Don't You Dare! (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 13 [ Mating / Hunting season ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fox hybrid fem!reader ]

You two grew up together. Since your clans have lived next to each other peacefully sharing a vast forest for many years, that wasn't so unusual. You and Ash were friends when you were kids, but he was too shy and aloof for your teen tastes, and you slowly grew distant.

Today, for the first time, you were tasked of guarding the eastern part of the forest. The hunting season began just a few days ago.

"Ugh, you're so booooring," you complain. "Let's at least play a game."

"We're supposed to be watchful," he retorts.

"You know hunters never come this far so early. It will be a peaceful evening, I just know it. Come on, Ash, truth or dare?" The werewolf huffs and keeps walking in front of you. How dares he ignore you! You take your staff and smack his ass.

Ash jumps from shock and swings his strong arm, ready to strike. With a swift leap backward, you escape him, giggling. When he realizes it was only you teasing him, he growls. He is kinda cute when he's angry. "Don't do that! I could've..."

"What? You're too big and slow for me. Truth or dare, Ash? I'll slap your cute ass until you accept."

His werewolf ears fall behind and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head. With another huff, he continues walking. "Uhh... Truth?"

"Have you ever orally pleased someone?"

He trips and turns toward you in shock. "That's a really private question!"

"That's the game, pup, you know the rules." You loved calling him pup because he was three years younger than you and everyone knows werewolves mature slower than fox hybrids.

He scowls at you but answers, as quietly as he could: "Yes..."

"Oh you're a big man now! Good job, pup, I'm glad you know how to please your partners." He shakes his head and continues walking, faster than before. You run after him. "I choose dare!" You're sure he heard you, but he was quiet for quite a while before asking his question.

"I dare you to—" but he suddenly stops and sniffs the wind. He looks at you and and swallows hard. "D-do you know you're... you're about to..."

Why is he so uncomfortable all of a sudden? "Ash, speak up, I can't hear you!" you shout, impatiently dragging your fox tail across the ground. But the silly big pup in front of you continues being awkward. You can sense he is blushing, even though you can't see that on his canine face. "ASH!"

A rifle blast shuts you up, and a bullet flies dangerously near Ash's face. Hunters!

Instinct immediately kicks in and you start running. You are faster than Ash, but you would never leave him behind. Hunters are apparently too far away because they don't shoot again. Still, your heart is racing, fear and excitement electrifying your blood and also... also...

Oh no.

Your cycle. You're in heat! It's still early and you can focus on other things, but... You need to get to a safe place, quickly.

"Ash, I'm—"

"I know," he immediately replies, checking your surroundings. "There is a waterfall not far from here. The water will hide us and our tracks."

You change direction and very soon you hear the rushing in the bottom of a ravine. Of course, you and Ash have no problem getting down safely and you jump into the shallow stream. It is cold and fast, but walking upstream will confuse your pursuers. Also, you need to warn your clans as soon as possible. Yes, you need to focus on that. Only that. Not on how tall Ash is or how good he smells. Or how you always thought he was smart and sweet. And how you saw him swimming once. Or how you wanted to push your finger into his sheath and see what's inside. Or how... shit.

Your pussy started aching, itching, pulsating from need. You had to press it, rub it, stimulate it somehow or you'll go mad. You squeeze your thighs together, pushing your fist against your entrance, with a weak whimper - and you trip, almost dropping your staff. "Fuck, Ash. I can't hold it."

Ash stops but doesn't help you - he hasn't said a single word the entire time or looked at you. And he was constantly trying to walk upwind from you. "Do it quickly and we'll continue. I'll... keep watch."

That idiot pup. "Ash..." Your voice got a note of urgency. "Don't make me beg."

His ears perk up and he stares at you all big eyed, looking like a virgin doe-eyed buck. You roll your eyes, irritated. "Just my luck - I'm horny as a rabbit, and stuck between rifles and a cherry boy. Maybe rifles will give me..."

You are interrupted by a hand grabbing your throat. The other palm is on your ass squeezing it like a sponge. Ash is in your face, snout almost touching your nose. He is quietly growling, but you feel that tremble in your core.

"You chose dare, didn't you?" he asks you. His palm slides from your ass, follows the roundness of your hips and cups your mound. The tip of his finger immediately finds your aching clit. You gasp. "I dare you not to scream when you cum with my knot inside you."

[ part 2 ]

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: no, you’re the monster

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: G

genre: angst. like super angst.

pairing: alastor x reader

summary: As the hotel has gained notoriety in Heaven, after more souls are redeemed, an idea of allowing those at the hotel to talk to their Heavenly family is put in place. The only thing is Alastor has never even once, tried to use it to talk to his mom. What’s the worse that can happen when he does use it as you offer the idea up to him?

As the hotel gained notoriety and after a few more souls had been redeemed, Heaven started to finally collaborate with Charlie on redeeming sinners. One of these ways was for sinners to have a weekly call via a special portal to talk with their loved ones up in heaven. Which Angel and Alastor likened to prison. Charlie didn’t care though because it was “progress”.

The idea though, was to create a connection in heaven that sinners would want to work towards. Most of the hotel patrons and staff used their calls weekly. You remember Angel’s first call talking to Molly as he cried realizing she was up there and hearing her sobbing, thanking him for protecting her in life. Encouraging him to do better so that she could hug him. Needless to say, after that call Angel gave up just about everything and really set forward on a path to redemption.

The only person in the whole hotel who hadn’t used these portals were yourself and Alastor. Your whole family had been awful to you save for your sister and she was still alive. You had checked. Alastor on the other hand, you had heard him mention his mom. He talked about her fondly and made her special jumbalaya on occasion. You figured that he would use the portals to talk to her, but he never did. So, one night when sleep was evading you again, you found a chance to ask as you were sitting in the lounge reading and everyone had gone to bed.

“Another late night where sleep’s tender hold evades you my dear?” Alastor said, appearing on the couch across from you. You jump a bit and chuckle.

“You know me too well Al.” You say and put your book down. “How was your day?” You ask him, as he materializes a book to read. You remember the first time you asked him how his day was, he asked you why you wanted to know. You had to explain you were being nice and it was something friends did. He questioned you on your use of the term friends but let it slide.

“It was well enough. I took a trip over to Cannibal Town. Rosie says hello.” He chuckled. He had introduced you to Rosie after you wouldn’t stop begging him to come with to Cannibal Town. You wanted to see more of the Pride Ring but it was scary, up until traveling to the hotel, you stayed in your apartment mostly. Except for work down the street. So, why wouldn’t you want to go to Cannibal town when you had scary dog privileges with Alastor?

“Awww, really? I love that. I’ll have to come with you over there soon, if you don’t mind of course.” You say, dog earring your book page so you don’t loose it. Alastor scoffs seeing you do that.

“Why you choose to ruin books is beyond me.” He mutters. “And of course you may, Rosie may have my head if I didn’t say yes.” You nod.

“How else am I supposed to save my place Alastor?” You ask him.

“With a bookmark.” He explains, conjuring one up and it floats over to you, his magic opens your book, smooths out the dog ear and then places the book mark near the spine. You roll your eyes.

“With how you treat books I am sure you are devastated to know that the library of Alexandria was burned to the ground.” You say, your voice monotone, closing the book.

“Absolutely devastated.” Alastor grins and then goes to reading his book. You sigh, and ready yourself to ask him the question you’ve been wanting to for a while.

“Hey Al?” You ask quietly.

“Hmm?” He murmurs not looking up from his book.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise not to get mad at me?” You say. He looks up at you, his eyes scrutinizing you as he motions for you to continue.

“So, today was portal day for everyone. And I’ve seen everyone use the portal to talk to loved ones in Heaven, but I’ve never seen you use it. And the way you talk about your mom… Don’t you want to talk to her?” You ask, looking up and your eyes widening as a darkness falls on his face. “I’m sorry, I was just curious. I can leave you alone as I think I’ve overstepped.” You say starting to get up.

“Sit.” Alastor says, a tentacle appearing and pushing you back down. “You’re… fine. I just don’t think my darling mother wants to see her darling son… like this.” He says motioning to himself.

“But if she loved you and you her-“ You start, being cut off by Alastor.

“She was the only one to love me in life.” He whispered.

“Exactly.” You say and gently cross over to his couch sitting next to him. “Wouldn’t you think she’d want to see you again, regardless?” You say earnestly.

“Well, I suppose…” Alastor starts.

“And would it not help you to have a conversation with her?” You go on.

“I’m not being redeemed dear.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“No, I know your sentiments on that. But wouldn’t it be good to talk to her. Not to encourage redemption, but just to catch up?” You say. “If it were my sister, I would love that. I know when she dies I’ll be doing that, I don’t plan on being redeemed, because I want to stay here and help with the hotel. But I’d still want to hear her voice again.” Alastor sighs and looks off, you can see his jaw tighten.

“I apologize if I’ve prodded too much. I can go if you’d like.” Wanting to remind him you could give him space but a small part of you realizing this was good progress as he hadn’t freaked out on you yet. You celebrated the small victory.

“Maybe I will put my name down for next week my dear.” Alastor acquiesced.

“If you wanted to do it now while everyone is sleeping you can.” You smile and hold up the portal key. “The portals stay open until midnight. They started doing that because Charlie and Emily talk a lot.”

Alastor looked at you, his eyes wide. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can even leave the room if you’d like me to. Or we can wait it’s up to you.” Alastor breathes and it’s like watching a war be fought on someone’s face with the emotions running through his eyes.

“Would you stay with me?” He asks, sitting up and fixing his suit jacket and ears, taking a breath.

“Always.” You whisper and his eyes widen. He nods at you.

“You sure about this?” You ask one more time. “You can say no and I’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”

“No, go ahead.” Alastor breathes. You stand up and look forward. You place the key in the air turning it and hearing a click. As the portal opens, a directory is pulled up.

“What was your mom’s name?” You ask, waiting.

“E-Evangeline. Altruist.” Alastor says almost breathless. You find her and look back at Alastor.

“One more time, I’m making sure, you want to do this?” You ask holding your hand to him. He takes it and stands up.

“I wouldn’t have accepted if I wasn’t sure.” Alastor says shortly. Giving off his confident air but his eyes were unsure.

“Okay. I can pull the plug at anytime too. Just let me know.” You press the name and the screen brightens and then Evangeline comes into view. Alastor gasps, his eyes wide and his hand squeezes yours.

“Evangeline Altruist?” You ask as she looks down at you. The portal must have appeared on a table.

“Yes, who is this?” she asks confused. You explain what your name is and that this portal allows those in Hell to communicate with loved ones in heaven. You explain that there is someone who would like to talk to her and does she accept the call. She does and you step out of the way and motion for Alastor to step in frame. He breathes and slowly does so, seeing his mother for the first time in who knows how long. There’s a gasp from his mother as she murmurs out his name.

“Hi Mama.” He whispers. The radio effect gone and a southern sounding accent in his voice as he talks to her.

“Alastor, is that you? You’re in hell? Truly?” His mother cries.

“I-Yes I am. I do miss you dearly.” He says, looking almost ashamed, his ears pin back on his head.

“I had heard the rumors… But I never thought my boy… What have you done Alastor?” She asks, her face twisting. “I don’t even recognize you from the man you were. The man I knew.”

“Mama, please, I-“ Alastor starts his eyes desperate, as he flits over to you and back to his mom. Your own heart shattering. You hold out your hand and he grabs it like a life line.

“No. You are no son of mine. I do not recognize you.” Her voice turns cold, your eyes widen and Alastor’s eye brim with unshed tears. “After everything… this is what you become? A monster?” The disgust in her voice is unbearable as Alastor bows his head and tears fall silently down his cheeks. You on the other hand see red.

“Now, just a damn minute here.” You say stepping back into view and shielding Alastor, still holding his hand.

“This is none of your business, girl.” Alastor’s mother exclaims, anger in her eyes.

“It became my business when you decided to unleash your bullshit on your son with me here. This was my idea, having him come talk to you, because out of everyone here at the hotel, he hadn’t made any contact with the woman who he holds in such high regard. So i figured, you held him in the same regard.” You start and get cut off.

“I loved my son, in life and in death but what he has become is worst than Lucifer himself.” Evangeline continued on. You felt your hand shaking with the strength of Alastor’s quiet sobs.

“No. Nope. That’s where you are wrong. Alastor has worked at this hotel night and day to help people be redeemed. He protects this hotel from those that wish it harm, he protects the patrons and Lucifer’s daughter Charlie. He is genuine, and while he has made a numerous amount of wild missteps in life and in death, he is trying to be better. I see it, the staff at the hotel sees it, his friends see it. And if you choose not to know him or you care not to get to know him, that is entirely your loss. He is not the monster, you are.” You say as you pull out the key, and start to end the portal. “Don’t call for him either. If he decides he wants to actually talk to you again, it will be his choice.” You say as the portal closes and the last words you can hear are ‘I’m sorry.’

“A little too fucking late for that.” You murmur pocketing the key. You turn and your heart breaks seeing Alastor’s tears paired with a smile.

“You don’t have to smile with me you know that right? Nothing I know about you would I ever use as a weapon against you.” You say as you cross over to him slowly, looking for any signs that he didn’t want comfort. Even though you felt like the last person who should be allowed to do so as this was your idea. You reach up and caress his cheek, wiping away tears that continued to spill.

“Alastor, I am so so sorry.” You say, tears coming to your own eyes. “I should have never suggested… I am so sorry.” You say again, bringing him down as he willingly folds into your arms.

“Can you take us to your room?” You ask, knowing he would never let any show of real emotion happen out here. He nods and suddenly you’re in the middle of his bed that has been moved into the forest he added in his room. You gather him to you and he sobs, his head in the crook of your shoulder and neck, as he grips onto you for dear life. There’s something even more heart wrenching as all walls fall and you can hear his natural accent, no radio effect at all, through broken words of ‘I’m sorry’, ‘She hates me’ and ‘I’m a monster’. His shadows darkening the space and the one shadow that always followed him looking so distressed.

“Alastor, if she can’t see the good in you then that is her own blindness. Darling, I can see it. Charlie sees it. You have changed from when you first got here. Hurt people, hurt people. And I think you’ve been hurt for a long while. It’ll take time, but I ain’t going anywhere. You’re not a monster to me.” You assure him as his sobs somehow become even worse hearing you. You gently rock him back and forth, and look up at the sky he produced for the forest. A perfect replica of the night sky on Earth.

“When I was back on earth in my 20’s, my sister would get upset and would go out to the roof. Anytime I found her there, I’d hold her and tell her stories of the stars. Do you want me to do that?” You ask. Wanting to take Alastor’s mind off of everything. You feel him nod and you smile slightly, pressing a kiss to his head, feeling him stiffen at the affection and hug him tighter.

“So there’s this group of stars that makes up a virgin maiden that they named Virgo. Many people say that Virgo’s constellation represents Persephone, the daughter of the Greek Goddess Demeter. Persephone in some stories was kidnapped by Hades, Lord of the Underworld. Demeter’s grief at loosing her daughter, abandoned her post as Earth Goddess, which caused crops to wither and the earth to grow cold.” You recounted one of your sisters favorite tales. Feeling Alastor’s cries fade and his body relax. “Because of this Zeus ordered Persephone to be put back on Earth, but along her travels she mustn’t eat anything.” You continue, gently wiping the tears off Alastor’s face with your oversized shirt. He doesn’t protest and just looks up at you, his eyes rimmed red but the self hatred you saw before not as prominent. You smile at him while you finish. “That’s why Hades gave her six pomegranate seeds, which she ate. Meaning that she would spend six months of the year with Hades and six months with her mother.” You feel Alastor sigh, and you think this is when he will get up and pretend none of this happened, fortifying those walls again. That doesn’t happen. He draws you closer to him, his body laid over yours and his head resting on the left side of your chest where your heart was.

“Tell me another.” He requests, not looking up at you but looking out into the forest. You smile and glide your fingers through his hair, stopping to pet his ears every now and again as you begin telling the story of the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, astronomy stories being whispered well into the night until you both were fast asleep with a blanket Alastor had pulled up over you both.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Safe (M, cold)

Well, here I am.

It's been a few months since I've written anything in the Elliot's universe, but recently someone asked for a Mark-centric story, and this behemoth is what ensued. Allow me to preface by saying this: Mark is basically my self-insert. This was a very hard story to write. If it sucks, my apologies, hah.

In this, Mark gets sick from Matt and wants to hide it from Elijah. It is significantly more hurt/comfort-slash-sickfic than snzfic, honestly. It starts fairly benign, fluffy, and silly and gets really intense a few pages in. There's a lot of musing, a lot of being inside Mark's head. Idk. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. This is the first story I've written on here that has taken me a full week to get down, and that I've written and scrapped multiple scenes. It is very long. I really hope you enjoy it if you read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts, but also understand if it's just too long-winded for people to read. Also, there's a real chance of spelling/grammar errors because I just can't look at this monster of a fic any longer, ha.

Anyway. Onward.

CW: Male snz, illness, coughing, contagion. 6K words (almost exactly)

Safe

“Don’t go near them.”

It’s the first thing that hit his ears as he pushed through the swinging kitchen doors; no ‘hi, Mark,’ no, ‘good morning’, just a barked order with absolutely zero context thrown in. Mark whipped his head in the direction of the stern voice of his boss.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered, making his way towards the office, where Elijah was stationed, seated, but not doing any computer work. “Who and what are we avoiding?” he asked as he entered.

“The chefs,” Elijah said, moving his chair to let the younger manager in to sit. Mark placed his backpack on the ground, tossed his coat over top of Greyson’s on the second office chair. Waited for further explanation that did not come.

“Okay…” he said, sitting beside his boss. “And we’re not going near them because…?” Mark hadn’t even seen Greyson or Matt yet this morning. The avoiding was being done for him, so what was Elijah’s deal?

Elijah hummed a low disapproval – of what, Mark couldn’t guess – and turned towards his computer. “You’ll see,” he said, shaking his mouse and pulling up an order guide. “Just don’t breathe your boyfriend’s breath, okay?”

Mark colored at the implication; it had only been a couple of months since Matt and Mark had been outed to the restaurant, and the floor manager still wasn’t used to their relationship being casually dropped into conversation. While Elijah busied himself with admin work, Mark stood – time to figure out what the fuck Elijah was on about.

You would think that finding chefs in a kitchen would be a relatively banal business; they’re chefs. They’re cooking. Hardly a moving target – but you’d be wrong. Somehow, the second a front of house manager starts looking for a chef, they become a ghost. They haven’t existed for a thousand years – are you sure this restaurant even has a chef? Mark couldn’t help but ponder how the fuck this hundred-square-foot kitchen somehow became a labyrinthian nightmare the second he wanted to find his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s boss; c’mon, he’d checked the walk-in, the back kitchen, even the dock to see if they were smoking, where the fuck were they?

Maybe Elijah had told the two of them to stay away from Mark and the front of house staff before the floor manager arrived, and they were playing a cat-and-mouse style keep-away game that Mark was unaware of. Or maybe they had gone to the store to pick up chicken or some shit. Either way, Mark was done looking. Elijah said don’t go near them, he thought to himself, heading back towards the front of the kitchen, easy enough.

Of course, it was the moment that Mark decided he was done looking that he quite literally bumped into his boyfriend coming through the kitchen doors.

“Oof,” Matt grunted as they collided. Greyson, not even a step behind him, turned their two-person bump into a three-car-pileup that nearly ended in hot coffee being spilled over all of them.

“Christ, Chef, watch where you’re going,” Matt muttered untangling himself from the middle of the pack.

“Mbe watch where I’mb going?” Greyson asked, wiping his coffee-covered hand on his chef’s pants. “The two of you are practically grinding on each other here and I ndeed to watch where I’mb going?”

Mark clocked it in the chef’s voice immediately – oh. That’s what Elijah meant.

But… he had said both of them… right?

Mark’s head shot up from checking to make sure he didn’t have coffee all over his button-down to look Matt directly in the face – ah. Fuck.

“Hh-! Hh’ITSHZH-ue! HRTSHH-ue!” Matt collapsed to the side to sneeze, seemingly in lieu of responding to Greyson’s dig. “Snf. Fuck off, Chef.” There it was.

“Bless you,” Mark said, attempting not to sound accusatory. Matt just nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

Before Mark could respond to the unnecessary apology, Elijah’s voice rang out once again from the office. “Mark, I told you to stay away from them!” The GM stood from his desk chair and strode into the kitchen, physically pushing Mark and Matt away from one another. “Six foot distance,” he said, pointing at both of them. “And you,” he said, addressing his counterpart, “didn’t I tell you to go get some tea and sit the fuck down? We have a big night tonight and I need you conscious, please.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held up his cup. “I was on mby way to sit when the children starting gyrating on each other in the mbiddle of mby kithcen,” he said. “Don’t put this one on mbe.”

Elijah squeezed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “First of all,” he said, moving towards Greyson and plucking the cup from his hand, “that isn’t tea.”

“The tea we buy is gross,” Greyson whined. “And I’mb ti – hh! Hh...hhuh-ETSHZH-ue! Snrf, fuck.” Greyson took a moment to collect himself, to wipe his nose on his sleeve and cough – a wet, concerning sound – before finishing his sentence. “I’mb tired,” he said, snatching the cup back.

“Which is why I told you to go sit down,” Elijah said, pressing his palms together and accentuating each word with his hands. “And please do not get my front of house manager sick. I beg, Greyson.”

“Talk to him,” Greyson said, thumbing towards Matt. “I’mb ndot the one with my tongue in Mark’s mbouth twenty-four-seven.”

Mark’s face flamed once again, but Matt, either too sick to care or beyond the embarrassment that was a public relationship in the work place, just rolled his eyes.

“Jealous, much?” Matt asked under his breath. Greyson shot daggers with a glance at his sous, and Mark decided it was probably time to step in.

“Listen, how about I go grab the two of you some medicine from down the street, you both take a rest, and then by the time the meds have kicked in, everyone should be good for service.” Mark looked to Elijah for his blessing; his boss was obviously mulling it over, considering. “And this way, I’ll be out of the metaphorical splash zone,” he finished, which finally prompted a nod from Elijah.

“Okay,” his boss said. “Good idea, Mark. You two – come with me.”

The GM led the two chefs back into the dining room to lay in the back booth while Mark let out a sigh. He was happy, of course, to be out of the fight, to have seemingly calmed everyone down, and to have put his boss’s mind at ease.

Unfortunately, he was fairly sure that – despite Elijah’s eased mind – it was already too late for keeping himself away from the newest restaurant pestilence.

***

“Elijah is going to kill me, Matt.”

“Oh, please, he is ndo – ITSZCHH-ue! ndot,” Matt said, swiping the bottle of Dayquil from Mark’s hand and chugging it. “You gonna sit?” he asked, sniffling and patting the milk crate beside him and shivering. Mark sighed.

“I’m not gonna sit, because Elijah is going to kill me even more if he sees me sitting right next to you.”

“I’mb gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s ndot possible,” Matt said, dissolving at the end of his sentence into a chesty cough.

“You’re coughing now, too?” Mark asked, worry about Elijah’s anger usurped very suddenly by concern for his boyfriend. Mark placed a hand to Matt’s head. “Oh, honey.”

“Sorry,” Matt said, not bothering to move Mark’s hand. Mark huffed out a little laugh.

“Don’t apologize for being sick. Please,” he said, moving his hand to cup Matt’s cheek. “Even if Elijah might kill us both.”

Matt smiled, pressed his face harder into Mark’s hand. “You might ndot get sick. You ndever know,” he muttered, eyes closing as Mark held his head up.

“Matt,” Mark laughed, “I mean… I don’t think that’s, uh, possible after last night.” Matt’s eyes blinked open at the mention of it, and a little smile flitted across his lips.

The apartment had been quiet.

“Matt?” Mark called as he stepped inside. “Babe, are you home?”

He strained his ears; the shower was on. Mark had an idea.

He tiptoed across the cold apartment floor, quietly stripping as he went; by the time he got to the bathroom door, he was nude as the day he was born. The bathroom door wasn’t closed all the way, so he pushed inside silently and pulled back the curtain.

A fact about Matt that shocked Mark more than anything was that the man did not get scared. He had yawned through their first haunted house together; he fell asleep during the Terrifier movies, for Christ’s sake. So Mark was unsurprised when, instead of screaming bloody murder the way he would’ve if Matt snuck up on his in the shower, his boyfriend simply turned away from the spray and smiled.

“You’re early,” he murmured, ushering Mark in.

“I came right from the gym,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mmmm,” Matt hummed, pressing himself into Mark’s arms. “That’s nice, baby.”

They stood that way for a few minutes, until Mark tipped Matt’s chin up towards his face. “I wanted to see you,” he said, pressing his lips onto Matt’s neck, “but I also wanted to… do things. With you.”

Matt’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low. “Like what?”

Mark stood back to his full height, and pushed Matt against the shower wall. “Let me show you.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said now, lifting his head. “But, I mbean, are you feeling okay right ndow?”

He was, for the moment. But, Matt had seemed alright last night, and clearly he’d already been on the trajectory towards ill – despite that fact that he had been very good at hiding it. Whatever he and his boss had picked up was certainly quick to come on.

“I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me,” Mark said, rummaging through the drug store bag to hand Matt, who’d fallen into another paroxysm of coughing, the Robitussin. “I’m more worried about you than anything.”

Matt snapped the top off and chugged this medicine as well, seemingly without any concern about mixing two medications. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I kndow Elijah is worried about getting through the weekend, but it’s ndot like any of us haven’t worked with a cold before.” He shrugged then, handed Mark the medicine, and stood. Mark stood as well, and once again cupped Matt’s hot face – this time with both hands.

“Please just take it a little bit easy tonight, okay?” Mark said. “I know Greyson is sick, too, but don’t try to do too much. We don’t need another moment like a few months ago.”

“And to think I’d just forgotten about that,” Matt said, going on tiptoe to kiss his boyfriend. “I’ll be okay.” Mark kissed him back, a little longer than was maybe necessary; long enough that neither of them heard the back door open until it was too late.

“Mark, what the fuck are you doing?”

Oh, fuck.

Elijah.

***

By the end of the night, Greyson and Matt were shadows of their former selves.

“Hh-! Hhhuh… hhNGTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! ETSZCH-ue! Fuuuck mbe,” Greyson muttered as he wrenched into the sleeve of his hoodie – chef coats had been abandoned about an hour into service, when both he and Matt started shivering hard enough to fuck up the plating on more than half the dishes – for the millionth time that night. He attempted to clear his throat, prompting a flurry of congested coughs.

Behind him, Matt was sitting on the cold, industrial kitchen ground, head between his knees. “I’mb gonna pass out, I just kndow I am.”

“Don’t fuckigg pass out,” Greyson growled, pulling his sous to his feet. “You ndeed to get your blood mboving, you gotta stand up. Idiot.”

The two of them, bickering and sneezing in near-unison by the pass, had captivated the attention of both front of house managers, who had turned away from their computer work to watch the mess unfold.

“Hope you like what you see,” Elijah said, finally. “Because that’s gonna be you tomorrow.”

Behind his boss’s back, Mark rolled his eyes. “Boss, I’m fine. I don’t feel sick at all, trust me, I’m going to be okay.” It was mostly true; he’d sneezed a few more times today than was normal for him, yes. And he was a little tired – no more than usual, surely. The rawness in the back of his throat was easily ignored with huge gulps of water. He was fine.

“Mmm,” Elijah said, swinging his chair around to look the younger man in the eye, “sure. Whatever you say, Mark; just remember, if you look even close to how bad Matt does tonight, you’re off the floor. And I mean off the floor until you return to normal. A cold is one thing; whatever these two have is entirely another. Understood?”

Mark swallowed around his burgeoning sore throat; off the floor. Off the floor didn’t mean relegated to busywork behind the scenes; it meant sent home. Being sent home meant days without a backup manager to help Elijah on the floor, and no one to help on the floor meant Elijah would realize there was a gap in their team. A gap in management. Mark had been the only floor manager in all the years Elliot’s had been open; Elijah had mentioned a few times that maybe they should hire another person, someone to cover if both Mark and Elijah couldn’t come in, but Mark had been vehemently against it. Elijah couldn’t hire another manager, because if he did, he’d see how truly unqualified Mark had been for his position all this time. Once he saw how unqualified he was, he’d be out on his ass. No job, no money… no second family. No place he truly belonged.

Mark’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes towards the floor. “Yes, boss,” he said. “I understand.”

“Good,” Elijah said, nodding. “Now, go collect your boyfriend and take him to bed.”

***

The first time Mark was sick while working at Elliot’s was well over a year into his tenure.

Elijah had regarded Mark with concern, clocking him as unwell the second he sat in the office. “You don’t look well,” he said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Mark’s face had flushed, embarrassed; not getting sick for over a year working front of house was honestly a feat of accomplishment in the restaurant industry, but he still felt guilty for coming down with something, despite its inevitability. He shrugged, an attempt at playing it cool.

“I’mb okay, boss,” Mark croaked. “Just a cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly. “Are you sure it’s just a cold? You feel okay to work?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, confused. Did he look that unwell? “I mbean… yeah?” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Why?”

“Well,” Elijah said, opening a drawer and pulling out cold medicine, along with a small bag that looked like it could’ve come from his mother’s medicine cabinet. “A cold, we can work with.”

The GM explained to him, then, that there were marked differences between the front of house cold, and the back of house cold. “You’ve seen Greyson sick at work a dozen times,” Elijah said, passing Mark a cup full of pills and a water bottle. “Right?”

“Sure,” Mark said, swallowing the pills around a painfully sore throat. “It’s ndot like he’s hiding it.”

“Right. Right,” Elijah said, popping open a stick that looked like – was that concealer? “The chefs, the cooks – they don’t have to hide anything. Us, though? No one wants to be served soup by someone with a stuffy nose. We all get the same shit, but only they’re allowed to look like shit.” He dabbed the concealer under Mark’s eyes, used an expert finger to blend it into his skin. “That’s the industry for you.”

“Are you… putting makeup on mbe?” Mark asked, laughing a bit.

“Sure am,” Elijah said. “A little concealer goes a long way in this profession, Mark. Concealer, and enough meds to tranquilize an elephant.” His boss closed the little concealer pen, put the medicine and makeup away. “I want you on the floor, but I want you to look… alive.” Elijah shut the drawer, shrugged. “Let me know if you start feeling really shitty. Otherwise? Come to the back to blow your nose, and feel free to help yourself to whatever you want in here.”

Mark blinked, a little confused, but grateful for the advice. Elijah seemed… almost fatherly, like this, and he could feel embarrassing tears welling in his eyes at this, the smallest gesture of being cared for. Mark looked down, cleared his throat. “Uh… okay, boss. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Elijah said, patting Mark’s knee. “We’ve gotta take care of each other in this hell hole of an industry, y’know?”

Mark couldn’t look up. The thought of his boss seeing him cry was entirely too much for him to handle. “Right,” he whispered. “Right.”

***

The hardest part of hiding an illness, Mark knew from experience, was speaking.

Putting on makeup and looking like a human instead of a corpse? Easy. He’d learned how to apply concealer so it didn’t look like he was in drag – just enough that in the dim lighting of the restaurant you couldn’t tell if those were dark circles or shadows. He’d learned if you added a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, no one noticed that your nose was also red, and he’d figured out the hard way that there was never a world in which he needed eyeliner, even if it made his eyes look less bloodshot.

He always dressed immaculately when he wasn’t feeling well; extra-crisp button down, sport coat, his expensive Ray Ban glasses, not the cheapos from Zenni he usually donned. Mark shined his shoes the second he felt a tickle in his throat, broke out the cuff links if he suddenly sneezed more than thrice in a row. He’d been trained well by Elijah to hide the visual cues of any oncoming malady.

Hiding how he really felt came even more naturally; he’d been practicing that since childhood. Complaining wasn’t in his nature, or had maybe been stamped out entirely at some point – either way, Mark could be actively passing out, unable to breathe, coughing so hard he couldn’t form a sentence, and he wouldn’t even mention it. Of course, he’d been sent home from work for being ill before, but never once had he chosen to go. Even the thought of saying ‘I’m sick’ made him dizzy with unease. You need to work through that in therapy, Matt had said to him multiple times, and he knew it was true, but it was also helpful. In this industry, admitting defeat was akin to admitting you sucked at your job.

The voice, though? That was always what gave him away. No matter how much medicine he took, he could always hear the rasp that overtook his voice immediately. His m’s and n’s turned to rounded shadows of their former selves even if he blew his nose every five minutes. His timbre lowered considerably, to the point that when Matt first saw him sick he asked how it felt to be able to do a perfect Johnny Cash, but only when he felt like shit. It was a problem, but Mark was a pretty quiet guy in general. If he was quieter than usual, usually no one was the wiser.

That’s what he hoped – that his boss would be none the wiser – as he dressed in his perfectly-tailored suit that morning, stifling sneeze after painful sneeze into handfuls of tissue all the while. Just don’t talk, he thought as he dotted Maybeline under his eyes. No one has to know.

Of course, not talking was a bit… difficult when his boss was around. “Good morning,” Elijah called to Mark as he buzzed through the kitchen, trying to make his way into the dining room without having to make small talk. Dammit. Mark stopped, begrudgingly, and nodded at his boss, who raised both eyebrows at the younger manager’s outfit choice. “Is there an event tonight I’ve forgotten?”

Mark shook his head, straightened his tie. “Just felt like dressing up,” he said, tactfully avoiding words with too many nasal letters. “How’re you, boss?”

“I’m well,” Elijah said, pointedly. He patted the empty chair next to him, prompting Mark to sit; don’t let him get a good look at you, a voice in Mark’s head chastised. Don’t get taken off the floor. “Greyson’s not coming in till three, if you want to do your preshift report in here today.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. “I like the dining roomb.” Fuck.

Elijah cocked his head to the side, but didn’t mention Mark’s voice. “How’s Matt feeling?” he asked, another pointed question.

“He’s okay – a little better. Said he’d be here at four.” Mark patted himself on the back for maneuvering around any pesky m’s or n’s that time. Elijah nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it,” Elijah said, standing. The younger manager was several inches taller than his boss, but Elijah was still able to look him fairly closely in the eye. Once again, one word rattled around in Mark’s head: fuck. “How are you feeling?”

Mark allowed a smile to form on his rapidly-chapping lips. “Good, boss. Ready to work,” he said simply. God, he needed to clear his throat. And more than that, he really, really needed to blow his nose.

Elijah nodded. “Alright,” he said, apparently placated. “Go ahead, then.”

“Thanks, boss,” Mark said, stepping out of the office doorway and pushing through the swinging kitchen doors before Elijah could say anything else. He’d made it through the first test, somehow. Just in time, too, he thought, making a beeline towards the bathroom. Because I really fucking need to -

“NTSHH!” Mark stifled a near-silent sneeze into his wrist as he yanked open the guest bathroom door. Finally, locked in the bathroom alone, he allowed himself to be as disgusting, as sick as he really was.

“Hhuh -! Hh- ETZSCH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Huh… hh’RRSHH-ue!” Mark collapsed in on himself, scrambling to collect a handful of tissues so he wouldn’t ruin the sleeve of his suit. He blew his nose as thoroughly as he could – not that it made any difference, he was still stuffed up to the gills. A pathetic little cough escaped his lungs, prompting another tickle in his sinuses. “HUHTTSCHH-ue!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chastised himself, blowing his nose again. He’s going to fucking hear you.

He waited a moment or two to see if Elijah would push through the door – he didn’t – before sitting fully clothed on the toilet and pulling out his phone.

11:56AM

Mark

what is this, the fucking plague?

Almost immediately, Matt texted back.

11:57AM Matt

o shit, did we get you already? baby im so sorry. u shouldve told me u weren’t feeling good last night u couldve stayed over

11:57AM Mark

not your fault. and I’m ok, just trying to avoid Elijah, he’s gonna be so pissed.

11:59AM

Matt

omfg he’ll get over it. its not like someone in that restaurant isnt sick every other week

Mark sighed, his lungs crackling at the effort. Matt was right; someone was almost always sick at Elliot’s, that was the way of things in this industry. They all shared drinks, they worked in close quarters, it was bound to happen. This was less about the illness itself – of course he’d been sick at work before, who hadn’t? - and more about the look he knew he’d see on Elijah’s face when he’d finally have to crack. He’d gone directly against his boss’s orders, had put his job and the restaurant second to his baser desires. That’s no way to get ahead in this world, his dad’s voice bellowed from the base of his brain. Mark shuddered; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face Elijah’s look of pure disappointment. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Mark stood and washed his hands. He took an inventory of his face in the mirror – eye bags poorly covered by drugstore makeup, his nose raw and red, his mouth slightly open to allow him to breathe – and realized how truly awful he looked. Was there even a chance that Elijah didn’t know he was sick? Doubtful, his dad’s voice muttered.

You have to just try, another voice in his head pleaded. Just push through, you know how to push through. You’ve done it a million times before. He doesn’t have to know.

That voice, Mark knew, was delusional – a child’s gnawing plea to be accepted, to not get in trouble, to not be thought of as a burden – but he knew that sometimes you had to be delusional, had to listen to the saddest, smallest part of yourself to get through a day. He pulled his phone back out before leaving the bathroom.

12:04PM

Mark

just please don’t say anything to Elijah when you get here, ok? I’m fine, I promise. its honestly probably just in my head, it’s probably nothing so just don’t say anything. see u soon.

Pathetic, his dad’s voice spat, and Mark knew the voice was right. But that was nothing new, nothing to dwell on; he’d always been pathetic. Mark switched off his phone then, not wanting to be comforted by his boyfriend, and stepped onto the floor.

***

“Mark,” Matt said, reaching up to touch the front of house manager’s forehead, “you really need to go.”

Mark pulled away before Matt could touch him, though not by choice. “HRRSHH-uhh! Hh-! HhNTZSHH-ue! Snrrf. Leave mbe alone.”

Matt’s hand recoiled at the ice in his boyfriend’s voice, obviously hurt. Normally, Mark would’ve nearly fallen to his knees at the thought of hurting Matt’s feelings, but today, with the cold from hell progressing quicker than he ever could’ve anticipated, he couldn’t even find it in himself to apologize. Obviously he needed to go, but that would mean admitting to illness; it would mean begin taken off the floor until god-knows-when. It would mean Elijah replacing him.

No. He wasn’t about to go.

“Honey,” Matt said carefully, touching Mark’s hand across the expo board, “I’mb sure Elijah would understand. It’s a slow ndight, he already sent Greyson back home. What are you trying to prove?”

Of course, Matt was right; last night’s crazy shift was in stark contrast to this evening’s steady pace. There were hardly twenty more covers for the evening, and yes, even Greyson had admitted defeat and slunk out right at six p.m., in a fevered haze. The only reason Matt was still here was because his fever had broken this morning and, despite the lingering cough and stuffy nose, he was clearly feeling better. Good enough, even, to have gone behind Mark’s back and talked to Elijah.

“Matt told me,” Elijah had cornered him right before preshift started, in the back server station while everyone else ate family meal. Mark felt his stomach sink. Fucking Matt, he thought, clearing his throat to address his boss in the most normal voice he could muster.

“Told you what?” he asked, straightening his tie. Elijah gave the younger manager a knowing look.

“You don’t look like you feel well, Mark,” he said, obviously trying a different tactic. This time, Mark’s stomach knotted; he felt, for a moment, like a little kid, wanting to fall to the ground in front of his mommy and just allow himself to be comforted. He thought for a fleeting moment of how good it would feel to just admit it; I’m sick, he would say, if he were a normal fucking person, I want to go to bed.

Instead, Mark shook his head. “I don’t kndow what Matt told you, but he doesn’t kndow what he talking about,” he managed, his voice cutting out only once. “I’mb fine.”

Elijah sighed. “Mark, listen, I know I was an asshole yesterday -”

“Boss,” Mark cut Elijah off. “Please. I’mb okay. Just please, let mbe work.”

He’d walked away then, hadn’t let Elijah say whatever it was he wanted to say, and had avoided Matt as well as he could throughout service. Now, mid-shift, when all the cooks and servers were side-eyeing them from he expo board, was not the time to hash this out.

“I’mb ndot trying to prove anything, Matt,” Mark said now, grabbing two plates from the window. “Just stay out of mby business. What table?”

Matt bit his cheek, peaked at the chit. “Please don’t be mbad,” he said, voice quiet. Mark prickled; he couldn’t help it. He was mad. He’d asked one stupid thing of Matt, and now here he was, career in trouble, embarrassed in front of both of their staffs, and once again gearing up for another painful -

“HTTSHH-ue! God, fugck,” Mark swore, ducking expertly away from the plates he was holding. He sucked in through his nose hard enough to make himself dizzy, and looked back at Matt. “What table, Chef?” he asked, pointedly. Matt winced.

“Thirty-three,” he said finally. Mark nodded.

“Great. Thangks.” He turned on his heels and pushed out the kitchen doors.

***

Before it happened, Mark found himself thinking exactly what his boyfriend was moaning the night previous: I’m gonna pass out, I know I am.

The only difference was, Mark was correct.

He’d been feeling shittier and shittier as the night went on. It began with spells of dizziness that came anytime he moved his head too fast, then moved on to an ache in his chest every time he coughed. A cold is one thing, he remembered Elijah saying the night previous. Whatever they have is entirely something else.

Elijah the prophet.

He kept pushing through. Plate after plate came out of the kitchen on his aching arms; he shook drinks while coughing into his shoulder, and sniffled his way through seating guests. Mark could feel Elijah’s eyes on him, though his boss refused to speak to him throughout the shift. I’ll show him, his fever-addled mind kept saying. I can do this. I’m fine.

It wasn’t until the last table had sat that his body well and truly told him he’d had enough. Mark was seeing stars when he grabbed a filet and swordfish, and once again he ignored it. He ignored the room swimming before him as he pushed out of the kitchen. He ignored the sway in his step.

“Shit, Mark!” was the last thing he heard, standing in the middle of the dining room with hot plates in each of his hands. There was no way to tell who said it – Elijah? Matt? – but it didn’t really matter, because before he could respond, his vision became a tiny pinkprick, his knees buckled, and the lights went out.

***

When the world came back into focus, he had somehow teleported into his bed.

At first, Mark tried desperately to get up; he’d fallen in the middle of the restaurant, that he unfortunately remembered immediately. There had been people around, guests watching, and he immediately felt his face flame with embarrassment. Oh, Elijah is going to kill me.

That was when he realized he was no longer in the restaurant. Mark placed a hand over an aching eye; was it all a dream? He looked down – no, it couldn’t be. He was still in his tailored suit, the tie and ciff links missing, but otherwise dressed to the nines.

“Whoa there, kid,” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Go ahead and lie back down.”

Mark blearily glanced towards the voice. There, just outside his bedroom, stood Elijah, a steaming cup in one hand and a thermometer in the other. Fuck.

“Shit, Elijah, I’mb so sorry I ca – HTSHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe,” Mark, any facade of health finally washed away, used his expensive suit jacket to wipe his nose. Elijah glided across the small room and sat on the foot of the bed, handing the younger man the cup. Tea.

“Save your breath,” Elijah said. “You already apologized about a hundred times at the restaurant.”

He had? Mark gave Elijah a confused look, and sat back on the pillows behind him. He hadn’t even realized he’d come to at the restaurant at all.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah said, nodding. “To me. To Matt. To the guests. To the EMTs. I would think you’d be apologized out.”

EMTs? Mark cringed; as if he hadn’t been embarrassed enough. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he figured it was probably better that he didn’t remember. Small mercies, he thought.

“Lij,” Mark croaked, taking a sip of the tea, “I really amb… sorry. I mbean, I can’t imagine how mbuch I embarrassed you. Thangk you for bringing mbe home… I understand if you can’t…let mbe, uh. Work there. Anymore.”

Mark, destroyed by fever, and aches, and what was probably some sort of bronchitis-sinus-infection super-fucking-hybrid, couldn’t help but let the angry, ashamed tears fall as he said it. Matt wasn’t here, which most likely meant he was out both a boyfriend and a job. You fucking idiot. You stupid, fucking idiot, how dumb could you -

Elijah broke through the screaming in his head – he took Mark’s arms in his hands, placed his cup on the side table, and pulled him in for a hug. “Mark,” his boss said, “you really had us worried.” He pulled the younger manager back, concern painted on his face. “Of course you aren’t fired, I don’t know why you’d think that of me,” he said, a moment so raw that Mark felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “You should’ve just told me you were so sick. So you could go and rest. I would’ve even let Matt go with you.” Elijah patted his knee then, and handed Mark back the mug. “It’s just a restaurant, Mark. You’re more important than service.”

Mark felt his eyes well up once again. Had anyone ever told him he was worth more than the work he did? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, and that felt like an even harder gut-punch.

“I just…” he managed, wiping beneath his eyes. “I just didn’t wandt you to replace mbe. I’mb sorry for letting Mbatt get mbe sick.”

At this, Elijah actually laughed. “Mark,” he said, “you’re young. You’re in love; it comes with the territory. I was annoyed because Greyson and Matt are constantly getting everyone in that restaurant sick. I wasn’t trying to attack you.” He smiled then, a small and slightly sad smile. “I’m sorry if that’s how to came off.”

Mark didn’t know what to say; he felt awful, like he’d been hit by a semi, and he just wanted to sleep. See Matt. Apologize for being a dick. And sleep.

“Is Mbatt mad at mbe?” he croaked, pulling his legs into his chest. This time, Elijah actually laughed.

“I don’t think Matt knows how to be mad at you,” he said. “He’s just closing up the line; he was actually the one who brought you back here, but you were racked out so I said I’d come keep an eye on you till he got back.” Elijah shrugged, gave a little knowing smile. “He’ll be back soon. Okay? We don’t have to talk any more about this now. Just… try to sleep.” He patted Mark’s shoulder; a fatherly gesture from a man who claimed to know nothing about being a parent. “I’ll call Matt.”

Finally, finally, Mark conceded. He wanted to thank Elijah, or maybe apologize again, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words. Instead, he just nodded, grateful, and sank back into his pillow. He felt his eyes close, and allowed himself, for once, to let someone else take care of him.

He knew, maybe for the first time in his life, that he was safe.

[zimt-deathnote]

You asked for it, and here it is, Near scenario:

You mentioned a while ago that you imagined at some point Mello just lost it and injured Near seriously.

The fight is followed by a meltdown, a bad one like he hadn’t had in years. Near shuts himself in his room after receiving medical attention, his roommate his only contact with the outside.

He had gotten better at controlling his emotions and reactions since he got to Wammy’s, his self esteem had gotten slightly better since so many failures in public school. But losing it completely in front of all of his classmates, like some baby who can’t stand up for himself, is incredibly humiliating. He’s not angry at Mello. Not that he likes what happened, at all. Still, no matter how supportive his family is, how well Wammy’s taking care of him and helping him, he can’t help blaming himself every time he has an outburst.

Since the staff can’t manage to get him out, after two days they decide to call the family. He doesn’t want to speak to them. Not another failure, not after his parents had found some hope that he might manage on his own.

The day next, his sister comes. She comes into the room, Near’s roommate politely excuses himself.

Near’s in his corner/laboratory on the ground, keeping his hands and eyes busy by dismantling some toy robot. His face is all purple and bandaged.

After a while, his sister gets him to talk to her.

S (for sister, can’t remember her name): so, who do I have to kill? What happened?

N: Don’t be silly, if you want to commit a murder I should remind you that a school full of future detectives isn’t really the ideal place. Unless you want to become our new assignment of the week. You would make the children really happy though.

She asks if he wants to come back home, he refuses. It takes him a lot of effort to convince her that he was not being bullied, and that this was a very isolated accident. Yet, she insists on wanting to know what’s going on.

It’s afternoon, and yet the orange light does not come through the window in the isolated room that was picked just for his needs, sealing him away from his classmates.

Near shares his consternation at having been unable to read the situation before it escalated, and his shame for the meltdown in front of everyone. Of course he knows that it’s mostly Mello’s fault for beating him, but he also knows that if he wants to become a good detective he’ll have to know how to recognise a violent reaction when it’s arriving, or he’ll never be independent.

She smiles.

“Nate-“

“Don’t call me that, you can’t do it here.”

“Nate, when will you get it into that huge brain of yours that nobody ever is actually fully able to function on their own? All of us got blindspots, but not many are so aware of where they are, and not so many would be such sticklers in trying to make up for them. You are doing your best. That’s more than many people can say to do.”

N: “….I’ll admit I haven’t seen much improvement in Mello’s anger issues lately”

S: “haha definitely not, by the way where can I find him? Mom ordered me to-“

N: “whatever it is, please don’t.”

Near is not completely alone in his dark room for that evening.

That’s the gist of the scene. Hope it can be inspiring.

Thank you for reading ❤️❤️

I had this in my inbox for so long now cause I wanted to write that incident out better first but I couldn't get around to do it yet </3

But this here, this is the good shit ☝️ Thank you so so so much for this absolutely lovely scene, Anon 🤍

Sister's name is Alison btw!

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

[paddymoonstruck]

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Nepo!OC

Summary: here !!!

Next Chapter

Notes: It’s here! Hope you like it. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comment section. Let me know if you want to be added on the tag list!

In the midst of the bustling crowd, the whispers of the cool wind blew past Sofina’s figure. Her honey brown locks cascades down her back, jostling the perfected curls on her head. She produced a well-mannered smile at the cluster of people beginning to narrow down her walkway as they approached her path. Their collective voices sync achingly in her ears as the volume increased in a rapid pace.

She bowed her head, an attempt to conceal the mischievous smirk plastered on her face. Her fingers adjusted the sunglasses shielding her eyes from the blinding flashes of the cameras pointing at her face.

“See, this is why I don’t particularly like arriving with you.”

Behind her shades, she gave a sidelong glance to her company. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. His lips thinned, brows furrowed at the earnest as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I don’t see a problem,” She shrugged, a whimsical tone carried in her voice.

Joris looked at her, a scowl decorating his lips. He gave her a once over, deepening the lines on his forehead as he observed the aching differences of their attire.

Sofina graced the paddock in a white oxford button up, cream-colored wool blend high waisted trousers that was secured by a leather belt and a pair of flats and a watch that certainly cost as much as his house. Her whole ensemble mercilessly trampled on the white tee and light washed jeans he’d probably bought in a thrift store.

“We agreed to dress casual,” Joris sighed, shaking his head but the slight simper on his lips betrayed his expression. “You said you’d follow this time.”

“This is casual!” Sofina argued, smirk growing every passing minute of this conversation. She knew it wasn’t.

On Joris’s part, he should’ve known better. Sofina was the daughter of a prominent business magnate. She was a part of a family far beyond their wildest imagination. Exuding the confidence and prestige she naturally had was an aura no common man could possibly learn.

“I look like your driver.” He droned.

“Nonsense, you look dashing!” She assured, nudging his brooding stature. “And besides, my driver is somewhere over . . . there,” Raising her palm, she pointed to their intended destination.

Sofina smiled victoriously as she noticed his quiet relent, hooking her arm around his and proceeding to drag him through the mix of bodies despite his protests. They ignored the media’s shouts for attention as they weaved their way towards the obnoxiously bright red infrastructure that was otherwise known as the Ferrari motorhome.

Upon their arrival in the motorhome, they were immediately greeted by the roaming staff in the lobby.

The first to come near was the French Team Principal of Ferrari, Frederic Vasseur with his usual jolly smile.

“Sofina! What a pleasant surprise!” He gushed, lengthening his hand for her to shake.

The brunette returned his infectious delight, baring a kind smile of her own and taking his hand. “Surely it’s not that much of a shock that I’m here, Fred,” She jokingly tutted.

To which the Frenchman bellowed out a hearty laugh. “Of course not! I just was not expecting you to be so early. Everybody’s just warming up, you see.”

Sofina hummed, looking around the room. It was indeed a latish time for her to be here. In contract to the countless media outlets fussing about outside, Ferrari’s motorhome maintained a tranquil commodious space.

The clank of her shoes echoed through the air as it hit the marbled ground. Strolling further inside, she has yet to spot the one she was looking for.

“Charles is getting ready in his driver’s room,” Fred supplied as if having read her mind. “He will be out shortly. Feel free to have a seat in the lounge.”

Sofina nodded, flashing Fred a grateful smile before he went on to do his job.

She went ahead and sat down on one of the red polyester armchair while Joris settled in a duplicate just across her.

After a several minutes of endlessly replying to company emails and submitting “between life and death” documents to her father, the faint squeaking of sneakers finally broke the cycle.

Sofina instantly glanced up from her torturous tasks to be greeted by a certain emerald eyed, Monegasque.

“Charlie!” She beamed at him, standing up with her arms already reaching for him.

Charles’s dimples pop out from the corners of his mouth at the greeting. He happily granted the excited girl’s request, elongating his arms around her waist.

He chuckled as her antsy limbs encircled his neck, never-minding the constricting grip she has on them. Bending down, he allowed her an easier access that was suppressed by their differences in height.

She gasped as she pulled away, sending Charles into a frenzy at the sudden reaction. He searched her eyes for answers but was only given a cutting glare.

“Have you been eating well?” She interrogated, voice low but filled with nothing but concern. “You look thinner than when I last saw you . . .”

Charles raised an eyebrow, corner of his lips twitching at her exaggerated statement. “We saw each other last week.”

“And?” She asked, genuinely confused by his utterance.

Charles laid his palms on both sides of her face, blaring out her displeasure with the mission to smooth out the distress on her.

“Ow!” She hissed, swatting away his arm as pain seared in her cheek from his the ministrations of his fingertips.

“I’m fine, bébé,” He assured, bitting his lip to prevent the further growth of his smirk. “You know training in the first week is the most crucial. It’s normal to lose weight.”

“By this much?” She scoffed, motioning to his face. His cheeks were hollower, making his cheekbones more prominent and the thinning of his face were generally noticeable.

Charles tried to ward away her worries, placing a soft peck on her cheek before shifting his attention to Joris.

Sofina watched them engage in pleasantries, Joris mentioning how dressed up Sofina was. She merely stifled a laugh at the scandalize look that resurfaced on his features once more at the topic.

“Oh come on,” Charles quipped, eyes traveling from her feet to the top of her head. “She looks fantastic,” He winked, “You look very beautiful,”

Sofina gave him a thumbs up at his specification, amused by his antics.

“What do you need now? More money? A cheque? A car?” She raised a finger up to silence his mirthful face. “My soul?”

His bubbly exterior exploded into a fit of hysterics at the reference she used. Sofina introduced him the hit reality show Keeping Up With The Kardashians when the pandemic started. It was her insistent persuasion that ultimately led them to binge watching every episode until they’ve had to wait for the newest one.

Joris rolled his eyes at the giggling pair, waiting for them to collect themselves. Sofina caught his eyes and began to explain. “It’s Khloe Kardashian.”

Truthfully, he didn’t gain any knowledge from the vague clarification. Nonetheless, he nodded.

“Do you need anything?” Charles faced Sofina.

“Aside from today’s testing results, not really.” She concluded, tapping at her phone to check her duties. “Sorry I wasn’t here for first and second day. I was drowning in paperwork.”

Charles omitted a sound of sympathy. Now that he was paying attention to her face, the dark circles under her eyes were more visible, matching the exhausted sigh that passed her lips.

“Did something happen?” He queried, gliding his fingers through the disarrayed curls from when she was sitting down.

She shook her head. “No, not exactly. But you know— I can handle it.” A buzz blossomed on her chest as the warmth of Charles’s palm radiated on her cheek.

Charles inhaled deeply, adjusting to the shift of the atmosphere. Instead of adding to the heavy pressure, he decided to change the subject.

“The car’s doing great,” He chided, hand falling onto her shoulder. “Ferrari finished on a high on both days. . .”

Sofina managed a smile, bobbing her head at the news she already knew. The information should have brought her more joy than what she was currently feeling but for some reason, a churning sensation struck her in the pit of her stomach.

“. . . Maybe even faster than Redbull?”

The claim got her to look up at Charles. A sheepish simper on his lips. Sofina couldn’t resist the amused huff hold hostage in her throat.

“With all improvements made, it’s a relief you’re more comfortable in the car than last year,” Her affirmation was met with a consensus from Charles and Joris.

Whenever Sofina was consumed by the sudden reminder of her intense duties, this was a place she often ran to. Ran to hide from the ridiculous demands of her supposedly unproblematic life.

With them, the biting tension of having to continuously prove herself didn’t exist in the here. It was without a doubt, easier to be. Especially in the eyes of whom knew her best.

Sofina met Charles’s eye. His emerald spheres dancing with a molten rays of the Bahrain sunlight. She would never tire of staring at them. The absurd amount of beguiling enchantment his eyes hold should be dubbed as illegal. If one were to stop and take a moment to admire he—

“GOOD MORNING, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

The sonorous voice from the speakers woke Sofina’s consciousness from her trance. She swiftly blinked away the dolly lopsided smile stuck on her face, tearing her gaze away from Charles. She bore the boundless embarrassment in regards the drawn out time she spent gawking at him.

“You— you get out there and uh—” She cleared her throat, avoiding his teasing eyes. “—Do your best—Charles!” She squirmed, a hand shoving at his shoulder as he got into her face, trying to catch her adorably flaming cheeks.

Charles aired out a laugh at the deathly glare she sent his way, admiring the futile attempt to hide her blushing face from him.

“I’ll see you later?” He declared, soft and gentle.

“Of course.” She wheeled her eyes, struggling to keep her smirk in bay as she saw to giddy look in his face.

With one last peck on the cheek and a wave for Joris, he turned and went on his way to the garage.

The tremulous sigh she released nearly collapsed her lung. Another year of Formula One, and owning most of Ferrari’s sponsorship held a great weight on Sofina’s shoulders. The pillars of her chosen empire were bound to fall with one wrong move. Proving her father right was the last thing she wanted and she’d hate for all of this to be blown in a million pieces because of what her father referred to as her incapability to be a firm leader.

Alas, heavy is the head that wears the crown and so is the heart that weighs it down.

Tag-list: @seairsunset @mindflay3r @tangointhequango @bwormie @eugene-emt-roe @herondalism @comfortzonequeen @weekendlusting @nomie-11 @i-ship-bullshit-2020 @cc13723things @charlesgirl16 @namgification @charizznorizz @missenclod @outerudeth

[rainbow-femme]

Rewatching the animated Beauty and the Beast

-Right off the bat the thing in the opening that gets me is not the possible age implication but the fact that this prince is opening his own doors and to people he’s not expecting. You’re lucky it was just an enchantress looking to test the purity of your heart and not an assassin. Just power posing with the door fully open, no guards, going “Oh hey it’s someone I don’t know! I’m going to have a conversation with them alone” before god and everybody. Of course you got cursed, your guards should have rugby tackled her before she could get her wand out

-I never liked Maurice as a kid and I still don’t. Like he’s not bad he’s just annoying to me every time he’s on screen. The wind blows and he’s dying on the side of a cliff somewhere

-It is never not funny to me that Belle promises to stay in the castle forever and then just leaves three hours later

-I love Gaston having his whole “I’m going to get Belle’s father locked up so she marries me” scheme and then she’s fully just not remotely near the town. He’s living in a high stakes drama and she’s clapping along to dancing tea cups

-Hey when Maurice goes to look for Belle he grabs a bunch of rolled up pieces of paper and protractor. Is the idea that he’s just gonna invent and build something while actively walking? Sir you spent 6 hours in a dungeon and nearly died of being in a dungeon disease, you can’t help yourself out of a wet paper bag much less get your daughter out of anywhere with an invention you made out of rocks and sticks while clawing your way through the woods because you’re dying again

-But it is funny to imagine this revolving door of Maurice and Belle trading themselves for the other until the beast is just like “hey if I let you both leave will you promise to never come back”

-Belle is such a dick at the beginning it’s so funny. “Oh there’s one place in this giant castle I can’t go? I bet he’s hiding all the really cool stuff in there and I’m going to ignore his wishes and that of the staff. Oh no, consequences, the guy who said not to come here is upset I came here! Who could have foreseen this!”

-Like it’s not bad writing, it’s her character arc that she was mainly focused on herself and her interests and pretty judgemental of people who weren’t like her, so her disrespecting someone’s boundaries because she want to sets up something she grows from, and she learns to connect with someone else on their level even if that person is different from her and she learns that people are more than their surface appearance and even an angry beast has depths if you actually get to know them and see their view of the world, and connecting with people who are different from you enriches your life. Which is why when the townsfolk later try to kill the beast because he’s different we see she’s now understood the danger of that way of thinking and is horrified

-But that’s such a funny thing to do just immediately upon entering a castle owned by a big scary beast. Day one hour one she’s like “oh boy I know where I wanna go!”

-I don’t want to be a CinemaSins and point out how improbable it is that Belle got a giant unconscious beast onto her horse when he would be hundreds of pounds. But I do want to see the scene of her doing it. I’m picturing the horse sorta laying down and the beast is on the ground like a sack of potatoes and Belle has her back against him and is pushing with her legs to try and roll him over. Or she’s got her shoulder against him and is trying to push that way but her feet keep slipping in the snow

-Oh my god I forgot they told her about the library before the beast “gives” it to her. She was already allowed to go in there and knew it existed, “giving” someone a room they had full knowledge of and access to is very funny

-But you know what if he’s the kind of guy who thinks that will work and she’s the kind of girl it works on then they’re perfect for each other. Just two people with zero social skills bumbling around a castle together, making weird decisions and the other is like “wow they’re so cute and normal”

-I love the sweeping faux crane shot during the ballroom dance. Over 30 years later and that shit still slaps, more animated movies need to act like they’re being shot and edited like live action

-Maurice really can find a way to immediately die in any situation. When he’s at home he’s fine but the second he leaves the town border he develops tuberculosis and begins losing all function in his limbs

-I’m going to be honest with you guys, I’ve seen various versions of Beauty and the Beast and every time it’s the letting Belle go scene I have the same thought: I absolutely would not have read that social interaction correctly, I would have been fully under the impression we were all aware I was running an errand and coming back later. Because if I’m Belle, and I can live in the cool castle with a friend and people who are nice to me or a town I specifically stated not liking filled with a guy who is pushy and makes me uncomfortable and people who are mean to me and zero friends, I would not have been like “oh thank god I can finally go back!”

-“You should go to him. I release you, you are no longer my prisoner” See to me that reads “We are friends and I am removing this technicality between us so you can go run out and do something that is clearly important to you.” I would not have picked up on everyone in the castle thinking I was leaving forever. I’d just show up two hours later like “boy, it’s been a day, huh?” and the beast is just laying face down on the floor in his room listening to a sad boy playlist

-But the beast is clearly part dog so I guess it’s a normal reaction for him to have

-I don’t want to victim blame, but if you have a sick dad and are equidistant between “castle where everyone likes you” and “town where everyone is mean to you” and your dying father can be cured by a nap, I feel like it’s a bit on you if bad things continue to happen in the Bad Things Happen To Me town

-Not saying she should have anticipated a mob coming to incarcerate her father but I do feel like it would be expected that the people who have been mean to you and your dad would continue to be mean to you and your dad in the Everyone Is Mean To You and Your Dad town

-Because if the forced incarceration hadn’t been an issue, they would have gone to town the next day and someone would go “Hey Belle, your dad said you were kidnapped by a beast.” And everyone would point and laugh and he’d start waving his arms and going “It was the biggest beast you ever saw! 18 feet tall and claws bigger than my head!” and people would probably suggest that the guy they all call Crazy Old Maurice may be crazy and Belle would need to prove he wasn’t. I just don’t think we would have ended up with much of a different situation in any timeline that involves going back to the town

-Ok. So. If I live in a town. And I find out there is a beast within walking distance that is sentient enough to take villagers prisoner. And this guy is like “yeah he took me and my daughter prisoner, he’s terrifying!” I’m not saying I would have been part of the mob but I do think I would be worried about there being a beast and two people he previously kept prisoner living next door. And her saying “no he’s actually very sweet” would sound like those people with exotic pets who get their faces eaten by their pet tiger. Like yes they’re wrong but Belle also thought he was scary and violent until she’d been there a number of hours. I feel like if instead of giving herself up she went to town and asked for help and they created a mob to get her father back she would not have been against the idea so it’s not wholly their fault for having the same idea

-“Is it dangerous?” “No, no, he’d never hurt anyone” Every owner of a dog who wants to bite you so so bad

-So when Belle and her father are alone she is clearly telling him that the beast let her go and is kind. When asked about the beast by the town, Maurice starts yelling about how he’s the most terrifying monster in the world. Belle has to show the beast to back up her father’s claims to try and save him for the second? third? time. And then they’re locked up and she says “this is all my fault” and this man does not for a second contradict her or take blame at all. “Yeah I can’t believe you specifically caused this mess.”

“We won’t rest until he’s good and deceased.” I know there are only so many words that rhyme with beast but that’s such a funny line in a bloodlust song. I will not rest until this animal has been declared legally dead by the state

-“We will fight even though the danger just increased” I’m obsessed with all the words they had to use to rhyme with beast

-It’s so funny that this is canonically France and he is canonically a prince. They didn’t make him a duke or a lord he is directly related to the royal family and in the line of succession. Likely not the dauphin because they wouldn’t have sent him to run a castle in the countryside away from the center of politics so probably a younger son but still, this guy is part of the royal family. They didn’t have to explicitly state this is France but they do, and they reference the baroque period so it’s after the construction of Versailles. The beast is actively being stabbed to death while sentient furniture watches and at the same time his family are canonically pissing on the walls and floors of their own home

-Oh my god the beast is brooding on a chaise. Did he drag it over to the window just so he could dramatically sit on his chaise and stare longingly out at the rain? Absolute break up mood

-He’s also in a different outfit that isn’t the fancy one or his every day one, he went and changed into a breakup outfit. Important to note the breakup outfit includes a cape and what he was previously wearing did not. He chose to put on a cape as part of his breakup outfit

-So Gaston points his arrow at the beast. The beast acknowledges it then looks away. Gaston then fires and hits him and he reacts all surprised and angry that it hurt like my dude you let him shoot you with an arrow, what did you think that experience would be

-It is so wild that Gaston assumes the beast is in love with Belle. Like yeah he’s right but what a wild assumption to make when you’re not even sure this thing comprehends human speech. Again my thought would be he’s attached to her like a dog is attached to its owner, I would not see a big furry animal and be like “this thing is fully sentient and feels romantic attraction to human women”. Yeah he’s wearing clothes but still that feels like a leap. Pointing at a dog in a sweater following its owner and yelling “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

-The beast’s arc is partly him controlling his temper, and we see him want to kill Gaston but controls himself and lets him go, immediately resulting in his own death. Gotta be honest I feel like less self control would have been helpful in that specific scenario

-I didn’t remember the blood spray after the beast is stabbed followed by the stab wound bleeding a good amount of blood. Are there other Disney princess movies with onscreen blood? I think in Mulan we see blood oozing out through clothes from an injury but that’s the only other one I can think of. Eugene gets pretty bloodlessly stabbed

-Best scene in the movie: The beast floats up in the air, actively transforms into a human in front of Belle, stands up, says “Belle, it’s me!” She then squints at him, touches his hair a bit, squints at his face, and when she recognizes his eyes she goes “It is you!” Ma’am what the hell else did you think was happening. If you didn’t recognize his eyes would you have just been like “Hmmm I dunno…”

-Ok so at the end there is an entire royal court watching them dance. Again I don’t want to be a CinemaSins I just want to see the missing scene. Like did he explain what happened to him? If yes then again I want to see that conversation of him explaining to his family how he was literally transformed into a literal beast for the last ten years and they had no idea this was happening to their family member. If no, imagine just going back to being a prince after 10 years as a beast and you just have to pretend like everything has been normal this whole time. I want a sequel that’s just the human beast reintegrating not only back into society but French royal society, which was notorious for having some of the most intricate and complicated social etiquette in all of Europe

-The final shot is a stained glass window of them with a prominent rose. Now in the original he had a whole rose garden he was very attached to, so that makes sense. But I feel like this beast specifically would have only negative connotations with roses and that window would probably be seen as a little tasteless given the circumstances. “It’s a rose! You know, the physical manifestation of a curse that was clearly quite upsetting for you for nine years and roughly 360 days, reminding you daily of your flaws! Isn’t that fun?”

“Original score by Alan Menken” Look up his IMDB, if you live in at least the US this man has written the score to your entire life

[magics-neptunes-things]

Blue Words (One Love 8)

Hi guys!

Some of you asked for it, so this is the new chapter for One Love.

Please be aware that this chapter isn't the happiest of all I wrote for this series, but I tried to add some fluff in it.

Also the Title is from a french song called "Les mots bleus" and this is the only song with the world "blue" i could find, with Lucy going to Chelsea. (Still hating it)

Thanks again for reading me ♥

TW : Angst, Sadness.

(1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7)

London has always been a city who was foreign for Ona. Even when she was living in England, she was in Manchester and all the teams here were just opponent. Unless Laia Codina who came there in 2023 and Mariona who will be here now, she doesn’t have friends here. There are Laia and Leila in Manchester still, but she didn’t have any reason to come back in England since she left for Barcelona.

Well, it was before.

Because now, Lucy is going in fucking Chelsea, a team she hated all her life. It would have been better in her eyes if Lucy went in Arsenal, at least she will be with Mariona. But no, she’s wearing blue and Ona can’t get used to it.

When Lucy received another call from the Barcelona’s staff, they were both in Cuba, their day just finish after strolling in the city during the afternoon. They were enjoying the swimming pool of the hotel, Ona inside water while Lucy was happily drinking a Piña Colada, sitting on the swimming pool with her feet in it. Ona understood very quickly that the conversation isn’t going the way Lucy hopped.

Because the English woman really wanted to stay in Barcelona. She loves the city, the people, the team, the league, the wins… And she loves Ona, of course. She never decided anything in football while thinking about her love life, but this time she wanted to do it. Life chose to be different though.

Lucy didn’t take a decision without talking to Ona before. Lucy wanted to play as much as possible, she’s not young anymore and she knows that her months are counted. She’s not stupid. But Barcelona couldn’t promise her that, now that everyone came back from the respective injuries. Lucy could have accepted less money if she was still able to play as much as she wants. But it wasn’t Barça’s plans. So, after a long discussion with Ona, she didn’t accept Barcelona’s offer, with sadness.

Only one day later Chelsea came to knock at her door, and after some adjustments, she said yes. It wasn’t ideal to be that far from Ona, but it’s better than Mexico or the USA who wanted her too.

Between their trip in Cuba and Ona’s training for the Olympics, Ona managed to find some days to come with Lucy in London to look for a flat.

They managed to find a duplex on the last ground of a building near a park, for when Lucy will have to walk Narla. It seems pretty good to be honest, but Ona has trouble to imagine Lucy here. She always has known her in Barcelona, in a sunny home. Not a rainy and grey one. It makes her sad, without any reason.

Ona putted a brave smile on her face during all her trip with Lucy, not wanting to damage any memories they could have here. Their time is counted after all.

She met some of the Chelsea players and she doesn’t really like them. She doesn’t like the way Millie Bright seems to find normal for Lucy to be here. She doesn’t like how some of the other girls are all flushed when they see Lucy. She talked a little bit with Julia Bartel who was playing in Barcelona while Lucy was talking with some of her teammates from England, but it was hard to keep smiling.

The day after, they went to Ikea to buy some furniture for Lucy’s flat, she already made come what she will need here with a boat. She bought a lot of candles from their favorite shop in Barcelona to have a little piece of Barcelona in London.

She took advantage of Ona getting a shower to put the last details of her decoration, before they have to leave to go to a party organized by Niamh Charles with a lot of Chelsea’s players. Lucy asked her if she wanted to go, and Ona returned her the question. When she saw Lucy hesitated, Ona mumbled something about creating a bond with her teammates and they decided to go.

But Ona would rather have time with Lucy only. Once again, she chooses to put Lucy’s feelings before hers.

She has the same false smile on her face all night, talking from time to time with some of Lucy’s new teammates, working on herself not to stick with her girlfriend all night. She knows how the English are different from the Spain about touching and everything.

“She will be great in Chelsea Ona, you will see. We’ll take good care of her.” Millie Bright told her with a big smile at some point in the evening.

Ona just smiled, asking herself what the blonde meant by that. She knows that Millie is straight or at least engaged with someone, but it’s still sound strange in her ears. She talked the most with Aggie Beever-Jones and Jess Carter, munching some vinegar crisps.

Lucy went to check on her several times during the night, but Ona always told her that she was fine, with the best smile she could give her. But Lucy isn’t fooled by Ona. She knows very well when her girlfriend is pretending, and it breaks her heart every time that Ona assures her she was fine and that they can stay a little bit more.

But at some point, Ona just feels overwhelmed. She’s not angry, or sadder than before. There is just too many feelings for her at that point and with the noise, the music and people blasting it’s just too much. She just has to cross Lucy’s eyes for the English woman to understand that it was time to go home.

“Come on” Lucy just says, reaching her hand for Ona to take.

The Spaniard oblige, following Lucy who pretends to be tired with the move and everything.

“Hope to see you soon again, Ona” Niamh smiles at the Catalan when they went to her to say goodbye.

“It will be hard but I definitively want her wagging in London for me” Lucy smirks, grabbing Ona by her hips to kiss her temple.

“Alexia will kill me if I wear a Chelsea jersey” Ona points with a small smile.

Lucy snorts and they say their goodbyes to the last people before leaving the heath of the flat. It feels good to breath fresh air, Ona closes her eyes two seconds while breathing intensely before turning in Lucy’s direction.

“Uber or walk?” Lucy asks.

“Walk? If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not”

Lucy smiles at her and Ona smiles back. Her smiles grow bigger when she feels Lucy passing her arm around her shoulders, and she let herself go against the bigger frame of her girlfriend.

“Better that way” Ona whispers, grabbing Lucy’s fingers with her hand.

Lucy hums, her lips stroking Ona’s hair softly. She can feel the younger girl’s trouble, but she doesn’t want to push her buttons and forced her to talk to her. But she feels like Ona might explode at some point, and it���s not in her habits to shut down her feelings like that.

She choses not to insist to much with Ona, using a small talk during their trip to her flat. They know Mariona is getting her things done during those days too, except that her girlfriend was already in London to find her a good flat. Even if it will be at St-Albans, Ona is glad to know that there is at least some people Lucy knows already.

She’s happy to find back Lucy’s flat, even if it doesn’t quite feel home, at least it’s Lucy’s.

“Are you tired or do you want to watch something with a last drink?”

“As you wish Corazon” Ona shrugs.

Lucy looks at her several seconds before deciding for a movie and a drink. She makes some tea while Ona is looking at something they can watch, grumbling when she realizes that a lot of the series they are watching in Barcelona aren’t watchable here.

“What did you make a choice?” Lucy asks with two fuming cups of tea. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Friend’s” Ona grumble, before throwing herself in Lucy’s front when she sits next to her.

Clingy Ona isn’t really new, but Grumpy Ona is, Lucy thinks. She play with her girlfriend’s long hair for several minutes, watching television with an absent-minded air.

“Are you ok?” Lucy finally asks.

“Sí, porque?”

“Because I don’t have the feeling that you are. You’re grumpy like an old man.”

“No, I’m not” Ona pouts.

Her face is so cute that Lucy can’t help but laugh a little. She hopes that it won’t make Ona even more grumpy, so to avoid that she starts tickling her.

“Yes, you are!” Lucy smirks while tickling her girlfriend.

Ona tries to resist the urge to laugh, but Lucy knows how and where she’s ticklish. It doesn’t take her more than ten seconds to have a laughy mess writhing under her.

“Stop, Lucy please” Ona manages to pronounce between two laughs.

Lucy finally stops and she looks attentively at Ona while the younger calm her laughters. She lets her take her breath, stroking softly and lovingly her cheeks. She lets five other seconds pass, during which she looks deep in Ona’s eyes.

“Come on, Bonita, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Ona sighs and look away, making Lucy frowns. She’s usually the one who is struggling to let her feelings and struggle out, not Ona. Ona talks to her, explain to her her thoughts without any fear to be judge or mocked.

“Hey” she adds after some times, turning delicately Ona’s face in her direction. “Come on, it’s me. You can tell me everything, you used to do that. Don’t shut yourself from me, please.”

Ona blinks several times, biting her lip, before finally deciding to open her mouth. She can’t refuse anything to Lucy when she talks to her this way.

“It’s just… I don’t know” she frowns in turn. “I knew what will happen, but this weekend is like the concretization of all of this. And I know that I push you to accept this offer, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to let you go.”

Lucy wants to talk, but she realizes soon that now that Ona has started to talk, she needs to get everything out.

“It’s hard to know that you will be here after everything we had in Barcelona. I hate coming home to have a reminder that you’re gone, I hate to see Coco looking for Narla, I hate not to find the toothpaste tube open with its plug next to it. I know it’s not your fault, but I miss you and it hasn’t even started.”

She really wanted not to cry, but she can’t help the tears rolling on her cheeks. Of course she knew, it doesn’t mean that it’s an easy moment to live. They were so delighted when Ona signed her contract in Barcelona, so far away to think that they will be in this situation again several months later.

“And this weekend, I really wanted to help you settle down and make your flat cozy and comfortable and lovely, but it’s like that damn sadness couldn’t leave me alone. It’s your flat, not ours. It feels so strange.”

Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, when she wipes harshly her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. Lucy needs to swallow the lump in her throat before talking, so she wipes herself Ona’s tears, way more softly than her, to have a distraction.

“I miss you too” Lucy mumbles before sitting, because she was still half lying on Ona. “It’s hard to imagine my daily life without your mess in it, but I swear on everything I have that I will come in Barcelona as soon as I have a day off, Ona. And I know you will come too.”

She stays silence for several seconds, during which Ona nods at Lucy’s words. Of course, she will come. Even if it’s mean catching a cold every weekend while freezing in the stand.

“And for the flat… Come on” she says suddenly, standing and grabbing Ona’s hand.

The Spaniard doesn’t have any other choice than following her to her bedroom. She frowns when she sees that Lucy has installed other frames, probably while she was showering before leaving for the party.

“This is the jerseys we swapped after the World Cup, but I thought it will be better to frame them together”

Lucy looks Ona when she gets closer to the jerseys while she’s talking. No one knows that they swapped their jersey that night and if someone just take a look at the frame, it won’t be easy to understand. But they both know and it’s enough.

“This one is a mix of the pictures we took when we won all our cups last year” she points another frame.

Ona gets closer of this one too, just to see a mix of official pictures of both of them, but unofficial pictures too. There is for example no way in the world that they posted picture of them kissing with the Supercopa cup, Lucy grabbing Ona’s waist while the younger has a bottle of beer in hand.

“And those are what I wanted to hang on other rooms too” Lucy adds while rummaging in one cupboard before taking out several other frames, of different sizes. “This one is for my nightstand (she shows a picture of them in Cuba), those are for my living room (there is a picture of Coco and Narla playing in the snow, one of them in Stani’s wedding, a selfie taking at Minorca and another one when Lucy’s family came to Barcelona to met the Battle) and I wanted to put that on my fridge (four photobooth pictures taking at Manchester, the first time Lucy came after they got together). Oh and this one is for the bedroom too (a picture of Ona with Lucy’s niece and nephew, playing on the beach).”

Lucy looks thoughtfully at the pictures before raising her eyes on Ona, almost shyly. Ona is still crying, (or again), she doesn’t even know. But this time, she’s smiling softly.

“You are not living here, but you are still part of that place Ona. No matter where I am, you are still with me. Forever.”

Ona almost crashes in her arms when she went for a hug and Lucy seriously think about writing to Jonatan because damn, those arms sessions for Ona worked maybe a little too much.

“I love you, so much” Lucy says again, Ona’s face in her neck. “I’m leaving Barcelona but I’m not leaving you. It doesn’t change the plans we made. I still want to marry you, we will have those little Ona running around in the house and everything we talked about”

“I want a little Lucia too” Ona objects weekly.

“My brother would probably say that it’s a terrible choice, but everything you want Bonita.”

Taking a big breath making her shivers, Ona finally leaves Lucy’s neck. She’s not crying anymore, and Lucy kisses her face almost ten times before talking again.

“I need you to talk to me when you are struggling like that. Can you promise me you will do?”

“Only if you promise too” Ona answers, looking at her expectantly.

Lucy rolls her eyes, which makes Ona smiles softly. They both know who will need to work the most between the two for that.

“Promised” Lucy finally says.

“Promised back”

Lucy kisses her on the lips that time, savoring Ona’s taste and Ona’s body against her. They didn’t talk about it, but Lucy will miss the lazy mornings in bed and having Ona around her like an octopus with messy hair. Ona stilling her clothes too. Talking about that…

“And I will leave half of the dressing for your clothes too, for when you will come to see me”

Ona smirks.

“I was hoping to leave every time with some of your clothes”

Lucy laughs this time and grab Ona’s face with both of her hands to kiss her one more time.

“Time to go to bed? I’m kind of exhausted.”

“Yes please” Ona mumbles.

They take turn in the bathroom, Lucy going to turn off the TV and the lamps in the living room before going in her bed. Ona follows her soon after, crawling under the sheets to snuggle against Lucy.

“We will be alright Ona, I swear” Lucy whispers in the dark.

“I know. I trust us” Ona whispers back.

She left her loving position to be able to kiss her.

“I’m going to miss the fan’s speculations about us being together after every game though” Ona smirks.

“Oh, don’t worry. I have an idea for that.”

Ona raises an eyebrow, questioning Lucy that way but the English woman just shake her head with a devilish smile before kissing Ona again. She managed to make her forget about what she just said, but the O. Battle jersey from Spain is definitively coming this week for her to wear during Spain’s first game in the Olympics.

[airwingacademy11]

flight steward course in Udaipur

Airwing Aviation academy, the name itself connotes the worth and implication of this industry. It runs on the ethics of technical knowledge to educate students in general so that they can achieve a fulfilling career and experience in near life. It is founded by Young professionals to train another group of would-be young professionals.

Click here to read more about flight stewards.

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for Gianpiero 'GP' Lambiese with wife pregnant!reader? She goes to the paddock during the Australian GP. When Max's car had an issue, she was worried for him. She was in the garage with Kelly and P, when he came, the car literally in flame. GP has to calm her down because her nerves and hormones are getting to her. Add anything you want. Just fluff and comfort. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :))

of course, anything for you bestie (even if the aus gp was months ago and I'm tryna prep to get more tickets next year)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

gianpiero lambiase x pregnant!wife!reader

---

“As soon as the race is over, I will be here, okay? I know it was not the greatest to have you come down here now, but we panicked, and now you’re here and then you have the flight back and then home until the baby comes, okay?”

“Darling, I would not have come if it was not safe, okay? We’ll all be okay. Now go get Max his win and then we can go.”

“Sounds like a plan.” GP leaned over the counter, planting a kiss on his wife’s lips before reluctantly dragging Max away from a curious P to discuss race strategy.

“Oh my god that’s a lot of smoke. But I think everyone is celebrating except the red bull fans because Max Verstappen has a mechanical problem and he is peeling off into the pits.”

The annoyance was very clear from the mechanics and as the marshalls ran down to extinguish the small fire that had started near Max’s breaks, but GP barely noticed this as he dashed across the pitlane. 

He was focused on his wife, who he had last seen chatting with Kelly and P about their future. He now couldn’t see her but he could see Kelly crouching on the ground and some medical staff close by.

“Hey, sorry, ‘scuse me.” GP had never cursed the sheer amount of celebrities at an F1 race as he tried to push through the crowd to where his wife was. He could hear Max and Christian calling out to him as he continued to push through the crowd towards his wife.

“Hey, darling, it’s all okay, I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m sure the smoke was a bit scary huh?” GP didn’t love his tone, he felt like he was babying his wife but he felt that short simple questions was the way to get through her panic.

“Mhm” she could look at him but she appeared unable to get any full sentences out. GP pulled her up by her arm and escorted her to Max’s drivers room, indicating to the driver that that was what he was doing.

“Shhh, shhh, you’re okay, breathe. Darling, it’s all okay. Max and everyone is okay. I’m sorry, the smoke must have been so scary.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine darling, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

[zahri-melitor]

This is just a random snippet that’s been rolling around my brain.

***

He hated fighting magic users.

As the explosion cleared, Dick looked around trying to get his bearings. The surroundings had shifted. Dirty snow lay on the ground. The everpresent glow that surrounded Gotham at night was oddly absent. The air tasted slightly of smoke. And the skyline…Dick knew that craggy, broken skyline.

No Man’s Land.

Beside him, Jason started muttering. “I hate dimensional travel.” Damian had drawn his sword and was gripping it the way he tended to for comfort. And Tim? Tim’s eyes were flickering from building to building, cataloguing everything, before catching on the spraypainted territory marks and sticking.

Get up and go, Nightwing, Dick told himself. This is a bad place to be. You need food, shelter, and a read on the exact territory rules right now. And you’re too far away from Leslie’s hospital to get in safely tonight.

“Robin.” They both looked at him. “Damian, watch the sightlines. Tim. I know you spent more time with Oracle working on the earlier maps than I did. Can you get a read on exactly when and where we are?” Tim nodded and headed straight for the graffiti, tilting his head to look at the obscured tags.

“It’s some post-apocalyptic Gotham universe, Nightwing,” said Jason grumpily. “What’s he going to be able to tell?”

Tim snorted and turned back to the group. “Upper East Side. Somewhere between about 130-150, but probably closer to 130 given the snow and the blood on the wall isn’t that old. Pretty near the Two-Face territory border too; we’d better keep an eye out for the Bat.”

Dick flicked back through memories he’d suppressed as no longer relevant, especially the early moves he’d not been present for. He wished for a second Barbara was here, then suppressed the thought guiltily. She’d be so much more across this.

“Mask?”

“We’re far enough east to be out of his territory right now but I wouldn’t want to risk it. And of course there’s the usual issue with Leslie.” Tim was stating the obvious, in his worry. Dick could feel how much he could no longer remember. It was too early in the period for proper stability, he’d spent most of his time based in the south near Blue Boys territory once he’d left Blackgate, and while he still remembered where all the satellite caves were, there was always the issue that Bruce would notice.

“Faith sector?”

“Probably our best bet tonight but I don’t like taking resources from them.” Tim’s forehead wrinkled. Dick didn’t like it either, but needs must. They could resupply from a cache.

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Jason was getting more aggravated.

“There’s movement on that broken roof,” muttered Damian, tilting his head to indicate which one.

“Shit.” Dick could see the flap of a black cape as well as the rest of them. There were two options right now and both of them were going to be a problem. “Hood, I’m going to need you to keep quiet. Little D, stick close to me. I’ll explain in a moment. Tim?” Tim looked Dick in the eye for a moment and nodded.

“Yeah, it’d better be me.” He cracked his neck, idly drew out his staff to use as a walking stick, and headed straight for the building.

“What is this?” Jason hissed. “Why are you two acting so weird. And…fuck is that Batgirl?” A familiar black shape had dropped from the roof to land in front of Tim, full face mask and all.

Dick sighed. “No. It isn’t. And please don’t call her that. Robin is about to have to talk very fast. This is almost certainly time travel, not dimensional travel. We’re in No Man’s Land.”

[btsqualityy]

BTS Dating Series #13: When You Join Him On Tour

Members x Reader

Genre/Rate: 18+, fluff

Summary: You finally reunite with your boyfriend. 

Warnings: None to note.

Author’s Note: Don’t mind me, just continuing my yearly tradition of posting something on my birthday! Hope you enjoy it!

Kim Seokjin

You walked through the terminal of the airport, murmuring soft apologizes as you attempted to make your way through the bustling crowd. With BTS’ tour stopping in Europe, you and Jin decided that this would be the best time for you to come out and visit him so that’s why you were fresh off of a flight to London.

As you began to make your way to baggage claim, you could vaguely make out the sound of what sounded like a man’s voice yelling loudly. You huffed to yourself, thinking about how embarrassed you’d be if someone were yelling your name like that in such a crowded place.

“Y/N-ah!” The voice screamed and you froze, able to recognize that voice any place and inwardly cringing. You looked around wildly until your eyes finally landed on your boyfriend, waving his arms in the air and jumping up and down as he was flanked by bodyguards and managers. 

“Jin!” You grinned, rushing over to him and jumping straight into his outstretched arms. Jin spun you around as you wrapped your legs around him, giggling loudly as he pressed multiple kisses to your cheek. 

“Ah, I’ve missed you so much jagi,” Jin sighed as he stopped spinning and set you back down on the ground, cupping your cheeks in both his hands. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you smiled. “But did you have to scream my name throughout the entire airport?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, as though it was obvious. “Had to welcome my girlfriend to London the right way.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“But you love me,” Jin smirked, making you roll your eyes playfully as he led you to baggage claim. 

Min Yoongi

“They should be getting ready to finish up with rehearsal so you can wait here if you want,” one of the group’s managers told you and you smiled as you bowed lightly in thanks. You had flown out to Chicago to see your man and Yoongi had no idea about it.

“I will because I want to surprise him,” you chuckled. “Thank you again for helping me arrange this too.”

“No problem,” the manager smiled before turning around and walking away. Just then, you heard Idol end and a flurry of the members’ voices as they thanked the staff before they began to exit the stage via a set of stairs near the back. Luckily, Yoongi was one of the first ones to come down so you waited until he had stepped down off of the stairs completely before you snuck up behind him.

“Guess who?” You called out, tapping on his shoulder and he turned around, the look of confusion on his face quickly morphing into one of surprise and happiness. 

“Y/N-ah!” Yoongi exclaimed, not hesitating to grab you and pull you into a bone crushing hug. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Came to see you and wanted it to be a surprise,” you chuckled as he pulled back from the hug to look at you. “Happy?”

“So fucking happy,” he confirmed before pressing his lips against yours firmly. The kiss quickly became heated, Yoongi’s hands roaming down to your hips while yours tangled in his hair. 

“Aw, here they go with this PDA shit again,” Jungkook groaned as he walked pass. 

“Hey, some of us don’t have our girlfriends here so be sympathetic, hyung,” Jimin joked. 

“Fuck off, both of you,” Yoongi said as he pulled away from your lips to shoot his members the middle finger, which only set off loud laughs from them as they walked away. You grabbed ahold of his chin then, turning his gaze back to you.

“Hey, a little more attention on your girlfriend that just flew thousands of miles to see you,” you joked. 

“Whatever you say,” Yoongi chuckled before kissing you deeply again. 

Kim Namjoon

“Hey, I’m almost to the hotel,” you texted Namjoon as the taxi you were sitting in took you towards the large hotel that the group was staying in. Fresh off your flight to Paris, you bit back a yawn as you watched the scenery out of the window until your phone buzzed with a new message.

“See you soon, baby,” the message from your boyfriend read and you couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on your face. Soon enough, the taxi pulled up to the hotel and it didn’t take long for you to hop out and grab your suitcase. After paying the driver, you made your way inside where one of the group’s security guards intercepted you and led you up to the floors that Bangtan had booked out. 

“Here we are,” the security guard said as the two of you stopped at one of the doors and you bowed to him in thanks before he walked away. Raising your hand up, you knocked on the door and a full two seconds didn’t even pass before the door flew open and revealed your dimple faced boyfriend. 

“Y/N-ah,” Namjoon breathed out.

“Joon,” you whispered, waiting a few seconds before flying forward and throwing your arms around him. He chuckled deeply, pressing his nose into the side of your head as he squeezed you tightly against him. 

“Shit, I missed you,” he confessed.

“I missed you too,” you replied. Loosening his grip some, you were able to look up at him and you instantly became worried when you saw the dark bags underneath his eyes. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Not much, no,” he admitted. “Seems like I never have time to, you know?”

“I’m taking care of you now that I’m here and I don’t want to hear any arguing,” you stated firmly, letting go of him to grab your bag before shutting the room door. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Namjoon smiled, allowing you to grab his hand and lead him over to the bed. 

Jung Hoseok

“Ah, I can’t believe we’re in Berlin,” Hobi’s sister Jiwoo exclaimed as the two of you got out of the car behind the Mercedes-Benz Arena, where Bangtan had a show scheduled. 

“Thanks for flying out with me, Jiwoo,” you said as two of the group’s managers led you backstage to the dressing room area. “I would’ve been bored out of my mind being by myself.”

“No problem. Plus, I wanted to see my brother and my parents want me to report back to them on if he’s eating enough or not,” Jiwoo laughed, making you do the same. Once you all made it to the door that was labeled “authorized personnel ONLY beyond this point”, one of the managers pushed it open and allowed you and Jiwoo to step inside. You instantly were hit with the loudness of the member’s antics, and you couldn’t help but to smile when you rounded a corner and saw Hobi dancing silly with Jimin. 

“Hey hey,” you called out and Hobi instantly turned around, grinning widely when he saw you and his sister. 

“Y/N-ah!” He cheered as he ran over and scooped you up into a big hug. You gasped in shock, giggling when you tried to get him to loosen his grip but he refused to budge. “God, I missed you!”

“I missed you too but please put me down,” you huffed, smiling when he finally set you down and once he did, you cupped his face in your hands and laid a firm kiss onto his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied. 

“Oh yeah, ignore your only sister,” Jiwoo spoke up and Hobi looked over at her, his ears going red at being called out. 

“Hi Noona,” he smiled before leaning over and hugging her. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, I understand,” she assured him before moving over to the other members to speak to them. 

“10 minutes!” One of the managers called out and you looked at Hobi with a smile. 

“You better give a good show tonight,” you told him. “I didn’t fly all this way for nothing, you know?”

“Oh trust me, I will,” Hobi assured you before pressing another kiss to your lips. 

Park Jimin

You quietly stepped into the studio room where Jimin and P-Dogg where working on recording together. It had been a long flight from Seoul to Los Angles but when one of the group’s managers told you that Jimin was at a studio near the hotel, you couldn’t help but show up there to surprise him. 

“Hey hey,” P-Dogg chuckled upon seeing you and you stepped over to him, bending down and hugging him. “Jimin didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“That’s because he doesn’t know,” you giggled. “It’s a surprise so I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Not at all,” he assured you before leaning over and pressing a button on the switchboard. “Jimin-ssi, look who’s here.” Jimin looked over from the notepad that he had been so intently focused on and you could see how much his eyes widened from seeing you. He yanked the headphones off of his ears and threw the pad down before rushing out of the studio, only to fall down as he rushed to open the door. 

“Jimin-ssi!” You gasped, giggling right after when he hopped up and ran over to hug you. “Are you ok?”

“Much better now that you’re here,” he chuckled before kissing you passionately. You returned the kiss with just as much fervor, neither of you noticing when P-Dogg silently slipped out of the room and shut the door behind him. 

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” Jimin murmured as he trailed his kisses away from his lips and down to your neck. 

“Mmm, I missed you too,” you sighed in pleasure, a moaning slipping through your lips and making your eyes widen. “Wait, wait, we can’t! Not here!”

“The company booked out the entire building because hyungs are working on some solo stuff in other studios,” Jimin muttered deeply as his hands began to roam on your waist and ass. “I can lock the door and we’ll be all alone.”

“A-are you sure?” You questioned, your resolve slipping quickly. 

“More than,” he promised as he pulled his face out of your neck. “Trust me?”

“More than anything,” you smiled, making him smile as well before he kissed you passionately. 

Kim Taehyung

Fresh off of your flight, you slowly followed one of the group’s bodyguards into a lavishly decorated room in the hotel where the group was doing a photoshoot. With them having three shows in Osaka, you decided to go see Taehyung there since it wasn’t a bad flight from Seoul. 

“Alright, a few more shots,” the photographer said as his camera went off four more times. “And there we are! Thank you guys.”

“Thank you,” the members all said politely, bowing in respect before they began to filter off of the set. You waved towards Taehyung and you wished you had a camera to capture how his face lit up at the sight of you. 

“Y/N-ah!” He cheered, rushing over to you and not even allowing you to greet him before he kissed you passionately. Although you were taken by surprise, you allowed yourself to sink into the feeling of your boyfriend’s lips on yours since it had been far too long since you last felt them. It wasn’t until Taehyung slipped his tongue into your mouth that you finally pulled away.

“Don’t you think that’s a little too extra of a hello?” You wondered with a giggle. “And with all these people around?”

“I don’t care,” Taehyung shrugged flippantly. “I missed you and I’ll scream it from the rooftops if I have to.”

“That’s not necessary,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just say it to me and I’ll be more than happy.”

“I missed you,” he whispered. “So much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied before kissing him again. 

Jeon Jungkook

“Fucking finally,” you huffed as you sat down in a chair on the side of the stage. You had been so excited to fly out to New York to watch your boyfriend and the group’s show but you hadn’t expected to be hit with delayed flight after delayed flight. By the time you made it to the concert venue, half of the show had already passed by.

Deciding to set the stressful day you’d had aside, you were able to enjoy the rest of the concert and marvel at how amazing your boyfriend was. When the group finished their encore stage and walked off the stage, you were quick to run up to Jungkook and jump into his arms. 

“Ah, you did so good!” You squealed and Jungkook laughed as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed hard. 

“Thank you,” he smiled as you pulled back to look down at him. “You ok? I know you had a hard time today.”

“Forget it,” you said instantly as you waved your hand. “I’m just happy to see you.”

“Me too,” Jungkook nodded before kissing you firmly. 

“Hey, cut that shit out,” Yoongi spoke up, making the two of you break apart from each other. “People can see you, you know?”

“Jealous, Suga hyung?” Jungkook smirked as you laid your cheek against the top of Jungkook’s head.

“Nope, I just don’t wanna hear Jimin’s mouth about you not being ready to leave by the time he is,” Yoongi shrugged and just then, Jimin’s shrill voice rang out backstage.

“Jungkook, let’s go!!” He screamed, making everyone laugh loudly. 

.......................................................

Tag List:  @addictedtohobi @brittneymccray @cursedcursives @arata18nanami @leftieaquarius @devilsbooksworld @starmyy @werewolfbanshee-love @li-moonchild-il @kpop-servant @cheysjimin

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 9: No hour is ever eternity, but it has its right to weep.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion and Ban host her parents for dinner.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art from @emy-san

“My mother will pry into everything,” Ban mumbled quietly, “including why we haven’t had any children yet. My father will probably ask about our assets - income, investments, connections, all that drivel.” She wasn’t looking forward to seeing them at all, tonight looming large in her mind, but she knew this would be it - one last time, for closure, and then never again.

They were roaming the grounds; Ban needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the palace as the staff readied it for guests. It was nowhere near as involved as even their smallest ball - a very small soirée, by comparison; she wasn’t sure if it could even be considered a soirée with only five people in attendance. Regardless, it didn’t require much in the way of preparation, and she knew their staff were capable and well practiced. This was the most nervous she’d been for any event they’d held, however, quadruple-checking every single thing until Astarion had finally dragged her out.

“Gods. Don’t they sound delightful,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Connections? Is it not enough to have the artisan guilds, including his own, in our pocket? Under our very roof?” He paused, rubbing his chin. “On second thought, Roderich would not necessarily be aware of that. He seemed to have rather woefully failed to keep abreast of current events.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The shop.” He looked at her, thoughtful. “It was worn, dusty and quite unlike how I’d expect someone of his proclivities to treat their ‘pride and joy’.”

This much was true. She’d seen the dilapidated exterior, the dinginess inside, neither of which would’ve been tolerated before she’d left.

“And what of your brother? Any snide remarks I should expect from him?” Astarion huffed a little, glancing up at the sky; it looked rather dull for midday, an unfortunate sign of possible rain.

“He’s likely to hate me for leaving the family,” Ban remarked, “more accurately, he’ll be jealous that I left and he didn’t, but you won’t hear him say that in front of Roderich and Arlette. He’s never had the strength to defy them.”

There would be little snark from her brother; he’d always been the least horrible member of their family. Adrien, her parents’ favorite, who could do no wrong, who was fated for more, to inherit and marry and pass down the most esteemed Glasscraft name. But he’d also been her only friend in the family, the only one compassionate enough to help her treat her wounds, to comfort her, whenever her father was done with whatever method of punishment he’d chosen that day. She wished he could have done more, could have stood up to their parents alongside her, but that was where their paths had diverged.

Astarion snorted. “I will do my utmost to be the picture-perfect rich, powerful, aristocratic husband they so desired you to have. However, if my patience fails me, and their necks come a little too close…”

“Try not to, will you?” Ban said, a sigh escaping her lips. “Be good - for me. I just need tonight to go well and then… with any luck we’ll never have to see them ever again.”

“Seeing as I’m the one who instigated all this in the first place…” Astarion exhaled, “I’m inclined to let you have it your way.” He held his hands up, playful. “No biting, I promise. Well, maybe a little, but…”

“Fangs to yourself, handsome.”

A dramatic, long-suffering sigh preceded the playful smirk on his face. “Of course, love.”

Ban couldn’t help the small smile that crept up at the sight of that. “Look. We cleared today for this. No meetings with the patriars, no haggling with Nine-Fingers - wouldn’t you consider that a win?”

“It would be, were I able to…” His hands rose, resting on either side of her waist, pulling her close for a quick, heated kiss. “… do certain things; alas we both know you are too preoccupied.” When they separated his eyes were tender, but the heat in them was unmistakable.

“Astarion,” she began, a little guiltily, “I’m sorry. My mind just isn’t on-”

“But of course! Besides, the staff are still at work. They’ve insisted on cleaning every room - there’s little privacy to be had today.” A mock sigh, and he let her go.

“And whose fault is that? I seem to remember it being your idea to host them.”

He snorted, but didn’t deign to answer.

“It’ll rain soon,” Astarion mused awhile later, glancing up at the sky again. “We ought to head inside. I’m aware it’s not the most comfortable place for you to be right now, but…” he shrugged. They were both dressed comfortably, but he’d very much rather not get his new loafers dirty on rain-wet soil.

She faced him, dark circles under her eyes prominent in the dull sunlight, nodding. “I mean, of course. I can get back to work with the caterers, pick out plating for tonight and the table napkins and-”

“Ban,” He tangled his fingers in hers, leading her back into the house. “A suggestion from your husband, if you’ll indulge me. Let’s head to bed - I can hold you, knead out all those knots in your back - nothing more, of course.” It would be good for her to unwind, he knew; the looming dinner had caused her no small amount of stress. She’d barely slept in days.

She followed him to their bedroom and Astarion sat on the bed, toeing off his shoes, patting the spot beside him. The moment she was there he pushed away her ponytail, pressing a kiss to her neck, wrapping an arm around her. He laid down, pulling her down with him.

He purposefully shifted his tone lower, softer, seeking to soothe. “You’re alright; it will all be fine, and if it isn’t, say the word and I will make it fine. I’ve got you.”

She was silent for a few moments, then leaned on him, her head tucked in his warm neck, nuzzling between jaw and collarbone. She mumbled something against his skin; it was spoken so softly that it took him a few moments to completely understand it.

“It’s not just that I didn’t trust you,” she said.

His hand paused and he peered down at her. “Are you saying there’s more you’ve yet to tell me, or…”

She shook her head. “What I’ve said is about the sum of it. There were specific instances, of course, which I will tell you when we have time, but what I mean is… not telling you wasn’t only because of our issues.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m surprised,” Astarion mused; Ban’s eyes snapped up to his, evidently not expecting this response. He huffed out a sad laugh. “Love. I ate whatever little pride I had left to tell you all of what I am, where I came from. What I went through.” He saw shame in her eyes and aimed to soothe. “No need to be ashamed, love. It merely slipped your mind.”

“It shouldn’t have,” she countered, “I should have known; of course you’d understand. But it isn’t the only thing, or even the main thing. I…” she hesitated a moment, then continued. “I did not relish you knowing I’m weak. That I could, and did, allow those things to happen to me. That I gave in and let it happen, when I’d always been the one to help you, the one helping everyone. I want to be your rock, not your burden.”

A soft kiss was pressed to her forehead; Astarion huffed out a small, exasperated laugh. “I don’t think myself capable of seeing you or loving you any less, no matter the circumstances, and neither is your strength the reason for that love.” He turned somber, holding her tighter, as if doing so would fully convey the depth of his affection. “Grant me the privilege of being where your heart finds peace, Ban. I would love nothing more.”

Tears filled her eyes and she gave him a small nod. “That I can do. Will do.” She looked away, huddling against his chest. “But then… they made me what I am, for better or for worse. Talking about it also feels like acknowledging they did do something right, at some point.”

“No.” That he wouldn’t abide. He placed an elegant finger under her chin, tilting it so she’d meet his eyes again. “Do not ever say that, because it isn’t true, and by no means will it ever be.”

“But they-”

“They what? Shaped you? You are you in spite of what they’ve done to you, not because of it.” His voice had risen, insistent on driving the thought away from her mind. He saw her open her mouth, about to argue, and he immediately interrupted her again.

“Before you say anything else, do you think what Cazador did made me who I am?”

“In some ways,” Ban said, and he found a measure of joy in the fact that she did so seemingly without fear of his anger.

Astarion nodded. “I don’t disagree. But I am also more than that - more than what he made me. And so are you. You, Ban…” He took a breath, trying to find the words to fully express himself and falling utterly short.

“You are strong. You are kind, compassionate. You tried, when trying was only for the foolish and the brave. You gave me a chance. You loved me when that was - and is - an objectively stupid thing to do. You held onto yourself and onto me when I was unable to, chose our love and-”

He heard her whimper as she hid herself against his chest yet again. He gently rocked her, wanting nothing more than to hold her close and shield her from everything. Her trust was intoxicating, so new and yet so achingly familiar; a haunting reminder of what he had almost lost forever. She kept her head tucked against his heart, her breathing slowly matching his as she melted against his body.

“Are you listening?” he asked, and at her nod he made it a point to take slower breaths, slowing his pulse down so that it soothed her further. He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Only for you,” he reminded her, staring up at the ceiling.

There wasn’t any reply, but there needn’t be. The silence stretched, and Astarion closed his eyes.

“This is really nice,” Ban eventually murmured, her eyes half-closed. It occurred to Astarion that she was utterly exhausted; the fact that she hadn’t complained about them wearing their clothes to bed should have clued him in immediately. He decided not to remind her about the massage and stayed mostly unmoving, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He considered speaking, to say candy-sweet words, but he knew they were unnecessary; they’d long moved past those early days, when his voice was all he could offer her. Instead he closed his own eyes, fingers idly tracing patterns on her head.

Sleep, love.

When she finally stirred, Astarion was still in trance. Soft, light snores wafted down to her from somewhere above her head. Ban gingerly moved his hand from her head, then carefully sat up. The sun told her it was almost sunset. A small wince crossed her features at the realization; she was a little surprised the noise of the preparations hadn’t interrupted their rest. They’d have to prepare themselves soon, but she didn’t want to wake him just yet, figuring she could bathe before he awakened.

She turned to him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed - unneeded, but habitual, comforting. His hand closed, then opened again, as if searching for something; his eyes moved beneath closed lids. Dreaming. She planted a soft kiss against his brow, received a soft mm of contentment in reply, then left the bed, steps as silent as possible so as not to disturb him.

The bath was warm and fragrant and Ban sank into it, eyes closing despite her rising anxiety. Seeing her father was one thing, but her mother was different; there was little doubt she would pry into every aspect of their lives and ask Ban about everything that had transpired since the last time they’d seen her. She wondered what they’d heard of the group who’d fought the Netherbrain, but her parents rarely bothered with events that did not concern the business, and the fight had left the area around the shop mostly unscathed. It was unlikely they knew anything more than what the broadsheets had reported in the days after the city was saved.

Then there were also Astarion’s remarks about Roderich, and the state of the shop. What could have caused her father to let it fall into such disrepair?

“Love.”

Her eyes flew open to see Astarion standing by the tub, nude, a small smile ghosting across his lips. He stepped over the rim of the tub to sink into the water opposite her. The moment he was in he reached for the scented soap and the sponge. “You didn’t wake me,” he complained impishly, working the soap into a lather and starting to scrub himself. “Worse, I wasn’t invited to this bath. I’m hurt.”

She sighed. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and I figured you’d need the rest.”

A wry chuckle answered her as he took her arm, bathing her as well. “I’m not the one waking up in the middle of the night.” He didn’t shy from her sharp glare, meeting it head-on. “And what of it? You can’t sleep. You think of them and dream of them - I can hear it.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Ban.”

Astarion paused his ministrations, the sponge stilling against her collarbone. “You have to let me in,” he finally said, the sponge pressed down against her as the hand emphasized his point. “You are trying and making great strides, but you have to realize this isn���t… embarrassing, or weak. And even if it is, what of it?”

“I don’t think it’s…” she began, the lie forming automatically; Astarion merely fixed her with a pointed look and she sighed.

“I suppose you’re right.” She shrugged. “I understand what you’ve said, but it isn’t that easy to overcome years of thinking that way. My mother prided herself on being a strong, stoic woman. She insisted that being emotional, needing comfort was… frivolous, unneeded, and for the weak; that she did not need anyone else other than herself.”

“An obvious lie, considering she wasn’t even strong enough to stand up for her own children.” The sponge resumed its path, scrubbing Ban’s chest and neck, traveling to the other arm.

She scooted closer, allowing him better reach. “She thought the strong thing to do was to let her husband do what he pleased, to require nothing of him.” She paused briefly to rinse off some of the soap. “They were betrothed at a young age, as is the custom. She loved him, at least at first. He… saw her as a broodmare, to birth his heirs. They had trouble getting pregnant, and she prayed to all the gods for a child, to give him what he so wished for. To give him what he’d begun looking for outside the marriage; without her permission, of course.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Pathetic,” he sneered, gesturing for Ban to turn around so he could scrub her back, “to step outside the marriage for heirs is one of the oldest and least imaginative excuses I could think of.”

“I doubt he cared.” The feel of the sponge against her skin, of Astarion’s hand grasping her shoulder, was soothing. Facing away from him provided her with a little more privacy, allowing her more ease in opening up. “My mother knew, much as he tried to hide it, yet she wouldn’t leave because she thought herself stronger than that. Because that’s what good wives do - listen to their husbands and give them children.”

Astarion’s hand stilled yet again and she heard a pinched, aborted grunt. “Again. Like I did you,” he said, tone acerbic. “And you stayed, like your mother did.”

“I left,” Ban reminded, and to her surprise she heard a relieved exhale.

“I am ever so glad you did, Ban,” he murmured.

Her head whipped around to look at him. Her hair splattered water everywhere, Astarion blinked away the droplets that landed on his eyelashes. He draped her hair over her shoulder to continue soaping the smooth expanse of her back, meeting her gaze.

“You thought I was incapable of reflection?” he teased, “Had you not left, we wouldn’t be here, I think.” The silence stretched as he continued working down her back. “I needed that push, and push you did. I can only be grateful.”

“I thought I broke your heart.”

He finished scrubbing and she leaned against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, fingers interlacing on her belly. He exhaled, thinking, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I prefer to think I broke my own heart.” Astarion wondered if he should say more, if more apologies would be required; loath as he was to do it, he would willingly prostrate himself before her if she required it.

“That time, perhaps; however I do feel like I’ve been breaking it again recently,” she admitted.

Astarion stiffened, realizing what she meant. “You have. You give a little, luring me in with a baited hook, and when I’ve bitten, you simply…” Dexterous fingers moved, miming a yanking motion, inspecting a fish, and discarding it. “...pull me in, only to push me away the moment I do something unpleasant or something that reminds you of Roderich or of my past behavior.” It’s not fair, he thought.

“I punish and reward, is what you’re saying,” she clarified, looking up at him. He could see guilt swimming in those eyes.

“Yes and no - I can appreciate that a lot of it comes from your family, and some of it comes from me,” Astarion began; he could feel her tensing and his hands slid to her shoulders to massage them. “However at times you make me feel like your feelings for me are contingent on how well I behave, and it’s…”

…just like Cazador. A comparison that he was loath to make, but one that was true nevertheless. He recognized the way her wavering affection made him feel - the shame, the fear, the pain - and he couldn’t continue shying away from it. Acknowledging it himself, however, was nowhere near the same as articulating it to her, and the idea of doing so filled him with dread.

He searched instead for the right word, and settled on “...painful.”

“I know you need time, and you deserve time,” Astarion finally said, “But please don’t withhold affection from me. Don’t leave me out in the cold, with silence my only company.”

Gods. She rubbed her face, frustrated. Of course she’d been hurting him; in her focus on not risking herself again she’d been too unwilling to trust his progress, too cautious - to the extent that he thought her love conditional.

“I’m so sorry,” Ban choked out, fighting back tears, “I’ve been doing to you what my parents did to me. I know. I… I’ll do better, I swear. This isn’t an excuse, love, but it’s hard; after having all this drilled in by them, and then… well, shielding myself from you - it’s not easy to unlearn.”

“Don’t you think that I, of all people, would know that, my love?” Astarion sighed, but he was mostly filled with relief and elation. That she acknowledged it, recognized it for what it was - unkind, unfair - and swore to change… it was enough for now, especially in light of the past tenday.

“Apology accepted,” he allowed, adding a little pompousness to color his voice, hoping it would lighten the mood, “I’m nothing if not gracious, after all.” But he also reached to her with his mind, suffusing her with his feelings - his gratitude, acceptance, and understanding.

She laughed a little; it came out broken, an odd mix of sadness and relief. “Too gracious,” she choked out.

“No such thing,” came his answer, quick and reassuring. “Just as you’ve forgiven me, so have I you. There’s little need to measure who did what, as long as we both…” he gestured, unsure of the specific verbiage he needed, “as long as we’re both happy, I suppose.”

She couldn’t contest that, turning to kiss a trail from his jawbone down his neck. Her lips ghosted over the old bite marks, setting off a wave of pleasant shivers throughout his body.

“Then we are in agreement?” he asked, simply to ensure the air was clear.

Ban made a small mhm of assent but didn’t say more. He was relieved, but found himself wanting to introduce more levity. He shifted, untangling his fingers to playfully cup a breast. “Much as forgiveness has been dispensed, darling, my heart still feels broken,” he drawled, “A kiss would be most welcome in soothing it.”

“You’re sure you only want a kiss?” she said, and he huffed out a small laugh.

“Most definitely not. Still, a kiss would be very welcome.” He played with her breast, pinching the nipple between index finger and thumb. Scooting back, she pressed against his cock. He bit his lip, appreciating her teasing, but forced his hips to keep still.

Tilting her head back, Astarion met her lips with his own, a soft caress without urgency. He nibbled at her lower lip, eliciting a quiet moan. Hands reached for his head, grasping still-dry curls to pull him closer. He allowed it, but he felt her fingers begin to move towards his ear; he quickly pulled her hand away.

“There isn’t enough time, you’re preoccupied, and as much as I’d like to take the edge off,” he scolded, “there are far more pressing matters we ought to attend to. I would prefer to make love when you’re wholly here, and not plagued by the spectre of your family.”

“So you’re saying you’re not hard right now? What do I feel back there, then?” she teased, hand sinking beneath the water.

Astarion tried to snatch the hand before it reached him, but she wasn’t really making a play for his cock; he was easily able to wrap his fingers around her wrist. He brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss before sinking his fangs in, drinking languidly.

“That’s for being a tease and for being too godsdamned attractive for your own good,” he murmured, licking the last rivulets of blood before they fell.

Ban laughed, rolling her hips back, rubbing against him lightly. “You are hard.”

“Painfully so,” came the reply, huffed in exasperation.

“I doubt drinking helped you any,” she added, very much amused.

He groaned as she rubbed her ass on him again. “No,” he admitted, “but I needed something.” Astarion was mere seconds away from lifting her and sitting her on his cock, but she thankfully - regretfully, if he was being honest - pulled away.

He grumbled, glaring at her; he felt around the tub for the sponge he’d dropped when he’d reached for her hand. Instead he found a muscled thigh and pinched, just enough to elicit a yelp and a little jump; she splashed his face.

“Ass!”

Astarion chuckled, “And yet you love me.” He’d never said it with such lightness of heart, he thought; it was far too fraught, too sensitive a topic for him until recently. There was a certainty there now, of her love for him, that he was grateful for. However he couldn’t fully suppress the lingering question, the question that plagued him even in these calm, happy moments:

Will she ever love me as deeply and completely as I do her?

A question that shouldn’t haunt him; there was no tangible way to measure love, after all. To attempt to do so would likely only end in heartache, but he couldn’t seem to prevent it from cropping up each time.

His silence as he contemplated this train of thought did not go unnoticed.

“Astarion?”

Her hand touched his cheek, and he blinked twice as he refocused on her. She’d turned to face him while he was lost in his reverie. He saw concern writ large on her features.

“I didn’t mean to taunt you; I wasn’t actually going to grab you, if that’s…” she trailed off, “I’m sorry.”

Realization dawned on him and he vehemently shook his head. “Ban, no. It was perfectly fine; welcomed, even. I was merely lost in some tangent of thought - one of little import.”

True - not the whole of it, but now was not the right time for it.

“Then do you want to…?” Ban ventured; he quickly shook his head.

“Tempting, as you always are, but no. I’d rather focus on tonight’s events; there’s little doubt that it will be complicated, at the very least. You will need all your energy for it.”

Ban nodded. “A very good point.” She turned to face away again, leaning forwards in a silent request; Astarion wistfully raked his eyes over her back before he began to soap it again.

Astarion watched Ban fidget in front of him, tugging at the skirt of her dress.

“This does fit well, right?” Her voice was tentative, anxious as she spun around for his assessment. He’d been her mirror since she’d lost the ability to see her reflection. Sometimes he helped her see herself with the mental link, but right now he merely pursed his lips and rubbed at his chin.

“I think it fits perfectly,” he managed to say. The way it clung to her ass was delightfully distracting and he considered saying so, but he could tell she was nervous. Instead he walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to still her movements. “You look beautiful; you always do, but especially so tonight.”

“Thank you, but are you sure the hem’s not too short? Fath- I mean, Roderich would no doubt comment on it, he would complain and say ‘have you no modesty?’ and-”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder and placed himself in front of her. “Look at me. It doesn’t matter what he thinks; if he so much as utters one word that offends you - that even irritates you - you merely have to say the word and he’s out.” His throat tightened as he spoke. How much had Roderich hurt her, in the small span of years a human child had, for her to be such a stuttering mess right now?

Ban took a few gulping breaths, nodding at him. “Yes, of course. You… thank you.” Another sharp breath took her and she rushed him, burying her face against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly, rocking her gently in his embrace.

“I shall go ahead to greet them,” he offered, “You can meet us in the dining room whenever you wish.” He slowly began to pull away, but she gripped the lapels of his suit coat.

“Stay with me,” she begged, unwilling to lift her head from where it was pressed against him. “Please. A little longer.”

Wordlessly he nodded, enveloping her in his arms yet again.

He could only hope it helped.

Astarion lounged on the throne as he waited. He heard the front doors opening, the thump of footsteps, the muffled voice of their chamberlain wafting through to him. He stayed in place, watching as the ballroom doors opened and figures began to enter. He’d carefully arranged himself, legs crossed and head resting on his hand, the picture of insolence and lordly power, exuding what he hoped was an aura of indifference.

He let them approach, making no move to rise or greet them; he counted four - no, three - figures. Their chamberlain, Roderich, and a woman.

Where’s the brother?

“My lord,” the chamberlain began, “Master Glasscraft and his missus are here.” Astarion didn’t deign to rise, eyes raking coldly over Ban’s mother. He could sense her deference to her husband; she hadn’t even looked up yet. A short, plump woman, she all but hid behind Roderich as the man prepared to greet Astarion.

Roderich cleared his throat and at that, Arlette’s eyes rose, raking over Astarion, traveling from the top of his curls to the bottom of his shoes. Her eyes widened and her lips parted a fraction of an inch. He knew that look all too well, remembered seeing it on countless faces, every single time Cazador loaned him out. It made his lip curl in disgust.

“Lord Ancunín,” Roderich began, hesitating for a moment. “Astarion.” The Glasscrafts bowed, obviously rather nervous and unsure.

Astarion fought the urge to snap; that he dared address him so informally without permission rankled. He let it pass, however, sitting up, elbows on his knees. “Roderich,” he nodded. He then turned to Arlette, and also gave her a small nod. “You must be Arlette. Ban has told me so much about you both.”

He finally stood, hands casually smoothening his trousers as he did, relishing the look of discomfort on their faces at his words. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he still towered over the pair, something he found immensely satisfying. “Pleased to have you here. How did you find the grounds, Arlette?”

She tittered. “It’s nice, I suppose. Roses were never something I desired for our garden; they’re thorny.”

“They require care and loving attention. Not things everyone is capable of giving.”

Satisfied with the raised eyebrows his comment caused, he decided to take them to the dining room; at least then he could have some wine to take the edge off their blathering. He descended the dais, gesturing for them to follow him. Before he could summon the chamberlain, however, Ban’s mother decided to get started on her prying.

“If you don’t mind me asking - how long have you and Ban been together?” Arlette’s voice made him turn and he crossed his arms, considering the question.

“A year and a half, if not slightly more,” he answered, mind flicking back to the day they first met. He noticed her frown; she opened her mouth as if to ask something more, but her husband gave her a curt shake of the head, ending her interrogation.

Interesting, Astarion thought to himself. He waved a hand at the chamberlain. “Please tell my wife that her family has arrived. She is free to join us at her leisure.” As he did, he led Ban’s parents out of the ballroom.

Roderich cleared his throat. “Astarion-” he began, wincing when Astarion fixed him with a glare over his shoulder. “You would really let Ban… your wife… hole up in her room while you have guests?”

The moment the words were out, Astarion rounded on him, rage written all over his face. His crimson eyes glittered dangerously, lip curling in a sneer. “I do not presume to tell Ban what to do, Roderich. Do you truly have the gall to attempt to command my wife under our roof?”

The smaller man spluttered, a sound Astarion relished. “I- my lord- I do not! I merely say it as fatherly advice. Ban is-”

“Is what?” he interjected, crossing his arms. He saw Arlette open her mouth as if to speak, but she first looked to her husband for permission. As Roderich nodded, she began.

“My lord, forgive me. In fact, may I call you Astarion? You are, after all, my daughter’s… husband… although I notice you do not wear rings.” Arlette straightened up, bracing herself. “What Roderich means to say is that our daughter can be willful. She is prone to behaviors that are unbecoming of a wife, behaviors especially unbecoming of her stature as your spouse, of a lady.”

“Unbecoming-” Astarion bit back the curse forming on his lips, scoffing instead. “For one, no. I am to be addressed as Lord Ancunín, not Astarion. If I hear that one more time from either of your lips’…” The pair before him recoiled, his words obviously effective.

He let the threat hang, satisfied at their reaction, and pushed on. “Ban is willful. She does things that are unbecoming of your idea of a lady, yes.” Those were in fact the things that made him love her so, but he considered that truth something Roderich and Arlette did not deserve to know. “Those are the things that make her her, and you will not disparage my wife in front of me. Is that understood?”

Small, hurried murmurs of assent answered him. Satisfied, he turned away from them. “Let’s head to the dining room before we all reconsider this reunion, shall we?”

The doors were held open for Ban as she entered the dining room. She did not see Adrien, only Roderich and Arlette, seated in stony, awkward silence across from Astarion. She noticed her mother’s eyes, the way they drifted down to her belly, as expected. Sorry mother, no grandchildren here. She quickly scanned the rest of the room - there was no sign of her brother - then landed on her husband. His hands were steepled beneath his chin, but he placed them flat on the table as he turned to her. His eyes flicked to her and for a moment she saw the steely anger in them, but it quickly melted into tenderness. He rose, crossing the room to take her hand and press a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, low enough that her parents did not hear. He kept her hand in his as he led her to her seat, only releasing her to pull her chair out. As she sat, so too did he, shooting one last warning glare at Roderich and Arlette before he waved a servant over to request dinner be served.

Ban looked Astarion over, noting the furrowed brows and tense shoulders, feeling a surge of relief that he was here. She reached out, snaking her hand around his, holding it in a tight grip. He made no outward sign he’d registered her touch, but his hand squeezed hers back. Satisfied, she turned to her parents.

Arlette was the first to speak, evidently unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. “Ban!” she exclaimed, “I know the last time we saw each other wasn’t… the best, but your father and I are so glad to see you again. You seem to have done well enough, haven’t you?” she asked, shooting Astarion an appreciative glance, “And I’m very proud. We taught you everything you needed to know, and look how far you’ve gone!”

Ban sighed. “I… I have done well for myself.”

She glanced over at her husband and saw his face harden further. Concerned, she reached into his mind. Not yet, love. I need to talk to them. He visibly swallowed down his pique, jaw reluctantly unclenching.

That they’re alive at all, Ban, is merely because you wish it.

She couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped her. Keeping their bond open, she continued addressing her mother. “Done well, but not because of you, or what you two have taught me. Where’s Adrien?”

Arlette took this in stride, smiling to reveal crooked, yellowing teeth that still occasionally haunted Ban’s nightmares. “We shouldn’t argue about that. Have you forgotten? It’s uncouth to be arguing at the table.” She paused, and her gaze slipped away from Ban, settling on the empty plate before her. “Your brother had a prior commitment, and we thought it rude to ask your husband to postpone.”

Ban watched her mother rake her eyes over her belly yet again. “Any plans for children, Ban? You’re not getting any younger. I’m sure your husband wants an heir,” Arlette pressed.

She opened her mouth to retort, but her father interjected. “A little darling boy, Ban, would be a wonderful gift. For you two, and for us as well. He would be a treasure to us all.” He nodded at Arlette.

Ban sighed. “Do you harass Adrien for grandchildren as well, or is this reserved solely for your female child…?”

“Besides,” Astarion chimed in, a devilish grin on his face, “I must confess we have been trying as often and as enthusiastically as possible, but alas…”

Before he could continue, the servant returned with soup, halting any further prying for a few moments. Astarion automatically opened his mind further, sharing his sense of taste with her.

As they began to eat, Roderich spoke up. “As your mother mentioned little beauty, it is indeed uncouth to argue, or discuss such… marital activities, at the table, just as it is uncouth to leave your guests waiting.”

Ban could feel Astarion bristle, a vision flitting to her unwittingly: fangs, glittering in the light of the chandelier, sinking into that repulsive neck so that he’d never call her that again.

“It’s also uncouth to beat your children, as I understand it,” she snipped, and was rewarded by the blush that crept up her father’s face. Astarion barked out a laugh beside her but said nothing, his thoughts conveying amusement and warm affection.

“That, I did for your wellbeing,” Roderich protested, although his voice was weak. “So you’d end up somewhere in life. Successful. As you indeed became.” Ban saw her mother nod vehemently at these words.

Astarion could no longer help himself. “She is not successful because of your frankly atrocious parenting, she is successful in spite of you,” he growled, “And did I not warn you not to disparage my wife?”

Ban saw his lip curling again and hurried to interject before fangs were bared. To Astarion she sent a small plea, asking him to wait and let her get what she needed before he did anything rash. He blinked at her, the curled lip trembling in fury before it lowered.

“Be glad she bids me to be merciful and stay my hand,” he drawled, turning to them, “Else you would be in far more unpleasant circumstances than this.”

Ban cleared her throat. “Mother. Father. It… doesn’t matter what you think. What you did to me and Adrien is unforgivable, and if you think this success was because of you, you’re wrong.”

“How could it not be?” Arlette interjected. “You married someone so attractive. Someone rich. Someone powerful. All these things I taught you how to navigate. How to be a good wife. A good woman. How to know your place, to be strong and to honor your husband. Don’t you see? You married a hero, from wh-”

Her words died off as Astarion slammed a fist down onto the table, absolutely livid. “A hero?”

Roderich attempted to explain, “We asked around, my lord. We heard of your rise to power, of your efforts in saving the city from the Netherbrain.”

“Me. You think I’m the hero of Baldur’s Gate?” Astarion laughed, a deep, full laugh filled with levity - but also incredulity. Ban sampled the flavor of his emotions as they flooded through their connection; there was genuine amusement, but there were also much heavier emotions - his profound admiration for her, and his love. More than anything else, that.

It took him a long moment to recover, his features shifting from mirth to a deep, seething rage. He stood, hands gripping the edge of the table, leering at them. “Ban is the hero of Baldur’s Gate. She was the best of us - and nowhere were any of those insipid ‘lessons’ you subjected her to of any use. She picked us up, one by one, led us through the wilderness, all the way to the city. She burdened herself with every decision and every sacrifice that had to be made. She helped each and every one of us wretched fools,” he growled, his hands tightening on the table until it creaked, “and somehow still managed to save your sorry hides along with everyone else in this godsforsaken city.” He glanced at her, his expression softened briefly, the last part of his tirade saved for her and her alone.

You gave me everything, saved me from slavery and death alike. Loved me.

She offered him a soft smile before he turned back to Roderich and Arlette, the anger firmly back in his features. “You have pushed my patience far beyond the point I’d normally tolerate. The only thing keeping you alive is her - I strongly encourage you to quit while you’re ahead.”

This final warning, with Astarion looming angrily towards them, sufficed to convince the pair to back off. His tirade may have inadvertently revealed his fangs, Ban realized; she was tempted to ask him to back off again, worried.

The thought passed to him and he turned to her, wanting to tell her to let him handle it, when he realized. He leveled his gaze back onto her parents, brushing at his suit coat before sitting back down.

“What prior commitment was so important that Adrien would choose it over being reunited with his long-lost sister?” The cold tone had crept back into his voice, his wrath receding behind an icy veneer. Astarion fingered the stem of his wineglass, the other hand idly tapping the table. “Rather rude, when I invited everyone. Does he not miss his sister?”

That is what you wanted to know, is it not?

He’d read the thought as soon as it came into her mind. She’d felt Adrien would be guaranteed to show up; for one he would have wanted to see Ban. The other reason was purely pragmatic - Roderich would have wanted to introduce him to his powerful brother-in-law, establish connections early. His absence was perplexing.

“How is he, anyway?” Ban interjected before Astarion felt compelled to push further. Adrien was the only one she had a smidgen of concern about, the only one she thought she’d have an honest conversation with tonight; and yet he wasn’t here. Did he resent her? Had he run away, just as she had done?

She noticed Roderich’s jaw clench at the mention of her brother. Curious.

“Adrien, well… he had other commitments, as your mother said,'' Roderich stammered out, eyes darting from Ban to Astarion nervously. It was a lie, Ban was sure, but she couldn’t exactly place why. In her mind Astarion whispered his agreement.

She shook her head. “He didn’t, father. Don’t lie. You never were good at it. Does he not want to see me?”

Arlette let out a loud tch of disdain. “Of course he doesn’t want to see his ungrateful sister. I birthed you. We raised you. Loved you. And what do you do, the first moment we need you to do something in return? You run. You selfish, ungrateful child. After you left, your brother’s betrothal became much more difficult for us to secure. ‘Little beauty’,” she scoffed, “You aren’t even beautiful. All you have is what I taught you, no matter what your poncey husband here says. You know that.”

Ban tried not to let those words seep into her heart, but they hit their mark anyway. She felt herself tremble, felt tears threatening to form. No. Don’t. She’s just riling you up, Ban. Don’t.

It didn’t work. Her eyes blurred as her tears welled up, her breathing became fast and began to hitch. She gripped the edges of her chair, trying to ground herself because no, they can’t see me cry again, they can’t win-

“OUT!”

Astarion’s thunderous voice broke through to her, strong and brave and so, so needed. Her home and her salvation. She watched as he stood, index finger pointed towards the door.

“Out. Before I end your miserable, worthless lives. Get. Out.”

Ban wanted to tell him she hadn’t gotten the truth yet, but she was in no condition to. Astarion snapped a finger, summoning the chamberlain.

“Get them out of my palace, and they are not to be allowed back in under any circumstances.”

The chamberlain hurried to Roderich’s side and gestured politely towards the door. Roderich shot out of his chair and shoved the chamberlain away, glaring at Astarion.

“You may be the man of the house here, but mark my words: you are nothing. I do not know what you are, but I know enough to know you are unholy. A monster,” he spat out.

Astarion laughed at this, gleefully baring his fangs. They glinted in the candlelight; Roderich and Arlette flinched and went pale.

“Then you know how easily I can kill you, drain all your putrid blood and bathe in your innards,” he hissed. “And who would believe you? I walk in the sun. My heart beats. I am warm. I am a patron of the arts. I am well-respected throughout the entire city. I am a lord. And you? A sniveling, washed-out guildsman, bitter over some argument over a commissioned mirror. Any more attempts to approach my wife, to even speak to her without her express permission, and I will crush your reputation.” Astarion smiled, all teeth and danger, the predator on full display. “And if I ever hear any whispers about what lives in this palace, I will assume it has come from you. I will find you where you sleep and I will kill you - and I need no invitation to enter your home, trust me.”

Arlette, finally making the connection, took in her daughter’s features. “No. You…”

Ban smiled with feigned shyness, a smile she’d been taught to perform in polite company. But she let her lips stretch further, baring her own fangs. There was a low thrum of satisfaction in her belly as she watched her parents recoil in horror.

“Go on,” Ban said. “My husband has told you to get out. Be polite and do as my lord bids, hm?”

They seemed to hesitate, and Astarion released another hiss for good measure. Roderich finally conceded, his shoulders sagging slightly. He fixed Astarion with one last, terrified glare, then led Arlette out, the chamberlain guiding them out of the palace.

“That didn’t quite go the way I’d hoped,” she said, turning to Astarion. To her surprise he was right next to her, arms already halfway encircling her. He gave her a long, tight embrace, his nose pressed tightly against her temple, breathing in her scent.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The rancor was gone, and so was the smooth veneer in his voice. All that remained were his worry and his concern, her wellbeing his primary focus.

Ban held him just as tightly, hands fisting into his suit coat. It crumpled within her grasp, the smooth silk and the embroidery providing a texture she found comforting.

“I’m fine, I think. Perhaps I won’t be in a little bit, but right now I’m more concerned about Adrien.”

Astarion peered at her, studying her for a moment. Seemingly satisfied she wasn’t lying, he nodded.

“We’ll have to reconsider our approach, but I agree with you.”

“So you saw it too.” She stood, but her husband was always a step ahead; the chair was pulled out, his hands wrapping around hers before she could even reach for him.

It’s as if you can read my mind, she jested.

There was tender amusement there, mixed in with the clouds of still-roiling anger and worry. He tugged at her arm.

We can discuss everything another time. For now I would like you to rest.

She acquiesced, allowing him to lead her to their room.

That night she fell asleep, body enveloped in his arms, her mind embraced by his.

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

I am happy to announce that 'Whither is thy beloved gone?' is getting professionally edited as well. I shall keep everyone abreast of when these changes go live. Thank you!

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