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whimsicallyreading · 3 years ago

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An angsty one-shot for your day. I stayed up way too late to write this.

CW- drinking

Aelin keeps the letters stacked neatly on her desk.

Each letter is stamped, addressed, and ready to mail. In tiny marks on the back, she writes the date every individual one was written. The envelopes are his favorite shade of green. A deep, pine color that she’d painstakingly scoured every stationary shop to find.

Delicately, Aelin seals the latest envelope and adds it to the growing pile.

My Love,

It’s almost winter here in Orynth. I know it’s your favorite season and you are probably sad to miss out, so I took a Polaroid of the clouds coming in over the staghorns for you.

Do you remember how we’d sit in front of Mistward every year and watch the first snow storm come in over the peeks? We would drink hot chocolate and talk for hours. About our families, our futures, anything and everything. It’s still one of my favorite traditions.

In fact, it’s where I am right now. Writing this letter to you. Just because you are overseas doesn’t mean you get to bail out. I bought two hot chocolates, but I suppose I’ll have to drink yours for you. What a shame.

Writing to Rowan was her weekly tradition since he got deployed. No matter how busy life got, every Friday she wrote him two full pages front to back. Whether she got to sit at her desk or had to scribble against the rusty bench at the bus stop, every inch was covered in her hand writing.

That was her personal rule. They had to be handwritten. Aelin felt it meant more that every piece of the letter was entirely from her. So she keeps a collection of colored pens handy for whenever the urge to speak to her husband grows to be too much.

At the bottom of the last page, next to her signature, Aelin always kisses the paper with red lipstick. Maybe it’s cheesy, but it’s the same shade she wore at their wedding.

You could see the ghosts of the color along his jawline in their favorite photos together. His beaming smile, the smudges of red on his face and the collar of his white dress shirt. A remnant from the happiest day of her life she thought would bring him comfort.

My love,

Winter is here! It’s so cold outside. You would say it’s this frigid every year, but it just feels different this time. Maybe it’s because you aren’t hear to snuggle up with and your side of the bed is empty? You were always so warm.

I keep your slippers by the couch. They are ridiculously huge on my feet, but I swear they still feel like you just walked in them. Your warmth is still there.

You would laugh if you saw me hobbling around the apartment in them. My toes slide all over the place. Truthfully, your feet are atrociously large, dear- Still they remind me of you, so I love them.

Aelin gets home late from work that night.

Humiliated tears sting her cheeks, even as she rubs them away. The feeling of that creep, Cairn’s, hands lingering on her ass.

She was used to fending off handsy patrons. What bothered Aelin is that when she complained to her boss, Erawan, he publicly berated her for instigating the customers.

None of the other waitresses would meet her eye when she looked for back up. Grave, the bartender, sniggered through the entire dressing down. Aelin could still feel their eyes on her skin as Erawan accused her of being provocative.

Rowan would have demanded she quit the job. He would have marched down to the bar and broken Cairn’s face. Possibly even held him back so Aelin could do it herself.

Aelin needs the money, though. Rowan’s accounts were frozen due to some stupid technicality at the bank. Without her paycheck, she would lose the apartment.

Sniffling, Aelin slides her feet into Rowan’s slippers and plops at her desk. It isn’t Friday yet, but she’s desperate to speak to him.

As her hand flows across the paper, Aelin knows she won’t describe the days events to him. He’s under enough stress without her work drama adding to his worries.

My love,

Yulemas is next week. Aedion is in Caraverre with Lysandra and our new nephew. Lorcan and Elide are going up from Perranth to stay with them, but the roads are so frozen in Orynth I may just stay here this year.

Besides, work is busy right now. They need someone to man the place for the people with nowhere to go for the holidays.

Maybe I’ll host a little celebration at the bar. Like we did that one year when we got stuck in the Hostel in Rifthold. We made the best of a bad situation, and it was the first time you told me you loved me. I think I’d like to relive a little of that this year.

I miss you. Please come home.

Aelin lays in her bed the night before Yulemas and sobs.

Ugly, guttural noises spill from her chest and she soaks their pillows with tears. The newest envelope is clutched against her chest, and the building stacks mock her from their spot across the room.

Her heart is so raw. Aelin knew it was a bad idea to count the letters, but there was so many. Curiosity got the better of her, and now she was bleeding for her mistake.

Fifty-six.

A full year of letters she hadn’t been able to send.

Rowan had only ever written her twenty before he was declared missing in action.

A year ago, she’d been hanging bobbles and decorating a tree knowing her husband only had a few weeks left of his tour.

Aelin had painted a welcome home banner, and her whole family made plans to come and spend the holiday with the soon-to-be-reunited couple.

She had his slippers waiting by the door. Rowan’s favorite blanket was laundered and folded on his side of the bed in case he wanted to lay down. Aelin had it on good authority that the bed would be one of the first places they visited when he arrived. Emerys had even given her a mixture of their favorite hot chocolate to make.

Everything was perfectly in place for his return.

That’s what when the soldiers arrived at her door and her world fell apart.

Lorcan came home a week later. He hugged Elide and she cried into his shoulder. Happy tears. So unlike the ones Aelin had been shedding. Her friend beamed ear-to-ear, as the love of her life gathered her into his arms and squeezed.

It was a touching sight, but Aelin could feel the hot knife being twisted in her chest. Elide’s happiness caused her physical pain, and it made her feel so selfish. She didn’t begrudge Lorcan his life, or Elide her joy- Aelin just missed her own husband.

Elide and Lorcan spent Yulemas together. Kissing and holding hands. Lysandra finally announced her pregnancy. Aedion’s expression when he opened the box with the baby onesie inside was priceless. Her cousin whooped and hollered, almost dancing with the prospect of becoming a father.

Aelin smiled. She gave her congratulations and celebrated with her family. They hugged, and laughed. Aedion took care to include her in everything, and she played her part even as she tried to ignore the concerned looks her family exchanged behind her back.

Aelin made it to lunch before she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fenrys was the one to find her having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t even known it was a panic attack. Aelin just assumed the pain of losing her soulmate was finally killing her. The tightening of her chest and the body aches felt enough like a heart attack to be convincing.

He gathered Aelin in his arms and counted breaths with her. His twin brother Connal was lost in the same fight where Rowan had gone down. Fen had seen the whole thing from the cockpit of his plain, and nothing he did could’ve saved them.

He shared his pain, and for the first time Aelin felt like someone understood her.

Fenrys let her lean on him as they excused themselves from the celebrations. They drove to some bar in Caraverre and spent the rest of the day wallowing over whiskey.

Aedion came to collect their drunken asses later that evening. Worry etched into every line of his kind face. It only made her feel ashamed that she’d rained all over their happy day.

He was going to be a father, and she’d forced him to spend his time fretting over her instead of reveling in that news.

Now here she was a year later. Aelin wasn’t going to subject herself to that again. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t force her grief upon anyone else this year, either. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that everyone else had to suffer with her.

So, as Yulemas Eve came, and before she could finally distract herself with work, Aelin pulled Rowan’s blanket over herself. She’d spritzed it with his cologne, donned his shirt, and pulled his socks over her feet. Aelin did everything she could to feel surrounded by him.

Then, alone in their bed, she watched as the clock ticked down to midnight.

Rowan,

Wherever you are, I hope my words reach you and that you know you aren’t alone. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could trade places with you- would give anything, just to know where you are.

It breaks my heart, to be without you. Every breath seems pointless. I lied in my last letter. The roads aren’t frozen. I’m not needed at work. No one really needs me to be around them. I just couldn’t spend another holiday surrounded by happy people when the other half of my heart is gone from me.

When you come home, I will feel like celebrating again. I’ll wrap my arms around you, and we can make up for lost time. Just please, don’t make me wait too much longer.

Merry Yulemas, my love. We will be together again one day.

Until then, I’ll keep on writing, only so long as you don’t yield.

Sincerely, your loving wife

Aelin

#throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin #rowan #angst fic #write me #one shot #tog fanfiction #tog

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years ago

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Wedding crashing, please: Trey stealing the bride (because maybe he was a dense idiot before, idk), with the help of Rook and Tweels.

***Mild spoilers for Trey’s Lab Coat personal stories, and the Ghost Marriage and Wish Upon a Star events!***

“I object to this wedding...!”

Pre-Wedding Jitters

Trey has never understood all the “love” stuff that people gush about, or the heights that it drives them to. You can’t exactly add “love” as an ingredient in cake, and isn’t “love” the whole reason why a ghost bride slapped him? Needless to say, he’s not well-versed in the ways of romance.

As his childhood friend, you’ve always known him to be like this: level-headed and practical. You really look up to him a a big brother figure, someone always keeping you straight-laced and out of trouble.

He was the one that wiped your tears when you scraped your knee while playing, the one that made mud cakes with you after a heavy rainfall, the one you split your profits with after running a lemonade stand for the afternoon. Your best friend, always by your side.

Even when Trey went off to NRC, he’d always keep in touch and make time to visit you on his breaks, a few pastries in hand and a smile to greet you with. You’d lounge under blue skies for hours on end, sharing stories in a field of clovers.

Oftentimes, your stories involve your long term S/O, or how serious your relationship is getting. “I think he might propose soon,” you confide in Trey. He’d respond jokingly with, “That so? Then I’d recommend the Clover bakery to do your wedding cake.”

He graduates and moves back to the Rose Kingdom, taking on a more active position at his family’s business--and suddenly, you’re seeing each other almost all the time again. Your stories become all the more real to him, and you bring your S/O to the bakery a few times.

“This is Trey, my childhood friend. My best friend, in fact! Trey, this is my fiancé.”

“Your... fiancé? When was this? This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Oh, you know... Things happened,” you respond with a dreamy blush. “We’re actually here today to order our wedding cake. You always suggested using the Clover bakery for it, right?”

“Right...” (Trey takes your order, but he isn’t smiling about it.)

Later on, he receives an invitation in the mail--an invitation to your wedding. That gnawing sense of unease continues to grow and eat away at him with each passing day.

Finally, Trey can’t take it and ends up venting his frustrations to one of his old classmates and Science Club companion, Rook, over the phone. “I don’t get what’s wrong with me. I should be happy for my friend. Instead, I feel like I just ate Lilia’s... ‘cooking’. It’s strange.”

“Ah, mon amie... It is not strange at all. What you are experiencing is nothing short of love!”

“... Beg pardon?”

Rook talks Trey’s ear off long into the night, pointing out the various little things Trey had never noticed before--how his heart races when he’s with you, how he feels terrible knowing he has grown distant from you, all the time spent together that he cherishes. By the time Rook is done psychoanalyzing him, it’s 5 am, and Trey’s in a daze.

“Okay, okay, you... you’re probably right, but... what good does knowing that do for me now? I’ve realized too late, Rook. The wedding date is already set.”

Trey can’t see the wide smile that unfurls on Rook’s face over the phone. The huntsman only asks for the date and time of the wedding, and for Trey to show up a few hours earlier than its start. “I shall be your marraine fée, Trey-kun!” Rook reassures his friend. “And you, my Cendrillon...! Mark my words, I will see to it that you arrive at the ball at your finest.”

The Crashing

It’s the day of the wedding, and Trey shows up early just as Rook told him to. He’s not sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect to be accosted by Jade and Floyd. Together, the tweels drag him to a spa and dump him into a bath, where Trey is scrubbed and polished until his skin glows.

His flour-dusted apron is exchanged for a beautiful suit and tie, and his makeup is expertly painted on by Rook himself. As the huntsman goes about his work, the twins stand by, snickering to one another as they watch Trey twist in confusion.

“Uh, what’s all of this for?” Trey asks, but Rook tuts and tells him to keep still, or else the eyeliner will apply crooked.

“You must look your best for the wedding crashing, non?”

“Wedding crashing?! Isn’t that a little too extreme of a solution--” He ends up having a coughing fit, for Rook hits his face with a powder puff. “And why are Jade and Floyd here too?!”

“We heard from Umineko-kun that he needed some help busting a party~ Plus, it just seemed like fun!”

“Fufufu... Yes, just as Floyd said, it seemed like fun. That, and... It pains me to see you in such a sorry state, Trey-san. Please, do allow me and my brother to play a role in your happily ever after.”

To Trey’s left is a huntsman in love with the idea of love, and to his right are murderous eels only there to amuse themselves. His stomach lurches, knowing that nothing good can be in store with this formula.

They finish a little late because of their bickering. It’s a race against the clock--the vows have begun, and there’s only so much time left to stop them from being sealed.

When security guards try to stop them from entering late, things get... more aggressive that Trey would have liked. No one dies, but it’s safe to say plenty of guards get squeezed knocked out.

The group bursts into the ceremony with a BAM! (thanks to the twins kicking down the door), drawing all heads to them. Trey mumbles an apology, but he’s cut off by Rook loudly introducing him.

“May I present... Trey Clover.” The huntsman pushes Trey forward, making him stumble towards you.

Your fiancé makes a move to protest, but Jade and Floyd are quick to restrain them (”to keep them from interrupting the ‘romantic’ moment”). Rook stuffs an apple in their mouth to make them quiet.

You stare up at Trey in shock. This was not how you had been hoping to see your best friend on your wedding day.

The Aftermath

“Er... here,” Trey mutters, offering a cherry red food processor to you. “You’re meant to give gifts at a wedding, so I brought you this--even though I’m not here as a guest. This wasn’t exactly my idea, but I got dragged into it anyway.”

You awkwardly take the food processor and ask why he’s here, doing all of this.

He scratches the back of his head and averts his eyes. “... To be honest, I didn’t understand ‘love’ for a long time. I probably still don’t understand it entirely. But if there’s one thing that I do know, it��s that ‘love’ can make even level-headed people do and say crazy things. That’s why I’m here now, crashing this wedding.”

A glance to Rook (giving him two double thumbs up, mouthing, “beauté!”) and the tweels (who seem to be having a little too much fun restraining your groom). Then back to you.

“Oh, and sorry about them. They got... too enthusiastic.”

He shuffles his feet. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I love you. Your eyes could be grapes, and your veil could be a dish rag, but I’d still love you. That’s what I’m feeling--I was just too dense to realize it before.”

“So... I know this is really late, but...”

Suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted into a princess-carry. You yelp, and instinctively cling onto Trey for support.

“Sorry, but I’m stealing the bride,” Trey announces to the stunned hall of wedding guests. Gone is his usual smile, replaced instead with a cocky smirk.

“Marvelous!” Rook nearly sheds a tear at the beautiful display.

Floyd lets out a whoop of support. “Ahahah! Umigame-kun’s getting with the program now~” Beside him, Jade chuckles. “My, what a surprising turn of events. We should not have underestimated Trey-san.” (He drives the apple Rook had shoved into the groom’s mouth in even harder, smiling pleasantly as he does so.)

Thanks to that, the groom passes out, which sends the guests into a panic. Some start to move to block the door, others shout for security (which does nothing, since the twins already took them out).

Jade, Rook, and Floyd collectively work to clear the way for Trey (... sometimes having to rough up particularly feisty guests).

And so, the wedding closes with Trey marching out with you in his arms... and a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x Trey Clover #Floyd Leech #Jade Leech #Rook Hunt #Trey Clover #twst x reader #Reader #self insert #wedding crashing #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #Tweels #twisted wonderland headcanons

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

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Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters: Werewolf!Captain Syverson, Werewolf!Female Reader, Vampire!Walter Marshall.

Warnings (for this chapter, all small mentions but warning just in case): Breastfeeding, Accidental Cutting Injury/Blood loss, blood transfusions. This chapter contains no sex scenes or scenes of a sexual nature.

A continuation of previous Werewolf!Sy stories Moonlight on the Sand and Castle Under The Stars. This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

The late spring day brought pleasant scents and mouth watering flavours, Blackwater Lake’s town May day parade in full flow as you held two month old Luna in her carrier to your chest, turning to smile at your husband Sy as he balanced Mikey on his shoulders so your son could watch the floats whilst they slowly cruised past. You knew he would be most excited about the Fire Department bringing their trucks past. At the first whoop of the siren Mikey squealed with joy, the ice cream cone in his hand tipping slightly and setting a blob of blue bubblegum flavour gelato into Sy’s cheek;

“Hey, no wriggles! Its raining ice cream down here”

Pausing the consumption of your own cone you handed it to Sy as you reached into your bag and found a baby wipe, moving to wipe his cheek before stretching to wipe your son’s face. Finding a trash can to toss the wipe into, you smiled as you watched your two boys as they waved to the Fire Trucks, the crew making sure to honk their horns when they saw Sy.

Everyone in town loved Sy. You’d moved there together when you’d found out you were pregnant with Mikey, your army days behind you and wanting to seek somewhere quiet where you could live in the woods to allow for full moon runs whilst being close enough to civilisation to raise a family. The aging receptionist at the realtor had pulled you aside the second you’d arrived in their office when you’d visited the town, recognising one of her own as her nostrils had flared and she’d explained that there were ‘all sorts’ in the town. That was your first meeting with Edith, and you’d gone on to move in just up the mountain from her. Once Sy had finished in the Army and baby number two was on the way, he’d started working alongside retired detective Walter at his construction company where they specialised in commercial buildings. They were always on call for when businesses had emergencies, so had come to the aid of half the town after storms and accidents.

As the parade dragged on Luna woke, grumbling for a change and a feed. The two boys were transfixed with the parade and you’d lost your ice cream cone to Sy who was now mindlessly munching away on it. Tugging on his sleeve you caught his attention;

“Luna’s woken up, i’m gonna take her into Sue’s Coffee Shop to change her and give her a feed”

“Sure thing Darlin, we’ll come find you in a bit”

The coffee shop was quiet, its doors opened onto the sidewalk and as the radio played soft rock music, just one or two tables taken outside but the inside empty. Sue - the owner - smiled at you as you walked in;

“Hey Sue!”

“Hey there! What can I get'cha?”

“Can i get a decaf iced latte? I just need to change Luna if that’s ok?”

“Of course, no need to ask, the restroom is empty”

A couple of minutes later your little girl had a clean butt but was still grizzling, now hungry for your milk. Sue had set your drink onto a table in the corner, a soft window seat she knew you liked to sit at to feed. Settling in you pulled your cami top down and unhooked the strap of your nursing bra, helping Luna to latch on as she cried before a blissful quiet descended over you as she happily suckled on your breast. In the quiet of the coffee shop you reached for your drink and sipped on it, smiling down at your beautiful daughter as she gazed up at you;

“Hey there my little Luna, better now? Is that the good stuff? Yeah? Well that’s what your Daddy says it is…” you said with a whisper and a smirk.

“Hey”

The sudden greeting made you jump, looking up to see Walter standing near your table;

“Oh, Hi Walter”

“Sorry…” he glanced away, averting his eyes from where you were feeding; “I just asked if you wanted anything?”

“Oh no, i’m fine, i’ve got a coffee… but you’re welcome to join me if you like? Sy and Mikey will be along once the Parade’s over”

Nodding once the quiet man went to order before returning with what looked like a quad espresso but faltering when it came to taking a seat;

“Where did you want me to sit?”

“Oh anywhere you like” you shifted Luna as she had finished on one breast, hooking that side up before shifting and moving her to the other breast. You’d mastered the art of switching breasts without revealing anything, the baby's head blocking any view of a nipple, and you were a vehement supporter of breast feeding - in fact any feeding - and had been known to get into loud shouting matches with anyone that told you to cover up something that was completely natural.

“I mean, i don’t want Sy to think i’m here oggling his wife’s tits”

Laughing, you kicked out a soft chair with your foot;

“This is fairly low, take this one and here…” you moved the upright menu on the table in front of Luna’s head, knowing that she would now be shielded from view and with your breast, and saving Walter’s embarrassment.

Just as Walter sat down Sue brough over his sandwich, the scent of it hitting your nostrils and making your stomach audibly growl;

“Oh wow, what is that?”

“A steak wrap with chimichurri sauce” he lifted one half and offered it to you, but you shook your head.

“Thanks, but that’s just a little too rare for me… looks like a good veterinarian could bring it back to life”

Walter laughed as you called out to Sue, ordering one of the same.

“You want yours still mooing too?”

“Medium, please” you laughed as she nodded and walked away.

As she cooked your meal you turned back to Walter. You’d had a few conversations with him over the 11 months he and Sy had worked together, but knew very little about him apart from his reputation of being quiet and surly, generally sleep deprived and a little pale most of the time. He��d been medically retired from the Police Department after an accident where he’d lost a lot of blood and had never fully recovered.

As Luna happily fed and Walter devoured his sandwich you sipped on your drink, watching with curiosity as the man ate in silence, savouring each bloody bite. When he finally crumpled the napkin onto the plate and sat back he caught you watching him;

“What? Do i have something on my face?”

“No” you laughed softly; “Just watching how quickly you devoured that sandwich. Rachel not feeding you at home?”

Walter’s face dropped;

“She left”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry Walter, i wouldn’t have said anything if i’d known”

“S’ok. She got fed up with the way i lived my life, but i can’t change who i am”

“True”

Just then Sy and Mikey came running into the coffee shop;

“Hi Darlin! Hi Sue! Hi Walt… be right back, Jnr has a bathroom emergency!”

The two Syverson boys disappeared into the restroom, and you could clearly hear Sy’s voice;

“Point! POINT IT AT THE TOILET! That’s it, stand on your tippy toes… there we go! Got here in time!”

You suppressed a laugh, Walter raising his eyebrows;

“Potty training?”

“Uh-huh… it's been a challenging few weeks to say the least, but Mikey wanted to give it a go”

The sound of the dryer could be heard as Sy and Mikey reappeared, Sy giving you double thumbs up from behind his son who ran to you;

“A perfect aim Darlin, no leaks. Think this deserves a cookie!”

As Mikey squealed with joy you groaned;

“Sy… not more sugar! He’ll be up all night. Mikey, honey, how about some fries?”

“And Eggies?” Mikey asked

“Sure thing honey, get Daddy to ask Sue”

As the afternoon wore on and the boys chatted, you listened as Sy and Walter discussed work stuff, Luna sleeping peacefully in your arms as you ate with Mikey. Finally glancing at your watch you motioned to Sy the time;

“Hun, i’ve gotta go collect our meat order from Walkers Meats”

“Oh yeah, sure. Here…” He opened his wallet and peeled off a bunch of $20’s as he turned to Walter; “She makes the best Steak Tartare… it's unbelievable”

“You make that?” Walter asked

Angling Luna into her carrier sling you adjusted the straps and nodded;

“Sure do! Hey, did you want to join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, join us!” Sy parroted; “And before you say anything, you wouldn’t be intruding”

With a weak smile Walter nodded;

“Sure, that’ll be nice. I gotta go to the lumber yard before though… pick out the stuff for next week's job”

You noticed that Mikey had finished his meal and was looking sleepy, holding your hand out to him he slid off the chair and stood next to you;

“How about I take the kids home, Sy you catch a ride with Walter?”

With everyone happy with the arrangements you made your way along main street to where Sy had parked his enormous truck, helping Mikey into his seat before unlatching Luna and settling her into her carrier. They were both fast asleep by the time you got to the drivers seat.

You managed to park directly outside the door to Walkers Meats, and Freya the weekend girl helpfully brought everything out to you when you called inside that the kids were asleep in the car and you didn’t want to leave them.

Dinner had been fun. The two kids were peacefully sleeping as the three adults chatted after the meal, before you finally stood to load the dishwasher and start hand washing the items that couldn’t go in there. Just as you were about to start you heard a cry from the kids, Sy standing;

“It’s Mikey, i’ll go”

As you started to handwash the various knives and delicate glasses, Walter stood at your side to dry items, the two of you talking casually before you let out a cry and pulled your hand from the soapy bowl of water. The dark crimson of your blood flowed from your finger, the knife you’d forgotten you’d put in the sink the cause;

“Fuck… hand me a towel…” you asked Walter, but were surprised when he sucked in a sharp intake of breath and turned, hunching over. Clutching your hand to your chest, you were surprised by his reaction, before he suddenly turned and you let out a shriek.

Sy appeared at the doorway in a panic before rushing to you, wrapping a napkin around your hand before he finally turned to look at Walter;

“What the fuck…”

Walter was pale, paler than usual, but that wasn’t what shocked the pair of you. No, it was the fact his eyes were pure white except for dark pools for his pupils, and as he opened his mouth to speak you saw his fangs;

“It’s… it’s the blood…” he gasped out; “It drives me…”

Sy wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but looked at his friend as he slumped onto the floor, shaking and sobbing;

“Think we need a chat Walt”

The three of you sat around the kitchen table, a hefty glass of scotch in front of each of you as Walter spoke;

“So umm yeah… this is why i left the Department. Went into a supposedly abandoned building, but it wasn’t empty. Two what we thought were junkies in there, looked like they were frail and would snap in a keen wind, but they had this strength and speed… They overpowered me, latched onto my neck. Drained my blood, and when the last drop was about to pass their lips one of my officers finally found me and shot them. They bled into me. The EMT’s took me to New Mercy and gave me a massive blood transfusion, and treated me for severe anemia… well guess what, the fangs and fucked up eyes were a surprise a few weeks after i was discharged”

You sat wide eyed and mouth agape, not touching your drink;

“I have so many questions...”

“Okay”

“Garlic. Crosses. Being invited in. Sunlight…”

Walter chuckled;

“Most a load of complete bollocks. Garlic? Well you put some in your steak tartare didn’t you? In fact it helps with the anemia. Crosses? No issue. Being invited in, again that’s just rubbish. Sunlight however… why do you think i’m so pale, huh? Have to wear factor 50 all the damn time otherwise i end up looking like a Maine Lobster at a cookout”

Both you and Sy were transfixed, Walter chatting away but his eyes hadn’t returned to normal and his fangs occasionally caught on his lip as he spoke.

“What ‘bout blood then?” Sy asked

Walter cleared his throat;

“Well, i’ve been making do with cows blood since Rachel left”

“You used to suck her blood?” you asked in a high pitched voice

Again Walter cleared his throat, this time just the faintest hint of a blush crept over his cheeks above his beard;

“Err yeah, about once a month… but she had enough in the end and left”

“I got another question” Sy interjected; “Why are your fangs still out?”

Although he answered Sy, Walter looked directly at you;

“Because she’s bleeding”

You looked down at your hand, puzzled as the wound had now sealed, before it hit you;

“Oh… I should go and sort that out”

Sy caught up quickly, glancing at the back of your dress;

“You’re fine Darlin, Walt caught it in time”

When you returned to the kitchen the two men had knocked back their drinks, Sy pouring another hefty glass for the pair of them. Pouring your drink into Sy’s you smiled at him;

“Luna won’t appreciate it”

Making yourself a herb tea you sat down next to Sy, leaning on his shoulder as you sipped your tea. Walter cleared this throat;

“You two have taken this a lot better than i envisioned anyone would… better than Rachel did…”

You looked up at Sy and smiled, his own grin crossing over his face before he nodded and you both turned to Walter as Sy spoke;

“Oh… we have a bit of understanding of this kinda thing”

With the full moon starting tomorrow night you knew that you could both force your eyes to turn orange, the bright ring of fire in your irises flaming like a pyre, shocking Walter so much he slipped back on his chair and fell to the floor. Greeted by both of you giggling, he pulled himself back up using the table as he righted his chair, knocking back the rest of his glass;

“What… the… FUCK?”

#blackwater lake #henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #werewolf!sy #Vampire!Walter

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tezzbot · 3 years ago

Text

applejack headcanons in a sort of timeline i have in my head based on the flashbacks/statements in the show lol this is gonna get long i apologise

aj is born in the sweet apple acres barn to bright mac and pear butter :D

we get the apple family reunion episode flashback where she is lichrally baby asking for apple fritters 🥺

she grows up a bit, just by family gene pool luck shes a strong little fucker and as she grows her family realises she's not just physically strong but strong willed too, it becomes a running joke that shes secretly part mule with how stubborn she can be :P

bright mac had a dog from when he was younger that he loved with all his heart, big mac loved him too but applejack thought was a grumpy old lump of a beast she just Did Not Like This Animal you know how kids can be lmaooo

applejack and big mac dont really leave the farm all that much, theyre homeschooled by their parents and granny smith so, generally they dont have that many friends their age in their childhood, they say hi and play a bit with fillies and colts they pass while helping out with deliveries, aj and rarity possibly have a few interactions through this but nothing really sticks at this point, they know each others names and thats probably it, the apple siblings are a big hit with usual customer and ponies who sell them things in the market

pear butter teaches aj how to play the guitar and she practices until her hooves hurt, her ma is very proud of her, they like to play duets when they have some alone time :] then, deciding to branch out from that applejack also picks up other instruments like the banjo and the fiddle, they find out she has quite a knack for music! (applejack is only slightly disappointed she doesnt get her cutie mark from it, but unlike applebloom would be in the future, she doesnt mind all that much, after all granny smith always said it'd come with time 😌)

not long after little applebloom is born we get the great seedling episode flashback which is a turning point in applejack, a moment like finding out santa or the tooth fairy isnt real, she matures a little bit that day, gains more of the work ethic we see in her as an adult

around this time is when bright mac and pear butter die :( i dont have a concrete headcanon on How they die but the dangerous trade routes the apples have to take to make deliveries may have had something to do with it, or maybe they were trying to protect the farm from something coming from the everfree forest, im not sure

the rest of the apple family make their way to sweet apple acres to give their condolences and help out in any way they can around the farm while our apples grieve :( its sad but it brings aj and big mac closer than they'd ever been

after shes recovered a little from that, i think aj kind of loses herself, i mean how can you not after losing both parents :(( so she decides to leave the farm in the hopes she'll be able to find herself again in manehattan, this is the cutie mark chronicles flashback and where she realises she belongs in ponyville, Runs home and gets her cutiemark

after a little bit, to help her become a little bit more social with foals her age, applejack goes to camp friendship where she meets little coloratura and the two Immediately click, aj gives her new best friend the nickname rara and they're practically inseparable the whole summer, their friendship starts to grow into something more but rara is heading back to manehatten after camp and applejack belongs back in ponyville, so they decide to give a lonb distance relationship a try, they manage to exchange letters back and forth for a long time, ultimately deciding a long distance relationship wasnt gonna work so they mutually decide to break up but still stay pen pals! after a while, the letters stop and they become just a memory in one anothers minds

sweet apple acres eventually returns to a business as usual state, with groups of relatives stopping by the farm now and again to give a helping hoof considering its now run by a late-middle aged lady, two children and a baby lol, applejack, while still doing a lot of tree bucking, is starting to take on a more maternal figure role in applebloom's life as well as being her sister, her and big mac feels more responsible and protective of the foal since she would be growing up with no ma and pa, they sort of took on those roles, applejack more intensely i guess i just see her as having strong maternal instincts embedded in her or something lol, but she for sure isnt "single mom"ing it, with granny smith and other relatives ready to take the little bugger when aj needs to get stuff done :P it takes a village and all that lmao

since at this time aj and big mac are starting to go into town more often and are free to do as they please as long as their chores get done, they start actually interacting more with teens their age in ponyville! applejack starts hanging out with fillies like rarity who she had known in passing but now could finally get to know and the cake's new apprentice and ponyvilles youngest party planner, pinkie pie

after starting to hit some awkward growth spurts as she reaches her teens lol, she starts taking an interest in the business side of the farmwork too, dealings with customers, looking into trade routes stuff like that, this is when the where the apple lies flashback takes place i fuckin love that episode please watch it, and this starts applejack's lifelong promise to never lie ever again which she keeps bc shes a legend as fuck <3

one day aj notices cloudsdale passing through probably to start preparing ponyville for the next season, and she hears a Thud coming from a row or two over from where she's working, she goes over to investigate to find a pegasus filly shaking off what aj can only assume was a crash, she asks if shes alright, n the filly is like of course i am im so tough toughest around actually thanks<3 and aj is internally like hm. this kids kinda annoying. they introduce themselves and applejack finds out rainbow dash is looking for her friend fluttershy, she likes to come down from cloudsdale to play with animals or something, but applejack hasnt seen any yellow pegasi fillies around so the little blue filly says thanks anyway and zips off at what aj can only describe as probably the speed of light, she somehow has a strange feeling this isnt gonna be the last she sees of this kid

she turns out to be right when shes invited to a happy visit to ponyville from cloudsdale party thrown for rainbow and fluttershy, apparently rainbow had bumped into pinkie while asking around ponyville for any idea where fluttershy and of course pinkie Had to make an event out of it once she had helped rainbow find her friend, the party was of course a lot of fun rainbow and aj somehow managed to turn every party game into a competition and despite their first impressions of one another they actually got along really well and gained a good amount of respect for each other, aj eventually found fluttershy sort of hiding away from most of the party and fluttershy actually opened up a little after talking with aj bc of how calming her presence was for her

over the next few years the five got to know each other quite well, anytime cloudsdale passed by rainbow and fluttershy would drop into ponyville to hang out or just say hi, and once they were old enough they moved into their ponyville houses and the five of them became just a regular friend group youd see hanging out on the streets of ponyville, fluttershy helps aj pick out a border collie puppy for help with wrangling critters on the farm (applebloom was getting too old to be sent off to mindlessly run after little animals all the time and she had started going to school so she wasnt around as much lmaoo) and just as a companion for applejack, she names her Winona :]

and then after those few years Twilight shows up! you know the rest from there :P

if i missed anything uhhh whoops<3 lol

#mlp #mlp applejack #tezztalks #mlp headcanons #might make more of these idk tho #block that tag if u dont wanna see em BDNVD #the hc tag i mean

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puckinghell · 4 years ago

Text

Acts Of Service | Elias Pettersson

Summary: When people have different love languages, sometimes it’s hard to understand what the other is trying to say. 4 times Elias shows you he loves you, and the 1 time you tell him. Words: 7.5k (whoops) Note: This concept was very interesting to explore. Also yes, this entire thing was written because of that one picture of Elias in that blue sweater stepping out of the car like a fucking GQ model.

----

(Some time ago)

“Didn’t you say there’s an apartment free in your building?” Brock asked as soon as you answered the phone, forgoing the “hello”.

“Hello, Brock, my very good friend, how nice to talk to you! How are you doing?” you deadpanned.

At least he had the decency to sound ashamed. “Ah, yes, hi. Sorry. I’m just in a hurry and it’s important.”

You frowned. “Why? Are you looking to move?”

“No.” Brock laughed. “Stetch would kill me. No, it’s about the rookie. Petey? I told you about him. Swedish, quiet, best fucking hands in the league.”

Yes. Brock had told you about the rookie, although you still thought it dumb to call him that. Brock was basically still a rookie himself.

“What does that have to do with my apartment building?”

“He said no to having a billet family but everyone on the team thinks it’d be good for him to have someone to kinda look out for him a bit. He’s never been to Canada before this, you know, and he’s never lived on his own either. His English isn’t that great and everything is new for him. And since you’re such a caring, loving person, we thought…”

“You thought I could babysit him?” you finished for Brock.

“It’s not babysitting. Just, being friendly if he needs anything. Obviously we’re there for that too, but it’d be nice to have you so close by.”

Close by would be an understatement: the free apartment was across the hall from yours.

You weren’t sure if this sounded like something that you would necessarily want to do, but you did feel a bit sorry for Elias: you’d met him at a team thing earlier that week and he’d looked completely lost in the midst of all the Canadian hockey slang that you barely managed to follow, even after having been friends with Brock for years. He mostly kept to Eagle, spoke in Swedish, and his eyes flickered nervously across the room whenever anyone else approached him.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to my landlord. But you owe me, Blondie.”

Brock was happy enough that he didn’t even call you out on the nickname.

“Have I told you lately how much of a lifesaver you are?” You lean across your desk, resting your chin in your hands. Elias looks mildly amused as he hands you the papers.

“Nearly every day,” he says, “but then I save your life every day, so that seems fair.”

You grab the papers from his hands.

“You’re a lifesaver and the love of my life, Petey.”

You think back to when Elias just moved into your apartment building, only because Brock thought he needed someone to look after him. You could laugh, now, thinking about how wrong he’d been.

Elias is the most self-sufficient, independent person you know. You don’t think he’s ever needed anything from anyone. Like in hockey, where he can make the play and score the goal all at the same time, Elias has his life together.

Unlike you.

Despite the fact that Elias hadn’t needed much help from you, you had become very fast friends. His quick witted sarcasm always managed to make you laugh and he liked how upfront and honest you were with him about things. It was easy, too, to spend time together. With him living just across the hall, you found yourself wandering to his apartment whenever you were bored, and he showed up at yours often when he didn’t feel like cooking.

Just because he could cook, didn’t mean he always wanted to.

And ever since the two of you had become friends, Elias had your back. When you needed someone to water your plants, or feed your cat Puck – Brock had named him – or, apparently, bring you the important work papers that you forgot at home after having worked on them all weekend.

You groan as you flick through the papers. “I thought I was going to die. Without these I can’t finish my presentation.”

“When is it?” Elias asks, eyes searching behind you. You know he’s looking out for your asshole of a boss, who will use any excuse to yell at you, especially the unannounced visit of a friend.

“Tomorrow. I got all the content in these papers here, but I still have to make the PowerPoint.” You sigh. “It’s still so much work.”

“Oh.” Elias’ face lights up. “Almost forgot. Brought you this.” Triumphantly, he reaches down and comes up with a paper bag from your favorite coffee shop.

The words fall off your lips in a gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Strawberry scone and a large caramel macchiato with soy milk.” Elias grins. “I also got you a chocolate chip cookie for later.”

“Marry me,” you proclaim, as you make grabby hands for the bag. The coffee is precisely what you need and your mouth is already watering at the idea of the food.

“Get me a ring, then,” Elias jokes, as he starts getting up from the chair.

Something tightens in your stomach, so you quickly take a bite of the scone: anything to push those feelings to the side. It works a little, and at the very least it tastes amazing.

You’re just friends. If you were gonna be anything more, Elias would’ve made a move already. Or, if you’d been brave enough, you would’ve: but he’s never said anything to make you think he’s interested and quite frankly, you’re not that brave.

“Thank you,” you say, mouth still full of scone, and Elias wrinkles his nose at that as you knew he would.

“I’m going to the store now,” he says, “anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Wine?” you ask, hopeful. “I’m gonna need it after today.”

Elias rolls his eyes at you, but when you come home after the most grueling day at work there’s a bottle of rosé sitting in your fridge, next to a bag full of your favorite Thai take out food.

Love you, you quickly text Elias, even though you know he can’t answer because the game is about to start.

You take some time showering and putting on comfortable clothes, then situate yourself on the couch and put on the game. It has already begun, and you know it’s not gonna be an easy one, against the Bruins.

It’s not until the first intermission, when you check your phone, that you see there’s a reply from Elias waiting for you.

It’s just a simple heart emoji, but it makes your heart race anyway.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can barely hear you.” Fiona’s tone is disapproving, and you pull your mouth away from where you’d pressed it into your arm to scream.

“I said, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

She laughs. “It’s just a car, Y/N.”

You don’t necessarily like your job, but Fiona is one of the reasons you’re still putting up with it. She’s not just a colleague anymore, slowly turning into a friend and someone you confide into about everything – even about your Elias problem – and you love her, but sometimes you could murder her.

“It’s not just a car,” you bite. “It’s my only mode of transportation, because you know how much I hate taking the bus, and it’s broken, and I probably can’t even afford to get it fixed. And now I have to walk home, and it’s raining.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona admits.

After a long day at work, you couldn’t wait to get home and watch The Bachelor until you fell asleep, your cat in your lap. However, when you finally got away from the office and stepped into your car, it was clear the universe had different plans.

It didn’t start.

After trying approximately 15 times, you’d screamed, nearly cried, hit the steering wheel, and then went back inside to scream and cry a little more at Fiona’s desk.

“I just wanna go home, Fi.” You know you sound miserable, but you honestly can’t help it. Taking the bus always heightens your anxiety, so you avoid it at all costs: however, walking home in this pouring rain doesn’t seem like much fun either.

And Fiona can’t even bring you home, because she takes the bus to work like a normal person.

“There’s a simple solution to this, you know,” Fiona says. She starts to organize the papers on her desk, a clear sign that she’s getting ready to leave the office as well. “You could just call…”

“No,” you interrupt her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “I can’t call Elias. He’s got the boys over today and I won’t interrupt his fun with my misery. Besides, he does too much for me already, I can’t ask him for more.”

“Right,” Fiona drawls, “but when he hears that you were stuck here and didn’t call him…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Elias would be furious.

One time, you were on a night out when you got a little too tipsy and didn’t realize your phone had died. By the time you noticed, all your friends had already jumped in their respective Ubers, but you had been too busy chatting with some girl you didn’t know to order yours, and now you couldn’t because you didn’t have a phone.

You knew you could’ve asked any random person to order you an Uber, or at least to borrow their phone to call Elias – it’s not like you didn’t know his number by heart – but that felt like too much. It had been 3 am and he had a game the next day, so you decided to walk home.

When he found out the next day, he got so mad he didn’t talk to you for 4 days. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and just sat on his couch pouting at him until he spoke to you again.

“Something could’ve happened,” he’d muttered, explaining to you why he got mad in the first place. “And I’m your best friend, and you should know me enough to know that I would much rather you wake me up than you walk home alone.”

You did know that, and he was your best friend, and you’d promised him you’d never do it again.

It’s only that promise, that causes you to reach for your phone.

“I’m texting him, but if he’s busy, I’m walking,” you tell Fiona stubbornly. She ignores you, which is probably fair enough.

Hey, you busy right now? Are the guys still there?

The answer comes right away. What’s wrong?

Damn, he knows you too well. You quickly explain the situation and before you know it, Elias is on his way to come get you, and Fiona is bidding you goodbye after you promise her you’re fine on your own for the twenty minutes it’s gonna take Elias to get there.

You’re just checking your email on your phone when you hear the bell at the front door.

“I’m coming!” you call out. You hurry to grab your bags and then walk quickly to the door, where Elias is standing with his car keys between his fingers.

“So Bella finally gave up, huh?” he asks, a sly little smirk on his face. He always teases you with the fact that you named your car.

“Yes, and I know you told me,” you sigh, and it’s clear that he immediately – and correctly – reads your mood.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you gratefully fall into them, hugging him tightly to your body. There’s very little in the world that brings you more comfort than one of Elias’ hugs: although being on Elias’ couch wearing one of his old hoodies watching some stupid reality show might come close.

“Let’s go home,” Elias finally mumbles, and he holds out an umbrella when he lets you go.

It’s raining really hard, and you know he has to park his car a little bit away because there’s no parking in front of your office, so you take it.

“You could’ve just called, I would’ve ran out,” you tell him sternly, but he shrugs.

“But then how would you have gotten the umbrella?”

You would tell him you’re not made of sugar, but as soon as you step outside the rain clatters loudly against the fabric of the umbrella and you realize you would’ve really, really hated to not have it, so you stay quiet.

Instead, you walk after him as he runs to his car and opens the passenger door for you. It’s still running, and the heater is on: only then do you realize you’re quite cold.

This morning they said it would be nice outside, so you didn’t bother to take a coat.

It’s quiet in the car for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, and combined with the soft music that is playing on the radio it lulls you into a false sense of comfort.

Until you realize something.

“Oh God,” you groan, “I’m gonna have to call someone to tow Bella to a mechanic.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Well, you could just leave her there.”

Normally you would’ve at least playfully punched his arm for the sarcastic tone in his voice, but right now you’re too busy freaking out.

“And how am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Don’t you dare say you’ll bring me cause I know you’ve got morning practice and it’s super out of your way. Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?”

You let your head fall against the window. The glass is cold against your cheek and it’s enough to stop the spiraling in your brain at least for a second.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice has lost all sarcastic edge. It’s gentle now, and he’s speaking low as if not to startle you. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll call the tow truck and the mechanic and get your car fixed. And Brock lives close enough that he can take me to and from practice and you can just take my car to work.”

It’s… a reasonable solution, but once again something that Elias has to go out of his way for, even just a little bit, and you feel something warm bloom inside your chest.

“Okay,” you answer, the stress already ebbing away. “Thank you. You’re the best.” You reach out and place your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Elias mumbles something incoherent. You think you see some color on his cheeks, but surely that’s just because the heater is on, because there’s no way he’s blushing over something you said.

You turn off the heater, and let your thoughts wander as Elias drives you home.

Traveling is fun, but traveling for work is instantly a lot less fun. You really don’t know how Elias does it.

You’re feeling run down and jetlagged when you come back from your work trip, which is ridiculous cause you flew to Toronto, not to freaking Europe. But it’s late at night and the three days you were away were so busy you can barely remember sleeping at all.

Fiona slept on the plane, so she looks a little more alive than you when your feet touch the ground at Vancouver airport.

“Is Elias coming to pick you up?” Fiona asks, as you’re both walking through the gate.

You shake your head. “I’m sure he would’ve insisted if he could, but he’s in California right now. They played the Kings tonight and they’re playing the Sharks the day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I was in California,” Fiona says wistfully. It’s cold and wet in Vancouver and it wasn’t much better in Toronto. The tiredness doesn’t help: it feels as if the cold of the night is slowly creeping into your bones.

“Come on then, I’ll drop you off.” You thank Fiona and follow her to her car. Normally you wouldn’t have minded taking an Uber, but right now you just wanna get to bed as soon as possible.

“If I fall asleep, just let me sleep here,” you mumble, resting your head back against the head rest. Fiona laughs as she starts the car.

“No way, you’ll freeze to death.” She squints outside. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

“It always rains,” you say, despite the fact that it’s not raining at the moment.

Fiona turns onto the highway. “So, are you finally gonna put up that bookcase you bought?”

Involuntarily, you groan. “Stop, don’t remind me.”

Your old bookcase is big and ugly, and it has been a thorn in your eye ever since you moved in. The person that lived there before you left it there, and you only kept it because you couldn’t really afford not to.

Four weeks ago, you finally allowed yourself to buy a new, prettier bookcase.

But…

“It’s just so big,” you whine, repeating the excuses you’ve been giving Elias every single time he raises a judgmental eyebrow at the old bookcase still standing in your living room. “It’s gonna take forever to take it apart and then it’s gonna take me even longer to somehow get it all downstairs and get rid of it.”

“And then you have to build the new one,” Fiona nods understandingly. “And you’re not good with furniture.”

“Hey,” you protest, but it’s weak. You’re not good with furniture, which was proven when you tried to help Fiona move in and didn’t manage to help her put together anything at all. Instead she ended up with a table with three legs.

You even tried to read the manual, but it’s just not your forte.

“I’ll do it,” you add, “I promise you I will. Just, maybe not this weekend…”

Fiona laughs, but she doesn’t call you out on the fact that it probably won’t happen during the week either.

Finally, you arrive at your building. You can’t wait to go to bed, and you thank Fiona multiple times before dragging your luggage upstairs. When you open the door to your apartment, Puck comes running up to you, meowing and weaving between your legs.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you tell the cat sternly. “Petey sent me many pictures of you sleeping in his lap and I know he feeds you chicken when he thinks I won’t notice, so you got spoiled this week.”

You lovingly scratch Puck’s ears, before flicking on the light and kicking the door behind you in the lock.

Instantly, you notice the difference.

Your apartment isn’t big: real estate in Vancouver isn’t cheap and your job isn’t great. You got this place mostly for the location, and you like the big windows in the apartment and how it manages to get in light even during the darkest of winter days.

One corner of your living room, however, was always darker than the others. The bookcase took away the entirety of the white wall, and it created a dim lit, sad looking corner.

Now, it’s open and bright, as your new bookcase stands proudly in its place.

There’s only one person who would’ve done that.

The phone rings a few times, but you know the Kings game ended a while ago so you let it ring. After a while, Elias picks up.

“Sorry for the background noise,” is the first thing he says. “We’re on the plane. Taking off in a few minutes, probably.”

In the background, you hear some yelling. Probably Jake.

“You put up my bookcase,” you blurt out, ignoring Elias’ statement. “You put it up and all the books are in it and the other one is gone.”

Elias sounds a little smug when he answers. “Well, it’s not like you were ever gonna do it.”

“Thank you.” To your own horror, you can feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Elias, seriously…”

“It’s nothing.” You can hear Elias’ smile even over the phone: you know everyone always makes fun of his deadpan tone when he talks to media but with his friends, his voice always betrays everything he’s feeling. “I know you were worried about it, and I know how much you hated that old one.” He laughs. “I get why now, by the way. It took me and Brock like four hours to get that thing out.”

“Brock helped too?”

“He did.” Elias is silent for a while, but in the background you hear another voice. “Brock says to tell you that I forced him. But that’s not entirely true.”

Entirely. You know Elias definitely did force him.

“Tell him thank you too.”

“He says you’re welcome,” Elias says, quick enough that it makes you think Brock didn’t say that at all. “We’re about to take off so I have to put my phone on airplane mode. But call me tomorrow okay? I wanna hear about your work trip.”

“Okay.” For some reason, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You didn’t notice it momentarily, while you were focused on Elias’ and Brock’s bickering, but now it’s back, and with a vengeance.

Fuck. You just…

“I miss you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself and if anyone would ask, you would blame the exhaustion and the fact that Elias can’t see how wet your eyes are over the phone.

“I’ll be back soon,” he answers softly, and his voice is gentle in a way that makes you think he knows about the tears, anyway. “And when I am, we’re gonna take a whole night to eat food and stare at that bookcase, because it needs to be appreciated after the effort I had to put in to build it.”

You laugh before quietly saying goodbye to Elias and hanging up the phone.

In the kitchen, Puck sits in front of the fridge. When you open it there’s a pan with chicken.

For Puck the note next to it says, and you send Elias a picture of Puck with his chicken.

“He spoils you,” you tell your cat. You decide to ignore the fact that he kinda spoils you, too.

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the smell of garlic.

After yet another shitty day at work, you can already feel the lump in your throat building again. You didn’t even tell him, this time. In fact, you carefully avoided his texts because you knew he’d clock that something was wrong.

Fuck. That’s probably where you went wrong in the first place; usually you never ignored Elias’ texts.

“Hello?” you call out into your own apartment.

There’s soft music playing and there’s light coming from the living room, but the amazing smell that tickles your senses is clearly coming from the kitchen, so that’s where you go.

Elias is standing at your kitchen counter, chopping a carrot.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling your way. “I’m making dinner.”

It’s almost too much, how domestic it looks. And how right: like he belongs there in your space, waiting for you to come home.

Suddenly there’s the overwhelming urge to go towards him, so you do. His arm immediately lifts, creating space for you in the crook of his body, and you slip under his arm easily.

“How did you know?” you mumble into the fabric of his worn Canucks hoodie. It smells like him, a scent that reminds you of home as much as your mother’s signature dish.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Elias hums. His arm tightens around your body. “So I figured you could use some good food and a bath.” His head motions towards the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m running it as we speak.”

God. You love him.

It hits you, then. You knew you had a crush on him, knew you wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and feel his hands on you. But it’s more than that, now.

It’s the realization that you want to share everything with him. The ups and the downs. The bad nights and the bright mornings. You want him in your kitchen, but more than that, you want it to be his kitchen, too.

Fuck. You’re so royally screwed.

Because he does this, and he does so much for you, but he’s never said anything, anything at all, to indicate that he wants that. Or has even considered it, thought about it.

Maybe it’s never even crossed his mind. Maybe he takes care of you like he would take care of a sister.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is gentle as it pulls you out of your thoughts, back down to earth. “You’re shaking. Go take a bath, and I’ll finish dinner, and then we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother. I wanted to watch the next episode but I waited for you.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Isn’t that chivalrous of me?”

It is, and normally you would tease him for it, but you can’t really think or speak, so you just nod.

“There’s wine in the fridge, if you want a glass,” Elias says. He holds out a wine glass, already waiting for you on the counter.

And who cares that it’s only a Tuesday: you deserve it, damn it, so you open the fridge to find the wine.

You’re met with more than just that.

“You bought groceries?” you ask, your eyes traveling through your fridge. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in like a week, and when you left for work this morning the fridge was basically empty. Now it’s so full you wonder how you’re gonna close the door.

“How else was I gonna cook anything? You only had cat food left,” Elias tuts. You’re not surprised to find Puck at Elias’ feet, waiting for him to inevitably slip him some human food.

“Did you get…”

“Your coconut yoghurt? Yes.”

He did, and he got basically all your staples, and nothing you wouldn’t buy yourself.

“Honestly,” you say, as you finally reach for the bottle and pull your head out of the fridge. “I don’t know what to say, Petey. Thank you. I had such a sucky day and now it’s already endlessly better.”

This time you know you’re not imagining the flush on Elias’ cheeks.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You should go take that bath before it goes cold.”

You want to say more: to tell him time and time again how amazing he is, how much he means to you, how thankful you are. But you know once you start, you can’t be trusted to not say the one thing you don’t think he wants to hear.

So you say nothing, and simply go to take your bath.

But you think about it.

You think about it all throughout Christmas, where you don’t see Elias at all. You think about it during NYE, when you get a drunk SnapChat from Elias with his brother, right at midnight.

At least, you figure, he’s not kissing any girls.

You’re not kissing any boys, either. You’re at a NYE party with Fiona and it’s fun, it is, but it’s not the same as it would be if Elias wasn’t all the way in Sweden.

You miss him like a limb, and you know it’s not fair because he rarely gets time to go home to Sweden and he deserves that time with his family, but you can’t say you didn’t wish his time off ended already.

When it finally does, it’s not Elias you see first. Troy is throwing a late New Years party, just to welcome everyone back to Vancouver as they get ready to start the season back up, and when you arrive at his house it’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a handful of people there.

“Y/N!” Brock calls out, opening his arms to give you a big hug as you enter. “Missed you!”

You laugh. “Get off of me, you giant. I’m gonna drop the wine.”

“Not the wine,” Troy says dramatically, tearing it out of your hands. His eyes are sparkling when he thanks and hugs you, and then Brock is ushering you into the living room, where Jake is talking with Quinn.

Or talking at Quinn. To be honest, you never really know when Quinn is paying attention.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaims, much like Brock had. “I’m glad you’re here, we need your input on something.”

“Okay?” you ask, curiosity instantly taking over. Whenever Jake and Brock get together, it promises to be an interesting evening.

“We’re trying to decide Brock’s love language.”

It’s sudden enough that you laugh. “His what?”

“Love language,” Jake explains. “Like, how he shows people he loves them. He says it’s quality time, but I think it could be physical touch. He’s always touching people.”

“Jake is deflecting because his love language is physical touch,” Brock scowls. “I think I know my own love language, Tuna.”

“Hold on.” Unfortunately, you have to press the pause button on their discussion. “What options do we have?”

You’ve got no idea where they got this from, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re always down to share your opinion on stupid stuff with your favorite boys.

“There’s gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and…” Brock pauses, and you can nearly see the wheels in his head turning.

“Acts of service,” Quinn offers, which proves that he was actually paying attention.

“Mine is physical touch,” Jake says determinedly. “When I care about someone, I always wanna be touching them, and when I’m in love with someone that’s like twenty times worse.”

“Poor girl,” Quinn mutters, and the conversation gets paused in order for Jake to put Quinn in a headlock.

“I think yours is quality time, actually,” you tell Brock when Jake is done murdering the rookie. “Your ex was always on her phone during your date nights and I remember it drove you crazy.”

“See,” Brock says proudly. “Quality time baby. If I’m there I’m there.”

“What about yours, Huggy?” Jake asks. “Physical touch would make sense, since you’re called Huggy.”

“I’m not called Huggy,” Quinn deadpans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but you know him well enough to recognize the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminds you of Elias, when he does that. “And if we were going by nicknames your love language would be fishing.”

Everyone cracks up on that, and then the doorbell rings and Bo arrives.

The topic gets put on hold, then, because Bo is instantly talking about Gunnar’s first Christmas and Brock is talking about becoming an uncle again and you feel warm and happy on the couch with your wine, squeezed between Brock and Troy.

Until, a little later, you realize someone is missing.

“Where’s Petey?” you ask Troy. “Isn’t he coming?”

Troy shrugs. “Should do. But you never know with Pete.”

It’s not entirely true: if Elias promises he’ll be there, he will be there. But, to be fair, he usually doesn’t promise that to anyone but you, and you hadn’t asked him to come, this time.

You figured he just would.

“What about Petey’s love language?” Brock asks idly, not knowing he’s opening Pandora’s box for you. “Definitely not words of affirmation, huh.”

Troy laughs.

“Nah, Petey’s an acts of service guy. He’s always doing shit for Y/N.”

You would protest if you trusted your voice not to shake. As it is, you stay quiet and hope the flush on your cheeks gets mistaken for a wine flush, and not an Elias flush.

Brock brightens. “Oh, yeah! Getting her car fixed, making dinner, building her stupid bookshelf, feeding her cat… He is a typical acts of service guy.” He bumps against your shoulder playfully. “I hope you appreciate his showing of love, Y/N. He rarely does that shit for me.”

Troy snorts. “That’s cause he’s not in love with you, Boes.”

“He’s not in love with me either!” you squeak, unable to stay quiet any longer. You know if you don’t derail this trail of thought very soon, it’s gonna end badly for you.

Both Troy and Brock look unimpressed, at that statement.

“Yes, he is,” Brock says slowly, as if explaining something to an unruly child. “He drops whatever he has going on to do small things that make your life easier. That’s literally the same as him screaming I’m in love with you from the highest rooftop in Vancouver.”

“He’s not like you,” Troy continues, a little more gentle. “When people have different love languages, they don’t always understand what the other is trying to say. Your love language is words of affirmation. You’re always telling Petey how amazing he is. But he doesn’t see that as a declaration of love, or whatever. He thinks you tell everyone that they’re amazing.”

You do, to be fair, but not as often as you tell Elias. Because he’s…

Well. Amazing would be an understatement, actually. He’s everything to you.

Things are starting to make sense, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Suddenly, you start wondering if there’s more to his acts of service than plain friendship, or him being a good guy.

It’s not like he does stuff like that for all his friends. He helps them out, sure, but he always goes above and beyond for you, usually not even needing to be asked.

But he’s not in love with you, surely? He hasn’t said anything…

But maybe words aren’t his thing. Not like they are yours: the way you can’t stop yourself from gushing into Elias’ ear even when you know you should stop.

What if Brock and Troy are right?

You don’t get much time to think it through, because that’s when Elias finally appears in Troy’s living room, looking endlessly cool in his blue sweater, wearing his glasses. He’s sending death glares at Jake, who wolf whistles from the corner, but then his eyes meet yours and they soften.

“Hi there,” he smiles, reaching out to you. You immediately jump up and launch yourself at him, any previous conversation about the two of you momentarily forgotten as you curl your body into his, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Missed you,” you hum into his shoulder, and you’re rewarded with a grin you can feel against the skin of your neck.

“Are you sure hers isn’t physical touch?” you hear Brock ponder, and you would flip him off if you could be bothered.

You can’t. All you can be bothered doing is plastering yourself to Elias’ side and not leaving him alone even for a second, the rest of the night.

It works at least for a while, until he asks: “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” you say, not willing to part with him yet, and you ignore the knowing look Brock shoots you as the two of you find your way to the kitchen.

Elias immediately goes for the wine, because he knows you better than anyone else.

“I asked my dad about the job,” Elias mentions casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all. “He thinks he can get you an interview.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly your heart is ticking in your throat. Before he left for Sweden, Elias had mentioned that his dad knows a guy who works for a similar company as you’re working for now: apart from the shitty boss you have or the ridiculous low salary you get paid. It’s your job, but better, and Elias promised you he’d get his dad to ask if there were any open positions.

There were. And you sent in your application not thinking there was gonna come much from it, but now…

Something warm washes through your chest, like your heart grew three sizes. Of course he asked, of course he made it happen. Looking out for you, always and at any time, from any distance.

“It’s not a done deal,” Elias warns, oblivious to your mental breakdown. “But he said he thinks they’ll like you and he’ll put in a good word for you.”

You squeal and throw yourself in his direction once again. Elias laughs as he catches you, fingers curling in your hair where your face is pressed against his chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“It’s about time you get rid of that dumb job.” You can hear the frown in Elias’ voice. “They don’t take good care of you at all, it’s not good for you.” The distaste is obvious and it’s adorable. You pull away.

“I don’t need them to,” you say, carefully. You can still hear Brock’s words in your voice, and you figure it’s worth a try, probably. “Because you’re always there to take care of me.”

Elias’ cheeks darken substantially.

“I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elias.”

“You’d be fine,” Elias waves away the compliment as you figured he would. But this time you’re not backing down.

“Maybe I would be. But I wouldn’t be as happy.”

They say when you really love a person, you’ve got to show them. But you’ve never really known how to do that, instead you always use your words to tell them. But it seems like Elias isn’t believing you, not even now.

And you’ve got to fix that.

It’s not until you’re in Elias’ car on the way back home that you bring it up again. The party wasn’t really the time and place, but the conversation with Brock and the guys has been nagging in the back of your mind since it happened.

If you didn’t realize Elias’ acts of service meant something, maybe he doesn’t realize your words of affirmation mean something. And even if it doesn’t mean he’s in love with you – you’re really not that sure about that – you need him to at least know how much you appreciate him.

“You know I’m always there for you, right?” you start, carefully breaking the silence in the car. Elias shoots you a glance from behind the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Like, even if I’m maybe not as good as you are at realizing what you need me to do, if there’s ever anything I can do to help make your life a little easier or better I wanna do it. I’d do anything for you.”

It’s too honest, probably, and too much all at the same time. But Elias doesn’t look that surprised. In fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You make my life better by just being you, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wonder how you’re gonna get through this conversation. But it’s one that needs to be held, so you press on.

“What is your love language, Elias?”

Now he frowns. “Have you been talking to Brock?”

Of course Brock talked to Elias before he talked to you. The traitor.

You decide to ignore that, for now. You’ll talk to Brock later.

“You know my love language is words of affirmation, right?”

Elias shrugs. “Brock did say that, but I didn’t know what you thought it was.”

“And yours is acts of service,” you hazard a guess. You keep your eyes firmly on Elias’ face, which is the only reason you catch the slight change in his expression.

Like a wall, crossing over his features. He’s trying to protect himself, although you have no idea why. Does he not get where you’re going with this?

“I can tune it down if you want me to,” he says, a little grumpily. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, stubbornly refusing to look your way.

And oh God, he’s truly not getting it, and this is going the exact opposite way you want it to go.

Troy did say that when people’s love languages don’t match, they don’t understand what the other is trying to say. But you honestly don’t know how you can make it any more clear to Elias.

Well, except…

“I love you,” you blurt out. “Like, in love with you love you.”

The words ring loudly in the quiet car. For a second, nothing about Elias’ expression, almost like he didn’t hear you. You can almost feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Then, he pulls over the car.

It comes to a stop at the side of the road, two wheels on the pavement and two still on the road. It is, objectively, not super safe, but it’s also 3am and there’s no other cars to be seen. Very carefully, without looking at you still, Elias turns on the hazard lights.

And then finally, finally, he turns to you and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting it but it doesn’t really matter: it’s like your heart and head both light on fire, and everything outside of the car simply disappears. It’s just you and Elias, and his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

It feels right. Like it was always meant to end up like this.

After what feels like ages, he pulls away. He’s smiling, and his eyes are bright blue in the dark car.

“I thought you said those kinda things to everyone,” he admits, quietly. His thumb is rubbing your side, his eyes fixed on that spot. Almost as if he can’t really believe he’s allowed to do that.

You don’t want him to ever do anything else.

“I thought you did those kinda things for everyone,” you shoot back.

Elias raises one eyebrow. “That bookcase weighed at least 300 pounds.”

You can’t help it: giggles are escaping your lips and suddenly you’re both laughing. The tension in the car dissipates instantly, and suddenly it’s just Elias again, your best friend.

Your best friend that you’re now allowed to kiss. So you lean in and press your lips against his again.

After all, kissing is a love language you think everyone understands.

(+2)

“I’m home!” Elias’ voice sounds through the empty apartment, and you immediately leave your spot behind the kitchen counter to run into the hallway.

With a squeal, you fly towards him, and he catches you easily as you knew he would.

“Hey, babe,” he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss into your hair before returning the hug fully. “Is that my sweater?”

“Maybe,” you admit, as Elias’ hands make their way under his own blue sweater, that you definitely steal from him most evenings. “Missed you. And I’m very proud of you.”

“I missed you too,” he answers. “Watched the game?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it with your face still buried in his shoulder. “A hat trick, huh? I think that needs to be celebrated.”

“Oh?” Elias pulls away then, one eyebrow raised and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“Not like that,” you scold him, lightly punching his arm. “Or, maybe like that. But first, I made Kalops.”

At the mention of his favorite Swedish food, Elias’ face lights up. A while ago, you asked his mom for her recipe and it’s one of the only Swedish dishes you can make, but you make it well.

“Also,” you continue, as you take his hand and start leading him towards the kitchen, so he can sit at the counter while you cook as he always does, “I called the electrician so the TV is already fixed. I know you could have done it, but I decided I’d much rather use that time to hang out with you. I took Puck to get his shots at the vet and I also used my free afternoon to take your car through the car wash.”

When you reach the kitchen, you twirl around towards Elias and his arms immediately circle around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “But thank you. I love that you took the time to take care of that for me. And I love you.”

“Look at us,” you tease, lightly tugging at the ends of Elias’ hair. “Speaking each other’s love language like that.”

“Perfect couple,” Elias agrees, and you smile back at him.

Somehow, you and Elias managed to create a language of your own: one that you could speak with nobody else. But luckily, you don’t have to.

Cause he came home to your shared apartment like he always does, and well. That’s the biggest act of service he could do for you.

#elias pettersson #vancouver canucks #nhl fic #elias pettersson fic #elias petterson one shot #elias pettersson imagine #nhl writing

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Casual Ruin Pt. 5 (Elriel)

Elain's part of the Damnation series.

Last part! I know I said this would be 6/7 parts, but I realized I have no idea what the fuck I had planned to write in those parts, so it's 5 instead hahah. didn't edit the ending whoops

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

__________________________________________

~Elain~

It's three in the morning when I hear it.

We're laying in bed, and even though I should asleep like the man next to me, I can't stop thinking about how little time we have left.

How has the past month gone by so fast?

It feels like yesterday I was standing on my stoop, watching Azriel open up and tell me things he's since admitted he's never told another person.

It feels like yesterday since I decided that I care for him more than I care about what he does.

But it wasn't yesterday; it was a month ago.

A month that's been filled with dinner dates, soft smiles, laughter, and enough tender moments my heart feels full. He's a

The plane ticket hidden in the bottom of my purse is a constant reminder that this is just a summer fling, that it isn't supposed to mean anything. Two weeks from now, I'm supposed to get on that flight and never look back.

Except it feels impossible.

It broke my heart when I walked away from him a month ago, and that was before he told me the details of his life.

Now I know him.

I know about the way he smiles in the morning and how he shakes his head when he laughs, like he can't believe he's doing so. I've learned how ticklish his ribs are, how he likes his coffee, his favorite type of cigarettes.

I know about his family, how his mother died giving birth to him and his father resented him from the day it happened. I know about the first man he killed, how it made him sick. I know what his tattoos really mean.

And what I never could've expected is that everything I've learned, the good and the bad, have tied me to him in a way that feels permanent.

How am I supposed to just walk away from that?

The thought of never seeing his smile, never feeling his rough hands cup my face with a gentleness he doesn't show the world... it feels like missing a part of me.

And it worries me enough I haven't been able to sleep for the past two nights. Like I'm incapable of wasting a minute, I spend the nights watching him sleep.

Which is why I'm perfectly awake when he pulls me close in his sleep and whispers two words that ruin me.

Ti amo.

Tears well in my eyes as I stay perfectly still, replaying the moment over and over.

He loves me.

It's something I knew--something we both probably knew--ever since that day in the rain, but I think we both never said it because we knew our time is limited.

It's been in every touch, every kiss, every moment where we get caught up just staring at each other.

But I want to tell him, I have to tell him, because however good it makes me feel to hear that from him... I know he needs it more.

He's never been loved--never been anyone's first choice, but he's mine, and I want him to know. And I don't want to be just one more person that leaves him and makes him wondering if he'll ever be enough.

So I start to plan.

~A week later, Azriel~

Well, the worst has happened.

I love the fucking woman.

Now my biggest weakness now walks outside my body, with soft brown eyes and dirty blonde hair and bright smiles that light up the world.

And she's leaving in a week.

It scares the shit out of me.

She scares the shit out of me.

Honestly, I hadn't even realized I was in so deep until she said the words "We're done."

All I remember about that day is feeling I'd been stabbed in the chest and looking down to find the blade but not seeing anything but my own hands.

One moment I was convinced I was dying, the next I was in front of her on her stoop, telling her shit I've never told a living soul.

It wasn't then that I realized I love her, but that was when I realized something maybe even more important. I trust her.

Rule 3's been thrown out the window, and I don't even remember when it happened. Was it when she told me I'm not a monster? Or the first time I noticed the way her lips turn up every time I tell her she's beautiful?

Or maybe it was the first time I laid eyes on her as she stumbled into that opera booth, looking like everything I never knew I wanted.

Either way, I'm about a mile up shit's creek with no fucking paddle.

I trust her, love her, and I've only known her ten weeks. Which reminds me, she's leaving.

Which is irritating, because while the mere thought of watching her leave makes me want to level a building, she's currently acting like nothing's wrong.

She's in the bathroom, putting on red lipstick in a slow, taunting way that makes me want to mess it up. I'm sitting in the chair next to my bed, trying to stay calm.

She's watching me watch her in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine for a split second before she looks away, making me suspicious.

That look... I've seen that look before, more times than I can count.

But never from her.

It's a secret.

She looks like she's hiding something.

"Something you need to tell me?" I ask, putting a hand behind my head to prop it up.

Nodding, she comes to stand at the foot of the bed. "Yep."

I raise a brow. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you tonight if you meet me for dinner."

Suspicion and curiosity make me ask, "Where?"

"La Rosa," she responds casually, making me narrow my eyes. It's outside of the city a bit, a small place on the coast I've never had an interest in owning or visiting.

"I've never been there."

"New experiences are good for the soul," she quips, sliding on her sandals. "Just say you'll meet me."

There's a hint of nerves in her voice, so I say, "Of course, dolce mia."

She smiles, victorious. Then she's bounding over, taking my face between her palms, and pressing her mouth to mine.

Before I can ask what she's up to, she's out the door, calling over her shoulder, "Seven o'clock! I'll meet you there."

I get up and slide my jacket on, slipping my hand in the pocket and toying with the piece of metal I've been carrying around for a month.

Sighing, I take it out and throw it on the counter, knowing that if this life has taught me one thing, it's that it won't make a difference.

When seven o'clock rolls around, I'm seated at a table, frowning at my surroundings.

I've definitely never been here.

No man has, I'm willing to bet. At least not on his own volition.

There are flowers everywhere. Spilling out of vases, growing on the vines surrounding the open windows, lining the doors that are open to the patio out back.

Besides that, I guess the place isn't too bad, actually. The lights are soft, the weather's nice, and by the smells coming from tables around me, the food will be good.

Elain's running a few minutes late, but she called and told me to go ahead and order.

Apparently, she's come here before, because she told me what to order her. Odd.

A few minutes after I relay the information to the waitress, I spot her coming in the front door and wave her over.

She's a little flushed, her eyes are bright, and the smile on her face gives no doubt she's excited.

I stand up when she reaches me, kiss her, then ask, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she says too quickly. "Did you order?"

"Yeah. Have you been here before or something?"

She nods, diverting her eyes down and to the right in the classic tell of a lie.

I sigh, frustration getting the better of me. "Elain, what are you hiding from me?"

Before she can answer, the food comes. Two plates of pasta are set in front of us, and I know instantly I was right about the food being good.

But no matter how good it looks, there's only one thing on my mind.

"Elain."

She waves a hand. "Just eat, Azriel. I promise I'll tell you in like five minutes."

"Why not just tell me now?"

"It's more dramatic this way," she explains, making me sigh again.

Women.

She's going to give me a fucking heart attack with her drama.

A little aggressively, I stab the fork in the pasta, taking a huge bite.

I feel her eyes on me, watching me eat, but I act like I don't notice, mentally counting down the seconds until five minutes is up.

I'm at 263 when she asks, "Do you like it?"

"What?"

Rolling her eyes, she gestures to the plate in front of me. "Do you like it?"

"It's good," I reply honestly, a little surprised. I've lived here long enough to know the best places to eat, and I've never heard more than a decent review about this place.

"I'm glad," she says, full lips tilting up. "Since I made it."

I don't get it. Did she bring it with her? Is that why she was late?

Also, why did we come to a restaurant if she was going to cook?

"What? Why?"

She tilts her head, smile growing.

Right as my still-counting subconscious gets to five minutes, she explains, "Because I work here."

~Elain~

He stares at me, bite of pasta halfway between his mouth and the plate.

I've been almost bursting at the seems the past four days trying to keep the secret.

I mean, given what the man does for a living, I didn't think I'd make it more than an hour. And while he's definitely been suspicious, I made it.

"What?" he finally asks, dark brows furrowing as he leans in.

"I have a lot to say," I tell him. "So don't interrupt me."

His eyes narrow like they always do when I tell him what to do, but I ignore it and start listing off the different secrets I've been keeping.

I start with the most important.

"First, I love you."

The fork clangs against the plate as he drops it.

I smile, biting my lip and trying not to cry at the look on his face.

"I think I have since that first night when we danced in the bar. Or maybe when you took me to the beach. I don't know." Taking a deep breath, I say, "I tried to stop, when I found out... everything. But it was useless, because I was as in love with you then as I am now."

He shakes his head, almost like he's panicked, but I keep going.

"I love you, Azriel. I want to be with you more than I've ever wanted anything. And I can't bear the thought of leaving you. I don't want to."

Gesturing around us, I say, "I got a job here, and my landlord said she can draw up a lease. And before you say anything, I'm not giving anything up. The past months have felt like paradise, and I love it here. I liked my job in New York, but it wasn't anything I'll miss."

His eyes are so wide, it'd be a little funny if I wasn't so serious.

I take a sip of wine and try to puta brave face on. A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to say, "But we never talked about anything long term, so if this isn't what you want... I'll go. I promise. I just wanted you to know that you're... it for me. You're everything to me. I choose you."

He shudders, closing his eyes, and I take in how tight his jaw is, how close he seems to coming unraveled.

Is he freaking out? I definitely am.

After a few moments, I realize he's still waiting on me, so I laugh and say, "You can talk now."

He doesn't.

He just opens his eyes and stares at me, the shock in his gaze clear to read.

Nerves blossom. I was so sure he'd be happy, but maybe he isn't ready. Voice turning shaky, I ask, "Is this what you want?"

Slowly, he shakes his head, but before I can panic, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, holding it out between us. "I want you to live with me, not at the townhouse."

All the nerves fly out the door, and I laugh, not quite able to believe it.

How long has he been carrying this around?

The tears finally spilling over as I take the key from him. "Okay."

He brushes my cheeks off with his thumb, looking at me like he's never seen anything more beautiful.

Azriel's quiet for a moment, and I give him time, knowing that whatever he wants to say is hard for him.

"Ti amo. Mi spaventa così tanto."

I love you. So much is scares me.

"You? Scared? I don't believe it."

I'm trying to joke and lighten the mood, but he's completely serious as he shakes his head, cupping my jaw with his hand. "You scare the shit out of me, Elain."

My heart clenches, and I fight a fresh wave of tears as I lean into his touch. "You scare me, too."

"But you're not leaving."

It's said like a hopeful promise, like something he needs to hear again and again to accept it's true.

I shake my head. "I'm not leaving," I whisper.

He finally smiles, that big smile I'm positive he only gives me, and leans over the table to kiss me softly. "Say it again."

"I love you."

He kisses me again, and I slide my hands in his hair and kiss him back, feeling like everything before now has led up to this. He's the grand finale, the one I didn't know I was waiting for.

I pull back a little, just far enough to see his reaction as I whisper, "Meet me in the bathroom."

His eyes flare and his mouth drops open, and I laugh as I get up from my seat and try to walk nonchalantly towards the back.

This hadn't been part of the plan, but I've told him I love him, and now... I want to prove it.

Plus, I don't know what it is about him, but he feeds the adventurous side of me like nothing else.

I can feel him watching me from the table as I make my way across the restaurant.

Thankfully, the place is busy tonight, so I don't think anyone notices when, as soon as I shut the bathroom door, he rises to follow me.

A moment later, he slips in with me, taking in the dim lights, closed stall, low music. He flips the lock, and it's like it snaps the thread between us, descending us into chaos.

He's on me in a second, arms wrapping around me and lifting me. My legs bracket his hips as he pushes me up against the wall and traps my hands above my head.

"Say it again," he demands breathlessly, eyes bright and full of heat.

I nip his lower lip, then kiss it softly. "I love you, Azriel."

His mouth crashes into mine, unrestrained and demanding and deep enough I lose myself in him.

My hands are in his hair, his are pushing up the hem of my dress.

There's a brief moment of adjusting, and then he's easing into me. His eyes are on me, his lips are parted, and as I tighten around him, he makes a deep rumbling sound. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

"You're mine," I tell him, tilting my hips to take him deeper. "And I'm yours."

He shudders, eyes going black. "You're mine."

His hips claim mine, then, pulling out and thrusting back in, moving me up the wall. I tighten my fingers in his hair as he hits a spot deep inside me, and he groans.

Moving his hands to my hips, he brings me down as he thrusts up, and I moan, then slap a hand over my mouth.

I work here, for God's sake.

"This is not very professional," I mutter, smiling when his lips twitch.

"No," he agrees, thrusting into me harder. "And it's definitely inappropriate."

I clamp my lips together, pressing my hand to my mouth again to stifle the involuntary whimper I let out.

Azriel grins, tugging on my earlobe with his teeth and whispering, "You might need to go to confessional again."

Rolling my eyes, I move my hands to his shoulders, then lean in to lick up the column of his neck. "Between the two of us, I'd say you're more likely to end up on your knees tonight."

He laughs, tugging my head back to kiss me again. His tongue meets mine in a wet, deep slide that makes me shiver. His hips brush mine. His hands hold me just right, keeping me against him.

Pulling back, he brushes his lips over mine and whispers, "I love you."

The easy, conversational pace is abandoned, and we're moving harder against each other, the only sounds our labored breathing and muffled moans.

He brings a hand to cover my mouth, and I cover his with mine, and we're in tandem, both of us lost in the other.

He comes when I do, driving deeply into me and stilling, his head buried in my neck.

We spend a while like that, and when I eventually slide down the wall, we take our time adjusting our clothes. He keeps stopping me to kiss my shoulder or brow, and I waste too much time just looking at him.

When we're both ready, he extends a hand and grins. "Let's go home."

I smile, unable to help it. "Let's go home."

_____________________________________________

Thank you for reading! This is the last part, although I might do an epilogue one day (don't hold your breath lol).

Send me asks if you have em :)

@elorcan-trash @sweetdaisybell @anyblinding @acreativelydifferentlove @loosingdreams @poisonous00 @januarystears @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @thedarkdemigod @full-tilt-diva @biggestwingspan-az @bookstantrash @mari-highladyof-feels @pilesofriles @bamchickawowow @teddytdr @perseusannabeth @shinya-hiiragi @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @autophobiax @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acotar #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #elain x azriel #azriel #a court of thorns and roses

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong End of the Ithilien Stick (Legolas x Reader)

Requested by: @elvish-sky

could i request a legolas x reader with angst- like she misheard something he said and they have a falling out- but with a happy ending?

A/N: Here you are!! Hope you enjoy :) bon appetit ☀️

They were hopeless – completely, and utterly hopeless. Most who wished to court did so at the first few stolen glances, but not Y/n and Legolas.

Apparently, a year’s worth of peril on the road did nothing to invoke revelations. The Fellowship journey may have introduced them to one another, but it did nothing to bring them together. No, that was entirely up to them – the worst two to be left in charge of their own romantic fates.

Although, that’s not to say they entirely went their separate ways in the aftermath. Y/n had stayed behind with Legolas, in Ithilien, where they sought to restore the trees.

The whole process was full of cleared throats, deep blushes and shy smiles. Gimli, on the occasions he would visit, rolled his eyes, and groaned aloud.

“Ye still on yer dove dancing, are ye?” he taunted one day.

However, all the pair could do, was look away from one another. Y/n simply felt herself too inferior to his royal status, as to make the first move. Legolas, on the other hand, felt himself too high maintenance to even begin asking her if she minded his princely upbringing.

It was a vicious cycle, but one the four Hobbits sought to destroy, following their next visit.

“So, we are all aware of our roles?” Frodo asked, as the four friends strolled across a wooden bridge, and into the Ithilien forest.

Frodo had enjoyed the distraction, and appreciated the time away from his cooped-up desk greatly. Any chance to rid himself of the journey’s memories, was a chance he’d take.

“Aye!” Pippin confirmed. “Merry and I are tackling Y/n, and you and Sam will handle Legolas.”

“By nightfall, those two will be married!” Merry agreed, nodding resolutely.

However, stifling the Hobbits’ laughter, Y/n and Legolas appeared from nowhere – greeting them by the creek’s bank.

“Who’s getting married by nightfall?” Y/n sweetly asked, squinting under the bright morning sun.

“I don’t mind a wedding,” Legolas added on, smiling down at Y/n. “If it’s someone we know, perhaps we ought to go. Could borrow some cake?”

“I don’t think they’ll be wanting it back, somehow,” Y/n laughed, sharing the Elf’s smile.

Watching as they grinned brightly, and laughed together, the four Hobbits nervously looked at one another.

Oh, how desperately they needed their plan to work. Y/n would shrivel from mortality, before they even had a chance to marry themselves!

“Alas, we’re being rude,” Y/n dismissed, immediately moving forwards to hug all her friends. “It’s been so long since our last visit to the Shire! We’ve missed you all so much!”

“Likewise,” Sam warmly replied, hugging her tight. “We quite enjoyed the trek on over here too.”

“Oh, really?” Y/n excitedly asked, pulling back. “Legolas and I have been working on the trail leading in all year! We finally managed to grow the petunias you sent over as well.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Frodo smiled, now walking in tow with the girl and Elf, as they led them away. “So…speaking of news, has anything as of late occurred in Ithilien? Any news of courtship, perhaps?”

“From whom?” Legolas tightly asked, not at all liking Frodo’s sly connotation.

“Oh, no one in particular,” he lied, sharing a smile with the other Hobbits.

“Of course…” Legolas dismissed, nonetheless answering, as he walked through the botanical gardens. “Well, not to our knowledge, no…oh, but a wonderful pair of deer mated recently! We are expecting fawns any season now.”

“So are we,” Merry grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Having heard, with his Elven hearing, what the Hobbit said, Legolas confusedly glanced over his shoulder. Nonetheless, he merely only creased his features, before stealing a glance at Y/n. He then looked back up front, as they pressed on walking.

“Well, there is much ground to cover,” Legolas changed the topic, glancing up at the glittering trees. “We ought to start here first, so that we can make it back in time to-“

“Actually, Legolas,” Frodo interjected, coming to a halt, and causing the others to do the same, “we were thinking, on the way over here, that we ought to maybe split the group in half, so that we might finish earlier this time?”

Blinking down at the Hobbit, Y/n and Legolas knitted their brows. They then unsteadily looked between one another, before Y/n herself piped up again.

“Uh, sure…we can do that,” she said. “Any reason why, though?”

“Well, we do want to see your restoration project, and permaculture,” Merry began answering, chewing on the end of his pipe, “but, we’d prefer to spend some time with just you two as well. You know, at dinner and such. Don’t forget, we need supper as well.”

Looking between one another once more, and silently communicating, the two taller friends discreetly shrugged.

“Very well,” Legolas sighed, returning his attention to the Hobbits. “Frodo and Sam, you two can come with me. Merry and Pippin, you join Y/n. Oh, and Merry? Discard the pipe – there’s no smoking in Ithilien.”

Upholding both palms in surrender, Merry tucked the pipe away. As he and Pippin began following after Y/n, they both shared a sneaky grin with Frodo and Sam. They each all resolutely nodded at one another, before turning around to face back up front.

“Oh! Oh! Look!” Y/n excitedly pointed out.

Looking upwards, both Merry and Pippin observed a courting pair of bluebirds. They flew around one another, and landed in a little brown nest, high up in a tree.

Grinning brightly, Y/n breathed in the soft spring air.

“Oh, don’t you just love this time of year?” she wistfully sighed. “The courting animals, the romantic lighting, the little boats on the lake-“

“THAT’S IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Merry exclaimed. He clamped his ears tight, with both hands, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Merry?” Y/n asked in concern, swiftly turning around to observe him. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s WRONG?” Merry seethed, finally re-meeting her eyes. “YOU ARE, Y/N, THAT’S WHAT!”

“I beg your pardon?” Y/n bit back, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. “What did I do?”

“It’s more like what you haven’t done,” Pippin elaborated, ever-so-casually. “Actually, both you and Legolas, to be perfectly candid.”

Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, Y/n stammered over her words.

“I-I don’t understand-“ she tried to say.

“Yes, you do,” Merry interjected, using a series of hand gestures to further his point. “You like him. He likes you. It’s been like this since Rivendell – BEFORE we all set out for Mordor, mind you! Somehow, destroying that little ring was easier than getting you two to admit your feelings!”

Y/n was at a loss for words. Had it all really been that obvious?

“Yes, it really has been that obvious,” Merry piped up again, apparently having read her mind.

Slumping her shoulders, Y/n ran a hand along her face, and complained.

“This is really humiliating…” she said. “Do you think Legolas knows too?”

“Y/n, not to alarm you, but I’m pretty sure all of Arda knows,” Pippin winced.

Finding a park bench, Y/n sat herself down in a flush, and groaned.

“Well, whatever am I to do?” she asked, as her two friends each took a seat beside her. “I ought to tell him, I know that much, but I just simply cannot muster the courage.”

“Y/n, I’ve seen you slowly decapitate an orc’s head with a picnic knife,” Merry deadpanned, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I think you can handle telling your one true love how you really feel.”

Rolling her eyes at his choice of cheesy words, Y/n soon reeled them into her lap, where she picked at her thumbnail.

“Aye, that is true, but…” she pressed on, “well, look at me, guys. I’m a commoner, and no amount of true love is going to change that. He’s a prince, at the end of the day…what would everyone think?”

“What does it matter what everyone thinks?” Pippin encouraged, holding her other shoulder. “We, the Fellowship survivors, know above all else just how short life is. You can’t spend it worrying about what others will make of your happiness.”

Seeing the cogs turn in her mind, Merry squeezed her shoulder harder, and urged her to look at him.

“You love him, Y/n…you can’t delay any longer,” he said.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Y/n creased her brows. It was true, she loved him, more than anything else. Why should she deny herself that, based purely on what others would think?

“You know something? You’re right!” she resolutely declared. She stood upwards quickly, and squared her shoulders. “I love him, and I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks of my status! I’m going to tell him – today!”

Whooping and hollering, Merry and Pippin also both jumped to their feet. They pushed her along, as she began jogging away, to where she knew Legolas would be.

“That’s the spirit, friend!” Pippin cheered. “Go and tell him! And please make the cake red velvet at the wedding!”

Waving over her shoulder with a grin, Y/n pushed her legs faster, as to find Legolas, and finally reveal her heart to him.

~ In the botanical greenhouse, Legolas, Sam and Frodo all stood around – inspecting the many different pot plants.

“And this one is a young fern,” Legolas explained, holding a tiny plant up high. “I grew it myself from a seedling. I’m hoping it’ll soon have sprouts of its own, and raise a family, and-“

“Oh my goodness…” Sam sighed, folding his arms, and shaking his head. “You really are hopeless, you know that, right?”

“Pardon?” Legolas confusedly asked, lifting his eyes from the fern. “My apologies…if you do not like ferns, I could show you the-“

“Legolas…I think you ought to sit down for a moment,” Frodo interjected, gesturing to a wooden chair in the middle of the greenhouse.

Furrowing his brows, Legolas warily glanced between the two Hobbits. They stood in front of the chair, and folded their arms – very serious, indeed.

Slowly, Legolas made his way on over towards the chair, and sat down.

Instantly, the two Hobbits closed the greenhouse curtains all around, save for one. The only window left open served one ray of sun, which purely basked Legolas, and Legolas only, as if he were under an interrogation spotlight.

Squinting his eyes, and craning his head to move out of the light, Legolas spoke.

“Is the chair really necessary-“ he tried to say.

“Right, let’s cut to the chase,” Sam interjected, standing in front of Legolas with Frodo. “Y/n. You like her. She likes you. Now, why haven’t you courted her, and made beautiful children yet?”

Staring wide-eyed for a moment, Legolas parted his lips. However, swift in his archer’s mind, he soon sighed. Next, slumping his shoulders, Legolas responded.

“I suppose I haven’t been as discreet in my fondness as previously thought…” he mused.

“Not in the slightest,” Sam and Frodo said at once.

Twitching his lips to one side, Frodo softly stared down at his friend, and pressed on.

“Legolas…why haven’t you told her of how you feel yet?” he asked.

Lifting his eyes, and wincing them, Legolas considered his thoughts. He knew how much Y/n enjoyed her freedom, and he knew how restricting a royal life could be. He loved Y/n enough to not impose such a confining lifestyle on her – that was why he held back.

Exhaling again, Legolas knew he could no longer hide his feelings from his friends, and responded.

At the same time, just outside of the greenhouse, Y/n ran up to the door. Stumped for a moment, as to why the curtains were all drawn back, she nonetheless moved closer. However, upon hearing muffled voices on the other side, speaking of her in particular, she halted, and listened in.

“Are you jesting, Frodo? She’s a commoner,” Legolas said in frustration, shocking the girl outside. “Y/n and formalities simply do not mix. How could anyone ever love someone so different from themselves? Nay…I wouldn’t brew that situation.”

Having stumbled backwards in hurt, Y/n felt tears prick at her eyes. She raised both hands, and held them over her chest.

Before she could freely cry, she turned on her heel, and ran away. However, as she did so, she failed to hear the end of Legolas’ sentence, which defined the entire context.

“That’s why I can’t marry Y/n…she deserves better than what I could give her,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish for someone so free to be tied down to someone like me...I’m far too different from her.”

“Does Y/n not also get a say in the matter?” Frodo sincerely asked, studying his friend apologetically. “Y/n loves you, Legolas…you ought to at least give your courtship a chance, regardless of formalities.”

“Aye, Frodo is right,” Sam added on, nodding at his raven-haired friend. “You ought to at least speak to her. It can’t hurt…well, it can, but you’ll never know until you try.”

Sucking on his lower lip, Legolas knitted his brows. He considered his friends’ words, and mulled them over. It was true, he loved Y/n, and he was almost certain she him. Perhaps Frodo and Sam were right – simply talking couldn’t do much harm, could it?

Nodding his head, Legolas met the Hobbits’ eyes again.

“Aye,” he agreed at last. “You’re right, I ought to at least ask her!”

Swiftly standing, Legolas moved out from the chair, and headed towards the greenhouse door.

“We’re proud of you!” Sam cheered, giving a mighty few claps of his hands.

“Good luck,” Frodo smiled, nodding at his friend.

Nodding back once, Legolas beamed bright, and headed outside.

Having run away far enough, Y/n now trekked angrily through the forest. Her jaw was set, and her eyes burning. How could he be so nice to her face, only to say such horrible things behind her back? She cared not, for she would maintain the entire other side of Ithilien, from now on.

She, a commoner, would not dare stay with someone who cares so little for her. However, she soon heard a bright voice calling from behind. Turning around, she spotted Legolas swiftly jogging towards her.

“Y/n!” he called, wearing an excited smile.

The moment he jogged up to her, Y/n grew cold in her stance. She revered him with distrust, and anger.

This did not go unnoticed by Legolas, whose features dropped, and his mind wiped. He now sought to ensure she herself was okay.

“Are you alright?” he sincerely asked, brimming with concern.

Laughable, Y/n thought. How dare he pretend to care – right to her face as well!

“Never been better,” Y/n seethed, turning on her heel.

Stammering over his words for a minute, Legolas shook the odd mood in the air away. He followed after her, and shyly spoke – though, his words were hasty.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he began. However, Y/n wanted none of it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, your highness!” Y/n snapped, turning around once more, and angrily pointing at him. “I heard enough earlier.”

“You heard what I said?” Legolas repeated in horror, suddenly feeling his palms grow clammy – for more than one reason.

“Every last word,” Y/n replied, glaring across at the Elf.

Shocked by her attitude, Legolas was simply at a loss. He shook his head at the ground in confusion, and spoke.

“I-I thought you would have understood?” he said, lifting his puzzled eyes once more.

“Oh, I understand!” Y/n sarcastically started, rolling her eyes. “Just like you said yourself; how could anyone love someone so different?”

Truly hurt by her words, Legolas parted his lips. His eyes brimmed in anguish, as all his hopes were suddenly stomped on, and buried beneath the dirt.

“But…I thought that wouldn’t matter to you?” he said in a small voice.

“Yeah, well…I guess you thought wrong,” Y/n replied, scrunching her nose in disdain.

Turning on her heels, Y/n stalked away. Where she was heading? She didn’t know – all she knew, is that she could find some better and more loyal company, with just herself.

Left alone, Legolas stood in silence. What had just happened? She truly did not wish to court him, purely because of his royal status? Very well, then – he could do just as fine by himself.

Matching her anger, Legolas too stalked away, but in the opposite direction.

Sat down in the grass, and enjoying a picnic by the lake, Frodo and Sam basked in each other’s company. Merry and Pippin were off who knows where, and doing God knows what. However, all tranquillity soon came to an end, the moment a furious Y/n stomped past.

Staring between one another, and blinking in confusion, the two Hobbits quickly dropped their sandwiches. They rose swiftly, and chased after her.

“Hey! Hey, Y/n!” Frodo called, jogging to meet with her. “Have you found Legolas yet? There’s something you need to know. We spoke earlier, and-“

“Yes, I know you all talked earlier,” Y/n snapped, now recalling exactly whom Legolas spoke with before. She halted, and glared down at the two friends. “You’re all very good comrades, aren’t you? Well, if you are all such good brothers in arms, how about you go find him instead, and leave me alone?”

Noticing that she made a move to stalk away again, along the edge of the glistening lake, both Frodo and Sam confusedly looked between one another once more.

“I beg your pardon, Y/n,” Sam tentatively spoke up, watching her leave, “but I think you may have the wrong end of the stick here?”

“Oh, no, I think I have the exact right idea,” Y/n seethed, rolling her eyes. “I hope you all had a lovely time, speaking about me behind my back – and just a commoner? Really? We can’t all be from Bag End, Frodo.”

Confused, but only for a moment, the context suddenly clicked in Frodo’s mind. Racing forwards, he held Y/n’s hand, and kept her in place.

“Wait! You DEFINITELY have the wrong idea!” he exclaimed. “I know what you’re angry about, but you have to listen! He wasn’t talking about you in that regard – he was referencing his distress over taking you from your farming life, and placing you in royal formalities!”

“What are you talking about-“ Y/n had gone to say, with a yank of her hand out of his. However, Frodo’s words quickly met her mind, and ceased her tongue.

Oh.

Well, now that made more sense.

Feeling a wave of shame wash over her, Y/n bared her teeth in cringe, and winced her features.

“Oh my…” was all she could say.

A little further off, but still heading towards the lake, and Legolas could be found in the same situation – however, only a few steps behind.

“You all come into our home, and plant ideas in our heads,” Legolas seethed, striding away from Merry and Pippin, “only to leave poisonous weeds instead! I don’t know what you’ve all done behind the scenes, but you’ve certainly made nothing better since your arrival!”

“Please, Legolas! Just tell us what happened!” Merry begged, struggling to keep up.

“Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I don’t know!” Legolas exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “One minute, the last time I was with Y/n, mind you, and we were happy! But the second I see her again, after she spent her morning with you two, and she turns like the tide on a wintery day!”

“That just doesn’t make any sense…” Pippin whispered, creasing his brows. “When she left us, she was on her way to tell you all about how much she wished to court you, and-“

Halting in his tracks, Legolas paused. Snapping his head over his shoulder, the Elf questioned the Hobbit, who quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“What?” he pressed. “What do you mean she was coming to tell me of courting?”

Looking between one another, Merry and Pippin sheepishly bared their teeth. Figuring the cat was already out of the bag, Merry turned back first, and revealed their agenda.

“Well, we somewhat…nudged…Y/n, to tell you of her love for you,” he said. “Last time we saw her, like I said, she went to find you in the greenhouse.”

Knitting his brows, and mulling the new bouts of information over, Legolas responded through a confused shake of his head.

“But that just doesn’t make any sense,” Legolas continued. “What could have soured her perception, from her journey between you, and the greenhouse-“

The greenhouse.

Oh.

Having caught his own words, Legolas immediately knew what went wrong. She had thought him to be insulting her status, and he thought her to be rejecting his.

Running a hand over his face, Legolas growled in frustration. Why must love be so hard? Surely, beyond courting, marriage and children, things would be easier, would they not? Well, Legolas wasn’t so certain he’d find out now – not unless he tracked down Y/n in time, before their rift planted roots too deep.

“I need to find her,” Legolas frantically began, looking all around himself. “I have no idea where she’d be – she could be on the other side of the forest, for all I know!”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Merry interjected, staring behind Legolas with Pippin.

“How would you know?” Legolas confusedly asked, though, his frustration edged his tone.

“Just a hunch,” Merry said again, pointing behind the prince.

Looking over his shoulder, Legolas’ formerly hardened features softened. Y/n stood in the near distance behind him, and anxiously stared in his direction – like a deer caught in the headlights. She chewed on her lower lip nervously, and waited by the lapping water’s edge.

Catching both Frodo and Sam’s eye, Merry and Pippin each awkwardly began stepping away, as did the other two Hobbits.

“Okay, we’re just, uh…gonna go now, yeah…good luck,” Merry said, dragging his younger cousin away.

Swallowing his nerves, Legolas suddenly felt his knees buckle, and his palms grow clammy. Nonetheless, if he was old enough to court, then he was old enough to resolve relationship issues.

Breathing in a shaky breath, and releasing it through pursed lips, Legolas forced his feet across the grass, to where Y/n stood.

Feeling her own heart hammer, and sweat cling to her temples, Y/n shifted on her feet. She frequently looked between an approaching Legolas, and the lake beside her. Was love meant to be this scary? Would it always be like this? Or was this the end?

She figured she would soon find out, for the prince now stood before her.

Both said nothing. Instead, they merely stole glances, like so many times before, and looked at the rippling lake.

The sun basked them in a warm glow, and the wind blowing through the leaves nearby met their ears. Soon, however, a chilly afternoon breeze rolled through, and darkened the sky overhead.

With a shiver, Y/n wrapped her arms around her form. She rubbed up and down, as to bring the warmth back. She hadn’t been wearing a cloak that day, for she figured she needed none. This was, of course, against Legolas’ advisement earlier that morning.

Sensing her cold, Legolas finally studied her again. With a sigh past his nose, he shed his own cloak. Next, stepping forwards, and accelerating both her heartrate and his, he wrapped the green material around her shoulders.

Immediately, the cold of the world was blocked out. It even appeared as though the sun above had made a comeback – breaking through the otherwise grey clouds.

He held her shoulders, as he adjusted the cloak, and secured it over her form. Y/n watched his features, as they creased in both concentration, and consideration.

“Why would you do that?” Y/n asked, after a moment of quiet study – breaking the silence finally. “Won’t you now be cold?”

Although he did not feel the cold the same way she did, Legolas used the moment as an advantage – a hoist to deliver his most inner thoughts, in a way.

“Perhaps, but…I’d prefer you to be warm,” he said, having initially jolted at her sudden words.

“Why?” Y/n tightly asked. She knew why, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Swallowing down his nerves, Legolas slowly met her eyes. They brimmed with nerves, but also adoration – a combination of which Y/n shared. However, hers also bore eagerness, and anticipation.

“Because…” he began in a small voice, swallowing once more. “I…I, uh-“

“Yes?” Y/n whispered, leaning in closer.

Sighing, Legolas buried his nerves away, and did the most un-Elven thing possible. He swept Y/n into a tight embrace, and hugged her warmly.

Shocked for a minute, Y/n widened her eyes. However, she soon melted into his touch, and hugged him back.

“Because, I believe a partner should ensure theirs is okay,” Legolas finally revealed.

“Partner?” Y/n repeated, in a very small voice. “And by partner…you mean?”

“Someone I love dearly, and care about most ardently,” he softly replied, kissing the top of her head.

Stunned by his small gesture for a moment, butterflies fluttered in Y/n’s stomach. She then hid said nerves with humour.

“Well…that is definitely hard to misinterpret,” Y/n attempted to joke. However, her joy overwhelmed her, and she squeezed the prince harder. “If it’s any consolation, I love you too…and I’m sorry for my brash behaviour earlier.”

“Aye, I am as well,” Legolas grinned, swaying her in the sun. “So…this may perhaps be an ambitious request, but…will you court me? Royal status and all?”

“Of course,” Y/n grinned back. “But, will you court me, commoner status and all?”

Smiling brighter, and closing his eyes contently, Legolas continued on hugging the girl by the shore. He then softly answered, whilst the sun basked them both in a placid glow – perhaps a tell-tale of the many good days to come.

“Without question,” he said at last.

#lotr #lord of the rings #Legolas #Legolas x reader #x reader #lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #fanfic #angst

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swiftiesimonriley · 4 years ago

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hurts like heaven (divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader)

divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader, silver linings playbook! au

rating: teen (I guess), no explicit content except for drug use

warnings: depictions and descriptions of drug use (if this makes you uncomfortable you may want to skip this one), mentions of divorce and custody battles, mention of time spent in an inpatient behavioral health setting

word count: 3.9k (WHOOPS i got excited)

a/n: I am so excited for my first frankie oneshot!! thank you so much to @hailmary-yramliah for this request, I hope you like it!! here is my masterlist, and if you have any requests you can send me an ask! also credit to @hunterschafer for the beautiful frankie gif!!

"Mr. Morales, after a thorough review of the details of this case, including but not limited to testimonies of your close friends and NA sponsor, revision of your record, and speaking with the judge who oversaw the suspension of your pilot's license, I have come to the conclusion that you are currently unfit to have full custody of your daughter. I am hereby granting full custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales to her biological mother."

The minute Francisco Morales hears the words of the family court judge before him ruling in favor of his now ex-wife, he nearly passes out.

The former Delta Force soldier vaguely heard the protests of Pope, who is the only person sitting within the rows of seats on the side of the courtroom where he currently resides. He doesn't register his lawyer uttering a half-assed apology or even the cheers from his ex-wife and her family on the other side of the room.

All he hears is white noise as the judge bangs the gavel to settle the room, explaining that Ava now will have primary and sole custody and that Frankie will only be allowed supervised visits with a social worker, and that Ava can take her daughter home today.

Their daughter.

Frankie knows he isn't perfect - fuck, he is far from it but this just seems like a sick joke.

As soon as his license was officially stripped from him, he knew his marriage was over. The tension had started almost a year earlier when Ava suspected Frankie of using, to which he vehemently denied.

Of course, it was true, but how was he supposed to explain and admit to the love of his life that he needed the cocaine flowing through his body in order to feel anything anymore.

Things began to crumble soon after the initial suspicion by Ava.

The best way Frankie thought to deal with this problem was to put some space between himself and his wife. He didn't want her to see him when he was strung out and begging for one last hit - God forbid his daughter see him like that.

In a way, Frankie was grateful that Ellie was still an infant, and that she would have no memory of the fights he had with her mother over his addiction.

He began staying out late at bars and other places downtown where he knew he could meet his dealer and get more of his fix, trying to keep it as far away from his home as possible.

After a few drinks and a successful meeting with his dealer, he would make his way home where he eventually came down, the immediate rush of guilt and sorrow filling his heart as he would return home and see the bedroom door was locked, indicating he had to crash on the couch.

It was when he stepped through the threshold of his small cottage that he felt the shame bubble up from deep inside him, knowing that he couldn't just snuggle up next to his wife and pretend things were fine, or even cradle his daughter in his arms and rock her to sleep, as on these nights Ava made sure to keep Ellie in the bedroom with her.

Those were the nights that haunted him the most.

Breaking Ava's heart was something long in the past - and he knew she wouldn't be able to just forgive him for what he put her through. She was always the one to give people the benefit of the doubt - something he used to tease her about but now feels scorned by. She was the one who stood by him when he admitted he had a problem - giving him support and resources for healing all while lending a helping hand.

She knew he wouldn't try to harm their relationship on purpose.

But when his use began to impede more on their relationship, Ava put her foot down. She was getting tired of the cycle of hurt that came with each band of withdrawal and promises of this being the "last" time, only to see her husband relapse again and again. She tried her hardest to continue supporting him, her high school sweetheart, but she had reached her limit. She started spending more time with her parents, leaving Ellie in their care for most days so she didn't have to see her father stumble through the door after a night out.

Two weeks later she served him with the divorce papers.

Frankie knows that he fucked up, be he never meant to harm Ava or Ellie along the way, especially his baby daughter, whose brown eyes were almost carbon copies of his own. He can't even stomach the idea of Eleanor growing up without her father in her life - she is his whole world, and since the day she was born he promised her that he would always be there for her.

But now, his heart aches knowing he is going home to a semi-furnished one-bedroom apartment, no wife or daughter waiting up for him like when he returned from missions or deployment.

Francisco Morales was not one to take the easy way out.

He clutches his patient belongings bag tighly in his right hand as he walks out of the lobby of the inpatient rehabilitation center, scanning the outside pickup area for a familiar truck. After looking around for a moment a truck horn beep startles him, turning to see a familiar mop of black hair peeking out of his truck.

Chuckling to himself, Frankie jogs over to the passenger side and hops in, feeling Pope immediately wrap him tightly in a hug. "I missed you Cat," he murmurs into the pilot's shoulder, giving him a comforting pat on the back before releasing the brown-haired man from his arms.

"I missed you too Santi," Frankie sighs, placing his bag down on the floor at his feet, "I don't know how much longer I could stay there without seeing a familiar face."

Santi lets out a low laugh as he starts up the truck and pulls out of the patient drop-off area before turning onto the main road. The two sit in silence for a few moments as Frankie stretches out his limbs, turning his head to look out the window as they drive down through the city.

The black haired man knows better than to pry and quiz the pilot about his 2 month stay at the local inpatient rehabilitation center. After the fallout of the trial, things got rough really fast. Santi knew deep down there was a chance of relapse, even with Frankie left the courtroom promising that this would never happen again - but it was all too much.

At 3:11 am Santi got a call from Frankie.

By 6:30 the pair were at the very same doors that Frankie had just emerged, with Santi comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down the brunette's back and they waited to check him in and head over to intake.

But Santi doesn't pry.

He just drums a tune on the steering wheel as he continues driving down the main stretch of road in the city. He watches out of the corner of his eye as they get to a red light as Frankie fixes his hair, running his fingers through the brown fringe across his forehead and he lets out a chuckle.

"What's so funny Pope? I don't wanna look like I'm fresh out of the hospital." He huffs, looking over his hair again before closing the mirror.

To say Frankie was nervous was an understatement. He had been out of the hospital for less than ten minutes and he was already on his way to meet a new lawyer. His new lawyer.

The previous week Frankie received a call from Santi during his afternoon rec time. At first he couldn't make out what the other man was saying, he remembers huffing out something the lines of "are you fucking drunk?" but made sure to keep quiet as he knew some people in the rec area didn't take too kindly to brash language.

He then remembers the hearty chuckle on the other end. "No I'm not fucking drunk 'fish, I'm excited! I just ran into one of my old college buddies-"

"Do you mean fuck buddies?" Frankie teases, letting out a quiet laugh as he hears a scoff on the other end of the line.

"No you idiot! I didn't sleep with every girl I knew back then, I know it's hard to believe," Frankie lets out a loud laugh, "I ran into an old friend of mine who went to law school, and let's just say she owes me a favor and she agreed to take on your case! Fish? Frankie?"

The pilot drops the phone as soon as the words are processed.

He has another chance. Another chance to see Ava and his baby girl. A chance to get them both back into his life for good this time, now that he has detoxed and spent his time working on his coping strategies.

They could be back in his arms once again.

"Mr. Morales? Mr. Garcia? She's ready for you."

"It's go time." Santi nods, standing up out of his seat and motioning for the pilot to follow him.

The pair make their way down the white and bright hallways of the law offices, walking past several cubicles full of lawyers and other workers chatting away before coming to an office with a glass door at the end of the hallway.

Frankie nervously plays with his fingers as Santi knocks on the door, hearing a soft "come in" from the otherside.

He follows the black haired man into the office and freezes in his tracks when he sees you get up from your desk and rush to pull Santi into a hug. He tries to keep his eyes from widening like a cartoon character but he can't help it - Santi didn't mention how gorgeous you are.

He listens to you both talk for a few moments before you reach your hand out and introduce yourself, a light smile playing at your lips. Frankie nods and takes your smaller hand in his before watching you go back to your desk. You open your laptop and pull out the file your assistant gathered on the details of the previous case.

"Mr. Mora-"

"You can call me Frankie," the pilot interjects, his cheeks turning red as you nod and take a mental note of that. "Frankie, do you want to start off at the start of your story for me? I always find it more beneficial to ask from the client's perspective about the details of the case, it makes a stronger case," you say, picking up a pen and looking at the brunette sitting across from you.

Frankie lets out a small cough and takes a soft breath in before laying his cards out on the table.

Santi stays quiet in the seat next to him, nodding along at the details of the story and offering a comforting hand on the back as one of his closest friends speaks about some of the darkest points in his life with you as if you have known him as long as you have known him.

It takes about 45 minutes of Frankie's explanations and your questioning to get all of the information you need for the initial meeting, making notes of the progress the pilot has made within the inpatient treatment center as well as Santi's testimony. You put your files away in the folder on your desk and stand up, making your way over to the two soldiers and giving them each a handshake, telling them both that you feel extremely confident in this case, and that you can't wait to help Frankie get his family back.

You can't miss the way he breaks out into a grin, probably one of the first genuine ones in a while, and you see Santi nod his head approvingly at you before giving you a quick "thanks" as the two begin to stand up and walk towards your door.

Before they leave you quickly call out to Frankie, who turns around quickly and his chocolate brown eyes lock with yours.

"What's your daughter's name?" You ask softly, watching as his posture relaxes at the mention of his pride and joy. He reaches into one of his back pockets of his jeans and pulls out a small photo from his wallet and hands it to you.

You look over the tiny photo - it must have been from the day she was born. Her big brown eyes are the same as her father's, a small smile on her face.

"Her name is Eleanor, Eleanor Luciana," he smiles, a small tear welling up in the corner of his right eye.

A smile plays at your lips as you see the absolute adoration in his eyes as he talks about her.

You know you have to win this case.

You spend the next 3 months prepping for the case.

You know this process is not an easy one, especially for Frankie. At first, he came to your office twice a week in the afternoon right after his NA meetings, most times with Santi in tow. It was awkward at first for sure - I mean it isn't fun working with a lawyer about the bad choices he had made or the fact of the matter that he feels like a piece of him has died since he has been away from his family.

Santi helped ease the tension.

When it got hard for Frankie to talk about some of the details of his drug use, or the fights he had with Ava, Santi was there to help ease the conversation and help Frankie get through it. It helped that the two knew each other like the back of their hands, with Santi being able to crack a joke at a moment's notice and bring the pilot back down to the ground.

It was when Santi brought up old memories of your time back in college that you heard real laughter from the brunette.

They weren't your proudest memories, but the way that Frankie laughed at you and Santi's old college stories brought a smile to your face and gave you a feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you didn't want to go away. You knew deep down you shouldn't feel those butterflies, especially when dealing with a client, but something about the pilot made your heart flutter.

But the minute you would feel the butterflies, like after Frankie gave you a compliment about your outfit, you would feel the guilt wash over you in waves. Frankie was a father, a former husband who was working with you in order to win back his ex. How could you feel this way about a man who was fighting through hell to get his family back.

You were just his lawyer.

Seeing him open up each time he came into your office was something that struck you deep down, knowing that being this vulnerable is something that he doesn't take lightly.

The two of you continue meeting twice a week after NA, with Frankie telling you about his feelings from his meeting and talking about his goals for this upcoming trial.

You continue preparing him with questions you know will be brought up by the family court judge, focusing on his plans for the future after his discharge from the inpatient center, focusing on the changes in behavior he has made of the past few months. His answers become more confident the harder you work, and you feel your heart start to swell as he talks about how excited he is to see his baby girl again.

But you also feel pain in your heart at the thought of the man before you leaving your life after this week.

It's the Friday night before the trial, a night you typically take off early on, but tonight is different.

Frankie was sitting here in your office earlier this week when he casually mentioned that he was getting his 6 month sober chip on Friday. Upon hearing this news you gasp and stand up from your desk, your feet carrying you over towards him before you could even register what you are doing - suddenly you realize that you have pulled him into your arms.

Frankie is shocked at first, a small "oof" escaping his lips as you held onto him, but he is grateful you cannot see the blush rising on his cheeks.

You quickly pull yourself back and subconsciously smoothing out your light green work pants before taking a step back. "I'm so proud of you 'Cat, that's so amazing!" You smile, brushing a piece of hair back behind your ear.

The pilot nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

"How about you come here on friday. You, me and Santi can have some pizza and a beer to celebrate," you suggest, watching as Frankie furrows his brow before letting out a chuckle.

"You don't ask all of your clients to have a pizza party in your office after hours do you?" He laughs, taking his hat off and fixing his brown locks before sliding it back on his head.

"I can't say that I do, but this is what Santi and I would do back in the day to celebrate, so why not celebrate this achievement before we get in the courtroom."

You chuckle, remembering the days spent in the shitty apartment Santi had off campus. "Alright I'm in." Frankie smiles, "I'll bring the beers."

That night the three of you sit on the floor of your office like kids and chuckle at old stories, both from college and from the boy's times spent overseas. You watch as Frankie laughs at something Santi says and you feel the pain in your heart return, knowing that in a few short days your client would be back to his old life, and you would be stuck here back in the real world at your job. You know it's wrong, but these past months have been different than any other case you have taken on.

You know Frankie is going to be able to go back to his family after all of this - he is stronger than when this whole ordeal started and he has the support to prevent another relapse.

Hell, you are proud of him outside of work, knowing this process wasn't easy - but the idea of this man walking out of your life brings you sadness. Knowing he won't be in your office twice a week for hours, cracking jokes and talking about nothing in particular towards the end.

Sometimes you wonder what things would be like if you met under other circumstances. Maybe you two would have a shot - walking hand in hand at the local farmer's market, singing karaoke at the bar with Santi, Benny and Will, or even going on a flight with him.

You even opened up to him, telling him things even Santi doesn't know. But you need to remember why you are here - to win this for your client.

"Mr. Morales, after going over the details of this case, I see the dedication you have made towards your rehabilitation and future. I have talked with the treatment team at Maple Grove rehabilitation as well as your NA sponsor, and based on all of the information I have gathered is that you are fit to have custody of your daughter. You will now have shared custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales."

Before you can properly process the words of the judge, you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso and lift you in the air. You feel a blush come over your cheeks as you hear Frankie saying "thank you" over and over again as he sets you back down on the ground.

You both simultaneously pull back and hide your blushes as you thank the judge for his discretion and you faintly hear the bang of the gavel in the background as the court is dismissed.

You don't miss the way Ava storms out of the courtroom with her family and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Santi walks over to the two of you and pulls you both into a hug, rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down your back and thanking you for everything you did.

You nod as Santi pulls back and turns to his brother in arms, chatting about something you can't quite hear as you begin to pack up your white briefcase, pausing when you see a photo of Ellie on the table.

Since the beginning of the trial Frankie felt the nerves wash over him as this suddenly felt so real. You had suggested that he bring in a picture of Eleanor to place on the table so that whenever he became nervous, he could look down and see who he was doing this all for. Seeing the photo now brings tears to the corners of your eyes and you close up your briefcase - turning around to see that Santi has left the courtroom, just leaving you and Frankie.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for everything," he says softly, nervously scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You nod curtly, trying to ignore the sore feeling in your throat - a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Frankie tilts his head in confusion and walks closer, reaching out and grabbing your smaller hands in his. "I mean it - you have helped me through this whole process, and you are the reason I get to see Eleanor again, and for that I cannot thank you enough."

His words cut through you like knives - you knew this was coming. Your job is over, and it's time for him to move on.

"All in a day's work," you chuckle quietly, having to look down at your shoes to avoid letting the tears fall.

You suddenly feel softy fingers tilt your head up. Blinking through your lashes you see the pilot looking at you with only adoration in his eyes. You lock onto his chocolate orbs and nod slightly as he moves closer, softly crashing your lips against his.

You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling him flush against his chest in a soft yet comforting way. You find yourself getting lost in the moment, one of your hands tangling in his hair as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

A moment later you both pull away, leaning your forehead against his as he lets out a small chuckle.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," he smiles, locking eyes with you once again, "I had to wait until I wasn't your client anymore, I didn't want to make it awkward or unethical."

You smile at his confession, brushing a piece of his brunette locks out of his eyes.

"Well now that you are no longer my client, would you like to go grab a beer?" You ask, looking at the way his eyes light up at your question.

"I would love that."

He watches as you grab your briefcase and wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you head for the courtroom doors.

He feels his heart swell in his chest knowing he not only has Eleanor back in his life, but now he has you too.

taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @babyprim @shadowolf993 @jasterslegacy @collectorofexperiences

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish Morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #my writing

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trellanyx · 3 years ago

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Dark!Stolas AU

I started to send a prompt to @vizowrites after reading the latest installment of her Dark!Stolas AU, then realized I wanted to write it instead. lol This is meant to be a direct sequel to Where You Belong. Thanks for letting me play in the sandbox for a bit bb!

Fic Warnings: This is an AU where Blitzo does not want to have sex with Stolas, and only does so in order to have continued access to the grimoire. Stolas has no qualms about using this leverage to keep Blitzo in line, or ignoring Blitzo’s boundaries. Nothing sexual happens in this fic, but if you don’t like reading fics based off this premise, this isn’t for you. Like the title says, Stolas is not a good person here.

“And you,” Stolas said, his gaze flashing back to Striker with a near break-neck speed, flashing in a surge of barely contained power that still seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. “While I admire that terribly forceful nature of yours, I highly suggest that you remember just to whom you are speaking. And just to whom you owe your continued opportunities that keep your schedules oh so busy. Which reminds me, darling Blitzy….bring the book with you to our next meeting.”

“Blitzy! There you are, darling.”

Regrettably, Blitzo thought. He placed the book on its usual place on the nightstand and shucked off his coat. Stolas loved it when his favorite toy showed such ‘enthusiasm’, not noticing, or perhaps not caring, that Blitzo’s only motivation was to get the night over with as quickly as possible.

He didn’t know which option was worse.

“Look, can we skip the roleplay tonight? My back has been bitching at me all day.”

Stolas giggled. “Ah yes. Isn’t that post-coital ache just delightful? I know my best mornings always happen when I can’t walk straight.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. In the beginning, he’d respond to comments like that with something along the lines of, “I hear a good ass whooping produces the same result”, but Stolas always interpreted those retorts as encouragement, and Blitzo eventually stopped bothering. He nodded to where Stolas was decadently sprawled along a twilight-violet chaise. “That the spot you’ve decided on?”

“As thrilling as it is to be the center of such undivided attention,” purred Stolas, “I’d actually prefer we take things slower tonight. It feels like ages since we’ve had the chance to simply…talk.” Stolas’s eyes gleamed scarlet, all four of them pinned directly on Blitzo. “Given both of our busy schedules, after all.”

Blitzo stiffened, feeling his stomach shrivel with a sudden chill of terror.

“Stolas--”

“Sit, please,” said the prince, waving a hand at a matching armchair Blitzo knew hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I’m as eager to receive your glorious cock as you are to give it to me, but another need must be satisfied first.”

The words tumbled out of Blitzo so quickly they nearly slurred together. “If this is about what happened at the office, I swear--”

“I said sit.”

Blitzo’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. He power-walked to the chair, unwilling to risk finding out what Stolas might do if he thought Blitzo was taking too long. But Stolas only giggled again, as if seeing Blitzo so flustered was cute.

“Though since you bring it up, I would like to discuss what happened when I last tried to visit you. I fear there may be some…misunderstanding among your employees about just what our relationship is like, Blitzy.”

“We don’t have a relationship, Stolas,” snapped Blitzo. “We have an arrangement. I fuck you, you don’t fuck over my business. Cut and fucking dry.”

Stolas clucked his tongue. “Blitzy, we are lovers. You could at least try to put in a little romantic effort outside the bedroom.”

Blitzo bared his teeth. “I’m plenty romantic,” he said, in a moment of reckless defiance. “Just not with you.”

Stolas blinked, and Blitzo nearly bit through his own tongue. He did not, however, take back the words. He was engaged now, for fuck’s sake. And the memory of his fiancé almost spitting in the eyes of demon royalty was enough to give Blitzo just enough courage to wipe out his remaining fucks.

You wanna talk, bitch? Fine. Let’s talk.

Stolas tapped a claw against his thigh. “Are you now?” he asked, terribly soft. Blitzo opened his mouth to snarl back, but it hung open when Stolas suddenly beamed and said, “Why Blitzy, that’s wonderful!”

“….It is?”

“Of course!” trilled Stolas. “I’m so happy to hear there are other paramours in your life! Not surprised, of course, my dear little imp. Who could possibly resist such a beautiful and wickedly talented creature like yourself?” He laughed gaily. “I wondered why that fiery little fellow seemed so testy last we met. Jealousy, hm?” Stolas gave a sage little hoot. “I understand, Blitzy. Love makes fools of us all.”

Blitzo couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Striker, jealous of you? Listen bitch--”

“Blitzy, darling, it’s alright,” Stolas soothed. “I understand.”

Blitzo raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Do ya now?

“It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened over our little courtship,” said Stolas, still smiling. “At least he didn’t throw something at me! Poor Seymour,” he sighed. “Two centuries of care, gone in a blink and a crash. Fortunately my reflexes are better than my wife’s aim!”

“…Am I on drugs?” Blitzo wondered. “Is Verosika about to pop out with a horse head or somethin’? ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie, that’d actually be a pretty sweet upgrade for her.”

“Silly imp,” giggled Stolas. “Well! Now that that little bit of unpleasantness has been cleared up, I say we move on to more enjoyable activities. How about some refreshments before we start?”

Blitzo withheld a groan. Feeding each other was one of Stolas’s favorite forms of foreplay. He’d constantly nip at or suck on Blitzo’s fingers, to say nothing of how often he’d pretend to feed Blitzo a strawberry or something before replacing it with his mouth at the last second. But if it got Stolas to stop asking questions about his and Striker’s relationship, Blitzo was up for anything.

“Just no strawberries, okay? Last time they made me break out in hives.”

“Alas, tonight I’m simply thirsty.” Stolas pulled a silver bell from his robe and gave it a dainty ring. Then he winked at Blitzo and added, “Of course, that’s always my mood when you’re on my mind.”

A servant imp appeared almost instantaneously, carrying a tray with two shimmering glasses of wine.

“I really do feel much better now,” said Stolas, taking his glass.

“Good for you,” deadpanned Blitzo as the servant turned his way. “Now can we get on with--”

CRASH!

“FUCK!” Blitzo scrambled backward, tripping over the arm of the chair and falling onto the floor. His claws scratched the tile as he scooted backwards on his ass, away from the servant who was now a solid block of stone. Blitzo’s wineglass was shattered on the ground. Why…why did it look like the exact shade of blood?

Stolas took a long, indulgent sip of his own wine. “Wiggles, this is Blitzy. Blitzy, Wiggles.”

“Stolas, what the fuck?!”

“Wiggles hasn’t been with me as long as Seymour was,” Stolas continued, not needing to raise his voice to talk over Blitzo’s panicked yelling. “I daresay Wiggles isn’t even his name, but that’s neither here nor there.”

The prince unfolded his unnaturally long legs and walked around the statue of Wiggles. “He’s a good servant, as far as imps go. Obedient, polite, deferential…he knows his place in the world and is content with it. Like Seymour was.” Stolas placed a hand on the top of Wiggles’s stone head. “And like Seymour…”

Blitzo realized what was coming a split second too late. “DON’T--!”

Stolas lightly pushed, and Wiggles fell forward. There was a sick crack when the statue hit the ground, and Blitzo watched in horror as Wiggles’s now detached head lay face-first in the puddle of wine. Stolas waved his hand, and the rest of the body crumbled into dust and rubble.

“Gone in a blink and a crash,” finished Stolas.

There was no flirting or good-natured silliness to Stolas now. He stared down at Blitzo with cold disappointment. Blitzo barely dared to breathe, let alone move.

“Let’s not forget what our actual roles are, my precious little imp,” murmured Stolas. “You are exceedingly good at what you can do with your body, and because of that, I allow your little family venture to succeed. Every time you rendezvous with the world above, you pay your way with my magic. Your daughter sleeps under a roof built from my generosity. Your lover fucks you in a bed gifted by my mercy. I could rip everything away from you, Blitzo. Everything you’ve ever touched. I wouldn’t even have to leave this room.”

Stolas knelt down, ignoring the way Blitzo flinched back. “But I don’t do that, darling. Because I love you. You’ve brought excitement and joy back into my world the likes of which I haven’t felt since my daughter was born. Of all my collections and all of my toys, you are my favorite.”

A crimson glow slowly bled into existence until it outlined Stolas’s entire body. Blitzo couldn’t look away from him, and wasn’t entirely sure that Stolas wasn’t making that possible. The air seemed to constrict around him, making his temples pound and his nose bleed.

“What you do with your time is your own business, Blitzo. But when I call on you, full moon or not, I expect you to answer,” whispered Stolas. The use of Blitzo’s full name stung him like a brand. “When I ask for privacy, I expect to not be interrupted. Above all, I expect you to make sure your associates know their place around us – and mind it. Do you understand?”

Blitzo jerked his head in as much of a nod as he could manage.

“They may hiss and spit all they like, but they will stay out of our way. Else I will remove them myself, and I will make you watch. Do you understand?”

Another nod.

“Say it, Blitzy.”

“…I understand,” said Blitzo through gritted teeth. The moment he did, the air returned to normal, leaving Blitzo gasping for air like a drowning man. Stolas finished his wine, and looked out the balcony window behind Blitzo.

“Ah! And there’s the moon. What a beautiful sight – not as lovely as you, of course.” Stolas cupped Blitzo’s cheek, looking at him with a familiar expression of lust. “Come darling,” he purred. “The night is still young, after all.”

#helluva boss #blitzo #stolas #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss blitzo #vizowrites #felt like stretching my evil writing muscles lol #thanks for letting me borrow him vizo!#does blitzo try to lay low or does he immediately go home that night like BABE GET YER RIFLE WE'RE GOING OWL HUNTING #it's up to you XD

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starcloud-nova · 3 years ago

Note

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words ��

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload Okay, let’s talk HeroCon.

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

#bnha #bnha fic #fic rec #fic rec list #fic rec masterpost #nova talks #all my friends in one post. sniffle #most of em anyway #not sure what to tag this so. ill hit send!#forgot too tag this as an ask rip #anonymous #ask

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lalainajanes · 3 years ago

Text

For “neighborhood block party” on my bingo card! This one takes place in the same universe as Sweet As (quirky supernatural small town fic in which Caroline’s a dryad who owns a bakery and Klaus is the leader of the local werewolf pack and mates are a thing ;) ) though it’s more of a prequel.

The Fall Festival

Before he’d met Caroline, Klaus’ mornings had fallen into a predictable pattern.

He would wake up at the same time, wander into his kitchen to find a full pot of coffee and a pack member or two. Occasionally, there was an emergency. Sometimes there was an issue where his opinion was wanted. Most often, his visitors would come with a problem that could have been solved without Klaus’ input, though he’d never complained.

Klaus had been an outsider once, had become pack leader when the father he’d never known had died, and Marcel had shown up at his door in Chicago. At the time, Klaus had resented the disruption to his life.

Now, he doesn’t understand how he’d survived so long, locking himself in a cage every month.

His mother had explained his parentage when he’d turned twelve, and it had been revelatory, explained why he’d always struggled to wield even a hint of the power that came naturally to his siblings. Esther had told him what to expect, that he’d be dangerous, but she’d refused to tell Klaus anything about the man who’d passed him the werewolf genes, hadn’t even supplied a name.

The rift in their relationship had begun there, had only widened since. When Klaus had chosen to accept his birthright, he’d ensured he’d never be welcome in the home he’d grown up in. He’d never regretted it.

Most of his siblings happily defy their parents to visit, and the pack had become another sort of family.

Three months after Caroline had opened her shop, Klaus had trekked out into the forest to deal with one of the rare emergencies. A scent had been picked up on a security run two days prior, of a young, unfamiliar wolf.

A wolf who proved to have a gift for hiding.

Klaus and his inner circle had been trying to track the interloper, had to find them before the next full moon. His pack had long-standing agreements with the humans and the various local supernatural sects. A young wolf could have jeopardized the easy peace the town enjoyed without meaning to. Klaus and his pack would have had to pay the price.

Young wolves could not always assert human will over animal instincts, which could be deadly if any prey crossed their paths.

And to a werewolf, just about anyone can be prey.

That morning Klaus had decided to head west to an area of that woods that was dense with trees and wildlife. His pack usually leaves it be, understanding that there would be objections if they were to start messing with the local ecosystems. Besides, it offers little opportunity to run, something a werewolf is always eager to do when given a chance.

He’d been moving slowly and silently, examining the ground for prints that looked similar to the ones they believe belong to the young wolf. He’d frequently paused to see if he could pick up a scent, but he’d grown distracted.

Klaus had come across a grove of trees emanating a strange warmth. Curious, he’d rested his hand on the trunk of one.

Only to have the rough bark shiver under his touch and melt away, growing soft and smooth and scented of cherries and spice rather than earth.

He’d snatched his hand back and turned away as soon as he’d realized what was happening, had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and wondered if it would be cowardly to flee. He’d heard rustling, soft footsteps, the glide of fabric over skin. Then a woman’s voice, dripping with amusement, “You can turn around now. I’m dressed.”

Klaus had turned slowly. “My apologies. I was unaware I was trespassing.” He’d averted his eyes, realizing that “dressed” wasn’t entirely accurate. The woman had only slipped on a robe, a pale green confection of a garment made from silk and lace, loosely belted and short. He’d looked closely enough to realize she was gorgeous, with a riotous mess of blonde curls framing a flushed face and friendly, curious blue eyes.

His body had reacted, and Klaus had forced himself to begin breathing through his mouth. Her scent had clouded his thoughts, tempted him to step closer.

He hadn’t understood what was happening, why he was reacting so strongly to a stranger.

Klaus might have grown particular about who he invited into his bed, but he was hardly inexperienced or prone to awkwardness in the presence of beautiful women.

He’d gone a little wild when he’d become pack leader five years ago, had freely partaken in pleasure just about any time it was offered. Offers were still coming, but Klaus had largely lost interest, leery of complications that could occur with attachments. At the time, he’d only occasionally indulged when an alluring visitor caught his eyes.

Which hadn’t happened in months.

Why was this woman, not even a wolf, so very compelling?

When he’d clasped his hands behind his back and carefully fixed his attention to just above her forehead, she’d made a noise, an aborted laugh. “Wow, never met a shy werewolf before. You guys are usually super quick to get naked.”

Klaus’ eyes had swung to hers, shocked and a touch suspicious, “How do you know I’m a werewolf?”

Her head had tilted towards the trees, “It’s hard to explain. When I’m in that form, connected to the ground, there’s a heightened amount of intuition. Most supernatural beings pull power from some variety of natural elements, and I can usually tell which one, feel the energy.”

“You’re a dryad,” he’d said slowly. He’d remembered reading about them as a child, in one of his mother’s books. An old, thick tome, with tiny print, that detailed the origin stories of all the known species that walked the earth. He hadn’t recalled much more than the basics, had made a mental note to check if the library in his home had a similar volume.

“Guilty,” she’d chirped. She’d held out her hand, “Caroline Forbes. I bought the bakery in town a couple of months ago. You should stop by sometime.”

He’d shaken her hand, that contact enough to ensure Caroline would never stray from Klaus’ thoughts for long.

That brief brush of her skin on his had spurred a change in Klaus’ morning pattern.

He’d visited Caroline’s bakery the next day. Had rolled out of bed, earlier than he had since he’d been obligated to attend morning meetings, and driven to town. Caroline’s business had been easy to spot, featuring a cheerful striped awning in the same shade of green of the robe Klaus had spent far too many minutes contemplating.

He’d slid into a booth shortly after Caroline had opened up. She’d noticed him, appeared pleased to see him and wiggled her fingers in greeting.

And thus began a new routine.

* * * * *

Caroline smiles at Klaus as soon as he arrives. His face immediately grows suspicious.

Oops. She might have overdone it. Klaus is weirdly adept at spotting ulterior motives, and Caroline needs a teeny, tiny favor.

Which is not to say that she doesn’t look forward to his morning visits. More often than not, they’re the highlight of her day. She happens to have gotten a delivery late yesterday afternoon, one that’s essential to pulling off something she’s been working on for ages, so she’s particularly excited about it. She needs to borrow Klaus’ artistic skills to realize her vision.

That she’ll get to spend a little extra time with him is just a bonus.

He walks up to the counter and leans against it. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

She tilts her head to the side, uses her sweetest tone, “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be accusing me of such a thing?”

She spots the twitch at the corner of his mouth though he maintains an impressively deadpan expression. “Honestly, I suspect you’re usually plotting something.”

Caroline had to give him that one, “Okay, true. I might need a hand from someone who’s more artistically inclined than I am. AKA you.”

“What can I do for you?”

She smiles again, kind of glad that there’s a counter between them because Klaus’ lack of hesitation has her feeling all sorts of fuzzy things, and she very well might have thrown herself at him.

Which is not a thing that they do, though she’s hoping that changes at some point.

“I bought some lights and paint for the window. I splurged on it because it’s supposed to be really pretty, kind of sheer, and shimmery. I was hoping to paint some leaves and vines around the borders of the window, but my test runs were… subpar.”

“Still a bit upset about the Summer Solstice party then?”

Caroline glares without any real ire, “Shh. You know that’s a sore subject!”

She’d been woefully unprepared for just how serious the town took its celebrations. The Summer Solstice had been her first one. She’d nailed the food, had baked up tiny, fluffy meringues, served them with a vanilla peach compote, topped with fresh whipped cream and toasted almonds. Everyone had raved about them. But a few people – mostly the members of the town council who are generally unpleasant and excessively gossipy, in Caroline’s not at all biased opinion – had made snide remarks about her lack of decorations.

She’d been mortified even though it totally hadn’t been her fault. She’d miscalculated, not yet grasping just freaking slow the mail was. She’d had a ton of fresh flowers, but the paper lanterns and candy-colored trays and linens she’d ordered had arrived two days too late.

Caroline’s determined to do better this time and prove that party planning is her super-power, damn it.

Klaus is shrugging out of his jacket, “Show me to the supplies, love.”

“You’re the best!” she exclaims, reaching over to flip up the top of the counter. “Come on, it’s all in my office. Along with my very bad diagrams but feel free only to use them as a guideline. Far be it for little ‘ol me to tell a professional artiste what to paint.”

“Willing to cede control?” he teases. “Shocking.”

Caroline shrugs, “Guess I must trust you.”

Whoops. Caroline means it, but it’s a weighty thing to say.

Klaus has stepped passed the counter, bent to stash his jacket underneath. He freezes, head bowing before he up back at her. “I’m pleased to hear that,” he replies.

Caroline’s teeth sink into her lower lip, and she glances around. A few people are watching her curiously and, though she hates it, she knows now is not the time to dig into anything serious.

Though she’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to resist.

Caroline clears her throat, heading to her office. She unlocks the door, stepping back to gesture Klaus go in first. She turns around to check that April’s come out from the kitchen, motions that she’ll be back out in ten, and then she joins Klaus.

He’s eyeing the sofa, “How often do you sleep here, sweetheart?”

“How do you… oh, right. Werewolf.”

Caroline’s pretty careful not to think about Klaus’ senses. Intellectually she knows he can probably sniff out all sorts of secrets, that the way she reacts to him is entirely unsubtle. She lives in purposeful denial to avoid melting into a puddle of mortification.

“Rarely. I did it a lot when I was scrambling to get this place opened. Now it’s pretty much just the night of the full moon, or the odd day when there’s a big complicated order.”

“Why the full moon?”

Caroline snorts, “Has it escaped your notice that you guys pack away a ton of food after the full moon? It’s my most profitable day of the month.”

She leans down and hefts the box of paint. Klaus steps forward, “Here, let me.”

Caroline lets him take it off her hands, “You know I’m probably at least as strong as you are, right?”

“I had read that, yes.” His eyes flit over her speculatively, and not for the first time in his presence, she thinks about how nice it would be if telepathy were in her bag of tricks. She knows what she hopes he’s thinking. Caroline’s been spinning fantasies that run the gamut from sweet and sensual to hot and frantic since Klaus first wandered into her grove. She’s pretty confident her interest is reciprocated, but he gives her mixed signals.

Caroline’s naturally tactile. She tends to crank that up when she’s in flirt mode. Klaus is careful to stay at a polite distance. He doesn’t cringe when she touches him, but he doesn’t touch her back either.

It’s confusing.

Caroline had gotten tipsy and whiny about the situation last weekend at the bar. Bonnie had been sympathetic and knowing, refused to spill what she clearly knew. Bonnie had only said, in that infuriatingly cryptic way witches have, that Caroline would figure it out when the time was right.

She and Bonnie haven’t known each other long, but Caroline had sensed she wouldn’t budge. She’d pouted until Enzo had arrived with shots.

Things had gotten a little hazy after that.

“Ah, so you’re just gentlemanly?” Caroline teases, watching as Klaus sets the box on her desk. He’s focused on it, so she takes the opportunity to ogle a little. His grey t-shirt is thin and snug. She’s going to be thinking about the way his muscles shift underneath it when she’s alone.

“Something like that.”

“Well, never let it be said that Caroline Forbes doesn’t pay her debts. I’ll save you a bunch of the desserts I’m making for the festival. I’ve perfected them over the last few days – pumpkin with pecan crumble, a delicious marriage of the best fall pies.”

He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling from low in his throat. “Sounds delicious. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance? There’s always a bonfire once the shops close down.”

Huh. That seems like an unmistakable signal. One Caroline hadn’t expected.

She swallows her initial instinct, the urge to joke about how Klaus must have decided she doesn’t have cooties after all. Caroline licks her lips, wonders if he can hear that her heartbeat has quickened. “I’ll make sure my dance card has a spot for you.”

* * * * *

Klaus finds Marcel in the living room when he comes downstairs on the night of the fall festival. He stops short, dread growing in his stomach. He’d spoken to Marcel earlier, and he hadn’t mentioned stopping by. “What happened?”

Marcel’s eyes narrow, “Is that a new sweater?”

Klaus doesn’t understand how that’s relevant to Marcel’s presence in his home.

He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Marcel grins, “Alright, not in a talkative mood. Heard. No disaster, don’t worry. I added an extra few cases of wine to the regular order last month, remember? Just here to grab them for the festival.”

Right. The pack operates several businesses but nothing with a storefront in town. On festival nights, the shops on Main Street decorate and offer free food or small gifts to anyone who wanders in. The town council covers the food available in the square, and Klaus’ pack supplies a significant portion of the booze (only fair since Klaus is quite sure they partake more than most). For this one, if he remembers correctly, they’re providing mulled wine and spiked hot chocolate while Enzo’s bar will set up kegs.

Klaus nods, relaxing. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I trust you can handle the delivery yourself?”

“Why, got a hot date? I don’t remember you ever doing much more than making an appearance at one of these things. This eagerness to arrive early is interesting.”

Marcel sounds far too knowing. To an extent, as the pack’s second in command, it’s his job to know Klaus’ business. He suspects what Caroline means to Klaus, that his wolf has chosen her, but Klaus has never confirmed it.

He’s been resisting the pull, exerting iron control over his instincts, maintaining a careful amount of distance even when he ached to return her affectionate overtures. And it’s not because he doesn’t want her, but because the bond is permanent. Unbreakable, once it’s solidified.

Klaus’ path is set. Caroline’s not bound by the same magic, not unless she wants to be.

“Obviously, you have this under control,” Klaus says, spinning on his heel. “Lock the door when you leave.”

Marcel’s laughter follows him out of the house.

* * * * *

Caroline’s nervous. More nervous than she’s ever been before a date, and it’s not even a date. She’d selected her outfit carefully. Her cream sweater dress has a wide neckline that’s prone to slipping off her shoulders. She’d selected dark tights for underneath and thigh-high boots, which are saved from being too risqué for a family-friendly event by their minimal heel.

She’s been getting compliments all evening, had smiled politely. She’d picked the outfit with one person in mind.

At nine, Caroline locks up, rushing into her office to let her hair down and touch up her makeup. A tap on the window comes at 9:06. She tucks a curl behind her ear, takes a deep breath, “You are not fifteen. Get it together,” she mutters to herself before she flicks off the lights.

She waves at Klaus through the window, grabs the small box where she’d packed up the portion of tartlets she’d saved for him and her keys.

Main Street is brighter than usual, street lamps lit and wrapped with strands of tiny white lights. Caroline steps outside, her eyes running over Klaus. He’s changed since this morning into darker jeans and a navy sweater. Is it a date outfit? She kinda thinks so.

“Hi,” Caroline says, impressed it’s not a squeak. She doesn’t trust herself to open with a compliment about how he looks – her brain-to-mouth filter is unreliable even when she’s calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she gestures to the windows, “Your paintings were a hit.”

Klaus doesn’t seem to hear her. He swallows heavily. “You look…” he trails off, but Caroline’s not an idiot. She knows exactly what the tiny ring of gold around his irises means.

Caroline’s grateful for the confirmation that her attraction isn’t at all one-sided. Her cheeks heat, “What, this old thing?”

He reaches for her, and Caroline’s heart stutters, mouth going dry. It’s the first time Klaus has made any sort of move, and it feels like the start of something she’ll want to remember.

Though she’s not capable of explaining that certainty at the moment. Caroline can’t claim to have a quiet mind, she’s capable of laser focus, but there’s usually a whole list of thoughts and questions in the background, each clamoring for attention.

Right now, there’s only Klaus and the shrinking distance between their bodies.

His palm lands on her upper arm, warm even through her sweater. His fingers tighten, skimming down, lingering when they meet the bare skin of her wrist before his palm meets hers.

She exhales shakily, returning the pressure. Caroline sways forward until her knees brush Klaus’, and his free hand clasps hers. He leans forward, and the hint of stubble on his face rasps against her cheek. “You are overwhelmingly lovely,” he murmurs, mouth brushing her temple.

Caroline’s lips part, and she’s seconds away from turning her head and rising to her toes when Klaus takes a half step away. He pivots until they stand shoulder to shoulder. He keeps one of her hands, and Caroline follows his lead when he begins to walk towards the town’s center.

She barely registers her surroundings, couldn’t name any of the people they pass or describe the decorations. She only feels Klaus’ hand, the solid strength of him next to her, is only aware of the addictive mix of comfort and anticipation fizzing through her veins.

He pulls her into his arms when they reach the makeshift dancefloor next to the bonfire.

It doesn’t feel like a first dance.

There’s no awkward shuffling or hesitant hand placement. Klaus’ grip on her changes, fingers threading between hers, and he wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline’s body melts into Klaus’, her hand rising to rest against his chest. She shivers when his head dips, his breath skimming across her bare shoulder.

There’s music, but it’s not important. She and Klaus move together seamlessly, closer than they probably should be in public, lost in their own world.

No one dares to disturb them.

#klaroline #klarosummerbingo #klaroline fanfiction

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fruityutas · 4 years ago

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strike to the heart

taglist ~ @puppywritings , @xiaojours , @svchengss , @prettyjaems

part of @du0tine ‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab

unstable!yangyang x psychologist!reader

not proofread

wc ~ 5k

genre ~ angst, ttiiinnnyyy fluff, thriller

warnings ~ the following writing is FICTION and has very heavy and unsettling themes like murder, suicide, and toxic relationships. if these themes are triggering or otherwise uncomfortable to you, do NOT read this story. there are also themes of religion.

synopsis ~ you were the best of the best, no one could bring an end to your golden career until he came along

note ~ i based yangyang’s personality in this off of his turn back time persona, making him very obviously mentally unstable. the plotline is based loosely off of harley quinn’s origin story, except of course, the reader dies. i also used the concept of purgatory in this story.

i realize that purgatory is apart of various religions, and i hope i made use of it in this story in the way it is intended to be portrayed as. i am not familiar with the subject, as i am non religious and have been for many years, so if i wrote anything that was disrespectful, please let me know and i will educate myself more on the topic. please note that if i do write something disrespectful, i will not be changing the writing in any way, unless necessary, because i feel that changing/erasing the mistake prevents anyone from seeing my growth as a person.

here is the link to the website i used to read up on purgatory -> https://historylists.org/art/9-levels-of-purgatory-dantes-purgatorio.html

your parents always told you to aim for first. probably why you’re here now. you sit in the chair, watching your life play on what seems to be a screen. you can’t tell either way, everything is stark white and blends into one. the scenes are the only thing providing color to your eyes. are you dreaming? no, no that can’t be. the last thing you remember is…pain. and betrayal. how could he do this?

he was a fucking criminal. he had no true love for you, you were his final act. how could you have been so naive? every thought came too fast, it made your head hurt. a noise brought you out of your thoughts. a tall man stood off to the side of the screen. his features were sharp, and he looked angelic. “you must be y/n. you must also be wondering where you are.” you struggle to find your voice, so you nod at the man. he gives a sympathetic smile and strolls over to you.

“you’re in purgatory. well, this is the judgment room. here your memories are played and the most influential ones are used to go to their corresponding terraces.”

“do i pick them out?” he shakes his head.

“no, the council does that. you just sit and watch.” you shift in your chair, the hard material uncomfortable against your skin. “don’t worry, i’ll be here while it happens. you can call me sicheng.” his voice was hypnotizing, calming your mind. you turned back to the screen, and what you assumed to be the first memory started to play.

a burst of yelling snaps you from your thoughts. looks like we have a new patient. it was like this everytime a new patient arrived. yelling, taunting, sometimes as far as physical assault. it was like the right of passage for ‘newbies’ as the currents like to call them. you leave your office to peek downstairs. this one is surrounded by four guards. that’s unusual. two guards was standard, why does this patient need four? a danger to himself and others i assume. i should ask joy if i can take him. you hadn’t had a new patient in months, and all your others were making such progress they moved to a new unit. one of your patients, named chittaphon, had been released back into society. you were one of the best, even at such a young age.

“joy! have you assigned the new patient to anyone yet? i’d like to have him.” you plopped yourself onto the couch in her office. her soft laugh brought you comfort.

“of course you can have him, i was probably going to ask you anyway. you haven’t been busy with any others lately. yukhei is moving to a new unit next week you know. you did good with him, he asked me to tell you thank you.” your heart aches at the thought of yukhei missing you, the boy had become important to you. you would sit and let him talk about his family, his friends, and even his - what he called - soulmate. he would always gush about them and their relationship. you never suspected he could have killed them in such the way he did, or that his ill brain would rewire itself into thinking they were waiting for him to get better and be released from the hospital. the day he found that out was burned in your memory, chairs being thrown and yelling from the entire floor. it broke your heart to see him in such a state, even more when they had to lock him in isolation for a week.

but things change and he got better, and now he’s moving up a unit. more yelling snaps you out of your little thinking session. you and joy peek out her office door to see the new inmate arguing with the guards. you sigh and head down the stairs, as much as joy protests it. one of the guards notices you and tells you to stay back, and that this inmate is dangerous. you shake your head at him and push through to get closer. the inmate didn’t look much older than you, albeit a bit taller than you. he was still yelling at the guards when you came up to him and cleared your throat. he rolls his eyes and turns to you to start yelling, but you shut him down with a stern look at a shake of your head.

“now, now, you don’t want to come in and be the hardass on the first day do you?” he says nothing, but the lack of arguing from him tells you he is agreeing. you tell one of the guards to follow you to his cell. it comes to no one’s surprise that his cell is in the lower level, it’s where all the worst patients stay. the guard that accompanied you stood directly outside the door of the cell, ready for any assistance. the inmate sat down on the cot provided but faced away from you. “are you going to speak to me?” he spares you a small glance, unwavering in intimidation, but it didn’t phase you. his face was young, yet it somehow seemed to be worn and exhausted. you wanted to open him up and see what his troubles came from, to fix him into a model member of society.

“wouldn’t you want me too huh?” his tone was annoyed and sarcastic. you stay collected and just nod at him. “why don’t we start with your name?” he stays silent. “if you don’t want to cooperate that’s perfectly fine but just know i’m the only one you can talk to if you want out of here.” you stand up and leave the cell, knowing that even though it didn’t look like it, progress was made. your last statement would sit with him until the next time you visit him, and he would talk eventually.

the screen fades away and into a new image. the only thing on the screen is the word ‘stubborn.’ you are confused as to what it means. sicheng makes his way over to you, his long legs making the distance short. “it corresponds to the first level of purgatory, stubbornness. although it wasn’t you who was being the most stubborn, it seems.” he snaps his fingers and a seat appears for him to sit. the screen lights up again and another memory begins to play.

“what do you mean he wants to see me? i just spoke to him this morning and he refused to say anything?” joy shrugs her shoulders exasperatedly. you sigh and make your way towards the lower level. the guard at the security door greets you with a nod of the head before letting you in. the inmate’s cell was at the end of the hall, dimly lit and dingey, with a slight smell of mildew. the underground location made for cold air and small windows, so there was never enough light in the place. as you made your way to your patient’s cell, a few of the other inmates down there whistled at you. they whooped and hollered to your dismay, bringing unwanted attention. you recognized one of them, guanheng was his name. he had been a patient of joy’s before she was promoted to her managerial position. no one else wanted to take him on, so they sent him down here to rot. you had expressed the idea of taking him, but joy wouldn’t have it. she simply said he was too unstable for anyone, and deserved to be down there. you disagree with her to this day, but she is still your superior and you can’t just go breaking rules just for your liking.

you knocked on the door to the cell, and a gruff “come in” came from the other side. entering the cell, you saw everything in disarray. “now, why is the cell in this condition?” he huffs and crosses his arms, almost in a cute way. you shake your head and continue in, shutting the door behind you. “are you going to tell me your name? i think it would help me connect better with you.” he looks at you with a blank stare. you don’t change your facial expression, remaining stoney faced. he sighs and starts muttering to himself, as if he was arguing with someone, before looking back up at you and finally speaking. “yangyang. at least thats what i’ve been told.” you hum lightly before asking him a few more questions.

“is it alright if i call you yangyang?” “yes” “alrightly then, do you remember anything from yesterday?” he ponders for a moment, his face going through a group of different expressions before he looks back to you. “i only know that i woke up and felt like hurting someone. but i can’t remember who or why. do you have any pens?” the last question catches you off guard. you hand him an extra pen from your coat pocket. he takes it eagerly and looks to your clipboard with expectant eyes. you tear a blank piece of paper from the back and hand it over. he immediately draws nonsense doodles, the paper quickly being filled. when he fills it, he flips it over to do the other side. “you can keep asking me things, you know. i like to draw, though i don’t know what. the other voice tells me to just make lines and things.” you’re jotting down notes when all of a sudden he throws the pen at you. it hits you square in the head, and you look up at him in surprise. he starts giggling and throws the crumpled paper at you. you remain calm as this can be a common occurrence among patients. his giggles become… unsettling very quickly, the tone and manner of them turning to a deeper octave. you slowly reach into your pocket to grab the help button, but you don’t press it just yet. yangyang stops his giggling and it becomes muttering. his words are difficult to make out, but you pick out a few, ‘kill’, ‘why’, and ‘forget’. you jot them down along with a note stating he was mumbling them in sentences that were not understood. “yangyang, are you hearing anything? do you know the other voice’s name if they have one?” he peeks out of his arms at you nodding. “they tell me that i shouldn’t have forgotten why i killed her.” you had notes on him that his previous institution gave to you, but you wanted to earn his trust by asking various questions. “who did you kill?” you knew he killed his mother, left her body hanging from the porch for everyone to see. the question cause him to tear up a bit. “i, i killed my mother. she just wouldn’t shut up, always nagging me about the house and bills, as if i could help it. she was a bitch.” “mmm, yes. but you loved her still, no?” he nods shakily as if he was unsure. “and did you forget why you killed her that morning?” another nod is sent to you. you keep taking notes on his behaviors.

you end the session on a positive note, telling yangyang that he did good today and that you’d be back tomorrow, but if he needed you to ask.

the screen once again went dark before the word ‘repentance’ appears. sicheng whips a pen-like object from nothing, grabbing your arm harshly to turn you towards him. “now, you might not like this next part but it has to be done. i have to carve five p’s into you somewhere. they aren’t permanent but it still hurts.” you panic slightly, trying to get away from his grasp.

“why?!” his face is stoic and cold, the seriousness setting in. you continue to struggle until he grips your face with vigor, causing you to stop moving. “stop. moving. it has to be done. now, where do you want me to do it?” you just point to your arm and look away as he does it. the pain is searing but bearable. “what is this for?” he makes the pen disappear before clearing his throat to speak. “for each of the sins that lead to your death, there is a ‘p’. the council shows a memory that corresponds to a sin, and you must figure out which one. if you get it right, you move one to the next one until the end, where you are allowed into heaven. if you get them wrong, you have another chance with a different memory. you only get two chances for each sin, though, and if you lose both of them a ‘p’ stays and it’s harder to get the next one correct. if you get more than two sins wrong, you spend 100 years here and then you are banished to hell. so please, be careful and choose wisely.” and with that he turns his attention back to the screen, as do you.

your appointments with yangyang were productive and you got to know him a lot better within the past few days. he hated dogs, they were too noisy and energetic for him. he really wanted to paint and draw all the time, so you gave him a few paint markers to decorate his cell with. when you had your next appointment, the walls were pretty full. he liked the texture of orange peels, he hated the taste. a lot of the things you learned intrigued you, why was his brain wired this way? you needed to dig deeper, and you knew you could. you had many awards and praises from seniors, your ego was swollen from it all. you took pride in your work, and you weren’t exactly humble about it. you would always brag to others about your accomplishments, and sometimes you made it a competition between you and your coworkers. joy was the only one that didn’t pay attention to it, she always let you go on rants about how you accomplished so many things this young.

the door to yangyang’s cell was the same grey color as usual, though on the inside, the room was filled with markings and random drawings the boy did. “yangie? what’s up?” he excitedly jumps from his spot on the bed over to the corner that the sessions took place in. two small chairs and a table were tucked in it, but it was cozy to you. a warm smile took place on your face as you sat in front of him. “well, today i really tried my best to not get angry with anyone like you said, and it worked! all i did was think about what you said to me and it helped so much. no one messed with me either.” there it is, the rush of pride in yourself. your ego is boosted, refilled for the day. you knew he could do it, with your help of course. you were the best in the field. “that is really good to hear, yangyang. i’m glad you remembered what i told you so you could control your emotions.” his hair bounced with each energized nod he gave you. you opened your clipboard and handed him a small stack of blank paper. “this is for you. now you have something clean to draw on again.” he took the papers excitedly.

the rest of the session was yangyang rambling on about how you were the only one helping him and how he really liked seeing you. you observed him and from time to time you’d write notes down on his info sheet. every time he caught you staring, he’d blush and look back at his drawings. a smirk carved into your face, and a wink was all it took for him to turn into a stuttering mess. you left the session that day glowing in confidence and pride.

the screen fades away, and you feel a tingling on your arm where one of the Ps is. sicheng’s voice whispers into your ear, “figure out what sin you just witnessed.” it makes you jump a little, but you quickly regain your composure. all you could think about was yangyang. but deep inside your inner conscious, you knew the sin here wasn’t about him. it was about you. “i have my answer.” sicheng gives you a small nod and when you turn back around, a dark and windy figure stands in front of you. a voice not belonging to you enters your mind. “which sin is it, y/n?” with a shaky voice, and sweating palms, you manage to garble out your answer. “it’s pride. i was prideful in my ways, never backing down from challenges that weren’t meant for me.” the dark figure nods before wisping away. the tingling returns to your arm, and as you look down at it a P swiftly disappears. sicheng’s footsteps bring you back up to the screen, which begins to play a new memory.

the continuous sessions with yangyang proved to be well. his condition was getting better, and he seemed to be taking well to the exercises you gave him. you were on your way to an appointment when joy came up beside you. “have you met with the new doctor yet?” you shake your head. “no, what’s their name? where are they located?” she tries to hide a mischievous smirk, grabbing your arm to stop your walking. “he is absolutely gorgeous! his name is kunhang and he’s actually gonna be on your unit, which means you’re training him since you are the best.” you chuckle at her enthusiasm, she’d always been trying to hook you up with people. she winks at you and runs off, probably to her next appointment. she’d conveniently stopped you in front of yangyang’s cell. you walk inside and see him on his bed pouting.

“what is wrong with you?” his eyes look up at you and shine with the beginnings of tears, worrying you. had the guards or an inmate said something to him? while you’re lost in thought he jumps up and pulls you on the bed with him, his arms wrapped tightly around you. you snap out of it and sit frozen in his arms. the feeling of butterflies in your stomach erupt and you know it’s because of the man in your arms. he lets you go and you stand up to fix your uniform. “what had gotten into you, yangs?” his pouting doesn’t go away and he speaks softly. “who is kunhang?” so that’s what he’s being clingy for. he’s jealous. “he’s a new psychiatrist here. i have to train him.” yangyang didn’t get rid of the pout on his face, and he didn’t let your hand go for the entire session. the jealousy he had even after you told him that nothing was going to happen between you and kunhang was noteworthy, though you didn’t specify why he was jealous on his chart.

the surrounding air had become cold, and you shiver harshly. sicheng sits beside you, tapping impatiently on the table. the shadow figure returns, and before it can speak you do. “the sin was envy. but why did you show me a memory of someone else being envious? i thought this was about my sins.” the figure doesn’t move from its spot. sicheng sighs and throws a stick at the figure, causing it to grunt. “that was unnecessary, sicheng. you are the reason for this sin. you let yangyang get attached to you, causing him to become jealous and protective of you. you may not have committed this sin, but you had the first hand in causing it.” you nod in agreeance, you had let him get close with you. too close, in your opinion, because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t be in this whole situation. it’s a bit ironic, you always told your coworkers to be wary of patients, yet here you are, stuck in purgatory because of one.

in the days leading up to your death, yangyang requested to see you nonstop, and he would ask so many questions about the outside world. what was surrounding the building, how many people were in the city. in hindsight, you should have suspected him to be trying to escape, but your mind was apparently on other things.

the last day you were alive, yangyang requested you only once. it was around eight in the evening, and this was going to be your last trip to his cell, quite literally. “are you ok, yangyang?” he nods and makes his way over to you. he might be younger, but his height is not small. “i’m just fine. but i wanna ask you something.” you nod to let him continue. “i’m planning to leave, and i want you to come with me.” the words come out of him in a hurry, but you catch them. a pit forms in your chest after hearing them. what in the world was he thinking? your job was important, and he still needed the therapy sessions you were giving him. “no, absolutely not. yangyang you can’t leave without proper check out from me and my superior. you know this.” he sighs in annoyance, grabbing your hand and dragging you to sit. “that’s not the type of leaving i meant. i mean we sneak out and never look back. we leave here and head north to my good friend ten’s house. he has this bigass mansion in the middle of nowhere, and we can lie low there for a while before going somewhere else and starting new!” you can’t bring yourself to say anything, the shock of how much he’d thought out this plan sitting heavy on your shoulders. the courage to say something before he thinks you’re agreeing with him bubbles up. “yangyang, under all circumstances, you and i cannot do that. do you know how many force tasks they’d send out for us? how much trouble we’d be in when they caught us? plus, you still need these sessions that i’m doing. the real world is harsh, and doesn’t take kindly to you. i wouldn’t want you or anyone else getting hurt.” his face contorts into sadness at your statement. he pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, not letting go. “but i thought you loved me, don’t you want us to be happy together?” your blood runs cold at his confession. love was never on the table, the flirting you’d been doing was just to open him up to make it easier to talk. you knew you were taking a risk doing that, but never had you anticipated him to fall in love with you and think it was mutual. you separate yourself from him and walk to the door. “yangyang, are you being serious? you- you don’t actually think i’m in love with you, right?” his face falls, going completely straight. no movement comes from either of you for a good minute, the situation at hand causing hesitance. “you’re not? i just thought… you were.” you scoff at the boy sitting in front of you. “y/n, i don’t think you realize that i’ve already planned for this. we’re gonna have to leave.” you start to argue with him but a flurry of gunshots and screams ring out from all around you. you turn and pull the door open to see patients and guards frantically running about, a breach in the facility causing this. “jesus fucking- yangyang why in the hell would you do this!?” you turn to see him getting up from the bed and gathering a few items. “yangyang!” he doesn’t respond, only grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him. you’re too much in shock to resist the boy, and on top of that he’s definitely stronger than you. the run towards whatever exit he’s taking you to seems surreal. the amount of trouble you’re going to be in for this is astronomical. you can hear the words “you’re fired” repeating in your mind. outside the door is an alleyway that connects the facility to a power plant. it seemed like they’d had a breach too. yangyang really wasn’t lying when he said you’d have to leave to someplace far away. he drags you into the plant and heads for the large vats of chemicals. “yangyang where the hell are you taking us? what are you doing?” he glances over his shoulder at you, a deathly look on his face. “this wouldn’t have been in the plan if you had just done what i needed you to do. now you have to pay the price.” what in the fuck did he mean.

the vats were in sight, glowing and hot from the chemicals in them. your surroundings loud from combat, you’d assumed from runaway patients attacking. yangyang stopped in front of the largest one, looking down in it and smirking. he turns to a very shaken you, giggling like a madman. “i think you know what’s in store for you my love. you betrayed me! you gave me all the signs, and carelessly flirted, acting like you liked me.” tears were pouring down both of your faces, but for different reasons. the end of your life was staring at you, loud and proud, and you knew this. you had many goals in your life, and to see none of them get achieved hurt you. you take one last look at yangyang, who is inching closer. “i’m sorry for making you feel like that. i just hope that in the next life, you’ll be a normal person and get to experience life in a positive perspective.” he doesn’t seem to care, because as soon as he gets close enough to you, he grips your face and leans in. “and now, my love, you leave me with a kiss.” his lips lock with yours for a brief second before he shoves you hard, taking the breath out of you. you fall backwards into the vat, the acidic chemicals eating you. yangyang stares at you as you perish, the smile slowly dropping from his face.

one would think this whole tragedy could be easily resolved, but this was not a villain origin story, it was real life, and you were dead. yangyang knew what he had done was fatal, but make no mistake, you knew it was what he wanted. he did love you, but his brain was not the same as a normal person’s. the wiring was simply not supportive of any form of morals, no right or wrong could be detected. all he knew was that you were in the way of him getting out, and he needed you removed. so he did.

and as reality set in for him, yangyang realized that you were the only one who understood him. you were the one to listen to his problems and not look at him like he was crazy, to help him through the intrusive thoughts, and you did that all while loving him.

he breaks down, dropping to his knees at the harsh reality that you were gone forever, and no longer able to make him happy. the salty tears running down his face provided a blunt sting to the cuts and scrapes adorning his face. his shoulders shook with sorrow and his sobs were melancholic. yangyang can’t even think straight, all his mind is screaming is you. your name, face, your soft hair, warm skin, and the way you laughed at all his stupid jokes. he wants an escape from the voices in his head. the grate walkways that line the perimeter of the vats are loud with yangyang’s manic running. all he wants is freedom from his personal hell, he’s had to deal with people looking down on him all his life, saying that he was never going to be able to be normal, berating him for all the fucked up things he’s done, but never helping him to be a better person, always leaving him to rot in different psych ward cells.

gun. there’s one somewhere.

the one voice in his head that wasn’t screaming made him worry no less than before, but he knew to heed his own advice. it was the only coherent thought at the moment so what’s the harm. yangyang finds himself lost, and begins to get angry until he sees a guard coming his way. attacking him, he easily finds a gun and wrings it from the man’s grip before shooting him dead. the body slumps over and yangyang decides that he’d rather not die next to it. he is far too lost to try and get back to where he pushed you to your timely death, so he just runs until he finds a room. unlocked and unoccupied, he slips in and locks the door behind him.

the leather chair that he sits in is worn and comfortable. the desk has various papers scattered around, and the computer is off. yangyang takes one good look at himself in the reflection of the screen before pulling the trigger.

the judgement room is even colder than before. you sit in the uncomfortable chair, tears streaming down your face and sobs ripping through your chest. sicheng sits, unaffected by your pain. the shadowy figure appears in front of you, so close you can hear whispers of a large multitude floating out of it. “y/n, you must finish the trial. what was the last sin?” you try your damndest to compose yourself, wiping the tears and hiccuping. “i- he was…” “no, y/n. no excuses. what is the sin displayed here?” you didn’t need this figure up your ass about it, the answer was obvious. sighing, you look up at it, seeing it slightly resembles a man. “wrath.” the figure hums in response, moving over to show the screen again. in large font and bold letters, the word “repentance” is shown. “you have passed judgement, and you shall be going to heaven. are there any questions?”

#neowritingsnet #nshitty-frathouse #unfortunatus: inferno #nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv yangyang #yangyang #yangyang x reader #yangyang scenarios

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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Lost Time {19}

Summary: It’s been four years since Azriel ran away from Velaris and left behind everyone he ever loved — including the girl left standing at the altar. Now, he’s back home, but can he try and pick up the broken pieces of his life, or has there been too much lost time?

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

Lost Time Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

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A/N: Whoops has it been 12 years since I updated this? Yes, it has. Another chapter written with @tacmc. Enjoy!

Elain had made it her mission to give Nesta the best party of her life. She had no idea how many people would actually end up showing up, but Nesta would definitely be feeling the love.

Her house was decorated to perfection. She had spent the entire morning cooking and baking, and her entire kitchen was loaded up with goodies, which is where she found Azriel, his mouth full of a chocolate cupcake.

When Elain came around the corner, he looked like a child who had been caught doing something his mother had told him specifically not to do.

“Hi,” he said, his mouth full, words muttered. “You look beautiful.”

“And you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wiping chocolate icing off his face, “were told to wait until after the guests got here.”

He grabbed her hand and sucked the excess chocolate off her finger but ignored the fire it ignited in her eyes, knowing they didn’t have time to play before everyone arrived. He knew Elain would have washed the icing from her hand, since even the smell of chocolate made her slightly nauseous these days. He couldn’t let that go to waste. “They needed to be taste tested.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “You’re worse than your son.”

As if on cue, Donovan ran in, dressed in his jeans and plaid shirt, nearly identical to Azriel, and asked, “Mama, can I have some of celery, please?

Azriel raised a dark brow. “Are we sure he’s mine?”

Elain snorted and put a few pieces of celery and a glob of peanut butter on a small plate. “Trust me, your terrible eating habits are nearly the only thing he didn’t inherit from you.”

Novan took the plate and sat down at the table. “Yeah, daddy, terrible eating habits.”

The way he said habits had Elain laughing. Meanwhile, Azriel looked highly offended.

The front door was pushed open and Nesta’s voice fluttered through the house. “El, this is beautiful!”

She came around the corner to the living room to find Nesta, teary-eyed, and Cassian standing behind her, shaking his head.

“I told you to get here after all the other guests,” Elain chuckled, looking pointedly at Cassian.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “She couldn’t wait, and she overpowers me.”

Elain sighed and was about to say something when small feet ran from the kitchen. “Uncle Cass!”

“Hey, bud,” he smiled, scooping him up. “You clean up nice.” The compliment was lost on the four-year-old as he replied, “Thank you, I took a bath this morning.”

After a breathy chuckle, Cassian set him down and he hurried over to his aunt. He gently hugged her belly. “Hi, Aunt Nesta. Hi, baby.”

With a fond smile, Nesta ruffled his hair. “Hey, bud. You look nice,” she said, throwing a glance at Cassian, especially when Donvan beamed up at her.

“Thank you! Look!” He ran over to where Azriel had just entered the living room. “Me and daddy are twins!”

The word had Azriel’s eyes finding Elain’s and he smiled softly before picking his son up. When he saw Elain getting misty-eyed, he turned the conversation to the couple before him again. “Did you figure out how to announce the gender yet?

Nesta’s eyes hardened and she turned to glare at Cassian. “I don’t know, Cass, have you decided how to tell your fiancée what we’re having?”

Elain spun and looked at him. “You peeked?”

He was biting his lip. “I peeked.”

“He peeked!” Nesta cried, crossing her arms over her stomach. “And now he won’t tell me. Or anyone, so don’t you dare ask.” She pointed at both Azriel and Elain.

Elain was gaping, and Azriel was just shaking his head. “That’s cruel, taunting a pregnant woman with information she wants to know.”

“She said she didn’t want to know,” Cassian said, defending himself. “Until I knew, of course.”

His grin only widened as Nesta groaned. “He’s a complete a-.” Her words dropped off as she looked down at Novan. “Meanie,” she finished, after a moment.

Elain shot her a grateful look and said, “Well, you, sit down and relax.” She pointed to the couch and Nesta wisely did as she was told. She turned to Azriel, “Would you mind taking some pictures of…” She trailed off and gestured around the house. “I’m, just, sort of proud of it.”

“You should be,” Azriel said, kissing the top of her head. “Everything looks amazing. Of course I will.” She smiled up at him and he kissed her before turning to Donovan and saying, “I’ll need my assistant though, where’s your camera, bud?”

“In my room!” He was off, running up the stairs on all fours.

Azriel chuckled and followed him.

Finally, Elain pointed at Cassian, “You, follow me, I need to ask you a question.”

His eyebrows rose but he did as she said, following him into the kitchen. Nesta called, “You better not tell her!”

Shaking her head, Elain said, “As much as I’d love to grill you about my niece or nephew, that’s not what I need to ask.”

“Okay,” Cass said, leaning against the counter, eating the last remaining celery stick from Novan’s snack. “What’s up, Lainey?”

“Azriel’s ex came to see me at the shop yesterday,” she admitted.

Cassian’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Ianthe did?” Elain nodded, gnawing on her lip. He chewed slowly. “She’s got some balls.”

“She didn’t tell me who she was, but that almost unsettles me more,” she admitted. “It made it feel more like a threat than a social visit…”

Cassian was quiet for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I never met her, but from what Az has mentioned, she does seem pretty...unhinged.”

The look on Elain’s face fell even more. “You don’t think she’s dangerous…do you?”

Cassian hesitated, and it was all Elain needed to form an answer. “I couldn’t sleep last night, Cass. She left me so unnerved that I… I don’t know. I’m paranoid.”

“We already told Az that there’s nothing we can do unless she makes a move,” Cassian said, his voice low. “But, if you’re feeling unsafe, I’ll be sure to have someone hang around here throughout their night patrol. Alright?”

Elain nodded, but grabbed his wrist as he went to turn back toward the living room. “I don’t want Az worrying because I’m paranoid. You know? Because it’s probably nothing. So, just…keep this between us, yeah?”

Cassian frowned, but he nodded, nonetheless.

It wasn’t long after that guest after guest began to arrive and she heard the telltale sounds of merriment in her living room as they all greeted Nesta. The back door opened and Rhys appeared, carrying a massive tray of cupcakes.

“Fridge?” He asked, inclining his head towards.

Elain shook her head and told him to go ahead and take them into the living room, with the rest of the food. She heard steps on the wooden stairs and then Feyre appeared, carrying Lila.

“Hi! I’m sorry we’re late!” She hugged her sister and said, “Everything looks so good!”

Elain scratched behind the pup’s ear, earning her a happy bark and many attempted, sloppy kisses to the back of her hand. She chuckled and went to the sink to wash her hands before going back to chopping up more veggies.

Excited, little footsteps headed towards them. Donovan appeared and his eyes were as big as his grin. “Lila!”

Feyre smiled and put the pup down, who ran straight to her “cousin”, hopping and ready to play.

“Aunt Feyre, I took some really good pictures of Aunt Nesta’s party. I should take some of Lila,” he announced.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Feyre beamed, kissing the top of her nephew’s head. “Show me your favorite one and I’ll get it framed and hang it on my wall at home. Sounds good?”

Novan’s eyes lit up. “Yes! C’mon Lila!”

He excitedly disappeared around the corner, Lila just behind him.

“They make a good team,” Elain said, as she watched them go, fondly. “Don’t blink, Novan will try to hide her here so that you won’t take her back home.”

Feyre chuckled. “Oh, good, maybe he can potty train her, too.”

Elain laughed and closed her eyes, resting a hand on her stomach. She sighed dramatically. “Oh god, I’m going to have to go through potty training all over again.”

Feyre chuckled and said, “At least you have Az to clean up the bad ones this time.”

Elain tossed her head back and laughed. “Thank the Cauldron.”

Feyre helped her carry the veggie tray into the living room and Elain began playing host. She kept catching Azriel’s eye from across the room. The smile on his face, the secret the two of them kept, had Elain’s heart so full, she had to look away before her own smile was too telling to those around them. She kept checking on everyone, asking if they needed anything, until she felt slim fingers wrap around her wrist and tug her down on the couch.

Nesta said, “Sit with me. You’ve done more than enough today.”

Elain just rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re pregnant, and I am also pregnant, which means I know you’re exhausted,” Nesta said, laughing quietly. “Please? We’ll do gifts or something.”

Elain looked around hesitantly, but eventually sighed. “Okay, alright. Az?” She caught his eye across the room, where he had Novan on his shoulders and Lila propped up on his legs, wagging her tail. “Mind helping hand gifts?”

His smile was soft. “Of course.”

Elain got the room hushed down as she begrudgingly took a seat next to Nesta on the couch, Feyre on her other side with a notepad, ready to keep track of gifts for thank you notes.

One by one, Azriel gave gifts to Novan, who brought them to Nesta. Elain’s heart was so full. Her entire family there with her, Nesta happy and nearing the end of her pregnancy.

After Nesta had opened an entire nursery worth of gifts and had cried an insane amount, most of the guests had left and everyone was relaxing. The three sisters were sitting on the couch, discussing nursery colors when Cassian brought the three of them each a cupcake. Feyre immediately unwrapped hers and took a bite, as did Elain. Nesta just continued to explain the theme of the nursery they’d begun a few days before.

“Nes,” Cassian laughed, interrupting her as she debated the merits of having the changing table by the door or by the crib and she looked at him.

She asked, “What?”

He shook his head. “Eat your cupcake.”

“Not right now, I’m not hungry,” she said, turning back to her sisters.

“Take a bite of your damn cupcake, woman,” he chuckled.

She glared at him and unwrapped the cupcake without looking at him, and took a bite. Mouth still full, she asked, “Happy?”

He was shaking his head and laughing and Elain realized she heard a camera shutter just as Donovan asked, “Why does Aunt Nesta get a pink cupcake?”

Nesta froze, her eyes slowly trailing down to the cupcake in her hand as she swallowed the food in her mouth. Sure enough, the inside of her cupcake was pink.

“It’s pink,” she breathed, looking up to meet Cassian’s humored gaze.

He nodded, his smile widening. “It’s pink.”

A joyful sob left her mouth as she stood and made her way across the few feet of space that led her to her fiancé. She wrapped her arms around him as Miryam lifted Novan in the air and spun him around, making him giggle.

Elain found Azriel’s gaze from the other side of the almost-parents and smiled, softly.

“A girl,” Nesta cried.

“A girl,” Cassian agreed, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

Elain, pregnant and emotional, reached for a tissue on the side table. On the other side of the room, Novan tugged on Azriel’s hand. “Aunt Nes is having a girl baby?”

Azriel picked him up and stepped off to the side. Miryam was hugging Cassian, who had never looked more proud. “She is, buddy.” He frowned and crossed his arms, and Azriel couldn’t help but chuckle. “What is it?”

“I can’t play with a girl baby,” he pouted. “I wanted it to be a boy.”

Azriel smiles and kissed the top of his head. “I’m sure you did, but I promise having a girl cousin will be fun, too.”

He nodded, but the frown and subsequent line between his brows stayed. They watched the scene unfolding before them and Donovan rested his head on Azriel’s shoulder as he yawned.

“Looks like it’s just about nap time for somebody,” he said, singing the words.

Donovan shook his head, but asked, “When is she going to be here?”

He explained, “It’ll be a little bit longer. She’s not ready to come out yet.”

Nodding, he yawned and asked, “Will she be here before or after mama’s baby?”

He gently swayed, saying, “Before. Mama’s baby will be here around Halloween.”

“Spooky baby,” he mumbled and Azriel chuckled.

He repeated, “Spooky baby.”

After one more yawn, he asked, “Can mama have a boy, please?”

Azriel chuckled as he started with Novan up the stairs. “That’s kind of out of our control, buddy.”

“Why?” He asked, quietly, his eyes starting to close on Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel sighed, trying to think of the best way to explain the ways of the world to a four year old. Getting him to understand that babies grow in mommies tummies without getting too detailed was difficult enough. “Just because,” he said, at last.

Thankfully, he had taken long enough to reply, because Donovan was too sleepy to reply. His little arms had snaked around Azriel’s neck as they walked to his bedroom, and Azriel didn’t bother with more comfortable clothes as he laid Novan down and tucked him in. He was asleep before Azriel even left the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

—————

It had been a week since the Ianthe incident when Azriel got a call from an old friend in the photography business. The conversation was innocent enough, a discussion on different lenses and the best location for a subject in front of the sun.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later, thanks, man,” she’d said before hanging up. “Oh, and by the way, congrats. I’ve heard you have a kid on the way. That’s awesome.”

He chuckled and said, “Thanks. Yeah, it was kind of a shock.”

He and Elain had been walking on air the past few days. They were having a family dinner tonight, after Elain went to her check up. She was a couple days shy of sixteen weeks and the family knew there would be new ultrasound pictures to ogle over.

“Yeah, to all of us, too,” Nuala had said. “We didn’t even think you and Ianthe were still together.”

It was a good thing Azriel wasn’t driving or he would have crashed without a doubt. Nuala said something else, but Azriel interrupted her and asked, “Did you say Ianthe?”

“Yeah, it’s all over her Facebook.” He could hear the unease in his friend's voice. “Why?”

“I gotta go, Nu,” he said, breathlessly, not waiting for her reply before hanging up and opening the browser on his laptop. A quick search had him on her page and all he could do was stare.

She had an ultrasound picture as her cover photo. Elain’s ultrasound photo.

He stared in shock, unable to process what he was seeing. He grew nauseous, and purely panicked. Aside from wondering how the hell Ianthe got those pictures, he wondered what other lies she was spewing across social media.

He scrolled down, each post making his heart beat faster and the need to puke stronger.

Every day, she had updated her status, sharing with the world her journey to motherhood.

Azriel was calling Rhysand before he could think twice.

“Hey, I’m about to head into a meeting-.”

“Ianthe is making the world believe that she's pregnant with my kid.” The words rushed out of Azriel, and he didn’t take a breath as he continued, “She somehow got Elain’s ultrasound pictures and is posting them all over the internet.”

Azriel was greeted with silence, then a low, “Fuck.”

He could hear the typing of Rhysand’s keyboard and then a low whistle. “Elain at work?”

“Yeah, I just talked to her not long ago, everything was fine. She hasn’t mentioned seeing Ianthe again. Neither have I.”

The clicking of his keyboard continued and he said, “I’ve reported the posts, but you know as well as I do that she can just repost them. I can write out a cease-and-desist letter if you want, but-.”

Azriel was shaking his head, regardless of the fact that his brother couldn’t see it. “No, that’s exactly what she wants. She wants to know she’s getting a rise out of me.”

Rhys sighed and said, “I know.”

“Don’t tell Elain about this, please.”

The line was silent for a minute and Rhysand finally started, “Az-.”

“No, promise me you won’t tell her,” he said, interrupting him. “She’s already freaked out as it is, even though she doesn’t want me to know. I can see it. She’s barely been sleeping, and in her condition…” Azriel sighed and let his head hang. “I’ll handle it, I’ll deal with Ianthe. Just don’t mention this to Elain or Feyre.”

Rhysand groaned, and even though he didn’t approve of the request, he said, “Fine. Let me know if Ianthe tries anything else.”

Azriel stared back at the ultrasound picture on the model’s profile as he said, “I will. Thanks.”

Rhysand hung up and Azriel’s nerves went haywire. He was caught between the thought of wanting to track down Ianthe and shake some sense into her and wanting to go to Elain to make sure Ianthe didn’t make anymore appearances. If he tracked down Ianthe, though, she would know her plan was working, which would only inspire her more. And if he went to Elain, she would only grow more nervous and paranoid, which wasn’t good for her or the life inside of her.

Azriel needed a drink.

Or a smoke.

Or to pack up his family and take a vacation.

Currently, none of those were an option. He glanced over his shoulder to where Donovan had fallen asleep on the couch watching Power Rangers. It was close enough to his nap time that Azriel hadn’t bothered to wake him, just letting his son get some much needed sleep. He smiled softly, and turned back to his laptop, closing Ianthe’s profile and turning his attention back to the photo editor he’d been using.

True to his word, Donovan had taken tons of pictures of Lila, around three hundred to be exact. Most were of a vague black blur surrounded by rich hardwood or soft grass, but there were a few that actually turned out that he could work with.

Azriel wanted the best for his son, he wanted him to know that he could do anything he dreamed of, even at four-years-old.

An hour later, he had three images edited to perfection, ready to print.

He woke up a sleepy Novan and packed him up in the truck, heading to a local print shop. It just happened to be across the square from the antique shop. After handing the printer a thumb drive, they told him the prints would be ready in a little under an hour, right about the time they’d be leaving for Miryam’s for a family dinner.

Donovan was a ball of excitement, so ready to see his first job, he continually called it.

Leaving the shop, Azriel eyed the antique shop’s store front. “Want to go see mama while we wait?”

“Yes!” He replied, without any hesitation.

Azriel took his hand and they crossed the street, Novan a rested ball of energy. The moment the door opened and the bell chimed, Novan was yelling, “Mama!”

Elain came around the corner, a hand on her stomach as Novan ran toward her and threw his little arms around her waist. She raised her brows, laughing as she looked up at Azriel. “My two favorite boys, what a nice surprise!”

“Me and daddy are getting pictures made,” Novan said, smiling brightly. “One for Aunt Feyre, and one for our house!”

“Is that so?” Elain asked, impressed. “Well, I can’t wait to see them.”

Azriel had just reached her, moving much slower than his toddler. When he kissed his wife, softly, Novan was covering his eyes. “Gross.”

Azriel snorted as he ruffled Novan’s hair. He looked at Elain, letting his fingers dance over her belly. “How did everything go today?”

She chuckled and ran a loving hand over her stomach. “It’s definitely getting cramped in there, that’s for sure. But all good. I go back in two weeks.”

Azriel released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good. I’ll be there this time, I promise.” He kissed her again. “When can you close up? The prints will be done around five-thirty and I figured we could all ride to mom’s in one car, rather than two.”

She chuckled and looking down at her son, who was resting his chin on her growing stomach, gazing up at her. She picked him up, seeing the look on Azriel’s face, and shot him one that said I dare you to say something. He, wisely, did not.

Elain turned and headed back to the office. “I just finished up with inventory. I need to touch up this piece and then we can head out. But can you do me a favor, please?”

She sat Donovan down and he ran off to play around the store, before she turned to Az.

“Of course,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. “Please go get me a decaf coffee. I know I can’t have caffeine, but I think I can trick my body into thinking it’s getting it.”

Azriel chuckled, softly, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Of course. Novan, you wanna come with me or stay with mama?”

“Stay with mama!” He was currently sitting upside down in a refurbished chair, so Azriel wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Okay,” he breathed, smiling at Elain. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, watching him go as he made his way back through the shop. There was a little coffee house just across the street, and after looking both ways, he hurried across the pavement, onto the sidewalk, and through the double doors. A cool blast of air hit him as he stood in line, waiting to order a simple large, decaf coffee.

The thought of Elain tricking her own self into drinking something with caffeine had him laughing where he stood. Gods, he loved that woman.

He ordered a coffee for himself, a frozen hot chocolate for Novan and Elain’s decaf and stepped to the side. He was scrolling through his emails when he froze.

“Funny. You never drank decaf before.”

Her voice had him on red alert and he’d spun to face her before she’d even finished speaking.

Her turquoise eyes sparkled as she cooed, “Hi, Azzie. Did you miss me?”

He couldn’t speak, didn’t know how to speak as he took in Ianthe standing in front of him. And how she was cradling her stomach.

Snapping out of it, he grabbed her by the wrist, not nearly as gentle as he should have, seeing as they were in public, and dragged her to the corner. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Her face was the picture of innocence. “What do you mean?”

“This!” He said, his voice raising slightly. “All of this. Coming to Velaris, scaring the shit out of my wife, pretending you’re having my baby? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He had the vague notion of someone calling his name, knew that his order was ready and he should leave, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

She was smiling and that was the scariest part of it all.

“Leave my family alone,” he seethed, finally dropping her wrist. He backed up toward the counter. “Don’t talk to me or my wife, and don’t you dare think about doing anything to my kids. Go home, Ianthe.”

She said nothing as he backed away, but that sly smile on her lips remained.

It sent chills down his spine.

He forced himself to turn away, forced himself to take the drinks off the counter, and forced himself not to look back at her as he exited the shop. Everything felt wrong, every last ounce of comfort he had been clinging to have vanished.

She was crazy.

Actually insane.

And he knew for a fact that his words had meant nothing to her.

Azriel tried to look calm as he re-entered the antique store, finding Novan bouncing up and down as Elain painted an old vanity.

“Decaf for my wife, and chocolatey goodness for little man,” Azriel announced, forcing himself to sound chipper.

Novan was instantly on his feet, reaching for his drink with a thank you, daddy.

Elain took the coffee and put it to her lips, scalding hot or not, and murmured, “This will give me energy. This will give me energy. This will give me energy.”

Az chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading into her office and sitting down at her desk. He dropped his head in his hands and sighed. He knew he needed to tell Elain, but now was not the time. He’d tell her tonight, when they got home, after Donovan was asleep, after spending the evening with their family.

His phone rang, and it snapped him out of the downward spiral his thoughts were taking. After answering and finding out the prints were finished, he took a deep breath and made his way back into the store front.

He pressed a kiss to Elain’s head and said, “I’m going across the street to grab his pictures. Want to finish up and pick me up over there?”

She nodded and asked, “You want to leave your truck here and take my car?”

“It’ll save room at mom’s,” he said and nodded.

“Okay, give me five minutes.” She stood and kissed him and he was on his way.

He took Donovan’s hand and brought him with him across the street to pick up the prints. When Elain pulled up just over five minutes later, Azriel and Novan were sitting together on a bench outside of the storefront, looking at the two massive prints of Lila they had ordered.

Novan’s joyous laughter as he took in his work was a sound that Azriel would remember for the rest of his life.

“I’ll bring them to get them framed and then we’ll hang it up, okay?”

Novan nodded, excitedly. “Can we give Aunt Feyre hers at Meme’s? I really, really want to!”

Azriel laughed as Elain rolled down the window. “Of course.”

“Mama!” Novan yelled, jumping up from the bench and pointed at the print in Azriel’s hands. “Look! My picture!”

Elain’s reaction was equivalent to someone admiring an ancient, prized masterpiece, which had Novan beaming.

Once they were in the car, Novan was going on and on about his picture, about how Aunt Feyre was going to love it, and how he was a photographer just like his daddy. Azriel thought his heart was going to burst.

“Can I see them?” He asked, and Elain smiled as she handed Azriel the two small, black and white images. He gazed at them, finally able to see a baby in each the pictures, rather than just a blurry blob. He didn’t realize he was crying until Elain took his hand over the middle console. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Wow.”

He couldn’t think of any other words to explain what he was looking at, how happy he was. Elain agreed, though, smiling and glancing at him. “Wow.”

Pulling into the driveway, Novan was bouncing in his seat, begging Azriel to get him out as soon as Elain had parked the car. After safely tucking the ultrasounds away in Elain’s purse, he did just that and Donovan was up the stairs and in the house before Az and Elain had time to laugh. He started for the porch step, but Elain grabbed his hand.

“Are you okay?” She asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “You seem off, baby.”

He’d tried his hardest to act normal, not to let Ianthe’s appearance affect him, but Elain knew him inside and out. She knew him better than he knew himself, so of course, she’d notice.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he said, “I’m fine. Just…got a lot on my mind.”

She nodded, completely understanding. “Well, come on. Let’s take some time to not think about anything but our family.”

His smile was genuine when he took her hand in his and led him up the stairs, and into the backdoor. They were all there, already, everyone circled around Novan, praising his camera skills and the picture of Lila.

“I’m going to hang mine right in the entryway so that everyone who comes to my house will see it the moment they walk through the door,” Feyre promised.

“It’s just what we needed,” Rhysand agreed, with a wink.

“Now I’m a photographer, like daddy,” Novan said, turning to smile at his parents.

“Yes you are,” Miryam promised, as she wrapped Azriel into a hug, then Elain. “Everybody hungry? The tables all set and ready.”

“Yes, please,” Elain said, sighing as she rubbed a hand over her stomach.

“Before we eat, though, I need to see the new pictures!” Feyre called, Nesta agreeing as they went into the dining room.

Elain laughed as she pulled the little envelope out of her purse and set the bag on the counter before wrapping an arm around Azriel’s waist and walking with him through the threshold of the dining room.

She handed one of the pictures to Miryam and the other to Feyre and then stepped back to wait with Azriel. Rhys asked, “No gender yet?”

She shook her head. “We’re waiting until twenty weeks. I’m not dealing with another color swap fiasco.”

Elain’s very first nurse had jumped the gun and told her Donovan was going to be a girl. Naturally, so did Feyre and Nesta, and Elain had a nursery full of frilly, pink sparkles.

And then a month later, she’d found out she was having a boy.

Feyre handed the ultrasound to Nesta, who was already crying, and she looked at it with a hand over her mouth.

Cassian chuckled and pressed a kiss to her head and looked at the ultrasound in her hand and then to the one Miryam had just handed him. His eyes narrowed and he looked back and forth between the two.

“Wait,” he began, scooting closer to Nesta. “Why does mine say baby B, and hers says baby A?”

All conversation stopped as everyone looked to Cassian, where he was still looking back and forth between the two pictures. Nesta’s mouth had fallen open, Miryam’s hands had flown up to cover her mouth, but it was Feyre who was smiling brightly up at Elain, whispering, “Twins?”

Elain fell into Azriel’s side, her laughter contagious as she announced, “We’re having twins.”

“Twins?” Novan repeated, as everyone around him celebrated. “What’s twins?”

Miryam picked him up and sat him in her lap as Cassian handed her the two ultrasound images. Nesta was already crying with Elain in her arms and Feyre was hugging Azriel. Miryam set the two images on the table and said, “These are two different babies, but they’re both in mama’s tummy.”

His eyes went wide, “I get two babies?”

He’d begun to refer to the baby as his baby, and Elain thought her heart would explode every time.

“You get two babies, buddy,” she said, tears shimmering on her face.

Novan’s awed expression turned into utter excitement. “Two babies! Two brothers!”

Azriel hesitated, but Elain just laughed. “We’ll have to see, buddy. We don’t know if it’s brothers or sisters yet in there.”

Novan was quick on his feet, standing in front of Elain and pressing his cheek to her belly. “Please, someone in there be a brother.”

Everyone laughed, but Elain just ruffled his dark, messy hair. “Even if they’re both sisters, you’re going to be a good big brother to these two babies, buddy.”

He looked up at his parents and smiled. “I’ll be the best big brother in the world.”

#lost time #snelbz #snacmc #elriel #elriel lost time #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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a-place-to-come-back-to · 3 years ago

Text

So I watched witw last night with my family (7th time whoop whoop) and this idea held a gun to my head and didn’t let me go until I wrote it so here

~~~~~~~~~~ The walk back from the courtroom was a solemn one, to say the least. The pleas of Toad seemed to torment Rat’s ears long after they had ceased, as if mocking him for his failure. He pulled his coat tighter with a huff. His pace picked up slightly and eventually he passed Mole and Badger, who were talking in low, subdued voices. Mrs. Otter was asking a few more animals about Portia, still clinging on to one last bit of hope that he desperately wished would pay off soon. Portia was a good pup—just a pup—and after what Mrs. Otter had already been through... he couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of losing a child.

He vaguely heard Badger say something to Mole about how the situation wasn’t his fault, and Ratty wanted to comfort his friend, he really did; wanted to assure him that the only one held responsible for Toad’s actions was Toad; wanted to tell him how the fact that he fell for Toad’s cruel trick only showed the depths of his compassion and the kindness of his heart; wanted to tell him such things were nothing to be ashamed of in any situation, and that blaming himself for things out of his control would lead him down a path that Ratty desperately wanted to protect him from. Despite all the want in his soul, somehow the words refused to present themselves. Something was numbed inside of him, preventing him from doing much besides walk as if in a daze—as if in a dream, Toad’s voice whispered in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, giving his head a small shake as if to try and rid himself of the haunting voice of his friend, his pace quickening even more as if trying to outrun the truth of it all. He was stopped in his tracks abruptly as a familiar cane snagged his arm. “Do watch where you’re going, Ratty,” Badger advised. Rat opened his eyes and observed a tree root that he would have tripped over had the other animal not stopped him. He sidestepped it without a word and continued his way a bit slower than before. “You’re being awfully quiet, Ratty, it’s not like you,” Mole spoke up after a few moments. Rat could hear the undertones of worry in his voice—he hoped Mole didn’t think him angry at him. “I’ve got nothing to say. We failed,” he muttered, then added bitterly, “I failed.” “There’s really not much more we could have done,” Badger said heavily, “you know how Toad is. He’s more of a force of nature than an animal—there’s no stopping him once he’s made up his mind to something.” Rat shook his head, hitching his coat closer again—more for comfort than for warmth. He didn’t feel the cold. He supposed that was a bad thing, but couldn’t find the space to care. “I should’ve done more,” he berated himself, “I—I should’ve stayed with Mole. I should’ve tried sooner to stop Toad, I should’ve—” “But you can’t blame yourself for any of that,” Mole broke in kindly, “you didn’t know what would happen—besides, Badger’s right, we did all we could. The rest was basically out of our control.” Rat huffed and sped a few paces ahead, trying to escape the worries stares that he could feel boring into the back of his head. “I suppose this is what you deserve, isn’t it?” he scolded himself under his breath, “just another reminder that you need to be better—if only you had let go of you stupid pride and tried to keep an eye on Toad, then you wouldn’t have condemned him to twenty years in prison. His father was always kind to you, that would’ve been the least you could’ve done for him. But always too little, too late with you, isn’t it? First you fail Dad, now you fail Toad—next I suppose it will be Mole, you stupid animal—” Once again his arm was snagged by the cane, but this time he was yanked to a stop roughly. He turned back to Badger with a sharp comment that died on his lips once he met the other animal’s eyes—almost angry, but with a sadness hidden there as he scowled at Ratty. “Mole, walk ahead, please,” Badger directed the other animal, “I need to speak with Ratty.” Mole obliged, throwing Rat an unreadable glance as he did so. Badger watched him until he was a bit farther ahead, and turned back to the rat with a disapproving gaze. “What—” “Have you forgotten that badgers have excellent hearing?” Badger said harshly, cutting off Rat’s question. Ratty gaped for a moment as the realization hit him that Badger had heard every word he had been muttering in the supposed safety of a whisper. Something in Badger’s face softened as Ratty began to stutter half-formed falsehoods in a panicked attempt to avoid the upcoming conversation. “You are a fine young animal, Ratty,” he said firmly, “and it truly pains me to hear how poorly you think of yourself. You did not fail Toad, and you certainly did not fail your father,” Ratty’s gaze dropped down in shame and Badger stooped a bit to catch it again. “You mustn’t think such things. It was entirely out of your control,” he said gently. Ratty glanced away for a moment, blinking back a suspicious wetness in his eyes. “But what if I could’ve done more?” he murmured, something almost broken sounding working its way into his voice. He wasn’t sure to which failure he was referring to, but he supposed it applied to all of them. Badger sighed heavily, laying a paw on the back of Ratty’s neck, much in the same way that he used to when the rat was a pup. “That’s a dangerous game to play,” he warned, “it does not do well to lose ourselves among the ‘what if’s and the ‘should have’s of the past.” Rat nodded in agreement and sniffed—purely because of the weather, he told himself. Then out of some sudden impulse driven by long carried guilt, he blurted out, “I’ve failed you too.” Badger frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but Rat barreled on. “I all but abandoned you after Dad... I’m sorry, I—I should’ve visited more, but I thought you wouldn’t want me—” Badger yanked him into a fierce hug, cutting off his self-deprecating speech. Ratty faltered for a moment before he wrapped his arms around the other animal. He was shaking—because of the weather, he told himself adamantly. “You have never failed me in any way, do you hear me?” Badger said almost sternly, giving the younger animal a small shake to emphasize his words, “it was I who abandoned you, and the responsibility for the situation lies strictly on me. You are far too young to try and carry such unnecessary burdens.” Ratty nodded, a tightness in his throat preventing him from speaking. “I am very proud of the animal you have become, and I know your father would be too,” Badger added softly. Ratty’s head dropped down to the other animal’s shoulder as he tried to collect himself. Badger squeezed him tighter and they stayed like that for a minute before Badger released him. Ratty sniffled again and wiped at his eyes—just the weather—and Badger gave him a kind smile. “Go catch up to Mole, I suspect he is rather worried,” the older animal told him. Rat returned the smile and jogged ahead to catch his friend, who looked over him carefully when he finally met up with him. “Are you alright, Ratty?” Mole asked in a downtrodden way that made the rat falter a moment. “Of course I am,” he said easily, before adding cautiously, “are you?” Mole sighed. “Moles have excellent hearing too, you know,” he said gently. Ratty froze a moment with an attempted excuse on his tongue before he ducked his head, the weight of shame overtaking him again. Mole threaded an arm through his, leaning his head against Rat’s shoulder. “You should listen to Badger,” was all he said. Ratty nodded, his paw reaching out to squeeze his friend’s. “I’ll try, I promise,” he assured. Mole sighed again. “Next time you try to talk bad about yourself, I’ll beat you with your own hat,” he muttered without much malice behind his voice. The image that popped into Rat’s head at that was so comical that he was unable to suppress a laugh. “What, you don’t think I will?” Mole challenged good-naturedly. Ratty shook his head, a grin spread across his face. “No, but just... can you even reach it?” he teased. Mole gaped in offense, which drew another laugh out of Ratty. Mole’s face morphed into a mischievous grin. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we?” he decided. He yanked down on Ratty’s arm, snatched the hat off his head in a fluid motion, and began to attack the other animal with it. Laughter flew as quickly and as freely as the hat did as Ratty tried to avoid the assault, and soon both of them were doubled over in mirth, gasping for air. Badger watched them from farther down the path with a bittersweet smile, something inside of him softening at the sounds of their laughter. Even though he had failed Ratty, he was glad that the animal was blessed with such a good friend as Mole.

#kat writes #fics #the wind in the willows #the wind in the willows musical #look the ending isnt great but i wanted a cheerful note #i am far better at writing angst than at writing anything lighthearted #the first half of this was written at like 1 am apparently thats the magic hour #like i said beofre APPARENTLY EVERYTHING I WRITE WILL HAVE BADGER ANGST MAKE AN APPERANCE #anyway i hope you enjoy #oh also do please let me know if you catch any spelling/punctuation errors #im awful at catching them

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